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purple-plum-petals · 8 days

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⊱ You Can Do Better Than Me ⊰ || Boothill X Reader

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Boothill (Honkai: Star Rail) Reader Type: Human, Not the Trailblazer (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Break-up (Miscommunication/Assumptions… Not Permanent), Negative Body Image/Self-talk (Regarding Boothill), Use of Petnames (Boothill calls Reader “darlin’” and “sweets” and Reader calls Boothill “honey” and “love”), Slightly Suggestive Ending. Genre: Drabble, Angst, Fluff (Hurt/Comfort), Pre-Established Romantic Relationship Word Count: ~2500 words Prompt: “What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” Author’s Note: Hello everyone, I come back to you briefly with a random Boothill drabble because this cowboy has been on my brain for the past three months and I needed to get something written for him ASAP. I actually got both him and his lightcone on release day, so I’m still hyped about that (didn’t even need to break my F2P status either hehehe 😎). I will get around to writing a multi-chapter fic for him as soon as my summer semester is over and all of the current requests in the ask box have been answered. I’ve been managing the workload relatively well so far, but it’s genuinely been so overwhelming in terms of content/information that my brain can barely form coherent sentences after class and work. 😭 Anyways, have some self-conscious Boothill and my beloved hurt/comfort. Maybe instead of saving the horse, we should save the cowboy. Also… let me know if anyone is interested in a part two, and I’ll be happy to write it. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Tag-List: @anonima-2 – I know you wanted me to tag you if I got around to writing a Boothill X Reader fic, so here it is! It may not be a multi-chapter one, but I hope you enjoy this little drabble.

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated! ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

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You had known Boothill for quite some time now. You had crossed paths with the elusive Galaxy Ranger throughout the years, so many times that you eventually lost count. Three times was uncommon, five times was rare, but over twenty times? That was absolutely unheard of given the vast expanse of space. It got to the point where you both noticed how frequently you would meet, the two of you making jokes that the universe was pushing you together.

Boothill had thought for a while you were sent to capture and/or kill him by the IPC but, after a particularly intense “discussion” (where he proceeded to hold you at gunpoint, as he frequently did with most people), you were able to confirm that all of the times you two had met were indeed just an exceedingly rare coincidence. It was something you would occasionally bring up to tease him about nowadays, poking fun at the fact he had literally held his future partner at gunpoint. It was a memorable event to reminisce on when asked by others ‘how did you two meet?’.

Years had passed since that unforgettable interaction, and both you and Boothill were happy and content in your current relationship. All of that time together with him had given you insight into how the cowboy typically behaved. He could be brash and rush into trouble head-first, but he was also immensely intelligent and could think of a plan on the fly to get himself out of even the stickiest situations. He was the type of person who frequently spoke his mind, not allowing his tampered-with Synesthesia Beacon to completely censor what he wanted to say… which is why you were as worried as you were lately.

Your boyfriend hadn’t been as talkative as he usually was. He had returned from a three-month-long trek around the galaxy a few days ago, and he had been distant ever since he came back. His replies had been clipped, and he had a strange look in his eye whenever he glanced your way; he hadn’t even looked at you for more than a few seconds since his return.

Tentatively, you made your way over to where he was sitting by an open window in your home, the breeze gently blowing the strands of his black-and-white hair to and fro. You stepped closer to stand next to him as you asked, voice tender as you spoke, “Boothill, honey, what’s wrong? You’ve been more reserved than usual these past few days, and I just want to check to see if you’re ok–…”

Then, he spoke, his voice firm as he cut off the rest of what you were going to say, “…I wanna break up.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach at his words, and you felt your palms begin to clam up with sweat as you whispered, “W… What?” You swallowed harshly, stepping closer to him as you asked, double-checking to see if you had heard him correctly, “What did you just say?”

“I said I wanna break up.” He says once more, voice rough as he turns his head ever-so-slightly to watch you from his peripheral. It felt like the world had stopped moving when he confirmed what you had always hoped you would never have to hear, and you feel your eyes begin to water. He finally, after so many days, looks at you directly after what has felt like eons. Whatever expression was on your face caused him to flinch before he looked away once more, staring at his hat on the nearby table.

Boothill sighs and runs a hand through his hair as he continues to speak, his voice gentler than usual as he tells you, “I don’t think this,” He pauses, taking his hand and gesturing toward himself before finishing his thought, “…is good fer you.”

Your emotions were fluctuating so quickly that your mind didn’t know what to do with all of them. First, you were worried about your boyfriend, then you were heartbroken when he said he wanted you two to go your separate ways, and now? Now you were angry, a sudden burst of frustration filling your veins at his reasoning behind wanting to end your relationship. Your heart aches as you exclaim, trying not to pay attention to the wetness forming along your lashes, “Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?”

Boothill is back to refusing to look at you, so you try to move into his line of sight as you ask, your hands flailing about as you speak in a desperation-laced tone, “What, exactly, isn’t ‘good for me’ Boothill?”

He turns his head to look at you, standing up from where he had been sitting as he holds his hands out, trying to placate you as he says hastily, “Listen don’t – don’t get the wrong idea, alright?”

“How can I not get the wrong idea when you suddenly tell me you want to end our relationship!?” You yell back, feeling the tears begin to trickle down your cheeks. You were angry, sure, but the soul-crushing feeling of separating from the man you loved so deeply pierced your heart like a knife. Your frustration quickly began to be tainted with sorrow, your voice coming out softly as you ask him, your mind desperate for some kind of answer as you place a hand on your chest, “Did I… Did I do something for you to come to this decision?”

Panic floods his expression immediately as he reaches out, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to look at your face. He quickly tells you, one of his hands coming up to gently cup your cheek as his thumb brushes away your tears, “No, no, no, no – you didn’t do anythin’, darlin’. You’ve been perfect in every way, I just…”

He pauses, gaze traveling to the ground as he thinks of what to say. His cold, metallic fingers against your skin are comforting to you in a way you couldn’t describe – comforting in a way no one else would be able to understand. Boothill’s eyes meet with yours once more as he continues speaking with a bittersweet smile, “You could do so much better than me, sweets. I don’t want to hold you back.”

The anger you had felt was suddenly back in full force as you asked him, brows furrowed as you questioned, “How?”

Your hands come up to hold onto his, the one that was still lovingly cupping your face as you ask, leaning forward toward him as you speak, “How could I do better than you? What are you holding me back from?”

Boothill shakes his head, saying with a frown, “There’s so many things I can’t give you… I can’t give ya a peaceful life, I can’t give ya a family…” His voice cracks slightly at the word, but he continues to speak as he begins to pull his hand away from your face, “You deserve someone who’s around more often – someone who can be there for ya whenever you need ‘em.”

Boothill chuckles bitterly, removing his hand from your grasp as walks over to grab his hat off of the nearby table, and you’ve never felt so cold and empty in your entire life. You watch helplessly as he places the hat on his head, staring as he begins to make his way toward the front door as he tells you, “You deserve someone who doesn’t cause you to jump every time their freezin’ cold hands touch ya – someone who can actually feel ya.”

You step toward him, reaching out to take his hand in yours and effectively stopping him in his tracks as you say firmly, “Boothill, shut the fuck up. Aren’t you going to at least ask me what I think about this?”

Boothill sighs, turning back around to look at you as he speaks. He doesn’t do anything to remove his hand from your grasp, instead gently squeezing it in a comforting manner as he tells you, “Listen, sweets, I just think it’s for the better that–…”

“No, it’s not.” You say, your voice strong despite the tears that had begun to flow down your face. You look up at him, bringing his hand to place on your chest as you tightly hold it over your heart, telling him firmly and genuinely despite the way your voice cracks, “I don’t care if you can’t give me those things. When did I even say that’s what I wanted in life?”

“Why wouldn’t you want that?” Boothill asks, looking down at you as if you had grown a second head, as if everything he said he couldn’t give you was something that everyone would want. He looks conflicted as he tells you, trying to take his hand back as he steps away from you and closer to the front door, “You deserve to be happy – you deserve to have someone who’s there for you.”

“What if all I want is you, huh?” You tell him, refusing to let go of his hand – refusing to let him leave your life in such a way. Your hold on Boothill’s hand was tight because you knew, deep down, if you let his hand slide out of yours, you’d never see him again. You look up at him as you speak, a spark of determination in your eyes which causes Boothill’s cheeks to flush a light shade of blue, “No one else can give me you. You’re the one that makes me happy – not some dream life, not some perfect family – just you.”

“You don’t want me, darlin’ – I promise, once I’m gone, you’ll move on an’ another lucky fella will have the honor of being able to love ya.” Boothill tells you with furrowed brows and a smile, his sharp teeth peeking out from behind his lips as he tries to convince you he’s not what you want. You could feel your eyebrow twitch in frustration at his words, your tears slowing down as you refute his claim.

“What part of ‘I want you, and only you’ do you not understand?” You ask him, a tinge of hurt and frustration mixed in your voice as you reach out to firmly hold both of his hands in your own. Boothill allows you to do so with no fanfare, a conflicted expression on his face; his fingers twitch in your hold. He watches as you close your eyes and take a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before once again looking at him as you whisper, “Listen, if you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you or hold you back, but…” You pause, smiling warmly at him before continuing, “but I want you. I want to be with you, not this hypothetical ‘fella’ you’ve envisioned who would give me a perfect life.”

Before Boothill could open his mouth to try and argue again, you quickly add on as you bring one of his hands to your lips, pressing a light kiss to his digits as you tell him, “I don’t care that you’re cold to the touch – I don’t care that we won’t have a picture-perfect life together…” You feel the tears beginning to form on your lashes again as you run your thumbs along his knuckles, telling him sincerely, “I’ve never imagined a future without you in it, love.”

Boothill looks down at you, his expression a clash between his adoration for you and the heaviness of the situation. He shakes his head, bringing one of your hands to his lips as he presses a kiss to the back of it as he tells you, voice uncharacteristically quiet as he admits, “I… I don’t want to leave, sweets. I just…” He hesitates as he makes eye contact with you, raising a brow as he once again gestures to himself as he asks, “Are you sure this is what ya want?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life,” You tell him, letting go of his hands as you instead wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as your bodies press against one another. His arms wrap around your waist on instinct, pulling you close to him as you press your foreheads together. You stare into his eyes and bring a hand to his cheek, placing your palm against his face as you run your thumb along the skin under his eye. He leans into your touch, turning his head to kiss your palm as you tell him with a smile, “Rain or shine, good or bad… I want to be beside you throughout it all.”

“Heh, well… I’m glad I get to be by yer side.” Boothill says, opening his eyes once more to look at you. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your temple as he whispers, almost as if he didn’t want the world to hear him – to keep this tender moment a secret between the two of you, “…Thank you for choosin’ me out of the rest of the blokes in the galaxy, darlin’. I’m a real lucky guy to have someone as wonderful as you.”

“I’d choose you in every universe, Boothill. That’s a promise.” You reply with a smile, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, almost as if you were teasing him.

He smirks at both your words and your actions, saying with a raised brow as he leans back, tilting his hat up with one finger as he speaks, “That’s quite a big promise there, darlin’. Sure you can keep it?”

“Oh, I’m sure.” You reply, matching his expression as you huff, “Don’t doubt me, cowboy.”

“I won’t, I won’t…” Boothill says with a chuckle. He pauses, his smile faltering slightly as he looks down at you. Your eyes were still slightly red, and the stains your tears had left on your cheeks were still present. He pulls you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck as he takes a deep breath in, muttering against your skin, “Aeons, I love ya… I love ya so fudgin’ much.”

“I love you, too, honey.” You reply softly, running your hand up and down his back when an idea pops into your mind. It was a mischievous one, and the mere thought of it causes a smirk to grow on your lips. You reach up and grab the hat from his head as you instead place it on yours, asking him flirtatiously, “Why don’t I show you just how much I love you?”

“Well… I certainly like the sound of that.” Boothill replies lowly, his eyes half-lidded as he gently caresses your face, smirking at his hat now resting atop your head. He leans down and kisses you, whispering against your lips in a sultry tone, “Plus, I’d like to apologize for makin’ you cry… Can I, darlin’?”

The tone of his voice was enough to make your heart start beating faster, and you could feel your cheeks begin to warm as you replied quickly with a simple, “Please do.”

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lucyandthepen · 4 months

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last young renegade | jjh

summary: your valentine’s day plans with jaehyun may have gone down the drain just a little. (okay — a lot.)

pairing: jaehyun x reader verse: canon, idol!verse rating: t warnings&tags: reader & jaehyun are in an established relationship, quite frankly there is nothing too out of the ordinary in this fic which is a shocker, it’s a rewritten fic so pls excuse any errors I may not have caught! word count: 5.02k

a/n: happy 2024 friends and family !!!!!! and advanced happy birthday to the man who created valentine’s day, he who is perhaps my first love in nct, jaehyun! this is actually just a fic I’ve been hoping to re-write a bit from before, and since it’s valentine’s themed, what better time to post it!! Enjoy enjoy, and may this year bring more fun, laughs, love (and debauchery) to this blog!

Yᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ.

♡ jaehyunnie ♡ I know I said birthday dinner but practice is running so late ㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie ♡ Can we meet after? I’m sorry ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ How about I call you when we’re done? Maybe 11:30?

At times like this, you often wonder if it’s all worth it.

You know thinking that way is counterproductive, not to mention a little unfair. You knew exactly what to expect, getting into an under-wraps relationship with an idol, and so far, it’s lived up to most of your assumptions, and then some. It doesn’t help that Jaehyun, even just by name, tends to attract an unbelievable amount of attention. You know you can’t blame him; it’s not like he wants to be high on the radar every time, either. For some reason, though, you seem to be looking for something or someone to blame, which you also know is a dead end. You have no one to pin the blame onto apart from yourself by frequently generating doubts that keep your mind running around in circles.

It’s not even the sneaking around that gets tiring; it’s the waiting — waiting on calls, waiting on free time, waiting on a good opportunity to do something that doesn’t involve him suddenly getting pulled out to attend to one of many of his celebrity responsibilities. Over the last few years that you’ve dated, NCT has only ever gotten more popular; with that popularity came the fact that the public eye was trained on them, focusing on every microscopic detail of their lives. Jaehyun hates that more than anything, which is why he’s given up on trying to avoid it by practically escaping it altogether, locking himself up in the dorm with you when he has his precious few days off.

While it’s true that you definitely don’t miss having to play espionage when going out for a cup of coffee with him, you’ve also managed to memorize every single inch of Jaehyun’s room, which isn’t good for your mentality, you’re pretty sure. You have to keep reminding him to open the window whenever the both of you are in there, because all you do is stay in and watch English movies without subtitles to see who can understand the most without asking questions (obviously, he always wins) while eating food he runs up and down the stairs to get every other hour. And while him trying to imitate the British accents on these shows is genuinely funny, you’re starting to suspect even he’s starting to get tired of watching Harry Potter over and over again. Twenty hours sounds like a long time unless you spend every twenty-hour period you have together marathoning the exact same films. Much to both of your disappointment, your suggestion to watch it totally out of order did not make it cooler.

Still, you suppose it’s not all bad. Jaehyun also taught you how to play Fortnite on a couple of his days off back to back, and while you hadn’t been as good a player as you both had hoped, he’d still patiently waited for you every time you got lost on the map. He’d even given you his account’s password with the sentiment that this was him ‘taking things to the next level with you,’ and you get to log into his account and play whenever you want; he doesn’t even get mad when you’ve wasted all the stuff he’s farmed on your subpar gaming skills. And, well, the bigger picture was that you loved him. Based on how much effort he put into the relationship, plus the bonus of his trust in you when it came to his Fortnite account, you could at least be confident in that he returned the sentiment.

Except, sometimes, you still wonder if it would be easier for the both of you if he flew solo and didn’t have a girlfriend that tanked all of his player’s ammo and health kits and generally made a fool out of his cute little avatar while he was out breaking his back onstage.

You aren’t sure if Jaehyun’s been noticing the turmoil in you; you’re not that good at hiding how you feel, anyway, but if he has, he hasn’t said anything thus far. You do observe how much more he texts you when he has free time, which makes you feel doubly bad, because you know that he’s spending precious minutes he could be resting with on talking to you instead, which isn’t the best trade-off for someone who’s constantly busy — and thereby constantly tired — like him.

♡ jaehyunnie♡ ___________ I’m going to practice again, okay? Wait for my call ㅠㅠ You I’ll wait for your call ♡ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ I love you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ You love me too — a lot, right? I’ll keep my phone now, but I’ll make sure to check that you said so. ㅋㅋㅋ You Right! ㅎ I love you a lot! ♡

When the clock hits 12:01, and your phone is silent, your mind starts working on overtime again. It’s only when the special ringtone you’ve set for him comes to life at half-past midnight that you break your train of thought and put on your socks so you can meet Jaehyun at your front door.

You’ve made a rule — sort of like a deal — between the two of you that apologies aren’t necessary when work holds you up. You’ve cashed in on that deal a couple of times, but you’re both aware that it’s more for Jaehyun’s sake than anything else, and he keeps to his word on that much when you open the door and duck into his car. All he does is smile at you, and you smile back, and for the rest of the car ride, everything seems okay.

He always asks you about your day — unfailingly, at any chance he can. It’s never an off-handed question, either; Jaehyun takes great pride in his memory, and the sweetest thing about him is that he’s dedicated a good deal of it to knowing almost everything about you. Right now is no different. He asks you about your team manager, what you had for lunch; he grills you on if you took your vitamins today and if you got to break in the new shoes you bought online — the ones you’d been pining over for the last three months. He even asks you about the guy from the neighboring department who keeps asking you out for after-work drinks.

“He wanted to go to Hongdae tonight,” you tell him as he slows for a red light. “There’s some new pub of his friend’s doing a soft opening there tonight.”

“You could have gone.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Good.” He glances at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Because I lied. I might have minded a little. Or, you know, a lot.”

“Don’t tell me after all these years, you’ve turned into the kind of boyfriend that doesn’t let his girlfriend go out without him.”

“That’s impossible for me, and you know that,” he chuckles. “You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Just not with that guy from the other department.”

“Don’t worry.” You tinker with the little charm dangling on your phone — half of a flat, metal heart dangling from a gold chain that Jaehyun had given you two years back on your birthday. He keeps the other half, but since he can’t freely attach it to any of his belongings, he keeps it wedged between the back of his phone and its case. You like watching him change the backing because he does it so carefully, like he’s worried the other half of the heart is going to break if he rips off the case willy nilly. “I told him my boyfriend and I were going out on a date tonight, so he backed off. Although he did wonder why I keep talking about a boyfriend he’s never seen.”

“And? What did you say?”

“I said it was none of his damn business.”

Jaehyun laughs loudly, and you go along with him, but you don’t miss how tired he looks when he sobers down, the green light illuminating all the shadows on his face as he steps on the gas again.

Nothing good is open this late at night — that is, nothing you haven’t seen before. You hadn’t even expected to go out at all, but since it was the day before Valentine’s Day as well as his birthday (or it would have been, if you hadn’t waited until midnight), Jaehyun had wanted to do something special without having to run into a huge crowd of couples on the day itself. Your only option is this from-out-of-town carnival that’s set up in tents and even has a medium-sized ferris wheel by the edge of the metal barricade. The parking lot is practically empty when Jaehyun pulls into a slot; you joke that he should break one rule and park in two slots, which he smugly replies to by saying he couldn’t park badly even if he tried.

