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sukunasteeth · 1 year ago

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Sukuna has never said no to you.

It didn’t matter what the request was, simple or complicated, easy to fix or a days-long job, Sukuna was always at your side, completing the task as fast as he needed to to keep you satisfied. He would love to deny it, you’re sure, but evidence proves time and time again that he puts your needs and wants at the top of his priority list.

And you were curious how far you could go with it.

The two of you are sitting in your underwear at the breakfast nook, warming yourselves in the bay window while the morning sun starts on the leftover night time chill. It wasn't quite time for breakfast, still too early for the both of you. In the meantime, you sip on your morning brews, preserving the comfortable silence. Sukuna is flipping through the day's newspaper, his eyes are groggy with sleep and he hasn't said more than a handful of words to you yet. He wasn't a morning person.

You were starting to change that.

"Kuna," You call to him, nudging him with your foot from your corner of the window bench.

"Hmm?" He doesn't look up from the paper, but his hand reaches down and grabs your foot, pulling it into his lap. His thumbs start to subconsciously knead at your muscles.

"I want these." You hold up your phone, which you had previously been scrolling through in an attempt to find something ridiculous for this exact moment. You were sure you had found it, something even Sukuna would find unnecessary.

And yet, he merely glances at your screen, takes in the sight for all of two seconds, and then returns his attention to whatever news article he was in the middle of.

"My wallet's on the counter." He clears the sleep from his throat not sparing a second look.

You blink at him in surprise.

"D-Did you even see what it is?" You flip your phone around to make sure you were displaying the correct thing.

Sukuna is frowning before he looks up again, curious at your persistence. He gently cups your hand, bringing it only a minuscule amount closer to examine your screen a second time.

You were on one of the most luxurious brand’s websites, showing him an incredibly regular pair of panties, no straps, no details, all black- with one of the most outrageous price tags you had ever seen for something so ordinary.

Sukuna cocks a brow at you over your phone, "Can't imagine you need more panties when you're constantly stealing my boxers. But whatever, hand it over. I know my card number-"

"Kuna," You interrupt him with a surprised laugh, holding fast to your phone when he tries to pluck it out of your hands, "they're a thousand dollars."

He glances back, his eyes focusing lower on the screen where you know the price tag to be. The newspaper in his hands drops down, momentarily forgotten by what he sees. For a moment, you think you've found his limit.

"Wait, are those red one's assless?" He points just below the price, where the recommended products are depicted. "Get those too."

You drop the phone down so that he meets your eyes, which are wide with shock.

Sukuna always took care of you. Always insisted on being the provider of any single thing that you may need; a warm meal, a soft bed, anything your eyes twinkled at that was available for purchase- even if you would never think of buying or owning it. Granted, you never wanted much in terms of material possessions, so you didn't realize the true extent of Sukuna's leniency until now.

It was slightly intimidating, and part of it felt wrong. Sukuna had money, plenty of it, but that didn’t mean he should feel the need to spend copious amounts of it on you just because you could ask him to. He was giving you too much power, it felt like.

You huff through your nose, frowning at him, which only has him tilting his head further to the side in question.

You ignore it, setting your phone onto the window seat and crawling your way closer to him, until you can gather up his face in your hands and lock his gaze into yours.

He glares at you past smushed cheeks, but doesn't make a move to break free of your hold, humoring you. "The hell are you doing-"

"You know you don't always have to say yes to me?"

Now that has him taken aback. His mouth automatically opens for a witty response, but your question seems to have effectively taken the words from his mouth. You can see the cogs in his head turning, and what you wouldn't give to peer inside his mind and hear his thoughts.

It takes him a moment, but eventually that familiar confident smile stretches across his sleepy face. His hands seem to instinctively slide their way up your bare legs until his fingers grip your hip bones, pressing into you.

He hums, "When have you ever said no to me?"

You scoff, ready to give him a prime example, but end up coming up short. The two of you loved to tease each other with disobedience, but in the end you were eager to give Sukuna anything his heart desired. You loved to please him, it was one of your favorite things to do, in fact.

"You never ask anything ridiculous of me." You remind him, smiling as one of his warm hands slides back down your waist and dips into the pair of his boxers you were sporting that day.

"You know what's ridiculous?” His voice wraps around your throat, and suddenly has you swallowing past the delicious grip. You're folding into him before you even realize it, at the mercy of his calloused hands. "The implication that I wouldn't do just about anything for you."

You can't help but sigh hopelessly, although it comes out as a desperate noise that pleads him for more. You really were all his, just like he loved to tell you.

"Now hand me your phone." It's a whisper, coaxing you. "I wanna see you in red."

You can’t say no.

At least it was mutual.

#jjk #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #kuna is a feral dog in the eyes of anyone that isn't you #you bring out the puppy love in this psycho #careful #he bites #this was a short and sweet #fluff

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parkersbliss · 7 months ago

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you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost:

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him.

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?”

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone.

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British.

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters.

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone.

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens?

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around.

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down.

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.”

“Are you… did you climb through one?”

“You locked me out.”

“I went to unlock it!”

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.”

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.”

Simon just sighs. “Americans.”

Gaz:

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks.

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door.

“No soldiers in this home.”

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.”

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied.

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.”

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.”

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive. “I’m going to crash out, actually.”

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it.

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission.

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?”

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.”

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!”

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once.

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?”

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.”

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch.

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away.

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.”

Soap:

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door.

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan. “What are you on about?” He asked.

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it.

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?”

“Nope!”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Third amendment.”

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?”

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!”

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?”

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words.

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly.

You don’t budge.

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music.

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.”

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price:

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window.

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in.

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.”

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?”

“It does to me.”

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.”

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?”

“I’m taking this very seriously.”

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one.

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?”

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.”

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?”

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.”

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.”

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ravioliwings · 2 years ago

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girl help, amtrak is being homophobic

#as in it showed me a seat available for $20 and then said whoopsie all sold out <3 #can anyone who has a ticket for lakeshore limited train 448 to boston cancel please <3 #i dont mind getting stuck visitng my gf for a second time but my boss might <3

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redflagshipwriter · 1 year ago

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Fast Car Chapter One (of four)

Masterpost

Danny hit the brakes hard and veered into a bicycle lane with a very Fenton sort of style and disregard for physics. He dodged the gunman in the carpool lane. He stuck his tongue out as he passed and then steered back into the right lane once he’d cleared the pedestrian.

It turned out that Gotham rewarded the sort of drivers forged in the crucible of the Fenton tactical GAV, which was great. Jazz had gotten a job as a barista for her third year at Gotham U, so he had inherited the car that she had used as a delivery driver. She’d even somehow managed to pay the taxes on it despite the restraining orders that most government offices had on the Fenton family.

Jazz had been a pizza girl, but Danny wasn’t willing to work the late nights. He worked for three different rideshare companies. It was.. Well. It was a terrible way to make a living, if he was honest. It was wretched. But it worked! Until the car crapped out on him, this was a viable option to feed himself while he was enrolled full time at the university. He was available to drive early in the mornings and for a few peak hours on the weekends.

Danny brought an order of 17 coffees to a warehouse with serious ‘murders will happen here today’ vibes and whistled as he left. People in murder warehouses actually tipped pretty well. Worker solidarity or something. He left the early birds to enjoy their 3 am drinks and then idly checked the app to see if there was anyone else waiting for a ride or delivery.

“Victor,” he read, and took a glance at the address. It was close! He snagged the request and turned on some bubblegum pop to enhance the ride over.

He saw a man standing outside, haunting a storefront with metal shutters pulled down. Must be the guy! Danny pulled over, checked the app, and then furrowed his eyebrows. Huh. Seemed wrong. He fixed his face before he looked back over.

In the app, Victor didn’t look especially young or fit. In person, he was easily over 6 feet tall and lugged a huge bulky bag like it weighed nothing.

He also had a giant ugly motorcycle helmet with the vague impression of a caveman brow ridge built into it. Danny hid his judgmental thoughts and rolled down the window to chirp, “Hi! Victor?”

“That’s me.” Victor sounded like he was auditioning for the Deft Punks, electronics grinding out his voice to a silly robot autotune. Danny hid the way his lips wanted to tremble. You can’t laugh at clients. “Can I put this in the trunk?”

Danny hated that. “Go for it.” He opened the trunk with the button and hid his real thoughts. He didn’t like people using the trunk. Why not just put it in the backseat like a normal person? There was enough room for a person and a bag there.

‘Is there enough room for this guy, actually?’ Danny wondered, looking Victor up and down subtly. Were his shoulders padded or was he actually built like that? Bizarre.

He had the sense that Victor was tense.

‘Ah., fuck. He caught me checking out his shoulders.’

Danny cleared his throat and whipped his face forwards again. “Normally I say to sit in the backseat, but I'm not sure that's enough room for your legs. Either is fine.”

Victor took him up on the front seat option and readjusted the passenger seat back with a casual ease.

Danny waited a moment.

Victor cocked his head at him.

“Seatbelt,” Danny prompted.

There was a long moment. Victor silently buckled his seatbelt.

“Awesome.” Danny put on his turn signals and pulled out. He went slower than he preferred. He’d learned the hard way that most passengers didn’t like his driving. It was great for cutting time off when he was delivering food, but no good for nervous cargo like poor Victor here. The poor guy was so anxious that he kept his emotional support helmet on when a passenger in a car.

Danny thoughtfully drove the speed limit and let Victor change music.

They didn’t have much to talk about. Danny didn’t mind much either way. He liked quiet rides and he liked chatting alright.

“Stop the car two blocks early,” Victor said. He pointed. “There’s fine.”

Obligingly Danny guided the car to a stop and shifted to park. He jumped out of the car. “I’ll grab your bag!” He called over his shoulder. He popped open the trunk and lifted Victor’s bag with a winning smile that said ‘I deserve a good tip.’

Victor had moved to the back of the car faster than Danny expected. He paused. He looked weirdly stiff. “Thanks.” He took the bag. “...Here’s your tip.”

“Have a wonderful day!” Danny said, pretending not to be interested in how much money it was. He waved Victor goodbye and pulled out. As soon as he was a block away he counted the bills. “Fuck yeah,” he hissed. Victor tipped like a crime boss. He stuffed them into his wallet and made a mental note of the account. He’d definitely try to accept requests from him in future.

He gave two more rides before he could go back to his shitty apartment and get ready for classes. Danny parked in the little underground garage near his place where he paid a monthly fee and jogged to his place. He got his bag and left on foot.

He had a pretty normal day. The only hiccup was that it was kind of hard to focus on his lectures when he could faintly hear what had to be every TV on campus playing the same news bulletin. Danny did his best to block it out, grimacing. Having advanced senses really sucked sometimes. If he heard the breaking news jingle one more time, he might cry.

By the time he was free he felt pushed to his limit. He went back to his place and turned off all his electronics for some peace of mind.

The next morning felt better. He turned on the tab that said he was available for work at 3 am and ended up bringing a huge delivery of breakfast materials to the same police station that he’d left Victor at yesterday. Danny hummed as he jogged up the concrete steps with three bulging bags of baked goods and coffee grounds. He handed them to a weary-eyed receptionist and accepted his tip without looking at it. He considered cracking a joke about them being busy and decided it was better not to.

