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aboutchriss · 6 months

Text

Bed bugs

Pairing: Idol! Chan x fem! reader

Genre: smut, fluff, maybe crack idk

Warnings: slight choking (just a hand on the neck, nothing more) (f! receiving), dry humping, oral sex (m! receiving), make-out session, cuddles, mention of Chan's room.

Author notes: when I first started writing "Physiotherapy and Coconut Oil" back at the beginning of October, I was convinced to write it as fluff, mainly because I can't write smut; after a couple of weeks, I left it in my drafts, and leave it there till the first two weeks of December, I was under heavy medication bc I had a painful surgery on my foot, and the only thing that helped to go through insomnia caused by the pain was writing that story, I wrote and wrote day and night, and it helped so so much, that's why I was shocked when @ardef38 asked for a pt 2, so here you go love, I hope you like it.

(Kinda proof read, it’s 1:40 am as I’m ’reading’ this so, be patient I’ll correct any mistakes later)

Fun fact: I do really ride motorcycles since I was 17 (and yes I may be reckless).

Word count: +4k (I got carried away I’m sorry)

Thank you so much, I really, really appreciate all the feedback, I love you all.🩷

Sincerely Glo

As always, requests are open!

-✉️

I'm so insecure about my English. As I said, it's not my first language, and I'm always scared to make mistakes or stuff like that. So, if you find mistakes, please let me know. I'll be thankful, and my English will improve!

-✉️

You can read part one here

"Stop moving. I'm trying to sleep."

he mumbles on your back

"I can't, I'm sorry."

You mumble

"Why? What is happening, baby?"

he asks, hugging you tighter

"Uhm, I'm sorry my insomnia is bothering me, I-i don't know why."

"What can I do for you? A cup of tea? cuddles?"

he asks

"I don't know either, honestly, usually I stay in bed and stare at the ceiling."

"It's a common thing?"

he whispers, almost like he doesn't want to be heard by someone

"What? That I can't sleep? Oh yeah, definitely.”

you say, turning yourself towards him

"Mh"

"You should be tired, you know that? after a full day of work and after what we did."

he says

"I know, Channie, but my brain can't shut down."

"I have an idea."

he says, hugging you tighter, your head on his chest with his hand between your hair

"What?"

you ask, looking at him

"Shhhh, just close your eyes and relax, okay?"

"Mh, okay. I doubt that whatever you're about to do, you'll make me fall asleep."

"Shshhh"

close your eyes

go to sleep

know my love is all around

dream in peace

when you wake

you will know I'm still with you

He repeats the verse over and over until you don't hear him anymore.

You know that you fall asleep because of his voice and the lullaby that he was singing, and the way he was stroking your hair gently, but mostly because he's warm; one time, someone said that he's like the feeling of walking in a warm room after spending the whole day out in the cold. It's true he really is like that domestic feeling.

"Good morning, ray of sunshine. How did you sleep?"

he asks you when you walk into your kitchen

"Oh, good morning. I thought you were already gone and good. I don't know which magic you've put in your cuddles and voice, but I haven’t slept like this in months."

you say

"Gone? No, I had to make you breakfast since I've slept over and used your bathroom to shower. I also used your body wash. Now I know why you smell so good."

he says while working on something at the stove

"That's why the bottle is half empty."

you giggle, hugging him from behind

"I'm sorry. I'll rebuy it for you."

he says

"Ya, it's okay, you don't have to. you smell like me now,"

"Yep, and trust me, I love it."

he says

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm"

"Aaah, you're warm, Channie it's freezing today even if it's mid-summer."

you say, hugging him from behind

"It has rained all night, we didn't notice because we were...umh...busy."

he says, turning towards you

"Busy...yeah...Chan, oh my god, it was...did I do these?"

you ask, touching his neck and chest

"No, no, it was a bed bug."

"Ehi -you slap his chest- I-god, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too. we got carried away, didn't we?"

he says, touching your neck and making you shiver

"Definitely, but I'm going to be honest I don't mind it and I don’t regret it.”

you say, smiling and kissing him on his naked chest

"Chan...-you say, sniffing around- something is burning."

"NO THE PANCAKES!"

he quickly turns towards the stove, swearing and mumbling against the burnt cakes

"Fuck, i-i wanted to make you breakfast."

he pouts, looking at the burnt pancakes

"It's okay, Channie -you giggle- thing like this happens when you're distracted."

"So you're saying that is your fault?"

he asks, looking at you, one of his dimples popping out

"Yeah, definitely."

you laugh

"Okay, put something on. I'll buy you breakfast."

