#& just... Nothing. stone cold sober | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cattolino · 25 days ago

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the morning after. — (hyung line)

pairing: hyung line x f reader. genre: suggestive to explicit, fluff.

(this fic has been crossposted on my insta @cattoleeno)

for maknae line; here. scenario: the following morning after your first intercourse with them.

Chan.

The sheets felt soft and smelled fresh, indicating they were different ones from last night’s considering the fervid lovemakings that lasted until sopping traces of dried, filthy substances seeped into the bedding. Fervid, because both you and Chan had been too lost in the moment to even spare a little bit of time to close the curtains, and now the morning sunlight bathed your pillows in its warmth, pulling you slowly from dreamland.

Despite having been stone cold sober the night prior, the recollection of what had happened after the intercourse was vague. And it was all on Chan for having instigated a few more rounds after the first until your mind had been all but befogged with euphoria. The only thing you could remember in the fuzzy state was that he’d scooped you off the bed and carried you to the bathtub. Everything else was an outright blur.

However the clean sheets and clean clothes said enough of how well he’d treated you, leaving no room for complaints.

The bed quaked as Chan stirred behind you. His bare, solid chest flattened against your clothed back, his arm crept around your abdomen, and his face nestled into the back of your neck. The sound of his soft snoring followed soon after.

You reached down to intertwine your fingers with his, inadvertently rousing him from sleep once again.

“You awake?” His voice was a few octaves lower than his normal speaking voice which you found insanely attractive.

It wasn’t the first time you heard it. Sometimes he would call you early in the morning and you’d hear the exact same tone. But it was the first time you heard it while lying beside him—in his arms and in his bed, while he was shirtless, while his breathes fanned against your neck, while you just gained your consciousness, while you could still vividly remember from the time he’d discarded pieces of your clothes one by one the night prior. You thought you’d lose your mind.

You sighed, “mhm.”

“Hmm.. sleep more.” But his body betrayed his words. He tugged at the collar of your shirt—his shirt—a little to the side with a gentle nip of his teeth, allowing him more access to your bare shoulder. He draped a leg over your side and pulled your lower half towards his own. His thumb caressed the back of your hand as he left a trail of pecks along your shoulder.

It felt almost sweet, until he was grinding against you and you realized that his morning wood was incessantly poking your buttcheek. Occasional sighs escaped between your chuckles, “baby, you need help?”

Your question restored his bearings that had briefly slipped for a moment there.

“I’m sorry,” he snickered, realizing how sudden his arousal turned up after having just told you to come back to sleep, “don’t worry, it’ll go away by itself.”

And so you spent the rest of the morning in bed, only waking up when the sun was high. Specifically, when Chan started to kiss up your jaw and neck, nipping and sucking, way too passionate to be called innocent wake-up kisses.

Minho.

Waking up to an empty bed after an intimate night did nothing but ruin your mood.

You were wrapped warmly in a blanket that reeked of Minho, almost as if he was there with you. But your arms swept across the mattress in search of a sign of him only to be disappointed. Before your anxiety ascended at the thought of him leaving you all alone, a shuffling sound outside the bedroom alerted you of another presence.

As you made your way towards the door that was left partially open, you discovered traces of clothes and undergarments strewn across the floor. You looked down at yourself, fully clothed in cat print pajamas. You didn’t even realize. He must’ve dressed you after a bath last night.

An appetising smell of chicken stock pervaded the air when you stepped out of the bedroom. Minho was in front of the stove, back facing you. On contrary to your fully clothed body, he only sported black boxers that hugged his ass tightly, leaving the rest completely naked.

The back muscles moved like a wave as he was stirring something on the stovetop, probably a chicken stew or porridge. You couldn’t be too sure. What you could be sure of was the scratches across his bare back, some were shallow and the others were a little deeper. Courtesy of your nails digging and raking the previously smooth back the night before. Although it wasn’t entirely your fault since he’d made you cry and choke with utmost pleasure.

His neck was embellished with purple marks, making your hand subconsciously reach up to touch your own neck that was marked with just as many love bites.

You sneaked behind him, encircling your arms around his torso and squishing your cheek against his ruined back. He was unfazed at the sudden intrusion.

“How did you sleep?” He asked with one hand stroking the back of your hand while the other remained busy stirring the dish.

“You know I hate waking up alone,” you huffed, “I thought you left.”

He tittered at your complaints. He took half a spoonful of the chicken porridge he was making and tasted it, before turning off the stove. He loosened your arms and turned around to face you, walking you back until your ass was in contact with the island counter behind you.

Keeping his hands on your waist, he inspected you from head to toe with an impish smile, “in my defense, you looked so cute sleeping in my pajamas I didn’t have the heart to wake you up,” he carded a hand through your hair and kissed your forehead, “you should stay the night more often.”

You relaxed in his hold, both palms running absentmindedly along his biceps, “and what, let you make me stay up all night again?”

“Oh, but you loved it?” His cute, crooked front teeth that were shown off as he grinned might be the reason why one of your hands pinched his cheek without thinking. He giggled at your impulsive move.

You nodded with a small laugh, “never said I didn’t.”

You were hot on his heels for the rest of his breakfast-prepping. You’d help him clean up and set the table, before following him around again, completely attached to him. And sometimes, he would pat your head, rub your back and kiss you here and there throughout.

And when it was time to sit down and eat, he insisted you sit on his lap.

Who are you to say no?

Changbin.

“Binnie, I’m trying to make breakfast.”

And it was repeated umpteenth time in case the man who was clinging to your back like a koala to a tree trunk thought the sunny side ups on the stovetop were for decorations.

The toasts had already been plated prettily on the counter with slices of ripe avocados, two cups of black tea weren’t as hot as you’d prefer but still warm enough to soothe your stomach. It was a simple breakfast for two reasons, one of them was it was easy to make and the second was because your boyfriend’s kitchen lacked a little bit of everything for any other filling breakfast menus.

It would take you less than half an hour to set everything ready on the table and have a slow morning to spend with Changbin, but the latter didn’t look and sound interested if the firmer grasp around your body and his whines were anything to go by. It was as if you were met with a completely different person from last night; who’d made you sob and writhed under the mercy of his harsh poundings.

“Let’s go back to bed…” there it was again, his petulant, complaining whine that discreetly had your heart trembled.

You hummed to swallow down the smile, unyielding in your stance, “and what?” You turned off the stove and turned around, putting the cooked eggs carefully atop of the sliced avocados so it wouldn’t slide down and ruin your plating. Changbin might not put all his weight on you and actually put an effort to drag himself around behind you, but his arms around your middle still restricted you to move more freely. “Once we’re in bed again we both know what will happen.”

“Your fault,” he huffed out a sigh. He didn’t have to fill you out why.

You were wearing the white dress shirt he’d worn last night with nothing underneath. So when he’d walked out the bedroom earlier, morning-kissed by an alluring view of your curves that were presented through the sheer materials, he thought it was only natural that he’d feel something tingly stir in his stomach.

“You look fucking amazing,” the low moan he breathed out against your neck was deliberate, “gorgeous.”

“Not that I haven’t worn your clothes before,” you tried to argue, affectionately.

“Not my dress shirt.”

It’d be a lie to say you didn’t enjoy his desperation to your unintentional seduction.

“Breakfast later,” he grumbled, one hand eventually giving in to its willpower and slipping beneath the hem of the dress shirt. The pad of his fingers massaged your inner thigh and rode up to press gently onto your swollen folds, “please?”

“But you need to leave in like—” you paused, dragging him along with you as you stepped into the living room where the clock was hung on the wall above the tv, “less than two hours.”

“That’s all I need.”

Feeling how your back was finally relaxed against him, Changbin walked you to the bedroom.

Breakfast could wait.

Hyunjin.

Hyunjin was sitting on the window nook with a sketchbook on his lap.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes with the back of your hands, and for a moment, his pencil stilled in the air an inch from the paper of his sketchbook as his eyes were locking on your figure. The corner of his lips tilted up at the sight of you struggling to prop your upper half on your elbows and of your face scrunched in annoyance to adjust to the morning sunlight.

“G’morning, princess.”

You blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep away the blur in your field of vision, slowly regaining your eyesight and seeing Hyunjin smiling at you. The outrageous morning sunlight didn’t seem outrageous anymore when it poured softly around his frame like a halo. You blinked again, trying to take in the full view of his naked upper half washed beneath the warm rays.

Dragging the comforter along, wrapping the thick blanket around your naked form, you climbed out the bed and limped your way towards him.

Lifting his sketchbook off of his thighs, he spread his legs wide to beckon you into sitting in his lap. The pillow that was situated between his back and the wall was squeezed up as you flumped down into the space between his legs, back pressing against his chest and head on his shoulder.

One of his palms smothered towards your inner thighs and gently massaged the area to soothe the soreness he’d caused the night before, all while pampering you with featherlike smooches along the surface of your exposed shoulder, making you giggle. He pecked your cheek and let his chin fall on your shoulder.

Placing his sketchbook down on your lap, he resumed the sketch where he’d left off.

“Did you sleep well?”

You nodded and yawned, slowly dozing off again in the comfort of his arms, “why are you up so early?”

“Would’ve slept more, but I felt like drawing.”

Your eyes fluttered open at his words, trying to adjust to the bright sunlight now that you were right next to the window. You looked down at his drawing in curiosity, slightly tilting your head.

Hyunjin put his pencil down once again to let you see the whole of his sketch. You blinked, your brows wrinkled, and your lips puckered into a small pout at the pencil lines on the cartridge paper.

Because the sleeping figure in his rough, unfinished sketch was you. And you lit up instantly.

“That’s me!” You chirped happily. There were countless sketches of you, some of which you had put up on your bedroom wall to gaze at his talent on daily, and some others were kept neatly in a file folder on your bookshelf. But every time, you were excited to see more.

It felt good to see yourself through his eyes.

Your fingers gently ran down the textured paper, simply amazed, “this is like, what, the fifth drawing of me sleeping? Specifically sleeping?” And it was only the second month of your relationship.

He laughed, shyly burrowing his face on your shoulder, “I hope this doesn’t come off creepy. But I love watching you sleep.”

#skz imagines #skz smut #stray kids x reader #bang chan imagines #lee know imagines #changbin imagines #hyunjin imagines #skz scenarios

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arkaiveofurown · 1 month ago

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you confessed while drunk—he didn’t believe you

Pairings: Ace x Reader, Sabo x Reader, Law x Reader, Zoro x Reader

Word Count: ~1,000 - 1,500

tags: fluff

my masterlist here ♡

----

a/n: if you’re wondering why i keep writing about these four, well, they’re my favorite op characters (esp sabo) hence i'm more familiar with their personalities so it's easier for me to write them compare to others. but i'm up for a challenge and kinda wanna improve too so if you’ve got ideas for another character, feel free to request! i just can’t guarantee that i can make it right away ><

----

Ace

The bonfire cracked loud enough to rival the crew’s laughter.

“You’re drunk,” Marco observed, raising an eyebrow as you swayed dangerously while dancing with Thatch.

“I’m alive,” you shot back, sloshing whatever was left in your cup onto your boots.

Ace was grinning on the other side of the firepit, watching the chaos unfold. When you stumbled over and plopped down beside him, he leaned back on his hands.

“You good?”

“I'm fantastic,” you said, cheeks flushed. “And you...”

“What about me?”

“You're so—like, unfairly good-looking, you know that?”

Ace blinked. “Huh?”

“Like criminally. Stupidly. I’d kiss you if my mouth could remember how.”

He coughed. “Okay, maybe you’ve had enough—”

“I’m serious, Ace. I like you. Like, actually like you. Like-want-to-cuddle-your-face-like-you.”

“You’re... drunk.”

“Drunk brave, yeah. But not wrong.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. “C’mon. You’ll wake up tomorrow and pretend none of this happened.”

You leaned in, eyes soft. “I won’t.”

He looked at you—really looked—but his smile faltered just a little.

“Okay,” he said. “Then you can tell me again. Tomorrow. When you’re sober.”

You gave a wobbly nod, then flopped onto the deck beside him with a sigh.

“Deal.”

----

The morning after, you found him leaning on the upper deck railing, arms folded as he gazed out over the calm sea. The sunlight hit your face, clear-headed and sober now, and you stepped closer.

“I meant it,” you said.

Ace didn’t turn. “I know you think you did.”

“I do. Stop acting like you know better than me.”

“Then why now?” he asked. “Why after months of treating me like a crewmate and nothing more?”

“Because I thought you wouldn’t want me back. You’re Ace. I’m just—me.”

He finally turned to you. “You think I don’t see you? The way you fight. The way you keep everyone sane. The way you pick me up when I fall asleep on watch.”

You crossed your arms. “Then why are you brushing me off?”

“Because if I let myself believe it, and it’s not real—”

“It is.”

He stared at you.

“I like you, Ace. I want you. Not just the flashy fire-fist. You.”

“…You’re serious.”

“I wouldn’t be saying it again if I wasn’t.”

His voice dropped. “I thought I imagined it. You being into me. I thought if I got my hopes up—”

You stepped in, resting your forehead against his chest. “Hope anyway.”

He exhaled. His arms wrapped slowly around you, warm and safe.

“…You’re gonna be the death of me.”

You stayed like that a moment longer, the quiet between you full of unspoken things. When you finally pulled back just enough to look up, the corners of his mouth curled into that familiar, easy grin.

“No sake this time?” he asked.

“Stone-cold sober,” you confirmed.

He tilted his head. “So if I kissed you now, you’d remember?”

You glanced at him, coy. “Maybe.”

He leaned in—slow, hesitant.

The kiss was soft. Hesitant, then certain.

When you pulled back, he smiled against your mouth.

“You’re still unfairly good-looking,” you whispered.

“You’re just now realizing that?”

You laughed.

“Hey,” he said, pressing your forehead with his. “I like you too.”

----

The sun hit too hard. Your brain screamed.

You squinted through your fingers, groaning on your bunk. Bits of last night drifted back—sake, firelight, the kiss, Ace’s arms.

You grinned into your pillow before dragging yourself up.

When you shuffled into the galley, Ace was already there, laughing with Blamenco. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Morning.”

“…Morning.”

“You look like you lost a fight with a barrel.”

“Still won, though.”

He chuckled, then nudged a cup toward you. “Tea. Not sake. I’m a responsible boyfriend now.”

You paused.

“Boyfriend?”

He gave you a tiny shrug. “Unless you’re taking back last night.”

You slid into the seat beside him, barely holding back your grin.

“Not a chance.”

He leaned close. “Good. I like the sound of that.”

You let your hand rest over his, warm and steady.

“I told you I wouldn’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

Ace squeezed your fingers. “And I told you I’d believe it... if you said it sober.”

----

Sabo

The campfire crackled, and the camp was alive with laughter and music as the Revolutionary Army unwound after a long day. You sat among the group, sake cup in hand, the warmth spreading quickly through your chest.

Sabo was nearby, talking quietly with Koala and Hack, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. The courage burning inside you finally spilled out.

You raised your cup, slurring slightly, “Sabo… I like you. Like, really like you. More than just a comrade or a friend. I—”

Before you could finish, the entire camp fell silent.

Ivankov’s eyes bulged behind his dramatic lashes, his hand flying to his chest. “What was that?!”

Sabo froze mid-sentence, his eyes widening, and for a moment you thought he might say nothing at all. But then he slowly turned, eyes narrowing, an unmistakable flush creeping over his cheeks.

“Y/N,” he said carefully, voice low and unsure.

You waved a hand dismissively, “I’m drunk, but I mean it! I swear, I’m serious.”

Ivankov jumped to his feet, clapping gleefully. “Finally! About time someone said it! Sabo, you lucky devil!”

Koala elbowed Ivankov to quiet him, but Ivankov just grinned wildly, not caring.

Sabo looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks burning hotter by the second. When he met your gaze again, there was a softness there — a vulnerability rarely seen.

“You’re bold when drunk,” he muttered, voice rougher than usual.

You grinned, leaning closer. “Only when it’s true.”

Ivankov started chanting, “Love in the air! Revolutionary love! Drink up, comrades!”

The camp exploded into cheers and laughter, some teasing you both, others raising cups in your honor.

Sabo’s gaze softened, and when he reached out, his hand brushed yours, fingers lacing just slightly. His touch was gentle, hesitant, but it sent a jolt through you.

“Tomorrow, when you’re sober, we’ll talk,” he said quietly, “but for tonight... enjoy the chaos.”

You squeezed his hand, heart pounding—not just from the sake.

He cleared his throat, still blushing faintly. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, Y/N.”

You laughed, warmth flooding your chest. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Sabo shook his head with a soft smile, the usual fire in his eyes replaced by something more tender. “Damn, you’re trouble.”

----

The morning sun warmed the camp, but you could barely enjoy it. Everywhere you went, the Revolutionary Army’s eyes seemed to follow — smirks, knowing glances, and not-so-subtle whispers. You caught Koala nudging Hack, Ivankov grinning wide, and even Dragon shooting a rare amused look your way.

Every time you tried to approach Sabo, a chorus of cheers erupted:

“Lovebirds alert!” Ivankov sang, twirling a fake bouquet of flowers.

“Hey, look! The brave drunkard who told Sabo how she really feels!” they added loudly, flinging an arm around Koala, who snickered.

“Someone got bold after one too many cups,” Hack chimed in with a grin.

You groaned, cheeks burning hotter than the campfire from the night before.