He was still an illegal entity, after all. His parents were covering for him, but scrutiny was not his friend. He didn’t want any interaction with the police or the rogue band of detective freakazoids that ran this crime town.

Back in the car, he checked his tip. Danny clicked his tongue and made a disgusted sound. He hated cops. Cheap! There was nothing worse than being cheap.

His next customer tried to rob him at gunpoint as soon as he got in the car. Danny wrestled the gun away from him and ate it while the guy watched. “Just try and report me to the app,” Danny sneered between crunches of metal. It tasted like shit and the guy probably hadn’t washed his hands, so like, yuck. But it was a choice he was making for the intimidation factor, not because it was yummy.

‘Bet my iron intake is good now.’ Danny held out his hand. “My tip,” he said, and did not unlock the car door until the shaking wannabe carjacker had given him three dollars American money. Hell yeah. “Have a good morning.”

He went into the app and canceled the ride. There was another request waiting, so he drove to it. It wasn’t the name that the app’s request had shown, but- “Good morning, Victor!” Danny waved. “Call from a friend’s app this time?”

Victor stared at him dumbly. At least, that was Danny’s best guess of what was going on inside the helmet. “Yes.” He eventually said.

Cool, cool. Very weird. But he was an ok guy and he tipped well. “Hop in,” Danny said, and unlocked the car.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dead on main #red fast car

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toudan · 5 months ago

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Safe and Sound

He wonders if you know how complete you make him feel. A gentle kiss, your softer hand intertwining fingers with his calloused ones, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile up at him. In a way, it heals wounds in him that he didn’t know he had.

PAIRING.⠀Qin Che | Sylus x Reader

CONTENT.⠀Gender-neutral reader; established relationship, fluff, sleepy cuddles // ~0,5k words

A/N.⠀1/3 drabbles dedicated to @henndowski because I got impatient <3 reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!

Available on AO3

Sylus knows how easy it is for you to get tired.

You used to tell him people didn’t like that about you. That they always took it personally, thinking you were deliberately pushing them away, when the truth is that your body just reaches its limit sometimes. It’s something you’ve dealt with since you were little. It’s never a personal attack and it’s not something you do on purpose. He understands it very well, yet you still apologise for it every time, and every time you do, he wants to hold your hands and tell you that he knows. It’s a part of you. It won’t deter him from loving you.

He thinks it’s endearing. Even now, as he reads you a page from his book with you seated in his lap, a blanket draped over your frame. It’s not often you ask him to read to you. You’re always so tentative when it comes to asking for something, especially reassurance. Words don’t come easy to you, so you can’t always tell him exactly what you want, but he’s so well-attuned to you that he just knows how to read your mind.

His chin rests atop of your head as the words from the page leave his lips in a voice that’s only slightly higher than a whisper. You’re curled up against his body, cheek resting against his chest as he supports you with his free hand. Your breaths are steady and slow, all the worries you previously had melting away into his comforting embrace. Any other time he’d (lightly) scold you for falling asleep in such a position, but something about the way you hold on to him makes him fall into that sense of comfort, too. He wonders if you know how complete you make him feel. A gentle kiss, your softer hand intertwining fingers with his calloused ones, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile up at him.

In a way, it heals wounds in him that he didn’t know he had.

Putting the book down, he wraps both of his arms around you this time, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. Your lips curl into a content smile as you snuggle closer to him, sleepily clasping your hand over his. He shifts in his spot just the slightest, finding a more relaxing sitting position before bringing a hand up to smooth your hair, tenderly scratching his nails against your scalp.

His eyelids flutter. Calmness seeps into his system and his body feels light, boneless. Though his nights tend to be sleepless, having your warmth so close to him brings him home, safe and sound. A soft sigh leaves his nose. He’s getting sleepy, lulled by the sound of your breathing. He’d prefer the bed so you can fully stretch your legs and wake up without any aches in your muscles, but uncharacteristically of him, he doesn’t want to move.

Love blossoms across his chest, rushing all the way up to his cheeks as he pulls you closer. He’ll stay here with you until you wake up. You need this. You love this.

So does he.

#all #sylus x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #series: the way you adore me

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danielhowell · 1 year ago

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Dan Goes to Church

Sup

In case you missed it, I will be hosting a one-night-only little live show at a Church in London tomorrow (9th May)

See Dan at the Union Chapel →

Tickets are only £19 and every single person will get a free SIGNED copy of my brand new Paperback book!

There’s only a few seats left, so hurry over if you want to see me in real life, have some laughs, watch me drink a wine and say something I’ll probably regret BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY there are going to be some exclusive merch designs available only at the event!

And after a lot of inquisitive requests I am happy to preview them here:

Union Chapel Poster

Inspired by the iconic stained glass window that we will be sat under, this undeservedly beautiful poster image fuses the beautiful illustrations from the book with the venue architecture to commemorate the evening that hopefully Dan didn’t ironically burst into flame performing in a church.

Be Your Own Light Shirt

Taking inspiration from the hopeful gold glow of the new cover, this design features a sun ray quote, "You Can Be your Own Light", on the front and stained glass design on the back in a warm off-white.

I hope to meet some of you there and together we can repent for our sins, or probably commit a few new ones and run before they send people after us. It’s a date!!

— Dan

ps. stay tuned for an update on book orders. If you haven't grabbed a copy yet, we only have a limited number of signed copies still left!

#daniel howell #this night #church #sinful behaviour #snazzy merchanisio

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ginevrapng · 2 years ago

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I saw that you were accepting requests and I was wondering if you could write something about best friends’ dads!marauders x reader or something like that?

If not, I completely understand! <3

i've never written bestfriends!dads before so i hope you enjoy it! i didn't know if you wanted me to include peter but the majority of marauders fics leave out peter and i think this concept works better without him. <3

there was a lot of great things about being harry potter's best friend, one of those things happens to be getting to spend time with his hot dad james, completely off limits dad. that doesn't stop you from thinking about how charming he is though.

you've seen photos of james when he were younger and harry is a spitting image of him. now with age he's changed in all the best ways, his hair less messy, neater with slightly having the appearance of being slicked back and with thicker frame glasses. a distinction between him and harry, both younger and older is his build, james being more built with broader shoulders and more muscular.

he's kind and considerate and always calls you 'sweetheart' making you flush and every time leaves you wide eyed. you've never heard him call anyone else sweetheart so it's always leaving you feeling bashful.

james tells you that you can come and visit and stay whenever you want and you're always welcome so whenever you spend time at harry's you also end up seeing his two godfathers who also spend a lot of time there. whenever that happens you are rather reluctant to leave the house, not just enjoying all the company that they deliver but also how attractive they are, just like james.

remus somehow always memorising you. like when he rolls his sleeves up so you can see his arms or how you swear you sometimes see in the corner of your eye glimpses of him looking at your lips while you're talking. his jumpers and cardigans always looking so comfortable and soft, you wonder what they'd look like on you. you think about his sandy hair that covers his eyes and his beautiful hazel eyes that crinkle when he smiles and how he always looks tired and how you'd happily let him rest and sleep on you. he never talks about his work but it must be pretty rough for him to constantly look so tired.

sirius is ruggedly handsome always leaning against walls instead of sitting down, even when a seat is available. leaving you watching longer than you should as you watch his pose and see him stretching causing his tshirt to rise, exposing a bit of his torso. he has his long jet black hair which now has streaks of grey that he constantly runs his hands through.

you're going back into the living room, where everyone is, after you went to the kitchen to get a glass of cold water due to the heat and see sirius moving in a way that momentarily makes you freeze.

"you alright doll?" sirius smirks at you after spotting you. you nod but are unable to stop shifting side to side nervously after being caught, causing him to raise his eyebrow, looking amused as he chuckles at you.

this is the first time any of them has addressed your behaviour towards them but they have all noticed your longing looks and shy glances.

they've all been waiting for the moment to make a move and they're starting to lose their patience. you were none the wiser with their intentions, trying to get you alone, away from your friends and away from harry, asking you personal questions and give you special attention.

"you got a boyfriend or girlfriend doll? sirius asked you out of the blue one day, catching you completely off guard.

you splutter and try to answer while james starts speaking. "you're not dating my harry are you sweetheart?"

"what! of course i'm not! we're just friends." you say probably louder than you should, wanting to defend yourself.

you hear someone coming up behind you, "good." remus clasps your shoulders with his hands, slowly rubbing them and making patterns with his thumbs before he moves away and goes to help sirius with the washing up.

fiddling with your fingers you watch them all clear the table and sort out things that needed to be doing in the house with a small dreamy smile on your face.

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ilianasbruce · 7 days ago

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“A friend of Bruce.”

word count: 4,900

summary: Bruce had never felt territorial about a word.

warnings: full +18 content with a plot. minors do not interact, please.

notes: hello, hello!! ♡ i’m back with another thought about Bruce; uh, he is such a lover and whore boy simultaneously in my head!! and he is a user of ‘good girl’ since i had read it with my own eyes on the 11th issue of Batman: The Brave and the Bold (for educational purposes onlyyy,), so happy reading!!! ♡♡

It was such a bad idea.

One fucking awful idea for dragging you into this. He should’ve seen it coming, should’ve thought that you were off-limits when it came to her. Gotham could take his body and mind, but you were untouchable. He would fight his fists until his skin was discolored with a stinging sense under his gloves or he’d be dislocating his shoulder after hitting himself on some building’s wall for chasing Catwoman for a burglary the third time in the week — as he made sure to be the protector that Gotham needed, as he nightly exchanged himself with her. But you? You were his and he should’ve prohibited you for her.

He should’ve let your offerings be a murmur in the air around the cave. He should’ve ignored your loveliest eyes that were yearning to let you help him; deny your sweetest, worried spirit tailing behind him until you got your hands around his waist to press your cheek on his upper back with “Please, baby, let me help.”. He should’ve but damn it, how could he when you were so sweet?

You, unaware of your vision in him, were just his beloved girl, uneasy about his dual life every single night as he left you until he came back right into your arms in one piece. You would think about him for the hours he left you in your shared bed, between the sheets that smelled like him, or in the cave on his seat. You’d talk to him some nights on the comms when he was available to see where he was heading. Some nights when the city was quiet, he’d come back early — safe and relieved with a small smile on his cowl-covered face. You were in love with him heavily, the kind of fondness that made him the only one of yours just for everything. Your Bruce, your devoted Dark Knight, and the love of your life forevermore.

But for Bruce, it was more deeper than yours. Your love was too mighty for both of you, there was no denying that. But Bruce’s love? God, it was more intricate than your sweet devotion. He loved you wholly, with his mind and body, with his heart and hands. Bruce ached for you in a way that was too much for him to comprehend. It was unbearable and much, but he couldn't orbit without you. Since the first time he laid his eyes on you, you were a phenomenon in his mind — always in the back of his mind and always making him spiral into you obsessively. You reminded him of a doll ballerina in the vintage, dark-wooded box, starting to waltz through the melody as soon as he curved the key in the reading room of Manor when he was seven. The kind of stare he’d blink through his dark, thick lashes at you with zeal and longing as he turned the key over and over again, for hours just to see you. You were just as unaware of his gaze as that ballerina, happily existing with your waltz with your sweet soul in his life while he was holding that box dearly to himself, so lovesick and always eager for another curve of the key between his fingers.