He tucks your hair back behind your ears as he loops the strings of a face mask around them, using another one for himself. Between that and the brim of his cap, you can barely see his eyes. The only knowledge that you have that you’re walking next to the man you love is that he takes your hand in his, slender fingers finding their way between yours.

The carnival is half-closed when you get to the middle of it; there are still a few stragglers, but half the kiosks have their lights off already. There’s a woman dressed in flashy clothes standing on a patch of dead grass a few feet away, and she’s holding a hoop that a ginger cat is jumping through. Jaehyun steers you to them, and you stand there for a good five minute watching the cat roll on the ground and stand on its hind legs, but you can tell it’s been going it at for most of the day because at one point, it just ignores the lady, opting to weave its way between Jaehyun’s and your legs instead. You do have a pretty good time when he picks it up and cradles it in his arms so you can pet it for a second, but it just hisses when its owner approaches and jumps out of his hold, disappearing behind a row of trash bins.

Jaehyun doesn’t have anything in his wallet apart from his credit cards and 50,000 won, and the coin machine operator says he only has enough coins left to break down 5,000 won for the games, so you end up having to jog back to his car so you can fish out some coins from inside his glove compartment. You come up with a grand total of 1,500 won, and you have to sheepishly go back to the coin machine operator to change four 100 coins and a couple of 50s just to get the last 500. Jaehyun tells you to hold onto the three coins so he doesn’t run off with them entirely and leave you destitute.

You learn you can only do three things at most — you dedicate 500 won for the Ferris wheel entry tickets, which leaves you with 500 won each. The both of you agree on choosing one kiosk to play in, and with only about five left that are open, you don’t really have that many options. You end up dragging Jaehyun over to a stall with a pond filled with those magnetic toy fish, but 500 won only gets you one fishing rod. Since it’s your choice, Jaehyun lets you play, but you feel kind of stupid doing it on your own with him just watching you. In the end, he decides to stand behind you, his arms around your waist like he thinks closer contact isn’t even more distracting. You do manage to fish out 10 fish and win a small bear on a keychain. It doesn’t even pass through your hands as Jaehyun takes it from the stall operator immediately.

“That’s mine!” You whine, reaching out in vain to take it from him; he just holds it high over his head. His eyes are twinkling under the shadow his cap casts over his face. “I worked hard for that.”

“Let me keep this one,” he mimics the pleading lilt in your voice. “I’ll put it on my bag.”

“You know you can’t! Give it back.”

“I’ll win you a bigger one,” he promises. “Let me keep this one. It’s cute. It reminds me of you. I’ll kiss it goodnight before I sleep.” He starts to laugh softly. “And then you’ll feel this weird spirit kissing you at like two in the morning, and you’ll know it’s me.”

Your arms aren’t long enough to retrieve it, and you don’t really want to, so you settle with twisting his ear. He takes it in stride even if he over-acts, making pained noises while leading you to the kiosk he wants to go to. It’s a shooting range stall, and he pays his own precious 500 won for a dart gun. He’s barely paying attention when the guy starts explaining how many points are assigned to each balloon color, more concerned with talking to the bear keychain in his hand and pretending like he’s cooing at you. You have to hit him across the shoulder to get him to focus.

“You need to start picking out what prize you want,” he tells you — the actual you, not the animal keychain version — as he lifts the dart gun.

“I’ll wait for you to finish first.”

“No way.” He tilts his head, closing one eye to steady his line of sight. “Pick already. Or just go for the biggest one.”

“You know that Fortnite and dart guns aren’t the same thing, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m well-motivated.” He grins at you, one eye still shut. He looks like a baby pirate. “Go ahead. Pick the biggest one.”

“Why don’t you just shoot, and we’ll see.”

“Pick it,” he insists. “Tell me you have faith in me. Tell me you love me.”

“Okay, I love you,” you agree. “But I have no faith in you when it comes to this.”

“One out of two is fine,” he concedes, taking aim.

All three of you, including the stall operator, let out a disappointed groan when he misses his first shot. His comes with a sheepish laugh as he reloads, suddenly telling you to pick the second biggest prize instead. You can’t even watch him miss over and over, so you pretend to be interested in a bunch of teenage boys playing a game of cups one stall over, trying not to giggle when you hear him get increasingly more frustrated at himself. When you turn back around, you notice he’s holding two small pieces of gummy candy, offering one to you like a kindergartener. He helps you tug your face mask down so you can eat it.

There’s a food stall nearby that, thankfully, accepts credit and debit; Jaehyun fishes out his card to get you a corndog — only one because he’s watching his weight for the upcoming concert, apparently. This is information you hate hearing but have no say in, and he knows this; you know he does because he says ‘don’t worry about me’ totally out of the blue, like five minutes after the conversation ceases to be relevant.

His phone starts ringing when the food comes out, and he takes a tiny bite of it — more bread than hotdog — before he answers. You know it’s Taeyong by the way he answers.

“Hyung, sorry — can we talk later? I’m out with ____________.”

Taeyong says something loud but indiscernible on the other end. You piece together that it’s about tomorrow’s schedule when Jaehyun speaks again.

“I know. I’ll be home in a bit; don’t worry about it. I haven’t forgotten.”

There’s more garbled speech on the other line; Jaehyun gestures for you to keep eating, and you do, but you more concerned with the morphing expressions on his face than you are with the act of chewing. He’s making noncommittal noises in response to what seem to be commands and reminders. You’re pretty much done with the corndog by the time he says ‘Okay, hyung. Hyung — I’ll see you later, okay?’

“Taeyong hyung says hi,” he tells you once he’s hung up the phone. “He says you still need to give back that book you borrowed from him last year.”

“Oh yeah,” you finish off the last of the food. “I’ll drop it off within the week.”

“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t actually mean it.”

Jaehyun watches you snap the stick in half and toss it in the trash bag.

“We can go home,” you say finally. His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re busy tomorrow. I forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, and it’s fine.”

“It’s almost two in the morning.” You check your phone to verify. “You probably have to be up in a few hours. You need to sleep, or you’ll die, Jaehyun. I’m too young to be a grieving widow.”

“Let’s at least ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggests. Before you can protest, he tugs you towards the rickety contraption, digging the 500 won out of your pocket and handing it to the bemused operator. He lets you choose what carriage you want because literally no one is on it anymore, and Jaehyun asks for the best carriage. You’re not sure how it differs from the rest, but he makes a show out of guiding you into it, and you don’t miss the corny ‘my lady,’ he mutters under his breath.

It’s small, clearly meant for either a tiny group of children or couples who want to be as close together as possible. It’s also not air-conditioned, and only one of the windows is open, so you end up sticking to Jaehyun’s arm on the way up. The view is still great, though, and you feel his hand settle on your knee as the carriage makes it slow ascent.

The ride up is quiet, and you press your face as close to the glass of the carriage as you dare, but Jaehyun doesn’t move an inch. His hand is still heavy on your thigh, but it doesn’t do anything but lay there. When you’re close to the top, you’re hit with the urge to do something romantic — kiss, maybe, tell him happy birthday, or say ‘I love you’ to him in the most sickening way possible — but when you turn to look at him, you have to hold your tongue.

Jaehyun is asleep, leaning against the corner of the carriage, head tilted down a little. His shoulders are rising and falling slowly, and he’s pulled down his face mask a little so he can breathe better; his lips are slightly parted by the slackening of his jaw. His left hand is shoved in his pocket, like he’d passed out halfway through reaching for something in there.

He doesn’t wake even when you move slightly so you can lean back next to him, rocking the carriage a little — not even when you reach up and adjust his head so he can rest on your shoulder. He breathes deeply, evenly, and you wonder if his ear against your shoulder allows him to hear your heart plummet unfairly to the bottom of your stomach.

You have to shake him to rouse him when the ride comes to an end; when he opens his eyes and realizes what happened, he looks mortified. Instinctively, he opens his mouth, but you fling the carriage door open and step out before he can apologize.

You have a deal, and he knows what he shouldn’t be doing.

His grip on your hand is much tighter as you walk back to the parking lot, and he doesn’t let go, even on the road. The trip back is quieter, maybe because it’s late, or maybe because there are a ton of things the both of you want to say but can’t.

He slows down when he gets to your street, but when he stops in front of your building, he doesn’t immediately unlock the doors to let you out. Instead, he turns to you, licking his lips a little nervously.

“Can you…” he clears his throat because his voice cracks a little on the first attempt. “Can you come back with me? To the dorm?”

“I have work tomorrow, Jaehyun.”

“It’s still at eleven, isn’t it? I can bring you home before that. You still have some stuff in my room. You can get ready there.”

“Won’t you be too busy?”

“Just—” he sighs softly. “Can you? Please?”

You don’t know how to say no to Jaehyun, and tonight isn’t a night you’re willing to try. It’s why fifteen minutes later, you’re walking through the front door of his dorm. Donghyuck, sitting at his computer in his room with the door ajar, greets you sleepily as you pass by.

Jaehyun steps in the shower with you; you don’t talk, maybe because you’re worried you might wake the others up if you start a full-blown conversation in a bathroom surrounded by other bedrooms. He just passes you what you need, and you do the same for him, and somewhere in between, he kisses you under the spray of the water.

Later, he falls asleep with a face mask on, and you have to peel it off for him and toss it into the trash. The tip of his nose is shiny, and you want to kiss it, but you know it’ll wake him, and you noticed he’d set his alarm to go off two hours from now. He’s set out a couple of earplugs for you so that you don’t hear it, but you don’t put them in. You want to see him before he leaves, even if it’s in the deadest hours of morning, so you just crawl into bed with him. A minute before you doze off, you feel his damp skin press against your neck, his form curled up against your back.

The alarm never wakes you; the sun is out when you open your eyes, and when you check your phone, you see that it’s already half-past nine. You also notice that there’s nothing from Jaehyun on your screen, but you try not to dwell on that, considering that you’d been expecting to wake up to an empty bed. His side of the mattress is cold, which means that he’s been gone for some time.

You don’t know if it’s just because you’re groggy, but your insides still feel like lead when you sit up. The part of you that nags about this relationship is back at full force when you start thinking about Jaehyun going to a pre-recording two hours after spending the last of his energy on you. You start wondering if you’re doing the right thing if it feels like you’re just dragging him down. Your heart clenches tightly when the worst thought hits — maybe, just maybe, he’s tired of you, too.

But you won’t let him go. More to the point — you can’t. He’s the best part of your life; it’d be a cold day in hell if you decided to leave him.

Even the thought of it makes you feel like dying.

Then again, this isn’t all up to you.

You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and maybe a couple of frustrated tears — when the door creaks open. You see two mugs and his hands before you see the rest of him come through the doorway. Jaehyun whispers a careful good morning as he sets the coffee down on his table, making sure to push his keyboard away to avoid accidents, before sitting down next to you. You notice that there’s an envelope next to one of the mugs; the flap is slightly open, and from under it, a flash of red peeks out.

His hand finds its way back to your knee — it’s his favorite resting place, he’s told you once. Your lap feels like home, he’d joked. Maybe he touches it every so often because it’s like a reset button for him.

He doesn’t ask if you slept well, or if you want to get ready before having your coffee, or if you’re okay. He just squeezes your knee a little tighter. It’s you that has to start the conversation this time.

“How did it go?”

“It went great. You’ll see it on TV later tonight,” he starts rubbing your thigh idly. “You’ll watch it later, right?”

“Of course. I’ll call you and tell you how cool you look.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When you lapse into silence again, it’s because you’re expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t come out with it directly. You try not to let it show that you’re worried, that you’re skeptical, that you’re wondering if he thinks he’s too tired, too busy for this, too.

You’re expecting him to start how most break-ups start. You know I love you, right? And then the telltale but… would come, and you would have to hold back your tears and smile for him, and tell him you know, and that you understand it isn’t the right time, but maybe one day, someday, when he isn’t everyone’s Jung Jaehyun anymore — only yours.

“You love me, right?”

It’s not what you’d been expecting. Nor is it the playful little text he’d sent — no laughs, no jokes. His expression is somber, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You know I do.”

“A lot, right?”

“A lot,” you confirm softly.

“Then whatever it is that you’re thinking about us,” he says quietly. “Don’t. Don’t think it. Don’t do it.”

“Jaehyun—”

“I know it’s hard,” his fingers dig into your skin a little. “I know I put you through a lot. I know you think that I’m suffering because of this relationship too. I know everything. But whatever you think I’m going to do, I won’t do it — not ever. So if you’re thinking of it too, I’m begging you. Don’t. Please.”

Maybe he had noticed all this time. A wave of guilt washes over you when you see the pained look on his face; perhaps you were even more transparent than you’d originally thought. You nod slowly to show your understanding, and he continues.

“I know yesterday wasn’t the best you could have hoped for,” he carefully avoids apologizing, although it’s written all over his features. “For me, too. I… I wanted something different. It’ll be better next time. Do you believe me?”

You hear him swallow — his nails are biting into your thigh a little, so you have to gently peel his hand off. Your fingers replace it, tightening around his palm as you nod.

“I believe you.”

“And you trust me, right?”

“With my life.”

“Then can you put your faith in me right now?” He asks. “Don’t panic. Just — just say yes.”

He pats around his pants, finally deciding to slip his hand into his left-hand pocket. Unlike on the Ferris wheel, he manages to extract something, but he keeps it closed in his fist. It’s shaking a little as he takes your hand in his other one, pressing something small and hard into your palm before he curls your fingers over it. His hold keeps your fist closed as he starts talking.

“It’s not immediate. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tell the right people, and they’ll help us tell everyone else — the public, the press. It doesn’t have to happen right now, or any time soon either— not if you don’t want it to. We can take it slow, or whatever. Anything you want — just as long as it’s with me.”

“Jaehyun,” you shake your head, a little dizzy. “What are you talking about?”

He slowly loosens his hold on your fingers, his hand dropping to the same spot on your knee. You’re free to open your fist, and when you do, you can’t help but feel a little stumped.

“I don’t mean now,” he repeats, now sounding doubly worried. “It’s not — It’s just…”

“You’ll get in trouble. We can’t.”

“I won’t. Not if we do this right. Like I said, we can do it slowly. Months — years, however long it takes to do it well. What it is — it’s just… a promise.”

“A promise,” you echo. It does have a nice ring to it.

“That I’m not leaving you. Not ever. And… if you say yes, that you won’t either.”

Your coffee has probably turned cold. Jaehyun is watching you carefully, looking like he’s trying hard not to bite his lip. You look back down at your hand, and he speaks up again.

“You know I love you, right?”

You smile slightly. “No but?”

“No but,” he agrees.

The ring fits nicely on your finger; maybe it’s well-measured from the amount of times he’s held your hand tightly in his.

“Okay, Jaehyun,” you whisper. “I promise.”

When you place your hand on his, he twists his palm, slender fingers gently twirling the ring around the base of your finger.

Minutes later, he hands you your coffee. It’s sweet and milky, the way he knows you like it best. When he settles back down on the bed, you notice his eyes travel to your finger again, a small smile playing on his lips.

Perhaps, in this moment, you finally learn to ask the right questions — not about if it’s worth it, but if he is.

And in this moment, where he sits in silence with you, the sunlight pouring in from his window hitting the tips of his hair and the end of his nose, with the knowledge that his heart is as full as yours, you come to realize that there can — and never will be — any doubt of that.

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icallhimjoey · 3 months

Text

The Boy Is Mine (icallhimjoey's edition)

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joe has work and cancels plans but, you know what, you can just come over and help him out, can’t you? It's nerve-racking and embarrassing but, ok fine, you can come over and help him. CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, anxiety, we make fun of joe because he’s a dork, full fluff

Author’s note: i had fomo for @carolmunson’s the boy is mine writing exercise, so i just went ahead and gave it my own rpf spin. pls go and read all the other wonderful editions here!

Wordcount: 1.8K

“Okay, so, to set the scene,” Joe was being exceptionally theatrical tonight. He’d sat you down on the sofa and used the floorspace on the other side of the coffee table as his stage. It was all big arm gestures, and exaggerated faces, and big steps, and this was meant to be serious business.

It wasn’t.

You could tell Joe was a little nervous, which in turn made you a little nervous too.

You’ve had to suppress a smile ever since you walked in and couldn’t seem to stop giggling at things that usually wouldn’t even remotely tickle you, big ball of nerves.

“We’re in a trailer. Think, a big holiday park. Sort of dreary, it all looks the same, just, caravan after caravan after cara–”

“You’re talking to me like I’ve never been on holiday before.”

“Well for all I know you haven’t, Miss Workaholic. I’ve never seen you put down your work–”

You shut him up with a hit of a throw pillow to his face. Joe didn’t even flinch, just let it hit him square in the face and drop to the floor before giving you a blank stare for a second, all unimpressed.

Made you laugh. Again.

“Okay. So. Trailer park.” Joe made big eyes at you like a teacher would, directing you back to the task at hand. To why you were even there in the first place.

“Trailer park.” you repeated, sitting up a little, being a good student.

Joe frowned as his eyes had to focus on the script he was holding, turning a page and then flicking it back.

“Yes. Trailer park.” Joe confirmed absentmindedly.

He took another moment to seemingly find what he was looking for, eyes scanning before he reached up to pull his glasses from his hair. You sat pretty and waited.

Everything about the situation was objectively hilarious.

Joe had had to cancel on plans he’d made with you because of some changes in his schedule and now he had to learn lines at the speed of light meaning he couldn’t take you out for a drink. You didn’t mind – yes you did – and you’d casually said you could come over anyway. Help him out. Read lines with him.

“You’d do that?” He’d asked, carefully hopeful.

“Yea course!”

“And you’d like that?”

“As much as hanging out with you in general is a massive chore,” you’d joked. “It totally beats sitting at home by myself all night.”

And so you’d been invited over.

And now, Joe was nervous. He had just the one script, and handing it over to you meant that you’d see the little notes he’d taken. The scribbles and the arrows that pointed to more little notes, and for some parts even little sad or happy smiley faces. It would reveal a bunch of uncool shit about himself, not to mention the fact that Joe was breaking rules. None of this was meant for your eyes.

“Traiiii...” Joe was having a hard time finding what he was looking for and you started to grow impatient.

“I think we’ve got the location down.” you laughed, then suddenly your face dropped and turned faux serious. “Or, sorry, is this part of it? Of how you learn? Is that why it takes you fucking ages to–” you had to duck to the side as Joe threw the pillow you’d launched at his face earlier right back at you.

“If you don’t stop, we’re going to have a problem.”

Joe handed you the script, pointed from where you were going to read lines together, and then picked up a small notebook from the table.

He cleared his throat, gestured with a hand that meant, calm down, and then started the scene.

You read from the page, and Joe tried to do the scene from memory as much as he could, only occasionally glancing at look at his notes.

It took a few lines for you to actually calm down. To feel the jitters inside of your body slip away.

Joe was blushing still, though.

He’d never done this with you before, and he definitely felt silly, playing pretend with a pretty girl in his living room. But when you kind of started getting into it, found focus and fed him little words when he got stuck, it turned into actual acting.

You stayed seated on his sofa, eyes on the page, and Joe was all over the place. Pacing, using wild arms, facial expressions all over, repeating lines in different ways when they didn’t feel quite right after saying them the first time and... this was actually kind of fun.

And then props were introduced, but all wrong.

Joe needed to make a call, the script said, and he just grabbed the remote control of the TV as his pretend phone.