You spotted Sabo watching you quietly, his usual calm replaced by a faint blush and a guarded smile. You tried to approach him, but just as you took a step forward…

“Oi! Lovebirds! Don’t forget to save some love for the rest of us!” Ivankov interrupted, blocking your path and twirling his fake bouquet like a flamboyant gatekeeper.

Koala elbowed Ivankov, whispering, “Let them have their moment already.”

But the teasing didn’t stop. Every time you and Sabo got close, the crew’s cheers and laughter blocked you, leaving you both frustrated and blushing.

“Don’t forget to invite us to the wedding!” Koala teased, elbowing a blushing Hack.

You groaned again, sinking behind a crate, cheeks flaming. Sabo gave you a sheepish smile from across the camp but couldn’t get close without the whole crew joining in.

One time, near the fire, you finally caught his eye and tried to say something, but Ivankov jumped between you both, arms outstretched.

“Not so fast! This is a Revolutionary event—we celebrate in numbers!” they declared, grinning wildly.

Sabo just shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly amused but frustrated.

As the sun dipped low and the camp began to quiet, you caught Sabo’s gaze from across the way. He motioned subtly, a serious look in his eyes.

You slipped away from the crowd, heart pounding.

When you reached the river’s edge, he was already waiting, arms crossed, but his eyes soft.

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” he asked quietly, his voice low and searching.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the weight of everything you’d been holding in. “I was scared. And embarrassed…”

Sabo's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face. “Is it because what you said last night... wasn’t real?”

You froze, eyes widening at the question. He already knew. You’d been hoping—maybe even expecting—he’d ask that, but hearing it out loud hit you harder than you thought it would. “I… I knew it,” Sabo murmured to himself, looking away for a moment, the hint of a pained smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Your chest tightened. “No,” you rushed to say, your voice shaking slightly. “It’s not like that. It was real. Every word. I just... I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way, and the thought of ruining what we have scared me.”

Sabo shook his head, the small smile that had almost faded coming back, his usual calm reasserting itself. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he said softly, his voice almost too reassuring. “You just made things clearer.”

You met his gaze, relief flooding through you.

“I like you too,” he admitted softly, voice low. “Drunk or sober.”

You smiled, the weight of the day lifting.

Sabo’s expression grew serious again, fingers twitching nervously. “I’ve been watching you. Wondering if this—” He paused, “if this feeling was real, or just a trick of the moment.”

You reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. “It’s real. I mean it.” Sabo’s eyes held yours for a long moment, steady and serious. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips.

“Good,” he said quietly, as if a weight had been lifted. His tone was calm, but there was something undeniably tender in it.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Now, it’s time,” he said, his voice low and determined, “Let’s face the crew—together.”

You squeezed his hand in return, feeling the steady warmth of certainty in his touch. “Together,” you echoed, your heart finally feeling lighter than it had all day.

The distant laughter and teasing from the camp drifted through the air, but in that moment, by the river’s edge, it was just you and Sabo—no jokes, no distractions—ready to step forward and embrace what was real between you.

And for the first time that day, you felt ready. Ready to face the chaos of the crew, the teasing, and everything else that came with it.

----

You and Sabo made your way back to the camp, the soft murmur of the river fading behind you as the laughter of the crew grew louder. As you neared the fire, you could already hear Ivankov's unmistakable voice booming through the air.

"Well, well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence!" Ivankov called out dramatically, their eyes twinkling mischievously. “Did you two finally have a heart-to-heart? Or were you just waiting for the right moment to announce the wedding date?”

Koala, who was sitting nearby, smirked and gave a playful elbow to Hack, who looked thoroughly entertained by the whole spectacle. The rest of the crew, seemingly in sync, burst into laughter, their teasing only growing louder.

Sabo’s lips twitched upward at the corner, his usually calm demeanor barely holding back a smile. He gave you a quick glance, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips as if to say here we go again.

But then, his eyes shifted back to Ivankov, and for the first time, his voice was steady but a little more pointed. “Well, if you’re going to make a spectacle of it…” He stepped forward, his gaze scanning the entire crew, and then he smirked.

“…just know that this time, it’s sober.”

Ivankov blinked, caught off guard for just a second, before bursting into even louder laughter, clutching their sides as if they couldn’t stop themself. The rest of the crew joined in, and even Koala’s face softened into an amused grin.

You blushed a little, but Sabo squeezed your hand, his smile more genuine now.

"Drunk or sober," he added, his voice quieter, but his tone was sure. "It’s still the same."

Ivankov wiped a fake tear from their eye, still chuckling. "You two are something else," they said, shaking his head but clearly impressed. "Well, if you're sober, then I guess we'll just have to make sure we celebrate extra hard tonight! Get all the alcohol and let’s make it a real party!"

The crew erupted into more laughter, and even Sabo let out a small chuckle at Ivankov’s antics. But as the teasing continued, the warmth of his hand in yours made the world feel a little less chaotic.

You shot Sabo a grin, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief. "I guess we’re in for a wild night then, huh?"

Sabo smirked, his usual calm returning. "Only if you're up for it."

----

Law

The dim light of the ship’s common room flickered as the crew celebrated a successful bounty. The clatter of mugs, the low hum of voices, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air. You, swaying slightly from one too many drinks, finally mustered the courage to approach Law.

He sat off to the side, calm and distant, quietly nursing a glass of dark liquor. His eyes, sharp and calculating as ever, flicked to you with a hint of mild irritation.

“Law,” you began, voice uneven but steady, “I—uh… I think you’re kind of amazing.”

He looked up slowly, brow raised. “Amazing?” His tone was flat, bordering on skeptical. “You’re drunk.”

You waved a dismissive hand, sloshing a bit of your drink onto the floor. “So? I mean it. You’re always so focused. Always… thinking. Not like the rest of us idiots.”

He set his glass down carefully, eyes narrowing. “Focus doesn’t make me amazing. It just means I get the job done.”

You grinned, leaning in closer despite your unsteady balance. “No, seriously. It’s more than that. You have this—this… presence. You’re not just the doctor or the captain. You’re…” You paused, searching for the words. “You’re the reason the crew works.”

He gave a short laugh, dry and humorless. “Sounds like you’re drunker than I thought.”

You reached out, fingers brushing his hand with a clumsy grip. “I like you, Law. Not just as crewmate. More.”

He withdrew his hand immediately, the coldness returning to his gaze. “That’s a mistake.”

“No, it’s not!” You tried to keep your voice steady, but the frustration slipped in. “I’m serious. I like you. And it’s not just the sake talking.”

Law leaned back against the bulkhead, arms crossed. “You say that now, but words spoken drunk mean nothing. What happens when you wake up?”

You looked down, biting your lip. “I won’t regret it. Not this time.”

He studied you for a long moment, the silence between you thick with tension.

“You’re asking me to believe something because you say it loud and slurred,” he finally said, voice low, “but I’m not blind. I’ve seen how you act around me when you’re sober. Like I’m just one of the crew. Nothing more.”

He paused, then added quietly, “If you really mean it, you’ll have to prove it.”

----

The night had cooled, and the ship was quieter than before. You took a deep breath and found Law leaning against the railing on the upper deck, staring out at the endless dark sea. It wasn’t the same night, not drunk anymore — just you, nerves settling, hoping for the right words.

You cleared your throat softly.

“I meant what I said,” you started, voice steady but heart pounding.

Law didn’t turn right away. His gaze stayed on the horizon, but the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. “You really meant that?”

You took a step closer. “I do. I wasn’t just drunk and babbling. I like you, Law. More than just as a captain.”

He finally looked at you, eyes sharp but softer now. “Funny. I’ve been thinking about it too. About us.”

You blinked, surprised. “You have?”

He smirked faintly. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m just saying… maybe I noticed more than I let on.”

You crossed your arms, trying not to grin too wide. “So, what? You were just waiting for me to say it first?”

Law shrugged. “Let’s just say I wasn’t in any rush. You’re… complicated.”

“Complicated?” You laughed, stepping closer. “I could say the same about you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean, you didn’t notice all the little things? The way I watch you during battle, or how you’re always the first to catch on when something’s off with the crew?”

You swallowed, heart racing at the honesty behind those words. “I noticed.”

“And?”

“And it meant something. I just wasn’t sure if it was something you wanted to admit.”

Law gave a low chuckle, shaking his head like you’d both stumbled into dangerous territory — but the danger was exciting. “Admit it? I’m a doctor, not a poet. But you… you make me want to say things I usually keep locked up.”

Your breath hitched a little. “That sounds promising.”

He studied you for a moment, eyes glinting in the moonlight. “I don’t do this often, you know. Letting someone in.”

“I’m not just anyone.”

He smiled then, a real one, quiet but full of warmth. “No, you’re not.”

You closed the distance, daring to reach for his hand again. This time, he didn’t pull away.

“I’m glad you said it,” Law murmured, thumb brushing your knuckles.

“Me too,” you whispered.

----

The ship was silent except for the soft creak of wood beneath your feet. You found Law alone in the captain’s quarters, sitting by the small window, moonlight painting his face in silver. His usual sharp gaze softened when he saw you.

You stepped inside, heart pounding but voice calm. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just looked at you, that calm intensity in his eyes.

Slowly, he reached out—fingers brushing your cheek with a featherlight touch that made your breath catch.

“I’ve been thinking too,” he said, voice low. “About how often you cross my mind when I should be focusing on something else.”

Your hand found his, gripping it gently.

“I’m not good with words,” he continued, “but with you… I want to try.”

His thumb traced slow circles on your skin. “I don’t want just ‘complicated.’ I want you.”

Your breath hitched. “I want you too.”

For a long moment, you just stayed there, hands entwined, the world outside fading away.

Then, without hesitation, Law leaned in, lips brushing yours with the gentlest promise.

The kiss deepened slowly, building warmth that spread from your chest to your fingertips.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, smiles soft and real.

“No grand gestures,” he murmured.

“No need,” you whispered.

“Just this.”

You chuckled softly. “Stone-cold sober this time.”

He smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. “Good. I don’t do well with drunken confessions.”

And with that, a quiet peace settled between you, warmer than any fire.

----

Zoro

The rest of the crew had long since passed out, the ship finally quiet except for the soft creaks of the wood and the faint splash of waves. You found Zoro sitting alone near the railing on the upper deck, a nearly empty bottle of sake resting by his side. The moonlight painted his sharp silhouette.

You approached quietly. “Still drinking?”

He glanced up, eyes heavy but alert. “It’s quiet. Helps me think.”

You sat down a little distance away, careful not to crowd him.

“Mind if I join?” you asked softly.

He shrugged. “If you can keep up.”

You smiled, settling beside him. For a while, neither of you spoke—just the gentle rhythm of the sea and the night around you.

After a while, you broke the silence. “You drink a lot.”

Zoro smirked. “Yeah? You wanna make something of it?”

“Just wondering. You’re usually so serious, but now…” You nodded toward the bottle. “Maybe this is how you unwind.”

He took a slow sip, then said quietly, “Maybe I like it better this way. No one bothering me.”

You glanced at him, catching the softer side behind the gruff exterior. “I don’t bother you.”

He shifted, eyes catching yours. “You do, though.”

You chuckled. “Only because I care.”

Zoro’s lips twitched. “You’re persistent.”

“Someone’s gotta be.”

A pause. Then, he reached over, nudging your shoulder lightly. “You sure you wanna be around someone like me?”

You met his gaze steadily. “Yeah. I want to.”

He laughed softly, low and almost teasing. “You really mean that?”

You nodded, cheeks warming. “Yeah. Even if I’m a little drunk right now.”

Zoro studied you for a long moment, like weighing something heavy. “You always this bold when you’re drunk?”

You smiled a little, heart pounding. “Maybe… but this? This is real. I’ve liked you for a while. More than just a friend.”

His eyes narrowed, a shadow of doubt flickering. “You expect me to believe that just because you say it now?”

You swallowed. “I don’t expect anything. Just telling you.”

Zoro exhaled slowly, shaking his head with a small smirk. “You’re messing with me.”

“No. I’m serious.”

He looked away for a beat, then back at you with a softer expression. “Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

You smiled, hope bubbling up inside. “So… what now?”

Zoro gave you a sideways glance, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “For now? Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

“But?” you pressed.

He shrugged, but his eyes held a hint of something warmer. “We’ll see.”

----

The next morning, the ship was alive with movement, but you kept your distance from Zoro, your cheeks still burning whenever you thought about last night. You remembered every word you’d slurred, every shaky sentence — and the thought of facing him sober made your stomach twist.

You tried to act normal, busying yourself with chores, hoping he’d just forget it too.

But Zoro wasn’t about to let it slide.

He found you by the mast, arms crossed, leaning against the wood like he was waiting.

“Hey,” he said, voice low but steady.

You froze, heart pounding, eyes darting away.

“Don’t tell me you already forgot what you said last night,” Zoro added, a teasing edge in his tone.

Your throat tightened. “I remember,” you admitted quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m… embarrassed.”

Zoro stepped closer, his gaze intense but not unkind.

“So you’re not pretending it never happened?” he asked.

You shook your head, biting your lip. “No. I just… I don’t want things to be weird.”

He gave a slow, knowing smile. “Well, it is weird. Because you said you like me. And I believe you.”

Your eyes widened, heart racing.

Zoro’s smirk softened into something almost gentle.

“But if you didn’t mean it, you’d be acting like you don’t care. Instead, you’re avoiding me.”

You swallowed hard, caught between wanting to run and wanting to stay.

“So, what now?” he asked quietly.

You looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time in a while.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, cheeks flushed.

Zoro nodded like he expected no less. Then, almost without thinking, he reached out and brushed a stray hair from your face. His fingers were rough, but the gesture was surprisingly gentle.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he said quietly, eyes steady on yours. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed, heart pounding, but a small smile tugged at your lips.

He gave a soft smirk. “You said you liked me. I’ve felt the same for a while now. Didn’t think I’d say it, but yeah.”

You blinked, surprised but relieved.

Zoro’s hand lingered near your cheek for a moment before he pulled back just a bit. “We don’t have to rush. Just… be real. That’s enough.”

You nodded, feeling the tension ease in your chest.

He cracked a half-smile. “So, no more avoiding me, alright?”

“Promise,” you said softly.

He gave a short laugh. “Good. Because I’m stubborn enough to stick around.”

----

The sun was dipping low, spilling a warm, golden light over the deck. You and Zoro sat side by side, the gentle sway of the ship beneath you and the endless ocean stretching out before you. The air smelled faintly of salt and promise.

He glanced over at you, that usual smirk softened by something quieter, something real. “No drinks tonight,” he said, voice low but steady.

You met his gaze with a small smile, feeling a calm settle deep in your chest. “Sober,” you said simply. “Figured it was time to hear things straight from the source.”

Zoro’s eyes narrowed just a bit, like he was studying you, searching for any hint of doubt or second thoughts. But all he found was sincerity. He shifted closer, the space between you shrinking naturally.

“You don’t need anything to say what’s on your mind,” he said quietly, his hand brushing yours. “I want to know you—the real you.”

Your fingers curled around his, steady now. “I’m right here. No pretense, no drinks, no distractions.”

He gave a small, almost shy smile, unusual for him. “Good. Because I’m tired of waiting for you to say what I’ve been feeling for a long time.”

Your breath caught just slightly. “Then don’t wait anymore.”

His hand tightened around yours, and he leaned in just enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “I’m here. Sober. Serious. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You laughed softly, the tension finally breaking, and leaned your head on his shoulder. The sunset painted the sky in colors that didn’t seem real, but the feeling between you—steady, honest—was as real as the ocean beneath your feet.

“Tomorrow’s a new day,” you murmured.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “One we’ll face together.”

And in that quiet moment, with nothing left unsaid, everything felt just right.

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paarksunghoon · 1 month ago

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resignation (7)

SUMMARY: For the last six years, you’ve dedicated your career to ensuring Park Sunghoon never misses a day of work in his life. But you’re tired of endless days that seem to blend together, and seeing him living his fun, luxurious lifestyle makes you think about what else you might be missing out on. When Sunghoon finds your resignation letter on his desk, he does everything in his power to convince you to stay.

NOTES: this chapter is also unedited. sorry y'all

WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: mutual masturbation, phone sex, dirty talk.

SERIES PLAYLIST + SERIES MASTERLIST

***

Sunghoon has grown far more bold ever since having dinner with him for the second time. You don't shy away or make a fuss about it when the two of you are alone together, and it scares you just how much you enjoy being in his company without the pretext of making sure he’s on track to succeed at his job.

He calls you after work to talk about anything but for the first time. Sunghoon keeps you company on the phone while you make dinner, and the two of you remain on the line while you brush your teeth before putting yourself to bed. He does the same, too, informing you of his meal and that he’s the kind of guy who needs a sweet treat before he goes to bed.

He’s just as bold on the phone as he is in person.

“Is it bad that I want to touch you?”

“What?”

“I just…I miss touching you. I’ll go crazy if I’m not near you.”

“You’re insane. Are you drunk?”

“Stone cold sober,” he tells you when you’ve settled into your sheets. It sounds like Sunghoon’s rustling in his bed sheets to sit up and rest against his headboard. “Can’t believe you’re so far from me.”

Is it normal for you to get worked up over Sunghoon’s voice?

“I haven’t stopped thinking about the night you slept over. God, you were so wet. You look really good when you come and you sound even better.”

His words echo in your mind and you grow more aroused with every word spoken. Sunghoon speaks like he’s got the raw honest truth that needs to be shared, or else it’ll make him go mad. His voice is breathy and light. It almost makes you think he’s troubled by it. You sit upright, too. Your pillows act as a brace for your back as you cross your legs and keep your phone by your ear.

