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bettys-redwinesupernova · 6 months ago

Text

I THINK HE KNOWS

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict reader’s appearance!)

SUMMARY: daniel craig introduces his daughter to his co-star drew starkey at the after party for the ‘golden globes,’ and they do more than just hit it off.🫣

based on this ask !! i got a little carried away with this one and i could genuinely write a WHOLE fic with drew x daniel craig’s daughter😫 i have so many ideas for this pairing, so lmk if you wanna see more !! i hope you enjoy this @drewstarrrkey <3

WARNINGS: fluff & smut (18+, MDNI!), cursing, alcohol consumption, flirty!reader, cursing, p in v, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before ya tap it😣), switch!drew (mostly dom), like one (?) use of ‘good girl,’ body worship, LOTS of foreplay😝. (lmk if i missed anything!!)

WORD COUNT: 5.2k (i got REALLY carried away😭)

THIRD PERSON +

The energy of the Golden Globes after-party was electric. The clinking of glasses, low hum of laughter, and faint music filled the space. Celebrities mingled under the soft glow of chandeliers, conversations buzzing with excitement about the evening's wins.

Drew Starkey sat at the bar nursing a glass of champagne, still slightly stunned from his earlier win. He'd barely had time to process the moment—his first major nomination and now his first big award.

The crowd was overwhelming, but his co-star, Daniel Craig, had insisted he celebrate properly. Drew watched as Daniel cut through the party with his unmistakable presence, shaking hands, embracing friends, and flashing that rare smile that could light up a room. Behind him, someone followed, and Drew's attention lingered just a little too long.

"Starkey!" Daniel's voice carried above the noise. Drew straightened instinctively, placing his glass back down as Daniel approached.

"Hey!" Drew smiled. "Congrats again. Well deserved, man."

"Thank you. Same to you." Daniel clapped him on the shoulder before stepping to the side. "I want you to meet someone."

Stepping forward with a confident stride was a young woman, poised but relaxed in a way that suggested she belonged in a room like this. Daniel turned to her with an almost affectionate roll of his eyes.

"This is my daughter, Y/N."

Y/N smiled and offered her hand to Drew. "Hi. I've heard so much about you."

Drew shook her hand, his mind scrambling for composure. "You too. I mean—I haven't heard about you in that sense, but your dad's mentioned you. Not in a bad way—uh, I mean—" He stopped, exhaling with a self-deprecating laugh. "Sorry, I'm a bit flustered. It's nice to meet you."

Y/N grinned. "Quite the introduction, Drew."

Daniel raised a brow at them both, clearly amused. "Well, I'll leave you two to it. I see a few friends I need to go bother." He glanced at Drew. "Behave yourself."

Drew let out an awkward laugh. "Of course. Always."

Daniel walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Y/N turned back to Drew, tilting her head slightly as she observed him. "He's very fond of you, you know."

"Is he?" Drew replied, trying to play it cool. "He's great. Working with him was... surreal, honestly."

"I'd imagine. I've seen the movie, of course. You were phenomenal." Her tone was warm, genuine, and Drew found himself smiling at her praise.

"Thank you. That means a lot."

She leaned against the bar, signaling to the bartender for a drink. "You look surprised."

"I guess I just... still don't know how to take compliments," Drew admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's all been a bit overwhelming."

"You shouldn't be so modest. Your performance was stunning. And you've got the trophy to prove it." She shot him a teasing smile. "Don't let it go to your head, though."

Drew laughed, finally feeling himself relax. "I'll try my best. And you—your dad said you're an actress as well? And a model?"

"Here and there. I've done some niche indie films—ones that play in small theatres no one ever goes to." Her voice was light, self-deprecating but playful.

"Niche or not, that's impressive." Drew met her gaze. "What kind of roles?"

Y/N paused as the bartender slid a glass of wine her way. "I guess you could say I play a lot of brooding, lost souls. The ones who always seem to sit by windows and stare out dramatically."

"Ah, very serious. Lots of silent contemplation?"

"Exactly." Y/N laughed softly. "But enough about me. Tell me about Queer. It must've been... intense to film."

"It was." Drew nodded, leaning his elbow on the bar as he turned toward her. "Luca Gaudagnino has this way of making you feel completely vulnerable. It was a challenge, but I trusted him. There's this scene—I'm sure you remember it—where my character completely unravels."

"How could I forget?" Y/N said softly, her eyes locked on his. "You were so raw in that moment. It was almost uncomfortable to watch because it felt so real."

Drew blinked, feeling his ears heat. "That's what Luca wanted. He kept pushing me to 'stop acting,' as he put it. He'd say, 'Feel it. Don't pretend to feel it.' I'd never worked like that before."

"Well, it paid off. Watching you was like watching someone break open right in front of me. Vulnerable, stripped back..." She paused, taking a sip of her wine. "And now here you are, Golden Globe in hand."

Drew looked away, smiling sheepishly. "I'm still processing it."

"You deserve it," Y/N replied firmly. "And no one here is going to let you forget it."

Drew looked at her again, unable to ignore the spark in her gaze. She was bold—not just in what she said, but how she carried herself. It was disarming. "You've got a way with words."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Y/N smiled mischievously. "So tell me, Drew Starkey... how's the fame treating you?"

He groaned playfully, shaking his head. "You're going to make me sound insufferable."

"On the contrary, I think you're handling yourself rather well."

"You say that now," Drew teased. "Talk to me in six months when I've gone completely Hollywood."

"Mm, I don't think that's in your nature." Y/N tilted her head thoughtfully. "You seem far too grounded for that."

"You don't know me yet," Drew countered.

"Well, I'm a very good judge of character. Comes with the territory of being Daniel Craig's daughter—lots of egos to sift through."

Drew raised his brows, amused. "Is that right?"

"Absolutely. I'm rarely wrong." She gave him a sly look. "And my read on you so far is: humble, charming, and maybe a little too hard on yourself."

Drew chuckled, caught off guard. "You're bold."

"Life's too short not to be."

Drew shook his head with a small smile. "And what's your read on yourself?"

Y/N leaned in slightly, her voice dropping just enough to feel conspiratorial. "That would spoil the fun, wouldn't it?"

Drew swallowed, the teasing lilt in her voice setting him slightly off balance. There was a beat of silence between them, the kind that crackled with unspoken tension. He cleared his throat, reaching for his champagne. "You're a mystery, Y/N."

"And you're still a little flustered," she teased, her grin widening. "Do I make you nervous, Drew?"

"Maybe." Drew gave her a crooked smile, holding her gaze. "But I think you like that."

Y/N laughed, the sound light and rich. "I do. I'm not afraid to admit it."

Drew shook his head in disbelief. "You're something else."

"So I've been told." She took another sip of wine, her expression softening just a touch. "But really—what's next for you? After all this?"

Drew shrugged, glancing around the room as if the answer might be hidden somewhere among the guests. "I don't know. This feels like such a huge moment, you know? I almost don't want to think about what's next. I just want to enjoy this."

"As you should." Y/N nodded approvingly. "Don't let anyone rush you."

"I won't." Drew paused, meeting her eyes again. "But... I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little scared of what comes after. What if I can't live up to it?"

"You will," Y/N said softly, her tone sincere. "You've got the talent, Drew. The rest will follow."

Drew studied her for a moment, his chest feeling strangely warm. "You're very good at this."

"At what?"

"Making people feel seen."

Y/N smiled, her expression unreadable. "Maybe you just needed someone to see you tonight."

Drew felt his heart skip, the weight of her words settling between them. Before he could respond, Y/N placed her empty glass on the bar.

"Come on," she said, standing. "You're far too interesting to spend the whole night glued to this bar stool."

"Where are we going?" Drew asked, standing to follow her.

Y/N looked over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. "You'll just have to follow me."

And he did. Without hesitation. A “Yes, ma’am,” slipping from his lips.

Drew followed Y/N as she led him away from the bar, weaving effortlessly through the crowd. She moved with a sort of practiced ease, as if she'd spent her whole life in rooms like this—grand, glittering, and full of famous faces. Drew, still buzzing from the champagne and the residual adrenaline of the evening, was mesmerized.

"I'm dying of curiosity here, where exactly are we going?" Drew asked, his voice tinged with amusement as they turned down a quieter hallway leading away from the main party.

"Somewhere a little less chaotic," Y/N replied, glancing back at him. "Unless you'd rather keep bumping elbows with half of Hollywood."

"No complaints here," Drew said, matching her steps. "I think I've shaken enough hands tonight to last me the rest of the year."

Y/N pushed open a door at the end of the hall, revealing a small terrace overlooking the city. The night air was cool, crisp against their skin as they stepped outside. The noise of the party dulled behind them, replaced by the distant hum of Los Angeles and the quiet rustling of trees in the breeze.

"Better?" Y/N asked, turning to face him.

Drew exhaled, his shoulders relaxing as he looked out over the skyline. "Much better. Thanks."

Y/N leaned against the railing, watching him with an unreadable expression. "You looked like you needed an escape."

"I guess I did." Drew joined her, leaning beside her, their arms nearly brushing. "It's a lot, you know? I'm grateful—don't get me wrong—but... I don't think I'm cut out for the whole schmoozing thing."

"Most people aren't. They just pretend they are." Y/N's lips curled into a small smile. "Besides, you've already done the hard part tonight. The rest is noise."

Drew glanced at her, the city lights reflecting in her eyes. "You're good at this—reading people."

She shrugged lightly, her tone playful but laced with truth. "It's my party trick."

"Anything else I should know about you?" Drew teased. "Other hidden talents?"

"Plenty," she replied with a grin and a cheeky wink. "But I'm not about to give them all away at once. That would ruin the mystery."

Drew shook his head with a laugh, tucking his hands into his pockets. "You're impossible."

"I get that a lot," she said, unfazed. "But you haven't run off yet, have you?"

"No," Drew admitted, his smile softening. "I haven't."

Y/N's gaze lingered on him for a moment before she looked back out at the city. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Did you ever think you'd end up here?" She gestured vaguely to the world around them. "Holding a Golden Globe, being the name on everyone's lips?"

Drew was quiet for a beat, choosing his words carefully. "I don't think it ever felt real enough to imagine. I wanted it, of course—I worked for it—but this? This feels like someone else's life."

"And yet, here you are."

"Here I am," he echoed, looking at her. "What about you? You've grown up in all of this. Does it ever lose its shine?"

Y/N's expression faltered, just for a moment, as if the question touched on something deeper. "Sometimes," she admitted. "It's easy to feel like you're just a part of the machinery—another face in a sea of them. But then you meet someone who reminds you why you love it, why it's worth it."

Drew tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Is that why you act? Because you love it?"

"Because I can't not do it," Y/N said simply. "Even when it's thankless, even when no one's watching... I need it."

Drew understood that. It resonated deep within him—the need to create, to express, to push boundaries for reasons that weren't always tangible.

"I get that," he murmured. "The best moments are the ones no one else sees. The ones you do for yourself."

Y/N turned to face him fully, her eyes sharp and intent. "Exactly. And that's what makes what you did in Queer so powerful. It didn't feel performative. It felt real, like you gave a part of yourself away for it."

Drew swallowed, her words hitting him harder than he expected. "I'm honoured. That's... the best compliment I've ever gotten."

"It's true," she said softly. "And for what it's worth, I think you're just getting started."

Drew looked at her, something shifting between them in the quiet. He felt seen—more than that, he felt understood. Y/N Craig, with her razor-sharp wit and unwavering confidence, had peeled back his layers in a way no one else had managed all night.

"You really don't hold back, do you?" Drew said, his voice low.

Y/N smirked, stepping closer. "Why should I? Life's too short for subtlety."

Drew's breath hitched as the space between them narrowed. She was close enough now that he could catch the faintest trace of her perfume—something heady and elegant that suited her perfectly.

"You're dangerous," Drew said, his voice a little unsteady.

Y/N arched a brow, clearly amused. "Am I?"

"Yeah." Drew's lips curved into a small smile. "The kind of person who makes you forget to play it safe."

Y/N tilted her head, her eyes locking with his. "And do you always play it safe, Drew Starkey?"

Drew hesitated for just a second before answering. "Not tonight."

Y/N's smile widened, a knowing glint in her eyes. She reached up, her fingers brushing the lapel of his suit jacket. "Good."

The air crackled between them, thick with unspoken possibilities. Drew could feel his pulse quicken, every sense heightened as Y/N held his gaze. She was testing him, waiting to see what he'd do.

And for once, Drew didn't think—he just acted.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

Y/N's smile was slow and deliberate. "I thought you'd never ask."

Drew grinned, a mix of nerves and excitement flickering across his face as Y/N tugged him by the hand, leading him back through the terrace door. The pair slipped back into the hallway unnoticed, the music and chatter of the afterparty drowning out their hasty footsteps.

"Are we seriously sneaking our way out right now?" Drew whispered, though the grin he wore betrayed any hesitation.

"Unless you'd rather stay and talk to George Clooney about his favorite vineyards," Y/N teased, looking back at him with a mischievous smile. "Then we need to make haste!"

Drew huffed a quiet laugh. "Okay, fair point. Let's go."

They moved quickly, dodging small clusters of guests and waitstaff like a pair of teenagers sneaking out of school. Every time their eyes met, a fit of laughter threatened to spill out of them.

"Act natural," Y/N mock-coached as they passed one of the party coordinators.

"Yeah, because that's going well," Drew shot back, trying to suppress his smirk.

Finally, they pushed through a side exit and found themselves in the cool night air, away from the golden haze of the afterparty. The parking area was quiet, save for a valet who barely looked up as Y/N called for a car.

"God, I feel like we just got away with murder," Drew muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stood beside her.

Y/N grinned up at him, her cheeks flushed. "Feels kind of good, doesn't it?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah... yeah, it really does."

The car pulled up, and Y/N wasted no time climbing into the backseat. Drew followed, sliding in beside her and shutting the door. The silence in the car was loaded, broken only by the faint hum of the radio and the distant sounds of the city.

"Your hotel, I assume?" Y/N asked, glancing at him.

"Yeah." Drew cleared his throat, suddenly feeling the weight of what they were doing hit him. He glanced at her and added softly, "If that's okay."

Y/N gave him a teasing look. "Wouldn't be here if it wasn't, would I?"

Drew felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and he covered it with a laugh. "Right. Fair point."

The ride to the hotel felt like a blur, the two of them making light conversation as they both tried to ignore the electric undercurrent running between them. When the car finally pulled up to Drew's hotel, he shot Y/N a nervous glance.

"You sure about this?" he asked quietly.

Y/N's lips twitched into a smirk as she leaned closer, her voice low and teasing. "You're not getting cold feet, are you?"

"Definitely not," Drew said quickly, earning another quiet laugh from her.

They hurried through the lobby—heads down, hands brushing but never fully touching. Drew felt like his heart was pounding in his ears as they reached the elevator. The moment the doors slid shut, Y/N let out a giggle, biting her lower lip.

"We look so suspicious right now," she whispered.

"You look suspicious," Drew shot back with a grin. "I look like someone trying not to have a heart attack."

She rolled her eyes playfully, stepping closer to him. "Relax, Golden Globe winner. No one's paying attention to us."

"That's the problem," Drew muttered under his breath, earning another soft laugh from her.

The elevator dinged, and they stepped onto Drew's floor. He fumbled briefly with the keycard as Y/N watched, clearly entertained by how flustered he'd become.

"Need help?" she teased.

"I've got it," Drew replied quickly, finally getting the door open. He held it for her as she stepped inside, and he followed, shutting it behind them.

The hotel room was simple and sleek, the lights dim as Drew tossed his keycard onto the desk. He turned to find Y/N standing near the window, looking out at the glittering cityscape. She turned to face him, her expression softer now, though still full of that familiar mischief.

But it was like something had switched in the air. Drew leaning back against the door as he studied her.

"So," he began, his voice quiet but laced with an edge that made her stomach twist, "I bet you think you're calling the shots tonight?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "I mean, I guess we'll see who's running this show, won't we?"

Drew pushed off the door, taking a slow step toward her. His movements were deliberate, almost predatory, and Y/N found herself instinctively taking a small step back. But she wasn't about to let him see her falter. She leaned forward slightly, her lips quirking into a smirk.

"You walk like you own the place," she said, her tone teasing. "But I bet you're all talk."

Drew stopped just inches away from her, his breath warm against her skin. He lifted a hand, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone who seemed so intent on dominating the situation.

"Careful, Y/N," he warned softly, his voice almost a whisper. "You might be surprised at what I'm capable of."

His fingers trailed down her neck, and she shivered despite herself. What is this? she wondered, her earlier confidence beginning to waver. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled her in despite her best efforts to maintain control.

"Or maybe," she countered, tilting her chin up defiantly, "you're just trying to scare me."

Drew's lips twitched into a smile, but there was no warmth in it. "Maybe I am," he admitted, his voice dropping lower. "But why don't we find out?"

Before she could respond, his hands were on her hips, pulling her closer until their bodies pressed together. Y/N gasped softly, her pulse quickening as his proximity overwhelmed her senses. His lips were so close to hers, his breath mingling with hers, and she couldn't help but tilt her face upward, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he murmured, his voice rough and intimate. "And I'm not one for playing games."

Y/N swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how much taller and stronger he was than her. But she wasn't about to back down. "Good," she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Because I like a challenge."

Drew's eyes darkened, and without warning, he dipped his head, capturing her lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was commanding, urgent, and left no room for doubt about who was in charge. Y/N's hands flew to his shoulders, gripping tightly as she tried to steady herself against the wave of desire that washed over her.

His tongue traced the seam of her lips, demanding entry, and she parted them instinctively, allowing him access. The kiss deepened, grew more intense, and Y/N felt her knees weaken. Drew held her firmly, his hands sliding up her sides to cup her face, angling her head to deepen the connection.

When he finally pulled away, Y/N was breathless, her cheeks flushed and her chest rising and falling rapidly. She blinked up at him, dazed and disoriented, and realized with a jolt that she'd completely underestimated him.

"As wonderful as that was," Drew said, his voice husky and raw. "I think I need to go slower. Test your limits."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she stared up at him, realisation dawning. He's not bluffing, she thought, her earlier confidence faltering. Drew was lethal, charming, and utterly in control, and she had walked right into his trap.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Drew's lips curved into a wicked smile as he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Everything."

His hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, pressing her closer against him. The heat between them was electric, a palpable tension that threatened to ignite at any moment.

Y/N's breath came in short bursts as she tilted her head up, her lips parted in anticipation. He's not going to kiss me, she thought, not yet. But the way his eyes darkened, the way his fingers flexed against her skin, told her she was wrong. He was going to do exactly what he wanted, and she was going to let him.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Tell me how much you like this."

She hesitated for a split second, but only a split second. Her boldness was ingrained, a survival mechanism honed by years of attention and expectation. "I like it," she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "I like that you're taking control."

Drew's smile was slow, predatory. "Good girl," he said, the words soft but laced with authority. He kissed her then, a deep, bruising kiss that left no room for doubt. His tongue swept into her mouth, demanding, exploring, claiming. Y/N melted into him, her hands gripping his shoulders for balance as the world around her dissolved into sensation.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless. Drew stared down at her, his blue eyes gleaming with something that made her stomach twist. "You're not in control here, sweetheart," he said, his tone conversational but firm. "Not anymore."

Y/N swallowed hard, her earlier confidence faltering. He's right, she realised. I walked into this thinking I could handle him, but he's handling me. And God, it was intoxicating.

Drew didn't wait for her response. Instead, he turned her gently, positioning her with her back to him. Her heart raced as she felt his body press against hers, his chest warm and solid against her spine. His hand cupped her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple through the fabric of her dress. She gasped, arching into his touch.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice rumbling against her ear.

She nodded quickly, too caught up in the sensations to form words.

"Good," he said, his grip tightening momentarily before he released her. Y/N blinked, confused, as Drew stepped back. He moved to the bed, sitting down and leaning back on his elbows, his legs stretched out in front of him. His gaze was intense, predatory, as he watched her.

"Take off your dress," he said simply.

The command hit her like a bolt of lightning. Y/N hesitated, her hands moving instinctively to the zipper at the back of her gown. She glanced at Drew, expecting... something. A smile, maybe, or a reassuring word. But his expression remained unchanged, a mask of calm dominance.

He's serious, she thought, her pulse quickening. He wants me to do this for him.

Slowly, deliberately, she began to unzip her dress. The fabric slid down her shoulders, pooling at her hips. She shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. Beneath it, she wore only a lace bra and matching panties, the delicate garments doing little to conceal her arousal.

Drew's eyes roamed over her body, lingering on the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, the slight tremble in her thighs. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with approval. "But not enough."

Y/N's brow furrowed. "What—"

"Shh," he interrupted, raising a hand to silence her. "Don't talk. Just listen."

Her breath caught in her throat as Drew leaned forward, his movements fluid and precise. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the strap of her bra. With a flick of his wrist, he sent it sliding down her arm. Her nipples tightened immediately, peaking under his scrutiny.

"Perfect," he said, his voice a low purr. He cupped her breast in his hand, squeezing gently. Y/N bit her lip to stifle a moan, her legs trembling beneath her.

Drew's free hand reached for the waistband of her panties, tugging them downward until they clung to her hips. He paused there, his fingers tracing the edge of the fabric before hooking his thumbs into the sides and pulling them down her legs.

Y/N stood before him completely exposed, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and arousal. Drew's gaze was relentless, unapologetic, as he took in every inch of her.

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

She obeyed, her movements stiff with nervousness. When she faced away from him, Drew's hands returned to her body, one stroking down her spine while the other traced the curve of her ass.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, his lips lingering as his hands explored her body with increasing boldness.

Y/N's knees nearly buckled beneath her. This is happening, she thought, her brain struggling to keep up with the intensity of the moment. He's really doing this.

Without warning, Drew spun her around and pushed her backward onto the bed. Y/N landed with a soft thud, her heart pounding as she looked up at him. Drew loomed over her, his expression dark and commanding.

"Spread your legs," he ordered, his voice sharp and clipped.

Y/N hesitated, her mind racing. Is this what I want? The question flashed through her mind, but the answer was already there, buried beneath the haze of desire clouding her judgment.

She spread her legs, her breathing shallow and uneven. Drew's eyes flicked down, noting her readiness with a smirk.

"Good girl," he said, the words dripping with approval. He knelt between her thighs, his fingers skimming the inside of her knee before moving upward. Y/N's breath hitched as his touch neared her core, her body tensing in anticipation.

And then, quite suddenly, he stopped.

"Wait," he said, his voice firm.

Y/N blinked up at him, confusion and frustration warring within her. "What?" she managed to whisper.

Drew's smile was wicked, almost cruel. "I need to hear you say it."

"Say what?"

His fingers pressed against her inner thigh, applying just enough pressure to make her squirm. "Tell me what you want," he demanded. "Tell me how much you need this."

Y/N's cheeks flushed crimson, her confidence faltering under his unrelenting gaze. "I... I don't know," she stammered, her voice barely audible.

Drew's expression hardened, his hand withdrawing from her thigh. "Then we're done here."

"No!" she cried, desperation clawing at her throat. "Please, Drew, I—"

"Say it," he interrupted, his voice a low growl.

She hesitated, her pride warring with her need. But she needed this, more than she cared to admit. "Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I... I need you to fuck me."

At her admission, Drew's control snapped. His hands and lips were everywhere, leaving no part of her untouched, no moment unexplored.

And within a split-second, he pushed into her, filling her completely. She gasped, her body adjusting to his size, her muscles tightening around him. Drew began to move, his rhythm slow and steady, building the tension once more. He watched her face intently, reading every twitch and moan, adjusting his movements to maximise her pleasure. It was as if he could feel every sensation she was experiencing, as if they were connected in a way that went beyond the physical.

He leaned down, capturing her mouth in another bruising kiss. His hand found her clit, his thumb circling it in time with his thrusts.

The cacophony of sounds filled the room: slick skin connecting, Y/N's breathless whimpers and cries of pure pleasure, Drew's soft moans. But to them it sounded like a symphony; a truly bewitching one.

"Y/N," Drew said her name like a prayer, his voice ragged with volatile emotions. "Look at me."

She obeyed, meeting his gaze as tears of ecstasy blurred her vision. This was it, she realised. This was what she'd been missing. The raw, unfiltered connection, the trust, the surrender.

"Don't look away," he commanded, his voice fierce but tender. "Stay with me."

She nodded, her breathing shallow as she clung to him, her body tense with anticipation. And then, as if on cue, her climax hit her like a tidal wave, her entire body convulsing with pleasure as she screamed his name.

Drew followed soon after, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he poured himself into her, his body shuddering with release. For a moment, they lay there in silence, their hearts pounding in sync.

"So," she said quietly, breaking the silence. "Not a bad way to celebrate your first Golden Globe win, is it?"

Drew let out a soft laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Not bad at all."

Y/N grinned, lifting her head to look at him. "Good. Because I plan on reminding you about this night for years."

Drew rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. "You're never going to let me live this down, are you?"

"Not a chance."

Drew shook his head, pulling her closer. "You're the worst."

"And yet, here we are," Y/N teased, settling back against him.

Drew couldn't argue with that. As he lay there, listening to her quiet breathing and staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't help but think that this was, without a doubt, the best night of his life.

(dividers by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i had SO much fun writing this request and i REALLY got carried away XD i hope this wasn’t too long, and was exactly what you wanted my lovely :) request are going to be open for the next 24 hours so get some in if you have anymore everyone !! <3

thinking of starting a tag list if anybody’s interested? as always, hearts and reblogs are always appreciated <3

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #fluff #outer banks #bettys asks !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey outer banks #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey smut #smut #bettys work !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

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missarchive · 5 months ago

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PORNSTAR ★

spencer reid

summary; struggling under the weight of student debt and barely scraping by on a minimum-wage job, Y/N is desperate for a way out. When an old college friend sends her a link to an unusual job posting—camera operator for a top-tier adult entertainment studio—she hesitates but ultimately applies. The promise of competitive pay and discretion is too good to ignore.

She’s even more surprised to meet Spencer Reid, a nervous and awkward man who she initially assumes is part of the camera crew. Spencer’s stammering and shy demeanour put her at ease, but when she learns he’s not behind the camera but the star in front of it, her world is turned upside down.

cw; 18+ mdni, pornstar!spencer, camera crew!reader, spencer is not straight (neither is the reader), face-fucking, doggy, unprotected p in v, masturbation (f), spencer is still a sweetheart, bodily fluids, cum swallowing, dom!spencer but also dom!reader, reader is not very good at her job to be honest, "good boy", unprofessional relationships, FILTHY NASTY, praise, finger sucking, sub!spencer 🤭, handjobs, "slut", overstimulation, oral (f. receiving), threesome (mmf), filming for porn, whiny spencer, oral (m. receiving), pure filth, cowgirl, cumming inside, slight aftercare, pretty much fade to black

an; lots of love from beyond the grave, im still very ill. i hope you all enjoy this, please do not mind the spelling mistakes! i tried my best to proofread in my current state 😭

wc; 8k

The sharp, acrid smell of burnt coffee weaves through your tiny apartment, clinging to the fabric of your couch and the cluttered corners of the room. It lingers in the air, an unshakable reminder of your life’s current state: stagnant, suffocating, and just a little bitter.

You sit at the wobbly kitchen table, staring at your laptop screen like it holds the secrets to the universe. Instead, it shows a spreadsheet that hasn’t changed in weeks, no matter how many times you open it, no matter how hard you will the numbers at the bottom to magically disappear. $89,563.47.

That figure is more than a debt. It’s an anvil crushing your chest, a constant shadow in the corners of your mind. It’s the dream-crusher, the thing that keeps you up at night, whispering that you’ll never escape. With your minimum-wage job barely covering rent and bills stacking higher every day, every road out seems endless and uphill.

You exhale shakily, pushing your chipped coffee mug to the side as frustration wells up in your chest. The universe, it seems, has no plans to cut you a break. You let your head fall into your hands, fingers pressing against your temples.

And then, out of nowhere, a soft ding pulls you from your spiral.

Your phone lights up on the table, screen glowing with a notification. It’s from an old college friend—a name you haven’t thought about in over a year, someone who faded from your life the moment you both graduated.

“If you’re desperate enough… this is worth a shot.”

The message is short, cryptic, and followed by a link.

You hesitate, thumb hovering above the screen as your mind races. It could be a joke. Or a scam. But the weight of your desperation gnaws at your common sense. Against better judgment, curiosity wins out.

The link opens to a job posting.

“Camera Operator Needed for Top-Tier Adult Entertainment Studio. Competitive Pay. No Experience Necessary.”

You blink at the words, half expecting the screen to vanish in a puff of smoke. It doesn’t. Your first instinct is to laugh, a sharp, incredulous sound bubbling in your throat. But then, you see the salary.

Your breath catches in your chest. The number is real. The kind of real that could actually change things. A few months, maybe a year, and you could obliterate a chunk of that debt.

You sit back in your chair, the idea burrowing into your mind like a persistent whisper. It’s insane. Ridiculous. But it’s also tempting. One word, bold and unyielding, flashes on the screen: Discreetly.

You read it again and again, the weight of it heavy in your chest. That’s the catch, isn’t it? The only thing holding you back.

By the time dawn filters through your dingy curtains, your application is sent.

The sleek office building feels completely at odds with what you imagined. Its polished floors and glass panels scream corporate professionalism, not… this. Even the receptionist greeted you like you were interviewing for a finance job, her tone cool and efficient.

Now, you sit in the waiting area, hands folded tightly in your lap. The quiet hum of productivity around you is unnerving, and your pulse drums in your ears.

When the door finally opens, you glance up.

A man approaches you, clutching a clipboard. He’s taller than you expected, with a mop of brown hair that looks like it has a mind of its own. His glasses sit slightly askew on his nose, and he exudes an awkward kind of energy—nervous but strangely endearing.

“Y/N?” he asks, voice soft and hesitant, with just the slightest upward lilt.

“That’s me,” you reply, standing and smoothing the wrinkles from your shirt.

“Great! Um, I’m Spencer Reid. I’ll be showing you around today.”

You blink at him, caught slightly off guard. This is Spencer Reid? His name had been listed in the email, but somehow, you’d pictured someone… different. More polished, more self-assured. Less professor who forgot his lecture notes.

“Nice to meet you,” you say, smiling politely.

He nods quickly, adjusting the clipboard in his hands. “Yeah, uh, you too. So, um, if you’ll just follow me, I’ll… show you around.”

Spencer leads you through the maze-like studio, his steps hurried yet deliberate. The place is a whirlwind of activity—bright lights overhead, cameras perched on sturdy tripods, people buzzing with purpose.

As you follow him, he rattles off bits of information about the space, gesturing to equipment and rattling through explanations. His sentences stumble over themselves, his words tumbling out in fits and starts like he’s rushing to get them all out before they escape him.

“So, what do you do here?” you ask, trying to break the tension.

Spencer hesitates, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Oh, um, I work… mostly in front of the camera. But I, uh, know how the equipment works too, so I can help. If you have questions. About cameras. Or lights. Or… yeah.”

You suppress a grin at his stammering, chalking it up to an attempt to make you feel at ease. He must work behind the scenes, you think.

Maybe he interviews the actors or films promotional material. He doesn’t strike you as someone who could handle the spotlight. The thought settles you. At least he’s not intimidating.

The director greets you with a curt nod as Spencer leads you to the main set. Before you can take in your surroundings, Spencer slips away for a moment, leaving you to absorb the controlled chaos around you.

When he reappears, your jaw nearly drops.

Gone are the glasses and sweater vest. Instead, he’s wearing a tailored button-up shirt, the sleeves rolled just enough to reveal toned forearms. His hair is neatly tousled, his posture more confident, though there’s still a faint awkwardness clinging to him.

You blink, struggling to reconcile this Spencer with the nervous man who had stumbled over his words minutes ago. And then it hits you like a freight train. He’s not part of the crew. He’s not here to run the cameras or adjust the lights.

He’s the talent.

Your mind scrambles to process the revelation as you watch him step onto the set, chatting easily with the director. Someone hands him a script, and he scans it with an easy familiarity before nodding in agreement.

Meanwhile, you’re standing frozen, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing.

“Y/N, you ready?”

The director’s voice snaps you back to reality. You nod stiffly, moving into position by the camera, but your gaze keeps flicking to Spencer. He glances at you once, his lips twitching into a nervous half-smile like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind. It doesn’t help. If anything, it makes everything stranger.

You grip the camera tightly, your heart pounding in your chest. You thought you were prepared for this job, but nothing could have prepared you for Spencer Reid.

You can’t believe you’re actually doing this. The scene in front of you is far more intense than you had imagined. It’s your first real day on set, and Spencer is working with one of the female talents. From this distance, all you can focus on is the way he moves—sure and confident, his hips snapping rhythmically against his co-star’s body.

You fumble with the camera settings, trying to ignore the wet, sloppy sounds of sex that fill the room. You can’t tear your gaze away from Spencer’s cock, slipping in and out of her pussy like a well-oiled machine. Her hands clawing at his back as she gasps around his cock when he pulls out to force it in her mouth.

He threads a hand through her hair, the movement almost… tender. As tender as you can be for bruising the back of someone’s throat, anyway. She looks up at him, a smile on her lips, before he presses his cock to the back of her throat and lets her work him over. His face tightening, lips curling up into a smirk as she brings a hand up to hold what she can’t fit in her mouth.

Your stomach tightens at the sight of them together. You’re not sure if you should be so… invested in this. But it’s hard to tear your eyes away when he moves like that. You can’t stop watching.

“Focus on the face,” the director’s voice rings out. “We need her face. We need reactions.”

Your head jerks up, camera lens refocusing on the woman’s expression. It takes every ounce of your control to keep it steady and ignore the fact that Spencer is still balls-deep down her throat. It’s surprisingly easy to tune out, at least, until he flips her over, pinning her face-down to the bed. His cock pummeling into the woman from behind, her head turned to the side with glossy lips and tear-stricken eyes.

Spencer leans down, then, and you watch as he murmurs something in the woman’s ear, something you can’t quite hear. Her response is immediate—she gasps, her eyes going wide before her lips stretch into a perfect O. Her fingers dig into Spencer’s back as his thrusts become more frantic, and then he’s groaning, hips slamming against hers as he fills her with his cum.

The moment he finishes, the spell is broken. The camera drops to your side, and you breathe for what feels like the first time since the scene began. The director calls cut, and Spencer pulls out slowly, being careful of the woman underneath him, a small smile on his face as he reaches down to help her stand on shaky legs. He glances over, and for just a moment, his eyes lock on yours before he turns away to clean up. It’s stupid. It shouldn’t mean anything.

But… you can’t help the fluttering in your chest at the realisation that he was looking at you, even if only for a second. You try not to think about it too much as the day goes on, focusing instead on your job and taking in the sights and sounds around you.

It’s far more fascinating than you anticipated—watching the director’s decisions play out, watching the actors navigate their roles with ease.

But then, as the afternoon wears on, Spencer appears by your side again. He’s back in the clothes from this morning, and the awkward, shy energy has returned in full force.

“So, uh, you get a lunch break. And um, I was wondering… if maybe you wanted to grab something together. If you’re not busy. I mean, it’s okay if you are. I just…” His gaze darts to the side, voice trailing off. “I figured maybe we could talk more about your job, make sure you know everything you need.”