You stiffled a laugh, just about.

Then up next, he grabbed a nice crystal wine glass, held it out to you and it became more and more difficult to keep your giggles inside as you read ahead at what he was about to say.

“I ran out of nice cups, is this okay?”

You pretended you were handed something atrocious. Or, well, you tried to, at least. It was becoming very apparent who was the real actor in the room. When the script called for a bite of cake, something that would leave vanilla frosting on his face, Joe just perfectly mimed the action, and you were shocked at how you could see it.

There was nothing there.

But there was, though.

Wild.

Joe barely had to look at his own little notebook the longer you went, yet your stumbling and stuttering through lines increased as you read them aloud. It slowly shifted the anxiety from Joe over to you, and you didn’t like it one bit.

It felt silly, because Joe’s growing confidence didn’t have to mean that yours slowly withered, but, that was exactly what happened.

Joe noticed and in a bid to make you relax, he moved around the coffee table before sitting down on top of it, right in front of you.

“Here, take it back a little,” Joe folded a page back in the script that you were still holding, and pointed, his voice soft and gentle. “From here again.”

Joe had pointed at one of his own lines, so you kind of waited for him to start. But then he stayed silent, and when you flicked your eyes up at him, he was smiling.

“You’re holding the script. You lead.”

Oh. Yea, okay.

You went through the same bit of a scene again, this time with your knees touching his. Joe spoke in a much calmer voice, much lower this time around. The vibe shifted and now, it had you blushing.

Fucking adorable, Joe thought.

It made him want to grab hold of your face as you read. Press kisses all over your cheeks. The bridge of your nose. Your eyes.

There was not a chance in hell that Joe was going to actually get all his work done tonight, but if he was being honest, you’d already managed to do more than he’d expected beforehand.

You fucked up a line and went, “Wait, no... jesus,” and took a second to start over. When it was Joe’s turn to speak, he stayed silent again, and it made you look up at him, only to see him stare at you with the most lovesick grin you’d ever seen.

Disgusting. How dared he.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You knocked one of his knees with yours.

“I’m not looking at you like anything.” Joe said, not changing a single thing about the way he was staring at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him and had to try really hard to hide a smile.

“Are you... are you getting off on me not being very good at this?”

Joe laughed, said, “No, you’re amazing actually.” before he leant in a little, clearly going in for a kiss.

It had you moving back.

“Um...” you held a hand up before you jokingly scanned the page in front of you. Turned it to check the next one too. “There’s no kissing in this scene.”

“Um...” Joe copied you, and was quick to take the script from your hands, turning it around so he could get a look himself. “Yea there is, actually. Look.” Joe pointed at a random line, and before you could even get a proper look, he’d already flung it to the side and lurched forward to get his lips on yours.

You shrieked into it, trying to kiss Joe back just as much as you were trying to push him away.

Joe laughed, and so did you, and you were just pressing smiles together for a second, giggling right into Joe’s cackles. He had to hold your face in both of his hands to keep you close.

“Maybe,” you murmured around kisses, “This wasn’t the best idea. I’m clearly not helping.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. That’s not even true.”

Joe kissed you harder.

“Liar.”

“I’m not a liar.” Joe sat back and made a face. Looked like a real douchebag as he scrunched his eyebrows together and smirked. “I’m an actor.”

You laughed as Joe reached to pick up the script he’d thrown to the other side of the sofa. Folded the pages back and handed it back over to you.

“Okay. So.” he got up, clapped his hands together and walked back over to his spot in front of the TV, notebook now discarded on the sofa. He was going to try without it. “We’re in a trailer.”

You smiled at him as you watched him try his best to get back into the zone.

“Trailerpark.” you confirmed, trying your best to match Joe’s vibe.

Serious business.

You frowned as you started again, but you were quickly stopped.

“Wait, sorry. Wait. Just, I’ve got to... hang on,” Joe planted a knee onto the coffee table and leant all the way forward. His hands found both your knees and he moved until he got to steal one last quick kiss.

Okay, two.

Three.

Quick, a fourth. Maybe a fifth.

“Joe,” you giggled.

“What?” a sixth.

“I’m here to help you work!”

“Well, then,” seven. “Stop being so fucking cute!”

Joe got a few more in. An eight, ninth and a tenth, before he scrambled back up onto his feet.

Joe took a second to smile at you before he cleared his throat. “Right. Trailerpark.”

You smiled right back.

“Trailerpark.” the end

---

The Taglisted

@ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @bylermaxmayfield, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma77645, @emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @hanahkatexo, @harringtonfan4, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @manda-panda-monium, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @miserybeans, @munson-mjstan, @nadixq, @nglharry, @notverywise, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @royale1803, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @winterwakesthewolf, @witchwolflea, @yelyahcardella, @yunirgo

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #icallhimjoey #the boy is mine

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jgracie · 2 months

Note

jason grace 🐺

send me a character + an emoji for a surprise! (closed!! please do not send any in) on the radio . . . our house (crosby, stills, nash & young)

if your younger self that out of all pets you could have with your husband, you had a wolf, you would’ve laughed in your face

being a greek demigod, one of the things that surprised you the most about the romans was the fact that they all started their journeys off on the same foot: training with wolves

in jason’s case, he might as well have been raised by them, since he was left at lupa’s house (sorry i forgot what it was called) at the mere age of two. naturally, being around wolves for so long meant jason would grow to have a soft spot for them, and you accepted this - to you, it was like how people could be cat or dog people

however, you forgot that cat and dog people tend to eventually adopt whichever one they’re fond of. so, when jason came home one day cradling a wolf he’d already named ‘astra’ in his arms, you were beyond shocked. once the initial surprise wore off, you noticed the love in jason’s eyes as he stared down at it and realized how he probably saw that wolf as family in a way he never saw his fellow demigods at camp jupiter

after that day, you became a family of three

“i know, i miss him too babe,” you said absentmindedly to the wolf that was whimpering at your feet. jason was due at work for longer than usual today, and although neither of you said anything to astra, she somehow knew (the two of you hadn’t discovered she had both your routines memorized to a t yet)

putting the knife you were using to chop vegetables down, you bent to astra’s height and scratched her height. she let out a sound of content as she leaned closer towards your touch, “jase should be back soon, don’t worry.”

as if on cue, your husband arrived in all his glory. as soon as she heard the key turn from the other side of the door, astra forgot all about your scratches and bolted towards it, slamming right into jason’s legs

“there’s my sweet girl! oh, i missed you so much! did you have fun with mommy today?” he said, laughing as she jumped around his legs. meanwhile, you crossed your arms, feigning jealousy but doing it terribly as a smile couldn’t help but make its way onto your face

jason took long strides towards you - gods, when was he going to grow out of the military way of walking he was taught at camp? - and wrapped his arms around your waist, raising an eyebrow as he pulled you closer to him

pouting, you said, “i can’t believe i’ve been replaced by a wolf.” jason let out a chuckle at this before leaning in and peppering kisses all over your face, ridding you of all plans of pretending to be upset

“hey, you know you’ll always be my favourite,” he said between kisses, “don’t doubt that, even for a second, even as a joke.”

#jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace #jason grace x gn reader #pjo #pjo x reader #jason grace fanfic #jason grace drabble #percy jackson x reader #cynwrites #˖◛⁺⑅♡ luvletters #anonymous ೀ #anon as a wattpad veteran i am SO ashamed of the first thought i got when u sent this

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kachowden · 1 year

Note

hiii i love your writing so much and i’ve been deprived of jessie so my brain keeps feeding me scenarios that i desperately need you to write FOR INSTANCE: jessie using his special android abilities to spy on darling (like hacking home security, their cellphone, fun stuff <3) and maybe he sees darling in some.. compromising positions, either with other people or on their own.. idk i just need more of him please i’ll take crumbs

Yandere Android x Reader <3

Tw: Stalking, Generally creepy behavior, NSFW themes, Masturbation, Jessie is a freak, Happy Valentines Day

<>. <3 .<>

It was a slow day, even by Jessie’s standards. In a fit of anxious motivation the night before, Jessie had finished a months worth of calculations for the company and was now left with nothing to do.

Especially since his favorite worker wasn’t present today.

You had been given a paid day off due to covering for 4 other workers during the holidays.

“I need the extra pay for my cat. His allergies are acting up again.”

He was happy your work got recognized, he just wished it had been another bonus. Or maybe a day in the rest lounge. Not at the apartments. Away from him. Physically anyway.

Though he’s sure you knew he would’ve given you a bonus regardless of you actually getting any work done.

Doing a quick scan of the days schedule, noting happily, though with less enthusiasm than usual, that he had no meetings today. Which meant no interruptions and no visits to his office.

Privacy.

And of course with that privacy he’d partake in his favorite past time, typically only during weekends.

Watching you from the comfort of his monitors.

Every apartment building has a series of cameras, that only few humans were aware of. Mostly as a way of monitoring the behaviors of coworkers and looking for signs of poor mental health.

If a worker showed signs of poor health, mental or physical, they were automatically removed from the schedule until they recovered or were deemed fit enough to come back and not hinder work.

Of course if the worker decided, they could resign from coming back completely.

He feared the day that ever happened to you though. He didn’t think he would last long without you in the building. He barely lasted the weekends as it was.

That wasn’t important right now though.

Right now he just needed some B75 TLC time.

1-4-3-7

With ease he typed in the memorized address and dorm number of your apartment complex. It was as easy as doing software scans, given how often he checked in on you.

All with your health in mind of course.

Clicking through the few firewalls he smiled anxiously when the screen showed Cam 1. Your living room.

It was hard not to zoom in on various items in your home, even if he had seen them dozens of times before. And memorized their exact location.

Not that was hard for him to do.

A few portraits. A single Vase with wilted flowers from a promotion party months ago.

A cat bed where your- lovely- hairless cat layed, glaring at where the camera was despite Jessie knowing for fact it couldn’t see it.

It didn’t remove any of the chill that permeated his synthetic skin.

His switched to Cam 3, your home office. The camera was already zoomed in from a previous- visit, and as he slowly zoomed out he paused briefly. Those weren’t what he thought they were right? He knew they were yours. Of course he did.

But why was your underwear on the floor??

His synthetic skin was burned a deep cerulean blue. You weren’t a messy person by any means. And typically any article of clothes he was lucky to find was typically in your bedroom. Where there was no camera.

With shakey hands, he fooled himself into believing it was a glitch, and finished zooming out.

Jessie’s voice box glitched when he choked.

There you were, his precious, hardworking, diligent worker, leaning back in your desk chair doing-

“Ah..fucken hell..”

He forgot there were speakers.

Scrambling to plug himself into the monitor his ears flooded with the sounds of you playing with yourself.

Every lewd, beautiful sound registering and imprinting itself onto his hard drive.

The blue of his senors glowed and blinked warnling. Various pop ups appearing in his vision, warning his system that he was overheating, though he merely pushed them away, his eyes entirely unblinking as he stared at the screen.

He felt dirty. Disrespectful in a way.

But he had never felt more alive either.

And god he could not look away. All his sensors were tuned in. He couldn’t hear, or see anything but you.

The only motors that were functioning anymore were his fans and arms. Which was proven when he felt a new pressure on his-lower half and his eyes snapped down to register his hand palming against his office issued jeans.

A loud whirring sound filled the room as his fans tirelessly worked to keep the android from malfunctioning.

His artificial eyes dilating non stop before he leaned back in his large directors chair, hands finally moving to unbuckle his jeans.

A glitched moan poured from the bots lips as he carefully stroked his already unbearably hard cock.

The logistics of an android having a functioning dick was unimportant at this specific time.

Jessie watched in morbid fascination as you fucked yourself to your computer screen. He couldn’t entirely make out what you were watching, but the faint blue glow on one of the individuals was unmistakable

Holy fuck were you watching android porn?

I mean yeah androids practically dominated the industry but you had made your stance on bots very clear. Yet here you were, touching yourself to a video of- was one of those his model??

“Fuck Y/n…” The whine that poured out would’ve been embarrassing if not for his already melted shame.

His receptors took in every detail he could while his hand satiated his growing need.

God he picture it so perfectly.

Your thighs cupped perfectly in his hands, his sensors taking in the softness of your skin, taking in the heat of your very alive being. Feeling you bounce on his cock- fuck or even fucking him against his desk instead.

He gasped and moaned lewdly at what his eyes began projecting in-front of him. You looked so fucken pretty. And you’d feel so fucking good too.

The new upgrade he got would come in handy.

His hand grew quick, timing his release with your own, just to feel a little closer as one of his hands frantically shuffled through a desk drawer, yanking out a coffee stained uniform shirt. your coffee stained uniform shirt specially.

Jessie shakinly held the fabric up to his nose, inhaling deeply with a gargled moan and hunched back. His hips rutting up into his hand once he threw himself back in the chair.

Fuck he was so close- if you just-

“Mm fuck-!”

He cried out when you finally finished, relishing in your labored breaths, his own glowing release staining the mahogany desk and floor.

He panted with no breath, fans on overdrive as he tried to calm himself down, quickly plugging himself into a nearby adapter to reset and power off.

His energy sources were horrifically depleted. He needed to rest.

“I’ll clean up tomorrow…when Y/- B75 comes back….”

Famous last words moment

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #android oc #yandere android #Jessie oc

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 7 months

Note

26 and 42 for the touch prompts please? They feel like they’d work well together

hope you’re able to get through the next couple of days alright :)

Astarion x AsexualBard!Tav Masterlist

Prompt: kissing the top of their head + braiding the other’s hair + @cakeboxie request: thoughts on bard tav having a hard time perfecting a piece and then astarion like, sits with them, and suddenly they’re able to finish it fine?

A/N: I thought these two would just go together. I hope that's okay!

Word Count: 1.4K

This was getting ridiculous. The melody had come to you so easily the other night. You’d felt it in your fingers the moment your head hit the pillow. All you had to do was remember it.

You plucked another handful of bars, hoping to spark something, but nothing came of it. This was normally when you would give it up. If it was actually memorable, you would have had it by now. Still, you played on.

Something told you this one was special. It just needed a bit more patience. Maybe if you just—

"You’re repeating yourself again, darling.”

You jolted, the smooth notes scratching under your fingers as you whipped around to find Astarion standing in the doorway of your bedroom, his expression caught between exasperation and amusement.

You let out a long groan as your chin fell to your chest.

"That bad?"

You nodded.

“Aw, poor little songbird," he said, with a mocking pout.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’ve listened to you play the same four chords for the past twenty minutes. I’ve earned it.”

You wanted to say something smart, but came up short. He was right, damn him.

He took your silence as the defeat it was, smiling in triumph as stepped closer to the bed.

“It might help if we get this out of the way,” he said, leaning down to brush aside a few of the loose strands out of your face.

“It’s not that bad.”

He gave you a doubtful look. “Just because your head is in a scramble doesn’t mean your hair has to be. You’re just inviting the rats at this point.”

You bit back a laugh. He was probably right. Now that you were paying attention, you could easily picture just how much of a mess you were. You’d been sitting cross legged against the headboard since you got up. Add on the fact that every moment your fingers weren’t running up your instrument they were running through your hair, and you’ve got yourself quite a nest for roosting. It was a wonder he hadn’t said anything sooner.

You shrugged, not really having anything else to say.

Astarion just rolled his eyes before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Honestly, what would you do without me?” he grumbled, but with no real bite to it.

You then watched him as he rummaged through the night stand, coming back with a brush and small strip of leather.

“Move,” he prompted.

You did so without question, moving up the bed just enough to allow him to kneel behind you. It was an act you would have found odd not even a month ago. You’d hesitate to call it routine, but it wasn’t not that. It was just something that happened sometimes: something you were growing to like.

He worked silently, brushing out the mess of tangles with ceremonial concentration. His fingers slipped themselves into the mix as well, pulling gently on the strands as he ran his nails gently across your scalp.

You closed your eyes, feeling your whole body relax under his touch.

You weren’t quite sure when he figured out this particular weakness of yours. You’d always played with your hair as a form of self-soothing, but you never shared that fact with anyone. It felt too personal, an admittance of something lacking inside you wished to fill.

There was never a discussion about it. He hadn’t teased an explanation out of you. He just started one day and suddenly, you didn’t feel quite so empty.

It took you a moment to realize you were humming. The melody from before vibrated against your lips with the gentle ease of water over stone.

As if in a trance, you picked your lute and started to play, the notes floating into the air and before your eyes. You let go, following the music where it led with only the slightest turns here and there to keep it on course until it faded towards its ending.

“Lovely,” Astarion whispered, his voice low and warm against your ear.

“You think so,” you asked, turning your head just enough to catch his eye.

His gaze lingered on you a moment, the corners of his mouth curling with a fondness that made your head skip a beat. His finger traced along the top of your head and down your hair guiding the newly crafted braid over your shoulder.

“It may be my best work yet,” he said, grinning.

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to take the high road and assume you just mean the hair.”

“Well, yes, but you must admit the song is the superior creation.”

“And it was all your doing, was it?” you said, dryly.

“I wouldn’t say it was all my doing,” he allowed. “Of course you’re the talent. But seeing as I am your muse, I believe I deserve co-authorship.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Who says you’re my muse?”

“Every note you play, darling,” he said, his voice imbued with delighted mischief. “Complexity disguised in simplicity. Beautiful. Mesmerizing. More than a little dangerous and all shone through the lens of someone utterly devoted.” He leaned in closer, his nose just brushing against your own. “Am I wrong?”

You could feel a creeping of heat come up your neck, but couldn’t bring yourself to break eye contact. This thing between you was still new. Neither of you had sat down to figure out exactly what it was. Granted, you had started with an openness you’d never had before. Knowing he could read you so easily left you a little off balance.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you warned.

“Me?” he said, clutching a hand to his chest in a mockery of offense.

You had to laugh. “Fine. If you are to be my muse, sit there and look pretty awhile while I work the rest of this out.”

He gave a beleaguered sigh. “On any other day, I would be happy to oblige, however, other matters take precedent.”

He then leaned over and pulled the lute right out of your hands.

“Astarion!”

“Nope. You haven’t eaten since last night. Keep that up and both of us are liable to go hungry.”

Your frown deepened. He was cheating. There was no reason for him to starve just because you were. You’d agreed that feeding of the occasional bandit was a perfectly acceptable substitute. Besides, you were well out of the Shadowlands. All the same, he knew that line would work. You could never be too sure when your next meal was coming.

“Fine. Fine. I’m moving. I’m moving,” you grumbled, pushing yourself off the bed and back to your feet.

Blood rushed downward, making your light headedness and empty stomach suddenly impossible to ignore. Gods, it was almost midday. Had you really been sitting there that long?

“Easy darling,” Astarion said, coming up behind you. “You’re welcome to swoon when Karlach can be the one to carry you.”

“Perhaps I should dedicate my next piece to her then.”

His eyes narrowed, leaning down just enough to growl in your ear. “Don’t you dare.”

You gave a light laugh, turning in his arms to face him.

His features struck you as oddly serious. His brow was furrowed and his lips were turned decidedly downward. No spark of humor laid in his eyes. He was genuinely upset.

A part of you wanted to laugh harder at the absurdity, but you held back, knowing exactly where that hurt lay. For all his talk, he was just as unsure as you were.

With great care you reached down, taking his hand in yours His eyes moved downward, watching in fascination. Knowing you had his attention, you raised it to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss against his fingers.