“I can’t stop thinking about eating you out in your office either. Do you know how long I’ve been fantasizing about that? I can’t believe you let me eat it during work hours.”

“You’ve thought about it?” you ask in disbelief.

“Yeah. More times than I’d like to admit.”

“H-How long?”

Sunghoon lets out a breathy laugh. “Years, maybe. Definitely when you came into the office wearing the long purple dress. You looked so good waiting for me.”

You can’t help when you clench around nothing and roll your hips in the air. There’s no doubt your cunt is sopping wet by Sunghoon’s words alone, and his confession leaves you aching for his touch.

“I don’t know what it was about that dress. It was backless. You wore high heels, too. The kind I’d never seen you wear before. You looked different than you usually did.”

You put your phone on speaker and close your eyes as you let your middle finger ghost over your covered slit, imagining it was Sunghoon touching you instead. It takes you right back to the morning he fingered you for the first time when you feel how wet you are. You almost feel shameful for getting horny over the sound of Sunghoon’s voice. But it’s deep and seductive, and you can’t help it.

“I’ve always thought you were attractive. I love assertive women. I love when you put me in my place and argue up the wall until one of us gives up. It drives me fucking crazy when you get mad at me because all I can think about it how good the sex would be.”

You whimper quietly. It catches over the phone and Sunghoon hears it.

“Are you horny, baby?” Sunghoon asks like he can’t believe you feel the same way too.

“Yeah.”

“Me too. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

He breathes heavily and emits a quiet moan. You’re afraid to admit how incredibly attractive Sunghoon’s moans are and settle for biting your lip while prodding your covered cunt against your opening.

“Remember when we fooled around the night you stayed over? My dick was so hard for you. I was ready to take off your clothes and fuck you right then.

But it was late and we had work. You looked at me like you wanted it. I could see how badly you wanted me. Did you see how badly I wanted you too?”

After moving your panties to the side, you take the underside of your fingertips and glide when back and forth over your soaked pussy. You pass your clit with every swipe and jolt at the euphoric feeling while pretending it’s Sunghoon’s hand. You could come from just this if you tried hard enough.

“You’re a little quiet. Are you okay?”

“I…” you trial off, finding the courage to speak. “I like hearing you talk.”

Sunghoon hums. “You like hearing how horny you make me?”

“God yes.” It comes out like you’re desperate for it.

“I can’t wait to fuck you. For real, this time. We’ll have all the time in the world for foreplay, but this time, I’ll be able to fuck you without anything or anyone interrupting.”

When you hear wet sounds on the other end of the line, you can’t help but moan. You picture Sunghoon spreading his precum all over his cock with his hand shaped like a fist, twisting his wrist so that his thumb reaches his tip. You picture him with his phone put on speaker in order to use both hands to jerk himself off.

The echoes of his wetness splashing makes you put a single finger inside of you. When you listen carefully, you hear Sunghoon’s heavy breathing and the way he’s touching himself. You picture what his face would look like with his eyes closed and mouth wide open.

“I think you want that as badly as I do. I’ve got a place by the countryside. How about a weekend getaway? I’ll fuck you for the entire weekend if that’s what you want.”

Sunghoon hisses and you picture him with his hips in the air as he squeezes himself at the base. Your reference of his print from the first time helps you imagine how big he is without his clothes on. Big and thick. You push your finger deeper inside you and pull your wrist out, just to push it in again.

“I could fuck your perfect pussy in my bed. I’ll take you on my couch while we’re watching a movie. We’ll do it in the shower and in my car.”

He wants to fuck you this badly? Sunghoon’s words falter with every passing sentence. It sounds like he’s losing his grip on sanity the more he jerks himself off. You come to the conclusion that if you can hear Sunghoon touching himself, he could likely hear you getting off too.

Why does that make you feel excited?

You feel crazy when you think about what he’s saying. Why does it sound like Sunghoon has been thinking about this for a while? And, God, how is he able to bring out this side of you?

“I can’t help myself when it comes to you.”

Sunghoon’s hand picks up the pace and he moans, unashamed. His deep grunts push you to add another finger inside and recall the girth of his own. You think about what he’d look like touching you in the quiet of your room on your own bed sheets instead of his. You imagine Sunghoon’s naked chest hovering over you while his face contorts into an expression of pleasure when he fucks his fingers inside of you.

Thinking about him like this makes you feel exhilarated. Your chest heaves up and down and you can’t help but roll your hips and push them towards your fingers. You reach the deepest parts of yourself and moan out loud, covering your mouth when you realize how loud you sound.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Sunghoon whimpers on the other end. “Keep going. You sound so fucking good.”

It’s not hard to listen to him. Moaning against your palm is like second nature when your fingers push themselves in and out. Sunghoon grunts and you imagine himself fucking his hips up in the air while his other hand tries to chase after his balls to squeeze them. He must be jerking himself off fast and quickly by the sound of slapping.

Imagining what it would feel like to go all the way with him pushes you over the edge. Sunghoon’s words get to you, and you think about his dick ramming inside of you like he’ll die if he doesn’t fuck you properly. He sounds mangled and desperate to touch you without interruption. Something tells you he wouldn’t care if somebody walked in on him pleasuring you, but you know Sunghoon wants you all to himself just as badly.

You come with panting breaths and Sunghoon moans, too. The way you moan together sounds euphoric. So much, in fact, that you picture him on top of you as he finishes alongside you. You scrum able to grab your phone and take him off speaker so you can hear Sunghoo’s moans directly in your ear, and pretend he’s moaning while on top of you.

“I’m gonna, shit, holy shit—”

Sunghoon moans loudly when he comes. You imagine his hand working overtime to push out every last drop with his eyes wired shut. He could either be squirting ropes out his tip until it splashes on his abdomen. Or, his come could come out like a slow fountain and drip all over his dick until it seeps past his base. The urge to see him orgasm overtakes your every desire. It’s not fair that he’s seen you naked twice and you haven’t seen him named at all.

“You’re perfect.”

You snort. “Give me a second to calm down before you coddle me, would you? And what am I, a booty call when you can’t get off?”

“You’re more than that to me, and you know it. You just like giving me a hard time.”

“Someone has to.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“When am I not?”

He chuckles. “We should probably sleep. Work, you know?”

“You can be so awkward sometimes.” You laugh and pick up the phone to put it by your ear. “And, um…you sound really good. You know, when you, like…yeah.”

“When I what?” He’s teasing you and he knows you know it.

“You know!”

“I do, but I want to hear you say it.”

Your cheeks warm up and you find your courage. “You sound really good when you moan. I just…jesus.”

“And you sound like a fucking angel every time I make you come.”

“I’m going to hang up now,” you say hastily with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. He laughs. “Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

“Night, love. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

***

Maybe you’re losing your goddamn mind.

It’s hard to keep work separate from whatever’s going on between you and Sunghoon because every moment in his office feels like a lion stalking its prey. He’s professional in all sense of the word, except when he winks at you when nobody’s looking. You can’t count the times he’s snuck a kiss when the two of you are alone in the break room.

Is this a situationship? Is it casual dating? Would he describe this as either?

These questions have circled inside your mind from the minute you let him bury his fingers deep into you. You’re the kind of girl who likes a distinct answer with a clear label. You like stability and clarity, not the back and forth that you see in Netflix dramas.

Even so, you can’t help but relish the time you spend with Sunghoon. He’s giving you the kind of attention you’ve been secretly yearning for during your years away from home. It felt scary to jump into the deep end without knowing how far you’d fall, but Sunghoon makes you think the risk is worth it.

“Did I lose you?”

Sunoo’s voice cuts through your phone and you blink twice while staring at yourself in the mirror with a tube of mascara in hand. His voice brings you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

“Thinking about lover boy, aren’t you?”

“He’s my boss, Sun.”

“A boss you’re fucking.”

“We are not fucking!”

“Yet.”

You close the mascara tube. “You’re so insufferable. I don’t know why I bother to update you on my life when you have plenty of action back home.”

Sunoo laughs. “It’s ’cause you love me and have no friends.”

“Yah. No need to rub it in. I’m pretty sure I’m becoming friends with my neighbor who watches Pochi for me when Sunghoon needs me to stay late.”

“That’s good. See, you aren’t totally helpless when it comes to your social life.”

You sigh. “Yeah, I guess. It’s been hard juggling work and my personal life. It feels like every person I hang out with is a product of my job. Everybody wants a meeting to connect with me, but nobody gives a shit about me.”

“Don’t say that. I know I tease you a lot, but that’s because I love you. People don’t see how great you are.”

“Ha. Maybe. Quitting Park Inc. will give me more time to think about my life. I don’t care if I have to work in a library for a year. Anything is better than a job where I won’t grow.”

“It sounds like you’re doing the right thing.”

“Am I?” You sigh into the phone. “I have no backup plan. I’m quitting on a whim and the money I’ve gotten from Sunghoon will last me for a while, sure, but then what? It’s not like I can crawl back to this company if I don’t find anything better.”

“You’ve been thinking about quitting for months,” Sunoo reminds you. “This isn’t a rash decision. We’ve spent a lot of time talking about this. You’re not happy working at this company and it’s about damn time you have a life outside of work.”

“I know. It’s just…different, I guess. I’ve gotten used to this lifestyle and catering to other people, you know? I’m not alone, but I feel really lonely.”

Sunoo hums with sympathy. “I wish I could see you everyday.”

“You’d get sick of me.”

He laughs. “No I wouldn’t. But don’t tell anyone that.”

“He took me to dinner last night, you know?”

“Sunghoon?”

“Mhm. There’s a Spanish place not far from my place. We looked at it for a company event in the summertime.”

“Like a food tasting?”

“Yeah, exactly that. Sunghoon ordered all of the menu, practically. We talked to the manager about it because they knew we were coming in, but he told me to order anything that looked good.”

“How much did you eat?”

“Too much, Sun. Sunghoon kept telling me not to worry about the price because it’s expensive anyway. I’m pretty sure Sunghoon might be the manager’s new favorite person.”

“That sounds like a date.”

You click your tongue. “I don’t know. Probably not. He held my chair out for me.”

“That was a date.”

“Sure. We had a few of their signature cocktails, too. Really good. Top shelf kind of stuff. We need to finalize their menu before I leave for good.”

Sunoo chuckles from the other end of the line. “You are so in denial.”

“Shut up. Did you eat breakfast yet?”

“I’m actually walking downstairs now. Riki’s up early because he has class and then dance practice later this evening.”

“Is that your sister?” A deeper voice flows through your ears.

“Hey, Riki. How are your classes and practice?”

“I resist the urge to fall asleep on my desk,” he says, which makes you laugh. “Dance is great. We’ve got a showcase in Seoul in a few weeks. You should come!”

“I’d love to. Text me the details, yeah?”

“Bring whoever. There’s gonna be a few scouts, but it’s not a huge thing.”

“I’ll be there.”

“You two are disgustingly supportive of each other,” Sunoo says.

“Don’t act like you don’t worry about her,” Riki says, no doubt teasing Sunoo while the latter rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m kind of stuck with her as a sister, so I have to.”

You laugh. “Don’t lie. You love me.”

“Debatable.”

You smile when you hang up the phone.

***

Yang Jungwon is fifteen minutes early.

You see him sitting in the lobby of your floor by the time you step out of your office to refill your water bottle before the interview. He’s got a piece of paper in his hands and he looks like he’s reading over the material thoroughly. Jungwon sits with a briefcase by his feet and dresses like he might as well be a business partner of Sunghoon’s. The secretary lets you know he’s waiting for the interview and you’re more than pleased to know he hasn’t arrived last minute.

Sunghoon is nowhere to be found, either. Even though each candidate has no inclination as to who they’ll be working with, you know Sunghoon’s curiosity will get the better of him. You’ve scheduled a meeting with a client out of the office and he won’t come back until well into the day.

An unfamiliar feeling settles in your chest when you look at him. He looks the way you did before you were hired. Nervous, ambitious, and hopeful. Looking at him makes you think about when you arrived at the interview much earlier than the set time and how you tried to push down your anxiety to appear more sure of yourself.

The years seem to have flown by the more you focus on work. A strange sense of nostalgia and longing lurks within you as you watch Jungwon from your office. Facing the fact that you will be replaced in a month feels oddly daunting. By the time you approach him, he stands up and bows respectfully.

“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” he says, putting the stray paper away. “I appreciate your time and consideration.”

“Thank you for coming. Let’s talk inside my office.”

He follows you inside and takes a seat in front of your desk when you beckon him to feel comfortable. It feels strange to be on this side of the interview; you kept a low profile during your first few years as an assistant until working with Sunghoon was as easy as counting to three. Becoming an invaluable asset and accumulating the fine details of how this company operates and the business it does feels like you’re far too integrated to leave. But you’ve always been Sunghoon’s right hand and nothing more.

Still, facing the reality that you’re parting ways with this job feels unnatural.

“How are you, Jungwon?”

“I’m great, actually.” He puts the briefcase on the ground and smoothes over his pants. “I’m really looking forward to our conversation.”

“Thanks for coming in on a Tuesday morning.”

“It’s my pleasure. I’m sure you have more pressing matters.” You hum. Hearing corporate speak from such a young man reminds you of the person you were six years ago.

“Tell me about yourself.”

He gulps. “I’ve just graduated college and have always held an interest in being in management. I wasn’t sure what field I wanted to go into, but Seoul has so many great opportunities I was afforded to discover during my time at university.” Jungwon takes a deep breath and twiddles his thumbs.

“Throughout my years at internships, venture capitalism caught my interest the most. It was fun, if I may speak candidly. I extended my internship throughout the summer before I graduated and liked being part of a team that sets up success for clients I believe in.” He watches you look down at his resume sitting atop your desk.

“You have great experience and your university courses align with what we do here.”

“I tailored my education during my last year of university because I know this is what I want to do for the foreseeable future. I want to learn from the best and become great at what I do without losing my head.”

You hum. “This job can get hectic, don’t you think?”

“I think any job can get that way, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it. My days were long and difficult, but I loved getting the experience to solve problems and make things happen for businesses. I enjoyed being part of it, even if I only contributed a small portion.”

Jungwon talks like he’s got the entire world ahead of him. It makes you wish you could see yourself like that too.

“Frankly speaking, this assistant position is much more than filing papers and running errands. There will be elements of that from time to time, but the person you’ll be working under likes to see how well his assistant can juggle the fine details before anything else.”

“I’m not held to a position,” Jungwon says with a smile. “I really like learning from other people and the best way to do it is to surround myself in an environment that teaches me. Even if I’m getting dry cleaning one day and sitting in on meetings the next, I’d like to think all of those tasks will lead me to become great at my job.”

“It’s a stepping stone, for sure. As you know, Park Inc. is the biggest venture capitalist firm in Asia and there is little room for error. How do you approach obstacles?”

“There’s no getting around bad days or lapse of judgment. We all make mistakes and it’s up to us to learn from them. I would consider myself somebody who sees the big picture for what it is. I’m also somebody who needs to focus twice as hard when it comes to the fine details and executing steps before we reach the end goal. It’s hard, especially when I’m in the beginning stages of my career, but I have the determination and ambition to succeed.”

Jungwon gives you near perfect answers when you ask him questions. Sunghoon thrives off of organization and somebody who can keep up with his routine. It’s hard to separate who you are with this job because you’re the longest assistant Sunghoon has ever had, and you think that counts for something.

A part of you looks at Jungwon like he’s a younger version of you. It’s as if you’re peering into your past; the concept of being incredibly motivated to jumpstart his career makes you wonder where your wide-eyed ambition went. His big, round eyes look at you with curiosity and his body language shows eagerness. You ponder on all the reasons why you’re giving your job up. You don’t find this position fulfilling anymore. This everyday routine doesn’t make you happy like it used to.

There’s hesitance in leaving the company you’ve worked for during your six years living by yourself. It was lonely, at first, with the knowledge that you’d be leaving your family and grade friends behind. Your parents and Sunoo helped you pack your belongings, but it seemed like he was the only one genuinely emotional about the move. While he swayed anywhere between excited for your next chapter and sad that you’d be far away, your parents seemed eager to get you out of the house.

Calls came few and in between. They’d driven you in a U-Haul truck with everything you owned and helped put the boxes in your apartment, but that was that. They had called a couple of times to make sure you were settled in because your relatives and neighbors had asked about it. But other than that, it seemed like most of their focus shifted onto Sunoo.

It wasn’t surprising, either. The three of you weren’t that close as you grew up. Getting used to secondhand treatment and the absence of parenthood was easier when you eventually left your hometown. Long gone were the days where you’d drive past your high school and relive memories of being forgotten at pickup or after extracurriculars. The impending doom of loneliness that came with moving to a brand new city without knowing a single soul was better than living with two people who were supposed to love you, but didn’t.

Having a set routine and focusing your attention on Sunghoon was a big reason as to why your adjustment wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be. Your time was spent worrying about getting the hang of your job, and eventually catering to his needs. There wasn’t any time in your day to think about how lonely you were sitting in your apartment every weekend while everyone on your social feed was out of their house.

Befriending your neighbors and people you’ve met through work was your saving grace once the loneliness started to make its presence known. By this time, you knew Sunghoon like the back of your hand and work wasn’t keeping you from sleeping. You didn’t have to worry about impressing him because you’d been working under him long enough to know what he needed and how he operated. All that was left was you and your thoughts alone. Thinking about your life apart from your career was scary.