You were his sweet love, his sole Sun.

If you’d utter a word to him, no matter what, he was always mindful of you. You were letting him see another view of the world — another window. And that’s why it was simple for him to be lured by you. He couldn't discard your eagerness to assist, your vision, when you were embracing him with your pure intentions of support for Batman about his Gotham. Oh, he could never get enough of you, couldn't he?

“I’ll be good,” you murmured to his shirt as you were holding him tightly, your gorgeous face pressed on his back. “I promise.”

Oh, he should’ve sent you to Manor. Fuck, he should’ve.

So, he wouldn't be sitting right next to you, with his masterly disguised form of yours, two waiting for one of his snitches in the eastside bar of Gotham. Bruce, for the information, would usually turn himself to strangers to learn intel about the cases he worked on and the city. He had been doing it for years, learned from the best in his younger years, Avery Oblonsky. A touch of his deft fingers on there and here resulted in creating a few new identities, one of them named ‘Matches Malone’. A man who would usually wander through the cheaper bars in the name of a mere conversation and beer. But you knew better.

“Stop staring at me.” he muttered as he sipped his beer, his eyes on the door.

“But you look so adorable with that mustache.” you said with a lovely smile of yours, your eyes glinting under the low bar lights. He gave you a brief glance and turned to the door that he had been staring at for twenty minutes.

It was a terrible idea to bring you here. Of course, he had played with your exterior, too. He would rather have broken ribs to see the lowest of Gotham witness his wife wandering with an ‘outlaw’ in the God knows what corner of East Gotham. He altered your gorgeous features with great concentration without exceeding the limit. His skilled fingers traced your soft skin to remake you as he thought, wondering about whoever created you like this must’ve taken their time on you to give all those features he adored so much with his keen eyes. You were still adorable after his work, blinking up at him with your precious smile and pink wig. You had begged him to let you wear that, promising that you’d be quiet. He should’ve stopped that right there but… never mind.

He spent one hour on your pink bob, fixing it to really look like your own hair. You were beaming like the Sun itself after he wiped the tint from his fingers, looking at your new form in the mirror with awe at his mastery. A few kisses and whispers of ‘I love you’s were his payment. He was too tipsy from you to mind the awfulness of the thought in the cave to discard the idea, — that you’d accompany him for the sake of his city. Now, with a straight mind, he realized how foolish to let Gotham indulge in you as much as he did.

You were wandering your eyes in the bar intrigued, quietly sitting as you had promised him. He caught your gaze in a few seconds, you giving him a sweet smile in the dim light and warmth. You were just so…

“Matches, man!”

You two were interrupted, no, you were startled by the eerie, loud outsider who sat opposite you. Your startled eyes found the man in his thirties as your hand found Bruce's under the table. He squeezed your hand in reassurance for your stunned expression.

“Hello, Christoph.”

Christoph, or ‘Ziggy Chris’ as he let you call himself was a funny man. Despite being in the criminal life, he was likable. He made you laugh with amiable intentions and Bruce was not having it. He did not know what riled him up, Chris’ awe of you or your contented conversation with a criminal. Or maybe it was also because Chris was busy with you for Bruce to energize him for intel.

“You know, candy girl, Matches is a really good fella out here.”

And that fucking pet name because of that fucking pink wig. Your pink bob reminded Chris pink, wrapped candies and now, Bruce was forced to witness some lowlife call his wife with endearments. You were listening to Chris as if he were delivering a psalm, ridiculously curious about some damned criminal. God, he should’ve known.

“Yes, he is such a great friend of mine.”

Bruce couldn't help his immediate glance at your side profile for your choice of words. Friend? A mere friend? Truthfully, it was not a big deal. It was a normal thing. But Bruce had been stuck in the conversation between you and Chris for fifty-three minutes without getting a look from Chris. When he had tried to speak, it was Chris who was interrupting him ‘Man, I’ll let you finish but listen to this,” and “I’ve been there, candy girl, I’ve..” or your concentrated eyes on Chris had been irritating him for the last one hour.

And now you were calling him a friend? A fucking friend? The word itself, the mere definition behind it boiled his blood with fume. You could've said my boyfriend, but no, you went with a friend. (It was much better as you had said but he was irrational about you at that moment). He stared at your outline for a few seconds with simple vexation and turned his eyes to Christoph. Chris saw his friend Matches’ eyes on you and he made a joke about how you offended him. Your innocent eyes found your undercover husband’s face but he was already dissecting Chris with a tense jaw. There was no blame on you, it shouldn’t be a problem and why Bruce was gritting with the word of ‘friend’ was a mystery. A mere word, nothing more. Not that it meant something anyways.

Oh, he’d show you a ‘friend’ if he had the chance at the moment but he was supposed to get intel, and the bathroom of the bar was overly unsanitary for your soft skin and jean skirt. The thought was tempting, though, too tempting that his hand found your thigh under the hem of your skirt without casting a glance at you.

“Okay, okay. Let me ask this, man, I’ve heard that Penguin has a new interest.”

Bruce finally took the wheel for granted in his fake New York accent and directed it to any point he wanted for information. You stayed quiet, listening to him with your curious, pretty eyes from then on. He eventually cast a few glances at you, drinking in your flushed cheeks and pink hair in the low bar light. His palm stayed on your soft thigh, not crossing any limit with his deft fingers to the point he wanted to dive. He’d have that time later anyway.

One hour later, Bruce had what he wanted after leaving that damned bar of eastside. The intel was valuable for the case he’d been tracking for two weeks. Oswald Cobblepot and his Iceberg Lounge, something that Batman had to look into closely. But before that, he had a thing to take care of.

The walk to the car was silent but slightly rushed. Your hand was in Bruce’s, as he pulled you with a nonchalant look and silence through the streets. The sky was already dark, and it’d probably be raining in ten minutes before you reach the car. You thought he was rushing because of Batman, but no. You did find out about that later.

“Was that useful?” you asked him as you turned the corner where your car was, hand in hand. He exhaled quietly and muttered a ‘yes’. He was pissed off, you could see that. But you thought he was pissed off at you, not the dreading minutes of listening to Chris about his made-up adventures to impress you and that, sticky and smoky air filled bar.

“Are you angry at me?”

The words hung in the air as you had already reached the car. He gave you nothing other than opening the door for you, making sure you get inside fully before closing the door. When he was inside and starting the engine of his sports car, he did not utter a word, either. You just accepted his silence and pressed your head to the window as he drove. During the car ride to Manor, you two were silent. But Bruce had made a few calls to Lucius about the items for a voice recorder chip and Alfred about the Batsuit. You had accepted the thought of him being irritated with you.

When his car entered the cave and found its usual spot in there, you quietly left the car. Alfred was waiting for both of you with his usual tea tray and your favorite homemade cookies he had made for you. He had an amused look on his face as he saw you two as you approached him.

“I hope your peculiar couple bonding went well, Madam?”

“I guess so, it was fun.” you answered with a smile at Alfred and a bite of his splendid cookies. Of course, it was fun. You weren't the one who was strained. You were happily sitting right next to your beloved Bruce in your pink wig and thigh-length jean skirt, adorably looking at him as he was pumping the words out of Chris’ mouth as if he were a magician in your eyes (well, he was when it came to manipulating the words when he needed to). He did not understand why you were there to provide some ‘help’, but whatever your innocent existence was not a help to him as you promised. So, yes — it was fun.

Bruce was concentrated on the Batcomputer for something you did not heed at the moment. But you realized he was into his case so you decided to leave the cave to give him space. You took your way to the bathroom, trying to get rid of your ‘alteration’.

It was almost fifteen minutes that you were in the shower after taking off your wig and clothes. You almost did not notice him when he entered the bathroom. You just randomly shut off the water for the shampoo and he was there, taking off his own disguise. He saw your surprised eyes in the reflection in the mirror and went on with his action. It took him a quick time to get rid of his disguise and slip into the shower with you. He closed the glass door while keeping his eyes on yours.

“Hi,” you said quietly as he overstepped into your space. He had his hands on either side of your ribs to cage you with the wall and himself, confusing you with his sudden motive. His baby blue eyes were looking into your eyes with slightly creased brows (giving him a frown) and a concentrated gaze. Like he was disappointed with something but he couldn't spell it yet. You felt heavy under his gaze in those seconds, your eyes looking up at him with a doe-like gaze as your head was pressed up to the intricate tiles of your bathroom. He glanced at your lips briefly then turned his unfulfilled gaze to yours.

He neared his face against yours, making you press your forehead against his with closed eyes next. You thought he just missed you as he always did when he joined you in the shower. You thought he’d be kissing you sweetly and slowly like he always did. But to your surprise, as soon as you nuzzled your nose to his, he crashed his lips against yours. That caught you off guard, your hands moved to his waist to balance yourself against him.

You couldn't understand his discomfort at the moment that why he was giving you a rough time suddenly. His hand went to let the water flow over you two since you had turned off before he joined you. The slightly cold water turned into the hot one in the next seconds when he bit your lower lip. Your brows creased slightly at the feeling while he kept kissing you wholly. It was a struggle for you to breathe under the hot water over you and his roughness, thus your hands went to his shoulders to break his kisses. But to your surprise, he led your hands around his neck, pressing his chest against your bare one, not giving you permission in that position.

His one hand that on the side of your ribs moved to your hips, and the other found the back of your thigh to press you to him. When you were breathless for his lips, he let both of you have some air but quickly regained his kisses as soon as he had air. You felt his leg between your thighs, using his hand under your thigh to put you in a position where his thigh was pressed against your cunt. You let a moan to his mouth and he broke the kiss with half-lidded eyes. You did not have time to whisper his name on his lips before he kissed you briefly.

When he started to kiss your jaw, then your neck you finally had an opportunity to breathe as much as you could under the pressure of the water and him with the fog-covered glasses. Your blurry eyes were on him as he half-sucked and half-bit your skin of your neck while your hands were around his neck. You let your eyes close, a breathy moan escaping your kiss-stained lips against the foggy air around you as he pressed his thigh between your soft thighs where you were getting wet.

“B-Bruce,” you muttered when he was sucked off the valley of your breasts, with little bites afterwards to leave stains. He had no intention of listening to your soft sounds about his name, making you arch and press yourself against him more at the moment.

You felt the pressure of his thigh lessen, but in the next seconds, his fingers replaced it. You moaned when he dove his middle digits into you while his teeth sank into your throat. He started to move his fingers in a steady but just a little faster pace, not giving you any chance to relish in the feeling. He fingerfucked every sweet spot of yours with his deft, calloused fingers, making you let out soft sounds of your pleasure to the dense air between you two. He stole your sounds while he started to kiss you again and again, playing with the pressure of his own sweetness and roughness.