"No."

you say

"Yes."

he says

"No."

"Yes."

"I said no."

"And I said yes."

"Channie, you don't have to"

"But I want to"

he says

"But-ugh, what if people see us around."

you say

"You're part of the staff, and we can go to the JYP cafeteria, the one inside the building."

"Mh, okay, but with one condition."

"Which one?"

he asks

a smirk appears on your face

"I don't like that smile."

he says

"I'll take you to the building with my motorcycle."

"You-you can ride?"

he asks

"yeah, I thought you liked it when I did it on your-"

"Shsh, don't-shut up, okay, okay."

he says, covering your mouth with one of his hands

"You're not reckless, aren't you?"

he asks with a worried tone

"Me? Reckless? absolutely not."

you smile

"That smile...I don't trust you."

"Not my business, Channie."

10 minutes later, you are in the elevator, and funny to say, but both of you choose a black hoodie (mostly because you have to cover your hickeys and not to catch a cold since the air is fresher)

"You copied my outfit."

you say, looking at him

"Do it look like I'm wearing Doc Martens and leggings?"

he asks, looking at you

"No, even if you would look good in leggings, but your outfit is total black, just like mine."

"I always dress like this."

“I aLwAyS dReSs LiKe ThIs”

You mock him

“It’s true, my whole wardrobe is black.”

"Yeah, but you still copied my outfit."

you smile, walking outside the elevator, Chan being by your side

"Jagiya.."

he says

"Mh?"

you say, not paying attention to the feeling that you felt in your stomach after that nickname

"I'm scared."

he says, looking at his feet

"About..?"

you say opening your garage door

"I've never been on a motorcycle."

he says shyly

"It's okay, Channie. There is a first time for everything. I'm going to explain everything, okay?"

"You-fuck, you can drive this thing?"

he asks

"Yeah, she's my baby."

"Baby? it's huge, how can you manage to drive this?"

you shrug your shoulders, looking at him

"I just do it, just trust me okay?"

"I do trust you."

he says

"Yeah?"

you ask, looking at him, and he simply nods

"Okay, big boy, put this on."

you say, giving him one of your motorcycle jackets

"I hope it fits; one of my friends gifted it to me, but she took three sizes bigger than mine, and I couldn't return it."

"It's a little bit tight on my shoulders."

he says, closing the zip

"It fits perfectly; you have protections, so it has to be tight."

you say, zipping your protective jacket

"It's weird. I'm not used to tight things."

he says, putting his backpack on his shoulders again

"Now, move, I have to take the motorcycle out of the garage. Can you grab the two helmets there? and when you're out, close the door, please."

you say, pointing at a wood cabinet. You press the clutch and move backward with the motorcycle; when the bike is in the correct position, you press down the stand.

"Okay, give me these."

you say, taking the helmets from his hands

"I'm going to put the helmets on you, okay, and I'll explain everything."

you say, putting the helmet on him. You do the same with yours

"Does it feel loose?"

you ask

"No, it's perfect."

you can see him smiling even if half of his face is covered

"And now -you press the inter-phone button- can you hear me?"

"Oh yeah, it's like you're inside my head."

he giggles

you turn on your bike, leaving her roar

"Damn, it's loud."

he giggles

"Okay, so -you say, straddling the motorcycle pushing the stand up with your foot- use that thing to get on and sit here."

you say, patting on the small sitting place for him

"Are you sure you can-?"

he asks

"Yes, trust me, Chan, I've been riding since I was 17."

you smile at him

he sits behind you, getting more comfortable once the bike is stable

"See? You won't fall; both of my feet are on the ground."

"Keep your feet there when we're on the road, don't put them on the ground at a red light or a stop sign. You have to put your arms around me tight or on the tank, especially when I brake; you'll feel it, so don't worry. When we take a turn, you have to follow me with your body. You're basically my shadow, or even better, my backpack, so follow every movement I make, okay?"

you say

"Yep"

"Now, arms around me."

you say, waiting for his arms

"Hold on tight."

you say before pressing the clutch with your left and putting the first gear with your left foot

"Here we goooo."

you say

"Oh my god, we're moving, ahah wow."

"Hold on tight, Channie."

you say, patting on his hands

"That's-wow, oh my god."

"You want me to go faster?"

you say once you're on the road

"Fuck yes"

he says

and you do as he said. You accelerate and shift gear; the sun has been out for hours, so the road is dry now.