You blink at him. “You don’t have to do that,” you tell him. “I’ll be fine.”

Spencer shifts on his feet, looking slightly disappointed. But he nods anyway, turning to leave.

“Wait.”

The word slips out of you before you can catch it. Spencer looks over, eyes brightening ever so slightly. “Yeah?”

“Lunch sounds… nice.” Your voice is soft, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him as you say it.

When you finally meet his gaze, it’s the most natural thing in the world to see his lips curve into a small, shy smile.

Spencer Reid is a walking contradiction.

On camera, he’s a vision of dominance and raw confidence—a sex god, to put it bluntly. Every movement he makes is purposeful, controlled, and exudes a confidence that seems almost unnatural. But off-screen? He’s a different person entirely. Awkward, shy, and endearing in ways you hadn’t expected. He stammers, blushes, and struggles to find the right words in nearly every conversation. But every time he does, it only makes you smile. It’s impossible not to be drawn to him.

You sit across from him in a small café just a few blocks from the studio, the warmth of your coffee mug grounding you. The café is quiet, a peaceful haven far from the chaos of the city, where the sounds of honking horns and chatter fade into the background, leaving only the soft hum of conversation and clinking cups.

“So,” Spencer begins, his voice still soft and a little unsure, “how do you like the job so far?”

“It’s… interesting,” you reply, a laugh bubbling up.

“Good interesting or bad interesting?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “It’s just… not at all what I expected. The studio, I mean. It’s so professional. Like any other office.”

Spencer nods, the nervous tension in his posture easing slightly. “Yeah, it really is. Most people think it’s all…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “They think it’s just… sex all the time, you know?”

You snort at the absurdity of it. “Definitely not.”

The thought of Spencer—the shy, uncertain man in front of you—being the confident, sexual force he is on camera is hard to reconcile. You can’t imagine him ever making the first move with anyone. It seems almost… impossible.

“We have contracts with each other,” Spencer continues. “And there are all kinds of protocols to follow for the scenes. It’s actually pretty strict.”

“That makes sense,” you reply. “I guess I never really thought about it like that.”

Spencer shrugs, a flicker of unease crossing his face. “A lot of people don’t. It’s weird, I know, but… it’s still work. And if anything goes wrong…” He trails off, his expression growing darker.

A sudden curiosity prickles in you, but you don’t push for answers. Instead, you ask, “How did you end up doing this?”

He scrunches up his nose, looking almost embarrassed. “It’s a long story, but… my friend convinced me to try out once. And then I just… liked it.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. The image of someone convincing Spencer to do something so bold is almost too perfect. It’s exactly the kind of thing you could picture him doing—reluctantly agreeing, then discovering something unexpected about himself.

“I can’t really imagine that,” you say, your laugh light and teasing. Spencer blushes, his cheeks tinting pink as he shifts uncomfortably.

“What, you think I’m too shy for something like this?”

You nod, not hesitating for a moment. “Maybe just a little bit.”

“Yeah,” he admits softly, “I guess I am. I’ve gotten pretty good at switching it off when I’m being filmed. But in my day-to-day life… it’s like I can’t move past it.”

The words linger in the air between you, a strange kind of tension rising. You can’t help but wonder what else he’s been talked into. But before you can say anything, the door of the café chimes as a new customer enters. Spencer glances at the clock, his expression shifting into a look of reluctant understanding.

“I’m sorry,” he says, standing up. “We should get back. But hey, maybe we can grab lunch again tomorrow?”

You smile up at him, your heart beating just a little faster. “Sure.”

For a moment, you think he might say something else, but instead, he simply nods and turns to leave. You watch him walk away, a quiet disappointment settling in your chest. It’s not what you wanted—not exactly—but there’s something about Spencer Reid that pulls you in, something you can’t quite place.

Maybe it’s the awkward energy he exudes, the way he fumbles over words yet still manages to be endearing. Maybe it’s the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, or the way he transforms so seamlessly into the confident, dominant figure on camera. Whatever it is, you want more.

When you get home that evening, your mind keeps wandering back to Spencer. His eyes, his smile, the way his cock had moved inside his co-star. You replay the scene in your head again and again until it feels like you can almost hear the sounds of sex, almost smell his cologne wafting in the air.

It takes you a while to realise your hand has wandered down your body, fingers slipping between your legs as you imagine Spencer touching you.

The thought sends a thrill through you. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve gotten off thinking about someone, but… this feels different. This feels real.

You press a finger to your clit, applying a little pressure. It’s not enough, not nearly enough, but it’s better than nothing. The image of Spencer’s face appears in your mind, his lips twisting into a pained expression as he comes. You imagine him over you instead of his co-star, his cock sinking into your pussy, his hands gripping your hips as he fucks you.

Your muscles clench at the thought, and a wave of desire surges through you. Your hand moves faster, fingers pressing and rubbing over your clit. You picture Spencer’s lips on yours, his breath hot against your skin as he speaks. You imagine the way his tongue would feel on you, the way his mouth would taste if he kissed you.

You come quickly, the pleasure overwhelming and swift. You barely have time to process it before the orgasm hits you, your body quaking as you climax.

When you open your eyes, your gaze falls on the ceiling. You feel dazed and far away, like you’ve left your body behind for a minute. It takes a while to come back to reality, to process what just happened.

But as you do, a sudden guilt creeps in. It’s not like this is something you’d never done before. But with Spencer Reid… it feels different.

When you wake up the next morning, you’re groggy, still caught in the afterglow of last night. It takes a few moments to remember the job, and another few to get out of bed.

As you shower, you can’t stop thinking of Spencer. The image of him on camera yesterday keeps popping up in your mind—his hips pumping between the woman’s legs, his fingers digging into her hips as he thrusts. And when he flipped her over… fuck. You can’t believe how much that got you going.

The way his cock disappeared into her, the sound of her gasps as he pounded into her.

You think of him behind you, his cock filling you, the length of him stretching your walls as he thrusts in and out of your body. The feel of his hands on your hips, holding you steady for his pleasure.

The image makes you gasp, and a wave of heat surges through you.

But as you stand there, water pouring down your body, another image pops up in your mind. Spencer across from you at the café, his cheeks flushing pink as he talks to you. His eyes brightening when you ask him a question, his smile growing ever so slightly as he answers.

You can’t help but be drawn to the contrast. Part of you wants to know more about his confidence on camera, to see what it’s like up close. Part of you just wants to pull the awkward, shy version closer and tell him that everything is okay.

There’s a lot you don’t know about Spencer Reid. But one thing is for sure.

You want more.

It takes a lot longer than usual to get ready for work, your mind wandering to all the possibilities. When you arrive, you head straight to the set, a strange mix of nerves and anticipation churning in you. It takes you a while to spot Spencer, and when you do, he’s chatting with the director.

It’s different now, somehow, seeing him in this space. He’s still awkward, still shy, but there’s an air of confidence around him that you didn’t notice before. You wonder what it would be like to be his co-star on camera. What it would be like to feel his hands on you.

The thought is a little startling, but you can’t deny it.

You watch as Spencer finishes speaking with the director, then turns towards you. His steps falter as he catches your gaze, and for a moment, it looks like he might change direction entirely. But then he pulls his glasses off, setting them down on a table near the door. Slipping his button-up over his head, leaving him in nothing but dress pants and an undershirt. He moves slowly, each action deliberate, and his gaze lingers on yours for a moment before he ducks into a nearby room.

When he comes back, his shirt is gone, and all that remains is smooth skin. You try not to stare, but your gaze tracks him anyway, watching as he makes his way to the main set. When he passes you, he catches your eyes again, giving you the tiniest smile.

You try not to wonder what that means, but it’s hard to focus on anything else.

When the director calls places, Spencer steps into position next to the female lead, and you take your spot behind the camera. As you adjust the settings, you try not to think too much of yesterday’s scene, but it’s impossible. The image of Spencer fucking his co-star from behind is still etched in your mind.

The director calls action, and Spencer launches himself at the woman, his mouth descending on hers. But as he kisses her, another man steps into view, and your gaze darts towards him.

He’s not as tall as Spencer, but his body is toned and well-defined, his cock already hard. He pushes Spencer against the woman, then starts to strip his pants off.

Your cheeks flush at the sight, and your mind struggles to make sense of what you’re watching. This isn’t how you imagined it would go, not at all.

Spencer presses his body against the woman’s, his lips moving against hers. He shifts her slightly, spreading her legs so the other man can take position between them.

You fumble with the camera for a moment before your gaze returns to the action. The sight of them all together is almost surreal. The other man slips his cock into the woman’s pussy, starting up a slow rhythm. He leans forward, and Spencer’s mouth drops to his neck, sucking a bruise onto his skin.

The woman gasps, pushing her hips back against the other man’s cock. Spencer shifts her again, and this time, he pulls away slightly, his mouth drifting lower on the other man’s chest. He sucks another mark onto his nipple, and you watch as his tongue teases over it for a moment.

Spencer pulls back then, his eyes darting towards you, before he glances down at the woman. He doesn’t need to say anything—his intention is clear. And without hesitation, the woman turns onto her hands and knees, the other man pulling out and flipping her over in one swift motion.

You shift the camera to capture the new angle, watching as Spencer moves behind the woman and slides his cock into her pussy. The other man moves with him, his hand wrapping around the woman’s neck as he slides his own cock inside her mouth.

The sight of them both fucking her is almost overwhelming. Spencer’s hand clamps down on the woman’s hip, his thrusts growing more frantic as he pounds into her from behind. The other man’s fingers dig into her hair, holding her still as he fucks her mouth. And when they both pause, you feel yourself holding your breath in anticipation.

Then Spencer’s mouth descends on the other man’s, and everything freezes. The sound of their kissing is loud and wet, and you try to remember to breathe, to remember to keep filming as they move together.

The camera shakes in your hands as you adjust it, trying to capture all three of them. You move closer, trying to take in everything at once. The sight of Spencer fucking the woman, of the other man fucking her mouth, of the three of them together. It’s almost too much to take in.

Spencer’s hand drifts down the woman’s back, then reaches up to tangle in her hair. He pulls her head back, and you can only imagine the sensation of his cock stretching her walls as he fucks into her. The other man pulls out of her mouth, then, and Spencer guides her down to take his cock instead.

The image sends a wave of lust through you. You can feel your pussy clenching at the thought of Spencer fucking her like this, at the thought of feeling him inside you. A sudden need surges in you, and before you can stop yourself, you whisper, “Fuck.”

The word is quiet, but it echoes in the room. Spencer’s eyes dart to yours, a look of surprise crossing his face. He falters for a moment, then continues, his hand reaching up to guide the woman’s head back and forth on the other man’s cock.

But his eyes remain locked on yours. And when you don’t look away, he starts to fuck the woman harder, his hips thrusting against her ass.

You’re frozen, unable to move. The camera is forgotten in your hands, your gaze fixed on Spencer as he fucks the woman in front of you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

The sound of his breathing fills the air, along with the sound of the woman’s gasps as he pumps into her. Then, without warning, he pulls out, his cock dripping with cum and precum.

He reaches for her, his mouth crashing down on hers as he pushes her back onto the mattress. The other man positions himself above her, and Spencer moves to kneel at her head. Then Spencer’s lips drop to the woman’s clit, and your gaze is drawn to the sight of him eating her out.

He sucks and licks at her pussy, his mouth moving over her clit. The other man groans, his hips starting up a slow rhythm as he fucks into her mouth. Spencer’s fingers move to her tits, playing with her nipples as he continues to eat her out with fervour.

The sounds of their fucking fill the air—the sound of the woman gasping, of Spencer moaning, of the other man’s breathing growing more rapid. You’re frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away from Spencer as he eats her out. He pauses for a moment to pull back and look at you, then his lips drop back down between her legs.

It’s hard not to imagine him like this over you—his mouth moving between your legs, his tongue teasing over your clit.

Your pussy clenches at the thought, and you realize you’re soaked. The sound of your own breathing echoes in your ears, and you try not to look at Spencer, but you can’t help it. He glances up at you, his eyes locking on yours.

The connection between you is sudden and intense. You want to do something, to say something, but before you can, the other man groans. His hips start to pump harder, and Spencer moves back, his body positioning between the woman’s thighs.

His cock is still hard, still wet with precum from fucking her before. He positions himself against her pussy, then pushes in, his body shuddering as he sinks inside her.

The sight of him fucking the woman is almost too much. His thrusts are slow and deliberate at first, but soon he’s pounding into her, his cock moving in and out of her pussy in quick, slick thrusts. His hand reaches down to play with her clit, and her gasps grow more frantic as he rubs her towards climax.

The air is thick with tension, your breath coming in quick gasps as you watch them fuck. You can barely hold the camera still, your fingers shaking with anticipation.

The woman’s gasps turn into a cry, and she starts to come. Her pussy clenches around Spencer’s cock, and his body shudders with pleasure. The other man grunts, his cock erupting in cum as he shoots onto the woman’s chest. And Spencer fucks her through her orgasm, his cock moving faster and faster until he comes with a cry, his cum spilling into the condom.

You don’t realize you’ve stopped filming until it’s all over. The camera hangs in your hand, forgotten as your gaze lingers on Spencer.

It takes him a moment to catch his breath. When he does, his eyes flicker towards yours, Spencer smiles, then ducks into the bathroom. He emerges a few minutes later with a towel around his neck and his glasses back in place. You try not to laugh at the sight—he still looks like the same awkward nerdy boy from before. But now, when you look at him, you can’t forget the image of him fucking a woman from behind, his cock sliding in and out of her as he sucked bruises into another man’s neck.

And you can’t help but wonder how it would feel to have him do that to you.

It’s hard to get any work done for the rest of the day. Your mind keeps wandering back to Spencer, to his mouth moving on the woman, to his cock fucking her from behind.

When it’s finally time to leave, you grab your bag and head towards the door. But before you make it, a hand reaches out, tugging you into a dressing room.

You stumble as you enter, nearly crashing into the person who pulled you in. But when you turn around, you realize it’s Spencer.

His cheeks flush a deep red, and he shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry,” he says quickly, his voice barely above a whisper, “I just… wanted to talk to you.”

A small laugh escapes you, and you smile at him. “It’s okay, I didn’t mind.” Then you add, “I guess this is your dressing room?”

He nods, looking around. “Yeah,” he says, “They gave me my own room.”

It’s not hard to see why. The room is small, but there’s enough space for a bed and a bathroom, and there’s a table near the door with a couple outfits laid out on it. You move towards the bed, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress as you look around.

Spencer takes a seat next to you, his fingers picking at a loose thread on the bedspread. The silence grows thick between you, but instead of feeling uncomfortable, it feels strangely intimate.

You lean back, shifting your body slightly so your thigh is brushing against his. He looks up at the movement, his cheeks flushing again.

A smile plays across your lips. “Did you like me watching you fuck her?” you ask.

Spencer shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flickering towards yours for just a moment. “Yes,” he says finally, his voice low. “I really liked it.”

You lean in then, your shoulder brushing against his. “You wanted to fuck me instead, didn’t you?”

Spencer swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Yes.”

You smile at him, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. He shivers at the touch, and a little thrill of power shoots through you. “You were really hot today.”

He ducks his head at the words, but you can still hear a whisper of “thank you” from him.

You move closer, your arm winding around his shoulders and pulling him against you. His head drops to your shoulder, and you shift slightly, letting your lips brush against his ear.

“I really liked watching you,” you say, your voice soft and low. “Watching you eat her out, watching you fuck her like that. I wanted to be underneath you.”

Spencer swallows again, his breathing growing shallow. His hands move to your thighs, squeezing your legs slightly.

“I wanted to feel you inside me,” you continue, “To feel your cock stretching me open. I bet you’d fuck me hard, wouldn’t you?”

He moans at the words, his fingers tightening on your thigh. You can feel his body shudder against yours, and the knowledge that you’re turning him on like this is intoxicating.

“Do you want to fuck me?” you ask.

He groans again, and this time there’s a yes, yes, please.

You reach up, running your fingers through his hair. “I want you to touch yourself while you think of me,” you say. “While you think of me underneath you, of your cock sliding into me.”

He moans, and you can feel his cock growing hard against your thigh. “And if you’re good,” you add, “Maybe I’ll let you fuck me.”

Spencer groans, and his hips push forward slightly. You can feel him growing more aroused, and for a moment you’re tempted to give in and let him fuck you now.

But then you remember the quiet, nervous boy who took forever to approach you at the café. And the idea that he’d let you control him like this—both in front of the camera and in private—is too enticing to ignore.

You lean back, taking your hand off him. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll even let you cum inside me.”

Spencer gasps, his breath catching in his throat.

His eyes drop to yours, filled with a desire. You smile back at him, but you know this isn’t over yet.

“Tell me again,” you say. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

He swallows, and you can see the hesitation in his eyes. “Please,” he says finally. “Let me touch you. Please let me fuck you.”

The words send a rush of power through you, and you have to work to keep from smiling. “Keep begging,” you say instead.

Spencer nods, his eyes wide. “Please let me fuck you,” he says again. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He’s growing more desperate by the second, his fingers gripping the fabric of your skirt tightly. You can hear the whine in his voice now, and you wonder how long he can hold out.

“Please,” he says again.

You watch him for a moment, studying him. He’s looking more and more desperate by the second. You wonder how much it would take to push him over the edge.

“You have to promise to do whatever I say,” you say finally. “Whenever I tell you to.”

Spencer nods so fast it’s almost funny. “Anything,” he says. “Whatever you want.”

A thrill of excitement shoots through you, and for a moment, you forget about anything other than the power he’s giving you. You could make him do anything—make him get on his hands and knees and beg for permission to touch you. Make him eat you out until you’re screaming and dripping with cum, and not let him stop until you’re satisfied. Make him fuck you until you can’t walk straight, until you’re sore and aching from taking his cock.

You shiver at the thought, your pussy growing slick with arousal. But you don’t stop, not yet. You reach for him, taking his face in your hands and making him look at you.

“You’re mine,” you say. “Do you understand?”

He nods again, his breath coming in quick pants. “Yes,” he gasps. “Whatever you want.” Then he adds, “Please.” The word is a moan, filled with desperation and need. “Please, fuck me.”

Your fingers tighten on his jaw, and you lean in closer. “Say it again,” you say.

He nods, his eyes growing desperate. “Please fuck me,” he says again, his voice a low whine. “I need it.”

A soft laugh escapes you, and you move closer to him, your lips brushing against his forehead. “I love the way you beg,” you say. “It makes me so wet.”

He shivers at the words, and you can hear the breath hitch in his throat.

“I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” he says. “To feel you fuck me until I’m raw.” He pauses, then adds, “Until I can’t take it anymore.”

The words are almost too much. You can feel your own arousal growing, your pussy aching with the need to be fucked.

“Maybe,” you say, “If you’re good enough, I’ll let you.”

Spencer whines at the words, his body shaking slightly. You lean in, your mouth moving to his neck. “Will that be enough?” you ask.

“Yes,” he gasps, his fingers clenching against your thighs. “Whatever you want. Just please let me fuck you.” The words are a moan now, filled with need.

The word sends a rush of arousal through you, and before he can say anything else, you pull back. “Good boy,” you say softly.

His fingers tighten on your leg, but he doesn’t say anything.

You smile, reaching for his glasses and pulling them off his face. “Get on your hands and knees,” you say then.

Spencer nods, moving to do what you said. You watch as he gets into position, his hands and knees on the mattress, his ass in the air. You move behind him, running your fingers over his hips, teasing his skin.

“Spread your legs,” you say. “I want to see how desperate you are for my cunt.”

Spencer does as he’s told, spreading his legs for you. And you can’t help the groan that escapes you at the sight. His cock is already leaking with precum, and you know he’s aching to be touched. To be fucked. To have your pussy wrapped around him, to feel him sink inside you until he’s balls deep.

The thought sends a rush of lust through you, and you lean forward, running your hands over his back. You move up to his shoulders, then run your fingers down his arms. When you get to his hands, you reach for the lube on the table.

“Get yourself nice and wet for me, baby,” you say, squeezing out a generous amount on his palms.

He does as he’s told. And when he looks back at you, you nod to his cock. “Touch yourself,” you say. “Show me how much you want to be inside me.”

He nods, and without hesitation, he reaches for his cock, his hand wrapping around it. You watch for a moment as he strokes himself, his movements slow at first. But it doesn’t take long for his hips to start pumping, his hand moving faster and faster as he strokes.

“Mmm,” you say, smiling at the sight. “I like that.”

Spencer moans, but he keeps going, his hand pumping his cock until he’s fucking his fist. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, and you can’t help your own arousal from growing. Your pussy is slick with need, and all it would take is one touch from his hand and you’d be cumming.

You shift closer to him, reaching out to run your fingers over the small of his back. Spencer gasps, his hips stuttering for a moment. But then he continues, his hand stroking his cock until it’s almost too much.

“Can you cum like this for me?” you ask.

The words are enough to push him over the edge. His hips thrust into his hand, and you can hear his breathing grow ragged. “Yes,” he whines. “God, yes.”

A smile plays on your lips. “Then do it,” you say. “Cum for me.”

He cries out at the words, his cock pulsing in his hand as he cums. The sound of his orgasm fills the room, and for a moment all you can do is watch him in wonder.

When he’s finished, he collapses back against you, his body relaxing against yours. You wrap your arms around him, holding him to your chest as you smile.

“Good boy,” you say. “Just like that.”

And when Spencer nods, you can’t help but feel a rush of pride at the thought of your obedient little slut. You’ll break him in slowly—letting him touch you and taste you until he’s desperate for your pussy. And then, when you’re ready, you’ll let him fuck you.

And once he has your pussy, he’ll never let go. He’ll be obsessed with it, with the feeling of being inside you. With the way your muscles clench around him, with the way your cunt grips him tight as he fucks into you. With the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his hips, with the way your pussy milks him until he cums deep inside you. With the sound of your moans as he fucks you until you’re aching and raw. With the taste of your pussy on his tongue as he eats you out until you cum on his face.

Spencer whimpers against you, and you run a hand through his hair, petting him. “Shhh,” you say. “That was good. You’re doing so well.”

He moans against you, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he nods, leaning back against your chest.

You smile, your fingers moving to his hair again. “There’s my good little slut,” you say.

He groans at the words, his breathing growing faster. You move your hand to his cock, running your fingers along the length. “Look how hard you are,” you say, stroking him lightly.

Spencer moans again, and you can feel him shudder against you. “Are you ready for more?” you ask.

“Yes, please,” he gasps.

You smile at the desperation in his voice. You pull back, looking down at him as you run your finger along his lips. “Open your mouth,” you say.

He does as he’s been told, and you push your finger between his lips until he sucks it into his mouth. You pull your finger away, smiling at him. Then you reach for a condom, and stand up. “Take off your clothes,” you tell him, tearing open the package.

Spencer’s eyes flicker to yours, but he moves quickly to comply, pulling off his pants and shirt until he’s naked. You take a moment to study him, to study the way his cock is hard for you, the way his chest rises and falls as he breathes.

Then you reach for him, guiding him back onto the bed. You push him down, spreading his legs as you move between them. He whimpers as you pull his thighs up, and for a moment, all you can do is look at him like this.

He’s beautiful—spread out on the bed for you, his thighs spread wide and his cock hard. His eyes are glazed with lust, and he’s breathing hard. You can see the way he’s shaking slightly, and you know how much he wants to be inside you.

A soft smile plays across your lips, and you reach for your clothes, pulling your skirt up around your waist. You can’t help the moan that escapes you as you sink down onto him, the feeling of his cock filling you almost too much to handle.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he gasps as you sink down further.

You moan at the words, your head dropping to his shoulder as you take his cock deeper. You can feel him stretching you, filling you until you’re almost too full to move. When you’re finally seated on his hips, you pause, looking down at the sight of his cock disappearing into you.

Spencer groans again, his hands moving to your thighs. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he whispers. “Your cunt is so perfect.” His hands tighten on your thighs, and he pushes up into you, making you moan.

You nod, and then lean down, taking his mouth in a kiss. You move slowly at first, your hips shifting back and forth as you grind down on his cock. But it’s not long before you’re fucking him in earnest, your body riding him until you’re gasping with pleasure.

He’s so good, you realize. He feels so good inside you, better than anyone you’ve ever had. His cock is thick and full, and you can feel the way it’s stretching you until you’re aching. The knowledge that he wants you—wants to fuck you and fill you with his cum—only makes it better.

You move faster, your body grinding down on his cock as you fuck him. Spencer is moaning now, his breath hot against your ear as he groans. His hand moves to your ass, his fingers gripping tightly as he pulls you down onto him.

“Yes,” he moans. “Like that. Fuck me like that.”

You nod, your hips picking up the pace until you’re bouncing on his cock. You can feel yourself building, the pleasure growing with each thrust until it’s almost overwhelming. You cry out as you cum, your body shaking with pleasure as your pussy clenches around him.

Spencer cries out with you, his hips bucking up into you as he cums. You collapse against him as he finishes, his cock throbbing deep inside you. You stay there for a few moments, until the last tremor of pleasure fades away. Then you pull off him, reaching for a cloth to clean yourself with.

When you look back at him, he’s watching you with wide eyes. “Was that…good?” he asks finally.

You smile at him. “It was amazing,” you say, and you mean it.

Spencer smiles back at you, then nods. You can see a little blush on his cheeks, and you can tell how pleased he is with himself.

You reach for his hand, taking it in yours as you smile again. “You were perfect,” you add. “Just like I knew you’d be.”

He flushes a little more at that, but you can see how happy he is. You squeeze his hand once more, then let go. “Come on,” you say. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

You help him up, then reach for his clothes. He watches as you hand them to him, and you can still see how aroused he is.

He moves to put his pants on, but pauses when you stop him with a hand on his shoulder. “Not those,” you say. You point to the corner of the room, where you can see his boxers. “Those.”

Spencer pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering to yours. “Okay,” he says softly, and he moves to do as he’s told.

You can’t help the smile that comes to your face at the sight, at the way he obediently puts on the boxers you tell him to.

“Come here,” you say when he’s done.

He moves to you, and you take his face in your hand. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” you say.

His eyes widen at the words, but he nods. “Yes,” he says, his voice soft.

You pull him closer, your lips moving to his ear. “And what do I want?” you ask.

“To fuck me,” he whispers.

You smile at that. “And you’ll do anything I want,” you say.

“Yes,” he agrees.

You run your thumb along his jaw, smiling at the sight of him standing there in boxers and a tee-shirt, waiting to do your bidding. “Good,” you say. “My good boy.”

Spencer moans at the words, leaning into your touch. “What do you want?” he asks.

You study him for a moment, then smile again. “For now?” you say. “Nothing. Just you.” You lean in, taking his mouth in a soft kiss. “I’m so lucky to have you,” you whisper against his lips.

Spencer makes a soft noise, then kisses you back. “I’m the lucky one,” he whispers against your mouth.

You smile at that, then pull back and take his hand. You lead him to the bed, then guide him onto it. “Stay,” you tell him as you pull the covers back.

He nods, watching you as you climb in next to him. You reach for his hand, then settle back against the headboard.

“I don’t have to leave?” he asks.

“No, baby, of course not, ” you reply. “You can stay.”

You watch as a smile spreads across his face, and he leans into you, his head resting on your shoulder. You can feel his fingers tighten on yours, and the knowledge that he wants to stay with you like this—that he wants to curl up in your arms and let you comfort him—is so sweet it almost hurts.

You wrap an arm around him, then move to pull him close. “Sleep,” you tell him softly.

“You deserve it.”

He doesn’t reply, but you can feel him relaxing against you, the tension in his body easing as you hold him. He’s warm against your side, and you can smell the scent of soap and lube on him. You hold him for a moment more, then reach to turn off the light.

“Rest now,” you say. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

Spencer nods, his fingers tightening on yours one more time. Then he drifts off to sleep, and you stay with him until you fall asleep too. You dream of the next time you’ll fuck him, of the things you’ll do to him until he’s begging for your mercy.

★

#missarchive #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #bau x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader

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nhmkhnh · 8 days ago

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vi biceps need more attention guys.

dom!vi x sub!fem!reader || nsfw ;; arm kink ;; muscle worship.

the first time you noticed her biceps—really noticed them—you swear your soul left your body.

they weren’t just muscular. they were devastating.

taut and cut with the kind of definition that screamed years of street fights and prison time, her biceps weren’t for show. they were for breaking people. thick, powerful, with a hardness that barely fit beneath her shirts. when she rolled up her sleeves, the swell of her arms became a slow-motion distraction you couldn’t tear your eyes from. veins popped prettily beneath the skin, twitching whenever she clenched her fist or flexed just slightly. and god, she always did it so casually—like her arms weren’t the seventh deadly sin.

running from the edge of her shoulder and disappearing just behind the curve of her bicep was a black ink tattoo, something tribal and bold, trailing down the back of her arm like a secret meant to be followed with your tongue. when she lifted her arms, that ink peeked out—shimmering over muscle, stretching with every move like it wanted to wrap around your throat.

you couldn’t stop looking. and she had no idea. …or maybe she did.

the room was quiet—too quiet. sweat clung to your skin like a second layer. you were already trembling when she leaned in.

“you keep starin’ at my arms like that, baby…” vi’s voice dipped low, gravel-slick and cocky. “you wanna ride ‘em or somethin’?”

you didn’t answer fast enough.

so she flipped you over.

you yelped, palms scraping against the sheets as she straddled the back of your thighs, her weight pressing you down. her hand—that huge, calloused hand—came down flat against the mattress beside your head. then the other. she locked her arms straight and lowered her chest to yours, the muscles of her arms tightening above you like fucking marble.

“feel that?” she whispered, dragging her lips across your cheek.

you did. oh, god, you did. her biceps were pulsing on either side of your head, caging you in like she was showing off, flexing just to let you know she could break the bed—or your mind—if she wanted.

and then she bent her elbows.

the second she dropped to her forearms, her biceps flexed wide—hard, solid, right against your throat as her arms bracketed your head. it wasn’t enough to choke, but it was enough to make you whimper. enough to make your thighs twitch open.

“you wanted this, huh?” she murmured, licking a slow stripe along your neck. “all that time eye-fucking my arms like a lil’ slut. now you’re under ’em.”

you nodded—frantic, shaky.

and vi grinned.

she slid one arm beneath your head, bicep pressing right against your jaw, and locked it tight. not around your neck, no—under you. like a pillow made of tension and heat and filthy promise. her other hand? it slipped between your thighs, fingers thick and soaked, curling up until you sobbed.

every time she curled her fingers inside you, her bicep tensed beneath your face. you could feel the way it flexed, could see the veins bulge in the corner of your vision when you dared to look down. she was doing it on purpose.

every stroke, every thrust—her arm flexed just a little more.

“you’re grindin’ on my arm,” she panted against your ear, voice gone husky. “you that desperate, baby? fuckin’ yourself on my bicep?”

you didn’t mean to moan. but it ripped from your throat like a confession.

she pushed deeper.

and then she did it—flexed her whole arm. deliberately. slowly. the muscle under your head thickened, bulged, raised your chin like you were a doll being lifted by brute force alone. your mouth dropped open. you nearly came just from that.

“god, you’re so cute when you whimper.” vi laughed, breath ragged now. “might start sleepin’ like this. keepin’ you on my arm, real nice. no pillow, just me.”

she thrust harder. the bicep twitched. you broke.

legs spasming, you came with a cry muffled against her shoulder, trembling all over her arm. she didn’t stop. not until you were gasping, teeth bared, pleading for her to ease up.

but vi just nuzzled into your temple and cooed, “nah, baby. you asked for this. now you’re gonna come again. on my arm this time.”

and you did.

again. and again. and again.

#vi x reader #violet x reader #vi arcane #arcane #smut

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sturnioz · 8 months ago

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꒰ STURNIOZ KINKTOBER '24 ꒱ !

fratboy!chris takes shy!reader to a haunted house at a carnival where she ends up in his arms for more reasons that one.

you weren't a brave person.

you could barely even watch a scary movie without shivering in fear, so why did chris think it was a good idea to drag you to a haunted house? the carnival was pretty, you admit to that, and the smell of popcorn made your mouth water, but the haunted houses that loomed before you ominously made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

it was the scare actors that loitered outside that made it worse for you too; clad in ripped costumes and scarily accurate makeup, their sinister grins and contact eyes making your stomach churn. they stalked the crowd, creeping up behind people to hear their screams of terror.

you feel a knot tighten in your chest, a mix of dread and embarrassment as you cling to your friend's arm, desperately hiding your face in her shoulder as you near closer and closer towards the house.

but then, much to your dismay, nate swoops in and hoists her over his shoulder, laughing as he dashed into the haunted house with her giggling through screams. you stand frozen outside the entrance, your heart pounding in your ears as you help up the queue.

there's no way you're going in there. no way. not a chance.

"move, kid," chris's voice slices through your thoughts, his hand gripping your bicep as he pulls you into the dark abyss of the haunted house before you could even protest.

as the door slams shut behind you, darkness envelopes you immediately, and you can hear every little sound around you — the shuffling of feet, the low growls echoing in the shadows. you instinctively press yourself against chris' side, gripping his sweatshirt like a lifeline.

"get off me... actin' like a fuckin'—" he grumbles under his breath, but you can barely register his words as you're far too busy wishing you could disappear, your pulse quickening with every creak of the floorboards and every sinister whisper that seems to swirl around you.

with each hesitant step deeper into the haunted house, your anxiety spikes, the flickering lights above your heads casting eerie shadows that dance on the walls, and you can feel the presence of scare actors lurking just out of sight, ready to pounce.

you fight the urge to scream, your mind racing with thoughts of escape, but you grip chris tighter, shoving your face into his arm to block out the terrifying sights around you.

"it's not even scary, kid. it's pathetic," chris says disinterestedly, his tone dripping with disdain, clearly unfazed by everything. "just bein' all dramatic 'n shit.. you crybaby."

"i'm not even crying," you shoot back to defend yourself, a pout forming on your lips as you peek out from behind his arm to glare at him weakly. "and it is sca—"

before you can finish, someone leaps out of the shadows with a high=pitched shriek, black hair covering their face and warms outstretched towards you, sending a jolt of pure fear coursing through you.

you scream, throwing yourself against chris' chest, burying your face into his sweater as you cling to his waist, refusing to let go.

you can feel him snort, and it only makes your cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. "ah... don't worry, kid. m'gonna keep you alll safe," his voice drips with condescension, and you hate how much it bothers you when he pats the top of your head mockingly.

he continues to walk forward, awkwardly shuffling with you still clinging tightly, determined not to let go or even glance at where you're going. every sound—every scream from the actors—makes you jump and whine, and you can't help but feel they're doing an excellent fucking job at their terrifying roles.

yet, you refuse to spare them a look as chris twists and turns through the dim hallways, ignoring the sounds of his frustrated grunts every time you press yourself against him at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"kid, you gotta stop movin'," he whispers in your ear, but you barely listen, desperate to get out and leave the haunted house as you jump again when another sudden noise startles you,, accidentally rubbing up against him. "shit. you doin' this on purpose or somethin'? you tryin' to piss me off? makin' me fuckin; hard in haunted house — jesus."