But this time, he let out to break his kisses and have a sufficient amount of air for your lungs. He was watching you with his hazy, half-lidded eyes as his face was closer in the distance that your lips were brushing his when he was earning every moan. It felt suffocating for you at some point, his fingers, his pressed body, and the hot water over your skin but it also felt good. You were too full to think about anything at the moment, just Bruce and his two fingers.

He knew how to make you come undone, hitting one spot over and over again to arch yourself against him. You just remember the overfilling sense and the immediate combustion of your euphoria, him letting you fall your head in the curve of his neck. It felt surprisingly so good, making you scratch your nails on his back shoulder while your face was pressed on his neck. You couldn’t have enough time to come to yourself when you felt his fingers’ drawal and his cock to replace them.

He just cursed under his breath — you thought so, as he slid into your sensitive cunt effortlessly. He had stretched you perfectly so that it let him have his time in delight.

“Fuck,” he muttered to your spot below your ear, as your scorching walls wrapped him sweetly. Your first orgasm had created an ideal lube for him, easily, fully fitting into you with great pleasure and you with sweet moans. When he was buried in your pussy, he kissed the same spot below your ear with the words of “Wrap your legs around me, baby. Gonna be a long ride.”

Yet, his hands found the back of your thighs to help you wrap your legs around his waist. You unhid your pretty face from his neck, pressing back to the tiles with tight eyes when he hit the first thrust into you deliciously. He started to fuck you with slow but gentle thrusts.

“Mmm..” you couldn’t help but let your sounds fill the hazy air around you, as he hit every good spot nicely. Your legs were tightly wrapped around him as much as you could, since he was increasing the force of his hips every minute. The time in the shower passed very intensely but briskly for you. It was there, him fucking you too good with his curses and kisses on your lips; but it was blurry for you. It was likely because of the scorching atmosphere — both his body and the water pressure, dizzying you. So, when Bruce fucked you another round for your second orgasm, you came again in his arms. You were breathing in pleasure against his lips as he half-watched you with his own hazy eyes, half-kissing you.

When you came, he came in the next few mintues, too. But not inside of you — he was tensing his jaw at the feeling and calculation, pulling out at the moment when his seed was about to fill you up. You whimpered at the feeling of sudden pulling out and the sensation after it while he came between your thighs. You both were breathless, gasping for air. You thought he’d shut down the water and let you have a good extended amount of time to come to your senses. But, no. He shut down the water to carry you to your bedroom.

Your scorching skin felt the mild air of your somber bedroom in his arms as he carried you to bed. It felt refreshing after the shower atmosphere. When your head hit your pillow, he was already on top of you. You looked up at his features in the dull room from the glint of the bathroom light that came to your bedroom through the door. He was just watching you, too. You let him kiss you again and again, stealing your breath to relieve what was bothering him. You knew him well enough to know he had something on his tongue. Your fingers found his hair as he devoured you, kissing and biting your sweet lips as he wanted. You lazily played with his wet locks, trying to ease his tension. But you met with his grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head on your pillow with one hand.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” you asked him after his breathless kisses. Your first guess was that you weren't promising right next to him, did something to piss him off. But in reality, it was just his frustration. You whispered another ‘baby’ to his lips when he kissed you. But your words were answered with his mocking tone.

“Am I your baby now, huh?” he muttered in a tone that shook your dizziness. Your brows were creased slightly with confusion but he furrowed them by entering you again. You let out soft moans against his face as he nestled back in where he was owned. Your viscous walls welcomed him utterly again, as if it was where he belonged (he did). His free hand went to your hips to align them to his liking, to angle them in a way that you could feel him buried inside you as much as you could.

You were gazing up at him full but dazed, your cheeks warm and lips marked by him. As much as he was pissed off, he was still sweet when it came to you. Your vision in his eyes made him sigh in love and kiss your lips gently, him simultaneously started to hit your spots as he thrust into you cunt. You were sensitive after your two rounds of orgasm, thus he was slow in his pace unless you wanted him faster.

Bruce’s lips found your jaw and then your neck as he fucked you slowly, just as he preferred at the moment. You were mewling or softly moaning against the darkness, your legs shaking on either side of his waist on the mattress. You couldn't wrap them this time, couldn't find the strength. Bruce was busy biting the places he marked in the shower, marking them for a prolonged time. He was having his immaculate time, just where he wanted to be — inside you with your pussy wrapped around him flawlessly that he was letting his groans out a few times already, before the patrol. He was slow to his liking, relishing in the tightness of you.

“Your friend, yeah?” he muttered in your ear while you were dizzy with his thickness between your thighs. “Yeah?” he taunted you more, his lips licking the skin of your throat next. You merely sighed in pleasure at his sneer, couldn't think fully at the moment.

“I didn’t — fuck, I didn’t know friends fuck each other just as I do.”

“B-Bruce..”

You couldn't handle the slowness of his hips and his taunting. Your creased brow, half-lidded gorgeous eyes were watching him as he was fucking you just as he wanted. He came back to your face with sweat and wetness on his temple, looking down at you with furrowed brows as he rolled his hips into your tightness.

“I’m gonna erase that word from your tongue,” he muttered to your lips, his handsome face hovering over yours. You just closed your eyes helplessly, slightly turning your face to the other side due to reflexes. You felt his kisses on your cheek, your jaw as he started to speed up his pace more. It was already overwhelming for you and the pressure of his tightened grip around your wrists over your head made the pooling around your stomach more prominent. Bruce could feel the ache of your body about orgasm and that’s why he played with his pace to prolong it. You let out disappointed sounds, mentally writing somewhere in your brain to avenge his injustice moves.

He was watching you like a man starved — in love, aching to say ‘that’s what I felt when you said that’, but he knew better. He then shifted his angles again to relish the feeling of your viscous walls around his cock. He gladly fucked every second, every moan out of you slowly, leaving you marked his lips on your cheek and pussy with his thickness. He was just bare inside of you, no condom tonight, just the yearning to come right inside of you, filling you with his seed. He wished he could still fuck you and fill you as much as he wanted, until his seed was overdripping between your folds, marking every inch of yours but he couldn't. You two were too young and inexperienced for a possible baby.

The thought was unbearable at the back of his mind always, when he was ready to dive into you but always forcing himself to pull on a condom. He’d sometimes — on very rare occasions — come inside you without protection, still aware of your monthly cycle rounds.

He knew you were sensitive and after a good amount of thrill, he rocked his hips with the pace you liked. He moved as you wanted him, kissing and whispering sweet nothings to your ear as you were breathless under him. “Is that good, baby?” he muttered to you temptingly.

“Mhm..”

“Use your words like a big girl.”

Oh, that husband of yours. Just knew how to taunt and seduce you simultaneously.

“B-Bruce,” your words dripped with your sweetness and dizziness, making him groan in your ear. He hit your sweet spot, then kissed your lips before muttering to you a “That’s my good girl.”. He set up his pace to your liking, finally letting you finish. God, it felt amazing — your pent-up, overwhelmed muscles ached in the perfect way when you orgasmed for the third and last time in the night. And it was much better than the two.

Before getting you to the finish point, he intertwined your fingers over your head, ushering you with his focused eyes and murmur of “Come on, baby, I got you.”. When you came, he relished in the scene of your sweet glow in euphoria, your sighs of pleasure, and his name on your tongue. You just remember the feeling so satisfying, so full and sweet. He really made sure to give you what you needed.

He came right after you, pushing himself to the point. But it was simple for him since he was thriving with the feeling of your warmth and cunt around his cock, your obscene vision just for his eyes. He had to thrust a few more times and he was there — just suppressed like you.

You two caught your breath after being tangled up with each other. Your faces were so close to each other and warm with color. Bruce pressed countless kisses on your face, specifically on your cheeks and your eyelids along with your lips after catching his breath quicker than you. He nuzzled your face, just satisfied and buried inside you loosely. You were too exhausted, both from the water and him, as your eyelids were heavy from the feeling of his warmth. He brushed his lips with quiet sighs against your skin, murming sweet nothings along with them.

“My good girl,” he nuzzled his nose to your warm cheek, keeping it there. “My,” a soft kiss there, “sweet girl.” as if he was reminding the words to himself and Gotham. You were drowsy with your serene sighs, your attention fading from him, from the feeling of him intertwined with you or his fingers fiddling with yours above your head. He was a lovefool in the warm bed of yours, letting his buried words slip through his lips during his pillow talk.

He noticed your eagerness to sleep — he notices everything about you, kissed you until sleep lured you — just as you did more than a few times when he came from patrol, weary but still energized. You’d kiss him until he was surprisingly sleepy from your loving. Mostly, he was at peace so he could sleep.

You did not feel his last kiss on your temple before he slipped off you gently and carefully without disturbing you. He buried you under the quilts and got his robe to switch off the bathroom light, then took the way of the cave for his alter ego. He hoped you did understand what he had thought about the word of ‘friends’ now, unless you wanted to prove otherwise.

thank you so much for reading!! ♡

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader smut #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne x batmom #batman and batmom as newlyweds!!!#batman x fem!reader #batman x batmom #batman x reader smut #batman x reader #batman x you #batman smut #bruce wayne #batman #dc comics

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 1 month ago

Text

Route 666

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Black!OC

Summary: it’s the year 1984 and Star goes to a roadside bar off of Devil’s Highway that a friend of hers invited her to. What Star doesn’t know is that someone is waiting for her beyond the velvet drapes.

Warnings: SMUT. Lots of pussy licking. 18+ CONTENT. Mentions of blood.

Part two.

Stack.

This brother has an aura Star craved. Mysterious and very charismatic. They sort of glided through the throng of dancers as if walking on water. Stack stroked Star’s hand with his thumb soothingly. The sensation calmed her nerves and unsteady breathing.

Star didn’t know if it was the liquor that had her feeling dazed or if she was under his hypnosis, but she let him take her hand while she followed through the door of Vaisseau. After grabbing her things from coat check, they were outside now, the evening air sweeping her hair every which way.

Stack’s footsteps stopped in front of a motorcycle with a seat embroidered with sparkling rhinestones or…diamonds? And an iron cross emblem. He released her hand briefly to swing onto his bike. Stack reached out a hand for Star to climb up. He revved the bike to life with his other. Star made sure to take her time as she threw her thick thigh up and over until her crotch—panties non existent, fish nets creating a sensation over her clit—onto the raised portion of the seat.

Her arms circled Stack’s waist and she interlocked her fingers tightly together. Star pressed her right cheek against the leather material of his vest. Tough, rebellious, or even primal. Durable and strong. The pearl snap earrings over her earlobes revealed themselves as her hair moved in the direction of the wind. The sweat against the sepia flesh of her back dried, leaving behind a sticky surface. The scent of Christian Dior Hypnotic Poison with its sensual and captivating vanilla lingered against every inch of her skin, exuding a brazen, conquering spirit.

The deafening roar of his motorcycle outside of Vaisseau made him appear like a feral beast waiting to break free of his chains and start racing. There was nothing more exciting than riding on the back of his motorcycle to the limit and feeling at one with the machine. It was agile, moving onto the highway with ease. The wind burned her eyes, so she shut them, resting her chin against his back. The dewy fragrance of the air tickled her nose.