"How does it feel?"

you ask him

"It's like, I don't know how to explain it."

"Freedom?"

you suggest

"Yeah, yes, that's the right word."

he says

"That's why you do it? I mean, that's why you drive?"

you hear his voice through the inter-phone, and you simply nod.

"Can you go faster? I wanna feel free."

he says

"Of course."

you giggle, and you shift once again the gear, the two of you speeding in the streets of Seoul, zig-zagging between the buses, cars, and taxis

"Oh my gooood, too fast, too fast"

he almost screams

"Ahahah, just hold onto me, and you'll be fine, Channie. Trust me."

the grip of his arms around your waist getting tighter

"You're crazy."

he says

"I know"

"And reckless, and oh my god, I want to do this every day."

he says

"I know -you laugh- should I pick you up tomorrow?"

"Oh, I—I'm not that brave. God, you have a big pair of balls to drive a thing like this. I could never."

"Oh, you could, and you would look so hot in one of these, with a compression shirt on-ush what a vision."

you say

"Are you fantasizing about me?"

he asks

"I mean, yeah, you as a biker? damn, Christopher, I would be on my knees."

you say, teasing him

"You were on your knees for me yesterday, and definitely, I'm not a biker."

he says, teasing you back

"I- you- uh- I hate you."

you say

"Yeah, yeah, it was clear with all the 'oh, ah' that you were whimpering against my ear last night."

he says, placing one of his hands on your thighs

"Oh-you-shut up"

you say, glad that he can't see the color of your cheeks

"Here we are person that I absolutely hate, and it's banned from my house."

you say braking and turning off the motorcycle once you're in the proper park

"Oh c'mon, I was joking -he says, taking off his helmet- I'll never mention cute whimpers again."

he pouts

"Shhh, are you crazy talking about this here?"

"Right, 'm sorry, where do I put this?"

he asks, lifting his helmet

"Oh, just bring it with you."

you say

"So...umh, breakfast?"

he asks, breaking the silence between the two of you

"Yeah, breakfast."

you sigh, looking at him, his hair messed up because of the helmet

"Ladies first"

he says, opening the front door of the building for you

"Oh, what a gentleman."

you say, walking toward the elevator, bowing to the person who just stepped out of the elevator

"Yeah, gentleman."

he mumbles, pressing the number three, and once the elevator doors closed, you talk

"What you're mumbling about?"

you look at him

"Nothing"

"Chan, c'mon, you can't do this after what we did."

"I'm -he sighs- I let you go first to look at your ass in those stupid leggings, so I'm not a gentleman."

he crosses his arms

"Oh, well, I'll make sure to put them more often."

you say, shrugging your shoulders

"You're not mad?"

he asks

"that you look at my ass when you can? No. You literally saw me naked, so that's nothing of this -you point at your whole body- that you haven't seen."

"Mh, good to know."

he smirks, and once the lift doors open, he goes

"Ladies first, of course."

he winks at you and you can do nothing but laugh at him.

after a couple of minutes of indecision, his indecision actually, he brings to the table two tall cups of cappuccino and a piece of cake for him

"You sure that you don't want a bite?"

he asks, offering you a piece of pie

"Hundred percent Chan"

you smile at him

"Do you have to work today?"

he asks

"Uhm... no, I don't think so, actually. I'm here just for breakfast—you giggle—why?"

"I have to meet with Han and Binnie for some fixes on a new song and do the usual Sunday live, so...would you mind coming with me?"

"I- you- you want me in your studio?"

"Yes"

"The one where no one is allowed?"

"Mhmm"

he nods, sipping on his cappuccino

"The one where the darker aura Christopher works?"

"Yes, that one."

"Mh, okay, if you... don't mind having me there."

you shrug your shoulders

"I don't mind it. You have a relaxing effect on me."

he says

"Interesting"

you say, sipping on your coffee

"The boys are already there. Should we go?"

"I follow you, mister dark aura."

"Oh, shut up."

he says, looking at you

"Hello everyone"

he says, entering in the studio

"Hi Hyung"

the bandmates say at the same time

"Oh, y/n? Hi, what are you doing here?"

"I-uh, I saw him in the middle of the street, he was like an abandoned puppy."

"Hey"

he says, sitting down in his working chair

"So I offered him a ride on my motorbike, and to pay me back, he offered me breakfast."

you laugh nervously

"You ride a motorcycle?"

changbin asks

"Yes? why does everybody find this weird."

you say

"I don't know, you don't look like someone who rides a motorcycle."