"i hate it in here," you whine pathetically, your voice trembling, completely oblivious to how your constant jumping and the way you cling to him is clearly affecting him. "i wanna go. i wanna leave."

"don't be a baby," chris scoffs, watching as you bury your face deeper into his chest. he clicks his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head in disbelief. "this is stupid. you're not even lookin' at them; you're just hidin', and you're still scared?"

when you don't reply, chris scoffs again, rolling his eyes. despite his irritation, he awkwardly shuffles forward again, using one arm to wrap around your shoulders as he navigates through the twisting hallways, the sounds of horrors beginning to fade away.

suddenly, you hear him push open a door, and you stumble slightly as he guides you inside, still clinging to him for dear life. "a'ight, let go of me, kid s'just me 'n you in here."

hesitant, you remain pressed against him, but gradually loosen your grip and take a step back, eyebrows furrowing as you glance around the room, realising you're in a staff room of some sort — dimly lit and cluttered with props.

"are we.. supposed to be in here?"

"obviously not," chris scoffs, his tone dripping with sarcasm. he then tilts his head to the side, his eyes narrowing as a smirk slowly spreads across his lips. "y'know... you're really livin' up to your nickname, bun... all scared 'n shit, makin' me look after you."

the teasing in his voice makes your face grow hot, a mix of embarrassment and frustration bubbling inside you. you glare at him, but the effect is lost as you feel the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

"i don't like scary stuff," you admit, your tone a little pathetic, which only makes you frown.

"didn't think it was that bad," chris drawls, taking a step closer, almost corning you against the wall which makes a flutter of nerves tickle your belly. "though, i think you rubbin' against me was on purpose, bun.. you tryin' to start somethin'?"

"what?" you blink, mouth open and closing repeatedly. "n-no, i just.. i was scared!"

"uh-huh," chris nods slowly, his smirk widening as he fully corners you against the wall, his hands resting on your hips, making your breath hitch. "you uh, you sure about that? 'cos it felt like you wanted somethin' from me."

the proximity is overwhelming, and you can feel the heat radiating off of him. your heart races rapidly against your chest, "i..."

chris leans in slightly, his breath brushing across your face, sending a shiver down your spine. "you what?"

you swallow hard, trying to form a coherent response, but all you can think about is how close he is, how his hands feel on your hips. "i just... i didn't mean.."

"didn't mean to what?" he presses again, voice low and teasing, smirk never wavering. "didn't mean to get scared? or didn't mean to get me hard?"

you can't help but squirm under his gaze, "both?"

chirs hums at that, his hands sliding down to your ass, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as his hips grind against yours, letting you feel the hard bulge straining against his jeans, and a whimper escapes your throat as you squirm again under his grip.

his hands move again, slipping underneath your skirt to cup your pussy, and he gives you a mocking smile as his fingers press against the damp patch on your panties. "really?"

you don't respond to that, not even sure how to come up with one to explain your sudden arousal as he slowly pushes the fabric to the side and sliding two fingers deep inside your pussy, causing you to cry out at the intrusion, immediately covering your mouth to muffle your noises.

"nah, don't worry about that..." chris purrs, pumping his fingers in and out of your spongy walls, curling his fingers and rubbing against the sweet spot with each stroke. "we're in a haunted house, bun... scream."

your hips buck against his hand, gummy walls clenching around his fingers, letting out a choked sob when he adds a third, stretching you out.

"thaaats it," chris nods, licking at his lips as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm circles. "make all the noises f'me. wanna hear you." chris other hand unbuckles his belt, freeing his cock and removing his fingers from your cunt to rub the tip through your soaked folds, coating himself in your arousal. "deep breath, bun. remember?"

you nod repeatedly, sucking in a deep breath as chris eases himself into your pussy, burying himself to the hilt with one deep thrust. your nails dig into his shoulders as chris' head drops down to yours, teeth grazing your skin as he pulls almost all the way out before driving back in, setting a pace as he pounds into you.

the wall rattles behind you, props cluttering to the ground in a mess, but you don't pay it any mind as you moan loudly in his ears, tears of pleasure prickling at the corners of your eyes as your mind reels.

"please, chris," you whimper out his name, not knowing if you're begging for him to slow down or pleading for him to never stop as you grip his shoulders tighter, blubbering as your vision blurs. "please."

chris chuckles in your ears, his hand slipping behind the back of your knee to pull your leg up around his waist, pressing his cock into you deeper, his pelvis rubbing against your clit for extra stimulation.

"s'what i thought, bun," he murmurs quietly, teeth tugging at your earlobe as he drives his cock repeatedly into your pussy. "always a fuckin' mess on my cock."

#©sturnioz #꒰ STURNIOZ KINKTOBER '24 ꒱ !#chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #☆ fratboy!chris #☆ shy!reader #꒰ fratboy!chris x shy!reader prompt ꒱

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ceridescent · 2 months ago

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strap me sunday — m., wanda

power bottom!wanda x service top!f reader

summary: lazy sunday turns into strap-me sunday!

warning/s: STRAP, rough sex, dirty talk, breast play, mommy kink (slight), spit kink, hair pulling, slapping, L-bombs; a little aftercare at the end.

word count: 1, 948

author’s note: a little prelude for ‘you’re a smart girl’ (not affiliated) because not writing for an entire year and a half and producing something big here is terrifying. btw, it’s sunday today. don’t let a bunch of calendar’s convince you otherwise. yay 1st post after a year and a half! 🥳

“yeah?” wanda pants, whimpering as you nod your head, mouth wide open in fascination as you stare above you. it’s not every time you get to do this to her. “you want me slow, darling?” you aggressively nod your head, “y-yes! i-i want to see it disappear inside you…” your hands fisting the messy sheets, afraid to touch her body. her slicked, glistening, smooth body.

wanda shakes her head, her tongue flicking the roof of her mouth, making ticking sounds. “you filthy girl,” she sniggers, “you’ve learnt a lot from me, haven’t you?” teasing her hole on the tip of the red didlo clamped around a harness, the squelch causing you both to moan in tandem.

“yeah…”

“yeah?”

“mhmm,” you whimper as she finally slides her hole down into the strap-on, a trickle of wanda’s cum coating the length. her cheeks are fluffed out red from the past hour of indulging; the ceremonious lazy sunday turned into strap-me sunday just because you decided to tempt the devil by wearing nothing underneath the apron whilst you baked pie. her fingers magically appeared in between your legs as you checked the oven midway the timer, ass in the air.

you’re not complaining at all, though. you’re right where you want to be.

you feel the strap pressing against your pelvis as wanda descends further, the dildo stretching her pussy in a way you’ve never seen before. they’re so swollen and puffed out, and oh-so slick with her thick cum. it didn’t matter you cleaned it off a while ago after she came in your mouth twice, as with the idea of riding you was something she has been fantasizing about for a while.

“you see me, baby? you see my pussy stretched out for you?” she grunts, mostly to herself. you whimper in response, the words lost in your head. wanda hits the base and a full deep moan lurches out of her throat, folding herself over by your torso to get a good grip at the sheets.

“are you okay?” you ask, sitting up to get closer to her, which only makes her yelp.

“i’m sorry!” you exclaim, your eyes bulging out of your eye sockets. wanda whimpers and reaches for you, gripping the back of your head, “i-it’s okay, my love, i-i was just getting used to t-the angle, that’s all,” she consoles, squeezing your hand and giving you a strained smile.

you fall back down the mattress holding her hand, “okay, tell me when to start moving!” taking breaths in between.

“o-okay,” wanda sighs and gulps down her saliva. giggling to herself, “i’m not even moving yet but i’m about to drool,” giving a little bounce and contorting her face in pleasure at the process.

you squirm at the pressure on your pelvis as wanda bounces again, this time with more intent, another heavenly moan falling from her swelling red lips.

“y-you can drool all you want, wanda, i don’t mind,” you say, obediently, naturally.

she nods her head, eyes shut tight, catching the feeling of the shaft hitting her at the spot. she squirms and finds herself arching her back, her hands firmly placed on either side of your knees behind her, fully displaying herself to you.

wanda’s breasts move in tandem with her thrusts, her nipples peaking and just begging to be sucked. her chest and torso littered with love bites both purple and red, the colorful blotches marking your territory. sweat begins to form around her forehead.

“y/n, baby,” she whines in both sweetness and need, your attention automatically scanning her gorgeous face, her hands gripping onto your hips. she looks at you with a pleasure-stricken face you can’t help but to match, both of your inhibitions melting away.

“a-ah! please-“

“right there?” you tease as you drive your hips roughly into her, the momentum causing her to plop down against your torso. “OH!” wanda yelps and immediately gets back on top, her entire body convulsing in pleasure. ““god, baby! yes! yes! right there! right there!”

each moan comes out deep and guttural, continuously leaving her swollen mouth like an avalanche.

“you like that?”

a long, animalistic growl comes out, “if you don’t shut up-!”

“if i don’t what?” whilst you tease yet again, abruptly sitting up from your previous position. grabbing her hips, completely ramming her very own strap-on into her, fucking her to oblivion.

her pussy is so drenched, each thrust sets a disgusting squelch, your thighs wet with her cum.

“fuck,” you pant, “your pussy sound so fucking good!”

pressing your lips against wanda’s molded into a sloppy kiss, more wanton than the next, inhaling every moan coming from her mouth. the pounding goes on, your tempo and precision never once faltering. sucking her tongue and biting her lip simultaneously as she weakly tongues you back, giving your all to stimulate her to the brim.

as you do so, your right hand finds her hardened nipple. a tiny flick causes her to get more feral as she grabs at your hair, pulling at it. you both moan at the same time when you begin to twist and pull at her nipple, your name falling from wanda’s lips like a mantra.

“please, baby, n-need your mouth, please-!”

“oh you want it?” wanda nods her head with a whimper.

“you want it so bad?”

you take her in your mouth before she could respond, giggling as a scream falls from her mouth.

“oh my god, y/n!”

you suck profusely as if it’s your last lollipop in the world.

“oh my god, no! no!”

wanda pushes you until you land on your back again, her hands pinning your wrists on the mattress as her bouncing degrades into grinding.

“i-i can’t, baby,” she whimpers, a frown etching on her glowing face, brows furrowed as the pleasure glues itself there, “i don’t want to come yet. let me savor this.”

“whatever you want, wanda,” you smile, caressing her hip, “i love you,”

“i love you, honey. thank you,”

“anything for you,” you say and then flick at her nipple. “hey!”

you giggle, “sorry, i can’t help it,” biting your lip. “i know,” wanda responds with a smirk, “i’m irresistible!”

“cocky!” you retort back with a roll, causing her to yelp. she raises her brow, slapping the side of your abdomen. “pun?” she asks, beginning to thrust her hips again. you mewl at the sight, “no ma’am.”

“good. good girl,”

you moan in approval at the pet name as you drive the fake cock slowly into her pussy, meeting resistance at every squelchy thrust. your own clit twitches at the sound, so close to the edge.

“wanda, come on, please, oh, you feel so good,”

“you feel so good to me, baby.”

“you feel so good around me!”

one hard thrust, “yeah?” her pitch getting higher, “yes, i can feel you squeezing this cock so hard,” her moans erratic. “you’re about to come, aren’t you, wanda?”

she whimpers and nods her head, her moans getting higher and breathier.

“a-and who’s c-cock is t-this?”

wanda’s as magnificent as ever — hair undone, sweat clinging onto her temples, swollen mouth open, in pure bliss.

“my mommy’s cock.”

“fuck! me! fuck!”

wanda bounces on top of you like there’s no tomorrow, each one pressing harder against your clit. her tits goes along with the flow of it all, your hips obeying her commands. “please, wanda-!”

“open your mouth,”

you thrust harder, only caring about her, obsessed at the sight of her, glistening in both sweat and cum, her command going over your head.

“i said, open your mouth!” she yells and squeezes your jaw, your mouth hanging open immediately.

you unclench then, wanda’s two fingers plunging inside of you, opening your jaw wider than they already are. before you could swipe and suck, she pulls them away only to be greeted by her spit.

it hits you then, your back arching into a perfect curve, “that’s right,” jackhammering the cock into her tight pussy, taking her spit after spit, choking on it, crying for more. “i-i’m sooo close!”

“w-what’s my name?” wanda snaps, slapping your tits. she smirks, then nods, when you say, “mommy, i’m yours!”

another slap lands against your face, this time in approval, your eyes blurry due to the haze and lust, your apex minutes before you.

“that’s right, my baby,” wanda croaks, “but you’re not fucking me hard enough to still be able to say these big words.”

“oh wanda,” you murmur incoherently, your tongue lax and melting away with your brain. you grip her sides and slam your hips into her, pinning her hands on either side of her so she has no choice but to just take it.

““i-i can’t any-m-more—i’m s-so-! i want to come!” and she only moans at my neediness. “mommy’s close too, baby, come with me, okay?”

you nod your head as you whimper, “p-please,” your sight turning glossy as you reach over wanda’s clit and rub over it. she tells and falls into you, curving her back as she bites into your shoulder.

“come with me, y/n,” she pants into your ear, whimpering as you scream into your climax, your hips stuttering, wanda coming apart with you.

you fall into the mattress, exhaustion mingling with gravity, the full weight of wanda’s body furthering you into the post-bliss of it all. you’re giggling as wanda catches her breath, joining along as she kisses your jaw, moaning in content.

“oh, wanda!” you sigh. what a heavenly way to die.

“what was that?” she teases, palming your abdomen, her fingertips trailing close to the strap clipped around your pelvis. you squirm and whimper, shaking your head.

“just your average strap-me sunday, i think,” you cackle as soon as the words left your mouth, tilting your head to admire the soft pinks dusting wanda’s cheeks, and her oh-so green dilated orbs you so love to see. she takes your cheek into her hand and pulls you into her, her bright, gummy teeth blinding your sight.

“so pretty, my baby,” you whisper, tangling your fingers into the locks of her auburn hair, meeting your noses together for an eskimo.

the giggles that fill the bedroom remind you of two high school girls discovering the peculiarity of kissing another of the same sex. the endless possibility of taking it further, knowing no one will suspect. the possibility that no one ever will. the relief that no one will take it away.

“i think…” wanda begins with a rasp in her voice, her sokovian accent taking over, “that…” throwing over her leg across your torso, climbing on top of you without breaking eye contact, “…no one could ever compare…” pecking your lips with soft kisses, her hair falling over your faces like a curtain.

“i certainly hope so!”

she giggles, kissing down your body, fluttering her eyes close as you sigh above her, taking it like all the kindness given to you.

“i love you so much, moy malysh,”

wanda, with so much concern, slowly takes the strap-on off your pelvis, gasping at the sight before her. she laps at your juices as you squirm, the touch of her warm tongue blossoms a riveting adoration within you, sighing at the affection she’s nurturing you.

“after this,” she starts, her words muffled as she licks a stripe off your pussy, “i’ll get us on a warm bath,” kissing your clit as you moan, “i’ll dress you up for comfort,” sucking into your bundle of nerves like she never gets enough, “and we’ll eat that pie you so sexily baked for us,” prying apart your thighs to make more room for her ministrations.

“how’s that sound?”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff smut

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thinkingotherwise · 10 months ago

Text

Summer time!

~Let's go to the beach-each Let's go get a wave...~

I'm not a beach person but anything for the Bofurin Primo

Wind Breaker characters on the beach with you

Bubble gun 🫧🔫

Seiryu Sakaki - The moment you took out the bubble gun his eyes were glued to it and he waited for the perfect moment. You filled it with bubble liquid and when your finger moved to the trigger to try it, it disappeared from your hand within a second. You looked surprised to the side to see Seiryuu smirking at you before his hand raised higher and he used it making the bubbles fall down around you and on your body.

Mitsuki Kiryu - Your beach bag was slowly emptying as you pulled out everything you needed. Noticing the toy in your collection he didn't think twice before grabbing it. His eyes glimmered in joy while his lips turned into a smirk. He gave you a quick kiss and tested the bubble gun before running around while attacking his friends with the bubbles.

Kotoha Tachibana - Your gaze turned to her, as she lay down on her beach chair. You contemplated hard about what to do, was your plan gonna work? Sink or swim, let's go. You quickly made up your mind and sneakily took out the bubble gun before stealthily standing behind her. Your hand extended and bubbles came out of the toy and coated her in the soapy substance. She sighed deeply before quickly turning to you and grabbing the thing from your hand. Her face scowling while yours pouted begging for her to give it back.

Takeshi Enomoto - You loved to irritate him, lovingly of course. Anything to have his attention on you and only you. And he, because he loved you way too much, knew you well enough to be reacting to your strange antics in a different way than this. He had a poker face while you ran around him spraying the bubbles around him and then around you playing with them and trying to pop each one that appeared. He breathed deeply and just let you have the time of your life. Seeing your big grin a small smile appeared on his face.

Inflatable flaming/unicorn 🦄🦩

Jo Togame - Oh it was such a great purchase. You thought as you finished pumping the air inside the pink flamingo float. It was perfect for keeping some distance from the rest of the unruly guys from Shishitoren and their water shenanigans. You grabbed the float and entered the water with it before proudly sitting on it and watching everyone have fun and drown themselves (playfully). That was until he swam closer to you and tried to get you to join them. Yet your stubborn self decided to keep yourself on top of the pink flamingo. His smirk made you question his next actions as he swam under water disappearing from your view. Suddenly you were thrown from the float with a yelp and as you came up above the water he smirked at you grabbing you closer to him and swimming closer to others while you trashed in his hold.

Choji Tomiyama - If you knew it would happen you would bring a mattress or something bigger to lay on, rather than the unicorn float. And what exactly happened? You weren't sure either, one second you were floating on the unicorn happily playing with your hands in the water, and the next he appeared above you falling down on you as if jumping from somewhere, or maybe one of the guys helped him. It didn't end well, because as soon as he landed on you, both of you went flying as the unicorn titled sideways making you fall into the water with a splash and he laughed joyfully wanting to do this again.

Yukinari Arima - It was such a bad idea. You jumped in the water trying to get on top of the unicorn float you brought with you to the beach. You should've climbed it when the water wasn't so deep, also as soon as you thought about it you should've done it, maybe then you wouldn't still be in the water while he was taking your place on the float. He made fun of you for not being able to climb on the unicorn and when you told him he couldn't do it as well he proved you wrong. And now the unicorn was stolen from you as you whined from your place in the water and he laughed joyfully sinking in his victory.

Yuto Kusumi - You laughed to yourself from your place above water as you floated happily. He swam near you asking if you would let him join you. After you declined it with a grin he decided to take some revenge. The sun brought you sleepiness and you had a quick nap all the while he watched as you drifted further away but always making sure it wasn't too far away from him. When you finally woke up wiping the sleep from your eyes you were further in the water than you expected and panicked a little calling for him to help you out. He teased you but still came to help you. In thanks you let him join you on the pink flamingo.

Sunscreen ☀️🧴

Toma Hiiragi - His eyes furrowed the moment the words left the stranger's mouth. He quickly made his way to you and glared at him before grabbing the sunscreen bottle from your hands and moving to kneel beside you. You giggled as he voiced that you're perfectly fine and don't need this stranger's help. He can't even imagine anyone else but him touching you and massaging the sunscreen onto your body. You happily positioned yourself as his hands started moving over your warm skin, teasing him here and there that you wouldn't let anyone else do it and there was no need for him to get jealous.

Minoru Kanuma - You finished putting the sunscreen on him and then he moved to do the same for you. Although the feeling was slightly different than you thought as his fingers slowly moved over your body. First, you didn't mind it all that much focusing simply on the feeling of his palm against you but then you thought about it more and when it came to you, you turned to him with accusation evident on your face. You asked him if he was writing on your back instead of applying the sunscreen evenly and he couldn't help the laugh that left his mouth as you glared at him in betrayal. After confirming your accusation he promised to do it correctly this time.

Ren Kaji - He sat down beside you watching carefully as you applied the sunscreen over your legs and arms. His gaze followed the movement of your fingers as if hypnotized and you smirked to yourself when you noticed it from the corner of your eyes. The next moment the bottle was in front of him as you gazed at him with your pretty eyes asking him to put it on you. He gulped grabbing the sunscreen and facing your partially naked body. And then you lay down telling him to sit on your legs because that way it'd be easier. He didn't know why he agreed but he did and later he had to keep himself in check as his hands slowly massaged the substance over your warm and soft skin.

Akihiko Nirei - The moment you finished putting on your sunscreen you turned with a smile to him. He gulped seeing the mischievous sparkle in your eyes and when you proposed to put the thing on his back he flushed red. He stuttered out a confirmation while you positioned yourself behind him your chest close to his back making him aware of the warmth and closeness of your body. And then your hands touched his skin and he felt a shiver ran down his spine. He quickly stood up tripping over his legs as he ran away yelling that he was going to swim first and later he would join you sunbathing. In reality, he just needed to cool himself off and let his heart slow down from the quick beat your hands brought it to.

Ice cream 🍨🍦

Hajime Umemiya - Noticing the booth near the beach you didn't think twice before grabbing his hand and bringing him to get some ice cream. It was the perfect sweet dessert for the hot day and you read all the names of flavours thinking which one would be the best. After choosing your favourite you shared it with him and he decided to buy two cones, one for each of you. At least you thought so when he ordered them. When the stall booth employee gave it to him he didn't let you grab your ice cream as he brought it to your lips. It seemed like a sweet gesture and you licked the ice tasting the sweetness. You voiced your approval and before you leaned to get another bite it was gone from your sight just like he, who ran away while laughing merrily with both cones in his hands. You chased after him yelling his name and how he was a thief.

Hayato Suou - You brought the ice cream cone to your mouth licking the slowly melting dessert trying to keep it from dirtying your fingers. It was a hard task especially when the weather was so hot it melted even before you grabbed it from his hand. He watched carefully his cup of ice forgotten and only grabbed more tightly with each second his eyes were stuck on you. The ice finally got to you and started dripping down your fingers and you tried to lick it off while a small pout was visible on your face. You stopped your task despite your determination and turned to him to ask if he liked the sweet dessert only to be met with his eyes on you while his mouth was softly opened in arousal.

Uryu Sakaki - Both of you enjoyed the ice cream cups that you got all while sitting on the beach towel and enjoying the breeze of the sea. He hummed happily with each spoon that entered his mouth the whipped cream and sparkles making his mood even better. You yourself liked your dessert but his big smile made it taste even better. And when you noticed the ice cream at the corner of his mouth you chuckled softly getting his attention. You placed the cup by your leg as your now empty hands grabbed his chin and cheek and you leaned closer. Your lips touched the corner of his getting the cold treat and you pulled away while licking your lips. His eyes widened as his face got redder and not necessarily from the hot weather.

Kota Sako - With him, it seemed like a checkpoint, to get some sweet dessert anywhere you were. Somehow he had this 6th sense to pick the best place and the best food options. And so you found yourself with two pretty and tasty ice cream desserts in front of you. You ate yours praising him for his great choice and he smiled enjoying his. Then he picked the best flavours that he knew you'd like and scooped them on his spoon before extending it towards you. You let him feed you feeling warm as he leaned close to be more comfortable. You of course reciprocated and the both of you ate the desserts sharing them between you two.

Playing in water 🌊💦

Tasuku Tsubakino - You had your swimwear on. It was flattering on you and fit you perfectly. And you had to use it in the water. You looked at them, as they were lying there in the beach chair tanning. You huffed to yourself knowing it was already a few good minutes that the both of you spent not in the water, where you really wanted to be. You asked once more if they wanted to join you but as you received yet another no you begrudgingly entered the water alone. Your gaze moved to them as they turned to their stomach and away from you and you smirked as a plan developed in your mind. You quickly ran up to them and picked them up as they yelled at the cold water clinging to you and squirmed in your hold. You held them tightly to your chest and entered the water together while they squealed and when you let them down on their legs they had no mercy. They splashed you just like you wanted while yelling at you and laughing when you begged them to stop.

Taiga Tsugeura - He was the one to bring you to the water and encourage you to play with him as you splashed joyfully. Then he proposed to bring you on his shoulder and carry you. Soon you made it into a game with others to see who was the best. His hands tightly gripped at your legs as he maneuvered expertly making you the winner and taking part in pushing every opponent of yours into the water. In the end, in celebration, and with your acceptance he threw you back from his shoulders making sure you were alright, and grabbing at your waist as he helped you swim back above the water.

Teruomi Inugami - You were lying on the beach towel enjoying the sunshine unaware of what he was getting ready for. Somehow he got his hands on the water pump gun. How? You weren't sure he just got it and you got to know about it only when he ran up to you attacking you and spraying the water over you. You watched in relief as he avoided your bag and all the things you brought only wetting your swimsuit and the towel you were on as you grabbed it and tried to cover yourself from his attacks. His laughter filled the air and he jumped to sit near you when the water gun was empty. You grimaced at him but seeing his happy face a smile appeared on yours as well.

Swimsuit 👙 🩳

Kyotaro Sugishita - As soon as you came to the beach everyone started getting ready taking their clothes off or going to the changing rooms to put on their swimsuits. He was already dressed in one so he just started pulling out the beach mat for the both of you. His eyes caught the movement from your side and he stared with open mouth while you took off your clothes. Left in your chosen swimsuit he immediately stood up and put the Hawaiian shirt he had on around your shoulder to make sure others don't look at your body.

Haruka Sakura - Both of you decided to do some shopping for the beach trip Umemiya was organizing. Sakura was quick to pick some swimming trunks for himself while you had your hands full of colorful swimwear you wanted to try on. You made him wait for you and give opinions about which was the best choice. His face was red basically all the time as you showed off the swimsuits to him in the changing room. He was literally having the best and worst time of his life.

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jedisupernova · 3 months ago

Text

falling for the mafia boss's son, kwon jiyong

notes minors dni contains fem reader, non idol au, always written with plus size reader in mind as i am myself but anyone can read, takes place in the late 90s (hence the mention of certain technology or media,) mentions of smoking and drinking, reader and jiyong are both twenty-four, very much slice of life and dialogue heavy, very cute and banter-filled meeting!, jiyong being a flirt (or my attempt at writing flirting,) jiyong and reader are down bad (a lot of banter, her parents are on the stricter side; he has to sneak in) reader and jiyong being silly, yearning, angst (miscommunication, mentions of his hardships, he wants to protect reader from his life but to a fault, arguments, he shows up injured one night and you tend to his wounds YUPPPP, mention of insecurities, reader lowkey needs new friends), smut (keeping quiet, dry humping, oral f receiving, sub!jiyong, p in v, reader gives jiyong a pair of her panties,) and inevitable typos.

requested? no, this is an original idea! its certainly is a 180 from the last jiyong fic i posted, but what is creativity without ambition! so here goes nothing! this is long. enjoy :)

the time on jiyong's watch read 9:13 pm, his eyes drifting to the summer night sky above. it was hot as fuck. the street lamp's fluorescent lighting flickered, making him blink increasingly harder, distracting him from properly inhaling the lit cigarette between his lips—unceremoniously landing a bead of sweat initially perspiring from his temple into his eye. "shit." his mutter disappeared into the commotion of whatever his friends were going back and forth over. last he checked, it was something about someone's car, or some movie, but the other side of his brain just processed technotronic coming from the house the party they were all invited to tonight was in. jiyong took his cigarette between his pointer and middle fingers, using his other hand to rub his bothered eye. neither of his friends took notice, enwrapped in conversation, taking drags of the cigarettes they bummed off jiyong after parking the car some ten minutes ago. a long, defeated breath deflated his chest. "hot as shit, bro—god damn." that earned him concurring nods, their gazes following him to the house peeking over the wooden fence behind them. jiyong wiped his forehead, kissing his teeth disapprovingly; the back of his hand glistened with sweat. he took one last drag of his cigarette, dropping it onto the sidewalk and putting it out with his sneaker. "place better have some fucking ac," he said, turning to his friends. "you ready to head in? alright, lets go."

to his joy, there was air conditioning! and not many people were in the house, so he could actually feel it! hallelujah! he sunk into the couch like it was nobody's business after making himself a drink, laying his head back, letting the rum and coke glide down his throat with a satisfied huff. he mouthed the few lyrics he knew to the music playing from the backyard, trailing into the house from the partially-open sliding door. jiyong's eyes opened at the sound of loud footsteps clambering down the stairs, catching glimpses of a friend group walking down the hall leading through the kitchen and into the backyard. he planned on joining whatever was going on out there later in the night—his friends did so immediately after getting their drinks—but for now, he minded his own. he liked parties, and went to most that he was invited to—unless his father had something to say about it, of course—but his social battery didn't sustain for long. he liked the quiet, or at least as quiet as it could get; settling with himself for the time being.

a while after finishing his drink, he went searching for a bathroom. the one on the first floor was occupied, so he headed upstairs; he's been here before, specifically the barbecue that happened a few weeks ago to usher in summertime. it felt humid upstairs with the window behind the landing wide open, laughter from below mixing in with the speaker sounding like it was on its last breath every time the bass kicked in. just as jiyong raised his knuckles to knock, the door swung open, catching him off guard but startling you entirely. "oh my god." you placed a hand over your heart, eyes closed. jiyong didn't know what to do in those passing couple seconds—his hand was still in the air. you smiled, amused at yourself. "didn't expect that," you muttered to yourself, opening your eyes. "my bad—here you go."

you stepped to the left to make room for him to enter and you exit, but he happened to step the same direction with similar intention. an upside down grin molded your face, hearing him awkwardly chuckle. "stay there." the sound of your warm giggle drizzled over his ears like honey, making him perk up and pay the fuck attention. jiyong's eyes followed you whilst you walked by his right. his feet moved before he knew it, his head looking away when you turned to look at him. in those three seconds, a whirlwind of thoughts ran through either of you. for jiyong, it was she's fine as hell; the image of you in your shirt and denim shorts lingering in his mind for as long as he wanted, topped by the sound of your clipped voice fading with each passing moment since he heard so little.

for you, it was the slight furrow of your eyebrows whilst you descended down the stairs: was that who she was talking about? you wondered—thinking back to the pregame at your friend's house earlier in the evening. rumors had floated around about ju . . . was it—no, its ji. jiyong? yeah, that—about jiyong's family, more-so his father, but no one ever had the gall to ask him. did they just not want to be caught in their own bluff, or afraid of unleashing a weapon-bearing fight if they properly dared mention it to him? no one knows, nor was willing to attempt. your city wasn't necessarily small, but it also wasn't large enough for anyone to fall through the cracks. you could pinpoint countless times throughout the years where you overheard speculations of his family's true source of income whilst in line at the local donut shop on sunday mornings, or his supposed home life becoming the topic of discussion at the sleepover once the clock hit two in the morning—but actually coming across him? perhaps a few times at the grocery store, fleetingly at parties, seeing him walking up the block with his friends, or in his car waiting for the traffic light to turn green—like any other neighbor.

you tsked to yourself, remembering something else from the pregame: "i heard he's been getting a lot of tattoos lately." a friend said after someone else brought up the rumor he'd be at the same party you were all going to, pouring the group shots—nothing was left in the house after scrounging the last few pours of cuervo tequila, so you all made due with the singular zima found in the fridge. you never liked the beer alternative, so on top of holding your miniature glass with a slight grimace, her baseless observation just deepened it: "you think that has anything to do with . . . you know . . . his family?" what did that have to do with anything? people have tattoos for whatever reasons . . . not to fit some aimless narrative. now that the anecdote came back, you do remember seeing a pair of detailed wings tattooed on the back of his neck—so he had to be the, for lack of a better term, infamous jiyong. unless there was someone else with the same name? you thought, until you realized how stupid you sounded. that was him, and that was it.

jiyong made his way outside, shouting over the music for his friends to hear him. it was relatively crowded. partygoers were dispersed all throughout the yard—some roasting s'mores by the small fire pit on the corner of the tiled pavement leading into the grass, others bickering over the party mixtape, and many either cheersing or throwing out their red solo cups for new ones. jiyong spotted you on the other side of the yard, talking to a friend whilst sat in the patio swing. his attention left his own friends, inner monologue drowning them out: move, motherfucker. that person must have heard him via some inter-dimensional force. though he couldn't overhear, your friend excused herself to get some snacks from the kitchen, leaving you temporarily on your own—but not if he had anything to say about it. he left his friends wordlessly mid conversation, making his way over. jiyong didn't think ahead much and acted more-so on autopilot, nearly stopping in his tracks when you looked up from your seat.

"did you wanna sit here?" the nicety slipped out before you could stop yourself, gesturing to the empty seat, halfway to standing on your feet. "i can move." "no, its okay." jiyong shook his head. it clicked for you: oh wow. its him, again. "i can—i'll just. . ." jiyong cut himself off by sitting down. it took a moment for you to process what was happening. "oh," an upside down grin tugged at your mouth. "alright." you sat down, inadvertently copying the direction of his gaze watching the party before you, lingering in one another's peripheries. your friend returned outside, equipped with a small plastic bowl of mini pretzels and potato chips, nearly dropping it upon seeing who took her spot. she scurried to the other side of the yard as fast as her flip flops would let her, grabbing the shoulder of whomever in your friend group that was in her nearest reach; scrambling to find the words, only able to point hurriedly in your direction.

whilst their mouths fell agape, yours remained closed. you glanced at him from the side, fingers toying with the bottom hem of your shirt. jiyong crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes remaining ahead; unsure of what to say but sure of his decision to come to you. albeit . . . he felt a little stupid. he was usually quite smooth with it, and if he was awkward, there was an indescribable charm coupled with it. he wasn't necessarily at a loss for words (at least that's what he told himself,) but it was one of those times where he acted before thinking it through—hence the silence. you turned your head fully to look at him. "is there something you wanted to bring up?" "hm?" he was caught off guard, turning his head towards you. jiyong jutted his bottom lip, shaking his head. "no. why?" you shrugged your shoulders. "people don't usually follow the person they ran into in the bathroom, let alone sit next to them." "i didn't follow you." jiyong countered. "we're at the same party." "okay. you tracked me down, then." "tracked you down?" his furrowed eyebrows amused you, seeing him fall into your unserious trap. "what're you talking about? we're at the same party." he repeated, a little defensive.

you shrugged your shoulders again. "i don't know. seems kind of fishy." "what does?" "this." "how? i'm just sitting here." "next to someone you don't know." "so?" "people don't just do that. even when they're at the same party." "they do." jiyong wanted to win. win what? he didn't know. "they do when they're—when they're . . ." he cut himself off, growing embarrassed. "when they're what?" you asked. jiyong swallowed, adjusting his posture. "when—when they're. . ." he hated that he started to build a sweat, and the humid night air wasn't to blame. "when the other person's really, uh—really pretty." you looked at him. he didn't dare look at you. a big smile unraveled across your face. "all of that," you said. "just for you to be cheesy as fuck." jiyong didn't expect to laugh as hard as he did, let alone his hand that shot up to his mouth, clutching his lips to hold it on—until he glanced at you and caught your eyes on him, the both of you losing it.