Going to a motel was the same as choosing junk food or casual sex, you realised it was gonna be seriously underwhelming but it was cheap and available. It felt different with Stack. Nothing about him screamed underwhelming. More like exhilarating. They arrived outside of a motel lit with a greenish hue. It was two levels and eerily quiet.

Stack pulled into a spot with big numbers painted in red against the concrete. 109.

He got off first, helping Star down and grabbing a hold of her hand again. He pocketed his motorcycle keys before digging for the ones to open his motel door. Star glanced around. She spotted an older gentleman, probably of Hispanic descent, smoking a cigarette against a truck. Soft music from a radio to her left and the sound of a soap opera through an opened window to her right.

The room was clean, the bedding was fresh, for a motel around here that's actually pretty good. Stack flicked on a light, bathing the room in a low, warm glow. He tossed his moto vest against a nearby arm chair and his room keys on a side table next to an alarm clock that read: 1:52 am. Stack made sure to shut the curtains and close the blinds up nice and tight. Star eyed the peeling wallpaper, the single king sized bed, and a mirror situated on a wall behind the bed.

Star sat her cheetah printed hand bag on the other end table before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Her eyes flicked around nervously, watching Stack take off his boots. The leather pants he wore sat lower on his hips, revealing a sharp v–cut and a happy trail. Star unzipped her boots and pulled them off, flexing her toes.

He stood firm in front of her, Star looking up at him through her lashes. Stack extended a hand agonizingly slow, stroking her cheek with his thumb. Star exhaled a shaky breath.

“Do you trust me?”

Star wanted to say she barely knew him, but for some reason, she felt so safe with him.

“I trust you. Unless you give me a reason why I shouldn’t.”

Stack smiled as the golden ambience of the motel room surrounded him. The sound of the TV with its static and lack of frequency didn’t stop the sound of Star’s heavy breaths and loud pulse reverberating her ear drums. Stack tugged, bringing Star to her feet. He took slow steps backward, turning her so she could see herself in the mirror.

“You’re so beautiful. Skin so soft. Curves just right.”

Star smiled bashfully.

“What if I told ya’ I wanna make ya’ minds forever?”

Star circled her tongue against the inside of her cheek to fight the urge to smile.

“I’d say I’ve heard it all before. What makes you any different, huh?”

“I’m definitely nothin’ like the men before me. Believe ‘dat. You’ll know soon enough.”

Star traced circles against his hand that pressed against her middle, “Mhm…well, I’m here now…”

Star reached up to stroke the back of his head.

“…Ya’ like to be bitten?”

Star pondered, “Uh…never have before…depends on how hard you trying to bite me.”

“How about spanked?”

Star grinned, “Oh, yeah. I love that type of shit.”

“Mm…aight…how ‘bout spit? Like that?”

Star could feel Stack’s dick jump against her backside.

“Love it. You should know…”

A knowing smile deepened his dimples, “That’s right…how could I forget, my apologies, gorgeous.”

Stack lightly nibbled on Star’s neck, causing her to giggle.

“You have a mouth to break up a home over,” Star said with a laugh.

“I got sum’ else too…”

“I know,” Star licked her lips, “You’re blessed.”

Stack circled his hips against her ass.

“You get so excited…I like it,” Star spoke with a whimper.

Stack turned Star around with a growl. He pressed his body on Star’s so she couldn’t escape him. His skillful hands slicked up her arms and gripped her tight. Not too much pressure, but enough to show her who’s boss. Star’s mind didn’t have to wonder what kind of freakiness went down with Stack. The mere thought made her clit throb in anticipation of it all.

Stack leaned in closer to her before Star let him take her into a passionate kiss with his soft, probing tongue.

His warm, wet tongue curled around hers expertly, stealing her breath and even her soul. The kiss wasn’t like any kiss she’d ever gotten. It was much more than a quick peck or a rushed one. He took his time. Learned the taste of tequila on her tongue. The way her soft, glossy brown lips moved around his. The sounds she made. Their heads rocked from side to side, Star falling deeper into the kiss.

Her entire body screamed for this man. He didn’t care how many dicks been in her mouth. How many pussies she licked He didn’t care that she made money off of sex with men and women alike. He didn’t care about the stigma of being with a porn star. He wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Big bulge and all. Star missed this. The anticipation of being with a man that had what Stack had.

Star dragged her hand down to cup his erection. Stack brought one heavy hand down over her ass with a sharp whack before grabbing a handful. He tilted his head without even being told so and Star took that as he liked his ear licked and nibbled on. She did just that. Meanwhile, Stack’s eyes glowed and his mouth began to drool. He sucked in his bottom lip to capture it all before it landed on Star’s shoulder.

Star moved her kisses to his exposed neck. A ghostly hiss whizzed around her. She palmed his dick tighter, nails digging into the leather of his pants. His deep groans sounded monstrous in a way. That left an impression on Star. This was a primal man indeed. And she made him weak. He’s definitely her biggest fan.

“You taste so good,” Stack whispered against her lips.

It was his turn now. Both of his hands were in her hair before he gently moved her head to the side so he could kiss her neck. Star closed her eyes, feeling him sucking her hungrily. As if he had performed magic, they seemed to glide across the carpet to the arm chair. Stack held an arm against her lower back to stop her from falling. His mouth left her neck, leaving behind an ache. He sat down and spread his thighs deliciously while his arms rested on the chair.

“Autograph,” Star heaved with a laugh, “Where do you want it?”

Stack, eyes dragging over her, went to undo his pants.

Star dropped her lustful gaze to his fingers working to reveal what she’d been dying to see since he pressed it between her ass like a hotdog to a bun.

He thumbed the leather past his thighs, revealing tight, coarse pubic hair and then that thing popped out like a snake in the grass. What white people called a Mandingo with its racial slur that Star despised in porn, she just saw a beautiful black man with a big joystick she’d love to play with. This wasn’t fetish. This was art. Black beauty. And she felt right at home.

An all American whopper. Eight–inch’s of fun. All the dick she could handle. Extra-long shaft that naturally flexes to fit inner curves for deeper penetration. Great for the G-Spot or prostate. Perfectly-shaped tip, textured skin with veins, and a weighty pair of balls.

Star dropped to her knees a little too hard.

She tugged on his pants, removing them completely.

Stack grabbed a remote that was wedged between the cushion of the chair and pressed a button as he aimed it towards the TV.

Loud moans and erotic music played. Star turned her head to see what was happening. Visuals of herself giving a solo performance was right before her. Goosebumps covered both of her arms. She was splayed out on a leather chair with her legs draped over the arms while her left fingers circled her clit beyond a patch of hair. She could even see her own natural lubrication dripping like honey from a glass.

“Stack…”

“I take ya’ everywhere with me. I’ve spent so many days dreaming of what it would feel like to have ya’ all to myself…”

Star faced him again, staring up at him from her kneeled position between his legs. Star’s eyes burned with passion when she spotted drool like no other spilling over his bottom lip. This man was so hungry for her. To the point that he was visibly salivating? Without even tasting her everywhere yet?

Stack whispered sweetly, “I’m the unspoken passion women secretly desire. You wonder about the mystery behind my eyes, don’t you?”

Did he just read her mind?

“Yes,” Star whispered back.

Stack didn’t make a move to wipe his chin.

“I’m sex, uptight and poised. The lover you dream of…”

Star shuddered underneath his gaze. Enthralled by every word that came from his thick lips. Every inch of her skin crawled as she moved her hands all over his body. Smooth, unblemished, dark skin looked as if it had been kissed by the ideal amount of sun provided by the Mississippi Delta. His chiseled chest, ripped abs, and defined, burly arms had her mouth watering lustfully.

“Stack…”

“Yes?”

“I want to suck your dick.” Star stated with assertiveness, feeling her inner thighs and stockings beginning to soak.

Stack placed his index finger over her lips, “Shhh…not another word…”

For some reason, she couldn’t utter another word. It was like he had taken her voice from her. She couldn’t make sense of the way she was feeling as her breathing intensified. Her clit throbbed harder, causing her to rock back and forth.

Removing the halter to her dress, Star allowed it to pool around her waist, revealing pendulous breasts and thick, brown nipples. Her skin was painted with sweat, no circulating air in that motel room. Star quivered as she took him into her hand again, weighing the heaviness in her palm.

“Suck it. Take what you want, baby.”

Star reached for him but Stack snatched his dick back.

“Suck it all the way down too, understand?”

Star did just that.

She kissed the tip. Made love to it with her glossy brown lips, moans equaling those from the TV. She let go of his shaft, no need to keep it in place. It was hard enough to stand straight up like a stick in the mud. Star gathered saliva on her tongue and slathered it all over Stack’s ample package, slurping afterwards to savor his taste. Stack watched her, eyes following the movement of her tongue and closing briefly whenever she let her lips have a moment.

“Can’t believe you suckin’ on my dick, Star…”

The tremble in his voice. She gave his balls some love too, staring up at him beyond that girth like she was peaking around a corner. Stack’s mouth dropped open, teasing her with some tongue.

Star popped her lips off his sack and suctioned her lips along the underside of his dick until her lips were flesh around his tip. She slithered her mouth down with a tight jaw until he was seated at the back of her throat. That delicious curve molded perfectly with her mouth. Star began sucking. Stack smoothed her hair out of the way and held it back so he could watch her better.

“Gahdamn…this how you do it?”

Star hummed.

“You a motherfuckin’ pro. No wonder I love you so much.”

Star blinked up at him with a dick drunk look.

“You love sucking big dick?”

She nodded her head, continuing her blow job.

“Pop your lips off and tell me how much you love sucking big dick.” Stack demanded with a gruff tone.

Star did as she was told, like he was the puppeteer.

She did it nice and slow and lingered on the tip before releasing him. Stack’s nostrils flared as a deep and resonant, “Mmm,” billowed from his lips.

Star jerked with the help of spit, “I love sucking your big dick, Stack…it’s so big…and fat…more than what I’m used to when I fuck for the camera…” Star said with a practiced pitch in her voice that drove men crazy.

“Bet that pussy hole ain’t used to what I got. I know I’m right…”

Star damn near came.

She shook her head, “Not even close. I don’t remember what it feels like to be filled up with all this,” Star slapped him against her palm, “I need a reminder.”

“Put your mouth back on me first.”

Star sank back down on his dick. Stack shut his eyes and his tongue glided over sharp fangs. The lethal incisors were poking him in his bottom lip. Stack’s eyes, glowing brightly, watched her eat his dick up. He was close.

“You ready for this nut?”

Star responded with more enthusiastic sucking. She rolled her neck and pulled out all her nasty tricks. Spit on it. Flicked it with her tongue. Kissed his tip. Sat him in the back of throat. Slurped on his balls. Stack’s hips levitated from the chair and a strong fist in her hair kept her still.

Heavy breathing and sucking sounds with an occasional slap from his balls on her chin.

He was throat fucking her. Star felt hot tears roll down her face. She gripped his thighs.