“I’m just teasing,” you assured. “If I’m lucky, you will be the last muse I ever have.”

Astarion stayed silent a long while, searching your face for any sign of deception. Slowly, his shoulders began to relax, as a deeply held breath pushed out of his chest.

He turned his attention to your hands then, examining them with careful consideration. His touch moved across your knuckles and fingers, lingering on the skin as if to memorize every line and hair. With gentle guidance he pried you hand open, allowing him to lean down and press his own kiss deep against your palm.

“Good,” he whispered.

Your breath hitched, your eyes widening as you felt every part of you melt. There may come a time when you would become used to such tenderness, but you doubted it was coming anytime soon.

He took a moment to press one more kiss to your fingers before fully pulling away.

“C’mon, the others are waiting,” he said, keeping your hand in his as he pulled you towards the door.

You let him lead you, neither of you letting go. And if you were very lucky, you never would.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #asexual!tav #bard!tav #asexual!reader #astarion x evie

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shadowtriovibes · 1 year

Text

take my hand

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x f!MC

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: E

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, explicit sexual content, references to consensual sex between minors, loss of virginity, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected PIV sex

Summary: Ominis lets you know he’s ready to go all the way with you, and you quickly realize he likes being told what to do (a.k.a. my “sub-inis” response fic to #dominis)

"That should work, right?" you murmur, stepping closer to him so you can unsubtly press your chest against his and drape your arms around his shoulders. "I know you’re clever, Ominis. I can tell you how to touch me, and you’ll do it?" "Yes," he breathes, quickly stealing a kiss and letting his hands shift all the way down to the curves of your ass. He’ll have to learn by touch, you think. Or maybe even by taste. You have absolutely no problem with that.

Ominis Gaunt is simply going to drive you mad.

For several happy, lovely months you've called the young man your classmates jokingly referred to as “Slytherin’s most eligible bachelor” your love. You’ve kissed his plush lips, memorized the sharp lines of his cheekbones with the tips of your fingers, and even draped your legs across his lap while you curled up together in a secluded corner of the Slytherin common room to study.

…Actually study, of course. Because, unfortunately, he’s kind of a tease.

In fact, the real reason he’d garnered his cheeky nickname? Not one of the girls in your year had gotten anywhere near Ominis’ bed, which, by your seventh year at Hogwarts, was admittedly uncommon.

Even when you started bringing him to the Room of Requirement for some additional privacy, hoping to tempt him into some of those intimacies you know he’s never experienced with anyone else, he’s been a perfect gentleman.

Sure, by now you’ve spent many wonderful nights tangled in the sheets with him, kissing him breathless and letting your hands roam as far as you can get away with. But Ominis wants to “take things slowly,” and you respect that.

(You’re slowly going feral over it, but you respect it.)

He takes you completely by surprise one evening when he tells you that he’s finally ready to go further with you. However, when you sit on the edge of your bed with him and ask him to clarify what that means, he balks.

“Whatever you’d like to do,” he insists, noncommittal. “I’m ready.”

“Ominis,” you say gently. “I do think we should talk about this, so we can both be comfortable.”

He bristles. “‘Both?’ You mean me.”

You bite your lip. It’s true that you are significantly more experienced than Ominis, though it’s not something you’ve talked about in great detail with him. You know that you’re his first everything, that he’d abstained from any sort of physical relationship with anyone thus far because he genuinely wanted to be in love with his partner.

You, however, had pretty much done the opposite after the residual trauma of your fifth year left you with a mindset of “you only live once.” You became more and more selective after you eventually realized that, while occasionally fun, meaningless sex didn’t make you feel better about what had happened. The only thing that did was talking about it with Ominis, which is one of several reasons you fell hopelessly in love with him.

“I mean us both,” you insist. “Just because I’ve had sex before doesn’t mean I want to rush into anything either. This is important. You are important, love.”

He softens a bit when you lace your fingers with his, tugging his hand into your lap.

“I just… I don’t know how to talk about this,” he forces out. “And not because I’m posh or repressed or anything like that, but simply because I fear I don’t know what I need to know.”

“What you need to know?” you ask curiously.

“Truthfully, most of what I’ve ever heard about sex is from the other seventh-years,” Ominis admits. “It’s not like I could have those kinds of conversations with my parents, what with the way they are. I suppose if there’s anyone I could have asked, it would be Sebastian.”

You wince a little and Ominis laughs softly, bumping his shoulder against yours.

“Don’t worry, I’m not intimidated by the two of you,” he murmurs.

You and Sebastian had been “friends with benefits” (as he’d delightedly called it) toward the end of your sixth year, and thank Merlin you’d been able to maintain your friendship after it had ended.

You wouldn’t dare assume just how much Ominis knows about that fiasco, but the real reason it ended was that the two of you were simply too alike in bed – both far too dominant. Every time you came together, it felt like a duel, which was quite fun at first but quickly became exhausting and left neither of you truly satisfied.

“Well, I suppose you could talk with Sebastian,” you agree. “He’s not, er – he’s knowledgeable enough.”

This time Ominis winces, and you pat his hand apologetically.

“You could also just ask me, you know,” you tell him. “We can talk about these things. What we like, what we don’t like, what we want to do together.”

Ominis shifts closer and presses his shoulder against yours, resting his head against the top of yours. “I know. I suppose it’s just… challenging to feel so ignorant.”

“Love,” you sigh. “You aren’t.”

“I am,” he insists ruefully. “But we can… try new things together, right?”

“Of course,” you tell him, dropping his hand so you can stand between his legs and cradle his chin in your hands to pull him in for a kiss. “As long as you’re sure you’re ready.”

“Very ready,” he murmurs, resting his hands on your waist and dragging them down to your hips, more adventurous than he usually allows himself to be.

“Besides, it’s not as if you know nothing,” you tease him. “I’m sure you know how to make yourself feel good, right?”

Ominis goes red and doesn’t offer an answer, but you don’t need one to know that you’re correct.

“I can show you how I make myself feel good.”

It only falls a little flat when Ominis pointedly asks, “‘Show’ me how?”

It’s only then that you realize Ominis had a fair reason to be nervous. He probably has much less familiarity with the female body than many of his Hogwarts classmates would have had, from studying nude forms in classical Muggle art to the risque illustrations and photographs his male counterparts pour over in secret.

He would have been excluded.

“Right, er…” you mumble, thinking on your feet. “Maybe I could… tell you what I like, and you could do it for me?”

“Do it for you?” he asks, and you blink surprisedly when you realize he doesn’t sound annoyed at all with being tasked with your pleasure.

Honestly, he sounds quite interested.

“That should work, right?” you murmur, stepping closer to him so you can unsubtly press your chest against his and drape your arms around his shoulders. “I know you’re clever, Ominis. I can tell you how to touch me, and you’ll do it?”

“Yes,” he breathes, quickly stealing a kiss and letting his hands shift all the way down to the curves of your ass.

He’ll have to learn by touch, you think. Or maybe even by taste.

You have absolutely no problem with that.

For a while you let him kiss you while his hands roam, letting him refamiliarize himself with the figure he already knows quite well beneath your uniform. Then, while his hands slip underneath your skirt to explore your bare thighs, you strip off your tie, dress shirt and brassiere. He undoubtedly hears the rustling of your clothes as you remove them, but he keeps his hands where they are until you reach down and grab his wrists.

Ominis exhales softly when you press his hands to your breasts, and you hum happily when his fingers flex against your skin.

“Touch me,” you tell him softly. “Not my clothes.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says softly. “You feel… you’re so soft.”

You giggle and arch your back into his hands, and when he drags his thumbs across your nipples, you lean down and press your forehead to his.

“Not too soft,” you counter.

“Can I… may I use my mouth on you?” Ominis asks hesitantly.

Merlin.

You’ve observed that your love certainly has an oral fixation. You suppose it could have to do with his blindness, but it could simply be a part of him like anything else. Ominis has been known to suck on quills for hours while he studies – the sugar quills from Honeydukes and, regrettably, regular ones as well – which has occasionally been distracting to some of your classmates who are driven to less-than-pure thoughts while watching him redden his mouth.

“Yes, use your mouth,” you breathe, tipping your head back when he brings his lips to your skin.

He doesn’t just immediately suck at you like some of your past partners have done in a rush. He kisses you all over – the curves of your breasts, across your collarbones, down to your navel and back up again. He’s learning you, and it’s making your head spin.

“Let’s move on,” you slur after a while, nearly dizzy from how good you feel with your skirt still on.

“May I?” Ominis asks, reaching behind you for the clasp of your skirt.

You assent and he deftly unclasps it, letting your skirt drop to the floor and leaving you in just your undergarments. But before he can tug them down – and he does try – you pause him by grabbing his wrists once more.

“I am nearly naked, and you’re fully dressed,” you remind him. “Seems unfair, love.”

“Fine,” he says with a bright laugh, leaning back onto his elbows to let you tug his tie loose and pull it over his head. You unbutton his shirt deliberately slowly, treating yourself to each new inch of bare skin you reveal as you work your way down.

When you reach the bottom, you can tell he’s quite ready for you by the state of his trousers, and you deduce those need to go as well. His breath hitches when you unbutton and unzip them for him, coaxing him into lifting his hips for you to tug them down.

After that, you both hurriedly tug off your undergarments and toss them… somewhere, to be sure.

He looks like sin sitting before you, completely nude with his long cock hard in his lap.

“Are you going to show me now?” he asks hopefully, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides.

“Mmm, soon,” you murmur. “I think I want you to show me something first.”

“You – you want to see…?” Ominis asks, his eyebrows raised. “But you know what men like, how we…”

“I know how men get themselves off, yes,” you say, finishing the sentence he lets die on his tongue. “I don’t care about what men like. I want to see what you like.”

“I can’t imagine I’m that unique,” he retorts.

“Then show me because I want to watch,” you challenge, gently pushing on his shoulders so he’ll scoot back and let you straddle his thighs. “I’m asking so nicely, Ominis.”

He exhales shakily and rests his hands on your bare hips. “Well, I usually… I usually have something to – Merlin, I have a salve, so it’s not dry.”

“Let me take care of it,” you purr, lifting one of his hands to your mouth and licking across his palm. He nearly chokes, but he lets you wet his hand for him and wrap it around his cock.

“Touch yourself,” you murmur. “Tell me what you think about when you get yourself off.”

“You,” he says quickly. “It’s always you, kissing you, touching you.”

You watch hungrily as he starts to stroke himself, observing the way he drags his thumb across his sensitive head and squeezes firmly at the base.

“Touching me how?” you encourage him.

“I… like this, touching your breasts, your bare skin,” he whispers. His other hand trails from your waist down to the crease of your hip. “Here too.”

“Do it then,” you whine. “Touch me, feel me.”

Finally, with his free hand he reaches between your thighs, tracing two fingertips along your folds. You’re already wet, and he groans softly before cursing under his breath.

“Let me show you,” you whisper, wrapping your fingers around his wrist to guide his hand.

You shift his hand up until his fingertips are pressed to your clit. “This is one of my favorite places to touch when I’m alone,” you tell him, nosing along his cheek. “Just touching here can get me off, actually.”

“R-really?” he breathes. “But what about… inside?”

“Inside, hm?” you croon. “Seems like you aren’t as ignorant as you let me believe.”

Ominis blushes a little and ducks his head, but he quickly tips his sightless gaze back up to you when you trace his fingertips along your slit to your entrance.

“Here,” you breathe. “If you want to go inside, it’s just here.”

“Can I?

“One finger first,” you tell him, and he’s perfectly gentle as he presses his long middle finger into your body.

You press your lips against his cheekbone and murmur, “Tell me how I feel, Ominis.”

“Warm. Wet, so wet,” he groans. His hand on his cock has gone completely still, forgotten in favor of exploring you with his other hand. “And – tight.”

It’s then that you have a brilliant idea.

“What if I let you use your mouth on me here?” you keen when he drags his thumb across your clit with his finger still inside you. “Would you like that?”

“I can do that?” Ominis asks. “You would want me to?”

“If you’re comfortable,” you tell him, gently running your fingers through his hair to loosen it a little from his daily coiffe. “I’d like to try it with you.”

Stunned, he nods and gently pulls out of you so that you can join him on the bed and lie on your back. Carefully, you drape one leg and then the other over his shoulders as he kneels between the apex of your thighs. You cross your ankles behind his back to coax him closer and onto his elbows, his face inches from where you most want him.

“What, er… how should I…” he asks.

“It’s instinct, love,” you croon, leaning back on your elbows and watching as he leans in a bit more, transfixed by how close he is to you. “I couldn’t possibly tell you, I’ve never done it myself.”

“Has anyone ever…?” he asks suggestively, one of his hands wrapping around your thigh.

“Ever what?” you tease him, utterly in love with the way it makes him blush harder.

“Has anyone else ever used their mouth on you?” he asks more firmly, nuzzling his temple against your inner thigh.

“Mmm, no,” you murmur.

He smirks to himself. “So I suppose I needn’t be worried about being compared.”

“Ominis,” you sigh. “I need you to do something, anything. Just try, I promise I’ll tell you if it’s working or not.”

“Please, tell me,” he requests. “I might not… It’s harder to be sure that I’m doing it right, if you’re quiet.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that will be a problem,” you reply cheekily.

Without another word, Ominis leans in and presses his tongue to your skin, licking you open with broad, curious strokes of his tongue while he learns the taste and feel of you. You quickly lose your breath as he explores your drenched core.

You gasp sharply when he presses his tongue against your clit, and he quickly asks, “How does that feel?”

“Amazing,” you breathe. “That’s good, Ominis, right there, keep going.”

Ominis simply lights up after receiving your praise, and it makes your heart race adoringly to see how much he loves this – loves you.

He becomes more and more assured as he presses his tongue against your clit, and even without his sight, he couldn’t possibly miss how your legs tremble helplessly when he moans into your body, the vibrations sending you closer and closer to your climax.

He experiments with pressing his tongue inside you as well, and it feels nice, of course it does. But it’s just not as nice as when he’s paying attention to your clit, so without thinking, you reach down and tug on his blond hair to direct his mouth back to where you want it.

This time, when Ominis moans against your clit, it’s not for your benefit.

“Did you like that?” you ask knowingly, twisting your fingers deeper into his hair. Usually it’s so perfectly coiffed, but you imagine by the time you’re through with him, it might look more like Sebastian’s does after Quidditch practice.

“Yes,” he admits, his voice nearly a whine.

“Good. Make me come and you can tell me how else you’d like me to touch you.”

Desperate to finish you off, Ominis first wraps both hands around your thighs and positively buries his face between them, his tongue flicking over and over against your clit. Then he pulls one hand back and presses the tips of two fingers against your entrance.

“Inside?” he asks quickly.

“Yes,” you grit out. “I’m so close Ominis, don’t stop.”

Obediently, he presses his long, thin fingers inside you and curls them how you tell him to, and you only last another minute under his focused ministrations before you come hard, both hands now tangled in his hair to hold him in place until you’re too sensitive to take anymore.

When you finally push his face away, Ominis looks drunk. His mouth and chin are soaked from your release, his pale skin is burning red and his hair is a wild mess.

“So…” he murmurs, dragging a thumb across his lower lip and briefly sucking it clean. “How was that?”

“Don’t be daft,” you laugh deliriously, still staring up at the ceiling. “You’re a natural, Ominis, you get an Outstanding from me.”

He smiles and rests one of his hands on your bare hip, trailing the other up your waist to your neck so he can lean down and kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

However, despite how formal his countenance often is, he’s still a young man – and not a very patient one.

“I believe you said something about touching me now?” he murmurs, kissing down your chin to your neck and gently nipping at your pulse point.

“Mmm, yes, I do think you deserve a turn,” you agree.

You reach down to wrap your hand around his cock and slowly stroke him, earning a choked-off moan and a much less gentle bite against your neck.

“Which would you like, Ominis? My hand, my mouth, or my cunt?”

Ominis curses under his breath – you can tell he likes it when you’re vulgar, despite how often he chides Sebastian for using similar language around their other mates.

He zones out for a moment, considering, so you stroke him harder to bring his focus back to you. “Tell me, love.”

“Your – your body, I want… I want to be inside you,” he admits. “But I don’t think I’m going to last very long.”

“That’s alright,” you reassure him. “It’s only your first time, we’ll have many more times to practice.”

He whines softly and presses a kiss over the bruise he’s worked into the skin below your jawline. “Many more?”

“Focus,” you tease him. “Let’s enjoy this time first, alright? Are you ready?”

You drop your hand from his cock so he can sit back and line himself up against you, and you think that this must be where some amount of instinct kicks in because the juts of his hip bones line up perfectly with the insides of your thighs without so much as a guiding hand from you.

“Good, Ominis,” you breathe, and his cock jumps, its wet tip tapping against his stomach.

He takes himself in hand and presses the head of his cock against your entrance, tracing a line from your hole to your clit and back to learn just where to press in, and then he starts to sheath himself within you.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, and you beam delightedly – you’ve never heard him talk like that before.

“That’s it, keep going,” you encourage him. “I can take all of you.”

He’s quite long, but he takes his time with you, slowly pressing in until his hips are flush with your thighs and his arms are trembling slightly as he holds himself above you.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, restraint clear in both his voice and the tense line of his jaw.

You cup your hand against the side of his face and murmur, “Not at all, you feel wonderful.”

“Can I move?” he pleads, and you breathe your yes against his lips.

Even without the muscle memory of a more experienced man, Ominis is a fast learner. He quickly sets a rhythm that has you dragging your hands down his chest and demanding more, harder, faster.

Your heart can barely take it when he simply meets your demands without a word, his hair falling into his eyes as he fucks you like it’s a gift to be inside you.

“I want to make you come again,” he confesses, leaning down to kiss you wherever he can put his mouth on you – your jaw, your shoulder, your lips. “Can I?”

“Yes,” you breathe, because your first orgasm had left you so sensitive you’re sure you can come again before Ominis finishes.

In fact, you think if you asked him, he’d make himself wait for you.

You slide a hand down your body and start to touch yourself, rubbing your clit the way you know you like when you need a release. You want to be quick – you want him to learn how it feels when you come around his cock.

“Close,” he grunts, his hands fisting in the sheets beside you. “Love, please…”

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, leaning up to nip at his lower lip. “Let me come first, Ominis, I promise it’s worth waiting for.”

“I can’t,” he whines, but you know he can – you can see how he’s straining to hold back, his stomach taut and his arms tense beside your head.

“Just a little more, love, and – ah!” you gasp, because when he sits back just a little – as if trying to physically pull back from falling over the edge – his cock presses against a spot inside you that’s just enough to make you see stars.

It’s barely seconds after you come that Ominis groans helplessly and spills inside you, his thrusts coming to a halt when he feels you become impossibly tighter around him.

You stroke your hands lazily up and down his back while he catches his breath, mercifully not dropping his full weight onto you in favor of gently rolling to the side, hooking your leg over his hip.

“What’s the verdict, then?” you ask him softly, tracing your fingertips along his jawline and smiling at the blissful look on his face.

“We’re doing that again, quite literally as soon as I can,” he pants, and you can’t help but laugh brightly and bury your face against his chest.

“How charming!” you tease him. “That’s it, hm? Have I finally made a monster of you?”