"oh god." jiyong hid his face behind his palms. "was it really that bad?" he asked, opening a gap between his pointer and middle fingers, peering up at you. "don't try to save face with that cute shit." you dismissed. "you think i'm cute?" his hands slid back down, a knowing smile on his face. "that's—that's not what i was trying to—" you stumbled on your words. he nodded along, eyebrows slightly furrowed in faux-thought. "oh, okay," he barely hid his grin; now we're back on track, he thought to himself. "what were you trying to say, then? hm?" "go away." you told him, turning away, arms crossed over your chest whilst his eyes stayed on you. "if really you don't like it, you can get up yourself." "no, because i asked you first. and you're the one who came over here." "i don't see you leaving." jiyong said. you let out a breath, admittedly defeated. a small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, turning into a full-blown smile when seeing your hand make a talking gesture—the same one waving him off with a small scoff.

jiyong noticed how you both sat with your arms over your chest, finding it endearing. his eyes fell to his knee, mere centimeters away from yours. if only i just sat a little closer. "you're funny." he said, eyes on your knee. "i like that." your hand slipped from underneath your arm, coming up to fan your face. "did you hear me ask what you liked?" this bickering feels like we've been married for decades, his inner monologue voiced. jiyong leaned towards you a little, his movement earning your eyes. "i like a challenge." his voice was smooth, getting his edge back. until you humbled him in a way eliciting whiplash: "that didn't land in the way you thought it would." jiyong let out a breath, eyes closing as he sat back in defeat. "you have me spent." "you've barely tried." you retorted, an upside down grin on your face as you looked down at your lap.

jiyong's eyes opened, sitting up, stretching his arm out before him. "i came all the way over here to talk to you!" he exclaimed, defending himself. "i've been trying!" "so you didn't just come here to rest that pretty head of yours?" your flirting flew right past his senses, jiyong prioritizing the bickering: "this is going nowhere." he crossed his arms over his chest begrudgingly. "it is," you corrected him. "you're just being dramatic for no reason." "i'm not being—" he was about to argue, until your words sunk into his psyche. "oh—it is?" you nodded, cheeks warming, pad of your ring finger wiping the built-up sweat off the side of your nose. it took a moment before jiyong said something: "what worked?" he asked. you shrugged your shoulders yet again, pondering in thought, though you had the answer. "you're funny." jiyong tsked, hiding his sheepish grin by turning his head the opposite direction. "it was fuckin' stupid when i said that." he said, still loud enough for you to hear over the music playing some twenty or so feet away. "it wasn't." you said. "it was cute."

jiyong looked at you; ego boosted, but his smile and raised eyebrow reflected his heart doubling in size. "so you do think i'm cute?" "i owe you after you admitted you came over here to talk to me. even if it was apparent from the beginning." that last part was half-bluff—you weren't completely sure, a bit taken aback when he first approached and sat down. you didn't know where this was going to go, but when it did take off, you would be remised not to have some fun. jiyong was sweet; quickly introducing himself as a witty conversationalist whom both matched your energy and kept you on your toes. his banter was fruitful and his clever use of profanity even more so—like the anecdote of when some guy gave him senseless trouble outside of his cousin's birthday dinner a couple years ago: "i told him that i am indeed the type. the fuck i was, the fuck i am, the fuck i will be." "i can't lie, jiyong. you curse pretty good." or when you told him about the argument that broke out between your friends over what movie to rent from blockbuster last weekend: "its not my fault that i didn't want to waste my time when i've been begging to what feels like a brick wall for months to see angelina jolie in 'gia.' i'm not sorry." "fuck no—and you shouldn't be."

jiyong looked like any other twenty something year old—hiding awkward tendencies behind a charming yet nervous chuckle, or going off on an unbridged tangent about a tv show he likes because he wants to fill the silence; keeping a pretty girl like you tethered to him by any means he could think of. but if anyone looked close enough (and you did, because he was fine), they would find something off about his ensemble of a loose-fitting graphic tee, scuffed sneakers, and basketball shorts paired with hair that looked fresh despite his dried sweat; side taper half-hidden underneath the hair that fell so effortlessly into his comma cut—a little too fresh. or perhaps the most perplexing clue of all: the two-toned watch that fell up and down his wrist whenever he moved his arm. you didn't know much about being rich, or differentiating fake luxury items from the real deal, but how the band of the watch molded against his wrist like it was part of him, and the dial that stared you down whenever he fixed his hair, told you he didn't mess around.

his eyes softened whenever your hand came up to fan your face or swat away gnats, noticing the slight sheen glazing your nose and forehead with a small grin on his face. you looked beautiful. the fact that you gave him the time of day was attractive enough—you didn't need to go out of your way to re-adjust your posture, making your plush thighs rub against the swing's cushioned seats in a way that stole his common sense, or your laughter making his eyes kiss in their corners, his right hand gripping the arm rest to keep his balance. jiyong didn't keep track of the time, so when his friends came over—one who perhaps had one too many, and the other with his arm slung around his shoulders—saying it was a good time to get out of there, he thought quickly on his feet: "its all good, man. i'll—i'll meet you at the car in, like, five minutes."

jiyong stood up, you mimicking his movements without thinking. "do you have a mobile?" he asked you. "no," you shook your head with an iota of irrational shame. "was—was never able to afford one." you let out a nervous chuckle, shaking your head. "its all good." jiyong assured. "whats your home phone? i'll call you." your eyes widened, shaking your head with an added sense of urgency: "my—my parents would never." "oh, okay. i got you." he nodded, understanding. the grin on his face was knowing and a bit cocky, taking a step closer to you. "what should we do then, hm? i'm not leaving here without an answer, y'know." "what about your friend?" "don't worry about him." jiyong said softly, subtly shaking his head. "he could hurl all over the street—like i give a fuck. i'm only here for you." you tsked, looking away to thwart the flustered feeling creeping up your neck. jiyong put his hands in his pockets, grinning when you spoke: "you really need to stop with this cute shit, jiyong." "i don't see you walking away, now do i?" he quipped, chuckling when you nudged his shoulder. he liked this feeling. "cmon," he gestured with his head. "i know you got something. tell me."

you looked at him after a moment. "you're lucky i have the day off tomorrow." "i do consider myself the richest man in the world." "oh my god, fuck off!" your exclaim slipped into clipped laughter, in disbelief over his commitment to the bit. "i'll give you my home phone. but you can only call at specific times, and when i tell you to." "i'll make anything work for you." you scoffed, only deepening his upside down grin. "you're not getting any reactions out of me anymore." you said, only to stumble on your words when he jutted out his bottom lip. "come with—come to the kitchen. i'll find a napkin to write it down, or some shit." and call jiyong did—at noon, just like you told him after scribbling your number down with a bic pen on its last few drops of ink. it was about ten minutes after your parents left the apartment to make the weekly grocery run, strategically landing you at home to finish washing the dishes from breakfast. you dropped the sudsy pan into the sink without second thought when the phone rang, hastily wiping your rinsed hands on your shirt, dashing behind the counter and to the living room.

"hello?" "sorry i'm late—had to get away from my parents." jiyong laid more comfortably in his bed, foot shoving a stray sock off his comforter; the rustling transferring from his nokia. you looked over your shoulder at the analog clock hanging next to a framed family photo, seeing it was barely past 12:01. "you're actually quite punctual." you told him. "you sound surprised." he said. "can you blame me? you're a man." "not just any man—" "—its only been, like, ten seconds," you cut him off, sitting down on the couch. "don't make me already contemplate hanging up." jiyong smiled wide. "you're sharp." he said. "i like that." "in the twelve hours that we've known each other, i don't think i've ever asked what you like. and i don't plan on it." "i think you're just going to have to suck it the fuck up, because i like you." he let out a satisfied huff hearing you scoff. "plus, i think we've known each other for more than twelve hours. i've seen you before. the grocery store, maybe? i knew you looked familiar—think i finally placed you." he tried to play it cool, though he knew the answer.

"most likely, yeah." you nodded despite him not being able to see, your other hand twirling the phone cord between your fingers. did he think about me last night? "i've been working there part-time for a while. its been hard finding a full-time gig, as embarrassing as it feels to be two years post-grad." "i don't think you should feel bad. its hard out here." said jiyong, sincerity coming through the grainy audio. "i mean, i went to columbia, but you don't see me in a suit with a briefcase and shit." "hold on," you waved your hand. "you can't just be the most random person i've ever met." "what do you mean?" "i went to a nobody-knows community college that i'm sure will be caught in a class action lawsuit for money laundering in ten years time, but i'm just sat here talking to a scholar?" jiyong chuckled, running his hand over his warming face. "i'm not a scholar, i'll tell you that much." he toyed with a loose thread on his comforter—memories of his father repeatedly reeling how much he poured into his spot at the university flashing in his head, beckoned away with a small, defiant flick of his head.

you brought him back down to earth: "i'm gonna go get my thesaurus." he kissed his teeth disapprovingly, pout evident in his voice. "like the fuck you are. stay on the phone." he panicked slightly at the prolonged (it was five seconds) silence from your end of the line. "please?" you grinned. "you're really cheesy." you teased. "how is talking to a fine ass woman fuckin' cheesy?" "you can't just say shit like that casually, jiyong." "well, i will. hear me loud and clear." he cleared his throat into the receiver, catching you off guard, holding back your laughter. "you're fine as hell. do i need to keep saying it?" "maybe." "are you free for dinner tonight? i'll tell you in person." "maybe." "what'll convince you?" you said the first thing you thought of: "if you wear that watch of yours again." jiyong smiled, bottom lip caught between his teeth. "you like the finer things in life. don't you, baby?" he said smoothly. your cheeks felt warmer by the second, unsure of what you just started. "its hard to take you seriously when i can hear that smug grin on your face." you responded, voice akin to velvet despite the crackles over the line. "you already know me so well." jiyong's fingers toyed with the drawstring of his sweatpants. "m'starting to think we're meant to be. that doesn't sound corny, does it?"

"i'm relieved you're able to pinpoint that yourself now." you heard him chuckle. "and, no. it doesn't for once. you can be sweet when you want to be." "i can be good." he told you earnestly. "i can be really good, you know." "i believe you." you told him. "i hear it in your voice." a beat went by. "you know," said jiyong. "i didn't think you were capable of being nice." "don't be a dumbass right now, jiyong. this was such a good moment." you couldn't stop the grin stretching your mouth hearing him burst into laughter. "you're goofy as fuck, boy. oh my goodness." you giggled, running a hand over your face. "okay—okay, stop laughing. do you know where we're going for dinner? because i've long thought of what i'm going to say to get out tonight." jiyong got serious real quick. "oh shit—damn, okay. let me think." he cleared his throat. "there's this—there's this place i know by the rec center that has really good subs. does that sound—" "—fine by me." you didn't give a fuck what you ate. you just wanted to see him. "okay. okay, cool." jiyong nodded, licking his lips in thought. "you wanna meet there? or i could—i could come pick you up, if thats okay. i know we just met and all. and your parents might not be the most . . ." you waited for his choice of word. he didn't disappoint. "enthusiastic."

you let out a laugh. "you're right." you said. "you can pick me up from one block over." "whatever works for you works for me." "i can't lie to you, jiyong," you said. he hasn't sure where this was going. "but i really like the sound of that." jiyong took his ear off his phone, turning his head the opposite direction on his pillow, silently screaming into his palm. i hit the jackpot! i hit the fucking jackpot! his inner monologue rejoiced. he quickly brought the phone back to his ear: "you do?" "mhm." the sound of your voice made him kick at nothing, covering his face from no one. "i do, jiyong." "oh my god." he muttered. "i think i love you." you scoffed, unable to thwart your grin or increasingly flustered state. "what's my favorite fucking color, jiyong?" "i still think i love you," he avoided the question. "i'll know by the end of tonight, anyway." "i don't even want to ask if you're referring to my favorite color or whether you love me because you're starting to get on my nerves." "is it the right one?" "jiyong." "at least tell me if its the right one. look, i'll be honest and tell you that i'm just really happy i sat next to you last night." a moment went by before you spoke. "i am too." you said honestly. "and yes. it was the right nerve." jiyong buried himself behind his palm. "tell me where i should pick you up from. i can be there at seven."

it wasn't long before you started sneaking him in. up the fire escape that conveniently lead into your bedroom on the second floor of the apartment building you've lived in your entire life—it was a no brainer. it also wasn't long before jiyong got you a pager and mobile phone to go with it. to use at your own leisure, of course, but also already programmed with speed dial: "just press eight and i'll pick up anytime." "anytime?" "anytime, baby." "even when you're on the shitter?" "now that you mention it, yes. even when i'm on the shitter." jiyong came at ten pm on the dot on nights you gave him the green light. those first few times, it often began with the two of you bickering in hushed whispers when he didn't lift his leg high enough to climb over the windowsill, losing his balance and leading his foot to come clambering down, echoing off the steel grates.

you looked at each other in silent panic, his eyes dashing to your door behind you; both listening for footsteps, his shoulders sinking in relief when nothing followed, only to straighten back up when you smacked his shoulder. "get it the fuck together!" you whisper-yelled. "do you want my parents to wake up!?" "alright, alright—damn!" jiyong tsked, clearly annoyed, but his voice remained quiet. "its not my fault the developer built this shit higher than a fucking city skyscraper!" "use your nimble legs, they usually get you far enough." "i don't have nimble—" "—its a compliment, jiyong." "i don't have time for fuckin' riddles. give me your shoulder—it'll help me balance." he beckoned you over, hearing you huff. you stepped forward, feeling his palm secure your left shoulder. you leaned in as he prepared to attempt to climb in again, hand on his other cheek, bringing his closest to your lips. "you whiny baby." you whispered. "you making fun of me isn't helping either of us." "that wasn't me making fun of you." "you know what—i can just head home." he gestured behind him. "my car is right across the street." you looked him in the eyes, waiting for a moment or two. "i don't see you leaving, jiyong." "well, i was just—" "—get inside before i close the window."

he watched you like you just did him. "right—goodnight." you reached up to pull the window down. jiyong scrambled; "wait, no—shit! wait!" he reached up and tousled his hands with yours, either of your fingers clumped together. his face was directly in front of yours, looking into your eyes. a small, please-forgive-me grin stretched his mouth. "you look really pretty." he whispered sweetly. "just shut up and get inside." you stepped aside, feeling his hand on your shoulder. he climbed in successfully, arms making residence around your waist in no time, bringing you in for a kiss. "you're lucky i like you." he whispered hurriedly with intent, quickly reconnecting your lips. "excuse me?" you felt him giggle against your lips. "its—its the other way around. have to deal with your goofy shit all the time." "but you like it, right? because you like me." his arms pulled you closer to him, your supple cheek squishing against his lips. "right?" he kissed harder, your failed attempt at acting annoyed manifesting in a curt tsk. jiyong was in his own world: "right, my pretty girl?" "i wanna say no just to fuck with you." jiyong abruptly stopped, sinking his face into your neck. "i like hugging you." he murmured. "i think you just like annoying me." his giggle was your answer, feeling a chaste kiss pressed dotingly onto your neck when your hands traveled up his back and into his hair. "you're a pain in the ass."

jiyong was someone who knew what he wanted. so when he asked to be official after your second date, you were surprised and even let out a small laugh, thinking he was playing—but he was dead serious: "you've known me for less than a week, jiyong." you said from his passenger's seat. his gaze left your apartment building a block down and returned to you, shrugging his shoulders. "i mean, sure—yeah." he concurred, wiping the sweat off his forehead. the mechanic still didn't fix his ac right. "but i'd say i've known you long enough to know that i want you." he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, because it was. why waste time, especially when you know the other person feels the same? warmth mounted your cheeks, averting your gaze to the center console. "can i think about it?" you asked. jiyong grinned, eyes momentarily watching your fingers glide against the leather lining of the console, avoiding the urge to hold your hand by tapping his own against the steering wheel. "yeah," he responded gently. "but i already kinda know what the answer is." "no you don't." you tried to quip, your quiet voice a giveaway. "did you not say yes to getting ice cream tomorrow? at the pier? maybe i misheard—" "—you didn't, ji."

he smiled. "good. thats good." he spoke softly. he faced you, eyes fluttering down before taking your hand in his. he brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss. he turned to your palm, mouth molding against the clammy skin before making his way down to your wrist. his eyes opened when your nerves acted before you could think, wordlessly calling him over to you when your palm now rested against his cheek. jiyong moved without an iota of hesitation, leaning over the center console. his eyes looked into yours with a look of can i?, voice unexpectedly barely moving a morsel above a whisper. "can i kiss—" "—yes. come here." he didn't need to be told twice, closing that gap damn near immediately. your hands held his face when he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss. his lips felt soft albeit somewhat chapped, molding against your lips in a way that made a shaky breath exit your nostrils; his hand trailing up your thigh.

"jesus—fuck." you were startled by someone lugging their garbage into the dumpster a few feet away from the car, a hand coming up to your chest as jiyong cursed under his breath. he looked over your shoulder, eyes narrowing at the unsuspecting stranger. his attention returned to you upon feeling your fingers toy with the collar of his graphic tee. jiyong leaned in, the chaste kiss sweet. "my answer's yes." you muttered against his lips. "that's news to no one, baby." his hand rested atop your thigh, thumb tracing your plush skin. "at least act surprised," you tutted, holding his face in your hands, amused at his lips being half-puckered; clearly expecting another kiss. "i have a reputation to uphold." he smiled, not hiding his chuckle, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. "what—for who?" you tried to come up with something witty, but each passing second prevented anything from landing correctly. you shrugged your shoulders, playfully defeated. "i can't lie to you—i've heard them say that in movies, and it always sounded really cool." he erupted into colorful laughter, his forehead falling to your shoulder. you caught him, unable to hold your own giggles back.

nights in your bedroom were spent underneath your duvet; recounting your days to each other in hushed whispers, making plans for future dates after swiping that day's newspaper from the kitchen counter—"'eyes wide shut' is still playing? seunghyun mentioned wanting to see it recently, i think. i think he went the other day." "tom cruise kind of freaks me out. what about 'but i'm a cheerleader,' tomorrow at 7:15? i heard its good fun.", giggling in between sweet kisses, or attempting to stay quiet if things got heated. whether it was you unbuttoning his jeans or his hand slipping past the hem of your underwear, either of your free hands was covering the other's mouth. jiyong's mewls were muffled behind your palm as your fist pumped his hardened cock— incessant ruffling of his briefs against your hand hidden behind the innocent creak of the bed when you turned onto your back to spread your thighs further, giving his thumb enough leverage to nurse your clit. his body followed your movements without hesitation, laying on his side, bottom lip caught between his teeth at how your t-shirt bunched up in the space between the bottom of your back and the top of your ass—breathing heavily into your palm.

it was easy to tuck him underneath your shirt when he made love to those perky nipples, relishing in the sound of your sharp breath after the chill of his watch band pressed against the warm, bouncy skin of your right breast, his tongue tending to the left. his ministrations were experienced, but how his hand trailed up and down your side, squeezing and rubbing your hip dotingly felt personal. or the way he hummed to himself in satisfaction from time to time, muttering whispers of "one and only," and "how can you be so fucking hot." he didn't give a fuck that his lips were begging for some vaseline, or that his jaw was feeling increasingly tighter—your breathy "jiyong, baby . . ." was all he needed to hear to keep going. even better if you arched your back, squishing his nose against your chest whilst his re-adjusting his posture stretches out the shirt you slept in. he moved to your right breast, encircling your areola before capturing it between his lips. he moved to lay atop you, waist between your thighs.

you felt his bulge against you. "you know whats f-f—mmph!—funny?" you whispered. "hm?" jiyong hummed. "you're in the perfect p-position t-to—s-shit—to f-fuck me if you wanted to." "don't put that idea into my head," jiyong whispered quickly, popping sotly off of your nipple. "you don't know how long i've been thinking about that." "there's no way we'd stay quiet enough, s-so forget 'b-bout it—least for now—shit!" your hand shot up, covering your mouth as the warmth of his tongue made your eyes roll back. "s-show me." it was hard to clarify with how scattered your mind was at the moment. "p-pretend to—i can feel you—j-ji, baby." you cut yourself off, thinking it was useless to try to compose yourself; thoughts coming out fragmented. he got the message, though—practically shoving of his cock caged in his briefs against your clothed pussy, moving his hips against yours. you let out a small gasp, back arching. jiyong collided his hips harshly with yours, feeling your thighs jiggle and a sound of surprise from your lips. "damn! go slow!" you exclaimed in a whisper, amused smile evident in your tone.

he did it again, eliciting a peculiar small grunt from his forcibly-muted efforts, amusing you further. "i get you that hot and bothered, huh?" "you have no fucking i-idea—f-fuck." he came to a halt, catching his breath, feeling how desperate his dick was between his fucking temples. "if you act up like this," you said. "then there's no way we can fuck here." "no—i'll behave myself." he hurriedly assured, making you grin. "i'll behave, baby. i will. holy fuck—its hot under here." jiyong carefully slid out from underneath your shirt, gradually standing on his knees on the bed. he let out a breath, wiping his cheeks and forehead with the back of his hand. "like i was saying," he let out a breath. "i'll behave—" "you're ridiculous." you cut him off. jiyong looked down at you, seeing you propped up on your elbows. "what?" "since when did you rival fedex?" "what?" he repeated, confused—until he followed your gaze; so hard, and with how the fabric of his briefs looked, it was as if his dick doubled in size.

he bit at corner of his bottom lip, hands on his hips. "i mean—" he began. "you asked me to show you, so here you go." you tsked, raising your leg, nudging his shoulder with the ball of your right foot. he caught your ankle, pressing a kiss before letting your leg go. you propped your feet against the bed, knees together in the air. "nah—open 'em." he tutted softly. "gonna have a taste before i leave. make you feel real fuckin' good." and he fucking did—face sunken into your cunt, his tongue going back and forth between nursing your clit and hole; hands atop your thighs, holding them in place. he heard your whimpers, as muffled as they were, even through the erratic meshing of your plush skin against his ears. your other hand sunk into his hair before having to use both to cover your mouth once that knot began to form in your abdomen. "j-jiyong!" your ghost of a whisper penetrated his senses. his response manifested in one arm slung over your stomach, his other hand trailing past your stretch marks, reaching for the closest breast and kneading it in his palm; humming in content against your slick pussy.

you and jiyong lived in your own world those first few months. neither of your respective friends knew—not because it was hidden on purpose or anything, but jiyong was too busy running red lights to come see you, and you were occupied with thinking of a slick way to end a phone call after hearing the pager beep in your nightside table drawer. though there wasn't verbal confirmation until later, there were definite signs: a particularly blunt friend pointing something out when you got to lunch ten minutes late ("there's something different about you, but i can't place it—" "—she smells like sex. also has the glow." "hey! no i don't!"); jiyong thinking his bucket hat would deter attention from the mostly-faded-but-still-noticeable hickey on his neck, only for seunghyun to point it out the moment he got in his car to head to the mall ("that goofy hat isn't doing shit." "she calls me that, too." "it takes nothing to get everything out of you, ji."); when you were too quick to leave a night out, saying you'd take public transit home, ultimately leading you to be cornered by the same friend, strategically pulled you into her car away from the others ("be for real. are you seeing someone?" "we're still—" "—okay, so you are. who is it? don't tell me its that co-worker that ate the—what was it? expired tuna? willingly?" "i'm offended that you think i would ever consider that. we met at a party, anyway—" "jiyong!? oh my god! oh my god!" "how did you—" "—i saw you two on that swing, but i didn't think—oh my god! tell me everything!" "only if you let me get a fucking word in—holy shit!"); to jiyong straight up telling seunghyun "i can't tonight, man. m'seeing my girl." to which his best friend responded "she rang me up the other day at the market, but i don't think she knew who i was. you need to fix that."

things took a turn the night your parents were out at a co-worker's wedding. they left at eight, not expected to be back until well past midnight. jiyong was in your bedroom no later than 8:10, shoes kicked off, hand comfortably behind his head, slumped against the pillow next to yours in bed. perhaps it was the fact you two were truly alone for the first time with your parents gone and window closed—for once not at the ready to dash out if footsteps erupted down the hall—that the conversation trickled elsewhere. something about these last few months was just something different for jiyong . . . he felt connected. safe. most importantly, trusted. you felt cared for, desired, and seen. it showed in those lingering stares; the air just feeling right whenever you two are together; his hand ghosting past yours before working up the courage to hold it in a way that always granted him that shy grin of yours; your cheeks brushing against one another's when you're looking at the same thing . . . the list was endless. something just—it just clicked. the question of are we moving too quickly? pestered at the back of either of your minds . . . but one look, and the puzzle was completed. the answer clear. any doubts eradicated.

trust was in bloom, and so was his willingness to be vulnerable. when it occurred, you shut the fuck up, putting your own shock aside: "my parents have never been the type—nah." jiyong chuckled. it was after some anecdote you brought up from middle school about parent-teacher conferences—specifically how you were outed for having a failing grade in chemistry. "my mom went to those things, but my dad—its like you'd have to drag him there. he was always busy, or some shit." you hummed, reaching over and softly grazing your finger against his forehead, fixing a fallen strand. it wasn't intended, but jiyong took the gentle gesture as a means of saying you can tell me anything. his eyes flickered to the linen before fully turning onto his side, directly facing you. he avoided the stirring turmoil in his chest, bringing his pointer finger to your bottom lip, pulling it down and letting go; chuckling at the small plop it made against your top lip, endeared by your playful scoff.

"listen, uh—" he began. "i know people—people talk. about my . . . about my family, or whatever. about my dad, specifically." he rubbed his eye, avoiding looking at you. "he does work, uh . . . he does work—he works underground—" "—jiyong, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." you told him, seeing the strain on his face. "no," he shook his head. "i want to. i mean—if i can find the fucking words." he let out a curt chuckle, frustrated with himself. he took a breath, still not looking at your eyes, but the bottom hem of your shirt. "i guess i—" he huffed. "i guess i always kinda knew something was different. like, my 'uncles' weren't my uncles. well, two of them are. but most aren't." you listened carefully, cheek rubbing against the pillowcase when you nodded. "it was a feeling, i guess? and then in sixth grade it was like . . . my frontal lobe developed. that's real fucking early, i know, but i don't know how else to describe it. everything just—it just made sense."

jiyong finally looked up. your expression was unreadable, but you didn't look scared. or intimidated. so that was a good sign. "i'm just jiyong." he spoke softly. he wasn't sure why he said that but something in him compelled him to do so. his hair ruffled against the pillow, subtly shaking his head. "i don't do any of that. i'm set straight—normal." for the most part, his inner monologue voiced. you scooted closer, the tip of your nose brushing against his. your brought your hand up, pad of your thumb tracing his stubble. he watched you with a glint in his eyes; entranced. "no one's interrogating you." you whispered, a smile stretching your mouth, seeing him visibly relax. he let out a long breath, forehead falling onto yours, eyes fluttering closed. "and you are just jiyong." you told him, hand reaching behind him, coaxing tenderly up and down his back. "well, my jiyong. specifically speaking." "you got that right." he kissed your cheek, nestling into your chest, arms slung around your waist. you held him without hesitation, quickly combing his hair back with your fingers as it tickled your chin. jiyong closed his eyes, letting something else slip out: "you make my life feel normal." he muttered, hidden in your warmth. "you make my life a lot more interesting." you told him, the vibrations of your chuckle making him hold you tighter.

a couple hours later, he was out of your bed, stood in front of your rotating fan perched beside your dresser. "you'd think it wouldn't be still hot as shit in damn near october." jiyong muttered, quickly leaning down once the fan turned him way, flushed cheeks momentarily relieved. "i know." you concurred, left in nothing but a shirt and underwear; laid on your side in bed, head propped up by your hand. jiyong huffed when the fan turned away, tugging at the collar of his shirt and pulling it over his head, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the fabric. you quickly looked away when he turned around, sitting on the edge of the bed. the unintended brewing silence caught his attention, turning his head to look at you. "this is the longest you've gone without talking since we started dating." "shut up, ji." he grinned, leaning down, bringing his lips to yours.

"you've seen me like this before. why so shy now, hm?" he murmured against your mouth; the kiss slow, deliberate. "s'cause you're fine." you mumbled. "s'my line, baby." you stopped the kiss, lips hovering above his. "you're so cheesy sometimes that it hurts, jiyong." he laughed against your mouth. "but you like it. i know you do." he said between kisses. his hand reached your hip, sliding down your thigh until his fingers tried to nestle between them. you opened your thighs enough to let his hand in, closing them around his wrist. he cupped and palmed your clothed pussy as best he could, kissing you a bit harder. "i know my girl likes it when i'm half fucking naked." he whispered. his eyes opened when the kiss ceased, feeling your quiet breaths brush against his mouth. you perched your left foot atop the bed, effectively separating your thighs, allowing jiyong to feel your puffy lips underneath the fabric of your underwear. "look at her. so good f'me, so ready." he praised, glancing down as his hand tucked into the hem, sinking his middle finger between your puffy lips. he moved it side to side, watching you as a small gasp left your mouth. you adjusted your hips—to your fortune, the move aligned the pad of his finger to your clit, making you shudder, fighting rolling your eyes back by squeezing them shut.

aimlessly, your hand pawed at his bare chest. "j-ji—kiss me." he leaned in, the side of his nose aligning with yours. "don't ever need to ask," he murmured. "jus' do it." he kissed you repeatedly, going slower when you moaned into his mouth; it was the way you liked it—purposeful and fucking sensual. you both were present and so fucking crazy for each other that it could suffocate any room . . . and it was beginning to be your own. "both of your lips are so soft against my mouth, baby," he muttered atop your mouth, adding his tongue to the mix. "y'know i have dreams of eating that pussy, right? can't get enough of it—" "—j-jiyong!" you gasped, holding onto the back of his neck when the pad of his finger fastened its speed. "should i do it now? hm? should i eat this sweet pussy—make love to your fucking clit before i fuck it? yeah?" that latter was his usual dirty talk that got you the fuck going, putting the idea into your head before giving you brain that had yours malfunctioning. it felt so risky with your parents down the hall, so you never did it until—wait.

"j-ji—jiyong. stop—wait." you reached down, fingers wrapping around his wrist. he halted his ministrations, looking at you. "c-can't—can't think." you breathed heavily. "what's up? everything okay?" he asked, lips finding your temple. his finger left its spot between your puffy lips, palm resting against you. "do you—" your mind was scrambled. "do you have a condom? i want you. tonight." there was a small gap between his lips—until it clicked in his head. "right. right—" he nodded, reaching into his pocket and opening his wallet. if he thought he was flustered before, his cheeks were on fire now. the one fucking time—his inner monologue cursed. "shit—i don't have any." "go get some." "one step ahead of you." his hand slipped out of your underwear, sucking briefly on his middle finger before grabbing his shirt from the floor, shoving his feet into his shoes. "won't be longer than ten fucking minutes. i swear." he told you, leaning down and kissing your lips. "just—just stay horny." jiyong said a little awkwardly before climbing out the window. his own libido clouded his senses, dizzying his temples as he descended down the stairs and climbed down the short ladder. "will do." you muttered to yourself, chuckling.

your bed creaked as loud and incessantly as either you or jiyong willed it to. once he was in and you were adjusted ("how's it feel, baby? feel okay?" "y-yeah. just—just hold me, ji."), he fucked you right and good. you felt like everything he dreamed of and more—all those nights he lulled himself to sleep tracing the linen back and forth with his palm, imagining it was your hips; balling the fabric in his fist as he showed himself no mercy with the other, dreaming of what you might sound like around him. "f-feel good with me, baby. c-c'mon." he'd whisper to himself in the confines of his bedroom—panting it next to your ear whilst his hips rammed into yours. you felt as if you achieved your final form: arms above your head in bliss, shirt pushed up to your neck whilst your tits bounced intermittently, your fine ass man between your legs; fucking you with such tenderness coupled with carnal desire, stretching you out in a way you didn't know you needed or was possible, quite frankly. jiyong took his time to memorize your body: all the divots and crevices poetically curated by your cellulite, the uneven lines of your stretch marks, how the rolls adorning your hips jiggled differently than those on your stomach. his hips stuttered, vulnerable moan escaping his lungs when your thighs wrapped around his waist as best you could in your horned-out haze, pleading "more, jiyongie—m-more. want it harder," so beautifully. he leaned down, both of your heavy breaths meshing together as he adjusted his balance on his knees, rutting into you harder than before. all mine, he thought to himself, eyebrows curling upward at the sound of your indescribable moan, how fucking lucky am i?

the only problem was once you started . . . you couldn't stop. this newly-emerged can of worms was barely contained when your parents were once again just down the hall—but ambition was nothing without strategy. you two mapped out the least-noisy parts of your bed and acted accordingly: if jiyong's behind you, he's on his feet whilst your elbows propped you up on your bedside, your feet on the carpeted floors as his pelvis pounded your globes (nearly popping a vein trying to keep quiet in the process); if you were on top, strangely enough the top middle of your bed worked well, but jiyong couldn't change how he sat once he settled; or the one time you fucked on the floor because you really wanted to try the position whilst laid on your sides, but the bed would be too nosy. you swore to never do it again after waking up with a migraine and stuffy nose from the air conditioning blowing directly onto your head.

at some point, you couldn't take it anymore. it was after the thanksgiving holiday—the early hours of black friday, to be specific. whilst your friends were hitting the mall, jiyong was hitting it from the back. he drowned himself in your duvet trying to keep his whimpers at bay, your own palm suffering under the pressure of your mouth. when you finished, he kept his balance by gripping your left globe, squeezing it to thwart the urge to smack it silly. drool threatened to leak out the corner of his mouth, swiping it with the back of his other hand before pulling the condom off. a thin string connected your palm and your mouth, that same hand going into his hair without thinking upon feeling his lips against your cheek. "i love you so much." he whispered, hand tenderly rubbing your hip. "l-love you too. can't keep—" you swallowed, mouth dry. "can't keep being quiet. s'too hard." "i know. i feel the same." "help me—help me stand up, jiyongie." "i got you. c'mere, baby."

you were on the brink two weeks later. swiveling your hips, his hands holding your waist and lower back in place, swallowing his mewls and whimpers with your connected lips. jiyong was so needy—cut fingernails clawing at your bare back, faint whispers of "keep fucking me. keep f-fucking me just like that—hngh!" against your mouth, hastily re-connecting the kiss to muffle his verbose libido. he was more whiny than usual that night—this being the first time you've seen each other in a while from misaligned free time and abrupt family plans. it showed. "oh f-fuck yeah, baby—" his whisper was so faint and high he sounded as if he was depleted of oxygen. the way his face was scrunched up—mouth hung open, eyes shut, eyebrows knit deeply together—didn't help. "k-keep fucking me—keep fucking jiyongie just like that. y-yeah! fuck—" your mixed slick combined with the lubricated condom made his dick slip out of you a few times, permitting a breather, but not for long. your knees burned and you felt dizzy, but his cock was fucking addicting. it was all for you and no one fucking else's. his pathetic fucking whines merely scratched the surface of attesting to that—how about him chanting your name like a goddamn prayer? catching him grinding into the duvet when he's eating you out? begging for mercy with that fucking quiver, only to stutter a million thank yous once that euphoric wave hits? it was endless. he was yours. you'd take that tylenol and hydrate later—for now, it was just you and him. no one else existed in your shared world.

your gummy walls clenched around him, sending him into an untamable orbit. "a-agh!" he whined aloud, sucking in a breath with your hand covered his mouth with haste, his eyes widening. "you better stop moaning like a bitch." you whispered. his eyes were misty, subconsciously mourning the temporary loss of movement. "i c-can't help it, baby," he shook his head, shaking off your palm. "y-you feel so fucking good. m'so fucking turned on right now—you have no idea, holy s-shit." both of his arms wrapped around your waist, pressing kisses onto your bare chest. "i'll be good. i'll—i'll behave, baby." he whispered, looking up at you. his hand grabbed your right breast, eyes watching yours with a glint. "i'll be your good boy—your good jiyongie. look, i'll do this to keep quiet." his tongue encircled your nipple before taking it between his lips, lapping the peak repeatedly.

it was an effective method, considering when you started moving again, all that could be heard was the moderate, non-suspicious tinkering of your metal bed frame—but now your self-control was withering away. your fingers entangled in his hair, vibrations of his moans molding into your plush skin . . . you couldn't help yourself: "f-fuck!" you gasped, hand aimlessly grabbing onto the wall in front of you, nails scratching against the chipped paint. jiyong sucked diligently as if nothing happened. you attempted to squish this shit like a bug, needing your boyfriend to wake the fuck up: "cut that shit out, ji—ha-a!" you sucked in a breath. "i can't k-keep quiet." "if i don't have this, i'm going to wake up the entire neighborhood." he muttered. "not before we wake my fucking parents!" you whisper-yelled. you nudged the side of his head with a tsk, your nipple slipping out of his mouth with you leaned to your left, grabbing your shirt. "oh hell no—" jiyong realized what was happening, you cutting him off: "shut up." you tutted, putting your shirt on. "thats what you get."

you held either side of his face, kissing his lips sweetly. "i love it when you're like this." you felt him hum. "all desperate." "i know," jiyong answered, kissing you back. "you ride my shit into the sunset whenever i do." he chuckled when you turned away, clearly flustered. "come back here." he murmured gently, lips decorating your supple cheek. "but m'being honest. this is how you make me. s'fucking hard keeping quiet, baby." "i can't keep doing this, jiyong." you shook your head. "i'm going crazy." "i know, pretty girl, i know." he nodded, palms rubbing up and down your thighs. "my place isn't really an option, either." he shook his head, seeing you nod. you talked about this before. "always busy with some shit. but i'm gonna get us a room—its about time. so we can be loud as we want to, yeah? fuck good and hard?" "y-yes." you let out a shaky breath, slowly beginning to move your hips. "needed it, like, yesterday." "i'll book it first thing tomorrow." he whispered, bottom lip choked between his teeth. "just finish us off, baby," his voice was already an octave higher. "no one does it like you—ha-a—a—oh f-fuck!"

it was an interesting feeling, knowing you were going somewhere just to fuck your boyfriend. those car rides were either humorously quiet or overly conversational—the little white lies you told your parents at the back of your mind as you filed into jiyong's passenger's seat after your shift ended: "i'll be late tonight. its someone's birthday," "i'm picking up another shift," or his personal favorite "the girls and i are having a sleepover." ("am i one of the girls?" "in your dreams.") he swiped his card at the hotel receptionist's desk without a second thought; clothes on the floor and bed creaking less than an hour later. the nearby 24 hour mart was the go-to for condom and snack runs, or the neighboring strip mall where you went for dinner ("do you want to go re-fuel?" "'re-fuel' is crazy, jiyong.") or he'd pick up an order—styrofoam take-out containers sprawled out in bed, eating your burgers and curly fries with nothing but the thin hotel quilt atop either of you, talking about whatever as the local weatherman played on the box television.