“Mhm…mhm…keep yo’ ass still!”

Her nose pressed against his crotch almost suffocating her.

Hot jizz made its way down her throat, feeding her lust for him. Stack let her go and Star’s mouth popped off his dick.

A dick that still was as hard as it was before she sucked it.

Star went to wipe her mouth but Stack grabbed her by the neck, leaned forward, and thrust his tongue in her mouth. Star could taste his saliva. It mingled with hers.

“Your mouth felt like I was digging for gold…”

He kissed her.

“So good…”

Stack released Star’s neck. He helped her to her feet and took it upon himself to remove the rest of her dress. Star shimmied her hips, full nudity he’d only ever seen on screen finally revealed to him.

Stack was patient. Not rushed like she was used to.

He twirled her around, taking in every inch of her from the follicles of her head to the polish on her toes. When she stopped in front of him again, Stack allowed his hands to explore. He first glided his fingertips along her collarbone before they found its way to her breasts.

“Everything about ya’…so succulent.”

Stack fought the urge to extend his fangs.

What he wouldn’t give to sample her blood for the first time. With over fifty years of experience, he plans to. He’d been waiting to get his hands on Star Vixen. And she came to him so easily. Now here she was, standing in front of him dripping in sweat and smelling tasty. The aroma of her sex burned his nose in the best way.

The fans in Vaisseau blew her scent around, and Stack had to make a move fast to stake his claim. He could sense the pressure from surrounding beasts of the night, ready to fight for her. Stack would put up a fight. Star was his. His to feed from. His to fuck. She would be his for however long he planned to stay in Arizona before there was another calling.

The life of a Vampire required you to stick to the shadows. Stack did just that, feeding off of the blood of humans. Sweet, rich, and even addictive. The taste grew more intense the more he fed. He didn’t take too kindly to it at first, but each person has their own unique taste. He just knew Star tasted like syrup. He couldn’t wait to drench his goatee with it.

Stack’s lips found her nipples and he just knew they tingled once his tongue roamed.

And they did just that for Star.

“I’m gonna have my way wit’ ya’ tonight,” Stack uttered before flicking his tongue back and forth.

Each nipple. Equal attention.

His thick fingers reached between her legs and played with her clit through her fishnets. His fingers played around with her clit, slipping through her crevasses, finding her soft wet spot, fingering her slowly. He could tell from the look on her face she’d never been fingered like this before. Stack explored, changing the pace and rhythm of his fingers, playing around in her pussy.

Star clawed his shoulders.

“Bring one foot up…”

Star obeyed his command.

She was spread better for him. Perfect.

He was knuckle deep, fingers swimming in her pussy.

“I’m just tryna see what I got to work wit’…”

Star whimpered. Just leaking all over his fingers.

“Star…ya’ hear that?”

She stilled herself to get a good listen. Lips sealed.

Squelch squelch squelch

“like I’m diving in the ocean…so fuckin’ wet…”

Stack attempted to add a third finger but Star clenched up and hopped off his fingers.

He brought his hand up between them and Star watched with a dazed look at him rubbing his fingertips together. He sniffed his fingers first before sucking her mess off. Star stood still, eyes blazed, pussy missing his fingers. Those shining eyes held firm with her brown eyes and Stack dropped to his knees.

Get on your knees and arch your back

Star found herself getting into position on the edge of the bed. She did what she was told, arching over the bed, ass sitting high and open, fishnets imprinted in her flesh and revealing a hairy pussy.

“Have you ever had your ass properly worshipped?”

He took his fingers hooked them in her fishnets, and ripped them open with force. Star gasped.

Stack stared at the proud, thick, curves before him, the luscious mocha color of Star’s booty straining as she opened up, revealing both holes. Her ass was the perfect reward for him. That pussy he longed to eat for hours and hours. Stack kneeled down behind her, drooling all over himself to taste and touch and take of her rich, beautiful body.

Stack pinched the tender underside of one cheek, then the other, pulling them apart to see everything in between, a moan escaping his lips as he saw up close just how wet and creamy she is. There’s nothing like a woman’s ass spread out before you, waiting to be taken, to humble a man. Stack simply held her there in his hands, letting his thumbs rest along the edges of her lips, pacing himself before diving in for a delicious treat, one that already had his dick hard, strong, and ready.

You like that, daddy? You like the way I stroke my pussy?

You wanna taste it, don’t you? You want to eat me up like an ice cream sundae?

I’m all yours to devour…I want you to eat every inch of this wet pussy…don’t miss a drop…

Star on the TV was speaking the words for Star in person.

There was so much to taste and touch, Stack didn’t know where to start. The musky scent of her pussy perfume wafted through the air, smelling of sweat, and sweet decedents. Ass hovering in his face like this Stack could shoot a load all over the carpet right there. He couldn’t resist giving each cheek a solid slap, the sound echoing in the room as the sting reverberated in his palm so good.

Have you ever had this ass worshipped?

“No,” came her muffled reply as he spread her open and let his tongue explore her sweet curves.

Stack pressed against her twin globes, giving himself room to taste her sensitive flesh, the pucker writhing beneath him as he buried himself between her cheeks.

Stack curled his tongue into a point and dove right in while his fingers moved closer to her sex, stroking the wetness, what he found there just steadily dripping. He speared her asshole like a famished man. It was just him and her panting and grunting and her voice from the TV and the sound of Stack’s thick tongue and lips.

He dipped that greedy vampiric tongue into and out that ass, his drool acting as lubricant. He worshipped that ass like he’d never get another chance, tongue savoring her. That tongue wiggled down and he drilled it into her pussy. Stack filled her up as best he could, plunging in and out to the beat of her own rocking hips.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Stack heard her cry, a little louder than before as he pressed three fingers deep into her tight tunnel. Stack feasted on Star’s bottom again, those strikingly soft clappers against his cheeks. Sticky syrup coated his fingers. Her walls quivered. Her as whole clenched whenever he dragged his tongue over it.

You’re doing such a good job, daddy!

Eat me! Savor me! Take it!

Make me cum on your long tongue! Your sweet lips!

“Stack, oh my fucking goodness!”

His thumb flicked her bean in a downward motion from her position. He then rubbed it back and forth with his thumb. His tongue sat flat against her labia and he stroked up and down with it, drool coating her folds and adding towards a slippery ride. She twitched and writhed the more slickness appeared.

“Daddy, you’re drooling! So much all over me! It’s running down my stomach!”

Stack curled his arms around her legs and sucked on her clit with a tight grip. Star gathered the sheets into her fists and cried into the bed with nowhere to escape.

He made her cum. So hard.

Star could have fainted from how powerful that orgasm was.

And he wasn’t done.

Stack pulled his tongue out and kissed his way down to her ankles and feet. He got to his feet and positioned her himself for round two.

“Stack, you don’t need a break?” Star asked weakly.

His dick was iron clad and she couldn’t believe it.

He dragged her ass over the edge of the bed and got down on his knees again.

“I ain’t taking no break.” He mouthed. Stack smirked up at her, “You my meal until I’m through, understand?”

Star knew not to speak another word. Not when those eyes were sharp on her and gleaming like a monster.

Stack pulled her lips apart and finished where he started.

Star twitched in his mouth, pussy still sensitive.

“Thought I was gon’ get just one taste?”

Star’s eyes crossed when Stack’s full lips slurped up her clit and moved his head back and forth. She went to push him off and Stack locked her wrists.

“Uh–UHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Stack flicked his tongue and it sounded like he was lapping at water in a bowl. She flowed. Poured all over his damn tongue. He worked hard for it. Stack drank as much as he could down. Next to the taste of blood, pussy juice was the best thing. His tip buzzed with desire.

“You got my pussy cumming again!”

Star gripped his hair tight. Her thighs bounced and shook. Stack was not getting off her pussy.

And her thriving was pissing him off.

“Ouch!”

Star felt a sharp prick on her inner thigh. Sharp enough to make her listen. She felt all the blood in her veins rush to that one particular place. It perked her nipples and made her clit a stiff bud. Stack licked away at the spot he nibbled on before kissing his way back to her pussy.

“Don’t move again,” Stack opened her lips, “Look what following directions get you..clit nice a fat for me how I like it.”

Stack flicked his tongue over it. Star moved her hips up and down, following the way his tongue would go up and down speedily.

“What I say?”

She didn’t have time to respond. Stack pushed her knees so far back she was folded. He went back to toying with her clit. Star clawed his arms, crying out in overstimulation.

“STACK!”

She felt his lips do its job and he sucked away to his dead hearts desire. She extended her neck and whispered “This your pussy, this your pussy…”

He finally came up for air. His whole face glistened with pussy juices down to his chest. Star, bathed in sweat, locked eyes with him.

She couldn’t began to describe how soaked she is.

Pubic hairs slick with spit and cum.

Pussy lips engorged and pulsating with sensitivity.

Hole clenching and unclenching around nothing.

Stack kissed all over her pussy softly, admiring his work in between. Star began to relax, body going lax against the bed.

“That was amazing, Stack. Thank you.”

Stack smirked against her clit. He peered up at her from between her legs.

“Anytime, baby…I mean that.”

Stack kissed his way up her body. Star was drifting in and out of consciousness. He positioned himself above her, staring down into her face.

Sleep, baby…we’ll meet again…

Stack stroked her face until her head fell off to its side. He picked her up and tucked her in. Stack could wait to sink his dick into her. He just needed to eat her pussy. And it was worth the wait.

The sensation of sleep settled over his body, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay. Dawn was approaching.

He’d sleep for now, bringing Star closer so he could breathe her in.