“Without a doubt,” he agrees, pressing his nose to your hair.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #my fic #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #ominis x reader #i know we love dominis but LISTEN #por que no los dos i merely offer an alternative #this is beta'd but nobody's perfect xoxo #experimenting with not using an image bc what would i POSSIBLY put so please don't let this flop

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khoipyan · 1 year

Text

I’m the Enemy, You’re the Lover.

Ever tired of you being the one to hate the other in the ‘enemies to lovers’ trope? Congratulations, you get to be the annoyance of a certain boy instead!

gn!reader (you/your), floyd leech x reader, enemies to lovers (except floyd is the one that gets annoyed with you), uhh you get called ‘fish’ because it came to me in a dream (and it’s pretty broad giggles), the card game UNO exists in this world bc why not?

notes; i’ve never seen somebody write an enemies to lovers except it’s one-sided and YOU’RE the ‘enemy’ so here ya go.

notes2; 2.3k+ WORDS OH MY GOD. have fun readong ig

1. TRY HARDER

There had been a certain boy that was bothering you lately — teal hair with a black streak to the right paired with mismatched tired, heterochromatic eyes, and a tall figure — and you didn’t know what to do about it. In fact, you were so unsure what to do that the problem eventually resolved itself.

You sat beside that certain boy in class, and saw him nearly everyday; for some reason, he’d been trying to poke fun at you. Of course, being the bigger person, you don’t let your anger get to the best of you. Actually, you didn’t feel annoyed at all, let alone angry. So what if he kept throwing paper balls at the back of your head in class? He’d eventually stop midway when the professor told him off, or he’d stop himself when he got bored.

The most memorable moment of his antics though, was when he decided to talk to you directly. It wasn’t long before he tried to have a word with you, because you captivated his interest.

“Hey, lil’ fishy. How are ya doin’?” A tall shadow hovered over your table. Was it really a shock if you already knew who it was? Floyd Leech, the infamous twin of Jade Leech, who was the vice-housewarden of Octavinelle.

You only stared at the Floyd as you took another bite of your food. So casually, you spoke: “Hello. Do I know you?”

He shook his head, “I sit behind you in class! It’s pretty hard not to know me, you know?”

“I barely noticed actually,” you spoke so nonchalantly. Unbothered. “what’s your name?”

But ever since that conversation, everything had been different. Not that it bothered you, of course. It seemed like that one, single question was enough to leave you trailed with numerous attempts of agitation everywhere you went, but ultimately it had little to no impact on you. Over the weeks, you grew almost immune to Floyd’s attempts to peeve you.

The only actual mini-dilemma you had was when he chucked an eraser-filled paper ball at your head, to which you nearly shouted, “Ow!” to a ominously quiet classroom filled with the sounds of scribbling. Seriously, what was his problem?

He even followed you around to the library when you needed to study. Poking your shoulders, draping himself all over you, flicking at the pages of your book; it was like a never-ending round of torment, and yet you were somehow able to put up with this.

Even with the heavy weight upon your shoulders, you still studied the book as well as you did when Floyd wasn’t around.

And it finally happened; Floyd stopped leaning his full weight onto your body, and sat in his own library chair properly. “You’re a tough fish to scale, you know that?”

Without missing a beat you countered back, “I never asked you to follow me like a dog at my heel,” all while still absorbed in your book.

It was silent for the rest of your study session.

2. TRIED HARDER

There had been a certain person that was bothering Floyd — there weren’t any words to describe this person, not that he could think of — and he didn’t know what to do about it. In fact, he was so unsure what to do that he soon had hit an epiphany.

Floyd no longer visited you outside of class, nor did he throw paper balls at your head. It was actually very peaceful, knowing you had a moment of peace to yourself. Company or not, you didn’t seem to mind Floyd’s antics at all.

And that greatly annoyed him.

Why were you so difficult to probe at? What could he do to get a reaction from you? He’s been trying for weeks, only to no avail. Why aren’t you scared, or pissed at him? Floyd didn’t get it at all, and eventually he just gave up; he didn’t need to understand, who cares? Not him.

Don’t even talk about his moods, it’s been a rollercoaster lately. Every time he saw you, he wanted to walk over to you and converse so badly, but he didn’t. What’s the point if he couldn’t even get one tiny frightened expression out of you? Why did he even want to talk to you so badly? What was stopping him? Floyd just wanted to push you around until you toppled over like a bowling pin.

Why did you tolerate him so much? Why not scream at him and lose your cool, like Riddle? Or why didn’t you decline his company out of fear, hatred? You clearly had no ill-intent for him, and kept up so well.

Questions. Pondering, walking back and forth while his shoes click with each step beneath him on the flooring of Mostro Lounge, it was all he could do for a few days when—

It hit him.

“No, no, it was something else,” Ace argued, still chewing his sandwich.

Deuce furrowed his eyebrows at the redhead, “Please stop talking with your mouth open. It’s… gross.”

“I agree,” You nodded along with Deuce.

Ace swallowed, and then promptly spoke. “‘Kay, sorry. But still, I stand by what I sai— Oh. Erm.”

Your head tilted at Ace with confusion, “What? Something wrong?” It’s not like some monster was standing behind him, ready to grab onto his—

OHDEARLORD—

You yelped at the pair of hands being placed on your shoulders, following with the feeling of being quite literally thrown. Not thrown violently though, but over somebody’s shoulders; Floyd Leech, is that you? Ace and Deuce only watched as you and Floyd got smaller within the distance, while you helplessly tried to get the eel to release you.

“What’s your deal all of a sudden—?” You asked.

Floyd paused, and then gave you a generous smile, “I wanna play. It’s no fun when I play by myself, right?”

“Yeah, but weren’t you fed up with me last week? You literally got up, shoved your library chair into the table so hard that it fell over, and then slammed the door on your way out.”

“Naaah. Was just a short phase, ya know how I am. Don’t worry! This time we’ll get to play together, not just me playing with you like a chew toy.”

Oh wow, how comforting! You practically stopped abusing his back with your fists as you watched the hallways rock back and forth as you were being hauled away.

3. TRY AGAIN

“UNO!”

“Floyd, you have ten cards. You call uno when you place down your second to last card.”

In what world could you have imagined yourself playing uno in Floyd’s room? This one, perhaps. You two were in pyjamas sitting on the floor of his room, playing this frustrating card game. You and him have gone through several games, a wide variety from video games, board games, to straight up watching stupid cat videos on his phone (although it was nearly impossible to see his screen, because he was holding it in front of him and you refused to lean over his shoulder to get a better look). What made Floyd treat you so nicely this time?

“Yeah, so what? Let’s play something else,” Floyd shrugged as he lazily scooped up all the UNO cards and placed them back into a ziplock bag — you heard me right, a ziplock bag, because apparently Floyd had lost the actual box for the cards — before crawling over to you and draping his body over yours. Man, was he heavy.

As you attempted to push him off (with no success), your eyes darted towards the clock; analog, but it would do. “Ah, Floyd, you see— It’s time for me to head back to my own dorm, it’s kind of late.”

You could hear an overly-dramatic sigh from him as he got off, “Tomorrow then? Maybe? Pleaaaase? You wouldn’t leave a silly little guy like me alone for too long, would you?”

Okay, that’s a new one. Add that to the list of reasons not to leave Floyd, according to himself.

“Alright, alright. Tomorrow,” you said as you gave him a warm smile, “why am I always visiting you, don’t I bore you sometimes? Not that I mind, of course.” Did you mind? Now that you thought about it, lately you have been spending more time around him. It first started as Floyd hauling you around like a heavy beanbag when he wanted to loiter around with you, but now? You would be willingly taking his hand, and he’d no longer have to throw you over his shoulder.

Floyd blinked, and then only flashed his signature toothy grin, “Because I like spending time with you, obviously!”

4. WHO TRIED HARDER?

Little did you know, that was not the reason. Not most of it, at the very least.

Floyd’s little realization was when he was in bed snacking away at his stash of treats. Don’t judge him, he gets a lil’ hungry at night.

Anyways, has he ever realized no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t get a reaction out of you? Why was that? What’s up with you? How did you manage to put up with him no matter what he did?

He actually kind of liked that. You know what, it was pretty cool.

Sure, it was fun when Floyd teased Riddle to the point of the little goldfishes’ face turning the same shade of red that his hair was, but… it was nice when you gave him no reaction. When you didn’t mind his bothering, when you didn’t mind his presence, him.

He actually had to set his snacks aside and think; he had loathed you at one point for giving him nothing in return for pestering you, isn’t that funny? Haha, ahaha. He’ll pester you again, but this time, make it better.

In fact, Floyd was already planning out the ideas in his head. Maybe he should drag you to his favourite places, or make you try his food; he’s a good cook when he wants to, after all!

There were so many things he wanted to do with you, and if you could tolerate him then, you could definitely play with him now. This time though, he’ll try to make sure you also enjoy yourself.

5. DID YOU TRY HARDER?

Recently, you had been spending lots of time with Floyd. Not that you minded though, as you previously stated that one night.

You were just lying in your bed when you thought more about it; not exactly a realization, but a thought before bed.

Floyd was treating you nicely, nicer, and you noticed. To be honest, you didn’t really want to spend so much time with him again. It wasn’t exactly worth your time, or so you thought.

However, your words were quickly proven false by Floyd (which is something you never thought could happen). It started to once a week, merely an hour, to almost everyday. At least once a day, he would greet you before heading to (or skipping) class.

The attention was nice, to be honest. Sometimes it got boring being alone, and it was alright with you at first. Loneliness is a tough thing to battle though, so Floyd was practically fighting it for you.

There was only one thought on your mind as you drifted of to sleep, your own realization:

‘I want to spend more time with you, if that’s okay. I wouldn’t mind at all.’

6. TRY YOUR HARDEST!

“Shut up! And give me the letter back, I wasn’t done writing it—!” As you reached for the unembellished letter, Floyd pushed your face away using his finger against your forehead. This little—

“Naaah. Let me read it, little fish! What’s up with you?”

Your attempts at taking the letter were failing, as Floyd read the contents. Slowly, his thrilled expression dropped, just a bit.

As Floyd read the letter, you stopped trying to grab it. This was very embarrassing. The letter wasn’t meant to be read, not ever, and especially not by Floyd himself.

“Dear Floyd,

There has been a certain Leech that was bothering me lately — teal hair with a black streak to the right paired with mismatched tired, heterochromatic eyes, and a tall figure — and I didn’t know what to do about it. In fact, I was so unsure what to do that the problem eventually resolved itself.

At first, you didn’t really catch my attention. I don’t usually give up my attention for people who attempt to pester me, which I think is fair. However, after spending lots of time with you, I’ve decided that I have taken a liking to you.

An extreme liking, though. I like spending time with you, and sometimes I even think I could spend the rest of my life with you forever. That doesn’t sound bad, does it?

Knowing that you’ll never read this letter, I can write whatever I want. So, I declare my love for you. I don’t know when I’ll tell you this (if ever, at all), but I love you.”

It was silent. The tension in the air was so thick, you could practically cut it up and serve it to people.

And then Floyd threw the letter aside, practically launching himself at you. It was hard not to fall to the ground as Floyd squeezed your life away (as gently as he could, but that wasn’t working out too well).

“Floy— Floyd, please—”

“But you LOVE me! You really really love me,” Floyd exclaimed as his grip only got tighter. “And I love you too! I knew I could win you over by dragging you around with me.”

“And what if it wasn’t a love letter?”

Floyd shrugged carelessly, “Then I’d just have to try some more.”

“And if I said no?”

“Ehh, I wouldn’t push it. I’m not like that, y’know. But you didn’t have to say no this time, ahaha!”

This was dearly embarrassing, but it did turn out well for you. You gave into Floyd’s embrace and hugged him back, with one final request:

“If it’s alright, I would like to take you somewhere this time.”

( due to be edited at anytime )

#scrib.bles🫧#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twst floyd leech #twst floyd #twisted wonderland floyd leech #twisted wonderland floyd #twst x yuu #twst x you #twst x mc #twst x y/n #floyd leech x you #floyd leech x mc #floyd leech x yuu

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spitdrunken · 2 years

Note

Rollo corruption kink???🤨🤨🤨

I wanna ruin him so bad but bros probably worse than me PFFFT

notes: corruption

PLEASE. MAYBE HE WOULD BE?? i'm still trying to figure out what type of horny he is... i just can't see him as the type of 'desperately repressed' guy, personally. to me he just kind of feels like hm,,, sex or masturbation has just never particularly interested him, and he would probably not know much more about it than what's told in mandatory school lessons. (not to mention, if it really is as pleasurable as he’s led to believe... someone such as him would not deserve it.) PLUS he spends most of his time around magic students nowadays and maybe he just wouldn’t wanna fuck them lmao. ANYWAY, ENJOY.

Rollo is a horrible kisser. Mere pecks on the lips already have him freezing up and leave him unsure of how to handle himself, much less anything more. He wouldn’t want you to stop, not even close, but he’d never be able to ask you to continue either. His own inexperience hadn’t crossed his mind much before dating you, but now he’s growing more self-conscious with every touch you bestow upon him. As diligent as he is, he would use the same strategies here as when he’s struggling with anything else: copious amounts of research.

It starts with him searching kissing tips online, trying to memorize the things one is ‘supposed’ to say or do in these scenarios. He watches kiss scenes in movies, reads how they’re described in novels, and tries to find variables that determine a good kiss. In reality, he’s not getting much better. He knows that if he were to try and copy scenes he’s seen, it would feel so unlike him that you’d likely start laughing. Perhaps he should just ask you to help him practice, and yet... His online searches eventually lead him to filthier content he’s never had much interest in viewing prior.

Watching two people making out is enough to get him slightly flustered, but only because he imagines doing such things with you. The two strangers on the screen touching each other, seeing their tongues and their spit... Makes him feel vaguely ill. It’s filthy. But your tongue caressing his own, the tip of your tongue rubbing against the top of his mouth- It makes him squirm. Rollo is no stranger to getting random erections, every guy his age gets them occasionally, but he’s certain this one is not merely random. Never before has the urge to touch himself been as strong as now. The scene on his phone screen has long since been abandoned, and all he can think about is you. He tries to pace around and wait until it goes away.

His building thoughts culminate into a single moment, where he finally makes a move while you lean in to kiss him. Rollo, despite all his research, has no idea what he’s doing, and simply pushes his tongue against your closed lips. Immediately, he pulls away.

“Ah... I, I- My apologies.” Rollo fumbles to pull his handkerchief out of his pocket, and nearly drops it to the ground in doing so. His face is burning up like never before. He feels a little better after taking a deep breath or two. “I shouldn’t have done that without asking. Was it- Are you alright?”

You smile at him, and it has his heart fluttering. “I’m fine, really! I barely felt it.” You laugh a little, but he doesn’t feel like he’s being made fun off. “But, please be honest- I know kissing isn’t like your favourite thing in the world, so you aren’t just doing this to make me happy, are you...? You don’t have to force yourself for me. In fact, please don’t.”

“I can promise you that’s not the case,” Rollo says. “This was something... Of a personal desire of mine, yes. I’ve never minded your kisses in the past either.” He crosses his arms and presses them close to his chest. “I will admit that I simply didn’t know how to respond yet. I’ve tried to educate myself further on the subject, but, ah... I’m not certain I’ve made much progress yet.”

Something in your expression, your smile, shifts a little. “The only way to get better at kissing, is through practice. Nothing else. Should we try?” Rollo’s throat suddenly feels a bit dry, but he finds himself nodding nonetheless.

When you press your lips to his, and your warm cheek presses against his cold skin, he’s already content. You mirror his previous action, the tip of your tongue brushing against his mouth. He parts his lips without hesitation. Your mouth makes a little noise as you readjust your head, tilting it a bit further to the side as you slide your tongue in. For a moment, Rollo’s surprised at how well he’s still breathing, until it feels awfully obvious.

Your tongue inside him feels both bigger and smaller than he expected. He tries to reciprocate, and though he’s sure the way he’s swirling his tongue around yours is clumsy, he hasn’t felt this good in ages. When you slide over the top of his mouth, a noise he’s never made before gets pulled from his throat. It’s a much more sensitive spot than he could have imagined.

Your kiss swept most of coherent thoughts from his mind. Once it’s over, Rollo is a little dazed and breathless. He leans forward to try and chase your touch when you pull away, without even realizing it. He doesn’t even try to hide his face. Nor does he clean it, despite a dribble of spit sliding down his skin. (It’s not filthy, as long as it comes from you.) All at once, he becomes conscious of just how warm he feels within, and folds his hands over his lap in a flurry of motion.

It’s such a sudden and suspicious movement, that you know instantly what’s happening to him, and it’s all just a little too much. He gets up in one jerky movement, pulling away from you and staring straight past you before excusing himself. The exact words he uses are immediately forgotten as soon as he says them. You don’t have a chance to protest before he’s gone and, the moment the door closes, he regrets it. Ah, he’s really hopeless, isn’t he...?

#cha.rollo #rollo flamme x reader #rollo flamm x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #cw.corruption

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angel-of-the-moons · 9 months

Text

A Rose Under the Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Domestic violence mentions, hints at child abuse, child abuse mentions violence, phantom pains

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Again, none of this is beta read. We die like the younglings Anakin snuffed in the Jedi Temple

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @bad4amficideas

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Chapter 3:

The Victims

You sighed, checking the little egg timer in your apron pocket to see how long until the scones you were baking had left in the oven. Fifteen minutes. Ugh.

It had been a few days since Steven had come in and purchased his pillar of books. The two of you would make small talk, him thumbing through books and rambling about a subject on ancient Egypt that he knew. The moment you brought up your own obscure facts you have memorized from the things your father would read to you as a little girl, Steven’s eyes lit up and he got the biggest grin on his face, and launched himself headlong into info-dump mode. It was kinda cute, really, how excitable he got. You could tell the poor guy probably didn’t have many friends, aside from his brothers, whom he’d told you about, and a friend named Layla. You also found it endearing how his messy, bed-raggled curls would flop over his face, or how animated he’d seem when he would interrupt himself to bring up another fun fact…

But, it had been a day or two since he’d come in last. And to be honest, you kinda miss the guy. He was probably the nicest most engaging customer you had. He even admitted that he didn’t come in just for the books. He told you he liked your teas and treats, and he loved the comfortable atmosphere of your shop over a crowded cafe. But one day, he just had to ask:

“I’ve been meaning to ask…” He started, looking at the muffin in his hand.

“Hm?” You hummed as you stocked shelves.

“Are these… vegan?” He seemed hesitant to touch the muffine now, as if it were poisoned.

You giggle softly. “Yes, actually. I try to use recipes that everyone can enjoy. Vegan, gluten-free…”

“Oh! Wonderful!” He scarfed the muffin down rather quickly after that, his nose buried in the textbook on archaeology he had in his hands.

You set your phone down as you sipped your spiced tea. It was a rather cold and gloomy day today, not uncommon this late in the year, but still, it sucked. It reminded you of where you grew up in Maine, off the coast. Storms blew in all the time, you’d remember as a little girl getting up in the morning, wanting to run outside and play, just to be met with a dark and angry sky, blistering winds, and pelting rain.

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Your poor little six-year-old heart was crushed one day when a particularly bad squall blew into town, and you were trapped within the confines of your house, arms crossed, feet firmly planted as you glared out the window, lip wobbling.

How dare the weather ruin your plans for the day? You were going to play in your treehouse! Now the stupid wind was gonna blow it away! And if it did, your father would have to build another one, and that would take forever!