But even with new challenges and shortcomings, you’ve grown over the last few years. You’re not the timid person you were when you lived with your parents. This job has forced you to come out of your shell and broaden your worldview, inevitably teaching you how to become a more confident person. This job is filled with entitled men who know nothing of struggle, and being able to move past harsh criticisms and sexist behavior taught you what it meant to be a stronger person.

It feels bittersweet to hear Jungwon talk about why he wants your job so much. You don’t feel as excited to come into the office and contribute to your company like you all those years ago. It’s become monotonous and predictable. You know Sunghoon’s life better than you know your own. You know his medical history (in case of an emergency), you’ve gotten to know his immediate and distant family (because his entire family is in the venture capitalist business), and you’ve spent enough time with Sunghoon to get to know his quirks and habits. It’s time to let this phase of your life pass.

Who are you when you’re not his assistant? You’re having trouble figuring that out.

“Thank you for your honesty and for your time,” you tell Jungwon earnestly. He stands when you do and bows politely.

“If I may be honest once more,” Jungwon begins, “this is the best interview I’ve ever had.”

That makes you stop in your tracks. “Really?”

He nods. “I don’t mean to come off like I’m trying to sway you, or anything. I know how competitive this business is. But I appreciated how easy it was to talk to you and I enjoyed having a conversation instead of listing all of my strengths and weaknesses over and over again.

“It’s easy to get lost in the stress of this job. It sounds like you really care about what you do. I know we don’t know each other, but I get the feeling you’ve seen a thing or two and learned from it. Maybe this is crossing a line. I don't know. But honestly, it felt like I was talking to an older version of me, in a sense? So, yeah, I loved our interview.”

“Thank you, Jungwon.” You try to remain neutral and keep your mouth shut to prevent yourself from being too honest with a candidate. “I had a wonderful time with you, too. Let me walk you to the elevator.” He follows behind you to the silver doors and smiles politely at you before stepping inside.

“For what it’s worth, I’m happy to have met you.”

The elevator doors close. Sunghoon, who apparently made his way back into his office without letting Jungwon see, is sitting at his desk and looking at his computer. It takes a few strides before you round the corner and knock on his door. Sunghoon beckons for you to come in.

“How’d it go with the candidate? Did you lay it on thick or keep it casual? Jaeyun was betting on the former, but I think otherwise.”

You’re grateful that his office faces yours and cannot be seen from the floor lobby. Sunghoon looks at you in concern when your bottom lip starts to wobble as you walk closer to him, and you can barely see a thing when tears start to gather in your waterline.

“Baby?” Sunghoon says gently. “Are you okay?”

That goddamn term of endearment makes the dam burst.

It doesn’t help that you don’t cry in front of people. Not ever. There is a mix of embarrassment and shame stirring in your chest when Sunghoon looks at you as your tears fall one after the other. It keeps you standing where you are and unable to move your feet to walk any closer to him. Sunghoon springs up from his chair and stands in front of you within three steps. He encircles his arms around your body and pulls you into his chest like he’s done it a million times before, tucking your face into the crook of his neck.

You keep your voice and sniffles low, but you let the tears freefall. It feels like you’re being sheltered and comforted at the same time. You can’t help but think how odd and uncomfortable it feels to be held like this after years of healing on your own. You couldn’t name the last time you’ve leaned on somebody else for support when you’ve felt like crying. And as unfamiliar as this feeling is, you don’t want to run away from it.

Sunghoon doesn’t speak, either. He doesn’t do or say anything except rubbing your upper back with his palm in an attempt to soothe you. You don’t see his furrowed eyebrows or feel how his throat clenches at the sound of you sniffling against him. He doesn’t care if his clothes dampen with your tears, nor does he care if he has to stand like this for hours just to get you to stop crying.

It feels so good to let yourself depend on him. You allow your head to fall onto his chest and remain there until your cries subside. Sunghoon keeps you between his arms and moves his free hand to the back of your head like he’s trying to tuck you further into him. It feels nice to be comforted like this, especially when you’ve been pretending you’ve been perfectly fine all along.

“What happened?” Sunghoon asks delicately. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I don’t like seeing you cry.”

“I met with Jungwon.” You sniffle and then hiccup.

“Yeah? Was the interview that bad?” You shake your head.

“N-No. The opposite.”

“But you’re in tears, love.”

You hiccup again. “I used to be ambitious and passionate. I used to look forward to the future. Jungwon told me this was the best interview he’s ever had and I can’t remember the last time somebody believed in me.”

“Oh, love.” Sunghoon cups your jawline and gently tilts your head upwards to look at him. “You’re still ambitious and passionate. That side of you is still there, but it’s time for a change and you know it.” He kisses your forehead. “There’s so much to admire about you. I knew I wanted you to be my assistant when I knew how eager you were to learn and experience life. Do you remember the first time we met?”

You nod. “You were obsessed with that stupid orange tie.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I was, wasn’t I? Ditching it was the second best decision I made.”

“What was the first?” Sunghoon smoothes over your cheeks with his thumbs.

“Hiring you. I like being around you, and I like who I’ve become with you by my side. Jungwon isn’t the only person who believes in you, dove. I do, too.”

You let out another choked sob, not caring how your mascara is probably running down your cheeks or how buffy your face has gotten. Something about the way he looks at you while he says the most kind and caring things stirs a part of you that yearns for validation and acceptance. For years now, you’ve learned to keep yourself in check and to become as independent as possible to avoid being disappointed by other people. But Sunghoon looks at you like he’d be there for you in a heartbeat.

His pet names don’t soften the blow to your heart, either. You’ve never been keen on nicknames in the first place. Terms of endearment sounded appealing, but only in television and books. Hearing Sunghoon talk to you like you’re somebody he cares about makes you realize just how much you care for him, too.

You’ve fallen for Sunghoon, but have been keeping this realization locked away in fear of being rejected. You can handle rejection and unrequited love, but the weight of knowing you’d need to do the work in order to move on is what scares you. You’ve never felt so intensely about someone before. This is the first time you could ever say you’ve fallen in love with somebody, and you can’t help but think Sunoo was right all along.

Is this what it feels like to be in love? To yearn for somebody so much that you’d do anything to keep them within your grasp? Is love meant to feel like you’re flying high above the clouds and afraid that you’ll have to fly closer to the ground if Sunghoon doesn't love you back? Is this what others feel when they speak of being on cloud nine?

“I…”

Sunghoon locks his eyes with yours. He doesn’t pressure you to speak. The words I love you are sitting at the tip of your tongue, but you can’t seem to get yourself to say it just yet. It doesn’t feel right with all of these insecurities floating around in your head. You don’t want to be rejected and still have to see him after today.

“I’m grateful for you,” is what you settle on. “Thank you for believing in me that day.”

Sunghoon kisses your nose. You hate that you love the way his lips tickle and you loathe the way your heart rate picks up.

“I think we should go to lunch and forget about work for an hour or two. What do you say? You’ll be proud to know I’ve taken care of all my meetings and outstanding priorities.”

“I’d like that.”

You’re honest with him, too. You want to be selfish and continue spending time with him while your heart remains fragile.

He lets you.

***

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#enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #enha x reader #kpop x reader #park sunghoon fanfiction #park sunghoon fluff #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #sunghoon #fic: resignation #my writing*

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miange1 · 5 months ago

Text

IAN GALLAGHER , MIKEY MILKOVICH

this is short, male reader, implied bottom reader, peer pressure, readers 'innocent' in shameless terms, passing out, vomit mentions(i think), polyamory(im not fond of it, sorry if this isn't the absolute best), mickey is a switch and i will forever believe that, ians a stone top nothing changes that, i haven't watched shameless in a while

"fuck, quit stumblin' or else we can't carry you." mickeys voice was muffled in your ears, your eyes darting around the room trying to find someplace that didn't seem so blurry in your vision. "he would be able to walk straight enough if you weren't manhandling him."

your fingers gripped both of their shoulders, trying not to slip and fall on your face. "well things would go smoother if you let me carry him!" ian shushed him, a whine mumbling past your lips.

"throw up would be all over you mick," mickey scoffed, "you think i give a fuck? look at me, and tell me if you think there's any fucks i give." he didn't care if you threw up on him, worse substances have been all over him he could handle some puke.

"what i mean is i don't want him to throw up in general!—" ian stopped talking hearing you cough, the two trying to get you to the kitchen to get you some damn water.

"sorry.." you said, your body slouching down on the counter while your legs dangled off of it. "you're sorry?" ian came over to you, hands grabbing yours whilst mickey got some water and pills for when you were sober.

"what are you sorry for, hm?" it took a few hums, and choked words before you had gotten it out. "i..didn't mean to take it, it just.." they knew what happened. you weren't the type to drink, do drugs, or anything of the sort.

you just wanted to have fun, but in the end you got pressured into drinking more and more. way too much for a first timer on top of that.

"shh, don't apologize for that okay? we know." mickey handed you a glass with cold water, setting the pills beside you.

"hey, take these in the morning okay? you're gonna have one hell of a headache and it won't feel good." you nodded at his words, taking small sips of the water.

at least you knew if you drank too much that you would throw up, so you set it down. "im tired." they got you down, heading upstairs to get you to bed.

"here..alright, get him undressed and i'll get him some new clothes."

mickey lied you down getting your shirt off , the cold air making your body shiver. "mngh..mick? wactha doin'..?" mickey smiled a bit, the way you were so confused was just funny to him, though the situation wasn't something to smile about.

"ugh..you wanna have sex or something..?" mickey snorted, bursting out laughing shaking his head. "no— im tryna get you in some different clothes, not fuck you."

"his clothes off?" ian had come back, a different shirt in his hands and some long shorts that hopefully fit you all the way.

"yeah, give 'em." it took way longer to put the clothes on whether than it did to take the original ones off but they got you in bed without too much trouble.

"we'll be downstairs okay?" ian gave you a kiss on your forehead hand in your hair. "if you need anything just call us."

you nodded your head, saying goodnight to them as they turned off the light and shut the door.

#bottom male reader #male reader #bottom reader #mickey milkovich #mickey milkovich x reader #mickey milkovich x male reader #shameless #shameless x reader #shameless x you #shameless x male reader #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #ian gallagher x reader #ian gallagher x male reader

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 6 months ago

Text

P*rn ☆

Chapter 4, Raw, next question

Masterlist

Word count: 1.8 k

Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Here we go babes! I hope ya'll like it. I am going to be very busy this weekend and part of next week, so I'll leave ya'll with this for the upcoming few days. Lots of love <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

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It's not like you to forget about watching a Red Crow video, but it totally slipped your mind after Tara started suggesting different single guys to you. Seems like she's known Sylus for a while and isn't stoked about the idea of you liking him. For some reason, that gets you going even more.

Sure, could be that he is a disturbed individual, but you figure it has more to do with his cold demeanor. It almost sounded like she was talking you out of talking to him again after her offer to give him your number. Almost like she suddenly remembered something. Could it be that she also knows about what he does? If that's the case, she's less innocent that you thought she was.

Either way, she kept you busy until there was a knock at the door and you realized it was already 2 am. No wonder you had been getting sleepy. 'I'll get it,' you offer, you brain fried once more but this time the sleepiness is to blame. Tara giggles in response.

You expected Kieran to come knocking so that Tara could drive him home. Instead, Sylus leans over you once more when you open the door, one hand on the top of the doorframe the other in his pocket. He's incredibly close, closer than one normally is when knocking on someone's door. Is he doing this on purpose?

The smell of whiskey and cigarettes hang around him like a cloud, mixing in with his cologne to create the most intoxicating smell you've ever smelled. His shirt is a little more unbuttoned than it was before and there's a slight pink tint to his cheeks. You figure he's drunk or close to drunk.

But then he speaks, and he sounds stone cold sober: 'Hey, can you tell Tara Kieran is sleeping over. He is in no state to move.'

'What happened to “taking it easy”,' Tara shouts from the couch. Sylus stands up a little straighter, removing his hand from the doorframe, and looking over top of me to Tara on the couch. He grins slyly.

'Nothing we haven't done before.' She hops off the couch and rushes over, looking slightly agitated.

'Sylus, that can refer anywhere from a gross shot to LSD,' she snaps at him. He leans down over her like he just had with me. Her eyes widen ever so slightly, and it almost looks like her hair is puffing up like an angry cat. Suddenly, you understand why she might've wanted to curb your interest in Sylus but the teasing tone that slips from his lips so easily gets you fucking going. Without really noticing it, you bite your lip for no more than a second while your thighs rub together.

He notices though. His eyes flicker over to you for just a second and his grin widens ever so slightly. 'No drugs. I quit that stuff. He's just very drunk.' Tara groans. 'You can check if you want.'

'I will,' she snaps as she pushes past the two of you and quickly disappears into Sylus’ apartment.

And suddenly, you are harshly reminded what happened the last time you and Sylus were alone. Reminded of that video that you still haven't fully watched. The first few seconds are engraved in your memory. Sylus, completely dressed with his hand slowly rubbing over the tent in his pants, low groans leaving his lips.

When you look up at him again, you swear he knows exactly what's going on in your mind. There's that sly grin on his lips again. 'Having a fun night?'

'Oh, fuck you,' you groan, and feel yourself puff up like Tara had as you cross your arms with an annoyed expression on your face. If he knows, you might as well cuss him out for it. He deserves as much, and he seems to like it as a rich laugh slips from his lips.

He leans even closer, still towering over you with his eyes focused on yours. You feel your cheeks and ears heat up like you've just shoved your head against a space heather. 'You know who I am,' he states. You can almost feel your attitude melt like snow thrown on a fire as you nod.

'You know what I do,' his voice is gravely, low, seductive. He's enjoying this. You nod again. No more snow, only fire. Fire in your loins and in your fucking ovaries. You are going to burst. He moves in even closer.

'Use your words, sweetie.' One of his two signature pet names for his audience. Your panties are soaked, your blood is boiling, and your attitude is back. Because, if he keeps this going, you two will be down and dirty right here in your doorway. Ain't no way you're letting Tara see you in that state.

'Back the fuck up before I jump your bones.' Maybe you should've just said the first part. His confidence wafers for a second before he realizes what you mean. He’s even closer now, his lips next to your ear, voice barely above a whisper.

'Did you like what you did to me?'

'Kieran is passed out,' Tara loudly announces before peaking her head around the corner. Before she can, Sylus moves back and crosses his arms, looking like he's bored out of his mind while you are bright red in the face. 'Sylus, help me get him in the car. We have plans tomorrow.'

'Yes ma’am.'

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3 am. The world outside is quiet, just like Sylus likes it. Kieran was a real pain to get in the car but at least he gets to listen to some records on his own now. Luke had left long before but Kieran always sticks. Sylus can only hope he'll be awake enough to walk into Tara's apartment when they get there.

Today had been interesting to say the least. He hasn't been this risky in a long time, teasing someone who clearly knows who he is. Could be a very awkward situation in the future if she ever grows over her lust for him, but for now he's fine. This could be a fun little game between the two of them. No one else needs to know, but what if he just films his content after he's seen her. Like how he did today.

Short conversation, make a video wearing what she saw him in, turn her on so he can listen to her sweet little moans pierce through the thin walls. He does need to keep his schedule though, otherwise it'd be too suspicious. On the other hand, no one would complain about an extra video occasionally.

The soft thud of the needle bumping off his record pulls Sylus out of his trance. The room is suddenly awfully silent. Then, he hears it.

The softest of whimpers.

He turns off the record player and walks into his room curiously. The sound is coming from the air extractor fan in the bathroom, just as it had this afternoon. The shower isn't running and your noises sound farther away, so it's possible that you're in your bedroom with the bathroom door open.

"Is she doing this on purpose," Sylus questions as he stands in the middle of his bathroom, listening to the sounds you make while his dick starts to strain against his pants. "Would she hear it if I did the same thing?"

His curiosity quickly gets the better of him. Just for good measure, he quickly sets up his phone to record on top of the toilet reservoir and presses record. Then, he moves to lean against the sink cabinet, his head thrown back as he rubs over the fabric of his pants, just as he had this afternoon.

He hears a particularly lewd moan and prays to the gods above his phone picked the sound up. His hand moves to his zipper and he undoes himself skillfully and fast. He takes his dick out of his boxers, not bothering to take his pants off. It's hard as a fucking rock and already leaking with just those little sounds.

"What is this woman doing to me?"

Lazily, he starts stroking his dick. Soft groans and moans slipping from his lips, suppressed in an attempt to still hear you through the vents. Then the prettiest picture slips into his mind.

You, laying on your back in his bed, naked. Heels planted on his mattress, legs spread, hands lazily pulling on the hair on the back of his head. That beautiful blush on your cheeks, looking desperate and longing for release while he drives his length into you. The little sounds you make, so much louder when he's this close, so much more beautiful. Your eyes focused on him and only him.

His hand starts moving faster, chocking his dick ever so slightly while his other hand grips the sink, knuckles turning white. An animalistic sound leaves his throat, a sound he's never made before. Something like a chocked growl.

God, that image. He'd lean in closer, wrap his arms around your body to pull you closer, his lips exploring the expanse of your neck and shoulders while your nails leave trails on his back. One of his hands would leave your body, move to your little bud of nerves to help you reach ecstasy.

Another growl leaves his throat, louder this time. He's getting so close after so little time. Is this really all because of you? Because some pretty girl showed interest in him? He's not sure, but the picture in his mind keeps getting more and more realistic. His eyes screw closed, head leaning forward now, his breathing heavy.