"keep moving like that! holy shit! holy shit!" he cried out one night, fucking up into you as you slammed down onto him. his hands went back and forth between gripping the side of your thighs to smacking either of your plush globes; or laying his palms on your thighs, looking down as he both watched and felt them shake with each unrelenting thrust. "i love feeling this fucking j-jiggle," he sucked in a breath. "and gripping this shit." his hands squeezed your ass before kneading to your love handles, looking up at you upon hearing you moan. "have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are," his breathing was jagged, sweat perspiring across his forehead. "the fuck do y-you—hngh!—t-the fuck do you mean no one's ever wanted you this bad? huh? felt like i needed to start a prayer service when i met you, baby—f-fuck! oh my god—ha-a—a!" he whimpered, hips stuttering to a sudden halt after you clenched around him. you let out a breath, adjusting your knees, hands letting go of the headboard to opt for your arms wrapping around his shoulders. "thats it, thats it." he praised gently. "get comfortable f'me. for your jiyongie—your good jiyongie. there you go, baby." he found his face lost in your neck when he started moving again; fingers entangled in his hair, nails scratching against his tattoo. "o—oh! j-jiyong! oh f-fuck, b-baby—" you cut yourself off with a gasp, guttural moan following. you felt so free. "felt like i needed to start a prayer service when i met you, baby—f-fuck! oh fuck—yeah! yeah!" he was close, determined to finish his thought. "felt like i needed to go to church and t-thank g-god herself for bringing me t-to you—f-fuck!"

no part of the room was spared. godspeed to whomever was on the housekeeping shift that saturday morning after the stench you two left in that damn bathroom . . . meant to get in the shower at ten to make the eleven check-out time and also complementary weekend brunch . . . but its not your fault the both of you are fine as fuck! "like that! like that! m-more—more! f-fuck!" your voice bounced off the tiled walls; acoustics of the bathroom drilling your moans into his brain for his next however so many lives—not that he was complaining what-so-fucking-ever. your knee was atop the counter, stomach laying comfortably in the sink as your hands held onto the wall and mirror before you, being fucked delectably from behind. the plop of his heavy balls against you hardly rivaled the sound of the air vent, let alone how loud you were. "o-oh my god, baby! f-fuck—fuck me! fuck me just like that! a-ah!" your walls swallowed and spit him out whole, leaving nothing to the imagination with the condom covered in creamy slick. he was panicking a little, though, because all of his cock was in you. he didn't have anymore, so he just went harder.

it seemed to do the trick. his mouth fell open at the sound of your shaky "oh my fucking god!", glancing at the mirror and seeing an expression on your face that he thought only existed in his fantasies. "f-fuck!" he whimpered. "y-you're f-fucking tight—feels so f-fucking good—a-agh! jiyongie f-feels so good!" referring to himself in third person was a tell-tale sign he was pussy drunk, only making you more hornier, knocking over the hotel hand soap in your effort to fuck him back. damn—is my dick really that good? he wondered to himself, nearly stumbling in trying to regain his balance. it ended in you two making it on time to brunch—but with his t-shirt on inside out and backwards, and droplets of water adorning your hair, along with a sheer streak of body lotion on display whenever your lifted your arm to take a bite of your omelette, of course.

godspeed to whomever was next door, too, like that one time a couple took an overnight pitstop during their road trip. it was downhill for them starting at 11 pm that friday night. you were stroking jiyong's cock as he laid on your chest, his moans muffled by your mouth, but the boyfriend's eyebrows raised nonetheless as he got ready for bed. the girlfriend nudged his shoulder and gestured to the wall when you were getting your pussy ate, moans undeniable as jiyong's tongue made love to your clit, slurping you up like never before. she kept her laughter in, eyes widening humorously at the circumstance. the smile was swiped clean off of her face when jiyong started fucking you—grunts of fighting for power as your ass rammed his pelvis, mewls of pleasure, and whorish moans bleeding through the walls like it was made of paper. the couple stared at the ceiling in complete darkness, not a wink of sleep in sight for either of them. to top it all off, a phone kept ringing. until something went crashing down.

"who keeps—who keeps fuckin' calling—god damn!" they heard him curse when your mobile rang again. "m-must be one of the girls." you were out of breath, the ringtone dramatically deafening. "c-can you—can you get it? take out the battery or something. i can't reach—can't think straight, sick of the phone—hngh!" your thoughts came out fragmented, shutting up once jiyong leaned over to the bedside table; inadvertently shoving his cock deeper inside you. he slid the back off, picking the battery out and shoved everything onto the floor hastily. "thats fucking better—f-fuck!" you pushed into him, feeling him grip your hips and rut into you at breakneck speed. "y-yes! yes!" you cried. the girlfriend was fed up, but not with you: "why don't you fuck me like that?" she asked her boyfriend. "uh—" he stuttered. "she's—she's playing it up. clearly. i mean, who really sounds that dramatic? right?" he was overpowered by the sound of you calling jiyong's name so delicately that anyone could see what was really going on. the girlfriend huffed, turning away from him and onto her side, tugging the duvet. "that's what someone who doesn't know what they're doing would say." she muttered. "good-fucking-night."

its true: jiyong knew you like the back of his hand. no matter how he got on your nerves sometimes (with love, of course.) however, as your five month anniversary went by, and you rang in the start of the 21st century together ("we survived y2k, baby. i think this calls for some celebration." "just finish your cig in peace, ji."), you realized you didn't really . . . know him. like, some of the basics. here's some context—what initially tipped you off was something completely unrelated: a conversation that arose when you were out with friends; out at brunch at a local diner, taking up an entire booth, catching up after some time apart. an anecdote filled your ears: "we went all the way to his mom's for his little brother's birthday," a friend was recounting her previous weekend with her boyfriend; the tinkering of silverware and iced teas decorating the air. "it was fun. the food was so good—i haven't stopped thinking about the baked ziti." a wave of chuckles spread around the booth, including from you. as she went on, your inner monologue took your attention away from your french toast: does jiyong have a sibling? i think he mentioned having an older sister before . . . but where does he live? oh my god—where does he live?

you grabbed your glass of water, taking a sip, mentally going down the rabbit hole. does his mom live with him? are his parents divorced? i mean, with his dad's work, its highly unlikely . . . but still—what's his family like? holy shit, i don't even know his favorite fucking movie. now the standing question is was this a product of your own actions, or was he just secretive to the point it all fell under the radar? it felt complex and confusing, and also as if the universe was targeting you directly. the next thing cemented it: the mention of your name from someone in the group took you out of your head. "hm? what's up?" you muttered. "does jiyong have any hobbies?" you have got to be kidding me. you thought to yourself, out of everything i could've been asked. and i don't even fucking know. the look on her face was almost knowing, but in a different way. the subtle snarkiness ruminated in some of your friends since you told them you and jiyong were dating—a product of not having the gall to ask you about his family directly, you've figured. "he does," you quickly said, nodding. "he likes making mixtapes—" "has he made you one?" "yeah, he has. a couple, actually." you nodded again. now lay off; and she did.

not only was jiyong the type to know what he wanted, but he knew when something was up. a lifetime in a household riddled with conflict will do that to you. he doted on your cheek with sweet kisses, remnants of your shared desire sporadically sprinkled throughout the hotel room the following weekend. his arms were wrapped around your naked body, bringing you closer to his own whilst he lowly hummed in content—but you weren't paying attention, and deliberately so. your eyes remained glue to the uninteresting re-run playing on the late night television channel. jiyong was losing his patience, but kept himself leveled: "is something on your mind, baby?" he asked gently. "no." you responded curtly. he pursed his lips, "your pout says different." you let out a huff, defeated, turning your head towards him. a moment passed before you spoke: "i don't know you." you blurted. immediately confused, jiyong's eyebrows furrowed. "what?" "i mean—" you shook your head, "let me explain." you turned to face him fully. "the other day, i was out with my friends. one of them talked about, like, going to her boyfriend's mom's house for a birthday party, and i just thought about how i didn't even know where you live. like, what part of the city, or something." you thought aloud.

your effort to find your words subconsciously led you to sit up in bed, hand out as if you were rifling through the metaphorical word bank. "like, i don't even know what your favorite movie is, ji." you shook your head. "the godfather." he joked, shit-eating grin on his face; head propped against his palm, elbow on his pillow. "this is what i fucking mean!" you exclaimed, gesturing towards him. "be for real, jiyong. now's not the time." "okay, okay. i'm sorry," he apologized, sitting up himself. "i'm not really one for movies." he said. "i'm more into tv—like twin peaks. i really like that show." you looked at him. your subtle pout made you look kissable to the level of a federal offense. "what's your favorite ice cream flavor?" "easy: rocky road." answered jiyong. he looked at you for the next question, but it didn't feel satisfactory. nothing did. your face sunk into your palms. "i don't even know where you live, jiyong." you repeated, albeit with an added sense of self-pity. "that's, like, the first thing someone knows about their significant other. i said 'i love you' before i even knew whether you live on a fucking cul-de-sac, or some shit."

his chest felt heavy. he knew you were right. perhaps his efforts of protecting you from the mess of his life backfired. he didn't feel the need to be retaliatory or on the offense, but instead owned up to it. "i'm sorry." he muttered. "no, jiyong. don't apologize," you shook your head. "that's not what i—you know what . . . i don't even know what i meant. just—just forget it." "no, don't do that." he tsked, shaking his head. "that's the last thing we should do right now. c'mere, baby." he scooted closer to you, wrapping his arm around you, bringing your head to his shoulder. "i'm not the best at being open." he murmured, only for your ears to hear. "but i'm going to try my best to change that—for you. you hear me?" he kissed your temple. "its the least i could fuckin' do." he thought aloud. a long breath left his lungs, eyes fluttering closed, letting himself feel the uncomfortable emotions stirring in his chest. "how about i bring you around tomorrow before i drop you home?" he spoke into your supple skin, pressing a kiss. "my parents won't be home, so it won't be a lot at once. but it'll be a start. how's that sound, baby?" "okay. as long as you're good with it." you said. "i'm more than good with it." he assured with a nod. "you're the person i trust the most, y'know."

his family's house was beautiful. lived in, personal, and not intimidating whatsoever—in fact, it was normal. luxurious, yes, but normal. he lived in a gated community lined with homes with price tags you could only imagine, parking his car on the driveway made with any regular asphalt (you felt asinine for being compelled by such a small detail, but couldn't blame yourself either). the few granite steps leading to the front door were lined with potted flowers in bloom on either end. you had hardly any time to take in just how fucking wide the door was, because before you knew it, paws were pitter-pattering on the floor, followed by a handful of barks. "this is rodney." jiyong bent down after taking his shoes off, scratching behind the beagle's ears. "we got him for my older sister when she turned sixteen. i didn't name him that nerdy shit—she did."

jiyong then gave a tour: the wall of family photos that lined the left side of the hallway leading to the kitchen—the frames aged yet elegant (the portraits weren't giving jcpenney but a friend of a friend of a friend who knows an exclusive french photographer, and mixed in effortlessly with developed photos from disposable cameras and polaroids from family reunions); a descriptive yet comedic detailing of the food in the fridge after you mentally got over how spacious the kitchen island is ("this sliced meat right here—my dad's gone to the same butcher since he was a kid. oh, and this tupperware—my mom's bulgogi marinade is top tier." "i can't wait to try it one day, ji." "you will, baby. you will."); peeking out the windows on the lited doors serving as an entryway into the backyard, staring at the pool before harkening your attention back to him standing in the living room, the couch and nintendo 64 between you two ("me, and this couch. like this—" he crossed his fingers. "every thursday at nine for twin peaks." "no wonder you disappear." "prior obligations, baby."); to finally his bedroom, with rodney filing in and settling into his duvet whilst showed you his cds ("wu-tang clan changed my life." "can i borrow it to listen to it sometime?" "its like you want me to drop everything and propose right now." "its never ending with you, jiyong.")

when rodney decided he was over it, he jumped down and left the room, allotting the bed to you and jiyong. some time later, you laid comfortably atop the duvet, fingers entangled in jiyong's hair as your lips molded against his, his palms tenderly rubbing up and down your side. from time to time, you grew flustered, breaking the kiss and turning away, beckoned back to him upon his lips trailing from your cheek to the corner of your mouth. when it happened for the third time, a smile stretched his mouth. "hey," his breath was hot against your cheek, deepening your sheepish state. "come back here. stop doing that, baby." he purposefully elongated the last syllable, kissing your supple skin slowly. "don't get all shy on me." "i don't know," you muttered. "sneaking over to my boyfriend's house . . . making out with him in his bedroom . . . getting all shy like this. its like i'm finally experiencing what everyone else did when they were sixteen." you looked at him, slightly embarrassed. "does that sound stupid?" "not at all," jiyong shook his head, admiration apparent in his eyes. "you're so fucking cute that it pisses me off sometimes." he laughed at your scoff and eye roll, leaning closer when you nudged him away. "like, i get to be your baby. can you believe that?" "you're always on the brink of being my enemy." "that's hot." "jesus—its never ending!"

slowly ushering you into his life began to mend some things. he pushed aside those movie dates where you sat at the back of the theater, lips together like there was some sort of magnetic force; the gelato café where you've tried every flavor twice and repeatedly beat him at chess on the set out for customers; you two fighting the glitchy atm as he tries to deposit money to pay the overpriced rental rates for pattleboats at a nearby waterfront ("its like the universe doesn't want me to ride the dragon paddleboat." "you sound more like me everyday, ji.") for a restaurant his family has frequented since he was a kid. it was lavish and elegant—yet a sense of community was palpable. jiyong greeted the hostess like he's known her his entire life (because he has), cooly pulling out your chair out for you before settling in himself. he had a pristine suit on coupled with the watch he met you in, wearing them both with ease like a second skin of sorts, ordering the chicken parm for the both of you ("its the best dish and also ginormous") and a wine you were pretty sure had three digits after the dollar sign on the menu.

as out-of-body of an experience this was, you felt you blended in somewhat. it was all in your outfit: a long sleeve red dress that draped just above your knees, complemented by black tights, pearl earrings jiyong gifted you for christmas, and a coat to protect from the bitter winter cold outside. jiyong could tell you were uneasy at first, eyes lingering on you whilst the waiter poured water into your glasses, seeing you try to hide your pensive expression with a grin. "c'mere," he called softly, arm draped on the back of your chair. "see that lady over there? the one with the blue silk top?" "mhm." "has some of the worst french tips you've ever seen. she used to babysit me when i was a kid—shit was in my nightmares." "what a way to reach consciousness." you giggled, making him smile. "i know, right?" he concurred, looking around. "oh—that guy over there, by the plant," he pointed to the right. "he was caught with his twenty-one year old secretary. his wife took the kids—think they're about my age now—he went to turkey and got a hair transplant." he wanted for it to be in view. "move your head, motherfucker." jiyong muttered, glancing at you when you nudged his shoulder. "jiyong!" you chuckled. "what? i wanna show you—look! now!" he whispered. you were taken aback. "i'll be for real with you: i would've never guessed." his commentary was disarming and helped you relax; the kiss he planted on your cheek helping his case.

you felt the fleeting glances from others in the restaurant throughout the night. everyone really knows each other, you thought to yourself as you cut into the chicken parm. however, it wasn't attached to a flare of vitriol or scoping-out-the-fresh-meat, like your one friend would suggest if she knew where you were tonight, but with an air of curiosity and gentle would you look at that? before returning to their business. many, if not all of your fellow diners, were older and had known jiyong his entire life. it was tight-knit, exclusive—further illustrated by the aunties that came up to your table when you finished your meal and were waiting on dessert, doting on him with "you've grown up so well," and smiles brightening even more so upon seeing you. what topped it all off was when an elderly man greeted jiyong at your table in the midst of sharing a small plate of flan, followed by his wife and two younger children—all dressed to the nines. jiyong shot up from his seat, extending his hand, only to be pulled into a hug. you quickly figured this was one of his uncles, standing to your feet after jiyong said your name: "this is my girlfriend," you walked around the table, smiling politely. after making introductory small talk, you returned to your seat, not seeing the uncle grab jiyong's elbow: "you look married." he muttered, making jiyong chuckle, nodding.

"blood-related?" you asked him a moment or two later, glancing at the family being seated on the opposite end of the room. "take a guess." said jiyong, wiping the caramel drizzle from the corner of his mouth with a cloth napkin. "hm. . ." you thought aloud. you genuinely considered it: they shared a similar cadence and held their postures akin to looking into mirrors, but something in you said it was otherwise. "i'm gonna say no." you looked at him, hearing his spoon tinker against the porcelain plate. you shrugged your shoulders, "intuition, i guess." jiyong swallowed his bite of flan, smiling afterward. "what?" you questioned. "did i get it right?" jiyong nodded. "you did, yeah. he's my dad's oldest business partner. used to take me on fishing trips—it was him that shocked me the most when i put the pieces together, y'know?" "mhm. i see, i see." you nodded. you scooped some flan in your spoon, slipping it into your mouth. you sat back on your chair, letting out a breath as your arms crossed over your chest. jiyong couldn't help his grin—you looked like a natural. "you're gonna fit in well here." he told you. "i barely know what i'm doing." you said. "well," he countered. "there's nothing to know. i'm just . . . . me. you just need to be you."

you grabbed your wine glass, stirring it with a subtle rotation of the stem held by your fingers. "i told my parents about us." said jiyong. "you did?" you asked, eyebrows furrowed, taking another sip. jiyong nodded, "i told my mom, like, two weeks after we met. she was so excited." he tried to act cool about it, but you saw through the sudden avoidant eye contact and nervous chuckle; amused grin on your face. "how about your dad?" you set your glass down. "he found out through her." explained jiyong, seeing you nod. "then—then he tried to ask me about you like he didn't know. he's not that good at being subtle." he shook his head, smile stretching his mouth hearing your laughter. his family sounded sweet and admirable, a stark contrast from their perceived reputation. a product of being multi-faceted and cunning, you figured, but you found it endearing nonetheless. "would you—" jiyong cleared his throat. you knew what was coming. "would you ever tell your parents about me?" "absolutely," you answered without hesitation. "they might, y'know, stop drop and roll to the hospital. but they're just going to have to suck it the fuck up, quite frankly."

jiyong smiled so big that his eyes kissed in the corners. "that's right." he chuckled, nodding. "would they be more calm if there was a diamond on your ring finger?" you gave him a look, eyes narrowing a little. "i think that might induce cardiac arrest, but not before it does me—because i know you're not about to get down on one knee right now." "i'm not!" he smiled, shaking his head. "i promise, i'm not! well, not yet—" "—jiyong." "its just an idea!" he defended. "to think about!" you tsked, unable to hide your grin, watching as he took the checkbook from the waiter. "yeah, okay," you nodded. "think about it, silently, to yourself as you pay the bill." "mhm, mhm." he nodded, biting his bottom lip; utmost failure of keeping his smile at bay, placing his card into the book and handing it back to the waiter. "you don't see us doing that, though?" he wondered aloud. "if i say yes, you can't use it against me and make me all flustered and shit." "i can't promise you that." "well, then i guess you'll never know." jiyong smiled knowingly. "think i got my answer, baby."

as the good fluttered in, so did the bad. things got real rather quickly—in every meaning of the word. it wasn't that you were naive and expected some adrenaline-pumping life with jiyong. he was normal, and just a person whom was born into circumstances out of his control. he felt so lucky to have found someone so generous and grounding, accepting of his family without materialistic expectations or with a looming hunger for intel. you wanted him for him; the good, but also the ugly—no matter how visceral it may be. living a life of nuance wasn't a culture shock. everyone experienced it in their own respective lives, whether it was what you perused for at the grocery store, how you were raised, the car you drove, your personal quirks, your defining experiences; the list was endless. jiyong's just happened to be the talk of the city, and on full public display when he was pushed to the edge. so when he showed up to your window on a late thursday night, knocking softly and one when your bedroom door was closed (the rules you established long ago), with small cuts on his face and a bruise forming on his chin, you didn't know what to do.

"h-hey baby," he smiled—an effort to fight his increasingly glossy eyes. "how are—how's it going?" "ji," your voice was quiet, taking the sight of him in. "what . . . what happened?" "uh—" he licked his lips, wiping a fallen tear, seeing it mixed with a droplet of blood leaked from a cut on his eyebrow. its now or never, he thought to himself. "y'know how—y'know how when he first met, i told you sometimes some guys try to give me trouble?" he sniffled. you nodded, "yeah." "well, sometimes," he sucked in a breath. "sometimes i let them." the shame felt atomic. it all happened so quickly . . . out to dinner with his friends . . . having a smoke in the parking lot outside . . . the son of his father's many business partners that's been on the brink of being ousted coming up to him . . . the beef trickling back to jiyong, the eldest and only son of his father's, having to take the heat . . . next thing he knew, he was flooring it to your apartment complex, his face pulsating.

he shook his head. "i didn't have anywhere else to go." he looked at you pleadingly. "its—its—" hard to explain, his inner monologue finished, but he couldn't get the words out. "do you . . . do you have a first aid kit?" his voice fell to a whisper. a moment went by before you responded, everything starting to sink in. "i do have something—" "—t-thank you!" he let out a breath. he grabbed your hands, kissing your inner wrists. "i'm so sorry b-baby. i didn't mean to scare you—i love you so fucking much." he cried. "hey, ji, i need you to breath." you brought him back down to earth, watching him inhale and exhale shakily. "you stay here and out of sight until i get back." you motioned to the brick wall to your left. he's done it before, hiding himself during a close call with your parents early in your relationship. "okay?" "y-yeah." he nodded. "don't—don't take long." "i won't."

you did what you could with the tools at your disposal: a bottle of antiseptic that's been lodged in the bathroom cabinet for years in case it was needed; applying it to his cuts with a cotton round, neosporin that was bought recently after your dad nipped his finger fixing a loose hinge on a kitchen cabinet, and a pack of bandaids that have been there as long as the antiseptic. it wasn't much, but it did the job. jiyong didn't have it in him to hiss at the slight stinging, let alone scrunch his face up in muted discomfort. you two sat in silence, you carefully placing the bandaid on his eyebrow as best you could, your other hand lifting his hair so it wouldn't stick to the adhesive. "do you wanna tell me what happened?" you spoke quietly, fingers fixing his hair. jiyong shook his head. "its fucking embarrassing." a beat went by. "i don't wanna scare you—or something." "you wouldn't. its not embarrassing to tell your girlfriend about something, ji." you told him. he recounted the night as best he could, but didn't lift his head to look at you; falling into mutters when it got to the more sensitive parts. it left you bewildered, but accepting—there wasn't any other choice.

"i'm sorry, jiyong." your hand rubbed his bicep tenderly. "you don't deserve that pressure. no one does." "it can get real fuckin' tough." he nodded, feeling the tears brew again. "like there's no way out sometimes. just gotta suck it up, y'know?" he looked up at you, sniffling. "i know." you whispered. "can i—" he let out a shaky breath. "can i stay here tonight?" "you know that's not possible, ji." you said—your parents down the hall. "i know," he nodded quickly, wiping his cheek. "but i just—i had to ask. how about the hotel? do you wanna go?" "i have work early in the morning." "oh shit—yeah. i forgot. sorry." he muttered. he knew this was coming: he'd have to deal with these emotions himself. he wasn't new to this, but it would've been nice to spend the night with his love. "its okay." you assured, reaching for his hand. "can you—can you hold me? i'm sorry, i don't wanna be a burden—" "—shut up." you cut him off, pulling him into your embrace. he nuzzled his face into your neck nearly immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist, eyes closing at the feel of your hands traveling up his back, settling behind his shoulders. you talked to him in a way that would resonate: "when you're the love of my fucking life, there's no such thing as being a burden." you whispered into his ear. "do you fucking hear me, ji? hm?" "yes." he responded meekly, holding onto you tighter.

your palm smoothened his hair, petting the back of his head like he’d wither away at any second. “i told my parents about us.” “you did?” he expected the worst. “what did … what did they say?” “they brought up your dad,” sounds about right, jiyong thought to himself. “which is surprising, since they usually keep to themselves, so i didn’t expect them to know. but i guess if you don’t talk, you listen.” you thought aloud, hearing and feeling jiyong hum as he listened. he opened his eyes, pondering if he should say what was brewing in his head. i’ve spilled so much tonight, he figured, might as well. “what did you say?” he asked. “i told them they have no idea what they’re talking about,” his eyes fluttered closed, holding you closer. “and left it at that.” he felt his face grow hot. “would they—would they ever wanna meet me?” “funnily enough, my mom asked me this morning before she left for work.” your hand traced up and down his arm. “between you and i,” you grinned. “she looked a little excited at the prospect.” “really?” jiyong lifted his head. “that's—that’s amazing.” a twinkle returned to his eyes. “we can take her to val’s,” the restaurant he took you to, “anything she wants, she gets. i don’t give a fuck how high the bill is.” he shook his head, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand. “what about your dad?” “he’ll come around.” you said. you saw his face drop a little. “it’ll take some time, but he’ll come around. i promise.” your hand came up, fingers fixing his hair, though it looked fine; you just wanted to be near him. jiyong nodded, turning his head to kiss your palm before leaning in, bringing his lips to yours. “i don’t know where i’d be without you.” “me neither.”

the next several months were smooth sailing. your first valentine’s was spent at val’s before making the headboard bash into the wall at the hotel—the bouquet of roses jiyong gave you sitting idly next to the gifts you got for one another on the tv stand. come spring, you met his family! not only his immediate, but most of his extended, as well. it called for extensive preparation: “what do i wear?” you asked him from your end of the line, mobile flip phone held between your ear and shoulder as you reached for your go-to cereal. “i don’t know—something casual?” jiyong lugged his laundry bag down the basement stairs. “its a fuckin’ dog’s birthday party. wear anything you want.” he let out a breath, lifting the top of the washer open. “no, jiyong,” you huffed, pouring your cereal into your bowl. “be for real. i’m not showing up in jeans. tell me so i can thrift accordingly.” “thrift? fuck no. i’m taking you to the mall to figure this out. what time’s your shift end?” “two.” you looked at the time on the oven—you had to be out the door in twenty minutes. “great,” you heard jiyong as you chewed. “we’ll be there at two-thirty.”

rodney’s adoption day party was as lively as a graduation or wedding engagement celebration. the love was in the air, specifically an excuse for a huge family to get together and eat good food. jiyong’s mother dashed over to you in her kitten heels before her son could utter a mere syllable, harnessing the most welcoming aura. “you’re more beautiful than i ever could’ve imagined, oh my goodness!” she seemed like the happiest person in the world, holding your face so softly in her hands as if you were god-sent. she took the boxed tiramisu you brought with a look of appreciation, taking your hand in hers, and effectively away from jiyong as she brought you to the festivities in the backyard; much to his chagrin. “how’re you feeling?” jiyong asked when his mother was beckoned away by an in law, hand on your lower back. “a lot of things,” you nodded. “many things—good things. colliding.” he chuckled. “good,” he nodded. “come here, we’ll start with my cousins.”

no one had to tell you his father was the one standing on the opposite end of the poolside, the way he carried himself did the talking. he was conversing with a small group when jiyong brought you over. he was half an inch taller than jiyong, never faltering his posture, even when extending his hand to shake yours. you were so fucking nervous, looking up at him with your best smile and polite greeting. it was like he knew, because what he said next was so disarming it nearly made you dizzy: “i’d usually be a lot less formal with my son’s girlfriend, but i’ve got a reputation to uphold with these guys.” he gestured his head to the right. you let out a laugh, missing him patting jiyong’s shoulder and giving him an approving, re-assuring wink. you went to motherfucking town on that bulgogi, coupled with bottomless in-house mimosas (“compliments to the chef, your mom—holy shit.” “that’s what i’m saying!”); surprised when rodney recognized you after only meeting a couple times, delighted when he came over and sat by your feet (“you’re his mommy.” “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”); or him watching happily when you got along with one of his older cousins, talking to her about coldplay’s upcoming record. a job well done; a new chapter opened.

you were invited frequently back to his house for dinner thereafter. your parents did come around, treated to dinner at val's—jiyong answering whatever questions your father threw at him with unbridled ease. finally, after all this time, it felt as if things were falling into place. so much so that when it came time for his birthday, several weeks after celebrating your first year together, you took a page out of his book: making a mixtape. sure, your family computer was running like a jet engine by the end of it … and you picked up an album of an artist he likes just in case it didn’t work … along with something else … but its the thought that counts, right? right. you handed him the small gift bag before after he climbed out your bedroom window, ready to say goodnight. “happy birthday, my love.” you held his face, bringing your lips to his. “thank you, baby.” he smiled. “what is it?” you tsked, making him chuckle. “open it when you get home. its just … a little something.” “a little something?” “a token for you to remember me by.” you grinned, referring to his family’s week long trip visiting his elder sister and brother-in-law, set to fly out early in the morning. “your dramatic ass.” he teased, giving you a sweet kiss. “i love you. i’ll be back before you know it.” “i love you too,” you rested your hands on the windowsill, watching him descend down the fire escape. “page me when you get home—drive safe!” “i will!”

the mixtape worked, holy shit! he read the accompanying card with a grin on his face, heart doubled in size, practically seeping out of his pores when he opened a greatest hits cd of one of his favorite artists. he set them down on his nightside table, peering into the bag and seeing a box was left. he fished it out—it looked like it would house jewelry, nothing bigger than that. did she get me a bracelet? necklace, maybe? he wondered, lifting the lid. what stared back at him was unmistakable ribbed knit black fabric, lined with what looked to be white elastic hemming tucked into the sides; half of the brand name visible. “holy fucking shit.” he whispered to himself. he’s seen you wear this pair before—better yet, he’s taken it off of you before. he picked the folded underwear out of the box, watching it dangle off his fingers in awe. a thought flashed in his mind. he leaned in, inhaling. then he inhaled again. and again. and again. is that why she went to the bathroom before i left? to fucking pack this—he inhaled sharply, looking down and seeing how hard he was through his shorts. holy fuck.

he triple checked that his bedroom door was locked, taking an extra precaution and lodging the top of his desk chair underneath the handle. jiyong kicked his shorts and briefs off, laying comfortably in bed. he took a deep breath, beginning to stroke himself. he started slow, not wanting to work himself up too quickly. he stared at your underwear held in his palm, letting it dangle onto the linen before scooping it back up, teeth raking over his bottom lip. “look how hard you made me, b-baby—s-shit!” he whispered to himself, stomach curling inward, that fucking knot in his abdomen already threatening him. “look how hard you made your jiyongie.” the amount of precum he already had was (to him) embarrassing, making him grip his stiffened dick more firmly to prevent it from slipping; inadvertently making his mind numb and toes curl. “f-fuck!” he mewled. “keep—keep f-fucking me, b-baby! keep fucking jiyongie just like that—a-agh!” his voice escaped into a higher register, almost invisible in his broken whisper. he pressed the back of his hand against his lips to quiet himself, bringing your underwear back to his nose, eyes rolling back upon catching your scent again. a vein popped onto his temple, sweat building on his forehead—eyes shut, thinking of how your skin jiggles every time he fucks you; the way you look up at him before taking his dick in your warm mouth; the thought of you taking your underwear off in the bathroom and packing it for him.