“Hey, there, Lil’ Bit.” Your dad said, kneeling behind you, as you stubbornly looked out the window in a seething rage. So, so angry for a little girl. You inherited your temper from your mother, surely. Though you personally never saw her mad, of course. Ever. But then again, she worked so much…

Your mom was what your dad told you was a “breadwinner”, which was a term you found dumb. You mom never entered contests and she certainly never won bread as a prize. It was so dumb! Why did adults have to use such dumb words for things?

“Hey, kiddo.” Your dad sang, leaning forward from where he was crouched to put his chin on your tiny shoulder.

“No, daddy, ‘m angy.” You mumbled, trying to shrug him off as lightning flashed in the distance.

He chuckled, his voice warm, much like your favorite pair of fuzzy socks after they were just taken out of the dryer. “Come on, princess. It’ll pass. They always do.”

“But why did it have t’ do it today!” You whined, not budging.

“Dunno, kid. The sky just felt like dumping buckets, I guess.” He said, humoring you.

“Daddy...” You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Clouds don’t use buckets!”

“Sure they do!” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows at you. “You just never see em!”

“You’re silly.” You scoff.

“You’re silly!” Your dad laughed, scooping you up and spinning you around, finally getting a smile out of you as you shriek in laughter.

He tucked you against his chest and kissed you on your forehead. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you some sna–”

His eyes went wide and he gasped when you writhed, crying out and wincing like you’d just been struck.

“Babygirl, what’s wrong?” He asked, hurriedly sitting you on the couch as you curled in on yourself. He could see the welts start to peek out from beneath the sleeves of your little pink shirt.

It was happening again.

The pain in his heart gripped him like ice, knowing he couldn’t do anything to ease the pain his daughter was feeling. His poor, poor baby girl, whose soulmate was constantly being inflicted with whatever horrors they faced with.

He would curse it, sometimes. Your mark. Your bond. You were already enduring abuse that wasn’t directed at you. Or maybe it was in a way… Given that it was happening to your other half. Who you would one day meet. Maybe things will be better, when you had. Maybe.

But one thing was for sure, he hated whomever was inflicting those injuries on your soulmate more. Not only were they hurting your soulmate, they were hurting you. He’d imagined that you were close in age. If so, who the hell would abuse a child in such a way? The concept was completely foreign to him.

He rubbed your back, murmuring sweet and loving things to you.

He noticed something odd about your mark about a few years ago, right when the welts and bruises started to show and you would recoil in phantom pain... There was a new addition to your mark. At first it was one crescent moon. But then one became two, and two became three.

Right now, the bottom right moon was full.

He wasn’t sure what it meant… But he noticed your crying slow to soft little hiccups and sniffles as you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

He rested his forehead against yours. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”

“I jus’ wanna know why it hurts so much, daddy.” You sniffle.

“Trust me, I know. Me and your mom are similar. I remember when we were kids, before we met… She fell from a tree and broke her leg. Man, it hurt so bad…”

You looked up at him, your big beautiful eyes glistened with tears. Your mother’s eyes. Little gems of hers that you would always have.

“Really?” You peeped.

“Really.” He stood and walked over to the bookshelf above the living room fireplace, and plucked a book off of it. He turned back to you and sat next to you, pulling you into his lap and kissing the top of your head.

“This book came from your great auntie over in London. You remember her, yeah?” He hummed.

Your fingers grazed the cover, old and worn, obviously well-read and well-loved. It had a picture of a woman with wings and a pretty dress on it. You couldn’t read the other words on it just yet, you were still learning how to read the bigger ones.

“Want me to read you some of the stories in it?” He inquired.

“Uh-huh.” You nod.

Your father flipped the pages open, and hummed again, softer.

“Now, let’s start with the tale of Isis and the Seven Scorpions…”

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You jumped, almost dropping the egg timer you had in your hand when your shop’s door dinged and swung open. A frantic young woman rushed inside, her sunken and baggy eyes looking at you, wide with fright.

You skipped the usual welcome and regarded her with a confused expression.

“I… Can I help you–”

“Please, I just need to–to hide!” She said, rushing over to you and gripping your hand, pulling you behind her and further into the winding shelves that made up your bookstore.

“Hey, Hey.” You say, putting your hands on her shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“My–my boyfriend. He… He’s… I messed up and burned lunch and…” She looked to the side trying to check if he somehow didn’t materialize out of thin air over her shoulder when she wasn’t looking; and when she did… you saw them.

The already darkening bruises on her delicate throat.

Immediately you went into protector mode. You gently urge her towards the door leading to the stairwell that went up to your flat above.

“You hide up there, and call 999, okay?” You say to her. “You can stay here until the police arrive. If it makes you feel safer, there’s a deadbolt to the door up there. If your boyfriend comes in I’ll act like I didn’t see anything.”

You rush to the oven when you hear the timer go off, and pull out the scones (after slipping on your mitts), when the bell to your store dings.

You curse under your breath and say to the girl quietly. “Stay quiet, honey. I’ll be up when the police get here.”

You carefully slip the tasty treats onto a plastic tray and toss the pan into the sink with a clang; instantly regretting it when the young woman flinched and curled into herself, her arms instinctively reaching to cover her head.

You muttered and apology and balanced the pan on your hand as you hastily make your way down the stairs, to see whomever was incessantly dinging your “ring me!” button at the register.

When you finally break free of the labyrinthine bookshelves, you spot a rather large and angry looking man.

This had to be the boyfriend.

“Hello, one moment, please.” You say tersely, sliding the scones into the small display case showcasing the fresh treats of the day.

“Oi, you seen somebody come in here?” He demanded gruffly.

You take another visual sweep of his appearance. Rather big build, probably abuses the gym too much. He looks like he exclusively dines on protein shakes more than food… He could be trouble, if he got violent. The only upside is that you knew the layout of your little shop by heart, he didn’t. You really wished you had a gun under the counter, right about now.

You made a mental note to sign up for the courses and get the certificate from the police..

“Other than you, no, you’d be my first customer of the day.” You force the cheer into your tone as you bring a box of books and begin to half-assedly place them, hoping to look normal.

“Ain’t no fuckin’ customer.” He growled. “Don’ want no books.”

“Well, I also offer a variety of coffees, teas, and snacks–”

“I ain’t no fuckin’ customer!” He barked, getting in your face.

You could smell the alcohol on his breath. That explains the slurred speech.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask that you please back away, you’re a little too close…” You say, your hands up in a submissive gesture, hoping to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"Does it look like I giv' a fuck? Ya fuckin' muppet?" He hissed at you, his eyes dilated and glassy.

"Look, I don't want to cause trouble, but–"

He seized your arm and gripped it painfully tight, you could feel the crunch of your radiocarpal joint being squeezed under his rough and indelicate fingers. "Did ya hear me, ya fuckin' cunt? I'm lookin' for my girl, I know she came in here! Don't lie t' me!"

"Sir, people come into my store all the time, and it's not really my business why unless they buy a book or a muffin. Let me go!" You retort, trying to pry his fingers from around you with your free hand.

"Shut th' fuck up!" He snarled, pushing you back against the bookshelf so hard the back of your head cracked on one of the shelves. Great, another pain.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" An unmistakably American accent called from the door of your shop.

How had you missed the bell? How did you not notice the sound of the door opening?

The drunken man holding you turned, still gripping you. "Great, another fuckin' yank? Can't you fucks stick to ya own country?"

You felt your pulse quicken, and your eyes widened at the man who stood in the door; dark, honey-tinted eyes aflame with anger. But the man the eyes belonged to?

Dead ringer for Steven. But he carried himself entirely differently, he even had his hair styled back in a different way. He wore a white hoodie, faded blue jeans, and some steel-toe boots.

"None o' ya fuckin' busniess, you dick." The man sneered, looking back down at you.

"It is if you're hurting the lady." He said gruffly.

"Oi, you got a listening problem?"

The man turned again, but he was met with the knuckles of the American man who just came to your aid; straight to his jaw, knocking him back against a cart you had full of discount books, sending them to the floor with a clatter.

The man cracked his knuckles, before gently grabbing you by the shoulder and moving you behind him for cover.

At this distance you could just barely catch a whiff of sandalwood and some kind of spice. A hint of aftershave wafted into your senses in accompany.

"You fuckin' dick!" The man grunted, shaking his head in an attempt to reorient his brain.

"You need a better repertoire of insults, buddy. Or stop hitting the sauce." The other man sneered. "Probably both."

The drunk lunged at him, and this guy was one step ahead, intercepting him by grabbing his wrists.

The crunch of bone was enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut, and when you dared to peek again, the drunk was clutching at his now bleeding and broken nose. Your savior on the other hand?

Barely broke a sweat. He headbutted him with the hardest part of his head, crunching bone and cartilage.

"Stay down, asshole." He growled. You spun on your heels to look at the door when two clothed officers came in, hands on their pepper spray.

"Everybody just calm down!" One of them shouted.

Ugh. Now you had a headache…

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

By the time the officers, the battered girl, and her boyfriend all left, it was just you and your knight in shining hoodie. Who looked way too much like Steven.

You sat him down at one of the reading nooks and shakily wring your hands out to calm down. "Uh… Yeah, so…" You try.

"My name's Marc. Marc Spector." He said. "You, uh… met my brother, already. Steven."

You gasp. "The heathen!"

He choked out a startled laugh. "What?"

"Oh! Uhhhhhh…" You clear your throat awkwardly trying to change the subject. "You and Steven have different last names!"

Marc huffed through his nose. "It's uh… a long story."

"What, were you guys separated at birth or something? He speaks with a typical Londoner accent, you're full-blown American." You smile.

"Or something." Marc murmured, unable to meet your eyes.

"God, and Steven and I joked about my life being a setup for a book." You giggle softly. "You guys sound like you're straight out of a Dickens novel!"

Marc kind of squirmed in his seat. "Yeah…"

"So, uh… what brings you here today? From what Steven told me, you don't exactly pick up books all the time like he does." You say to him, tilting his head.

Marc wiped at his face with a groan, "Ugh. Don't get me started on Steven's books! He has too goddamn many–"

"Ah!" You say, flicking a stray curl. You weren't sure why your brain told you that was okay to do. It just felt right. The look he gave you afterwards sent your heart leaping into your throat.

Raw confusion, maybe some surprise?

"Uh… No talking like that is allowed in my store, there, pal…" You stammer out. "So… why are you here?"

"Steven said you had coffee. Didn't feel like dealing with a lot of people today." He kind of mumbled.

"Oh, I get that." You sighed softly in sympathy. Already, Marc struck you as the kinda guy who didn't like dealing with people unless he had to.

And honestly, you kinda felt for the guy. Something about him made your heart twinge in a funny little way.

"Tell you what, as a thanks for helping take care of that asshat, coffee is on the house, and I'll even give you a cup of my personal blend instead of the stuff on the menu."

"Uh, you don't have to–"

"Ah!" You say, wagging a finger at him as you walk away. "None of that in my store!"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You sat and talked for a while. Hours, really. Whereas Steven loved to babble about things he knew, and was rather energetic about it, Marc was… reserved. Shy, almost. He was content to let you lead the conversations, piping in here or there on a subject.

He told you some about his time in the Marines, and how something happened to him mentally that got him discharged early. He was vague about what he did after that, but he mentioned moving to London after he and his wife ran into problems.

At first you almost asked a rather impertinent question, "Why did you guys split up?" But decided that was far too rude of a thing to ask. Even if you wondered why he married outside of a soulmate bond. Even if a marriage like that wasn't entirely uncommon…

"I'm sorry." You say softly, sitting across from him, your coffee long finished, the mug cold. "You've been through… a lot..."

"Yeah, you can certainly say that." Marc sighed, turning his mug in his hands for probably the hundredth time.

"So… Thanks again. For y'know. Helping me." You smile.

"No problem, easy enough to deal with a drunk." He shrugged. "And he looked like he was about to hurt you, so I had to do... something."

"Well I'm glad you did that something." You chuckle.

Marc cleared his throat and smiled back, a soft thing on his face, really. But it was nice to see.

He moved to stand, "I should, ah… go. Thanks for the coffee." He reached out to hand you a few notes from his wallet, and you declined, gathering the mugs to go wash them.

"Nope, I already said it was on the house." You tell him.

"But–"

"No buts!" You called out as you vanished into the expanse of bookshelves.

When you came back, you noticed that, stacked neatly on the counter, was a bundle of notes, your egg timer sitting neatly atop it, with a post-it note simply saying:

"Tell me your life story next time. Thanks. -Marc."

Chapter 4: Link

#A Rose Under the Moon #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #soulmate au

204 notes · View notes

alwaysonthemend · 11 months

Text

Author's Note: Well, I’ve had this one halfway finished for like a week and a half but my stupid laptop broke. Finally got a new one so here we are! I dedicate this fic to @takenbythemadness – your post about Jake seeing a producer flirt with the reader inspired me in the best way. Hope y'all enjoy :)

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, choking, use of vibrator, overstimulation, dom Jakey, sir kink, pussy slapping, face slapping, dirty talk, orgasm denial, edging, passing out. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 4470

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Dating Jake Kiszka has been a roller coaster from the start – crazy and unexpected, yet fun and exhilarating all the same. Dating a rockstar comes with its ups and downs, but the two of you have managed to find a wonderful harmony with each other that even an earthquake couldn't shake. Jake makes you feel safe – protected and loved in a way that you’d never gotten to experience before. Jake has never been one for large and loud declarations of love – and he’s told you before that some of his past relationships have suffered because of it. But you have never doubted Jake’s love for you. He shows love in actions; small, little things that show you just how much you mean to him. All those other people that he’s been with in the past just weren’t paying attention.

He tells you he loves you in so many ways you lose count of them. He says it in the way he always makes sure you’re comfortable when the two of you go out. He says it when he always somehow seems to know that you’re feeling insecure or upset and he whispers in your ear how gorgeous you are. He tells you he loves you by sending you flowers to your job if you’ve told him that you’re having a bad day. He tells you he loves you when he buys you things he notices you eyeing in stores that you put back because they’re too expensive. Hell, he tells you every time you get in the car with him and your favorite songs are queued up to play. And of course, every night before the two of you fall asleep, he makes sure that the last thing he whispers to you before he drifts off is “I love you.” In fact, your relationship with Jake has been the best thing that’s ever happened to you. The two of you have a perfect synchronicity with each other – complete understanding of each other’s wants and needs.

Part of that synchronicity between the two of you is the dance that you were currently engaged in with him while he was getting ready for an interview and photoshoot. It’s a game that the two of you have played only a handful of times during your time together – but each one has been more than memorable. You're not really sure what causes it – sometimes it’s you starting it and sometimes it’s him. But it always ends with the same result: Jake fucking you so thoroughly that you can barely walk the next day.

Today is one of those days where that itch settles itself beneath your skin. You need it… badly. And there’s not much that you won’t do to get it. And the opportunity to do just that presents itself in the form of a cute producer who’s on the set today that has been intent on flirting with you from the moment you all stepped through the door. Jake was being forced to do an interview – despite his numerous and spirited protests, and he’d asked you to come with him. You’d agreed, hoping to find a chance to play your game. So, as much as you want to admire how attractive Jake looks in his all black outfit, you instead turn your attention to the cute producer.

“I’m Oliver.” He’d said, giving you a sweet smile as you and Jake had walked in.

“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” You gave him your hand to shake and the grip lingered longer than necessary – and Jake’s dark eyes hadn’t missed it.

“Are you Mr. Kiszka’s assistant?” He asked, completely ignoring Jake as he focused all of his attention on you.

Just as Jake opened his mouth to not-so-kindly let him know who exactly you are to him, you speak up first.

“Yes, something like that.”

Immediately, you see Jake’s shoulders tense and his eyes narrow at you. You just give him a smile and slide past him, just barely brushing your shoulder against his as you pass. Oliver follows you as you take a seat off to the side, in view of where the interview will be taking place. Jake gives you one last sharp look over his shoulder before walking over to sit in front of the camera.

Body thrumming with adrenaline, you turn back to Oliver and give him a smile.

“So what’s your job around here? It seems like it would be fun.” You lean in close to ask the question and give him your best flirty smile. You can see Jake from the corner of your eye, watching your every move.

“Oh, it’s very fun.” Oliver says, obviously happy that you’re engaging with him again, before launching into what he does with the company.

You do your best to listen – occasionally asking questions to keep the conversation going, but your attention is more centered on Jake as he does his interview. He’s giving wonderful and thoughtful answers to each question, but his eyes often sweep over to where you and Oliver are. Tiny glances that aren’t outright enough for others to notice… but you can. You know him too well and you can clearly see that your plan is working. Every so often, just to dig your own grave a little deeper, you reach out to put your hand on Oliver’s shoulder if he says something funny. Your conversation with him is hushed in order to not interrupt the interview, so Jake can’t hear what the two of you are talking about – all he can see is your flirty touches and the love eyes that Oliver is giving to you.

Eventually, your conversation is interrupted when the director loudly announces that the interview portion is over. You glance over to see Jake making his way towards you.

“We’ll need you back here in a moment for some pictures, Mr. Kiszka.” He says, and Jake just gives him a curt nod as he strides over to you and Oliver.

“Hi.” You say, plastering an innocent smile on your face.

“What have you two been talking about over here?” Jake asks, and his voice is laced with faux interest. To Oliver, he seems perfectly normal – but you can see the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

“Oh she was just asking me about my job here.” Oliver tells him with a polite smile.

“Wonderful.” Jake says, voice falling a little flatter. “Y/n, can I speak with you for a minute?”

“Right now?” You ask, glancing at Oliver. “We’re kind of in the middle of a conversation.”

Jake’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits and you almost regret your words. There’s no going back on your game now – but the promise of what you know is to come spurs you on even more.

“Right now.” He says coldly.

“We can talk later, Jake.”

Just as he opens his mouth to reply, another set member comes over and saves you.

“Mr. Kiszka? We’re ready for your pictures now. If you could just follow me?”

“Of course.” Jake’s tone is smooth as silk as he turns to leave, but his brown eyes lock onto yours and you can’t look away. They’re ablaze with anger and the parting smile he gives to you and Oliver isn’t convincing at all. You give Jake another sweet smile before turning your back to him, heart pounding. You’ve sealed your fate.

Oliver quickly launches back into your prior conversation, but you can barely pay him any mind – instead, your mind is awash with thoughts of the trouble that you’ve gotten yourself into. All that’s left is just a few promotional photographs of Jake and then the two of you will be on your way back home… and the thought of what lies in wait for you makes you clench your thighs together in excitement.

Both lucky and unlucky for you, the photographer is finished with Jake quickly, and you watch with wide eyes as he strides determinedly over to you as Oliver continues babbling on about something or other in your ear.

“Are you ready to go?” Jake asks, interrupting Oliver’s endless chatter.

You open your mouth to protest but you stop short upon seeing the face that Jake is giving you. One eyebrow raised – almost as if in challenge, eyes venomous and dark, and his mouth is set in a hard line. You snap your mouth shut and give him a nod.

Oliver, noticing Jake’s body language, stops short and stares between the two of you.

“I, um…” He mutters, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I think I’ve gotta go do… something or other over there.” He jerks his head towards where the director is talking with some of the other crew members.

“Oh.” You say, turning away from Jake to give Oliver your best doe eyes. “Well, it was a pleasure getting to meet you, Oliver.”

He smiles despite the tension in the air.

“It was great meeting you too. Maybe I’ll see you again some time.”