He'd sit down on his heels, pull you onto his lap and hold you close to his chest, as close as humanly possible, while picking up the pace and drilling into you. Your pretty little moans would get louder, would morph into his name so beautifully strewn out on your tongue, barely recognizable to anyone but him. And you'd bite his collarbone. The pain and pleasure of the whole thing tipping him over the edge, his hands bruising your skin, serving you the same mixture to help you fall into the abyss with him.

Hot ropes of cum lay on the tiles in front of Sylus while he tries to catch his breath. He doesn't hear your voice anymore, so you must be done as well.

"What the hell just happened?"

He steadies himself and grabs his phone from the toilet reservoir, stopping the recording. Before he can throw the thing to the side again, he gets a notification on his video from this afternoon. When he opens it, the name and profile picture look awfully familiar. It's you, there's no denying it. His lips pull into a grin when he reads your comment.

"Raw, next question."

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buckyalpine · 2 years ago

Text

Cheating Steve x reader, Steve x Sharon, Bucky x reader

How Bucky and reader get together

Warnings: angst, cheating, smut, Steve regrets his choices, Bucky is the sweetest, fluffff

Steve knew.

Not that it was surprising at this point.

What more could he expect after you walked in on him and Sharon months ago. It was never supposed to happen but he gave into the heat of the moment. He didn't have the excuse of being drunk or drugged. He was stone cold sober. No stressful mission increasing his stress.

Maybe you agreed to try and work things out but he knew from the heartbreak in your eyes and their void of warmth, the hurt was too deep.

And yet still.

He didn’t realize just how badly that hurt would be until he experienced it himself. He didn't even see it but could hear it and damn his enhanced hearing, he could hear every detail.

There was no loud banging.

No over the top, obnoxious moaning.

No spews of filthy words exchanged.

Which is why this hurt so much more.

Because it was real.

This wasn't about revenge or getting back at him for what he'd done to you. They had no idea Steve would be back so early. They had no idea he'd be standing outside, hearing everything. Steve stood outside of Bucky's bedroom, the flowers he held in his hand crushed, staying rooted in place, nostrils flared, eyes squeezed shut.

Bucky was making the softest sweetest most tender love to you and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He could hear the faint creak of the bed.

Your soft whines and whimpers.

Bucky's low moans and heavy breaths.

He was taking all his time in the world to touch you gently, making you feel good while also giving you all the pleasure he possibly could.

“You’re so pretty doll” It was just a whisper, but Steve heard it. He hated the mental images that came up in his mind each time you moaned a bit louder or the sounds of wet skin carried through the door. "My pretty girl"

Maybe it was a good thing he couldn't see. Because if he did, Steve would've seen the way Bucky's hand stroked your hair softly with each thrust. The way he looked at you with nothing but love. His lips kissing every bit of your face, nuzzling himself into your neck while his hands pinned you under him.

Steve would've seen the debauched mess on the sheets, messy and sticky with your mixed arousal that had been leaking out of you, the both of you unable to keep your hands off each other. He would've seen your legs tightly wrapped around his best friends waist while his cock stretched you open, his much larger body shielding you.

Steve wouldn't have been able to handle the way your eyes were glassy, tears slipping down your cheeks from how good it felt, both emotionally and physically. He would've hated seeing how blissed out you looked, eyes unable to focus, jaw slack each time Bucky pushed himself deeper, grinding his hips into you. You couldn't possibly be any closer and it still felt like it wasn't enough.

Steve would've lost his mind, seeing the way your both desperately clung onto each other, meeting each others thrusts, Bucky's thick arms moving from your hands to wrap around your body instead. He held onto you tightly, his pace faltering and Steve knew. He could hear the increase in breaths, the stutter of his movements making the bed creak irregularly, fuck he didn't want to hear this shit anymore but he couldn't move.

"I'm gonna cum baby"

Fuck.

"Cum in me Bucky"

No. He wouldn't.

It wasn't like he could stop it. Steve gritted his teeth hearing your muffled moans, it should've been him. It should've been you in his room, him making love to you, him making you feel good, him filling you up till you dripped onto his sheets, him desperately moaning and feeling good with you.

"M'gonna cum, m'cumming for you doll, hnngg" God, his best friend sounded so desperate and broken but Bucky would never, he wouldn't, he couldn't, he- "Fuckkk y/n, feels so good, cumming so much for you. Take it all, sweet girl"

Fuck.

He wouldn't have handled seeing the way Bucky's muscles tensed, burying his face into your neck, your teeth digging into his shoulder while he rutted into you, cock swelling and throbbing ropes of cum into you while you convulsed around him.

FUCK.

“I love you my doll”

No. She's not fucking yours.

God how he wished it was one sided, that you’d just moan in response. That you were just using Bucky as a rebound with no actual feelings. Steve knew you didn’t say those words in vain, you wouldn’t say it back, not unless-

“I love you too James”

Steve was going to burst through the door until a voice chirped behind him, tapping his shoulder, pulling him from his spiral.

"Those for me?" Sharon blushed, pointing to the now half destroyed roses Steve held, pulling his shoulder away from her.

"No" Steve's jaw clenched, shoving her touch away, his irritation growing when Sharon followed him down the hall.

"Don't tell me you're still thinking about that stupid bi-"

"DON'T" Steve turned back and glared at her, clenching his fists before he did something stupid, "Just- don't"

"All high and mighty now, are we?" Sharon spat while he shook his head, wishing she'd leave. "Y'know they've been sleeping together behind your back the entire time you were gone away for the mission. And you're still hung up on her? Now she's the one cheating on you"

Cheating. Was it cheating? He was never able to mend your heart after he broke it. He tried. He tried so hard.

"Doesn't matter" Steve replied while Sharon huffed, daring to follow him into his room.

"We only hooked up once. She's been fucking you're best friend ever since and you still want her back?"

"I fucked up first Sharon" Steve gritted but the blonde rolled her eyes in response. "It was my mistake that led to this"

"Mistake" She shook her head in disbelief, biting her bottom lip staring at the broken Captain in front of her, "So what we did was just a mistake?"

"Worst one I've ever made" Steve nodded, not bothering to look back when Sharon stormed off, the sound of Bucky's bedroom door opening making his ears perk up. He threw the flowers he brought for you to the side while he heard your soft footsteps approaching, his stomach churning when you appeared at his door.

You blinked, surprised at the sight of Steve sitting at the edge of his bed, a crushed bouquet of flowers sitting on the dresser while he was still in his tac uniform. Your heart was pounding, he wasn't supposed to be back until next week.

"You're back early" You kept your voice steady, hoping he wouldn't notice anything askew.

But you knew. There was no way he didn't hear. Even if he didn't, your hair was tousled, skin warm, you smelled of sex, smelled of Bucky. There was no hiding it; the Captain looking up at you with watery eyes, the tears threatening to slip they landed on your disheveled form..

"Does he make you happy?"

You swallowed before nodding, while Steve gave you a tight lipped smile in return. He didn't say anything else, a silent way of him letting you go, hanging his head when you turned back around, going back to the one who now had your heart.

He wished he had it in him to feel happy for you both. You deserved happiness and Bucky would've never done what he did. He closed his eyes at the sound of your happy giggles and squeals of laughter, Bucky's following right after before the door shut again, leaving Steve alone in his room.

He'd better get used to it.

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frudoo · 3 months ago

Note

I am a plague tonight and I’m making it your problem 💀

John Price x tattoo artist reader… he finds them cos they specialise in neo trad stuff. The boys keep teasing him that his tattoos are aging worse than he is, colour fading and lines blurring, so John decides to treat himself, have a little self care time getting poked.

Doesn’t hurt at all, not with that pretty face poking him. Doesn’t she look so sweet when she concentrates?! Obvs he can’t help but imagine what else he could absorb her time with.

Spoiler alert it’s him

Emmy! Here's nearly 1,850 words worth of a prompt you sent me last year (oops)

Warnings: Alcohol consumption. Needles, obviously. Suggestive. Fem!Reader. MDNI.

Muppets, the lot of them, guffawing at their beloved captain over the rims of their condensed glasses. John is far from tipsy but not quite stone cold sober, a nice buzz brewing in his brain. It blissfully distracts from the idiocy of his drunken team and their jabs at him.

“Fookin’-” Johnny hiccups, then continues. “Ah reckon they’re fookin’ ancient! Wha’, Cap, did ye steal yer designs from a bleedin’ museum? The- the hero… herogilfibs… the heir-?”

“Hieroglyphics, y’knobhead,” Simon snorts, smacking the back of the Scotsman’s neck as he finishes the last of his drink.

“Tav’s go’ a poin’, sir,” Kyle grins mischievously. “Ya tattoos really are lookin’ worse than ya face, ol’ man.”

“Shove it up your arses,” John rolls his eyes, tossing back the rest of his beer before slamming the bottle down on the table. “You’re all coverin’ my tab.”

Slurred protests and pleas fall from the other three men’s lips as John leaves the bar without so much as a look back. The cool rush of evening air hits him, and John breathes it in gratefully. The smell of booze was starting to give him a migraine.

As he heads in the direction of his flat, the streetlights illuminate what little of his tattoos show past the sleeves of his t-shirt. The guys are right—his tattoos that were once vibrant and full of color have dulled, much like… well, himself.

God, when’s the last time he did something for himself that didn’t include going out to the pub or rotting in bed all day while on leave? He’s not even fucking forty yet, and still his knees creak, and his face is bone-dry, and there is nothing to celebrate in his life besides the fact that he’s been able to avoid death for this long. He’s in desperate need of something to look forward to other than piles of paperwork and the crippling knowledge that his next mission could very well be his last. That’s hardly any comfort.

He checks his phone and grumbles when he sees that it’s only eight o’clock. Fucking hell, he’s displaying more old man tendencies than he thought. He weighs his options; there’s no way in hell he’s walking back into that pub and risking more lighthearted insults—or, worse, actually having to pay for his own drinks. He could head back home and climb into bed, staring at the ceiling until it hurts to shut his dried out eyes. Neither choice is more attractive to him. With a groan, he turns on his heel and heads in the opposite direction of his flat, determined to find something to occupy his time.

It’s either fate, luck, or some sick joke that he ends up standing face-to-face with a little tattoo shop. He scans the outside of the brick foundation, reading the poster that they have hanging in the window. There are three artists here that specialize in realistic black and grey, and another who specializes in color. Back when John first got his tattoos, he wasn’t interested in having a certain style, he simply just pointed at the wall and told his artist to put it on him.

John sighs and reluctantly walks into the shop, looking around at all the art on the walls. It’s beautiful, of course, with intricate details in both large and small works done by the talented artists. Hopefully they’re as good with tattoo machines as they are with pencils and markers.

“Can I help you?”

John turns toward the voice behind the counter, his eyes widening slightly as he sees, quite possibly, the most gorgeous woman to ever live. Captain John Price, the big, scary bear of a man, whose mere presence is enough to demand respect, stammers over his words.

“I-I, uh… I’m looking to g-get, erm…”

“Sir, if you don’t know what you want, you’re welcome to have a seat and figure it out, or stop wasting my time,” the deity raises an eyebrow and John feels all the blood in his body rush south.

“Tattoos! I-I need to get my tattoos… replenished?” He hums, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“Can I see what we’re working with?”

John is quick to roll up his sleeves, revealing sad, sun-worn ink. When your fingertips gently brush over the work on his freckled skin, he has to will every goosebump threatening to rise to stay beneath the surface.

“Damn, when did you get these done? The Renaissance era?” You joke, huffing through your nose as you look up at him.

“Been told they look pretty rough,” John grunts.

“Nothing I can’t handle. How much were you expecting to get done tonight?” You cross your arms over your torso—the man is fighting demons trying not to stare at the delicious crease of your cleavage.

“What time does the shop close?”

“How much money you got?”

“Touché.”

With a giggle that makes birdsong seem more akin to nails on a chalkboard, you lead him back to your station, plopping a clipboard of paperwork into his lap the moment he slides into the chair. Once he’s finished filling out all the forms, John takes a moment to admire the canvases decorating your area, humming with approval. It’s all clean, perfectly neat work. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’ll be able to turn the eyesore that is his old tattoos into something worthy of being displayed in a gallery.

You slump into your own chair, motioning for him to roll up his sleeve once again. He complies, of course.

“Since it’s just your bicep, I’m thinking we can get this arm done tonight if everything goes smoothly, which I expect it will,” you explain.

“Sounds good to me,” John smiles.

You grin in satisfaction, giving him a small nod as you snap on a pair of sterile gloves. While you shave and prep his skin, he leans back against the headrest, allowing his eyes to shut peacefully. It’s nice, knowing he’s doing this for his own benefit, not for the greater good of the world or the men in suits who order him around to do their dirty work for them. When he hears the first buzz of your machine, he opens one eye long enough to watch as you bring it to his skin.

“Ready?” You ask, and he hums his confirmation.

As expected, it doesn’t hurt. Not really. Compared to the countless injuries he’s sustained on the field—bullet wounds, knives to the abdomen, things he’d rather not think about at the moment—the pain is nothing. If anything, it brings him comfort. If he’s not hurting somewhere at all times, he tends to forget he’s alive.

“Considering you got these done back when dinosaurs were roaming around, it’s pretty good work,” you tease, and that makes his head perk up.

“Got jokes, do ya?” He muses.

“Oh, plenty. The night’s still young,” you wink up at him and John thinks he sees stars.

Truly, you are ethereal, tattoos of your own scattered across your supple skin. His crystal blue eyes trace over every inch of your face—the way your tongue catches between your teeth while you work on the smaller details, the scrunch in your brow as you trace over the thicker lines. You do the tiniest little dance between each stroke, and it makes him chuckle. He can’t help but admire you.

“Got a staring problem?” You tease, taking a break from filling in the outlines to wipe away the blood.

John’s face flushes, and he pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand in embarrassment. He’s hardly a humorless man, but the way you joke with him so freely has him blushing like an idiot.

“It’s okay. I’m used to elderly men checking me out.”

John groans as you cackle at your own words, but in reality it amuses him to no end.

“Do I really look that bloody old?” He grumbles.

“Nah, I’m just messing with you. You’re kinda… I mean, you’re a dilf,” you shrug.

“I’m a fuckin’ what?”

“Let’s just say that there’s a niche and you fill it perfectly,” you grin widely, enjoying the confusion written on his features.

He’s silent for a long moment, only the music playing over the speakers and the soft hum of your machine audible. Every time you move even slightly, his gaze follows. Normally, if it were anyone else you’d be uncomfortable, but he’s so charming and handsome. You welcome it, really.

“Do you have a wife? Kids?” You break the silence, meeting his eye briefly while you dip the needle into some more ink.

“Not hardly,” he answers, sucking his teeth. “Not for lack o’tryin’, though.”

“Sorry to hear that,” you bite your bottom lip, feeling bad for bringing the subject up.

“I’m not. It’s just reality that no woman goes after a grumpy ol’ man past his prime,” John chuckles humorlessly.

“Bullshit,” you roll your eyes. “You’re fucking hot. I bet there’s a whole group of women drooling over you that you’re not even aware of.”

“You seem pretty certain,” John raises his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth curling just barely upward.

��I told you, there’s a niche that you fill,” you double down on your statement, beginning to fill the linework of the final piece on his arm with color. “And, maybe, I just so happen to be an enjoyer of that niche.”

John’s heart skips a beat. His fingers twitch with excitement, and he can no longer hold back a smile.

“That right, love?”

“Ah, don’t go getting a big head, now,” you laugh, sniffling softly.

“Well, you sure know how to inflate a man’s ego,” he jokes.

“Keep that shit up and I’m charging you extra!”

“Do that and I won’t give you a tip.”

“Which kind?” You ask, biting back a snort as you watch his face contort with a scandalized look.

“Cheeky fuckin’ thing, you!”

Your shoulders bounce with your laughter as you finish the final touches of his last tattoo. You clean the entire area of his raw skin with alcohol wipes before carefully covering it with a few large pieces of saniderm. You smooth the wrap out gently, ensuring that there are no air bubbles. Satisfied, you lean back in your seat, disposing of your used needles and other supplies.

“You’ll leave this first saniderm on for about 24 hours, then you can take it off and gently wash the tattoos with unscented soap and warm water,” you explain, spinning your chair to face him. “You can come back to me tomorrow night, and I’ll replace the saniderm for you.”

“I’m all set, then?” He asks softly, pulling his wallet from his back pocket.

“Yes, sir,” you beam, telling him the amount he owes you. “Wait, one thing, though—I never asked for your name.”

“It’s John, love.”

“Well then, John,” you hum, handing him one of your business cards that oh-so-conveniently has your personal number written on the back. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The man slips your card into his wallet, radiant, sparkling eyes meeting your own as he stands.

“I guess you will.”

#ask me!#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #captain john price #john price x reader #john price x female reader #fem!reader #tattoo artist!reader

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cacoetheswriting · 17 days ago

Text

eddie my love | the right where you left me. epilogue

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (modern day au) word count: 4.1k

summary: in a frantic hurry, Eddie Munson admits he’s in love with you and to his pleasant surprise, the world doesn’t end. quite the opposite actually. it keeps spinning. maybe even a little bit faster? especially when, against your nature, you agree to stay.

content warnings: forced proximity, friends-to-enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, emotional hurt / comfort, a little angsty but overall fluff era, some serious mutual pining, use of pet names, plus mentions & descriptions of underage alcohol consumption / substance abuse, recreational drug use, discusses sobriety, also touches on topics of: death, grief, toxic relationships, self-doubt / insecurities, love triangle, unrequited love — pls let me know if i missed any!

psa: any images used in chapter headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also vaguely — if at all— described in the story.