@eggnox @blackisy2k @thickeeparker @theereinawrites @angelin-dis-guise @thee-germanpeach @harleycativy @slut4smokemoore09 @readingaddict1290 @blackamericanprincessy @aristasworld @avoidthings @brownsugarcoffy @ziayamikaelson @kindofaintrovert @raysogroovy @overhere94 @joysofmyworld @an-ever-evolving-wanderer @starcrossedxwriter @marley1773 @bombshellbre95 @nybearsworld @brincessbarbie @kholdkill @honggihwa @tianna-blanche @wewantsumheaad @theethighpriestess @nearsightedbaddie @charmedthoughts @beaboutthataction @girlsneedlovingfanfics @cancerianprincess @candelalanegra22 @mrsknowitallll @dashhoney25 @pinkprincessluminary @chefjessypooh @sk1121-blog1 @contentfiend @kaystacks17 @bratzlele @kirayuki22 @bxrbie1 @blackerthings @angryflowerwitch @baddiegiii @syko-jpg @inkdrippeddreams

#stack smut #stack sinners #elias stack moore #stack x reader #stack #elias smokes x black!oc #nahimjustfeelingit-writes #sinnersfanfiction #sinners smut

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000-pawz · 1 year ago

Text

press play! (bnd) ˚ · .

bnd as male leads , ot6 , fluff , slight angst , movie/film tropes, loosely (!!!) inspired by random movies/dramas/books i've seen and read (with song recs <3)

more under the cut!

a/n: me pretending that all of these are real dramas so i can escape into my silly little fantasy land >___^ <3 also thank you so much for 400+ followers!!! i know i haven't been as active lately, but seeing the sweet messages in my inbox and your genuine reblogs keeps me going for sure. i don't deserve all of this love and support, and yet, i've managed to find my place here. thank you guys!!! my little strawberries ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆<333

sungho ˚ ⋆｡˚ - the "i have no idea why i like you, but i do" lead

university, streetlights, jackets, sunsets, fond eye rolls, sharing books, lunch dates, faint smiles, polar opposites, long calls, gardens, bouquets, lattes, butterflies

to put it simply, you are somehow everything sungho tries his best to avoid in life. disorganization, clumsiness, carelessness, and above all, making a fool of himself; four things you seem to have perfected. you always show up to lectures 30 minutes late, panting heavily as you clutch your backpack to your chest. your professor and everyone else in your course is used to your tardiness by now, so no one bats an eye—but when the only available seat left is next to sungho himself, he starts to mind. first, you ask him for a pencil, and then, you ask him what’s going on, and then you ask him how his handwriting is so neat. sungho responds to you in curt words, never sparing a glance your way as he tries his best to keep his focus on the lecture. but you keep. asking. him. questions.

he knows that you aren’t dumb. you somehow managed to get accepted into this school under a rigorous major, and you haven’t dropped out so far, so there’s no way you don’t know how to keep up. in a way, he sees you as a little yapping chihuahua who laughs way too loudly, and he sighs everytime you wave brightly to him across campus, cupping your hands around your mouth to tell him to wait up so you guys can walk to class together. it seems as if you’ve already claimed yourself to be his friend after your limited, brief interactions. great.

somehow you always manage to find him when he's studying at a cafe, pulling out the chair in front of him to plop down and pester him about what he's up to (and you always manage to convince him to buy you coffee just so you can leave sooner). you purposefully take the spot next to him everytime you show up to class, nudging hi sfoot under the table so you can pull a funny face at him or sneak him a lollipop under the table.

sungho likes to believe that he’s indifferent to you. you’re just another obstacle he has to navigate through in order to finish his day. but he realizes you may have struck a little deeper into his heart than he originally thought when he notices you sitting solemnly on a bench on his walk back to his apartment. you’re dressed up in a nice outfit and he can tell you’ve put in a lot of effort to your appearance, but under the glow of the streetlights, he notices your smeared mascara and wet cheeks, your purse clutched tightly between your fingers. you’re mumbling to yourself as you fiercely wipe at your face with the back of your hand, something about “that asshole” and how you’re “so dumb”. sungho doesn’t know what comes over him as he hears those words, but he finds himself stopping directly in front of you, watching as you slowly tilt your head up to meet his eyes.

“you’re not dumb,” he says, staring down at you with such sincerity. you sniffle a bit, tilting your head at his figure in a confused manner.

“sungho? what are you doing here?” you ask quietly, your voice shaky as you try to stop your tears.

“you aren’t dumb,” he repeats again. “it’s late. you shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

you don’t respond other than blinking owlishly at him. in this moment, he realizes how beautiful your eyes are, glimmering despite the tears pooling at your waterline. a cord in him strikes; he doesn’t like seeing you without a smile on your face.

sungho shrugs off his jacket before leaning down to drape it over your shoulders, giving you a soft smile before offering his hand out to you. “may i walk you home?”

and from that day on, sungho seems to have opened up his heart to you. he asks if you want to visit a cafe after class, helps you catch up in schoolwork, his eyes lingering on your bright smile—and each minute he spends with you, he falls for you more and more. he’s not sure how you feel about him; he can’t read you quite yet, and he’s not quite sure why he likes you so much, but he thinks it’ll be worth the wait, as long as he gets to be by your side.

˚ ⋆｡˚ riwoo - the "i'll look after you, no matter what" lead

bustling city, dinner dates, gentle hands, puppies, headlights, midnight talks, watching the stars, wishes upon dandelions, breakfast in bed

it’s riwoo’s second year working at this company—and subsequently, his second year dealing with his inconsiderate seniors and selfish boss. so when you, the new, sparkly-eyed intern, are assigned two giant stacks of paperwork to go through on your first day, riwoo immediately empathizes with you. when it starts to grow dark and most of your coworkers begin clocking out, you find yourself trapped at your tiny desk with at least 3 more hours worth of work to do.

you’re basically falling asleep, your eyelids slipping shut every few seconds before you finally doze off. riwoo watches you from across the office and some part of him feels guilty at the thought of leaving you all alone here. so instead, he makes you a cup of coffee and brings you a snack, placing it quietly at your desk. he even leaves a few sugar packets next to the mug because he’s unsure of how sweet you like your drink.

and then he waits. he exhaustedly types away at his keyboard, his knee bouncing under his desk to keep himself awake. you finally wake up an hour later with a tiny yawn, stretching in your chair before sleepily blinking at the scene in front of you. he watches as your eyes widen at the coffee and snack before looking around the office, locking eyes with him above his computer screen. he gives you a small smile and wave, to which you return, mouthing out a ‘thank you’. if you’re going to be working overtime, he’ll be there with you.

and it becomes a thing. riwoo makes sure you eat as you work through the mistreatment from your boss, comforting you when you stress cry in the breakroom, taking you out for dinner when you clock out and making sure you get home safe with a small reminder to get some sleep. you find yourself falling his selflessness. he works through those sleepless nights with you, cheering you on with shy smiles and quiet encouragement. before you know it, riwoo becomes your rock.

as you wait for the bus to head home, riwoo jogs up to you, his chest rising and falling quickly as he attempts to catch his breath.

“riwoo, hi,” you greet with a small, tired smile. riwoo’s cheeks are flushed red, his hands tucked deep into his pockets as he returns your smile with a weak one.

“hey, y/n. i just, um… i wanted to ask you something before you leave…” he starts, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. your bus is nearing your stop in the distance, so you stand, adjusting the bag on your shoulder.

“yeah, what’s up?” you ask, meeting riwoo’s eyes. they’re big and round, glossy as the headlights of passing cars speed by. your heart flutters in your chest at just the sight of him.

“i was wondering if i could take you out? on a date, i mean,” he stumbles out, pressing his lips into a thin line once the words escape.

“like a date date?” you clarify. you guys hang out all the time and you have to admit that you’ve started to want more. riwoo is the sweetest, most giving person you’ve ever met and you think you’re already in too deep.

“yeah. a date date.” at his words, your entire face lights up, quickly nodding your head as you answer.

“i would love to.” right then, your bus pulls up to a stop, so you give him a tiny smile, motioning toward the doors. “ i’ll call you when i get home, okay?”

“okay. yeah,” he breathes out with the brightest smile on his lips. “get home safely.”

“i will!” you wave enthusiastically through the doors before they close behind you and riwoo watches you through the windows with a small smile until your bus disappears down the road, his heart light in his chest.

from there, one date turns into two. and then two into three. and then suddenly, you’re at his apartment playing with his puppies while he cooks you guys breakfast, the sunlight beaming through his sheer curtains. even if the weight of the world is falling on your shoulders, you deem it impossible to feel down around your ray of sunshine.

riwoo always waits with you for your bus, letting you rant to him about your day, or things you're interest in, or to just tease him about how he dropped a stack of papers that day. and you never forget to text him when you get home, going to sleep with a smile on your face as you reread the long paragraph he sends to you about how proud he is of you and how he can't wait to see you tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. in this big city full of hustle, bustle and noise, he is your solace.

jaehyun ˚ ⋆｡˚ - the "everyone wants me, but i want you" lead

road trips, rooftop hangouts with friends, bright smiles, street vendors, shared hoodies, soccer games, skateboards, sparklers, bonfires, sunny days

ever since you moved onto campus for university, you’ve had a crush on myung jaehyun. from his silly smiles, to his friendly nature, to his cute nose and cheeks. you like everything about him. the only problem is that everyone loves myung jaehyun—in fact, you can’t name a single person that doesn’t know and love him. so you’ve managed to keep your feelings to yourself for the longest.

you were in the same friend group from the very start, with your roommate dating his roommate, the intermingling of your circles was bound to happen. and in all honesty, you couldn’t wish for a better group of people to be around. you guys always go on road trips together, visiting different cities and towns to sightsee and explore. you attend jaehyun’s soccer games with your friends, cheering him on from the sidelines only to celebrate with drinks in someone’s dorm room after another win. the proximity is inevitable, and the first two years of college pass by before you can even blink. by the end of your second year, you and jaehyun became closer than you would’ve ever thought. but it always remained at that. close friends.

it’s the night of your friend group’s annual bonfire—something you’ve been looking forward to all year. you’ve been worrying about your future: what would happen when you graduate college, whether you would move away or not, would jaehyun ever like you back. but mid-summer is your favorite, especially when the tide is low, everyone has sparklers and drinks, and the night air is light and fun. your bathing suit clings to your skin after your friends had splashed sea water on your earlier, but you don’t mind it. it’s a break from your own thoughts.

you notice jaehyun sitting in the sand near the bonfire, shivering a bit, so you grab an abandoned blanket from someone else’s chair and skip over to him. when you drape it over his shoulders from behind, he looks up at you, his eyes scrunching up with the smile that overtakes his face at the sight of you.

“hey,” he speaks, looking you up and down. you feel your body heat up under your skin, returning the smile with a small one of your own before taking a seat next to him.

“hey. you okay?” you ask, your eyes searching his face. usually, jaehyun is at the center of all the action, but tonight, he seems quieter than usual. the bonfire is warm on your skin, illuminating the sand in front of you.

“yeah, i’m okay. just thinking,” he says weakly, flashing you a tiny smile before looking back at the fire.

“about what?” you pry, bumping him with your shoulder. he looks especially good tonight, with his wet hair and soaked t-shirt, his tanned skin washed in a hue from the fire. you’re snapped out of your gazing when he speaks, though.

“you,” he says bluntly. he doesn’t look at you, but you’re staring holes into the side of head.

“what about me?” you nearly whisper, your voice almost drowned out by the loud laughter of your friends at the shore. jaehyun watches the fire for a bit before he turns to look at you again, his eyes glimmering with something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“how pretty you look. how pretty you always look,” he says. you scoff at his words, bumping his shoulder again.

“stop playing around, jaehyun. i almost thought you were being serious,” you nervously laugh, looking down at the sand.

“but i am,” he replies quickly. “i am being serious. you’re beautiful.”

when you meet his eyes again, they’re boring into yours with an intensity you’ve never felt before. something so foreign and yet familiar at the same time. you can’t do anything but whisper a thank you before your friends are rushing over to drag you guys back to the water. some part of you is unsure of whether that was just another passing comment made by jaehyun. he jokingly flirts with his friends all the time. what difference would it be when it’s towards you?

but when jaehyun texts you the next morning to meet him on the beach, and you see an entire picnic set up with flowers on the sand, you realize that maybe he wasn’t joking. he’s standing there with his arms awkwardly spread out in a ‘ta-da’ manner, a shy smile on his lips as you near him. the sun isn’t fully risen yet, so the sky is still slightly orange near the horizon. he looks softer like this, with his puffy morning cheek and his messy hair.

he confesses that your friends gave him the extra push to confess and helped him set everything up for you. over chocolate covered strawberries and french toast, he finally confesses that he’s had a crush on you this entire time and almost went crazy from keeping it a secret. the morning started with shy gazes, soft touches, and laced fingers as the ocean waves lulled you. with your head rested on his shoulder, you finally feel content. maybe the future won’t be so bad.