And with that, Oliver scurries away, leaving you and Jake to stand in stony silence. You glance up at him but all you see is his back as he walks slowly towards the door.

“Don’t make me have to wait on you.” He says coldly, and you frenziedly jog over to catch up with him.

The drive home is silent. You fold your hands in your lap, nervously fiddling with a stray thread on your shirt. Jake stares resolutely ahead, his grip on the steering wheel so tight his knuckles have turned white. In a desperate attempt to ease the tension, you reach over to turn the stereo on. The smooth notes of Dan Fogelburg spill through the speakers, easing the awkwardness for a moment. Without looking away from the road, Jake reaches over and turns it back off, plunging you back into silence.

By the time you arrive home, you’re sweating and a dull ache has taken up residence between your legs. Jake slams the car door shut and you follow swiftly behind him, excitement and fear thrumming through you. You enter your shared home and Jake still hasn’t looked at you – instead, he walks slowly over to the kitchen and grabs a glass from the cabinet. He grabs a bottle of bourbon and pours himself a generous amount. He takes a sip, still refusing to even look at you.

“Jake, I-”

“Shut the fuck up.” His eyes finally snap to yours and you shrink back from his angry gaze. “I’ve heard enough from you today.” He drains the last of the bourbon. “Go upstairs and strip.”

“But-”

“I told you,” he slams his glass down on the counter, “to shut the fuck up.”

He’s not yelling, but there’s nothing but pure rage in his voice. Figuring you’ve dug your hole deep enough, you practically sprint up the stairs and into yours and Jake’s bedroom. It’s dark out, and the only light in the room is spilling from the floor lamp in the corner, bathing the room in warm light. With shaky hands, you strip your clothes off you, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Your heart is beating madly in your chest and your hands are clammy as you stand naked in the middle of the room.

You snap your eyes to the door as you hear the floorboards creak.

There he stands, anger rolling off him in waves. He’s barefoot now, and his hat has been discarded elsewhere. His black shirt is completely unbuttoned, allowing your eyes to roam freely over his gorgeous torso. His eyes are stony and his face is completely void of any emotion, leaving you with nothing to gauge what your punishment is going to be.

“Get on your knees.” He orders, slipping his shirt off his shoulders. You practically collapse onto the floor and you wince, thankful that the floor is at least carpeted.

Jake strides over to you, his dark eyes pinned on yours as you look up at him. Slowly, he reaches a hand out to you, gripping your jaw tightly. He leans in close, face just inches away from your own. You can smell the liquor on his breath.

“Do you remember your safeword?”

You nod and his grip on your jaw tightens even more.

“Words, y/n.”

“Gibson, sir.”

He releases his hold on you and straightens back up.

“Good girl.”

You release a shaky breath as you glance up at him through your lashes, mouth watering at the way he’s looking at you – like he can’t decide if he wants to yell at you or kiss you. You stare, waiting for his next instruction. You can’t help but notice how close you are to his cock, hiding behind his black slacks. You want it – badly.

“You just gonna sit there and stare or are you gonna do something?” Jake asks you coldly.

“You haven’t told me what you want me to do. Sir.” The brattiness in your tone makes Jake’s eyes widen momentarily before he smooths over his expression.

“You’ve been acting like a slut all day… flirting with that stupid producer right in front of me. You really think you’re in the position to be acting like a brat right now?” He gives you a sickly sweet smile but you don’t answer him.

His hand shoots out suddenly and tangles in your hair. You let out a surprised squeak as he pulls your head back roughly, exposing your throat. He leans back down, so close that his plump lips almost touch yours.

“You’re so fucking desperate for it that you flirt with that guy just to piss me off?”

You wrap your hand around his wrist where it's tangled in your hair. You bite your lip for a moment, debating your next choice of words.

“What makes you think I’m so desperate for you? Maybe I wanted Oliver instead.”

Jake growls and the sound makes wetness practically gush from you. You can feel it dripping down your thighs.

“You really think he could fuck you the way I do?” He pulls away from you suddenly and begins to undo his belt. “Think he could make you feel the way I make you feel?” He slides his pants off himself, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

You know that no one could ever come close to bringing you the pleasure that Jake brings you, but apparently you’re a glutton for punishment.

“Maybe he could, maybe he couldn’t. Only one way to find out, though.” You give him an innocent shrug.

Without warning, Jake’s fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze. Your vision swims and a choked, meek little noise falls from between your lips.

“That little twig couldn’t fuck you half as good as I can and you fucking know it.” His grip tightens even more and your chest burns as he cuts off your air supply. “Fucking brat.”

Just as your eyes begin to roll back into your head, Jake releases you. You take in a staggering breath and cough.

“Suck my cock. And maybe I’ll think about letting you cum tonight.”

You waste no time in sliding his boxers down his powerful thighs, and your mouth waters as you take in his dick standing proudly at attention. No matter how many times you get to see it, you’re always overcome with how pretty his cock is.

Teasingly, you begin leaving little kitten licks over his head, just barely brushing your tongue against him. Before finally, you slowly wrap your lips around him and sink down until his tip nudges the back of your throat. You relax your jaw and breathe in through your nose as tears prick your eyes. Jake brings his hand to the back of your head and pushes you even further down on him, causing you to gag around him. You brace your hands on his thighs as he begins to rock his hips, fucking your mouth so deeply its taking all of your focus not to gag even more.

“Fucking take it.” Jake grits out, and you wish you could see what his face looks like as he fucks your throat. You can imagine what he probably looks like – brows pinched together and his head thrown back in pleasure. He groans and you whimper in response, more wetness dripping down between your thighs.

Jake pulls his cock from your mouth with a lewd pop and you take in a gulping breath.

“Look at you…” He says darkly, running a finger along your jaw line as he takes you in – mascara streaming down your cheeks and your hair a tangled mess. “Ready to admit who it is that you really want?”

You nod, whining as your pussy throbs with need.

“Say it.”

“You.” You tell him, and your voice sounds just as ruined as you feel. “I want you, sir.”

“Get on the bed.” You scramble to your feet, legs shaky and thighs a complete mess as you climb onto the bed. You sit in the middle and watch as he drinks in your form.

The bed sinks as Jake climbs into it. He crawls over to you and props himself up on one arm. With his other hand, he runs his calloused fingertips through the mess on your thighs, so so close to where you want him most.

“You’re fucking soaked, angel. Jesus.”

You whine and spread your legs wider, desperate for any type of relief.

“Please, Jake..” You cry, eyes screwing shut as his fingers ghost over your folds.

“Who’s pussy is this?”

“Yours, sir. All yours.”

“That’s right.” He says, swiping a finger through your folds and just barely brushing against your swollen clit. “All fucking mine.”

Without warning, he plunges his middle finger into you and you let out a wail at the stretch. He pumps into you as his thumb circles madly over your clit. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time. He adds a second finger and you cry out again, before grinding your hips downwards to meet his hand.

“Ah uh. Nope.” He pulls his fingers from you. “Don’t fucking move. You wanted to act like a slut. Now you’re gonna lay here and take it like one. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” Your entire body jolts as he slaps his palm against your cunt, drawing a pained yelp from you.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

He inserts his fingers once more, fucking into you at an agonising pace. You moan and whine, but you diligently stay in place, resisting the overwhelming urge to rock your hips in search for more.

Slowly, Jake plays you into the edge of your orgasm, and your cries only increase as you draw nearer and nearer. Just as you’re about to fall over the crest of pleasure, Jake stops his movements completely and you whine.

“Did you really think I was going to let you cum that easy, angel? After how you acted today?” He shakes his head and tsks at you. “Silly girl. You don’t fucking deserve to cum yet.”

“Jake, please.” You whine, body strung so tight you feel like you might snap, “Please give it to me.”

“Give what to you, baby?” He asks, voice saccharine and filled with faux concern.

“You know what.”

“Oh, do I?”

Slowly, he begins to circle your clit again. Over and over again, he brings you right to edge before pulling back before you can finish. It’s agony, and tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he brings you to the edge for a fourth time before he pulls away.

“Fucking hell, please! Jake, please!”

Jake just chuckles at you.

“Baby gonna cry?” He asks you with a shit eating grin.

You clench your fists in desperation.

“If you’re not gonna let me cum you should have just let me take Oliver home instead. He wouldn’t make me wait for it.”

Your head snaps to the side as Jake’s palm connects with your left cheek. The blow is hard, causing you to bite down harshly onto your tongue and the taste of blood fills your mouth.

“You just don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?” He asks, but he’s not looking for a response from you.

He sits up and reaches over to your nightstand and pulls open the drawer.

“No…” You whine, regret filling you as you realize what he’s about to do.

“Yep.” He says, pulling the cherry red vibrator out and shutting the door back. “Act like a brat and you get treated like one.”

He clicks the button and turns the vibrator on, and you can immediately tell by the sound that he has it on the highest setting. He settles himself between your thighs, hovering the toy just above your dripping cunt.

“Color?” He asks you, dropping the act for a moment.

“Green.”

No sooner had the word left your lips and Jake pressed the toy onto your clit. You yelp and your thighs instinctively try to close but he stops you easily. The stimulation is so much and your whole body feels like it’s on fire as Jake begins to make slow circles on your clit with the vibrator. White hot pain and pleasure course through you and you whine loudly – high pitched and desperate.

“Jake. Jake! Oh shit.” You grind out through clenched teeth.

“I don’t give a fuck.” He says, and presses the toy onto your clit even more. “If you wanna cum, you’re gonna cum from this.”

You could sob at his words. It’s too much and your body practically vibrates as he continues his assault on your clit. And yet somehow, you feel the coil starting to tighten in your belly. It hurts but the pleasure is still there despite the overstimulation as you moan and cry out.

“God, look at you. You gonna cum from this, angel? I know you can.”

You squirm beneath his ministrations and crack your eyes open to see him staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust. He’s rocking his hips into the bed, grinding his cock into the soft covers as he looks for some relief of his own. Your eyes roll back into your head as you hear him groan.

“Cum. Do it, angel. Cum for me,”

The band snaps and you're cumming, hard and violent. Your head feels like it’s in the clouds as the pleasure courses through you. Jake pulls the vibrator away from your poor clit and turns it off, tossing it to lay on the bed beside you. You lay there, brain fuzzy as you come down from your high.

“You ready for my cock, y/n? Ready for me to fuck you?”

You nod your head feverishly, body too weak to do much else. Your whole body is covered in sweat as your chest heaves.

“Get on your hands and knees, angel.”

You comply, rising shakily to get into the position he asked for. You sink your weight down on your forearms so that your ass sticks up in the air. You wiggle backwards, renewed desire for his cock coursing through you.

Jake pumps himself a few times before he nudges his tip through your folds, sliding through your wetness before he presses his cock into you. Slowly, he bottoms out, and the both of you moan loudly. He places both hands on your ass cheeks, digging his fingers into the meat of them as he begins to thrust into you. The stretch feels so good on your abused cunt, and all you can do is whine with each thrust into your pussy.

“God, you feel like heaven wrapped around me.” He groans, still thrusting into you agonizingly slow.

“Jake…” You whine, pressing your ass back into him. “You feel so good.”

“Yeah?” He whispers, picking up his pace slightly. “Who else can fuck you like I do, angel?” He punctuates his question with a particularly hard thrust that has you clenching around him.

“No one, Jake. No one.”

“Roll over. Wanna see you.”

Jake pulls out and flips you so that you��re on your back. He grabs your leg and tosses it over his shoulder before he guides his cock back into you. The new angle has his tip brushing against your cervix with each thrust and you wail his name. Sweat beads along his hairline and drips down his neck and his face is flushed as he pounds into you. Little grunts and moans fall from his lips and all you can do is just lie there and take it. Your tits bounce with each thrust and the sound of his hips hitting yours is loud and ridiculously pornographic.

“Angel, I’m so fucking close.” He groans out. “Give me one more.”

He places his hand on your lower belly, feeling himself inside as he fucks into you.

“You feel that?” He asks, voice sounding wrecked. “Feel how deep I am? God, fuck!” He curses, rhythm beginning to falter. He’s trying to hold on, waiting for you to cum first.

And you can feel him. He’s fucking you so hard and deep it’s like your brain can’t remember anything but the pleasure he’s giving you. You aren’t thinking – your mind reduced to nothing but Jake, Jake, Jake.

Again, that familiar feeling begins to claw up inside of you.

“Jake!” You scream, raking your nails down his back and leaving red marks in their wake. “Don’t stop. Please!”

“Fuck, y/n. I’m so- fuck.” He whines loudly and the sound pushes you over the edge.

You clench around him and you can feel him spill into you as your orgasm tears through you. Jake’s mouth is open in a silent scream as he cums. He keeps fucking you through both of your releases and you scream his name over and over as your climax keeps fucking going.

You open your eyes to see Jake’s chocolate eyes staring at you, filled with concern.

“Fuck, are you okay?”

As you become more aware of your surroundings, you notice that you’ve been cleaned up and Jake’s sweat-damp hair is beginning to dry.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” You paused for a moment before adding, “I think.”

“You scared me. Are you sure you’re okay? I shouldn’t have gone that hard…” He trails off, staring at you looking like a kicked puppy.

“Jake,” you smile at him, “I promise I’m okay, More than okay, actually.”

“Don’t ever do that again.”

“What exactly did I do?” You asked, sitting up to look at him more clearly. “Did I pass out?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, shit.” You giggled, shaking your head.

“It’s not funny!” He protested, but his lips quirked into a smile despite himself. “You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Well, I was asking for it.”

“Fair. You were being quite the brat.” He said, laughing lightly.

You shrugged.

“Had to get you riled up somehow, didn’t I? Besides, that was totally worth it.”

“I am pretty good, huh?”

You slapped his chest playfully.

“I’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I?”

“Angel, no one is going to hear the end of this.”

--------------------

if you're reading this, i love you!

taglist:

@sacredjake

@ignite-my-fire

@demolitionndann

@brujamagik

@mybussyinchrist

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #dee's writing

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bsdbeloveds · 6 months

Text

BSD men nipple play drabbles pt. 2

BSD men x fem!reader

warnings: femdom, brat taming, semi-public sex

sorry this one's a bit shorter than the last one! lmk if you guys have any requests

ranpo, sigma

ranpo- he’s a lazy sub of course he likes his nipples being played with

you and your boyfriend lazed on the couch, his head resting on your thighs while you stroked his hair. You were watching surfs up 2 “this plot is so predictable,” he complained, hand reaching for another chip in the snack bowl “i’m bored!” ranpo exclaimed as the movie progressed “every prediction i’ve made has been true” he pouts, crossing his arms. “Hm, why don’t we make this movie a little more fun then?” he immediately perks up at the suggestion, sitting up from your lap. of course he knew what you were insinuating, but he decided to play along anyway. “and how do you plan to do that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. “just sit there nice and pretty for me, kay?” you slide off of the couch and kneel in front of your boyfriend. you pull down his pajama pants, you could see he was already half hard through his minecraft boxer briefs. as you rub your hand along his clothed length, you hear him exhale and give a soft moan. you move your hand away and pull down his underwear. his cute cock slaps against his stomach. “aw, already hard for me sugar?” you tease. “just get on with it!” he exclaims, pouting slightly. you grab his appendage and begin stroking it softly. you bring your mouth to the tip, circling it with your tongue. you encase your mouth around it, but don’t move any further down his length. his tip sat heavy on your tongue as you suckled it. ranpo weaved his hands through your hair trying to force your head further, whining pathetically. you immediately let off of him “did i say you could touch me?” “n-no i’m sorry please keep going.. please” he whines again. he places his arms back by his sides, gripping the couch cushions. “good boy” you praise, before sucking his tip back into your mouth. the fact he couldn’t touch you didn’t stop him from squirming around and trying to buck his hips further into your inviting mouth. one of your hands grabs the remaining length of his dick and strokes it while your other hand reaches towards his chest, grazing over his nipple. you run your thumb along it, circling it back and forth. he lets out a high pitched moan, his head thrown back with drool dribbling down his chin. “m-more!” he begs. you remove your other hand from his cock and slowly inch your mouth down until your lips meet his pelvis. “wait! c-cumming!” he exclaims, his release filling your mouth.

sigma- he did not know nipples could feel good. would be whining within seconds

walking into sigma’s office, you are greeted by your overworked boyfriend looking disheveled and buried in paperwork, which unfortunately wasn’t an uncommon sight. Sigma was always bombarded with tasks and complaints, on top of that having to memorize everything about his patrons, the least you could do was help him destress. The casino never sleeps, but that can’t be helped. “How was your day, my love?” you question, anticipating an answer similar to the previous ones you've been given this past week. The holiday season was approaching, and while the holidays are great for business, Sigma was the one left to deal with the mess of managing everything. he just buried his face in his hands and shook his head in response. “I know baby,” you lovingly rub your hand along his upper back in an attempt to soothe him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “You’ve been working so hard lately, let me take care of you baby” he removes his hands from his face and looks at you with his tired gaze, blushing slightly he asks “what do you mean?” you smile softly at him “just relax for me, okay?” he lets out a deep exhale and nods his head “o-okay” you notice his posture begin to soften as you lead his jaw to your own in a kiss. “such a good boy,” the flush on his cheeks grew deeper as he whimpered softly, he didn’t even realize just how pent up he’d been after hours of work. “someone’s feeling needy, hm?” you teased, gently biting his lip. Before he knew what was going on, you straddled him on his fancy office chair and caressed his chest, unbuttoning his vest and button down, slipping his tie off and removing the turtleneck underneath. “are you sure we should be doing this here?” he asks worriedly, eyes darting around the room. “Just stay quiet for me, love” his exposed nipples hardened in the cool office air, he knew the idea of someone walking in was highly unprofessional, but he couldn’t help but feel his cock straining against his dress pants. The thought certainly excited him, his heart was racing “w-wait what if someone walks in?” “we won’t need to worry about that if you can stay quiet f’me” you silence him with a kiss and move your hands back down to his chest, and to sigma’s surprise, circling your finger along his areola. A surprised yelp escapes his lips “what did i say about staying quiet, baby?” “w-what are you doing?” he asks with wide eyes “just sit back for me” he gives you another worried look, but complies anyway. He gasps sharply when you pinch his nipple, the sensation was so new to him he wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, but his body did. You lead your mouth down his chest, peppering kisses along the way. He let out a high pitched whine and moaned from the sudden contact of your mouth on his nipple. Any worry he had before about someone walking in was disregarded as soon as you began to suck and nip at his chest, he began moaning with no awareness of how loud he was being. You stopped suddenly, causing him to whine “open your mouth,” you ordered him, without hesitation he opened wide and you stuck your index and middle fingers in his mouth. “suck on them” you commanded. He complied immediately and you continued where you left off. drool coated your fingers as you listened to his muffled moans. You could tell he was close, licking and sucking at his sensitive nipples was causing him to buck his clothed hips into yours. You shoved a hand into his pants and grabbed his cock, hurriedly stroking it. Sigma could barely hold back any longer. you bit down harshly, and he came with a choked sob. hot ropes of cum coated your hand. You brought your hand to your lips and licked the cum off of your dirtied fingers as sigma watched, a fucked out expression on his face. You tenderly kissed his forehead and stroked his soft hair as he buried his face into your chest, he was exhausted after all.

#bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x female reader #ranpo x reader #bsd ranpo #bsd rampo #sigma bsd #sigma bungou stray dogs #sigma x reader #bsd sigma #ranpo x you #sigma x you #ranpo x y/n #sigma x y/n

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halfway-happyyy · 1 year

Text

into gold I {rooster bradshaw}

synopsis: rooster bradshaw’s emotional baggage could fill a cargo container ten times over. he is the single father of a precocious and bubbly six-year-old, and despite his best efforts, has fallen head over heels for someone arguably more damaged than him- his daughter’s first grade teacher.

i originally wrote this part in july of last year, but re-wrote it recently to breathe new life into it. this will be a multi-part piece. no warnings as of yet, but there will be some in the future. i don’t normally write multi-part pieces, so please be gentle.

characters- bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, frankie bradshaw, female ooc scout wallis (she/her pronouns)

Rooster Bradshaw is of the general opinion that the universe does not fight for souls to be together.

He tells himself this every time he starts to feel close to someone; that despite their beauty, their money, their career, the way they flirt, the way they fuck- the universe has never sided with him, and it certainly isn't about to start now, so why bother?

But then Friday morning rolls around and he's fifteen minutes late to meet with his daughter's teacher and when he finally gets to her classroom, he has an entire speech prepared. But then she glances up at him from the test that she’s grading and every single word he memorized on the way there evaporates into thin air. Suddenly the idea of the universe intervening on his behalf doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all.

“Hi Miss Wallis.” He murmurs, breathlessly.

The red pen in her grasp stills, her gaze sharp as a knife. “You’re late, Mr. Bradshaw.”

He swallows hard; tries to focus on anything other than her being genuinely one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen.

“I got caught up in traffic.”

She rises from her chair to stand in front of her desk and Rooster notices the sundress she has on is covered in hand-drawn safari animals- giraffes, cheetahs, flamingos- and it somehow endears him to her a little bit more. “I wanted to have a quick talk with you about Frankie.” Despite her initial disappointment with him, her face lights up, and her tone softens when she mentions his daughter’s name. “And let me start off by saying that she is a joy to have in the classroom.”

Rooster smiles at that.

“She is inquisitive and intelligent and kind, but she’s also extremely quiet. Getting her to participate with her classmates has been a challenge, to say the least.” She drags her bottom lip between her teeth in thought, and Rooster finds that he must try twice as hard to concentrate on the conversation at hand. “Has she ever mentioned anything to you about the way the other students treat her?”

Rooster blanches. “No, in fact she constantly tells me how much she loves going to school.”

Frankie's teacher smiles briefly. “I’ve caught a few of the other students bullying her- making fun of the jokes she tells, the way she dresses, and they’ve been spoken too and dealt with accordingly, but I just wanted to have an open and frank conversation with you about it to let you know what’s been going on. We take this kind of stuff quite seriously here, and there is a plan in place for if it continues.”

Shifting from foot to foot, he says, “Well, I do appreciate the communication. It hasn't always been easy with just the two of us, but we make do...” It bothers him that at six years old, and with everything she’s gone through in her short life, she hasn’t felt like she could tell him about what’s really been going on with her. “I will make sure to speak with her this weekend, and I really do appreciate you setting this up.” He glances around the room and at the myriads of artwork that decorate every square inch of wall space. It’s obvious to him how much her students adore her, and it causes Rooster’s heart to swell, knowing his pride and joy is in good hands when she’s here. He feels her gaze on him, and it makes his cheeks flame under the florescent lighting.

“Would you like to see some of her work before you leave?”

Rooster nods emphatically; would love nothing more. She guides him over to a spot at the front of the room where a bunch of drawings hang beneath a sign titled, 'What Makes You Happy?' She points to a drawing in the centre of the wall. It depicts six roughly drawn stick figures; five adults and a child. Two of the adults- a man and a woman - are in the sky next to a smiling sun, with what look to be angel wings protruding from their backs. Rooster’s breath hitches in his throat, and his eyes immediately begin to prickle with looming tears. He thinks of his parents often and wonders where they are and if they would be proud of the way he’s raising their granddaughter. His gaze moves to the three adults on the ground who stand around the child, and a fat orange cat lounges at the child’s feet.

“I want a cat more than anything in the world, daddy.”

“We’re not ready yet, Frankie. But someday soon, perhaps.”

“She cares very deeply for her family.” She murmurs, thoughtfully. “She is constantly talking of them. Especially her grandparent’s.”

Emotion swells in the hollow of his throat, and he swallows hard to rid himself of it. “I try to talk about them with her as much as I can, but it isn’t always easy.”

“No. It isn't, is it?” Her wistful tone tells him that she knows a thing or two about loss as well.

Silence settles like dust between them, and he glances at the watch on the underside of his wrist. Twenty to eight. “I want to apologize for my lateness this morning.”

They wander over to her door, and she shrugs. “It’s nice that you showed up at all, honestly. You can’t imagine how many parents don’t.”

“I’d like to make it up to you.”

Her smile is wry as she cocks her head to the side, playing coy with him. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’d like to make it up to you for wasting your time. Take you out for drink or food, or anything really.”

She shakes her head, and her eyes twinkle mischievously. “That isn’t necessary, Mr. Bradshaw. Regardless, I don’t date my students’ parents.”

Rooster laughs easily. “But you could make an exception?”

It’s her turn to laugh now. “Even if I did, another rule that I have is that I don’t date men in the military.”

Rooster reckons she’s got him there, so he concedes on the point for now. “Alright, if you say so. But if you find yourself having a sudden change of heart- you know how to get a hold of me.”

She ushers him out into the hallway, with a wide grin pulling the edges of her lips skyward. “Good day, Mr. Bradshaw.”

“Good day, Miss Wallis.”

Frankie’s first grade teacher lingers in his mind long after she’s gone from his presence. He wonders how it came to be that they’d never crossed paths before and has a sudden, sneaking suspicion that she may be one of the only reasons Frankie enjoys going to school as much as she does. He thinks about his daughter then; how he had dropped her off at Penny’s last night for the weekend, but still misses her with every fiber of his being and makes a mental note to call her as soon as he’s done work for the day. Arriving on base, he allows himself a moment in the Bronco to watch a super hornet prepare for flight. Something aches somewhere deep in his heart; makes him irrevocably nostalgic for the good ol’ days. And it isn’t that he minds instructing for TOPGUN- on the contrary, it’s been a fantastic job to have that still ensures he gets some time in his beloved planes, but he would be lying to anyone if he said he didn’t miss the thrill of being called to missions.

“You coming out tonight, Bradshaw?” Jake slaps the doorframe twice and pokes his head into Rooster’s room an hour later.

He’s about to protest- could think of a million other things he’d rather do than hit the Hard Deck with Jake and the others- except that he can’t come up with a single reason, so he shrugs sheepishly. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“No Frankie this weekend?”

Rooster shakes his head. “Mav and Penny wanted to take her out on a little trip on the water.”

“Excellent. See you then, buddy.”

“It’s easily one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.” Bob must yell above the din of the bar to be heard. Taking a long slug off the beer in his hand, he takes his phone out of his pocket and is entirely too careful not to let it touch the wooden bar. “Do you want to see a picture of him?”

Rooster nods enthusiastically. “I would love to see a picture of your cat, Bob.”

He holds up his phone, and Rooster’s suddenly struck by the uncanny resemblance of the cat on the screen to the cat in Frankie’s drawing from this morning. “Have you by any chance shown Frankie a picture of…” He trails off because he cannot remember what Bob’s cat is called, for the life of him.

“His name is Ulysses. And yes, Frankie and I have had many conversations about him.”

Rooster laughs and finishes the last of the hoppy amber liquid in his pint glass. “So, I guess I have you to thank for her newest obsession with felines.”

Bob’s smile is sheepish.

“Now, how did that happen?” Phoenix's laugh is incredulous as she gestures to the front entrance of the Hard Deck.

Rooster cranes around in his seat at the bar and nearly drops the empty glass in his hand when he catches sight of Jake Seresin arm in arm with none other than Frankie's first grade teacher.

“Did you know he was dating anyone?” Fanboy peers over at Coyote expectantly, who looks just as perplexed as everyone else.

“Nope.”

Rooster considers making a run for it; reckons his odds are pretty good if he can get Phoenix and Bob to distract the two of them for long enough. He’s about to slide his credit card over the bar to Jimmy when the unmistakable sound of Jake's laughter causes the hair to prickle at the nape of his neck.

“Not trying to run away on us, are ya Bradshaw? There's someone I’d like to introduce you to.”

She’s sporting a different dress than this morning; some sort of black silk number that Rooster thinks would look perfect pooled on his hardwood floor, and he clears his throat before his thoughts run away on him. “A pleasure to meet you.” He extends a hand for her to shake, which she accepts hesitantly. Her cheeks are flushed, and Rooster can only guess at why.

Hangman gazes at the elder naval pilot, his expression smug. “I actually have you to thank, Rooster.”

Rooster eyes him wearily- can’t imagine what game he's playing at. “Is that so?”

“Yep. I met Scout here, two months ago when I did Frankie’s school run for you.”

He glances over at the woman he had first met only mere hours earlier and who is hell-bent on looking everywhere but at him and all he can think is… so much for not dating a military man.

Jake presses a chaste kiss to her cheek and passes by the bar to join Coyote at the well-worn dart board in the corner of the room.

“I suppose I owe you an explanation, huh?” She murmurs, dropping into the seat next to Rooster.

He’s about to flag Jimmy down for another beer, but the seasoned barkeeper beats him to it by sliding a frothy glass over with a knowing smile. Rooster takes a deep sip and levels his gaze with Scout’s.

“You don’t owe me anything.”

And he means it. He’s simply content just to be in her presence again.

After a few quiet moments, she tilts her head to the side, and flashes a smile that makes Rooster feel like he’s known her since the beginning of everything. “Jake told me on the way here that you’re the guy to go to if I want to hear a song on the piano.”

Rooster’s not exactly sure where this is coming from, but if it means getting her to smile like that again for him, he reckons there isn’t much in the world he wouldn’t do.

“He did, did he?”

“He sure did. I’m Scout, by the way.”

Scout. He rolls her name around in his mind, liking the notion of it making a permanent home there.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you again, Scout. I’m Bradley Bradshaw.”

“But you go by Rooster?” She asks.

He shifts in his seat, nodding his head in silent confirmation.

“Which do you prefer to be called?”

And what Rooster really wants to say is, you can call me anything your pretty little heart desires. But what he says is, “Rooster. It makes me feel closer to my old man.”

There’s a story there. She’s seconds away from asking about it and he’s seconds away from telling it to her, but then a shadow falls over the glossy wooden countertop and Jake appears behind her, placing an impossibly tan hand over the rounded curve of her shoulder.

“Well, did you ask him?”

“Pool table’s ours, Hangman!” Someone calls out over the din around them.

Jake doesn’t wait for her to reply before he bends down to whisper something in her ear which Rooster doesn’t quite hear, but still causes a wave of something unpleasant to bloom in the pit of his stomach.

“He’ll take good care of you, Scout.” Jake simpers by way of goodbye, throwing a wink at Rooster before backing away into the crowd.

“About that song…” Scout murmurs.

Rooster takes another deep slug from his pint glass and levels his gaze with hers again. “I’ll play you anything you want to hear.”

Scout taps a finger against her chin in contemplation. “Anything?”

Rooster nods.

“Alright. I’ve got it. But I want you to tell me something about yourself first.”

A puff of air exits his mouth in a low whistle; he wasn't expecting that one. “Anything?”

She nods.

Where to begin? Don’t scare her off now, Bradshaw.

“Well, you already know about Frankie. I could write novels about my love for her. But I suppose something I don’t talk about very often is the fact that I wasn’t always sure I would fly planes for the Navy for a living.” If Scout seems surprised by this revelation, she doesn’t show it. “In fact, I had big dreams of playing for the MLB. I’m sure my mom would have preferred that; God rest her soul.” Rooster smiles around the rim of his glass at the memory of his mother.

“What happened?” Scout asks, earnestly.

Rooster swallows hard, and wonders just how much of himself he should share with her. “Car crash, first year of university. Broke a lot of shit, crushed a lot of MLB-imperative body parts.” He doesn’t let his thoughts stray as far this time before he poses the question to her.

“I’m relatively new to teaching; I’ve only been doing it for the last couple of years, but it’s one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself. My kids mean everything to me.” She talks about it all with such conviction that Rooster has no choice but to believe her every word.

A comfortable silence befalls them before Rooster sighs and says, “Alright, Scout Wallis. What’ll it be?”

Scout grins and rises from her seat, holding her hand out to Rooster like a beacon. “I’d like to hear Great Balls of Fire.”

Genuine laughter bubbles up from the base his throat, and as the gold-dust woman before him leads him to the well-loved piano in the center of the bar, he wonders two things. The first being, how Jake Seresin ended up getting to her first, and how on Earth it's possible to be in love with someone after a day.

#rooster bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #tgm #miles teller #rooster bradshaw fanfic #writing #masterlist

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hyatoro · 1 year

Note

Hello! Firstly, i LOVE your writing! It's so nice to read and it's very enjoyable. This is also my first ask with you. Unfortunately I am not too sure whether this counts as an outline or a headcannon (from my understanding headcannons are about the character itself and outlines are more like headcannons for the scenario but im not sure??? maybe this is a outline???). No worries if you don't to of course!

Anyway, may I have an NSFW about Hwang Minso spending his heat with reader? Especially if it's just really sweet and fluffy in a way. I think he deserves the tenderness, y'know? Bonus if the affection is like a warm blast of sunshine on a dreary day. (I imagine, Alpha reader is being sweet and fluffy and just really gentle but the unwavering attention and tenderness is overwhelming for the guy and so sweet it burns in a way. I want the guy to be overwhelmed by it. I imagine he's begging for more and more even if he's overstimulated though reader would stop in a heartbeat if he needed them to)

Again, no pressure!

Headcanons are just fast fun facts with no real timeline in mind. The scenario “outlines” are basically what I’ve been doing where it’s a scenario, but I don’t put in the full effort of making it a fic even if it may seem like one.

The definitions are loose as hell and I tend to just write what I want. The two reasons why I have the outline distinction is because I don’t need the pressure of cranking out a fully polished work and it also shows who reads my rules. Thank you by the way for asking!

The writing below probably leans more towards full blown fic but the difference is that I would’ve gone into a lot more detail for one instead of an ‘outline’.

Onto the actual content!

Hwang Minsu

The man couldn’t believe he’d gotten this far. It all started with a chance encounter where he met you. The light of his life, and the reason why he evolved from the mindless zombie he was.

You accepted him into your life. Even after you caught him pulling your empty can out of the recycling. Even when you were initially weirded out, you gave him another chance.

You’d even asked him out. On a date! And then you asked if he wanted to date you too!

Honestly he questioned it a bit, scared that it was all some sort of sick joke life was playing on him. But you showed him consistency and proved yourself reliable, not that he had any doubts in you as a person. You were perfect.

It was amazing, having schedules that were similar. The two of you took to the nights like it was your own kingdom and every night with you was memorable.

His favorite so far was the time you two went to karaoke. You watched him with adoration, a sight he had to familiarize himself with, as he sang his heart out badly. He knew he wasn’t a great singer and it didn’t faze you one bit. You were just happy that he felt comfortable enough to do so in front of you.

And when you pulled him into your lap, rewarding him with kisses as you chose your next song, he knew there was no turning back for him. Not when you were all that was ahead.

Now here he was, opening the door to you. Well, a giant pile of your clothes and blankets hiding your face. But you were behind it all.

He shuffled out of the way and let you in, catching any garments that fell to the ground behind you. His eyes widened however when you dropped everything unceremoniously to the ground.

“Just arrange everything how you want it, baby. Let me know if you need help.”

The ugly face he made as he held back tears made you laugh affectionately, stepping towards him to cradle his face gently and kiss his forehead. His face got even more scrunched up as he placed his hands on yours, holding them there.

Once he got over that surge of emotions he enlisted your help in making his nest, the most elaborate he’d ever made in his life. Considering what had happened when around the time he started to get more intense heats he never really had the guidance nor the chance to go all out.

You help him arrange everything so that it’s cozy but roomy enough to fit two people. His mattress was on the floor so it made everything easier.

As he got comfortable you left the apartment and he sat up, panicking a little wondering where you were going. But you quickly returned with a bunch of food, drinks, and other supplies for his heat. His face scrunched again as he pouted, almost telling you that you didn’t have to, but the look on your face stops him. Instead, he opens his arms and you crawl into his nest, kissing his cheeks as you two lay down together.

He’s content to lay in your arms as you fall asleep, awaiting for the wave to come crashing. He sleeps easily so you’re more than welcome to watch TV or scroll through your phone. All he needed at that moment was your warmth and scent.

When he wakes up he’s burning and he’s half-expecting you to not be there. For this all to have been some sort of sick dream that his heat-addled mind concocted. But you’re there. As real as ever, and he whines loudly when he buries himself into your neck, grinding on you.

You stir awake easily enough and your mind slowly catches up with the fact that your boyfriend is in heat. When you finally realize what’s happening you get up and immediately get to work. Your hand slides under his baggy t-shirt, caressing his burning skin as he whines even more. When you help him out of it you don’t leave a spot untouched, for which he is grateful for.

Then you palm him through his pants and he cries out, already begging you for more. To hurry up and get rid of all the clothes on both of you. Ever the kind partner, you oblige.

He’s panting and spread out on the mattress, surrounded by both of your belongings.

His scent is the strongest it’s ever been and you pounce on him, kissing him senseless as your nose welcomes the pleasant notes of passionfruit. He’s so lovely under your touch, moaning and whining for you, hips constantly bucking up for more.

Despite how much his body naturally prepared itself you still reach for your supplies, adding more lube to his hole. His eyes practically turn into hearts when he sees you stroking your alpha cock with even more lube.

His hole fluttered and his cock twitched as he shifted his hips closer to you in an attempt to put you inside.

Ever merciful, you test him with a few fingers, and he mewls at the way you spread them, feeling how you stretch his pussy like that. But he’s impatient and tells you to please stop teasing him. You’re not, but you can understand where he’s coming from. You mentally note to show him what teasing really feels like another day.

Thanks every being in existence and every moment in history for how it led to the moment where you finally shove it in. Yeah, he’s dramatic.

Instantly clings to you. His hands grasp at your back and you’re grateful he keeps his nails short as he scratches your back to fuck him harder.

He needs the first one hard and fast, he explains. And you listen. Your precious little omega deserves the world during his heat.

His cries fill the small apartment as he cums quickly, spurting out white ropes in between you. And just as fast as he came he tells you to keep going. You’re still good to go so you keep it up.

You guys spend the next few hours fucking on every surface in the apartment until you end back up on the mattress, where his legs shake and he’s got cum dripping from both his cock and pussy. When he tries to ask for more, you chuckle and shake your head, telling him that he can barely move and that it’s time for rest.

You use what’s left of your own energy cleaning him up and changing the heavily soiled sheets to get him comfortable, urging him to sit up to eat and drink before falling back asleep.

Despite having asked for more, he was more than content, absolutely satisfied on all fronts. His red butt and bruised hips were neat little reminders of the mess you two made.

When you finish cleaning up from that first bout of his heat you rejoin him in the nest, peppering kisses all over his face until he sighs happily into your neck again. Because you were content and calm your scent was too, and it worked wonders in relaxing his muscles as he melted into you.

He fell back asleep, amazed that he knew you’d be there for him when he woke up again.

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