To say a lot happened the night of your High School graduation should probably be considered an understatement. Lives changed. Drunken decisions made in a matter of seconds, by you, your friends, they affected the trajectory of everyone’s individual future like some fucked up Butterfly Effect, or whatever the hell the phenomenon is called.

A dramatic chain of events unfolded in front of your very eyes, but rather unfortunately, you don’t remember most of what occurred because you were dancing along that thin line of a mild hangover the next day and completely blackout drunk (queue instead a horrible hangover).

One thing stands out, for sure. The big thing. A motive (of sorts) that swayed the reasonings of your later dilemma: stay or leave.

Eddie Munson admitted his feelings for you, his best friend.

Sitting on a lounge chair in the back garden of Chrissy Cunnigham’s mansion-of-a-house. Your head resting on his shoulder, talking about plans for the summer, and beyond. With a shaky hand, Eddie removes the plastic cup from your grasp and intertwines his fingers with yours. He takes in a deep breath, which you can hear him exhale despite your inhibitions.

“I like you,” the metal-head says.

You giggle next to him, gaze glued to where his thumb presses into your wrist.

“Well, duh. We’re friends, asshat. I’d be surprised if you didn’t like me.”

Eddie shakes his head and twists, facing you. When you catch his pretty brown eyes, your cheeks bloom because there’s something behind his gaze that’s different to any other time he’s looked at you — which, for all accounts and purposes, is actually quite a lot.

“I like you as eh, as more than a friend.”

Upon hearing his admission, your heart fills with joy, growing like a balloon only inside your chest. The world stops spinning and for a split-second you feel stone cold sober. Eddie like-likes you. That fact makes you giddy because he’s perhaps the best person you have ever met and undeniably, he would make a phenomenal boyfriend.

But reality seeps in and a needle approaches the balloon faster than you’d like. A prick in the form of your ex-boyfriend Billy, who is the only other person on this Earth that’s ever admitted to liking you as anything other than platonic. That is until he died and although you can’t exactly prove the theory that people who love you die — since that list is only one, and that’s not enough data for any scientific research — you still don’t feel like tempting fate. Especially because now it’s Eddie saying these nice things and you need him as a friend more than you need him as something different.

“Eddie…”

“Look, I-I just… We could be really happy, angel. If you just gave me a chance.”

The memory is a little hazy. You want to believe you let him down gently, because that would be easier to digest considering what happened later that same night, but a part of you knows there was nothing gentle about how you handled his heart — Eddie’s version of the story corroborates this feeling you’ve carried.

A shove and quick escape from his grasp. Some irrational yelling about not seeing him in the same light and a very defensive stance on how he could do this to you, as if he’d committed some cardinal sin. There’s begging to forget about him ever saying anything (on his part) and some tears (also on his part). And the topic is put to bed. For now, you remain friends. The balloon has popped.

“I need a minute,” Eddie announces without looking at you and walks back into the house.

For a minute, you’re devastated. Thinking you made a mistake reacting the way you did, you consider running after the metal-head and apologising, blaming your nerves since you’d never actually admit out loud that Billy’s death has fucked you up in any considerable way. Then someone hands you a drink and as you down the burning liquid, you forget all about Eddie’s sad expression.

One foot in front of the other, you follow in his general direction with the intention of finding your girlfriends, Robin and Nancy. You want to tell them what just happened, while it’s still fresh in your mind. Instead, you bump into Steve Harrington.

Although it’s no excuse, it all happens really fast.

In the kitchen, you do a couple shots together, laughing and maybe even flirting. Definitely flirting. You don’t mean to. He’s just really fucking handsome and he’s showing interest a) because he finds you to be smoking hot, b) because he’s just as drunk as you, and c) because he has no idea his friend Eddie finally told you how he feels about you.

Bumping bodies, you move through the crowd of your classmates to find someplace private. Steve’s hand is on your waist as you do and a fire ignites within your gut. An emotional connection isn’t something you’re ready for quite yet, but something strictly physical? Well, you want this guy and you want him bad.

Steve’s mouth is on yours before the door even shuts behind him and the rumours are true: The King is a damn good kisser.

He’s got one hand at the back of your neck, the other strategically placed on the curve of your ass, squeezing. He smirks against your parted mouth, then lightly bites your bottom lip before leaning back down and the suave in his movements, the confidence, it all catches you off guard. Although, that could also be the alcohol. You’re both very tipsy.

Suddenly, your feet are up, off the ground. Legs wrapped around Steve’s waist as he props you against the closed door, closing that gap between you further. His mouth is hot against your skin, working its way across your jaw and down the nape of your neck.

At first, you don’t hear the knock on the door. Too lost in the sensation of Steve’s sultry voice, possessive touch, and honestly, literal BDE. But the knocking gets louder and then a voice calls out. A tone you know all too well. You freeze, once again feeling momentarily sober.

Eddie’s trying to push inside. He’s complaining about the resistance until he manages to get his foot in and Steve pokes his head of hair out.

“Dude,” is all Harrington says.

“Shit man, sorry,” Eddie fumbles, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

The expression fades quickly, however, since in the mirror across, Eddie spots your reflection. Hiding behind Steve’s frame, head buried in his shoulder. Your gaze is peeking out, staring ahead into the mirror too.

“What the fuck?”

Steve sees the look on his friend's face and realises immediately how badly he just messed up. He drops his hold on you and stumbles backwards into the room, allowing Eddie to open the door wider and step inside.

The metal-head doesn’t really care about his mate’s apology. His attention is solely fixated on you. The girl he’s into wholeheartedly and rather desperately. Also the girl who mere twenty minutes ago heard him spill his guts on the matter, and rather ungraciously, shot him down.

He’s angry. Why not him? How come you’re into Steve and not him?

“Fuck- Are you seriously going to listen to me tell you how I feel about you, then try and jump into bed with fucking Harrington?” Eddie’s in disbelief, instantly yelling with his arms stretched out as if he’s daring you to fight back. “You’re both supposed to be my fucking friends!”

“Dude, I-I didn’t know you finally said something.” Steve tries to intervene and calm his friend down. “Fuck, man, it’s no excuse but we’re both kinda drunk and this doesn’t mean anything.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and shoves Harrington out of the way before once again, peering directly back at you. You, who doesn’t want to indulge in this nonsense right now since it was just a stupid kiss. So, you turn back out into the hallway, hoping to find another drink.

Your best friend is hot on your heels. He grabs your arm, spins you around.

“You couldn’t even wait a day to soften the fucking blow?!”

“I fucking told you, Eddie,” you snap back, trying to free yourself from his grasp. “I don’t fucking feel the same way!”

Even though it’s not entirely true. At this moment in time, you’ve had one too many drinks and it’s easier to ignore, push down what you actually feel towards him, than address it. People you love die, the devil on your shoulder hisses.

“It’s just a stupid hookup,” you tell him. “You’re not my keeper, Eddie. Leave me the fuck alone.”

Eddie’s silent for a moment. The rage on his face disappears for a split-second, showcasing the sadness and heartbreak you’ve just caused. And if you were sober, you would’ve noticed it sooner – in the moment, as opposed to the next morning when you replayed this interaction in your head. But you’re wasted and Eddie annoyed you by announcing his feelings out of the blue.

“Do you realise you just shit on everything we’ve ever shared?!” Eddie’s pointing a finger, it’s close to your face and your anger spikes.

That’s when you definitely shove him. Or maybe you slap him? He’s suddenly holding your hand either way, preventing you from making this fucked up situation ten times worse, although, in your inebriated state, you don’t really care about optics. Jesus Christ, you don’t really care about anything other than finding another drink.

Undeniably hurt and riled, Eddie on the other hand wants answers and he wants them now. He pulls you through the next open door he sees and kicks it with a thud, right in Steve’s face. No witnesses because maybe if you two are alone, he’ll get you to tell him the truth: what makes Harrington better than him?

What transpires instead is a screaming match you don’t entirely remember the full details of.

Until that moment, you and Eddie have never fought. Not even a silly little argument over the most miniscule thing. He’s been your peace. He’s kept you grounded. Even when Billy talked shit in your ear about the metal-head, you always stood up for the curly-haired boy (much to your then-boyfriend’s dismay).

Standing in Chrissy’s childhood bedroom, your life explodes in front of your drunken eyes. You’re too lost in the alcohol wave to fully understand the repercussions of your words and even worse, your actions. Eddie however, he’s stone-cold sober. He’ll remember every single excruciating detail of this argument, and surrounding reasons, until the day his days on this Earth run out.

Which is why — in the heat of the moment — he calls you a slut and shoves the gifted red guitar pick into your grasp, no longer wanting to have any reminder of how much you mean to him on his body. You don’t want it either. Feeling like he’s policing you, plus that disgusting slut comment, you feel like severing this friendship. So you approach the window and before Eddie knows what’s happening, you throw the piece of plastic out the window.

Then, for good measure, you flip him off.

“Your behaviour is fucking desperate,” he spits in response.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

You leave him stewing in his own misery, slamming into his arm on your way out the door, and head back downstairs to rejoin the party.

A group of jocks is playing beer pong. One of them whistles in your direction, tipping his head towards the table, a wordless invitation to join them. You do. One game turns to two, then three. The taste of beer is rude on your tongue, even harsher on your stomach, and you’re reminded — a little too late — never decline the strength of your poison. If you must mix, the only way is up.

Excusing yourself, you stagger towards the front door. Fresh air slaps you in the face, doing very little to prolong the inevitable. In fact, it speeds it up. Bending over a plant pot, brown flume, a mix of vodka and beer, spills out of you in waves.

That’s the last thing you remember.

Eddie, having heard a string of apologies from his mate Steve, wants nothing more than to go home, smoke a joint and forget about this wretched night. He pushes through his drunken classmates, fetching a cigarette from the inside of his jacket. With the bud between his lips, he makes it outside, only to stop dead in his tracks.

You’re leaning against the porch railing.

Hesitantly, Eddie walks around you. His first instinct is to completely ignore the girl who broke his heart not even a half-hour ago, so after he hops onto the grass, lighting the cigarette, he’s really doing his best not to turn around. Then you make a coughing sound. An even worse sound follows after and the metal-head closes his eyes momentarily because he knows he can’t leave you here. Not like this.

“Come on, let’s go.”

He’s by your side, propping you up against him. Carefully, he guides your right arm around his neck and slides his left one around your waist. Stumbling over your own two feet, you barely make a straight line. Eddie’s holding you. Kicking rocks and twigs out of the way, so you don’t accidentally trip over them, sending both of you falling.

Eventually approaching the van, Eddie helps you into the passenger seat, clicking the seatbelt into place. His gaze scans yours and before he can help himself, Eddie places a gentle hand on your cheek. Thumb grazes along your muscle as your drunken eyes dilate. Something close to a smile tugs at your lips and Eddie’s heart clenches in his throat because he knows, judging by the glazed look on your face, you won’t remember this part of the night. Only the earlier fight.

Dropping his hand, Eddie offers you a bottle of water from the glove compartment and watches you take a few sips before closing the door. He jogs around the front of the car, sliding in behind the wheel. There’s one last longing look shot in your direction, but you’re not paying attention. Gazing instead out the window, into the night.

The drive to the Wheeler residence is silent.

In fact, no words are exchanged until Eddie helps you into bed.

Having taken off your bile-covered shirt and skirt, the metal-head lifts the sheet covers and guides you under. He places the half-drank bottle of water on the bedside table and is about to switch off the light, walk out and hope tomorrow you’re in a mood to talk, when you say his name. Faintly, at first. He’s not sure he’s even heard anything, or if his mind is playing tricks. Then you say it again, with more conviction, and when Eddie looks at you — what will happen to be the last time for the next three years — you reach for him.

“Thank you,” you croak when he hesitantly takes your hand.

Eddie squeezes your palm, eventually forcing himself to let it go.

“Always.”

Then you close your eyes, letting sleep take over, and Eddie drops your hand before walking out — this time without stealing a last glance.

Three years later and the lie of that always has finally stopped gnawing at the metal-head.

In a frantic hurry, Eddie Munson admits he’s in love with you and to his pleasant surprise, the world doesn’t end. Quite the opposite actually. It keeps spinning. Maybe even a little bit faster? Especially when, against your nature, you agree to stay.

Sitting together on the deck, feet dancing with the cold water beneath, you and Eddie talk.

A conversation that should have been had the morning after Chrissy’s infamous graduation party. Instead, a hangover of shame clouded your judgement back then, and Eddie’s ability to hold a grudge definitely didn’t help the matter.

Perhaps parting ways, not speaking for years — and getting sober — then circling the subject all weekend until it was almost too late, well, maybe all of that was for the best. It helped evolve you two into the people you are right this very moment. Two people who are finally willing to accept the love they definitely deserve.

“I uh,” Eddie clears his throat.

“You love me,” you say, tilting your head slightly in his direction.

He nods, once, slowly, then meets your eyes.

“I do.” Eddie affirms, “A lot, actually.”

A smile circles your lips.

“That’s nice.”

He scoffs a laugh, bumping your arm with his own.

“Well, fuck me then. I guess I take it back,” he teases and you playfully roll your eyes, telling him he can’t.

“All our friends heard you say it,” you point out.

Eddie smacks his lips together, pondering, and your gaze instantly shifts downwards from his chocolate-button eyes, landing shamelessly on his mouth. You want to kiss him, but that would be counterproductive. The spell is only broken when you feel the tips of his fingers reach for your own, currently resting on the wooden deck between.

Letting him hold your hand, you look out onto the lake.

“I had a really good weekend with you,” you admit quietly.

Eddie gently squeezes your fingers and after a beat of silence, he says, “I quit my job.”

Before your head even snaps back in his direction, eyes wide in disbelief, he lifts his free hand in the air to stop you from questioning his actions and jumping to conclusions, and continues talking.

“During breakfast, when you said we’ve only been surface level, I knew you were lying and I realised in that moment just how truly scared you are to feel happy because of what happened to Billy.” The metal-head explains, “After I stormed off, I called my boss at the station and I told him I’m quitting because I decided to come with you to Vegas.”

“Eddie—”

“Shh woman, let me talk,” he stops you with a timid smile. “I aim to prove to you, it’s okay to move on and leave the past in the past. The only way I can do that is if we’re in the same city.”

Life in Las Vegas became fuller with Eddie Munson by your side.

Your tiny apartment suddenly doesn’t feel as suffocating when the metal-head fills it with his trinkets, collection of vinyls, and gradually decorates the empty walls with prints and posters. Eddie gives your now shared home, life and in return you help him find a presenter job at a nearby station — a daytime slot, so you don’t have to spend your evenings alone anymore.

As weeks pass, you introduce him to the wellness hobbies you’ve picked up over the years. Hiking, yoga. Seemingly not a good fit for the dark academia vibe of your non-labeled boyfriend, but Eddie dives into these activities head first because they’re a part of the person you’ve become in his absence and this challenge he’s created (and accepted) for himself — “it’s okay to move on” — requires him to be completely willing.

Next on the agenda of assimilation is meeting your Vegas friends.

Jax being first on the list and although you worried about a potential stand-off of male egos, the two guys click immediately, mainly bonding over their shared priority: your happiness. Later on, at a house party Jax throws, Eddie meets the remainder of your new friend group: Chiti, Savannah, and Sammy. People the metal-head only recently became aware of, but a group that undoubtedly cares for you just as deeply as the Hawkins crew.

And speaking of which, they eventually also make their way down to visit — as promised. The six of you cram into your small apartment, squeeze like sardines in a metal tin, but no one complains because you’re together again, if only for a short period of time.

When it’s just you and Eddie, Earth slows down.

His willingness to simply be there for you makes your heart grow tenfold, and you become more and more obsessed with him. Every single morning, brown-eyes find yours and he whispers he loves you, then kisses you softly. Never once forcing you to say it back, although you feel it. With every fiber of your being, stronger each day, you feel the love you have for him.

One evening, about four months into living together, labeless, but with certain strings attached, the two of you are cooking dinner together. Eddie has just come home from work and you wrapped up an assignment, it’s quiet and blissful.

Sitting at the kitchen island, while Eddie is chopping vegetables and telling you about his day, you realise that it has been a while since you’ve thought about Billy. Honestly, if you had to say, you wouldn’t be able to point out at all when exactly your dead ex-boyfriend crossed your mind for the last time.

And you realise right then and there, you’re no longer scared. Eddie has completed his challenge.

So, without giving it a second thought, you blurt out the three words he’s been longing to hear from you for as long as he can remember.

“I love you.”

His head snaps up, gaze catching yours. Seeing the conviction written all over your features, he drops the knife onto the wooden board and rounds the cabinets, approaching you like a moth to flame. His ring-clad fingers grip your face gently and he’s fighting back a smile, which makes your own mouth twitch upwards.

“Are you sure?”

He’s not certain exactly why he asks the question. Maybe because he wants to hear you utter those words again, and you do, with even more fervour.

Nodding, you say, “I love you, hotshot.”

Grinning like an idiot, Eddie lowers his body, lips smashing against yours in an elated kiss because you love him, and he loves you, and all is going to be okay. The past is the past. You’ve both overcome the associated demons and now you’re here, together.

In love.

Parking your car at the desired destination, you glance out the half-opened window and note how the weather is far from ideal for the planned activities.

It’s cold. Cold enough to make anyone's atoms shiver. Dark grey clouds cover every inch of the sky above, hiding the beautiful autumn sun. The air is brisk. It’s harsh against your skin as you eventually get out of the red Jeep and the unwelcoming breeze that follows makes you wish that you had packed warmer clothes for this weekend.