˚ ⋆｡˚ taesan - the "everything sucks, except you" lead

big school, skipping stones, handwritten notes, late-night bus rides, comfortable silence, dirty shoes, convenience stores, headphones, lingering gazes

han taesan always tries to stay out of the spotlight. he keeps his head down, his hood up, and his headphones on—in a way, he feels like if he can disappear from other people’s lives, it wouldn’t be so hard to disappear from himself either. he doesn’t have any friends, and if anything, people seem to act like he doesn’t exist at all. he’s okay with that. it’s comfortable. that is, until you come along.

he’s not sure how he’s never noticed you at first. maybe it’s because you’re just like him; you stay out of the way, you don’t speak to anyone, and you’re simply going through the motions. he’s not even sure if you go to the same school. he first sees you on a late bus ride home, near the back. your head is leaning on the window, your face blank and solemn, with one earbud in your ear as you watch the passing city through a blur. taesan doesn’t know what it is about you that intrigues him. let it be the way your sweater is a few sizes too big, or the melancholic look in your eyes, or the way those same eyes meet him from across the bus, piercing and inquisitive.

he sees you again at the convenience store a week later, pushing around noodles in a cup with your cheek in your palm, staring down at your food with no intentions of taking a bite. even in the harsh lighting of the store, your face stops him in his tracks. your eyes follow him as he pretends to not notice your stare, his heart pounding in his ears with every movement. and when he makes it up to the counter to pay, you’re gone, as if you were never there in the first place.

he doesn’t see you again for a while; not until he runs into you on his walk home, sitting on a swing at a vacant park. your shoelaces are untied, and you’re watching the way they flow in the wind. your unreadable gaze intrigues him in ways he’s never felt before. he’s always told himself to not get involved, to not get attached, and to not get in the way. but his feet seem to have a mind of their own as they drag themselves towards you. the sound of his shoes against concrete catches your attention, and he watches with shallow breaths as you lift your head to face him.

“your… your shoes are… um, untied,” he stutters out, moving his headphones to rest around his neck before pointing at your laces. you don’t say anything, but you do follow his gaze down to your shoes, cocking your head.

“can you tie them for me?”

the request is odd, especially for the first words he ever hears you speak, but he finds himself unable to decline. he kneels down by your shoes before taking a quick glance up at your face, his palms growing sweaty with the way you watch him. with shaky fingers, he helps you tie your shoes before he stands back up, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“you, um… i see you around a lot. what’s your name?” he doesn’t know why he asks, but some part of him is overwhelmed by curiosity. he knows why he is the way he is, but with you… you’re an anomaly that eats at his mind. he wants to know you.

“y/n,” you say quietly, looking up at him from your position on the swing. taesan nods with pursed lips, averting his gaze for a second.

“i’m taesan.” when he speaks, the corners of your lips perk up ever so slightly, nodding softly in acknowledgement. something about your faint smile makes his stomach churn and his head spin. he decides then and there that he would like to see you more often; and subsequently, your smile too.

“nice to meet you, taesan.”

“nice to meet you, too. y/n.”

from there, you guys meet every now and then. taesan likes to place his headphones over your ears to show you new songs, and you like to share earbuds on the bus ride home together. he slips little notes about his day in your pocket before you get off with a little p.s. to meet him at the park before sunset. you pick clovers and tie them together to make bracelets, sitting on the swings as you bounce conversation back and forth.

there’s no judgment from the outside world in the little bubble that you’ve created with him. and if he starts falling for you with every curious gaze and passing smile, he barely notices the shift. with you , existing becomes natural. there’s no guilt, or shame, or need to hide from yourself. it’s you both against the world.

leehan ˚ ⋆｡˚ - the "i wouldn't mind living with you" lead

new to town, seashell necklaces, oceanviews, birds in trees, sunrises, midday strolls, the youngests in the neighborhood, cooking together, white t-shirts + flannels

it’s not easy living in a new town, far away from the city that you grew up in, but you can’t bring yourself to regret anything. you wake up the the sound of beach waves and boats docking, the grandmas of the neighborhood leave fresh food on your doorstep, and you get to gawk at the beautiful man that always seems to be at the shore collecting seashells. he’s the only person near your age in the entire town, but for some reason, you haven’t spoken to him yet. maybe it’s because of the way that he’s always alone at the shore, or running around the town helping everyone he can.

leehan, they call him. a few of the grandmas have encouraged you to talk to him, saying that it’d do him well to have a friend his age. yet, something about him is unapproachable—let it be because of his long wavy hair or those flannels he wears way too often. you can’t place your finger on it. so you stick to admiring his bright smile from afar, taking in the way he speaks with fishermen as if he grew up in the water himself, or the way he assists the grandmas in caring their groceries home. he’s entrancing, moving with swiftness and speaking with intention. an aura of confidence follows him around like a glowing shadow. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a small, small crush on him by now.

you sit at the beach with your knees pulled up to your chest, the soft breeze kissing your cheeks as you gaze out at the water, the sun sparkling against its gentle waves. moments like these remind you why you moved here. your escape. although, you’re too wrapped up in soaking up the atmosphere to notice the figure moving to sit beside you, and the clinking of seashells is what pulls you out of your trance. you jump a bit at the sun block of sunshine, shielding your eyes to look up at the culprit.

the handsome, handsome culprit who’s currently holding something out towards you with a small smile on his lips, the wind blowing his long hair into his face. in the midst of your shock, you manage to drag your eyes down to his hand—it’s a handmade necklace, made of white string and polished shells from the shore. the shells are an assortment of light blues, whites, and pinks, perfectly complimenting each other, replicating where the setting sun meets the sea. it’s gorgeous.

“made something for you,” he starts, his smile lopsided and charming. his head is cocked in a playful way, his eyes slightly squinted from the bright sun. he’s even more gorgeous up close. “y/n, right?”

“uh, yeah,” you stutter out, too distracted by the way the sun hits his face so perfectly.

“i realized i haven’t given you a proper welcome yet,” leehan speaks as he hands you the necklace, his voice deep and gentle. your eyes flickered back up to his sparkling ones, quickly shaking your head in dismissal.

“oh! no, it’s okay. i’ve seen you around enough times,” you laugh as you avoid his eyes again, running your fingers over the shells. leehan hums in response, his eyes watching your fingers. alone like this, up close, his atmosphere is affable and soft—nothing like the unapproachable man you’ve seen from afar.

“so, are you liking it here? i heard you moved from the city.”

“i do like it here, actually. i couldn’t ask for more,” you speak, finding his eyes again. leehan’s are curious, sincere, and inviting in all the ways that makes you want to keep speaking. so you do. you tell him about why you came here, how you’re starting a-new and leehan, with a wide smile, offers to be your personal guide around town.

you end up meeting up every morning for a walk by the beach, watching the sunrise as you exchange stories about anything and everything. leehan teaches you how he makes necklaces from seashells, his favorite recipes to cook, and where to find the quietest spots in town when you just need a break from it all. you’re falling for him—with his chivalrous, kind-hearted nature and warm smile—but you don’t mind it at all. you really do like it here; especially if he’ll be around too.

˚ ⋆｡˚ woonhak - the "i'm secretly in love with my best friend" lead

small town, childhood best friends, neighbors, growing up together, coming of age, grassy fields, tiny markets, bicycles, fireflies, shorts + graphic tees

woonhak's big smile has been a constant in your life for as long as you can remember. some of your earliest members are of making mudpies and catching fireflies in jars together, playing tag in the long grassy fields that border your town. you guys are partners in crime, drawing silly pictures in chalk outside of your neighbor’s houses or riding your bikes down to the store to buy all of the mango popsicles in stock with your pocket money.

in your eyes, woonhak is just… woonhak. he is familiar. existing with woonhak was as easy as breathing to you. you remember teasing him when you lost your first tooth before him because it proved that you were going to be more mature than him, or when you took your training wheels off first.

your parents are best friends, and it also helps that he lives directly next to you. you guys have sleepovers all the time, using flashlights under the blankets as you pull funny faces at each other, sharing stories about past crushes or what show you’re currently watching. woonhak knows everything about you and you know everything about him.

your favorite spot to meet up is the flower field behind your house. the grass is so tall, it reaches up to woonhak’s chest, the flowers spotting the green with blooms of yellows, pinks, and purples. it’s quiet there, and you guys are free to discuss whatever and whoever. that’s where you are when you’re watching the stars one night with woonhak by your side, his arms tucked behind his head. you mirror him as you talk about something woonhak did earlier that week.

“you’re so cute, hakkie. still the same after all these years,” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand so your voice doesn’t echo too loud. at your words, woonhak sighs, a big one that catches your attention. “huh? what’s wrong?”

woonhak shakes his head, looking straight up at the sky. “i just… sometimes you say things and it reminds me that you still see me as a kid.”

you turn your head toward him at that in confusion. “what are you talking about?”

“y/n, what am i to you? honestly.” his words come out so quick, you don’t have time to linger on the sharpness in his voice.

“you’re… you’re my best friend, woonhak,” and you’re telling the truth. the answer is simple. woonhak is your best friend.

woonhak is silent for a bit, the crickets and frogs in the distance filling in the lack of noise. his gaze is far off as he stares up at the night sky, his body framed by grass and flowers. for the first time in your life, you can’t read his mind and it terrifies you.

“we are best friends, right?” when he remains silent and your heart drops a bit. “woonhak?”

suddenly then, he turns his head towards you, the side of his face illuminated by the glow of moonlight. his eyebrows are slightly furrowed, his cheeks flushed red from the humidity of summer nights.

“what if i wanted to be more than that?” he whispers, his gaze locked intensely on yours. you feel your heart stop in your chest, your palms growing sweaty from more than just the heat.

“more… more than best friends…?” you repeat dumbly. it’s as if you’re short-circuiting, all of the words that were once on your tongue dying off one by one.

“i…” woonhak sighs dejectedly, turning back up to face the sky. “i like you. i like like you. a lot.”

at the words, something in you clicks. something about the way your eyes always linger on his bright smile when he shows up on your doorsteps at the crack of dawn. something about the way your stomach churned when that girl from fourth period asked woonhak out last year. something about the way he links your pinkies together when you walk side by side, and the way he cups your face when you cry to him, and the way he holds you with so much security and love.

your lips move faster than your mind, sitting up quickly to look down at him with a wide grin. “i like you too. i like like you, woonhak. a lot. too.”

you aren’t sure what any of this means for your relationship, or for your future—but as woonhak laces your fingers together to press a small kiss to the back of your hand, any worry or doubt dissolves with the wind. you’re here now with him and for you, that could be more than enough. more than you’ve ever dreamed of.

reblogs are greatly appreciated! thank u...<3

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