“o-oh my god!” he whimpered. without thinking, he wrapped your underwear around his dick the best his horned-out mind could, fucking his fist. “c-can’t h-help it, b-baby—can’t hold it in—f-fuck!” he came so hard, feeling it bleed through the fabric and trail down his balls. he breathed so hard he could power a fucking windmill, body feeling like jelly as he aimlessly reached for his jeans on the floor, fishing out his flip phone and speed-dialing you. all you heard was his heavy breathing: “hello? ji?” “i’m gonna f-fucking marry you.” he huffed, chest heaving. “what?” you furrowed your eyebrows, the microphone a little muffled. “is everything okay?” “i said—” he licked his lips. “i said i’m gonna marry you—a-agh! f-fucking—f-fuck.” he whimpered into the microphone, his mewls making it all click. you looked down at your thighs, heat brewing between them. “did you—” you swallowed. “did you like your gift?” “like it?” jiyong huffed. “baby, i—i came in it.” how could she act all innocent when she knows what she’s doing? oh my god—i’m gonna get hard all over again, his inner monologue rambled, breathing finally leveling. your jaw fell, catching it quickly behind your palm. “good to—good to know.” you muttered, hiding your face from no one. i wonder if that hotel would accept guests at one in the morning … you thought to yourself.

by the end of your second summer together, there was a stack of photos on your dresser—developed from various disposable cameras. most were from the same barbecue, beginning with a photo of you and a friend making drinks in the kitchen; the snacks lining the counter; the small bonfire that somehow became overexposed when developed; jiyong giving a thumbs up when the flash went off—a tester photo when you thought you fucked the camera up; you and your friends trying to coordinate a photo; you in the middle with jiyong and seunghyun (you finally know who he is! he’ll never let that inside joke go) on either side of you; and two of you and jiyong smiling grandly in both—the first with his arms around you sweetly; the second he calls “just let your dad handcuff me right now,” his hands visibly on your ass, cigarette hanging between his lips as he grinned. he couldn’t help the very characteristic thing he said after picking the photos up from the department store, rifling through them with you in his car: “damn. we look hot as fuck, baby.”

honey's tag list! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა: @gongyoosgf; @infinetlyforgotten; @riddlerloveb0t; @mesopotamism; @pepsicolapussi; @breakmeoff

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kirbmey · 4 months ago

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psycho killer zayne !

💌: this won’t suit everyone, veeeery graphic descriptions of torture, gore, etc. it was inspired by american psycho, so you get an idea. don’t like it? leave, block me, whatever.

the relationship you had with zayne was soft, quiet and intimate. he was such a sweetheart to you, truly.

for example, calling you when he had a break between surgery and surgery, checking on you and asking you the most caring questions with a lovely tender voice.

“honey, how are you? I just got out of the operating room. couldn’t stop thinking about you since I left this morning.” he confessed in a tender manner, holding the phone between his head and shoulder while he took off his surgical gloves, sitting on a random chair in an empty hallway.

you expected his calls, always. pacing around his house impatiently, dressed in his big shirts as you sat by the window, looking at the city lights from above as you two held the conversation in almost whispers.

“you shouldn’t think of me when someone’s life is at risk, silly.” you giggled softly, placing your head in the hand you rested on the windowsill, viewing the streets you always walked next to your lover while holding hands. “I miss you, want you here with me.” you added with a pout taken over your lips.

the line went silent for a second as zayne started to come up with ways to excuse the reason why he wouldn’t make it home for tonight. “my dear, I miss you too, more than you can imagine. but I have to cover my colleague for the night, I won’t make it home today.” you were the silent one now, feeling the sadness you were too familiar with creep to your heart.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’ll make it up to you.” he stated after waiting for a response that never came, fidgeting with the discarded glove as he expected your sweet voice to reassure him from the other side of the line.

you shut your eyes in an attempt to make the tears roaming around your eyes disappear. “it’s fine, don’t worry. don’t forget to rest a bit and eat, please?” he hummed as a response to your request, keeping up the conversation until he has to leave, saying goodbye with a warm ‘I love you’ to which you replied the classic ‘I love you too’.

you would never know, but he was doing this for you, to protect you.

protect you from the zayne you had no relationship with at all, the one you never met. and will never meet.

you see, zayne’s always been a calm guy, so put together and collected. he always knew how to handle any complex situation, any angry patient, any of your tantrums complaining about not spending enough time together.

you thought you’ve already met the unleashed zayne when he fucked you for the first time, distancing from the caring one you loved. how he pounded into your cervix so fast, how he slapped across your face after spitting on your mouth, how he spoke those mean words in such a condescending manner, as if he was making you a favor. you loved this zayne as well.

that was all the mean he could get to you, when he felt like fucking you instead of making love to you. and you never worried too much about it either, he didn’t mean those words, he wasn’t like that.

your zayne wasn’t like that.

the zayne stalking behind a woman your exact age to push a cloth over her mouth and put her to sleep so he could lock her in a filthy basement was like that.

he doesn’t know why or when those thoughts started to mess up with his mind, but he got off to them. the image of women crying in fear, begging for their lives as blood covered their oh so beautiful breasts was better than any porn video online.

and hey, he’s been doing this for a while now, even before you two met. but his little sweet angel only made it worse, because now you were the one he imagined crying and begging, covered in blood. and he was scared as he didn’t want to hurt you like that, in a permanent way. not in a kinky way, in a deathly way.

he wished he could kill you again, again and again, and then make you come back to life to kill you once more. he wanted to take care of you in the tenderest way possible and wanted to kill you in the filthiest way possible too.

so he started to murder more often, and he got crueler each time. the latest victim in front of him, oh poor soul, was going to be a witness to the zayne you’ll never know.

the girl in front of his broad figure stood naked with both her wrists tied to the ceiling with the roughest rope ever made, making the soft skin brake into small droplets of blood.

zayne fucking loved blood.

she stir awake, her eyes adjusting to the white light as her heartbeat raced faster each passing second, screaming for help and squirming around to try and break free form the restraints.

“my fucking god, why you whores always react the same way?” he spoke calmly as he approached her shaky form, grabbing a fistful of her hair to then slap her, not even close as the kind of slaps he gave you, making the girl shut up instantly as she started crying and apologizing.

zayne couldn’t care less about what she had to say, towering over her and fixated on the red liquid decorating her soft skin.

he had to touch it. smell it. taste it.

so he did, he leaned into her smaller frame, making her take a few steps back as he grabbed her arm to lick down on it, grunting when the metallic flavor covered his tongue. he got hard immediately.

he tasted it. now he needed to fuck into it.

“see? you can be silent for a while.” he chuckled lowly as he wiped the remains from his lips, turning around to grab a small cart hiding in the shadows and pull it in front of her, standing behind it. “but I’m afraid it won’t last—”

when she saw the contents of the silver platter on top of it she started crying and screaming once more. come on, it wasn’t so bad, was it?

his favorite scalpel with his name craved into the side, a sharp knife, a few nails next to a rusty hammer, a gun (boring) and a wrench.

lord, she didn’t even see the bat and machete in the lower shelf of the cart. how unconsiderate.

“I always let everyone choose, is the least I can do.” he clarified as he cleaned each of the tools before him with a cloth, pink with flowers. a gift you gave him; he carried a piece of you everywhere. “but don’t worry, dead or alive, you’ll test them all.”

after a little bit of pushing, yelling and cursing she chose the gun (he had to get rid of it, everyone chose the goddamn gun). he laughed wholeheartedly at her choice as he grabbed it and loaded it with a singular bullet.

he pushed the cart away to stand closer to her, filling her mouth with said cloth when her yelling got to his nerves. he always washed it after each job as he did with all of his tools, don’t worry. through and through a real and hygienic professional.

zayne traces the curve of her body with the head of the gun, palming himself through his briefs as he leaned down to whisper to her ear. “you think I’m gonna shoot you in the head and call it a day? after all the effort it took me to bring you here? no, no.” the gun stoped its travel, pointing at her tummy, caressing her bellybutton with it as he rubbed himself against his palm.

he held her head down to make her watch how he pressed the trigger, the bullet going trough her stomach. blood everywhere. now the fun part.

his white shirt was splashed with it, as his face, his hands, don’t even bother to think of how the wall behind her looked. everywhere he looked at, there was blood, red, warm blood.

zayne dropped the gun to the floor, grabbing her hips to bring her decaying body closer to him. he pulled the now bloody cloth out of her mouth before dropping it to the puddle next to the weapon, licking and kissing her crimson lips like a starving dog.

grunts and moans filled the four concrete walls as he rubbed his leaking tip against the hole in her tummy, tugging at the base as the foreskin feared to push a bit too much inside of said hole.

he didn’t even care about the now dead body in front of him, too busy breeding the wound after mere seconds. it was always like that, hard to get and fast to finish.

the other tools were used too, don’t worry. he had the time of his life that night.

and when he came back home to you, late at night when you were already fast asleep, after he burnt her and all of the possible evidence as he always did, he took a steamy shower, whistling full of joy, smiling at the dry blood converting the transparent water into that shade of pink you loved to then disappear down the drain.

you’d wake up shortly after with his dark and soft locks tickling your naked thighs as he nibbled at your clit and humped the mattress, offering you the best head he’d ever given to you. ever.

squirt all over his expensive sheets, over and over. so fucking wet, squelchy. warm, he needed more.

the sunlight met your lord knows what number orgasm, his jaw numb from all the effort and his mind cloudy because of the lack of sleep. “I love you, I love you.” he mumbled as he traced kisses from your thighs to your mouth, letting you taste the sweet nectar he got from you.

you’d ask him what’s gotten into him, he’d tell you he loves you once again.

your soft, quiet and intimate zayne loved you and wanted to take care of you.

the other zayne wanted to fucking kill you, stab you and beat you to death <3

let’s hope you never never ever meet him !

💌: yes i love patrick bateman and gore, I’m just a girl >_<

#lads headcanons #lads smut #love and deepspace fic #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #lnds zayne smut #love and deepspace zayne smut #lnds zayne #zayne x mc #zayne x reader #zayne smut #zayne x you

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moonydustx · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, I was wondering if you could do Zoro, Luffy, Ace, Mihawk, and Lucci as well as Crocodile x Reader, what if the reader, one day tells them that they are pregnant, how would they react/ How would they be as parents? ( also maybe add some parenting shenanigans, knowing these guys.)

OMG! You have no idea how much I loved your request. I know, I know, it took me a looooong time to respond. But after a few migraines (and anxiety), I'm back. I was already thinking about doing something like that, but I was lacking some kind of inspiration so thanks <3 Maybe I got carried away with writing, I'm terrible at summaries and things like that , but I hope you like it.

The structure is kind of: them discovering the pregnancy, them dealing with the pregnancy and a small hint of how they deal with the children.

Warnings are placed individually in each story.

I'm dividing it into two parts so as not to be exhaustive. (I'm sorry, I reaaaally got carried away writing it).

PART 2 HERE - Lucci, Mihawk and Crocodile.

requests open | one piece masterlist

Zoro

Warnings: Fluuuff, super fluff. F!Reader has a bad health at the beginning of this one. Sanji is Zoro's daughter's favorite person for food reasons.And of course, Zoro is protective and jealous (especially towards the little girl).

It should have just been a momentary relief, you didn't expect the little escapades between you and Zoro to turn into a relationship. Much less did I expect to have seen the two blue lines on the small stick that you kept hidden in your small desk. How to raise a baby in Sunny? How to tell Zoro that the relationship between the two of you would now gain another part?

You wished you had more time to think about the solution, more time to even clear your doubts with Chopper, but the little being inside you insisted on demonstrating its existence. One of the days, you had almost passed out on top of Franky - who obviously freaked out. In the other, he had eaten twice as much as Luffy ate and had to come up with a lame excuse. This time, it was the third time in a row that you had put food in your mouth and it barely lasted minutes in your stomach.

"Hey…" you heard your name being called from outside the bathroom, but it was a female voice. "Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine, Robin."

"I believe that fine is not the term that best defines your situation." she laughed, still outside. Not knowing how to deal with the situation, you reached out and opened the door, giving her space to enter. "What's our plan?"

"What do you mean our plan?"

"Nausea, dizziness, food cravings, and all the noise you and Zoro make when you're alone." with every word that came out of her mouth, you could feel your skin turn pale. "The swordsman doesn't know yet, right?"

"Not yet." your face sank into your own hands, frustrated with the indecision that plagued your mind. "What do I do, Robin?"

"I suggest you talk to your boyfriend soon, I believe he might accept the idea better than you might expect." She smiled gently, brushing aside the strands of hair that stuck to your face. "However, right now he's trying to kill the cook because he thinks he gave you some spoiled food."

Robin's light laugh was left behind as you ran towards the screams, which had seemed imperceptible before now became increasingly audible.

"Stupid cook, he doesn't even know how to make an egg properly."

"You moldhead, shut your mouth."

"Mold is what you're putting in your food."

"You two stop." you stood between the two, shouting at the top of your lungs and interrupting their argument and the laughter of the others, who were entertained by Zoro and Sanji fighting. "I just… I just need…" the air seemed to disappear from your lungs and the scorching sun above you became just a black screen.

Minutes, hours, days, when your eyes opened, you felt so tired that you couldn't calculate how long you were gone. The first thing that crossed your field of vision was Chopper walking from side to side with a stethoscope in hand.

"Ah, you're awake!" he came happily by your side.

"What happened?" you knew very well what had happened, but first of all you needed to find out what the little doctor had already discovered.

"I'm sorry, but Robin told me some things." He placed the cold item to listen to your heartbeat, remaining silent for a few seconds.

"And is everything okay? I mean, with…" the word seemed to disappear from your lips, it was difficult to bring up the idea without knowing how the other party responsible for it would react.

"These days helping Franky, all this commotion from the fight, from my diagnosis, you're just exhausted. And a little dehydrated too, and that's not good for you or the baby." he explained, sweetly as usual. "By my reckoning, you must be two months pregnant. I'll talk to Luffy and Nami, so we can quickly find an island and secure supplies."

"Wait!" you held him, even though the reindeer hadn't moved. "Can I talk to Zoro first?"

"Of course, he doesn't know yet, right? But he's out there, very worried."

"Do you mind calling him for me?" you asked and saw him nod, leaving the small infirmary.

Your body still feeling heavy from fatigue, you sat down thinking about what words to use, how to bring up such an important subject. The door opened, but you lacked the courage to face the man who stopped in front of you. His silhouette on the ground began to become more real and closer, only then did you realize that he had bent down to be at your height.

"Ready to talk about this?" he whispered and adjusted his posture, remaining standing in front of you as your legs dangled off the bed.

"About what?" His eyes dropped from your face, went to your stomach and looked back at you. To his surprise, he found your orbs wide open in surprise. "How do you know?"

"I was looking for my material to clean my katanas, I missed the drawer and ended up opening yours. I found something strange there and asked Robin. As the drawer was yours, the test could only be yours." he listed with the most passable face in the world.

At the same time it lifted a burden from your conscience. You wanted to kill him for leaving you in agony and thinking of ways to bring up the subject.

"I understood." Your voice was calmer than you could have expected, but you could feel your eyes burning with pure anticipation - and hormones, which you would still discover how much they would affect you. "And what do we do now?"

"We continued sailing." Noticing your stress, one of his hands joined yours, on top of your belly. "And if it becomes too risky, beyond my ability to protect you both, we step aside for a while and then the three of us come back when it's safe."

You wanted to be grateful that he didn't freak out, you wanted to freak out yourself or even say "What do you mean we're step aside?", but the only things that came out of you were tears and sobs, as you clung to his torso.

"I-I thought you would hate me…" a lot more sobs, a lot more tears. "And you was going to leave me on some island."

"I would never do that."

"And I-I wanted to eat the salad Sanji makes."

"You can ask that idiot." Zoro gave his arm, he didn't understand much about pregnancies, but when he found out about the subject Robin explained some things about hormones and sensitivity, while Chopper, in the little time he had to call him, had warned him about the health conditions of the woman who he loved most in the world. Arguments with the cook could wait.

"Don't worry, sweetheart." He had to contain his own laughter hearing you say such nonsense. "I promise to take care of you both, here at Sunny or anywhere else."

Zoro couldn't define his promise about taking care of you better. The remaining months of pregnancy passed faster than you could imagine, despite you being left out of any and all activities. No fighting, no major exploration, no staying near stairs or high places. On the other hand, there was a type of exercise that your hormones craved - and consequently, disturbed the entire team.

After long hours of labor, you didn't know who was screaming more - you, in pain, Zoro desperately wanting Chopper to do something or Luffy thinking you were going to die, seeing the blood when he decided to peek into the room. When little Kuina was born, everyone, including you, discovered a new side of the swordsman. More careful, delicate, he held the little girl like the most precious thing in the entire universe. The three swords were no longer tied to him all the time, the insults directed at the cook became a little lighter when the little girl with green hair was nearby.

"Uncle Sanjiiiii" the girl, now five years old, ran and hummed towards the kitchen, clinging to the cook's leg. "Can you make 'rispy potatos for me?"

"Of course my dear, just give me a few minutes." you saw the cook laugh at her pronunciation, but he already knew the girl's favorite dish and no, they weren't the spicy ones.

"Why don't you ask me?" Zoro grumbled, crossing his arms and forcing you not to make fun of him and destroy the little authority he had - yes, little because the man had a soft heart towards his daughter. Not to mention the small jealousy he accumulated towards little Kuina.

"Uncle Sanji's are tastier." she stuck her tongue out at him, laughing with the cook afterwards.

"You know what? Let's see." Zoro marched to the edge of the sink and took the girl from the cook's legs. "You go with your mommy there while we go prepare something."

"Please don't kill yourselves." you murmured, picking the small girl up in your arms. "And you my love, what do you think about going to see Usopp fishing?"

"Yay!"

Zoro practically growled at Sanji and began to dedicate himself to his tasks. Boiled and roasted potatoes, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside in small pieces, was his daughter's favorite dish, it wasn't that difficult, was it? The presentation wasn't the best, at least not compared to Sanji's, but he watched the girl try a little of each dish. After thinking for a brief moment, she pulled out the plate made by Zoro and began to eat happily.

"This one! The dad ones!" She offered you a small potato, which you accepted. "Daddy knows how to make it too! Now I can eat 'rispys every day."

The flavor was good, but you knew that cooking wasn't your now husband's strong point. You reached out and took a small piece of Sanji's and understood what it was, seeing the blonde blink quickly at you, unnoticeable to the other two. In this case, your husband was now holding your daughter on his lap and spinning her around while she was thrilled that he would now have a new potato supplier.

"Uncle Captain Luffy will like it. Dad, shall we take some for him?" she asked showing with her little fingers the small amount she wanted to share and as always, Zoro immediately answered her.

"You know he's going to eat it all, don't you my dear?" He took the plate with his free hand and left with the girl on his lap.

"Thanks." you turned to Sanji, who smiled.

"I may not be a fan of the mosshead, but I wouldn't accept seeing little Kuina disappointed." he replied, removing the dishes that had accumulated on the table and tasting some of the potato he had made. "I just didn't add any seasoning."

"The shitty cook doesn't know how to cook." you both heard him cheering outside and Kuina right behind. "Shitty cook, shiiiity, shit."

"Zoro!"

"I think I already regret helping." the blonde grumbled, watching you follow the two and give him a good scolding.

Luffy

warnings: Fluff, angst with a happy ending. Luffy is a lot more mature than usual in this one, mention of F!Reader being hurt (nothing serious). Gear 5 Luffy (yes, I'm still excited about his latest appearance). The child's name is Ravi, which means sun.

The floor of the small room that the two of you shared seemed to be about to sink with all the turns you had already taken and you were amazed that the test in your hands hadn't yet broken from so many times that it bumped against your fingers in pure anxiety.

"Hey, did you call me?" Luffy appeared at the door noticing that you were alone. "Finally, just the two of us!" he vibrated, about to grab you.

Since the two of you had left Foosha Village, you hadn't let go of each other. You started as rivals when you were children in Dadan's house and it took you a few months after entering the sea to understand the true feelings you had for each other. It didn't take long for him to call you his own pirate queen and introduce you as his girlfriend.

"Hi! Are you around?" he waved in front of you, taking you away from the memories of a past that was already distant and so different from what you would face.

"Luffy, we need to talk." you tried to take a firmer stance.

"As your captain or as your boyfriend?" He remembered the little agreement the two of you had made, to separate matters to maintain order - more precisely so you wouldn't kill your boyfriend when he stole food from your plate and, consequently, be left without a captain too.

"I think both, I don't know." a frustrated sigh left you, shoulders carrying the immense burden of fear. "I was feeling strange a few days ago, I was late…"

"Late for what?"

"I'm pregnant!" you spat out the words quickly. If the man hadn't been paying attention, he would barely have caught it. "I'm pregnant, Luffy."

"This is…" he sat down on the bed, lowering his head. You had never touched on such a subject, it barely crossed your mind what his attitude would be.

"I understand it's a lot, I'm scared too…Luffy?"

His laughter took over the room as soon as your feet left the floor and he turned you around, pressing your body tightly against his arms.

"A baby! A mini me or a mini you!" he vibrated and noticed your expression close. "Don't you want a mini me?"

"Not that. Just don't…" your hand went to your mouth, containing the nausea. "No spins, for a while."

"Ah, sorry." he placed you on the ground, more carefully. "How do you feel?"

"A little scared, I guess." You laughed lightly when you saw him bend down to analyze your belly. He promptly put his ear to it, trying to hear something. "Babe, the baby is the size of a grape now, it's a little hard to hear."

"But I know he knows I'm here. A boy!" He placed a quick kiss on your skin. You wouldn't question the fact that he's sure the baby is a boy.

"I think this is the best treasure I could find." you murmured, hugging your boyfriend and allowing yourself to stay there for a few seconds.

"Love?" his voice called to you quietly. "Can I tell everyone?"

"For sure!"

"Guys!!!" He barely waited for you to respond and pulled you out the door, shouting for his friends. "Let's have another crewmate."

"What idea is this Luffy?" Nami cut off her own scolding when she saw him pointing at her belly.

"We're going to have a baby!" your fear ceased for a while when you saw everyone vibrate with the news.

The time you had to find your balance, you lost when you felt Nami and Robin hug you together, happy for the news. It didn't take long for your other companions to congratulate you on the new life that had emerged there.

"Luffy, we need to stop at an island soon so I can get some materials." Chopper warned and the captain immediately agreed.

"Sanji, can we have a feast to celebrate, please." Luffy asked for cook, being interrupted by you who joined him.

"Meat…" the word alone brought the flavor to your mouth. "I need to eat meat and a pie, please Sanji. It could even be meat pie." you asked, clinging to the cook, in the best Luffy style. Noticing the attitude, you soon resumed your posture. "I think I have a little craving… for meat."

It was undeniable that Luffy's genes were strong in the little child who was growing month by month. Restless, the unborn baby was always making you incessantly hungry and seemed to think your belly was made of elastic. Anyone who looked at you would find you with a small package of snacks in hand or grumbling to Luffy about why he had to insist on poking your belly when the baby was quiet, making the child start kicking again. Luffy still didn't seem to have much of an idea of what having a pregnant girlfriend was like. Occasionally he would steal your snacks or make plans that involved you, getting slapped by other companions.

"She's strong and I'm sure our son will be too." was his common response every time.

The contour of the bulge of your belly was already noticeable at six months of pregnancy and even so, you liked to follow Luffy and the others on each new island they stepped on. This time, you didn't expect that a little shopping break would turn into a horror so quickly. An enemy of Luffy had found you along with Nami and Sanji and even though the cook was capable of fighting, he couldn't hold off the man and his henchmen for so long.

Your head was small compared to the man's hand that held it. The instinct taking over your body made you bring your arms to your belly, protecting the being that was developing there, while he dragged you to where Luffy was. As you approached, for the first time in a while you saw terror in your beloved's eyes.

"I see there have been interesting changes." The man's slurred voice irritated you more than usual. He lifted you off the ground and gave your stomach a little poke. "As far as I know, I bet it's a little straw hat."

"Let. Her. Go." the threat implied in Luffy's voice was different than most times. You remembered seeing him like this when a tenryuubito decided to hit Hatchan, but still, he seemed to have more hate in him than you had ever witnessed. "I told you, keep your hands off her."

"As you wish."

Disdain was present in the man's every attitude and in the same way that he had barely used his strength to lift you, he did the same to throw you meters away. With the wind against your body and the screams of your friends like blurs passing by you, you cringed and waited for the impact that didn't come. Instead, you felt something wrap around you and your body land against something soft.

When you opened your eyes, you found Luffy holding you, putting you on your feet even though he didn't let go.

"You're okay, you're alive, you're okay…" the words came out of his mouth like a mantra. It was like seeing relief and fear walking side by side.

As soon as his hands released you, you felt yourself staggering, being supported by someone behind you. Luffy's hands held your face delicately as if a breath could take you away. He took off his straw hat and placed it on you and one of his hands rested on your belly, feeling the agitation under your skin, which seemed to bring the lucidity he needed.

"Jinbe, take her back to the ship." Luffy didn't bother to look at his companion who had just approached, his eyes roamed your face in search of any discomfort. The hand that remained on your face wiped away a small tear that insisted on falling. "Take Chopper with you, get all the tests possible."

"I am fine." you tried to reassure him, seeing that your words had been in vain. "Baby, we're both fine."

"Zoro, protect them." Luffy asked and only then did you realize it was the swordsman supporting you. "Don't let anyone get close to them. Don't let anyone lay a hand on my girl and my son."

"Okay. Jinbe, you carry her. Chopper, stay alert too, but your priority is to get to the ship with the two of them." the mate gave the orders and before your feet left the ground, you felt Luffy place a quick kiss on the small gap between your forehead and the straw hat.

"Those who are left, don't let any of his idiots get out of here. I'm going to finish that bastard off." the last glimpse you saw of Luffy was of his hair turning white.

Something changed that day. The baby was fine, you were fine - enough for Zoro to restrain you and prevent you from returning to the battlefield. Lying on your bed, you curled up again, this time wracked with worries about your captain and boyfriend. Using the straw hat as your companion, you allowed yourself to close your eyes and wait. The sun was already gone when you woke up from your brief nap to feel arms squeeze you tightly.

"Lu?" you turned around and found him smiling, even if a little lighter than usual. Some scratches on the face, but apparently fine.

He took your lips voraciously, capturing them and holding them to his. Your hands soon tangled in the dark strands of his hair and gave him space to fit around your legs, but Luffy moved away.

"Chopper said you're okay, just scared, but you need to rest so our son can be okay too." the captain slid on the bed, until his face was aligned with your belly.

Luffy lifted the cloth that hid your skin and covered your belly with kisses, in silence. Your hands, which previously sought to get tangled in his hair, opted for a light caress.

"I promised to protect you two and today…"

"Today you protected us, love." you interrupted before he even considered finishing the thought. Taking one of his hands, you led him to where the child was kicking. "And someone agrees with me."

From that day on, you saw Luffy change and consequently, you did too. He no longer teased you about your strange diet and didn't even make jokes about the snoring you started to have every night or because you looked like a cuddly ball - except when he, with the help of Usopp and Chopper - tied a watermelon to his belly. and pretended to be you at the end of the pregnancy. Now the words you had said to him "I think this is the best treasure I could find" made more sense to him.

It was early morning when little Ravi was born. The sea water was more crystal clear than usual and your body was sweating cold even though the night was hot when the first contractions hit and lasted throughout the morning. Chopper had chosen Robin and Nami as assistants while Luffy remained there by your side, using the power of the fruit to avoid feeling the strong grip of your hand against him.

Along with the first rays of the morning sun, Ravi came into the world and illuminated Luffy's face. As soon as the boy stopped crying in his father's lap, it was like watching two long-lost friends reunite after so much waiting, Luffy didn't know that he had been waiting for this his whole life and now he knew that he would never be able to stay away from the boy. In a way, it reminded you of the way little Luffy looked at Ace with admiration when they were still children.

He took the feeling seriously since little Ravi became his father's shadow and Luffy didn't make much of a point of preventing the boy from doing something wrong.

"Luffy!" you screamed as you saw him about to throw the two year old into the air.

"But he likes it."

"Sun…Ravi." the little one mumbled a few things.

"See? He wants to reach the sun." Luffy laughed, throwing the child at a much lower height than he intended at the beginning, eliciting a laugh from the baby. "Who wants to go again?"

"That's enough, you two." You stretched your arms to catch the baby, who promptly reached towards you. "It's time for someone to eat!"

"Yay! Let's eat some good food, kid." Luffy ignored you and headed to the kitchen. Before he reached the door, you took little Ravi from him.

"Just little Ravi." you corrected him and saw him mumble.

With each passing year, he became even more like his own father, which meant double work for you. At least at 8 years old, Ravi still had a little more calm than Luffy.

"Zoro!" he walked across the deck to the swordsman "My father said he was going fishing."

"That's good, it means fresh fish for lunch."

"The problem is that the fish caught him. He hasn't come back to the surface for a few minutes." Ravi said without much concern. "Can I go get him? I know how to swim, I don't think my daddy can."

"What the fuck Luffy!" Zoro dropped his swords and threw himself into the sea, attracting his other companions.

"Do not even think about it." Nami warned the boy who was about to reach for one of Zoro's swords.

"But Nami…" he mumbled, lacking the patience to argue. In the same way that she imputed fear to the father, it worked on the son.

"They're too big for your age." you saw him mumble just like Luffy and you had to hold back your laughter.

"Ravi!" Luffy's voice attracted the two of you to the end of the ship where he was, soaked and being scolded immensely by Zoro.

"Wow dad, what a big fish. All this for us?" the boy poked the little monster lying in the deck.

"That's right." Luffy laughed alongside the boy. You thought it was adorable that their laugh was identical.

"Hey Sanji, I'm hungry." they both shouted. Apparently, the appetite was also similar.

Ace

Warnings: fluff, a little angst until Ace finds out, Marco and F!Reader are best friends. Ace just wants to be loved by his baby. And for the record, I know Whitebeard would be a badass grandfather.

"Wait…" Marco began, analyzing your figure standing there biting his nails in front of him. "I thought you heard me when I explained it to you. You know, condoms, medicine, yoi."

"I heard, but maybe I forgot one…" his critical look made you change your tone. "Okay, I forgot to use protection a few times."

"Sit there already." he gave up and waited for you to curl up on the stretcher. Once you did, you watched him prepare a small kit.

"Why do you keep a pregnancy test kit?" You tried to take the object from his hand, but the doctor quickly dodged it.

"I don't keep it." Your eyes watched him concentrate and insert the needle into your arm, drawing a small amount of blood. "You've only been vomiting for two weeks and you've also been refusing to drink with alcohol. I'm a good doctor, yoi."

"And now?"

"Now…" he dripped the blood onto a small white spatula and placed it next to you on the stretcher. "We waited, for five minutes."

"All of this?"

"I've been waiting for you to bring this up for two weeks, don't complain." he replied.

"I needed Ace to be busy or out of here." you simply responded, turning your attention to the clock hanging next to one of the cabinets.

For the remaining minutes you stood there, legs shaking from side to side and watching a Marco as anxious as you. As soon as the hand reached the long-awaited minute, the two of you turned to the test together.

“Two risks…” you started.

"Positive. Looks like I've been promoted to uncle!" the man smiled, containing the feeling when he saw your face.

"I'm pregnant." the phrase still sounded strange to your ears, so sudden and unexpected. "I'm pregnant." you tested again, trying to improve your expression.

"You're pregnant! Now we need to do some more tests to make sure everything is ok. Dad will be happy when he hears about this." Marco placed the test results on a table away from the two of you. "I suggest an ultrasound, it would also be good to see some blood tests."

"My God, Marco, I'm pregnant!" A certain happiness crossed your expression, eliciting a laugh from your closest friend and brother.

"Now you're ready to jump…"

"You are pregnant?" you both turned as you heard a third voice join the room.

Ace looked at the two of you, waiting for some kind of justification, but at the same time it felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. You were still there, the same girl he had left to follow to a nearby island a few days ago, but now it seemed different. There was almost a glow emanating from you to his eyes.

"Ace, can we talk?" your voice reached his ears, but his mind was in a distant place.

Ace took a few steps back, moving away from the small infirmary and disappearing from your field of vision. You and the doctor looked at each other, surely this was the last reaction either of you would have thought of having.

"Are you feeling good?" Marco's voice pulled you back to reality. "Hey, look at me, yoi."

"I need to talk to him." You ignored your friend's question and went in search of your boyfriend.

From his reaction, you knew you had two options and to solve the first of them, you leaned over and saw that the Striker was still docked and with no one around, you immediately ran towards your room, finding the door closed.

Two knocks weren't enough to get his attention, so ignoring any possible chaotic scene you were going to encounter, you entered the room unceremoniously. The idea of finding the room on fire crossed your mind, but was soon dismissed when you found Ace sitting on the bed, his face buried in his hands.

"Babe, please." You asked, trying to keep your tone calmer - despite the internal desperation in him hating you. "Please talk to me."

"Y-You…" his dark irises met yours and only then did you realize that your beloved's eyes were full of water. "I'm going to be a father?"

"My love, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." Urgently, you moved closer, holding his face in your hands. "I know it's kind of scary, but I promise we'll figure it out."

"No, no. That's not the problem." he sniffled, not allowing any of the tears to flow. His hand threatened to touch your belly and withdrew. "What if I'm not a good father? What if this child doesn't love me."

"Think about how much I love you Ace, how much you love me." you stated almost obviously, gaining his attention. "What can come out of here, besides love?" your hands found your belly for the first time after the discovery.

Your body was enveloped in a tight hug, his face was almost buried in your belly, while you caressed his dark locks.

"I love you so much." He turned to you, noticing the slight discomfort, he moved his chin away from your stomach. "Oops, I'm sorry."

"It's okay…Ace!!" you screamed as you felt your body hit the bed, now with him fitting between your legs.

When it came to loving you, Ace could be as hot as the fire that emanated from him, strong as the waves that insisted on crashing against Moby Dick. Except that day. His lips touched yours gently, his body didn't press against yours, just covered it lightly. The delicate kisses went down to your belly, being placed as if they always belonged there. His lips found your face again, his smile hovered over yours.

"We need to talk to Marco." he began, interrupting himself to allow his kisses to cover your face again. "I need to know everything that's going on."

"Well, you know now."

"Not this." he grumbled. "We need exams, to know if everything is ok with you two, we also need to know what a baby needs. My god, are you going to give birth here at Moby Dick? We barely have room for the two of us…"

"Calm down, stay calm." you asked as you watched him spiral. With his support, you got back on your feet, holding out your hand for him to get up. "I have a better idea of what we can do."

You expected some commotion, of course. Maybe even a few tears. You didn't expect to see Ace crying like a baby when telling Whitebeard that he was going to be a grandfather and consequently, bringing some tears from your old man and several other colleagues also shedding tears. It was good to know that your little baby would arrive surrounded by love.

The months that followed the discovery were more peaceful than you imagined and even though for a long time you had insisted to your father that there were too many men on that ship, you couldn't complain about being so spoiled.

Want to eat something different? Thatch had it ready within minutes of you ordering. Marco walked like a shadow behind you and Ace - this by his own choice and by Whitebeard's direct order, since on one of the days you were sick, you had almost killed the three men of the heart. It was adorable to see how Ace worried about the mission that was getting closer every month. More than once, you found him in Whitebeard's room, asking for tips on what to do with the baby, how to help you at this time and how he could be a good father. The idea of not being loved by his own son haunted him more than you might expect. Everything seemed great, except one detail: the two of you couldn't agree on the name.

The little baby decided to arrive a few weeks ahead of schedule, which caused widespread chaos on the boat. Ace was having dinner with the other commanders when your scream reached his ears, along with Whitebeard's scream that echoed louder than any earthquake he had ever created, prompting them to speed up the preparations for the birth. Apparently, immense pain arose when you and your father were talking, which led you to stay in the ship's medical wing for hours. Your screams were heard throughout the ship while Ace served as your support point. The little boy was born and if you hadn't been feeling so weak, you would have laughed at the screams of joy coming from outside the room as they heard his cries.