Binnie says

"But I am."

you laugh, sitting on the couch in the studio

The three men start working on the new song. You're not paying too much attention because

1. you're too distracted by the way Chan gets so severe when he's at work, so bossy but at the same time gentle with his members

2. you're working too, on your phone, but you're working, planning all the appointments with the members and the artists of JYP

"Oh, looks like someone had fun last night."

you hear Han's voice, and you're head snaps toward his direction so fast that you hear a crack in your neck

"Yeah, you weren't home last night. Where were you last night, Chan?"

Changbin says

then you notice that Chan took off his hoodie, revealing all the hickeys and bite marks on his neck

"What?"

he asks, looking at them

"Your neck Chan, what the fuck? What did you do?"

Han asks

"Uh, bed bugs."

he says, typing and clicking on his computer, not paying too much attention to them

"Yeah, a big one."

Han says

"One with human teeth"

Changbin laughs

"Oh shut up, the two of you."

Chan says, his cheeks turning pink

"Who is she?"

asks the two gossipy men

"No one, it was a bed bug."

he says once again

"Do you know anything about this?"

Changbin asks, and both of them turn toward you

"Uh, bed bugs are big these days."

you shrug your shoulders

"Mh, yeah."

they look at each other with a smirk

after a couple of minutes, they stopped asking about his marks and focused again on their work, recording some chorus, laughing when someone went out of tune, and listening over and over again at the song till it was perfect

"Aaaaand we're done."

Chan says, stretching up his arms in the air and clapping at the work of 3racha

"Aaaagh, I'm hungry."

Changbin says

"Me too."

Han says

"Hyung, y/n wanna join us for lunch?"

"Oh no, I must go now, maybe next time."

you smile at them

"I have to do the live so."

chan says

"Oh, okay."

they say

"Bye Hyung, Y/N see you on Tuesday."

Han says

"Bye guys, see you."

you smile

"Hyung, see you at the dorm and make sure to eat, or you get nervous, little bed bug…See you on Tuesday."

Binnie says, smiling at you and closing the door behind his back

"HOW THE FUCK DID HE?"

you say, covering your face with your hands

"He's not stupid."

Chan says

"But don't worry, they won't spill anything to anyone, that's for sure."

he gets up from his chair, locks the door of the studio, and walks toward you

"Ugh, are you sure?"

you ask, your voice muffled by your hands

"Yes, I trust them with my whole life. They're nosy, I know, but we have a rule: what happens or what we say in the studio stays in the studio."

He says, sitting next to you.

"Are you sure? I- I loved hat we did, and I love our bond, but I don't want to lose my job, Chan, I've worked so hard to be here, and I don't want to ruin everything because I had sex with you."

you say, looking at him

"Ouch"

he says

"No, no, I don't want you to think that I'm using you because I'm not okay? I loved our friendship way before what happened last night."

"I get what you're saying, y/n, don't worry, it's just that you're...I don't know…after what we did, I don't know what are we? friends? Best friends? friends with benefits?"

he looks at you

"Friends with..."

"Benefits, you know, two friends that have sex occasionally but remain friends."

"Yeah, Chan, I know what friends with benefits are."

"So?"

"What?"

you ask

"Friends with benefits? it will be our dirty little secret."

he says

"Mh, friends with benefits"

you nod

"Let's start this thing from now, yeah?"

he says, pulling your face towards him

"Yes, fuck yes."

you say, breaking the distance between the two of you, kissing his plumped lips again

"The door is locked, and we have about thirty minutes."

he says between the kisses

"Ugh, not enough time."

you say, pulling back from him

"We can go back to my place after the live, yeah?"

he nods, kissing your lips again, more roughly this time. You shift your position, straddling him, your legs on the side of his thighs

"It's not-that simple to- touch you with these stupid- mhpf yoga pants."

he says, kissing your lips

"You said that you loved them."

you say

"Yeah, and now I hate them; I can't touch you properly, which frustrates me."

He says, pulling you closer to him. You can feel his bulge against your clit

"It's okay, we don't need to take our pants off."

you say, smiling at him

"What- why? c'mon, I wanna see that pretty pussy of yours."

he says, frustrated, leaving his head against the headrest of the couch

"Mh, not now."

you say, starting to grind on his hard bulge

"Oh shit, what- do it again, please,"

he says, placing his hands on your hips, guiding you back and forth against him. You kiss gently his neck, trying not to bite him or suck his soft skin because his neck is already a mess.