Déjà vu.

A heavy jacket is draped over your shoulders and you smile, tugging it closer to yourself while looking behind for its wild-haired owner. Eddie winks at you, then opens the boot to grab both of your bags as the door of the lake house swings open and Nancy runs out, arms spread wide as she squeals with excitement.

“You’re both here!”

The hug Nancy gives you is strong, almost full force — pretty much the same as the one she embraced you in at exactly this time last year, in this very same spot. Her arms are wrapped tightly around you and you instantly hug her back, a small smile circling your lips.

“Of course we’re here,” you tell her, pulling back. “It’s not every day your friends organise a weekend getaway to celebrate their engagement!”

She beams and not-so-casually lifts her hand to show off the elegant rock gracing her ring finger. Then, just as quickly, she pulls you by the arm, into another quick embrace and whispers in your ear, “You’re next.”, earning herself a nudge in the side because, even though, you’ve been going steady with the metal-head for just under a year, you’re nowhere near ready for marriage.

Although, marrying Eddie Munson would be far from a travesty.

After saying hello to your brunette boyfriend, Nancy leads you both into the lakehouse. Not much has changed inside, yet the wow effect is still as strong. The rest of the group — Jonathan, Steve, Argyle, Robin — are sitting outside, on the patio. They jump up excitedly when they see you and Eddie, greeting you both like no time has passed (because really, it’s only been a couple of weeks).

Eddie makes himself comfortable next to you, hand on your thigh. He instantly engages in conversation with Jonathan, while you look at Steve. He offers you a cigarette, then lights the bud for you. After a moment of huffing smoke, he leans in closer and with a tender smile on his face says:

“It’s nice to finally see you happy, sweetheart.”

And this time around, right here, in this place where, last year, you’ve reconnected with not only yourself, but the best people in the world, where you met Eddie Munson all over again, opened yourself up to him and fell in the process, the sentiment surrounding your joy is true.

“I am,” you say, leaning your back into Eddie. The primary source of your happiness. Yours forever.

as always, thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

to all you babes, thank you for loving this little labour of love. i literally can’t believe we’re at the end of this story 🥲 obsessed with every single person that’s liked, reblogged, commented, and overall enjoyed reading this fic. i love you all forever and ever - until next time!

lastly, tagging some cool people that expressed ongoing interest in this story:

@ali-r3n @thelazyarchangel @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @peculiarwren @fxoxo @losingmygrasponreality @kellsck @sp1dyb0y1008 @mmmunson @somethingvicked @darknesseddiem @scream4mami @pineapplechuncks @sophiejayne-illustrations713 @emxxblog @bl0ssomanddie @theladyhellfire @gracelouiseoneill @emquinn94 @transparent-enemy @rach5ive @knew-better-forever-girl-two @lemonmarquee @mossgh0st @probablyin-bed @dustbowleddie @residentoftomlinsonsass @heart-eyed-love @munsonburn3r @helsa3942 @althaiareads @theladyhellfire @v1per1ne @sugarplumsweetiepie @rizzraa @micheledawn1975 @gracelouiseoneill @moremaple @bigpoppascherry @jeangeniex @daisy-munson @ceeezy @kissmyacdc @cyressluvy @mango-slush-boba @iyskgd @bigpoppascherry @everlove @tieganspeirs

#this is it guys; the end #thank you for being a part of their story just as much as me (if not more)#right where you left me.#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson slow burn #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson series #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader

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ddejavvu · 9 months ago

Note

the party’s long been over, and hugh is trying his hardest not to give into the not-so-subtle advances coming from his best friend’s drunk daughter. maybe he gets a little protective and even scolds her over how drunk and stupid she is. he doesn’t stop lecturing her even when he fingers her to shut her up.

send me dbf!hugh jackman thoughts!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

contents/warnings: dbf!hugh jackman, dubcon (reader is tipsy), don't like don't read.

this is a little more soft than it is mean but i couldn't help myself I'm sorry </3

god i nearly came. i'm picturing him all spread out on the couch, he'd been watching whatever was on tv but now that you've cornered him and sat on his lap he's trying his hardest to refocus his attention there. you're draped all over his lap, and he's getting hard from the way you're squirming on his lap but he's trying to will it away because he doesn't wanna be the douchebag who takes advantage of the younger woman.

you're begging for it, kissing relentlessly at his mouth while his hands frame your hips, holding you steady but not pushing you away like he knows he should. He's not kissing you back, or maybe he is, but it's almost imperceptible, nothing more than a soft tilt of his head or a sigh against your mouth as he thinks about giving in and licking against your lips.

"Please. Please, I want you, and I- I don't care about my dad. He- he doesn't have to know." You plead, hands braced on his chest as you peck his lips between every few words, "No one does, I- it can just be us, just one time, just- just for tonight, please?"

"You're drunk. You're drunk, honey, and that's not fair." He murmurs, and you take advantage of the way his lips move to form the words as you kiss him more vigorously, "I can't do that to you. Even if you weren't- I'm older than you, and I couldn't-"

"You can! I want you to," You nearly sob, face screwed up and chin wobbling as you grind desperately onto his chubbed up bulge, "Please, just once! Just once, I need- I need you, I need something so- aagh! so bad!"

"I can't do that to you." He insists, but his cock is steadily betraying him as it stiffens under your ministrations. He wants nothing more than to just give in but he can't, he'd feel dirty, tainted, perverted.

His heart aches, physically aches as you lay flush against him, writhing with need as he watches on.

"I can't fuck you." He repeats, raising a hand to cup your cheek, "Sweetheart, we can't do this. Not- not now, not like this, m'kay? Wait 'til morning." He croons, trying to placate you, but when you take his hand in your own he realizes that his resolve is weakening- maybe he can offer you something.

He's defeatedly still, and he should pull his hand away when you desperately grab onto it, but he doesn't. You bring it between your legs and press it to your cunt- he can feel the warmth even through your panties.

"I shouldn't," He tries again, but his hand seems to move of its own accord, betraying the rest of him as it slowly eases its way beneath your soaked panties and rubs gently, experimentally at the entrance of your cunt. You're wet in a way that suggests you've been needy all day, and he takes that as solace if it means you were stone cold sober when this all began.

"We shouldn't be doing this, sweetheart." He hums, leaning down to press a pointlessly chaste kiss to your head where you've nestled it into his chest. Despite his words he drags a thick finger through your pussy, adding a second when it's clear you don't need to be prepped.

"I love you." You whine pathetically, craning your neck upwards to stare at him through the sheen of barely-there tears in your eyes. You cling onto his arm to ensure that his fingers stay buried in your cunt and you kiss messily at his chin when you can't quite reach his lower lip.

"You're drunk." This time it's a scold, a light one but a scold all the same as he lets you rub yourself on his fingers, "Just because you're old enough to drink doesn't mean you need to do it like this, hm? Now if you weren't like this things could be different. I could give you more."

"I want more," You whimper, squirming on his lap and tugging his hand impossibly closer as you grind on it, "Please- please?"

"Not now." He hums, using his other hand to settle you down against his chest again while his wrist aches slightly at the contorted position you're holding it in. "After this you're going to bed. And we'll talk in the morning."

"I'll still love you in the morning. I have for a long time." You warn him, words muffled against the shirt over his chest.

He chooses not to respond- he's not sure how he could say anything that would properly sum up his feelings as he rubs his fingers through your cunt- but he knows at the very least that the feelings he can't put into words are truthful, and they'll remain in the morning even if yours don't.

#hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman smut #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman imagine #hugh jackman oneshot #dbf!hugh jackman

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revelboo · 2 months ago

Note

This is all I can think of with reader and their bug husbands

BUG TIME

To be fair, they haven’t really explained anything to their poor human. They’d just assumed humans bonded for life, too. That they felt the bond and knew what it was, so they’re a little betrayed and a lot angry right now

You (Don’t) Know Me Pt 14

Insecticons x Reader

• Whatever they’re doing, it’s starting to feel good. Cheek on the rough stone under you as that buzz sinks deeper into you loosening the fear and stress until you’re floating in a warm haze. Are you getting high off whatever they’re doing? Know you should be fighting to get away, but can’t seem to get your limbs to cooperate. Can feel that pleasant hum down in your bones.

• Venting as they finish, Bombshell shifts away from you and you just stare owlishly up at him. Not even bothering to get up. Transforming, he hooks an arm around you and hands you over to Kickback. And you just lay in his brother’s arms, strangely docile. Growling, he levels a servo at Shrapnel. “I have business with Shockwave. Make sure our queen doesn’t get lost again,” he growls, your betrayal still hurting him. What queen abandons their hive like you had?

• Shifting you in his arms, Kickback carries you to their nest. Sitting with you in his lap as Bombshell leaves, he wants to ask why you’d run. Hadn’t they been taking care of you? And you’re strangely quiet after the fit you’d thrown getting hauled back home by Bombshell. Watching Shrapnel transform and restlessly pace in front of the cave entrance, he can sense his brother’s tension. His anger. Not even surprised when Shrapnel rounds on him and you, crouching down.

• “You just take off without a word, word?” He demands, gripping your chin when you won’t even bother to look at him. And your eyes are hooded, pupils blown. “Well? Nothing to say for yourself, self?” Venting when you just smile emptily at him before reaching to pat him. In the face. Frustrated, he turns his ire on Kickback. “Let’s take a human queen, queen,” he sneers, mimicking Kickback to make his brother hiss.

• Pleasantly warm, it’s hard to focus, brain struggling to make sense of Shrapnel’s anger through that fog. “Of course I ran away,” you manage. “You guys are terrible bug husbands. You kidnapped me and threatened to eat me.” What had they expected? That you’d be happy in a cave under threat of becoming dinner if you didn’t play queen?

• “You fully bonded to us. Accepted us,” Kickback mutters, annoyed and you snort at him. ‘Threatened to eat me,’ you repeat, tapping a finger against his visor to make him recoil and bare his denta. “Not after we bonded you.” And your eyes narrow at him. Like you don’t believe him and he glances at Shrapnel. You can’t be serious. You have to know. They asked and you’d answered. Submitted to the bond.

• “You’re bonded to us, us,” Shrapnel growls and you arch your brows at him. “For life. Don’t humans bond, bond?” And it clicks when you just stare blankly at him before something like alarm crosses your expressive little face. Realization sinking in that you really do know nothing. That you’d accepted them without even knowing what you were agreeing to, that knowledge leaving him oddly empty. You hadn’t chosen them. Not really and now it’s too late.

• For life? That warm buzz is washing out of you to leave you cold. What if you don’t want to be queen of the bugs for life? Because living in a cave with them from now on? With no escape? Absolutely not. And you’re completely sober now. Especially when Shrapnel grins showing sharp denta. “Do you know what will happen to you if you don’t bond with us regularly, little queen, queen?” Shrapnel growls as your skin prickles all over. Because you’re positive you’re not going to like whatever he says next.

#transformers x reader #insecticons x reader #g1 bombshell #g1 shrapnel #g1 kickback

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heartowan · 7 months ago

Text

★WINTER VISITOR: jason todd x reader.

( first part here !! ; afab!reader, cuss words, smoking, sexual content ) ────────── ★

"It's you again." You murmured, your voice sounding extra quiet now that it was past midnight. You could see the tired look in his eyes as he sat down on the wooden floor of your porch, his legs stretched out in front of him, reminding you of the position he was in that day you found him bleeding right there, at that same spot.

It had been a few weeks, maybe two and a half... and there he was: the Red Hood, back at your house, looking up at you with those white shining eyes of his ridiculous helmet.

"Yeah, it's me." He said, and before you could even process or think about the modulated voice, he removed the helmet. Now, only the area around his eyes was covered by that little domino mask.

You didn't like smoking inside, so you often went out to the porch for this sole purpose. To smoke a blunt. It calmed you down, though you didn't enjoy the actual action of smoking that much. It was... er, alright.

You exhaled the smoke slowly, and that was when he noticed what you were doing. "Can I be really honest with you right now?" He murmured, still looking up at you. You offered a soft grunt as a response, and he continued: "I would never, ever, in any possible circumstance ever, guess that you were a stoner." He said, a light chuckle following his words.

You furrowed your eyebrows, something that you seemed to do a lot in his presence, but you weren't offended in the slightest.

"Well... uh, thanks?" You mumbled with little interest. "I do it mostly for the buzz."

"I guessed you'd say that." He teased, a little stupid grin on his lips, and you glared at him.

"What's that even supposed to mean?" You inquired, a faux-offended tone in your voice.

"Nothing, nothing." He snorted, leaning his head back against the wall.

"What are you doing back here anyway?" You asked, now moving to sit down close to him. Honestly, you didn't really mind that he was who he was right now. You were stoned, tired and... didn't give a shit. You'd probably still sit in the same spot if you were sober.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "Was passing by and saw you out." He looked over at you, watching as you sat down beside him as he spoke. "Can I have a drag?"

"Sure." You mumbled, handing him the blunt. Woah, now you were gonna share saliva with him. Where the hell was your life going?

You mimicked his position, leaning your head against the wall. The night was freezing. You two probably shouldn't be outside, but you were covered in your warmest clothes, and he didn't seem to be cold, so you brushed your own concerns off.

"I looked you up, by the way." He murmured, handing you the little joint back. "Not much out there."

You arched one eyebrow at his words. Oddly enough, this time you weren't weirded out. "And you're admitting it?"

"Uh, yeah." He shrugged, letting out a soft huff. "Trying to make conversation or something." You laughed at that. What the hell was this guy's deal?

You didn't seem to be angry at him, so he kept talking to you. The whole thing was unusual for both of you. Talking to strangers (sorta) and being comfortable while doing so wasn't something that happened often in your lives.

You two spent hours and hours talking, even after you finished the blunt. It was nice, and even though it was still freezing, you two weirdly didn't bother by it. Maybe it wasn't that cold.

When you woke up the next day, you were in your bed, all tangled up in your sheets. You didn't even know how you got there, but you felt light, like you had a good night of sleep. Also unusual, because every time you smoked, you had the shittiest sleep of your life, but it seemed like this time had been different.

You picked up your phone, and as soon as you unlocked the screen, there was a text notification from a contact that you didn't recognize.

It was a red heart emoji, just that, and the text said: "If you're wondering, yes, I was the one who put you to bed. And yes, I snooped around your room 😝"

You rolled your eyes at that and tossed the phone down on the matress.

★...

More often than not, your few friends noted how affectionate you were. Always giving them little touches, brushing hair back, playing with the strands, fixing their clothes, stroking their arms with your fingers, even tying their shoelaces. It was all so you.

You didn't have many people close to you, and not because you were a loner, simply because you valued your hodiernal connections enough and didn't feel the need to look for anything else at the moment. You liked your friends, in fact, you loved them.

So, when that guy in the red helmet started showing up at your porch at ungodly hours at least three times a week, you started to consider adding him to your circle of friends. It wouldn't harm anyone, he was nice, and your friends wouldn't know anyway.

He was surprisingly talkative with you. You always expected those harsh and violent vigilantes to have harsh and violent personalities even when they weren't doing their job, but he was cool. He talked about a lot of things with you just to keep the conversation going, and you thought it was cute.

"... so... hey, did you get a new lamp?" He asked as he flopped down aggressively on your couch, interrupting his own line of thought. He was asking you about the neighborhood cat before.

You nodded at that, standing across from him while you fixed the little Christmas hat that had fallen off your bookshelf. "Yeah, the other one I had broke. I kinda bumped into it."

He hummed at your explanation, and you recognized the sound of his helmet being taken off. Always, as soon as he got comfortable in your house, he removed it.

While you had some trouble getting the Christmas decoration to stay in place, he stared at your back. Taking in your little green and red pajamas, your slightly messy hair, the dark green socks on your feet, and the way you seemed to be struggling terribly to get the Christmas hat to stay up. Adorable.

He stood from the couch and walked over to help you. "Let me try." He said, gently nudging your hands away. You sighed and let him.

You watched his concentrated face as he tried to put the little red and white hat in a position where its own weight wouldn't make it tumble. He looked nicer up close.

"It's Jason, by the way." He mumbled, eyes focused on fixing the hat. You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"My name. It's Jason." He explained.

He already knew yours. You had told him a few weeks ago when you shared a blunt for the second time.

"Ah, alright." You mumbled back to him, trying not to sound surprising. Jason. It was a cute name, and it seemed to fit him. "Fits you."

He finally got the hat to stay up, and he turned to you with a big, proud smile. You found it quite adorable how much he smiled around you. You didn't know if he was like this all the time, but you chose to believe it was a unique thing.

You two just stared at each other for a moment, him proud of his achievement, and you thankful for his help.

"Do you know how profound your eyes are?" He blurted, making a stupid face at you. Truly, he was gazing deeply into your eyes.

"If this is you trying to hit on me, you're failing." You retorted, a little smile appearing on your lips.

"Just saying." He shrugged, stepping back a bit. "I fixed your hat. You're welcome."

You watched as Jason walked back to your couch, flopping down onto it once more and letting out a lazy groan. His eyes closed, and he let out a tired sigh.

"Rough night?" You murmured, sitting down beside him. Your couch was comfortable and fit up to three people. Most of these nightly visits were spent in it, talking away. It was all too cozy.

Recently, he had started placing his arm around you when you sat closely, that and gently caressing your hair. And, this time, it wasn't different. As soon as your head touched his shoulder, his arm was around you, and his fingers started threading through your hair.