"Ace?" you called to him, who held you even tighter in his arms. "I think I have an idea for the name. Can you see if we can use it?"

You whispered in his ear, making Marco curious. Ace delicately left behind you, who was holding the little baby and ignoring the blood that still stained his hands, he left the ship in search of a specific person. A few minutes later, you saw your beloved enter the room again, accompanied by your dad.

"Can I take that as a yes?" you saw Whitebeard bend down to get closer to the baby. "Meet your grandson, Alev Edward Newgate."

If you were spoiled during your pregnancy by Ace, you couldn't imagine what it would be like with little Alev. The child was never alone - or at least walking on two feet. There was always one of his uncles who could pick him up and carry him around the ship. Marco, who called himself the child's uncle and godfather even though he had not been baptized, had already lost count of how many times he had to redo the serums and medicines he applied to Whitebeard, since Alev - with his grandfather's permission, used the height difference to make it like a little personal slide.

And Ace, who was completely in love with the little piece of love you two had brought to the world, even when he messed up.

"Papa!" you and Ace, who were playing cards with other friends, heard the child scream and a laugh soon after. You already lowered your deck knowing that it anticipated some new prank.

"What is it Alev?" Ace spoke loudly so the boy could hear him and know where he was.

You don't know how your blood pressure didn't drop or how Ace didn't have a heart attack when he saw the child in your not-so-calm and serene days coming twirling a burning cloth in one hand and in the other a lighter that only God should know where he found.

"Look papa, I can control fire just like you!" the boy rolled the cloth and you prepared to move forward and take it from him, but you were anticipated by Ace, who placed his hand exactly where the cloth would hit Alev's freckled face.

"You can't do that, ever again." Ace raised his voice, taking the cloth that was half ash and the lighter from the boy. "You are crazy?"

"But daddy, I want to be like you."

"That doesn't mean setting everything on fire, my little flame." you warned and saw the child threaten to cry. Ace noticed immediately, regretting the little scream.

"I can't believe you're such a crybaby." Ace said in a teasing tone, throwing the boy over his shoulder. "Does your grandfather know about this? He won't like having a crybaby pirate at all."

"No daddy, I already stopped, I already stopped." you heard your son mumble in the distance, drying his tears. "I just wanted to be cool like you."

"My son, you are the coolest kid ever." Ace let Alev slip out of his arms and hugged him, stopping him from reaching the ground. "You know I love you very much, don't you?"

"I love you sooooo much more daddy."

#fiction #one piece #reader insert #no use of y/n #requests open #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #monkey d. luffy #luffy x you #luffy x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas ace x you #ace x you #requested

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homestylehughes · 1 year ago

Text

4 times quinn wanted to kiss you, and the 1 time he did.

pairing(s): Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

summary: 4 times quinn wanted to kiss you, and the time he did.

warning(s): absolutely nothing, pure fluff.

wc: 2.1k

an: hi loves!!! before i say anything, i think this might be my favorite fic, i've ever written, i love it so so much. it was so nice to sit down and write another fic, I had the best time writing this. i know the poll i put out wanted the nico x Hughes sister smut but this idea has a hold on me and i had to write it today, but i'm working on that fic currently as well! i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i do, like and reblog If you do! much love always <3

happy reading <3

It had always been yn and quinn, quinn and yn, attached to the hip at 5 years old and neither of you wanted to let go. If you would have told Quinn that the little girl the jack pushed into the sandbox at 5 would be his best friend for the rest of his life, he'd think you're crazy. But here you guys are today starting the first day of college, together.

This wasn't exactly the plan for you guys, it just so happened you got into michigan, the same place quinn was signing to play hockey.

Today was the first game of the season for Quinn, even though Quinn had played hockey for most of his life, he couldn't help but be scared to step on the ice for his first college game. The nerves are getting the best of him as they line up, ready to headout on the ice for warm ups.

The first push on the ice takes away Quinn's voice as he looks around the arena at all of the fans in the crowd, his eyes glimmering with excitement as he takes it all in. his heart stops for a moment when he sees you standing in the stands with his family, dressed in his jersey, holding up a sign that says “number 43 is my favorite!”. Holding it high above you head, a wide smile breaking at across your face as look down at him skating on the ice.

A smile spreads upon Quinn's face, as he looks at you and his family. At that moment he really wanted to kiss you.

Quinns hands were shaking as he tried to tie his tie, his mind was everywhere else but where it needed to be. It was the day of the NHL draft, a night that would change the rest of his life and his families. He couldn't help but feel almost sick at the thought of moving to a new state or country, leaving everything and everyone he loved behind, including you.

After five attempts of trying to tie his tie, he dramatically sighs, dropping his hands away from his chest. Staring at himself in the mirror trying to peace himself together, coaching himself to take deep breaths. Just as he starts to tie his tie again, he hears a soft knock on the hotel door.

His mom had already ushered everyone out of the room around 30 minutes ago, telling everyone to give him some space. Quinn couldn't help but be annoyed at the fact that someone already was knocking on the other side of the door. Making his way to the door, his brain already settled on whoever was on the other side of the door a bit of hell for disturbing him.

Opening the door slowly he sees you standing in the hallway, with a small smile on your way as you look at him. All of the anger he had harbored in him, immediately disappears when he sees you.

“Hi, i'm sorry to interrupt but i thought i'd just come check on you” she says

“You weren't interrupting anything, thank you for coming and checking on me.'' Quinn says, pausing for a second clearing his throat.

“I actually could use a bit of help, i can't tie my tie.” he says a little embarrassed

“I can help, if you let me in your room, or we can stand here in the hallway whatever works best for you” yn giggles out.

“Oh shit, i'm sorry come in '' he quickly says, his face heating with embarrassment. Yn quickly walks into the room, quinn shutting the door behind her.

“Sit on the bed” she quietly says to him, quinn doesn't need to be told twice when it comes to her, taking a seat on the soft bed, leaving his legs slightly open, allowing you to stand in between them as she works on his tie.

Their faces and bodies are so close together, his eyes catching hers for a moment. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to pull her on top of him and forget about the draft, forget about his future. Because at that moment, he really really wanted to kiss you.

Quinn woke up to a constant banging on his front door, rolling on his side to see that the clock on his bed side table read, 3 a.m. “who the fuck is knocking on my door at 3 a.m?” Quinn thought to himself. Quinn trudging pulls himself out of bed, walking slowly downstairs hearing another round of knocking once he reaches the bottom of the stairs.

Finally reaching his front door, he doesn't even bother looking through the peephole before opening the door. Opening the door he's met with a rain soaked yn on his front porch with flowers in her hand and a suitcase at her side. Quinn thinks he's dreaming as he looks at her, still half asleep.

“You know i think i forgot how much it rains in vancouver during the summer, as you can see im soaked” yn chuckles out. “Also how dare you not tell me you were being named captain, I'm very upset that I had to find out through an instagram post. But I'll get over that because I missed you, so I flew all of the way here to surprise you.”

“OH! These flowers are for you” she says, holding out the slightly weeping flowers in front of her.

“I promise they looked better, the rain…ruined them” she says smiling sadly at him.

“I'm so sorry i woke you up with the banging, my phone died and i don't have a key-”

Quinn quickly cuts her rambling off by pulling her into the tightest hug known to man, spinning her around, as if he never wants to let her go.

“I'm so happy you're here” quinn says, as he sets her down, his arms wrapped around her.

“I'm so happy I'm here too.” yn says, looking up at quinn, he can see something in her eyes, love maybe? He’s not sure, but what he is sure of is that he really wants to kiss her, and it's killing me everyday that he hasn't.

They lost. They lost. They lost in game seven, their playoff run was over. All of their blood, sweat and tears couldn't help them win this game. Quinn couldn't help but let the weight of loss fall on his shoulders as they skate off the ice. The walk to the locker room felt like an eternity. The room is quiet as the players strip out of their gear. He couldn't help but let a few tears fall as he got undressed. Feeling like he let his team, his family, the fans down.

Quinns mind couldn't focus during the press conference, giving the reporters one to two sentence answers. He didn't want to be there, he wanted to think about anything else other than hockey. He wanted to cry alone, he wanted the voices in his head to stop, he didn't want to be here.

After the press wraps up, Quinn quickly grabs his things heading out the locker room, as he turns the corner he sees you sitting against the wall, quickly turning your head when you hear footsteps down the hall, making eye contact.

Quinn had completely forgotten where even at the game, the loss of the game, completely taking over his mind.

“Yn, what are you still doing here?” he asks as he reaches her, offering her a hand to get off the ground.

Wordlessly she takes his hand, pulling his bag out of his other hand placing it on the ground below them. Before wrapping her hands around his neck pulling him down into a hug, Quinn's arms instantly wrapping around her waist, his body melting into hers. His face resting in her neck as he feels tears fall out of his eyes, as he clings to her body.

They stand like this for a few minutes, quinn’s tears finally settling before yn pulls back, running her fingers under quinns eyes wiping away his tears.

“I'm so proud of you, win or lose. I'm so so so proud of you Quinn, please never forget that '' she says, holding his face in between her hands.

“I love you” quinn mumbles out as he begins to cry again.

“I love you more” she says, “now let's get you out of here, i think you need one of gina's world famous burgers hm?” she says, grabbing his bag from the floor. Holding her hand out for him to grab, Quinn doesnt waste a second before sliding his hand into her as they head towards the exit.

Quinns head is no longer filled with thoughts about the game, about hockey. It's filled with thoughts about you, about how much he loves you, and how badly he wants to kiss you.

+1.

Quinn can't count on his hands how many times he's been to the lake house during the summer, but each time he does it better than the year before. Making new memories with the people who he loves, making new memories with you.

Quinn insisted that you come to the lake house with him a week before everyone else did, he wanted to spend as much time with you before everyone else got here, and you couldn't say no to that.

So this brings you to where you guys are now, sitting on the boat in the middle of the lake, watching as the sun sets across the sky. The sky casting hues of pinks and purples across the lake. Quinn couldn't help but look at you as you stare at the scene around you, seeing you look so relaxed and at peace, he couldn't help but smile.

“I can feel you staring at me” yn giggles out, still looking at the lake in front of her.

“I was just taking in the scenery” he says

“Mhm, and that just happens to be my face?” she says, turning to look at him with a smile that matches his on her face.

“Maybeee” quinn playfully says.

“Well it's creepy so stop it” she says playfully rolling her eyes at him

“And what if I don't?” he asks

“I'll feed you to the sharks”

“Pretty girl there isn't any sharks out here” quinn says laughing at her

“Stop laughing at me” she says, sending a quick shove to quinns shoulder, causing him to fall back against boat.

“Oh that's it” quinn days before launching himself at her, pinning her down before his hands start to attack her sides.

“ QUINN PLEASE NO” she pleads out to him as he tickles her. Laughs fell from both of their lips as they attacked each other.

“I CAN'T BREATH” yn laughs out as Quinn tickles the skin behind her neck, knowing its sweet spot. Deciding to give in to her pleas, he stops his attack on her neck. Her chest rising steadily as he looks down at her, her lips slightly parted, the plump skin almost looks like its calling is name.

Before he knows what he’s doing, he slowly lowers his face closer to hers, softly connecting their lips together in a sweet kiss. Yn kisses him back almost instantly, her hands wrapping around his neck pulling him closer to her. The once soft kiss turned hot and desperate quickly, a tension they've been dancing around for years, as finally broken like a dam, and neither of them wanted to stop.

Neither of them wants to pull away, but the need for air begs them too, Quinn pulling away first causing you to whine at the loss of contact. Looking at her with swollen lips and love filled eyes.

“I've wanted to do that for awhile” quinn says

“How long?” she asks as he works hard with the hair on the bottom of his neck.

“Ever since i saw you for the first time”

“Quinn we were five” she laughs

“I knew what I wanted at five,” he laughs, pushing a piece of hair out of her face. “And i've known that i've always wanted you” he finishes

“I love you” yn says

“I love you more” he replies

“I don't think you do” yn quips back

“Let me show you how much i do” quinn says before connecting their lips back together, because at that moment quinn wanted to kiss you, and this time he did.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #quinn hughes fic #qh43 #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #vancover canucks #quinn hughes x y/n

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 6 months ago

Text

Part I

Word count: +4300

Warnings: SA, abuse (kinda Cinderella vibes), almost rape, seriously 18+ please🙏

This was written only because few scenes, that will be in the next part, is occupying my mind for weeks now and I need to get rid of that to make space for anything else. At this point I have no idea what to do with this anyway. I have potential villain/s and that's it. Nothing more - I still didn't get much further, only a hazy outline of story that could work, but it's still more than I had when I started to write Heal me

This most likely isn't up to everyone's taste and it's a bit raw and harsh (like winter), but who knows. You might like it nonetheless

Hopefully it will help me get rid of whatever is eating on me since August, so I can again be productive and write something..different Anyway, enjoy🫰

Edit: as I read it after a long time I surprised even myself.. in many ways =_= Where did this come from - seriously? Sorry if there are still mistakes. I usually do at least five rounds of checking before posting anything, but this.. I can't possibly do another round. Don't tell me I didn't warn you. 18+ really!

Let's start new year with angst 😵‍💫

Part II

I stood by the window, wrapped in warm fur. My eyes roamed over the crumbled ruins of houses disappearing under layer of heavy snow behind the inner walls, icicles longer and thicker than my forearm, glittered in sun. Silver snowflakes danced above that graveyard of half-fallen stone walls that were sticking up like black fangs surrounded by pure whiteness.

These lands used to be prosperous and lively, dozens of families lived under the governance of my father, the lord whose family was assigned to protect the border with Autumn Court. Because of the good relationship with the lords on the other side of border, father's family used to be one of the strongest and most important in entire Winter Court. But that was story of past.

Everything started to crumble when my father took a lady from Autumn as a bride. Like ice and fire, people of Winter never fully trusted the wielders of fire from Autumn, despising them; looking down through the fingers at my poor mother. Rumours spread faster than plague, infecting every heart on its way. Nobody cared they were true mates, it didn't matter.

The day I was born was the day when everything went to Hell. People started to leave, moving to who-knows-where. When my powers manifested for the first time, they started to run away in big groups until just few were left behind, mostly only vassals and families of staff at our castle. Fire wielder born in Winter.. it was as if my father brought in a demon disguised as one of them. As soon as I started to notice and understand the side glances, the disgust and even the rage on faces of faeries around me, I swore to never again use the magic circling in my veins and buried it deep down. Of course, every act against the nature demands a price to be paid. My price was almost constant migraine and often nose bleeding, yet it was better than using the powers.

I was three when my mother suddenly died. She was weak and unwell ever since I was born and the harsh blizzard that hit whole Winter Court that year, was too much for her; or that's what I was told. She was always cold and it caused her a great suffering - something we had in common.

During the following months my father was rapidly withering and aged a lot during that time, refusing to eat until I burst into tears, scared he would leave me, too. That broke him and finally, he ate. He started trying, living to take care of me.

In his efforts to protect me and save the name and position of our family, when I was ten, he married a widow with son from prestigious family. The boy was eighteen at the time. Ever since they started to live with us, I felt his intensive gaze glued to my back anywhere I went. I tried to ignore it, really tried, but it was getting worse and worse lately.

Faint sounds of jingle bells scared away pictures of the past and all dark thoughts and I straightened up, watching the horizon. At first I saw nothing, only blinding whiteness. I squinted, listening carefully. No, it wasn't a cry of cold wind, that were really jingle bells and they were quickly getting closer. And then I finally saw it.

Pair of reindeer passed through strait between the steep mountains that were protecting this valley, hauling huge sleight seemingly made of the polished ice. When they reached the first ruins, I recognised the emblem of High Lord's family at the sleigh's side. I immediately rushed from my bedchambers and ran to father's study at the ground floor. By the time I reached its doors, the sleigh were already passing the gates.

"Father!" I heaved. "We have guests! Message from the High Lord!"

Father looked up from the stack of documents, slightly startled, putting down the glasses. "It must only seem to you, sweetheart. There's no way-"

"Guests! We have guests from capital!" My stepmother shrieked as soon as she opened the doors. Then she noticed me and wrinkled her nose in disapproval. Despite my father's belief, she never liked me nor considered me her daughter. She managed to suppress her hate in presence of him, but she never omitted the oportunity to hurt me, verbally or physically. "I thought that you are unwell when you didn't join us for the breakfast," her lips curled into cruel grin. "You look well to me."

"I saw royal sleigh from the window," I mumbled, averting my eyes. She hated when I even merely looked at her. Once she claimed that the disgusting fire in my pale eyes burnt her and punished me for it. Whether it was true I didn't know. Except of the fire magic, I looked like a normal High Fae of Winter Court. My long white hair had slightly silver shade, my skin was pale and eyes had color of frozen river.

Father stood up and swiftly headed to doors. "If it is so, we have to welcome them accordingly. Where's Zima? Are maids preparing the refreshments?"

"I instructed them to brew the best tea we have and prepare some warm refreshments on my way. Zima is training, but I sent butler to call him in," Morena replied as she hurried after father. I followed after them, keeping my distance.

The second she mentioned him, her son appeared. He observed the situation and his cold, almost white eyes landed on me. He took his time as usual. It felt as if he was trying to peel off all of the clothes from my body. Cold shiver ran down my spine and I tugged the fur cloak even closer.

"I was told that we have visit from capital. Is it true?" his raspy cold voice caused that I instinctively cringed.

"Yes, dear," Morena looped her hand to his arm, excited. "Royal family's ignored us for years now! This has to be some good news finally!"

My father sighed. "I have bad feeling about it.."

Chirping, Morena led Zima to the foyer. I matched my steps with father. "It certainly will be okay. No need to worry," I smiled gently.

Father only pressed lips into thin line. We arrived just as the sleigh stopped at the stairs and importantly looking male in thick fur cape got out.

"I'm Isen, High Lord's main advisor," he said without paying any respect to us. He was looking down the length of his nose at us with frown, then his eyes slowly wandered all around the mostly empty, dark and cold hall. Compared to the High Lord's castle, ours had to look like a nest of poor villagers to him. That much was clear from the strict lines around his mouth that only deepened. "I brought a message from His Highness. Can I have a word with you, lord Cherith? In private, of course." His gaze stopped on me and one of his brows raised as he surveyed me from feet to head with almost interest.

I held my breath, looking down as ethics dictated. However, he wasn't the only one looking at me. Morena's rage was staging into me like daggers and my stepbrother's sick possessiveness made me feel even more uncomfortable.

Father's brows knitted with worry and he cleared his throat.

"Yes, sure. Please, follow me to my study."

"How about a cup of warm tea?" Morena offered with sly smile.

"There's no need of tea. I don't plan on staying here long," the adviser declined coldly.

Morena paled and froze on spot. "As you wish, your-"

They were gone before she finished the sentence, the soft click of doors echoed in hallway. She turned to me, baring her teeth.

"What was that? What have you done to catch his interest? You little witch!"

"I did nothing," I tried to defend myself, already knowing what would follow.

She grabbed my elbow harshly. "Come!"

I was resisting, but she pulled me all the way to the closest lounge. Zima followed without word with perverted grin. He loved to watch my punishments. He locked the doors and warded them.

Morena pushed me to the table. "Pull your skirts up!"

"But I did nothing bad, I-"

"You dared to look at me with your dirty eyes today. That alone is enough good reason for punishment! Hurry up, if you don't want it to get worse."

Tears stung my eyes. No matter what I would do, I wouldn't get out of here without punishment. Even if I tried to call for help, all staff at this castle ignored me. I couldn't ran from this, so I did as I was told.

Zima stepped away from the doors for better view and his mother took out thin wand she was hiding in her skirts. As usual, she whisked the back of my thighs until she drew blood.

I bit on my lower lip, suppressing the cries of pain, my fingers fisted the edge of the table. I wouldn't give her such satisfaction. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks - that was the only sign of my protest.

When Morena was done with me, she simply left, immediately losing interest in me. Though, my punishment wasn't over. Zima was still in the room. I suspected that his mother knew very well what he was lately doing to me, yet she never stopped him, never told him anything.

"Don't dare to move," he hissed as he stepped even closer.

His trousers fell down and I could hear strange noises from behind. Thankfully, I didn't see him nor what he was doing there. Nevertheless I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, the worst part was just about to come yet. My fingers balled into fists. I could feel his hand on my legs, his fingers digging into my flesh as he groaned. And then it started. He pressed his hips against my clothed back, rocking back and forth as something thick and hard poked me, sliding down my underwear and between my thighs. Both of his hands landed on my sides, holding me down. I held my breath trying to block his disgusting moans and groans. Once a single sob escaped me, I was unable to stop the following ones.

I didn't know how long it took until he finally groaned for the last time, something wet covered my inner thighs and he pulled his trousers up. He leaned over me, whispering into my ear, slightly breathless. "One day, you will be mine. Truly mine. You can't escape me. I'm looking forward that day."

The doors closed behind him and I shivering pulled my skirts down and fell to my knees. I curled into a ball on the floor and cried. The stinging pain of beating slowly subsided as the shallow wounds healed. However my soul was behind the point of mending for years now. I had enough of this. I couldn't take it anymore, but what could I do? Where could I go to get rid of my stepmother and especially of her disgusting son. Bile rose in my throat and I crawled to the window, pushing it open.

The freezing cold air filled my lungs and few snowflakes landed on my cheeks, mixing with the tears that already started to turn into ice. This kind of pain was welcome. At least for a moment, I could forget. I sighed heavily. What kind of life would I have if my mother didn't die? I wondered. She for sure wouldn't let anyone treat me like this. For her, I wouldn't be nuisance nor the monster.

The sharp pain split my head and my vision went black. I hissed, massaging my temples even though I knew it wouldn't work. A wave of nausea made me empty my stomach. I again closed the window and wrapped myself in the fur cloak. Slowly breathing in and out, I sat down and waited until it got a bit better.

After a while I heard hurried steps at hallway and dared to peek out. It seemed that the lord Isen was done here, leaving. I hurried to the foyer, wiping my mouth and adjusting my appearance.

"I hope that you understood the instructions and you and your family will act according the High Lord's will," I heard his reserved voice as I got closer. My stepmother and her son were already there, waiting. Morena seemed to be confused, but she didn't even look my direction as I joined them. Her son narrowed eyes on me in malice. However, it was my father who worried me. His shoulders were slumped, he was paler than usual, terror and pain marking his face.

"Yes," was the only thing he said. Lord Isen immediately turned away without second glance at my family. His eyes landed on me for a short moment though and he was off. Reindeer shook their heads, ringing the jingle bells and the snow creaked as the sleighs moved.

"What did he come for?" Morena asked the second the entrance doors were firmly shut.

My father only shook his head and his sad eyes searched for me. "My sweet little girl, can you accompany me for a while?"

I was already eighteen yet he still called me like that. My heart filled with love. "Sure, dad." I took his big, warm hand and he led me back to his study.

"What's going on?" Morena demanded, following us, her son at her heels.

"Later. I'll tell you later," father stopped them with a simple gesture.

We walked down the hallway in silence. Father locked the door of his study and pulled me into a tight hug. He let out a shuddering sigh.

"What happened?" I asked softly, holding him just as close.

Father was still silent. When it already seemed that he wouldn't answer, he took a deep breath. "High Lord thinks that it's time for his heir to get married," his voice was strangely raspy. "And he chose you to be the bride."

I froze in disbelief, lump raising in my throat. I felt sick again. "Me?" My voice was weak and shaky, mirroring my terror. "Why me?"

"I thought it's long time forgotten and royal family already crossed out our name from the family tree," he sighed, leading me to the small sofa near to the hearth with flickering flames. "Long, very long time ago, royal family needed someone reliable to protect our Court from the Autumn as the natural barrier of mountains didn't seem to be enough. The High Lord decided to entrust such important task to his cousin who he was very close with. He gave him new name and extensive land at the border. It's a position that is inherited in our family for generations now."

Even though I understood what he was implying, I still didn't see the reason why to choose me. Father had to read it in my eyes because he squeezed both of my hands in his big one and smiled sadly.

"High Lord needs to strengthen the position of the heir and the royal family. Unfortunately, there isn't any suitable lady between their close relatives, so he decided to call upon our ancient bonds and wants you. The noble families in power aren't very reliable these days and keep plotting against the royal family. But we, despite everything, still keep on our oath and serve well, so High Lord counts on our loyalty now."

I swallowed hard. "Do-.. Does he know about..?"

Father nodded. "He knows about Evalyn, your mother, but that's all. He, as the rest of the court, has no idea about your powers. By your appearance, he probably assumes you took after me."

"If he finds out..?"

"I tried to object," father sighed heavily, tears shining in his eyes. "Unfortunately, it isn't a proposal. It's an order. You are the only reminder of my beloved Evalyn I have. I swore to protect you, my little girl, but the moment you get married, I won't be able to fulfil the promise... I can't even imagine what will happen once young Kallias or his father finds out about your magic."

He pressed face to my hands, cool wetness trickling into my palms. "I thought I have enough time to find someone kind who would love you and take good care of you somewhere far from this Court. Somewhere where you could live freely without being looked down. But I failed you.. I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry, my precious child.."

His words were breaking my heart and I wept with him. He was trying so hard for me all these years. Because of me he lost almost everything, yet he never blamed me for it and always thought so dearly of me. And now, he was even apologising.

"Please, don't, papa." His shoulders trembled and he started to cry even harder. "You protected me whole my life."

Suddenly, he raised his head, pale eyes wild. "You have to go. I'll send you to your family in Autumn Court. They will hide you - royal family won't be able to forcibly take you. Not without risking a war. We can say that you ran away. Yes. That could work." He stood up, pacing.

"Papa, no," I stood up too. "You can't do that! Royal family could take it as a betrayal and punish you for that."

"Who cares what will happen to me? As long as you are safe, everything would be okay."

I hugged him, crying to his shoulder, willing him to understand.

"I care, dad," I sobbed. "I won't allow it. I'll rather go to Mountain Home and endure it. I will live as up to now and-"

"You can't not use your powers for the rest of your life. It's too dangerous. It could kill you. It's already causing you so much pain."

I looked him into the eyes, determined. He was my only living family, the only person I held dear in my life. I wouldn't let anything bad happen to him. I couldn't. "No! I can do it. I wil go!"

* * *

It was already late at night when I finally returned to my bedchambers. I was exhausted. It took some time to persuade my father, but at last he agreed. It hurt so much to see him in such a state, so sad and broken. However, there was no way around this. I had to do as I was ordered by High Lord and marry his son, Kallias.

At dinner, father broke the news to Morena and her son. Morena made a big scene, but over all she seemed happy to get rid of me. Zima took it seemingly calmly. He didn't say a word and frowning stared at his plate with dinner he hadn't touched. I had a bad feeling about that, his words still ringing in my ears.

One day, you will be mine. You can't escape me.

Maybe this wedding was the getaway from this situation I prayed for, given by the Mother herself. The question was whether it was reward or different form of punishment though. Anyway, I had no saying in it and had to obey.

After the dinner, I spent the rest of the evening at father's study, talking with him about everything and nothing. He wasn't a drinker, yet he opened a bottle of wine and offering me a glass, we gazed to the flames in hearth until we grew too tired and called it a night.

I reached for the door handle of my bedroom, the metal cold in my hand. I twisted it and opened the door, already excited to dive under the thick and warm comforter while soft crackling of fire would lull me to sleep. I halted as the gust of freezing cold air rolled out from inside, biting into my flesh. I suppressed the urge to tug the fur cloak closer and looked around, or at least tried to. Curtains were closed, the room was completely dark except of few last coals in hearth. I heard movement from somewhere near my bed, soft rustling of the sheets. Someone or something was here.

A pale big hand with long fingers shot out from the darkness, grasped my arm and pulled me in. The door closed with loud click, followed by the sound of lock. I was trapped. I was so scared I couldn't make a single cry as I was nudged backward and fell on the bed. The person straddled me, trapping me under their heavy body, hand on each side of my head. The smell of strong alcohol filled my nose.

"You can't escape me."

I cringed at the hoarse deep voice, the voice I knew. Whole my body started to shiver. I clenched my teeth, but even that couldn't stop their chatter. It was Zima, my very drunk step-brother.

"You are mine and you always will be."

His cold fingers wrapped around my throat, slightly squeezing as if testing it. Then they slowly slid down to my chest and under the dress, leaving a burning pain wherever his skin met with mine. He yanked on the collar with such strength that the fabric had torn. The freezing cold clenched its claws into my skin and I cried out in pain and horror.

"I won't let some brat to take what is mine. To touch what belongs to me. This all is mine, only mine."

He sounded like a crazy man. His cold hands cupped my breasts and pushed them together while his face nuzzled between them. His wet tongue licked my skin and sucked on my nipple and I cried and screamed. The pain his cold touch caused me, was agonizing, much worse than the horror of being so helpless. I tried to push him away, punching his ribs and anywhere I could reach, yet it seemed he didn't even notice.

I was dizzy and nauseous. Just when I thought I wouldn't be able to take it anymore and faint, the doors in connected sitting room opened and a maid called out.

"My lady, your father is sending you a tea! I brought also your medicine!"

Zima stilled, listening.

"My lady?"

He cursed and his weight disappeared. The window on the other side of room opened, letting in even more of the coldness and he was gone. I managed to sit up and pull the fur cloak over the torn dress with trembling fingers just before the door opened and maid peeked in.

"My lady..? For Mother's sake!" she wailed. "Why it is so freezing cold here? My lady, are you okay? Why is even the window ajar?"

It was Lucy, a young maid who began to work here just recently. Unlike older maids, she was very kind to me and often came to help me dress or brought me a tea. She immediately ran to the window and shut it close, locking it. She turned on few lights and add logs to the hearth. When the fire came to live again and flames started to dance over the log, she rushed to me.

"My lady, are you all right? You are so cold and shivering. What happened?"

I tried to hold it back, but when she started to rub my arms and back to warm me up, I burst into tears.

"I'm so happy to see you, Lucy."

"Everything is okay now," she comforted me. "What happened?"

I cried even harder. I couldn't tell her. I couldn't tell anyone about this. Who would believe me anyway. And the moment my father would find out.. I didn't even want to think how he would react. It would break his weakening heart for sure. I didn't want to lose him. He was my only family.

Lucy just pressed her lips together and brought in the tea.

"Here. Drink this, my lady. It will warm you up."

I reached for the cup. The fur cloak a bit loosened and Lucy gasped.

"My lady! Your neck! You have frostbite all over your throat!"

The breath hitched in my throat, panic rising. I had to come up with something and very fast. If she noticed that it was in shape of a hand, that my dress was torn and the wounds on my chest.. She was clever girl, she would piece together what happened.

"I-it's nothing. It will heal in no time. Could you prepare me a bath, please? I'm really cold."

She nodded, but her gaze lingered on my neck, brows furrowed.

"It's only good that you will leave soon," she mumbled and left.

I swallowed hard. She knew. With such, all servants probably knew, yet they never said anything. They never helped me nor said anything to my father. When it came to the servants who worked here since before I was born, it wasn't so surprising. They couldn't care less for me. However, when even those who came recently, didn't say a word.. well.. It had to be because of Morena. She most likely threatened them all.

Dread washed over me. Maybe after all it was really good that I would leave soon. If only to get rid of Zima and his mother. But what about my father? What would happen to him after that? More I thought about it, more restless I grew. If only father could stay in the capital with me.

That night I couldn't sleep. The bath helped a great deal and warmed me up, yet I couldn't stop shivering, jolting at the slightest sound. The wounds healed really fast, however my heart needed much longer.

Most of the time before the day of the wedding, I spent locked in my chambers or with father in his study. I couldn't relax even when Lucy told me that Zima left the castle and wouldn't be back before I would leave. Last days at my home I spent in constant state of alarm and haste, preparing to leave my old life and to survive the new one in capital with faeries I'd never met.

And at last, the final day of my current struggles came.

#high lord of winter #winter court #winter #kallias x reader #kallias x viviane #kallias acotar #kallias #acotar #sarah j maas #acotar fanfiction #before acotar #acotar x reader #first person #acotar angst #the angst #autumn court #snow

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fourmoony · 2 years ago

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Heya I have a request <3 I've been thinking about Remus having a crush on muggle reader because he sees her walking her dog all the time when he's reading in the park or something and sirius stepping up as wingman and running up to her in animagus form forcing pretending to be Remus' dog and forcing him to talk to her

love your blog btw!!! <3

ah, thank you so much lovely! thank you, as well, for requesting - i love this idea! hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it :)

1.3k remus x fem!reader fluff language

masterlist

There's a man running towards you full pelt.

He's waving his arms, an exasperated look on his face as he huffs and puffs, cheeks crimson from exertion and the cool November breeze. You would be concerned about the fact he seems to be running straight in your direction, clearly past caring about how crazy he looks as he ignores the turned heads of other dog walkers, but it takes you maybe two seconds to deduce the dog - Padfoot, if his collar is to be believed - leaning against your hip is his.

Your own dog, Nova, has already made herself comfortable with Padfoot, sitting happily underneath his chest while you scratch the behind of his ears. He's the biggest dog you've ever seen, you think, up to your hip, standing.

Padfoot doesn't seem to be bothered in the least that his owner is clearly so upset by his apparent disappearance, the large black dog only tilting his head to look up at you, pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. You can tell he's full of personality and mischief, even if he's only been at your feet for a minute or so.

The man comes to a gradual stop, resting his hands on his knees and bowing his head to catch his breath when he's in front of you. You smile kindly, still scratching the dog's ears. Padfoot isn't complaining. The man looks up, a weak sort of smile about his face and you notice that it pulls a scar above his top lip taught. He has a number of them on his face that you can see. One running across the bridge of his nose, under his right eye, and another along his left jaw. They make him no less beautiful, by any means. He's handsome. Pretty. Gorgeous.

It's actually kind of intimidating.

His hair falls in soft curls across his forehead, where you can see the tail end of another scar cutting through his eyebrow, and it's a dirty, sort of sandy blonde that brings out the hazel in his eyes. He's tall and lanky, and the oversized woollen jumper he's wearing hangs from his frame in a way that suggests it wasn't bought for him. He's staring at his dog with such distain you wonder if this is a regular occurrence.

"You," He looks at the dog, eyes narrowed, and then seems to remember himself, "I'm so sorry. He's usually better behaved."

The way he talks, looking at Padfoot, and the way Padfoot reacts, lifting his head in a manner that bleeds defiance, anyone might think the two are actually capable of holding a proper conversation. You smile, amused at the situation, "He's okay. Seems like him and Nova have become fast friends."

Your own dog, a brown, little spaniel puppy, is sitting between Padfoot's front legs happily. As if he can understand, Padfoot drops his head on top of Nova's and almost crushes her with the sheer weight. The man laughs, seemingly resigned to his fate with his mischievous dog.

"Right. Well, again, sorry." He looks entirely bashful, cheeks a beautiful shade of pink.

"No problem, honestly." You wave him off.

The man turns to go back whatever way he came, calling out for Padfoot who remains defiantly still. He calls after him again, growing slightly frustrated, before resigning to his fate when Padfoot circles you once, twice, and then entices Nova into walking slightly ahead along with him. You smile at how tiny she looks compared to the massive black dog, weaving playfully in and out of his feet as they go. He doesn't seem to mind.

"I suppose he's not ready to part with her, yet." He chuckles, holding his hand out towards the two dogs in a gesture - shall we?

You chuckle lightly, "Apparently not."

You tell him your name, and he tells you that his is Remus. It's a nice name, uncommon, you suppose. But so is his accent. Welsh, maybe? It's definitely got a twinge of something. It's endearing. You walk together through the park, along the trail, letting Nova and Padfoot lead the way. Padfoot keeps Nova out of trouble, leading her away from the other leash-less dogs that the four of you pass. There's multiple strange looks from the people you pass, clearly fascinated with Nova and Padfoot and their ridiculous size difference.

"How old is he?" You ask, nodding your head towards Padfoot, who's nosing Nova back onto the dirt path instead of allowing her to run head first into the surrounding forrest.

He's incredibly smart.

"Uhm," Remus falters, lets out a breath you assume is a laugh intended for himself, some sort of inside joke, likely, "He's twenty one."

"Oh, so he's three?" You ask, brows furrowed in confusion.

Remus hums, amused, "Something like that."

"How old is Nova?"

"Eleven months. She's still a little shit sometimes, won't take to her recall training for love nor money." You tell him.

Remus nods along, listening amicably, a smile on his face, "Bit like that bugger then?"

You share a laugh, kind eyes and appled cheeks, shoulders brushing as you walk together. Remus is nice. He's tall and handsome and he's genuinely interested in holding a conversation, despite the fact that it's your dogs who have forced you along together.

"So, what do you do for a living?" Remus asks as you round a corner, passing a couple of determined hikers heading towards the hillier trails.

You both offer them passing smiles, and one comments on how cute your dogs are. You and Remus thank them both, looking fondly at Padfoot and Nova who are happily trotting along in front, sniffing and exploring.

"I work in a little art museum out by the marina. It's quiet and cozy. What about you?"

"I own a book shop with my mate Sirius," Remus tells you, "Quiet and cozy."

You giggle at the repetition of your answer, the car park that signals the end of the trail coming in to view. The sight drops like a lead balloon in your stomach. It's strange, the feeling you get of not having wanted the trail to end, to spend more time talking to Remus. He seems to feel the same way, because he takes a deep breath, teeth sliding over his bottom lip when he notices the carpark, too.

"Did you," He falters, unsure, so you offer him an assuring smile, hope that the look in your eyes tells him you're going to say yes.

He grins back, nodding as if you've passed a silent message between you, "Did you maybe want to get coffee, sometime? Or dinner? Maybe another walk?"

"Yes, Remus. I'd like that." You nod.

Remus looks chuffed, eyes bright and twinkly, cheeks rounded with the force of his smile. He still manages to look entirely too handsome even when he's bashful as he pulls out his phone and hands it to you, a contact form already waiting. You put your number in, your name, too, and hand it back to him.

"I'll text you?" He asks.

You nod, "Text me."

Remus whistles for Padfoot, who actually complies this time, as you bend down to reattach Nova's leash. You say your goodbyes, promise to talk soon, and then go your separate ways to your car.

You're smiling to yourself the entire time you clip Nova into place, talking animatedly to her about how well behaved she was with Padfoot and you almost miss it when you shut the door, look up and notice the car Remus got into just moments ago is driving past. Your brain tells you to put your hand up and wave, but he hasn't seen you, he's too busy talking - or yelling, it looks like - at the fully grown man in his passenger seat.

He's gone a second later, pulling out of the car park as you stand there, dazed, mouth opening and closing like some sort of fish.

"What the-"

#marauders #remus lupin #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin oneshot #marauders fic #marauders fluff #james potter #sirius black #love #lily evans #fluff #fourmoonys asks

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mmmichyyy · 8 months ago

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if you’re still taking prompts, 53+94?

#53. "take off your shirt."

(1.6k words of ian being a lovable dumb idiot and mickey going along with it)

it was a spur of the moment decision. one minute ian's getting off his shift, the next he's pushing open the door to the tattoo studio he passes by every day just around the corner from his apartment, a sign blaring MILK in bright neon lights welcoming him.

"hey," ian greets the overly-pierced girl sitting at the front desk. "do you take walk-ins?"

the girl snaps her gum. looks him up and down. "are you looking to get pierced or inked?"

"uh, inked." ian fidgets with the hem of his sleeve. "something small, on my arm, maybe. i don't know what i want, though. i haven't really... thought it through."

"well, all our artists are busy right now," she says, unbothered, handing him an album and a clipboard. "so if you don't mind waiting, flip through our flash book and see what kind of design you want, then fill out the consent form when you're ready."

ian nods. "should i wait here or..."

she points down the hallway. "room three is empty right now. i'll send one of our artists over in a bit for a consultation."

to ian's relief, the studio isn't like the grimy tattoo shop he went to a couple years ago. from what he can see, the place is kept clean and sterile, everything neatly organized and spotless. he settles into the leather-cushioned chair and aimlessly flips through the album, eyes glossing over page after page of designs.

honestly, he has no idea what he wants. he doesn't even know why he's doing this; why he wants a tattoo memorializing someone who was barely a fleeting presence for his entire life. how do you sum up a whirlwind and a hurricane? how do you solve a problem like monica? he and his siblings always jokingly asked each other.

but there was always a hint of despair, an unsaid sliver of yearning every time monica was brought up, because... how? how?

which is the very reason why he can't talk to his siblings about any of it - everyone has their own complicated relationship with monica, but no one wants to acknowledge them out loud. their mom is dead and all she left behind are faded memories, paper cuts on their hearts, and a couple kilos of meth.

...and now ian is getting a tattoo for her. go figure.

the longer he sits, however, the more his self-doubt starts to creep in. he starts to wonder if it's too late for him to back out.

"you my seven o'clock?"

ian looks up and finds a man staring at him curiously. a man with dark slicked-back hair and pale skin and a single silver bar piercing above his right brow, framing clear blue eyes. swirling intricate designs run down his arms and disappear underneath a tight black t-shirt - one side all colour, the other black ink only.

shit. this guy is fucking hot.

immediately ian's mind goes blank.

"uh... yes?"

"cool." the man closes the door. "name's mickey. did you fill out the consent form yet?"

mickey. the synapses in ian's brain short-circuits. "not yet...?"

mickey nods, as he heads towards the sink in the corner of the room. "you can fill it out while i set everything up. is this your first time?"

"no." ian lets out a breath and picks up the pen attached to the clipboard. "i've done it before."

"really." mickey surveys him up and down. "i don't see any."

ian winces, glad mickey can't see the patriotic eagle under his shirt. one of his many regrets, unfortunately. "it's um... hidden."

mickey's brows furrow for a moment, before his eyes light up. "ah. gotcha, man."

ian's not sure what to make of mickey's reaction - but he doesn't trust his mind to not say something dumb to who just might be the hottest guy he's ever seen standing in front of him, so he keeps his trap shut and quickly fills out the form before handing the clipboard over.

"so," mickey looks down at the form, "ian. do you know which side you want it on?"

ian blinks. "side?"

mickey blinks back at him. "right or left?"

ah. which arm. "left. i need the right one for work tomorrow," ian jokes.

mickey gives him a strange look. "sure."

ian watches as mickey snaps on a pair of black disposable gloves, then sets out some needles in sealed packages on a silver tray. he didn't think mickey would be a stick and poke kind of artist instead of using a tattoo gun, but at this point ian could care less the method in which he gets inked.

"you nervous?" mickey asks, noticing ian's fidgeting fingers in his lap.

ian lets out a breath.

"kind of," he admits. "my mom... she died recently, and i wanted to get something small to remind me of her."

"you..." mickey pauses. "you're doing this for your mom?"

"why?" ian asks, getting a bit self-conscious now. maybe mickey has seen a lot of his clients regret getting tattoos for their parents. "you think i shouldn't?"

"it's your choice," mickey replies slowly. "if you want something to really remember someone by, then this will do it."

ian lets out a breath. "yeah," he nods. "let's do this."

"take off your shirt, then," mickey says, and ian's brain once again goes offline because of course it does. "i'll sterilize the area first and then we'll get started."

in hindsight, if mickey was just some average-looking guy or literally any other person at all, maybe ian would've caught on earlier. do his due diligence and change the fire alarm batteries in his head, instead of letting the warning bells beep incessantly. he might've thought to himself hey, that's weird, why do i need to be shirtless if i'm getting a tattoo on my arm? and before i confirmed what design i want? when i don't even know what i'm getting? hm? hello?????

but alas, because clearly all rational thoughts have been thrown out of his head (did he have any to begin with?), he quickly unbuttons his emt uniform shirt and tosses it over the side of the chair. subtly yet not so subtly flexes his arms a bit, because hey, why the fuck not? he works out. he's fit. sue him for wanting to show off a bit.

except nothing, absolutely nothing, could've prepared him when mickey wipes a cool, stinging alcohol wipe across his left nipple.

ian yelps. practically falls out of the chair and almost lands on his ass. mickey just stares at him, gloved hand still held up.

"i– uhhhhh– look, there must be some misunderstanding–" ian sputters, feeling his cheeks heat up. "i'm getting a tattoo on my arm, not my, uh...."

"nipple?" mickey supplies, the corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards.

ian wants to die.

blames himself for thinking with his dick. or rather, not using his brain at all.

either way, he wishes he could pass away on the spot. cut the brakes. burst into flames. end it all, right there and then.

before he can say any parting words and then forever perish from the mortal realm, he feels something drape over his shoulders. looks up to mickey a mere breath's distance away, covering his shivering back with his shirt.

is that a smile on mickey's face? or is ian being delusional once again?

delusional. definitely delusional.

"sooo,” mickey drags out the word, “i guess you're not my seven o'clock nipple piercing appointment?"

ian shakes his head as he hastily buttons up his shirt, ignoring the heat filling his cheeks. "i guess there was some kind of mix-up, the girl out front told me to go wait in room three."

mickey rolls his eyes. "i swear sandy messes up on purpose just to fuck with me. how hard is it to keep track of three rooms?"

"you didn't think it was weird someone would need their right nipple for work? or that they want to get something pierced for their mom?" ian asks, a little incredulous.

mickey, ever full of indifference, merely shrugs. "hey, i don't know your life, man."

there's an awkward lull in the air. ian's eyes dart towards the door, hoping he can make a quick exit and then, perhaps, find a cliff and walk off it. "well, i'll just go then..."

"come back tomorrow night," mickey cuts him off, to ian's surprise. "you said you wanted something small, right? mandy's the best at doing fine line shit, she can help you design whatever you're thinking of."

"sandy, mandy, mickey. what, are you all related?" ian jokes weakly.

"cousin and sister," mickey shrugs. "it's a whole family affair up in here."

"okay," ian nods slowly, watching mickey turn on the tap to wash his hands. guess he’ll postpone his cliff walk for another day. "i'll come back tomorrow then."

just as ian’s about to bolt out the door, he hears a soft hey call out to him. when he turns around, he almost gasps when mickey’s standing directly behind him, and quite nearly has an aneurism when mickey reaches out his fingertips to straighten out his collar, blue eyes directly staring into his soul.

"don't take off your shirt for her though," mickey says, and ian's breath hitches. "bitch doesn't deserve a free show."

before his brain could stop his mouth from running (seems to be a common occurrence today), ian asks, "you liked what you saw, then?"

mickey pats ian's cheek twice, then steps back. "i don't hook up with clients, as a general rule."

"well," ian can't keep the hopeful tone out of his voice. "maybe after tomorrow then, when i’m not a client anymore?"

this time, ian knows he's not being delusional.

mickey's lips are definitely curved into a smile.

“guess you’ll just have to wait and find out.”

#five months later i finally finished this ficlet #they're both dumb (affectionate) but i love them #gallavich ficlet #michy ficlet #my words #gallavich fic #ian x mickey #gallavich

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merxcywritesthings · 6 months ago

Note

I really love the vampire that got me laughing. Also, can there be a part 2 where Reader started to explain her story to Vi and Caitlyn. Vi feels heartbroken and started to hug her girlfriend and Caitlyn did the same thing. In the next morning, Vi and Reader was hanging out and going to a date in Zaun since Zaun and Piltover have been coexisting. Reader was excited and went to get something for Vi but then Vi was encountered by 3 men and started to walks Vi and she was ready to fight. But the 3 men was about to attack her but they heard a gust wind from behind them and saw a women who was smiling menacing and then her eyes started to change into red and her hair went to white and she started fight like crazy by breaking their bones with her arms and legs. The last man was about to attack her from behind but she disappeared and she did a spinning kick in his face and he flew to wall with a huge impact that will crack. Vi was stunned once again and she grabbed Reader and started kissing her. She said, “ I freaking love you.” Still in her vampire form she smiled.

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔈𝔫𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔯’𝔰 𝔙𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢

A/N: I love your ideas! Sorry it took me so long to write this, I’ve been busy with other requests, but I never could forget yours! <3

Word Count: 0.7k

TW: Murder and Fighting.

Reader is a female!

Remember to stay hydrated and eat plenty of food, you are loved!

You took a deep breath, your glowing red eyes dimming slightly as you began your explanation. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” you said, your voice shaky but earnest. “I swear, Vi, I would never hurt anyone… anyone innocent, at least. I only feed when I absolutely have to, and I always make sure it’s—”

“A rat?” Vi cut in, her tone a mix of disbelief and lingering panic. Caitlyn raised an eyebrow but remained silent, her rifle still lowered.

You nodded quickly. “Yes. I don’t hurt people unless I’m forced to defend myself. Please, Vi, you have to believe me.”

Vi’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she processed your words. She wanted to believe you—desperately so—but the sight of your fangs and the memory of the blood dripping from your lips were still fresh in her mind. Yet, as she stared into your trembling eyes, the same eyes she had fallen for, her resolve softened.

Cautiously, she stepped closer, her fists clenched at her sides. “You should’ve told me,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t care what you are… but lying to me, hiding this from me…”

“I was scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I thought you’d run if you knew. That you’d—”

Without warning, Vi pulled you into a tight hug, cutting you off mid-sentence. The sudden warmth of her embrace made you freeze for a moment before you relaxed into her arms, relief washing over you.

“I’m mad,” Vi muttered against your hair. “But I still love you. Damn it, I still love you.”

Caitlyn, who had been silently observing, sighed and joined the hug, albeit a little awkwardly. “I’m… glad we’re not dealing with a murderous vampire,” she said dryly. “But we’re going to have a long conversation about this later.”

The three of you stayed like that for a moment, the tension in the air slowly dissipating.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

The next morning, Vi and you decided to spend some time together in Zaun, where the two cities of Piltover and Zaun had finally begun to coexist. The air was thick with the smell of oil and metal, but you didn’t mind. It reminded you of home.

You had planned a surprise for Vi and had run off to grab something, leaving her to explore the bustling streets on her own. She leaned against a wall, watching the eclectic mix of Zaunites go about their day, when she noticed three men approaching her.

“Hey,” one of them said with a sneer, “you look like you don’t belong here, Enforcer.”

Vi straightened, her fists instinctively clenching. “You really want to do this right now?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

The men chuckled, circling her like wolves around prey. “What’s an Enforcer doing down here all alone?” another jeered.

Vi was ready for a fight, her gauntleted fists sparking with anticipation. But before anyone could make a move, a gust of wind rushed past, and a familiar figure appeared behind the men.

It was you.

Your eyes gleamed crimson, and your hair turned stark white as a menacing grin spread across your face. “You’re messing with the wrong person,” you said, your voice dripping with predatory amusement.

Before the men could react, you launched into action. You moved like a whirlwind, your arms and legs a blur as you disarmed and incapacitated the first two men in a matter of seconds. The sickening sound of bones breaking echoed through the alley as you tossed them aside like ragdolls.

The third man, desperate and terrified, tried to attack you from behind. But you disappeared in a flash, reappearing above him mid-spin. Your kick connected with his face, sending him flying into the wall with enough force to crack the stone.

Vi stood frozen, her mouth slightly agape. She had seen you fight before, but never like this. You turned to her, still in your vampiric form, and wiped a speck of blood from your lip.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice calm and concerned despite the chaos you had just unleashed.

Vi didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she grabbed you by the collar and kissed you, hard and passionate. When she finally pulled away, she grinned breathlessly. “I freaking love you,” she said, her eyes shining with admiration.

You blinked in surprise before breaking into a wide, fanged smile. “Even like this?” you teased, gesturing to your glowing eyes and white hair.

“Especially like this,” Vi replied, pulling you close again.

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢! 🧛🏻‍♀️

𝐷𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 @𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑦-𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐𝑠

#arcane x reader #vi x reader #vi x you #vi arcane #arcane

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easy-a-b10g · 24 days ago

Text

Chapter Two: What it takes to be a hero

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Hello here are your crumbs sorry, I'm having a lot going on lol, I'm so sorry y'all this is kinda edited but again not really, it also seems really rushed imo but the episodes are so short there really isn't much more I can write 😭😭 -A

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With Izuku missing and Nova injured, it takes all her strength to make it to the Hero's to find help, only to be thrown into something much bigger than herself.

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Waking up was a slow start.

The ringing in her ears came first, loud, harsh, obnoxious ringing. Everything around her felt muted, like her surroundings were closing in on her she tries to move but to no avail. It's dark, pitch dark she can't see a thing, or feel, the only feeling is suffocation.

Breathe she can't seem to get herself to breathe. It's like shes drowning lungs, eyes and ears all burning with the feeling. Water surrounds her like a silent killer, waiting and watching like a predator about to pounce.

get up

There was something itching in the back of her mind, something important, something she couldn't quite place. Think. Think. But thinking only bought on more pain.

Pain.

Get up

Why is she feeling pain? Where is it coming from?What happened? What's happening? Where is she! How'd this happen!?

Get Up

Search, thinking, feeling, for anything to try and find a source of salvation from this torture.

Suddenly it all stops.

GET UP

The water drains and the panic subsides, and she can finally breathe. The burning suffocating feeling in her lungs disappeared but the fear remained it was still dark, so so dark.

All that remains is a harsh riveting pain. One that begins at the base of her spine spreading and shooting through all her nerves.

GET UP NOW.

Her eyes snap open in and instant sunlight streaming directly into them. Shutting them just as quickly as she had opened them, she tries to think, but she can't. Her head hurts, her back hurts, everything hurt.

She tried to move but no dice, the pain just keeps getting worse with her movements. She was able to peek her eyes open slightly to try and check her surroundings. All she could see was a pedestrian crossing sign above her head.

Pedestrian crossing??

In that split second it all came rushing back to her, School, kacchan, Izuku, walking home, the sludge monster, Izuku, getting hit, the sludge monster...

Izuku.

Where is izuku.

More importantly.

Where is the villain.

What the hell happened.

She has no idea how long she has been lying there, she's hoping it hasn't been long, it's still daylight out so It couldn't have been too long, right?

It takes at least 10 minutes before Nova finds the courage to move again. Pain shoots through her entire nervous system as she moves about but she manages to get herself into an up right position.

Looking around slowly she assessed her surroundings. It dawns on her that she's still where she was when she presumably got knocked out. Her head hurts something fierce and her throat burns like hell, why she doesn't know. She's scared and confused and worst of all, Izuku is nowhere to be found. This frightens Nova more than the idea of being passed out on the side of the road.

She slowly tries to stand up but she immediately regrets it, stumbling as a sharp pain flares up her left leg, forcing her back to the ground. Her head is spinning and her ears are ringing, she sits and collects herself for a moment, taking deep calculated breaths.

Opening her eyes she carefully looks around once more for any sign of izuku, a bunch of Izukus things are on the ground scattered in different places around her. Things she knows for a fact that Izuku would never voluntary leave behind if he had the choice.

His backpack for one was a limited edition All Might golden age backpack that Izuku saved up for, for two years. There was no way in hell he'd leave that behind. Nor would he voluntarily leave his hero trading cards, he has been collecting t since he was at least 6 years old.

Nova spends a moment trying to get herself to stand back up despite the pain and when she does her leg starts to throb just as much as it did before. But she can't worry about that, she has to find Izuku. She pushed through the pain and slowly limped to all of Izukus belongings and picked them up one by one. She looked around for any more clues on what could have happened and the only thing she sees is the flipped over manhole cover in which she assumed is where the villain came from, or escape into.

From what she can remember she tried to shove Izuku out of the way of that.....thing, then she was hit in the chest by it and then ....waking up on the side of the road. Nova couldn't stop thinking about all the possibilities of what could be happening to him right now. She was trying not to freak herself out, she decided the best thing she could do was go home to Inko or no maybe a police station or-

*BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM*

Nova nearly jumped out of her own skin. The noise was so loud she thought something had dropped or crashed not even 10 feet from her. The noise made her notice the ringing in her ears as is got worse by the volume, she probably has a concussion, the explosion made the ground beneath her feet shake violently. Nova started spinning around to the best of her ability trying to look everywhere and anywhere, trying to find the source of the sound or anything in relation to it, and when she finally turned to her left she saw a plume of black smoke billowing into the sky from a distance.

Bingo.

If she's going to get help anywhere it's there. She knows heros and police officers alike will show up no matter what the commotion is, and she could get the help to find Izuku in no time. Even though her leg was on fire she forced herself to walk on it hoping to get there quick because deep down she was freaking the fuck out.

Her journey was slow and painful, since school and work were out there weren't maybe people walking around. The people that did see her gave her odd looks but they all kept to themselves mostly, one by one passing her as if she didn't exist.

Novas head feel like it's splitting in two, there is no way she doesn't have a concussion of some sort. The villain had sent her flying pretty far from where she and Izuku originally stood and he hit her quite hard if her leg had anything to say about it. The strength of the villain surprised Nova as he seemed to be made of nothing but liquid she had noted from the brief glance she got of him. If the situation where any different Izuku would already be analyzing and writing in his notes about the villains quirk.

Nova trudged one for at least 30 minutes before she was able to make it to the cloud of smoke, it was billowing up from the Tatooin Shopping District and said smoke was billowing into the sky worse then before. Looking up from her spot behind the crowd Nova could see why.

There were heros, police, and firefighters, everywhere, yelling and shouting orders at each other and at the near by civilians. Everyone was yelling and screaming in panic, trying to flee the terrible scene. The sounds of glass shattering and wood burning could be heard loud and clear. Fire raged everywhere, licking up the walls of the Shopping District destroying anything and everything in it's path.

*BOOM*. *BOOM* *BOOOOM*

Nova had no time to think before some heros came billowing right towards her. She tried to grab one of their attentions, she tried to flag them down and let them know this isn't the only terrible situation happening right now. But in that moment they didn't care about her they cared about the fire, about the people, about the visible threat in front of them, they all ran past her without a second glance before the bigger of the three heros speaks up.

"Look, it's taken someone hostage, how dare you pray on a child!" The hero threw himself into the fray to try and stop the villain.

A child, could it be Izuku?

Please don't let it be Izuku.

Nova shoves herself to the front of the crowd to try and get a better look. But the view she got was not one she would ever hope for.

The seemingly liquid sludge monster that had attacked Nova and Izuku was here causing a rampage, he must have got himself cornered to try and go on like this. The villain kept moving, the sludge that is his (body, quirk??) looked like it encasing what one the heros said was a child.

"Ha! Stay back, or I'll snap his neck!"

His

He said HIS neck

Oh God, Oh God Oh God Oh god, Izuku!

But that thought was soon squashed by the desperate hollar of none other than Katsuki Bakugou.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH

YOU PICKED THE WRONG GUY TO MESS WITH!

IM GONNA SEND YOU BACK TO WHATEVER SEWER YOU CRAWLED OUT OF!

LET ME GOOOOOOOOOO!"

Bakugou was growling and snarling like and animal caught in a trap thrashing and squirming trying his best to get free.

The child thought to be Izuku is actually Bakugou. How did this happen? Where's Izuku? How did Bakugou get attacked? Is Izuku ok? All these thoughts and more circulate in her mind. She can't seem to slow it down. Bakugous screaming and usage of his quirk wasn't making matters any better. His explosions breaking glass and setting fire to the surrounding area.

It looked like the heros were having hell of a time trying to rein this villain, on the account of his sludge body, nobody seemed to posses the right quirk in order to stop him. But it's only a matter of time before he could seriously injure Bakugou or one of the heros.

Through all the noise Nova could hear the villain conversing with Bakugou "Man I really hit the jackpot, with a quirk like yours under my control, I can take All Might down with one punch." The villain was laughing and cackling like he had just said the funniest joke on earth.

More and more heros are arriving on the scene, heros like Mt Lady and Kamui Woods, who only show up to realize how useless their powers are for the current situation.

Bakugous quirk was throwing the whole district up into flames without him realizing or caring. He may have been defending himself but his explosions were making matters worse, an they aren't calculated their random and spontaneous at this point he's just trying to escape not to fight.

By now a large crowd had accumulated in front of the scene and Nova has forgotten her original plan. She is frozen in fear, all she can do is stand and stare at the helpless Katsuki Bakugou as he fights for his life right in front of her eyes. The crowd is getting restless. "Why hasn't anybody captured this guy yet?" "What's taking so long?" "Why are they just standing around do something for Christ sake!"

Bakugous movement were becoming slow and sluggish, he's been struggling for the last 5 minutes against this sludge, Nova can't imagine she'd last even half that time suffocating under all that sludge. Bakugou tries to turn his head away from the monster and when he opens his eyes Nova heart drops.

Katsuki Bakugou the bully, Katsuki Bakugou the strong outstanding student, Katsuki Bakugou the student so sure in his abilities he's been bragging for weeks about getting into the best hero school Japan has to offer, was standing before her with a look of defeat and something else something that screamed 'help me please, I'm scared'.

Her body moved before she could think, disregarding the pain that flared through her entire body Nova did nothing but trudge forward. Putting one foot in front of the other she sprinted toward him. Why...she doesn't know Bakugou has never been nice to her always calling names and throwing punches why should she care what happens to the town bully. But she moves regardless.

"No you idiots! Stop, your going to get yourselfs killed!" Nova could here the heros yelling and screaming but she didn't listen all she did was continue on.

Idiots....plural??

"Are you nuts what are you doing here?!"

Turning her entire body Nova visablly deflates, standing before her is none other than Izuku Midoryia, unruly hair, bright eyes, and same old freckles shes been starring at for the past 10 years of her life.

Before she can quip back Izuku shoves Nova off to the side before shot putting his hero notebook into the villains face hitting him square in the eye. This stunned the villain, only temperaly allowing Bakugou to breathe. "What the hell? Why are you two here?" Bakugou screamed in frustration Nova had no answer so Izuku answered for them both. " I don't know. My legs just started moving." At this point both Nova and Izuku are clawing helpessly at the villain in hopes to get a grip on Bakugou.

With Izuku confession Nova found her own voice " Just because I hate you doesn't mean you deserve to die fuck face what kinda hero would turn a blind eye to their enemys pain, I'm not just going to stand around and watch you die!"

Bakugou doesn't respond to them only screaming at the villain to get the fuck off of him. The sludge villain raises his hand once more to strike and its not in slow motion, shes been told near death experiences slow down time and how your life flashes before your eyes. The latter may be true but the former certainly was not everything is sped up ten fold. The villains hand comes down in an instant and in that second Nova manages to pivot on her feet to grab izuku shoving him to the ground, throwing her body over him like a shield, bracing for impact.

Nova eyes are squeezed shut and all she can hear his Izuku soft wines and whimpers. He smells like burnt mint and eucalyptus a nasty combination from the normally clean smelling Omega. As time goes on and the blow never comes Nova finally removes her head from Izukus shoulder thought still keeping Izuku down in case something happens. What she doesn't expect is for the Number one hero her and Izukus idol, to be standing right in front of them, seemingly having protected them from the villains mighty blow.

"I really am pathetic, I told you the traits that make a great champion, but I see now I wasn't living up to my own ideal. Pros are always risking their lives! That's the true test of a hero!"

What he was talking about Nova had no idea but all might had effectively gotten a hold onto Bakugou as he made his little speech.

"DAMN YOU ALL MIGHT!" the sludge villain screams in deafeat as all might yells out his infamous,

DDDDEEEEETTTTTRRRRRROOOOOOIIIIIIIITTTTT

SSSSSSSSMMMMMAAAAAAAAASSASSHHHHHH

It takes one mighty blow from the hero to send the sludge monster flying, breaking up the villain into multiple tiny fragments the force of the punch not allowing him to pull himself together. With his other hand he held Bakugou, Izuku, and Nova back so they also didn't scatter into the wind.

All Might kneeled on the ground first in the air in honor and a silence fell over the the crowd behind him. Before the exclamations of surprise started breaking through. "Woah what was that" , " Hey is that water, wait is that rain?" "Rain, it, it can't be." "Don't tell me all that wind just now was...?" " Look at the clouds they're moving!"

* Holy crap he just changed the fucking weather* Nova stared at the hero in amazement and wonder as water started falling from the sky. All Might stands up with a proud smirk on his face. The crowd goes absolutely wild men and woman alike hollering in surprise and awe. "He changed the weather with a single punch like it was nothing!" Said one Pedestrian" , "All Might saved the day again, he amazing!" Said another. All Might raises his fist in triumph and the crowd roars in approval and it seems like All Might is enjoying the attention.

Novas attention although was stolen from the amazing hero when Izuku tugged on her sleeve. Turning to face him his reaction was not one she had been expecting. She expected tears, many many tears, and snot looots of snot. But what she found was a face full of excitement and wonder one full of determination and drive.

As the heros collected all the scattered mounds of sludge and the villain went into police custody where he belonged, Nova and Izuku were getting chewed out by the heros, big time.

" You morons, do you have a death wish?" Yelled Kamui Woods

" There was absolutely no reason for you two to put yourselves in danger like that!" Deatharms screamed

This when on for sometime but Bakugou was getting quite the opposite. Bakugou was praised for his bravery in such a situation. He was receiving compliments left and right even gaining sidekick offers from some wannabe heros.

When the heros finally decided to stop yelling at them they had to make statements on what happened and get checked for injuries. The pain she has felt before dulled to a slow ache as time went on and the paramedics couldn't see nor feel any injuries so she was sent on her way, against their better judgement Nova was not going to go to the hospital, the bill would absolutely kill her even if it wouldn't be much she needs all the money she can get right now and a hospital bill certainly wont fit into the budget.

After about and hour or so they were finally free to go. Within the last hour Nova finally figured out what had happened to Izuku when she passed out. Apparently the sludge villain has popped up out of the manhole cover hence why it was flipped. Turns out the villain was using the sewage lines under the city to traverse from place to place. After he knocked Nova unconscious he had tried to steal her body just like he tried to do to Bakugou, but when the villain was nearly done All Might himself had popped up out of the sewers following his trail and had blown away the sludge villain for the 1st time around and when All Might tried to leave to take the villain to the police apparently Izuku had a better idea.

"I still can't believe you left me unconscious on the side of the road to ask All Might a freaking question!" Nova fumed as she and Izuku finally made the trek home " I mean I understand why you did it it All Might for Christ sake, but for real Izuku I was unconscious, I could have been seriously injured." Izuku sulked like a child being scolded. Nova has been apart of many villain attacks in her city, either just really bad luck or the universe must really hate her. Either way villan attacks were a common thing for her but it did sadden her that she wasn't a priority in the situation given the circumstances but she's used to it.

"Nova I'm so so so sorry I never should have tried to stop him if I didn't Kacchan and all those innocent people wouldn't have been attacked and those businesses wouldn't have been burned down and this is all my fault I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry I'm such a terrible person."

(note: I am aware Izuku Midoryia would never leave a defenceless unconscious woman on the side of the road just to talk to All Might but this is just for plot purposes 😋)

" Izuku, Izuku, IZUKU!'

His rambling finally stop as his mouth snaps shut with an audible clink of his teeth. " You had an opportunity to talk to All Might of all people and took it." Izukus eyes filled with unshed tears, " It's ok really Izuku if you think about it I was only out for 10 or so minutes anway so it not like I was in any real danger." The words sting because anything could have happened to her in those 10 minutes, another villain could have shown up, or a drunk alpha with nasty intentions could have taken advantage of her, she's actually very lucky. "I'm ok now are I?" The question does little to sooth Izuku so she pulls out her last resort. Humor. "Alright if you really want to make it up to me, you'll just have to be my human shield when the apocalypse inevitably starts. "

Izuku blinks one, twice, and then he snorts loudly and obnoxious, "This is not the time and place Nova." Thought as the words come out Izuku can't help but try to hide his smile. " Well hey I say it's fair and square." Izuku raises his brow " Fair? If we're doing Fair then I should be your shield for 10 minutes max!" Nova and Izuku stop walking and they only stare at each other, before they burst out into obnoxious laughter.

"I wish I could have apologized to All Might for making him drop that villain, if it weren't for me Kacchan wouldn't have another reason to hate me, I guess I can always just say something on his website when I get home." Izuku speaks with a dejected tone, and Nova doesn't know what to say to that because he's right it is his fault if he wasn't so selfish he wouldn't have grabbed onto All Might as he tried to spring away and the villain would have never attacked another person.

Coming to the forked path of Okiqa road Nova and Izuku stop. "Seriously though are you ok whatever that villain was doing looked like it really hurt, are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital?" Nova has a nasty thought pop up before she squashes it down with a cough *Where was the concern when I was unconscious?*

"Yeah I'm all good zu, nothing a good night's rest won't fix!" She tried to stay cheerful but at this point her facade was slipping. "Well I guess I'll see you tomorrow!" "But..." Before Izuku could utter another word Nova starts down the left side of the forked path while Izuku slowly ebbs into the right one keeping and eye on Nova until she is out of sight.

Novas walk is silence except for the constant buzzing of cicadas, the low songs from the birds of the night, as well as the sound of her feet dragging against the gravel road

And then she hears it, loud obnoxious huffing and stomping making its way towards her. Looking up to find it source she comes face to face with Bakugou Katsuki who is no doubt on his way home from the whole fiasco himself. "Hey, we need to fucking talk!" Bakugou stands and pants heavily like he'd just ran a marathon. "Listen I would never ask for two weaklings like you to help me, don't think you can look down on me especially that deku."

Nova scoffed and rolled her eyes " Yeah cause being saved by All Might himself is totally handling it, but continue."

Bakugou seethes, " HUH? THE HELL DID YOU SAY, I WAS FINE ON NY OWN GOD DAMMIT YOU TWO DIDNT DO JACK GOT THAT! I WAS FINE BY MYSELF!"

" YOU GOD DAMN HERO WANNA BES WOULDN'T EVEN MAKE IT AS RENT A COPS!" Bakugou iS huffing from his outburst and is shaking with pure anger. "You didn't help me, you did nothing, because you are nothing, don't forget that, I don't owe you anything!" And with that final statement he pushed past Nova like she didn't exists and continues to stomp and huff as he walks away. Leaving Nova confused and slightly hurt, she understands she didn't do much, but hell she did more than what most the heros did combined, so fuck him and his temper tantrum.

Nova didn't need his bullshit, she didn't need it at all.

All she needed now was a bath and a goddamn nap.

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