When you got closer, spending time with Red Hood Jason became something like spending time with yourself. Despite the absurdly different lifestyles, you two had a lot in common.

Like physical touch as a love language, liking sweet tea, reading, staying up until dawn, and, of course, being each other's secret. Nobody knew about your midnight visitor, and nobody knew where he went when he became unreachable past midnight.

"Yeah, rough night." He said, his voice becoming softer as he steadied himself with your help, the help of your presence, of your proximity. "Just, like, lots of stupid people making my job even harder."

"I get it." You murmured, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He was to your left, his right hand playing with your hair while you half-rested your back on his chest. It wasn't awkward anymore. You weren't even sure it ever was. "It used to be like that at my old job, and then I got a job at that little bookstore close to Gotham U."

"Mmm." He nodded, tilting his head a little in your direction, but his eyes remained closed. "You think you'd recognize me if I went there in my normal clothes?" There was a faint smile on his lips as he muttered those words.

"Probably." You said smuggly. "That little mask doesn't hide much."

"True," he chuckled softly, his eyes fluttering open to look down at you. They still look tired, and you had no idea if you'd ever see him looking not-tired. Maybe cause you've never seen each other after a good night of sleep. "But, they hide the most important part of my face. You can see the color of my eyes, yeah, but you don't know what's the shape of them or anything."

"Makes sense. Yeah, I think I wouldn't recognize you at first, but I'd recognize your voice, for sure." You said.

"What? Is it special or something?" He smiled at you, his fingers giving your ear a light, playful tug. "I bet you wouldn't recognize that either."

You gasped dramatically, hand cluching chest as you looked at him with the dumbest smile on your parted lips. "How dare you doubt me?" You inquired, your tone dripping of sarcasm.

"I mean..." he mumbled. "I guess you might recognize it. I don't know... we'll- we might see it one day." He fumbled over his words, his cheeks reddening. You got him flustered by making fun of him.

You wondered if that guy snuggled up with you on your couch, mumbling and fumbling over his words because of you was the same guy that beat and killed criminals in the deeps of Gotham. How could he be so... him? People have layers, yes, but this man is unbelievable.

Everything went quiet for a few minutes, only the faint sounds of your breathing and the soft hum of the heater could be heard, but those were muffled by the pull of your gazes on each other. He couldn't stop staring at your face, at your nose, at your lips, at your forehead, at your eyes. Like he'd never seen something so flawless, so polished, so complete ─ all he needed.

And you stared at him, at his mask, at the paint around his blueish-green eyes, at his chapped, but rosy pouty lips, at his straight nose, at his cheekbones, his chin, the white and black locks that fell on his forehead, his ears and the small earings on them. Like you'd never seen someone so unique, that seemed to be right there for you. Just for you.

You sighed when the staring contest became too much, but neither of your gazes strayed. His eyes focused on your lips, and you'd recognize that look in any light.

"Can I be really honest with you right now?" You murmured, and you could see a little smile creeping on his lips when he registered your words. Or, his words. He offered a soft "mhm" in response. "I want to kiss you so fucking bad. I think I might die if I don't."

"You might die?" His tone was soft, slightly mocking. "I don't think I'd like for that to happen."

"It'd be all your fault..." you taunted, giving him ridiculous puppy eyes. But, he was ridiculous too, and they worked so well on him.

He simply chuckled at you, and in half a second, his hand in your hair was used to push your head closer to his face as he leaned in, capturing your lips in the softest kiss you've ever shared with someone. It was lazy, he wanted to adjust to your pace, to let you guide, and you kept it deliciously slow and delicate, your heads moving and lips touching each other in a way that was simultaneously so tender and so sensual.

His hand slid to your cheek, holding you closer and caging you in his embrace while you raised a leg and placed it right on top of his, draping it over his lap, almost to mimic his hold on you. He used his left arm to pull you even closer by that same leg, your chests touching as the kiss became more intense and your tongues met.

He parted his lips to invite it, and you gladly accepted, sliding it inside of his mouth and caressing his own languidly and in a pleasant way, earning a hum from him that you swallowed in your kiss.

The feeling of your lips on his, his hands on you, his tongue on yours... way more satisfying than you'd ever imagined. You didn't think he'd feel so good on you.

His hand on your leg pulled you on his lap, the kiss becoming sloppy as you both shuffled on the couch to get you into a straddling position, each one of your thighs beside and squeezing his, your knees digging into the soft cushions of the couch as the kiss started getting a little more intense.

After all this time knowing and wanting each other, even if the attraction was suble, you'd expected wildness, despair, hands clutching clothes, teeth clashing, lips being biten, but that wasn't happening. What was in the air was need, tenderness, longing, and comfort, almost like it was a normal Thursday.

But it wasn't, and the both of you knew that. It was something new, something that you had yet to explore with the other. You were, of course, stepping into uncharted territory, a land which you knew nothing about. How would it be from now on? He'd still come almost every night? You'd still text constantly? Would you still call him in between your breaks to gossip about your boss? Would things get difficult and complicated?

These thoughts made you pull back from the kiss. Fucking anxiety. The pleasant and wet pop of your lips parting would've made you smile if you weren't so preoccupied. "Sorry." You mumbled into his lips. "Thinking too much."

"Don't worry, I get it." His nose brushed yours, and his heavy, warm fingers slipped under your shirt. He was panting a little, his cheeks, lips and neck flushed. He wanted you so bad. "If... you just want to chill and hang out like we usually do, we can just try to go back to that. Don't overthink it, okay? This doesn't doesn't have to be complicated."

You furrowed you eyebrows at him. "I don't see how this would not be complicated." He smiled at you, at your words, at whatever. He was, honestly, just glad to have you there, on top of him, speaking to him with your pretty voice after he had your tongue down his throat.

"I mean... like, don't think too much. I know it's easier said than done, but I think we'll figure it out anyway." He explained, his words sounding so sweet as he obviously spoke in a way that you just knew was an attempt to comfort you. "I don't wanna sound stupid and mushy, I really don't, but... yeah, I want with you... whatever you want with me. As long as you're happy and satisfied."

"Jason, what the hell do you mean?" You mumbled, narrowing your eyes at him. He laughed at your tone.

Saying his name felt weird. Until some time ago, you only called him Red Hood. But it also felt right, felt closer, deeper, maybe even made you feel warmer inside. The both of you.

"That I like you and I'm happy to be here, doing this with you." He said. "I don't know if it's too fast, maybe it is, but I'm in for it if you are."

Jason squeezed your waist, his eyes glued to yours as he waited for your response. His fingers caressed your skin, the palms of his hands heating up your sides while the pads of his digits squeezed your soft derm.

"I like you too." You whispered, almost afraid of your own words, but he was just marveled about how sensitive and sincere you sounded. "I'm in."

He offered you a gentle smile, warm and inviting, and you smiled back, your eyes crinkling at the corners. That sight reminded him of something.

"Take it off for me?" You looked confused at his request, a little curious pout on your lips. "The mask." Oh.

Carefully, your fingers reached for the black domino mask around his eyes. Even though you were excited to finally see what was under there for so long, you weren't hesitant. It peeled off easily, and you caught a glimpse of his temple once you started pulling it away ─ in five seconds, there he was. Jason.

He had black paint smeared around his eyes, but you could see him clearly even under the dim, warm lighting of your living room. You two were so close that you could see almost all of his lower eyelashes, but the top ones merged with the paint. You couldn't take that.

You wiped the oily paint away with the bottom of your shirt, just hoping it was washable. He simply let you. And in a minute, you finally had him there. All of him, all of his face.

"Your eyes are pretty." You murmured, hands now coming up to craddle his face. "Like, the shape."

"You think?" His voice was low and soft as he asked, and he received a nod in response. He loved when you complimented him, and you didn't do it often. "Kiss me?"

You just nodded again. You'd never dare refuse him. Your met him in a more certain kiss this time, now used to each others lips. He squeezed your waist once more, pulling you closer to him as the kiss intensified. Your clothed cores rubbed and chests pressed together with the movement, and you two grunted at the contact.

Your hands slid down to his shoulders, then to his biceps. You just had to grasp at them. And his own went up to your back, making you tingle. It was already too much, yet not enough.

You moved your hips against his, searching for more of that sensation from just a few seconds ago, and in no time, he was guiding the movements, his hands on your waist, moving you back and forth. The friction was delicious, and it made you both moan in each other's mouths, the sounds making everything so much more pleasant.

His mouth left yours only to press at your cheeks, going up to your temples, and then back down to kiss under your ear, then all over your neck. He just wanted to swallow you whole, but while he couldn't do that, he'd have to settle for kissing you all over.

He painted your neck with red marks, his lips sucking and leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach. Your hands went to his hair, sometimes tugging at his locks, sometimes caressing his scalp. He couldn't get enough of your touch, of your body against his, of your skin. He needed you.

You kept moving against him, rubbing yourself on his crotch to try and soothe the want you felt inside. You couldn't feel that much through your pants. They were thick to keep you warm, but you felt hot enough already.

Jason's hands around your waist lifted you up from his lap with ease, then guided you down to lay on your back on the couch, and you pushed some pillows to the floor on the process so you could fit better. He straddled your hips and pulled his shirt off all while you stared up at him with your pretty eyes.

You didn't hold back when you felt the urge to touch him, your fingers tracing his abs so carefully, caressing all of the skin you could reach without sitting up. His skin was littered with scars, and the ugly gash from before was healing slowly ─ it was still a red, long scar on his chest, its color showing that it wasn't fully healed yet, but much better than before. It wasn't that deep of a wound, but with him constantly having people beat him, neither of you expected it to heal quick and gracefully.

"I want you." You murmured quietly, a little embarrassed of your own words, but they were the ultimate truth. You wanted Jason and anything he could offer to you at that moment.

His eyes followed your hands, and he placed one of his on top of yours, pressing your fingers against his skin. "I'm yours." He whispered, and you wondered if he meant right now or from now on.

You looked back up in his eyes, and you felt heat pooling at your lower belly when you noticed the look in them. Like he wanted to consume you, and you wanted him to. Right now.

His hands lifted your shirt, bunching it up past your chest as he leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth while his fingers softly grazed the other, caressing it. You slipped your fingers in his hair again, pushing his head against you, and you felt him move his hips against yours once more.

With that, you could feel how much he wanted you as well, as the bulge in his thick pants pressed against you even through the heavy layers. You wanted those heavy layers off.

"Jason," you mumbled his name, hands gently squeezing his shoulders. "Take your pants off."

You heard him let out an amused huff at your request, and he went back up to his previous position, looking down at you. He guided your hands to his belt, and you knew what to do.

Swiftly, your fingers unbuckled it, pulled it out of the loops, and tossed it to the floor of your living room, you both heard as it landed on the mat with a soft thud. You went for his button next, then for the zipper. You caught a glimpse of his black boxers, salivating at the mere view of them.

He helped you push his pants down and then tossed them to the floor as well. When he was free of his, he yanked yours away without warning, making you let out a surprised yelp, in which he delighted himself.

He laughed at the sound you made while he removed your green socks, and you glared up at him for surprising you. "Not funny." You muttered, but he shrugged playfully at you.

He leaned down to nuzzle your neck after he removed your shirt as well, the gesture reaking of the affection he felt for you. His hands splayed on your stomach as his lips and nose caressed your senstive skin, and you squeezed at his arms, your legs sneaking past his and wrapping around his hips.

His hands went for your ankles, caressing the back of them as he dived back into your chest and then down to the valley in between your breasts, then to your stomach, and then to the place where you wanted him the most.

His hands went back up to your sides now, but he brought one down to caress you through your panties, brushing a finger over the damp spot in them, and then one over your clit. He smiled at how your thighs pressed on his shoulders and then at you when his eyes found yours.

He kept rubbing that same spot through the thin fabric, stimulating your clit, but not too much. He knew you wanted more, both of you did, but he wanted to savor that moment, and you appreciated that, even if you were dying for him to just pull those panties off and have his way with you.

Jason hooked one of his fingers onto the waistband of your underwear and finally pulled them off. Unlike the rest of his clothes, he didn't toss those on the floor, placing them on the beside you instead so you wouldn't have trouble looking for them later.

He looked down at you, exposed to him for the first time, his mouth salivating at the sight of you wet, swollen, and flush all because of him. He didn't have the strength to tease you anymore in that moment. He just dove in.

His hand that was toying with you before went back to your empty side, pulling your body closer to him so he could properly burrow his face in your pussy while he ate it, and then it moved to press at your lower stomach, urging your orgasm on. His tongue lapped at you, into your soaked folds and at your swollen bud, which he sucked so carefully to make you feel pleasure and only that.

He kept a steady rhythm, using your moans and gasps as a guide for his pace. Your fingers played with his hair while you rolled your hips against his face, rubbing your cunt on him, using his mouth for your pleasure. He was so good at that, at making you feel good.

He slipped his tongue inside of you once or twice to test the waters, and you whimpered at that. He couldn't wait to bury himself in you. He pulled away from your weeping cunt, only to slip his boxers off, revealing his flushed length.

You pushed up to your elbows to have a better view of him, and he looked divine from head to toe. The messy hair that you had been toying with, his flushed face, neck, and chest looked so good under the warm lighting of the room, his hard and leaking girth that looked like it was made to fit you, the pathetic needy expression on his face, and yours probably looked the same too.

He let you take your time, let you stare at him. Your eyes were hungry, and so here his. You looked all perfect down there, looking at him, with your cheeks flushed, lips parted, messy hair spilling on the pillow, your beautiful body and legs spread for him. God, he wanted you more than he ever wanted anything.

Jason licked his lips, and once he'd had enough of your staring contest, he pulled you closer again by the legs. He leaned down to capture your lips in a heated, needy kiss, each one of his hands being placed beside your head to support his body while it covered yours.

Your hips were aligned, and he purposefully let his throbbing cock brush your soaked heat, giving you a little taste. It all felt so good, so right. Your arms went around his neck while they could, tugging him close, pressing your chests together, squeezing your breasts against him.

"Pull out, right?" He mumbled into your mouth, his eyes looking hazy. You nodded lazily. "M'kay."

He reached down in betwen you, not wanting to separate his body from yours, he wanted to feel the heat of your chests together. Carefully, he slid the head of his dick in between your folds, dipping it in your juices and rubbing it on your clit to make you even more needy for it, and then slowly, he slid the tip into you, a satisfied groan leaving his mouth. It was surreal, it already felt so good and he wasn't even all the way in.

You sighed in satisfaction, your eyes closing and your head tipping back against the pillow. You scratched his back gently, the slow scrape of your nails on his skin matching the languid rhythm he used to slide into you, stretching out your channel with ease. You were so fucking wet. He was met with no resistance, you wanted him there.

Despite being your first time together, it didn't feel awkward. It didn't feel confusing or complicated. It was him and you, just like always. Comfortable.

He let you adjust to his size, his lips peppering your jaw with tender kisses as you got used to the stretch and waited for the mild burning sensation to cease. Felt so easy with him.

Jason felt you move against him, trying to fuck yourself on his cock, and he smiled on your soft skin. He pushed up again to look down at you, his arms still on either side of your head. With your legs around his hips, he started moving, meticulously thrusting into you, searching for the most sensitive spots, feeling every inch of your gummy, warm walls hugging his length.

It felt like heaven, finally being inside you. Everything with you was so good.

He picked up the pace as you started breathing heavier, your eyes closing as you let yourself enjoy every single thing about this moment, about him in you. Pistoning in and out of you in a needy rhythm, he grunted and groaned so deliciously, blessing your ears with his sounds.

You felt yourself nearing the edge even more with each thrust. It all felt so intense. He mirrored your feelings, his eyes squeezing shut as he held back his own release, trying to hold up so you could come together.

Neither of you could speak at that moment, not even to mumble words of praise, the pleasure consuming your minds with equal intensity, taking up every space in your brains. You couldn't delay it anymore.

Your walls clenched around him, and you gasped, whimpered, and moaned at the sensation. You couldn't control the sounds coming out of you. Your eyes closed once again as your lips stayed parted, heavy breaths coming out of them.

As you squeezed his cock in pleasure, Jason had to muster all of his self-control to be able to pull out of you before he spilled all of his seed inside of you and fucked everything up. He couldn't break your trust like that. He pulled out, and in less than a second, his white, hot, and thick cum spilled all over your stomach and pelvis. He'd never cum like that before, so desperately. The sounds he made while he let his liquid pour over your skin without even having to milk it out with his hand were ungodly, so fucking lewd.

"Fuck," Jason gasped, his head slumping forward as he panted on top of you. "S'good." He mumbled.

You cracked a small smile at that, fingers going back to scratching his back when you could finally concentrate on something other than your orgasm taking over your body.

"So good." You echoed, eyes closing as he rested his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in the mixture of your scent with the smell of sex in the air.

"I'm not moving from here." He warned in another lazy mumble, his arms snaking around your waist. You chuckled at him.

"Okay." You muttered softly, one of your hands going to play with his hair. "We'll stay here."

"We'll stay here." He echoed your words as well, letting out a tired yet satisfied sigh.

Your eyes drifted up for the window for a second, and you noticed it was snowing again outside. It was all so magical, even if you were feeling sweaty and sticky.

You sighed, the sight of the snow falling relaxing you as well as Jason's body on top of yours, warming you up.

Wait, was the window open all this time?

☆

a.n: hello! I hope this is cohesive enough and not too too fast. it's my first time ever writing smut, so i really wanted to focus on that. thanks for reading!

#jason todd #dc comics #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood #smut #i want him #i want his dick so far down my throat it leaves bruises

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