"You- god"

he tries to say, one of his hands traveling around your body, grabbing one of your breasts under the hoodie

"Uh? you're not wearing a bra?"

he says

"Nope, free the nipples, Christopher."

You laugh while looking at him, poor guy, he looks desperate

"Fuck, full access all this time? Why didn’t you tell me? God, y/n, you're going to drive me crazy."

he says, kissing your lips. You laugh in his lips and keep grinding on his hard cock

"Please take your hoodie off, I want- at least I want to see your boobs."

"Uhm, so needy, aren't you?"

you ask, and he simply nods

you take off your hoodie, shivering, not because you're cold, no it's way too hot in the room, but because of the way that he looks at you; it looks like he wants you to eat you alive, literally. He licks his lips, looking at your boobs at then looking at your face, his eyes jumping between your two twins and your eyes

"What?"

you ask, looking at him, moving a clump of hair from his face

"I want to suck them."

he simply says

"Then do it. Don't be shy, Christopher."

"Oh, don't call me like that."

he says, looking at you, his eyes darkened

"I know that you like it, just admitted."

you whisper to his ear

"Mphf, if you don't stop grinding on me, I'll cum in my pants."

he says

"And? there's no shame in cumming in your pants, I love to see you so desp-shit"

you say, trying to find any other word to say, but your brain is short-circuiting, his tongue is moving around one of your breasts, sucking on the nipple, while with one hand, he pays attention to the other one

"I wanna live here."

he says, sucking and biting your nipple

"Mhpf, in the studio?"

you tease him even if you know what he meant

"Mh -he breaks off the contact between his mouth and your breast- between your boobs, I want to live here, they're-fuck, they're like a warm marshmallows."

you laugh

"I'm dead serious, y/n"

he looks at you so seriously that you have to cover your mouth not to laugh. You kiss his lips, making him smile

"You're going to be late, so let me do something for you, yeah?"

you say, shifting position and getting on your knees in front of him

"Oh fuck"

he says, pulling his pants down, revealing his hard dick

"You're going to drive me crazy, you know that?"

he says, caressing your face

"That's the point, Christopher."

you say, kissing one of his naked thighs

"Please, jagiya, please."

he says in a desperate tone. That nickname again, heavy like a rock on your chest, just friends with benefits, correct?

So you do what a good friend would do, you take his boner with your hands, stroking him up and down a couple of times, licking the tip, focusing on that particular sensitive part, making him whimper.

You take all of him in your mouth, breathing through your nose; you look up at him, his head on the headrest, his eyes closed, enjoying every moment, one of his hands in your hair, scratching your scalp gently.

You keep working with your mouth and tongue, adding once again your dominant hand, just because you can't take all of him in your mouth.

"Jagi...fuck."

"Uh, language, please."

you say, taking him out of your mouth without stopping working with your hand.

"How am I supposed not to say bad words when you're on your knees sucking me off?"

he asks, looking down at you

"You're dramatic."

you say, retaking him in your mouth, you know that he's about to cum because he's throbbing in your mouth

"Baby, i'm-i'm about to."

he can't even finish the sentence that a load of fluid goes into your mouth, you swallow it all the way.

You clean the corner of your mouth with your fingers and stay on your knees, looking up at him with a stupid smile on your face.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He says, pulling his pants up

“I’m not looking at you in any particular way.”

“Yes, you are, come here.”

He says, patting the place next to him

“Thank you”

He says when you sit next to him

“You don’t have to thank me, Channie.”

“I have to, I told you that you have a relaxing effect on me. And I’m talking generally, not when we...do other stuff, you know, even when we do them, but..."

“I get what you’re saying, Channie.”

You giggle

“Aagh, come here.”

He says, placing a hand on your neck and pulling towards him

“No, wait, I’ve just…”

“I don’t care, y/n, just kiss me, please.”

You sigh, and you kiss his lips, it’s a quick kiss, almost as if you did it every day

“You’re going to be late.”

You say, touching his forehead with yours

“I know, but I have to do it, it’s a safe space for me, and stays.”

“I know”

You say, pecking his lips once again

“I’m in my studio, I wait for you there, okay?”

You say, putting your hoodie on

“Mh, okay, thank you y/n, really.”

He says, kissing your cheek

“That’s what a good friend would do.”

You smile at him

“Yeah, good friend.”

He echos you

“Bye, bed bug.”

He says when you unlock the door

“Bye, Channie -you giggle at the nickname- don’t forget to put your hoodie on.”

“I won’t, thank you.”

He says, smiling, dimples on full display

Good friends, right?

A friend that has marked you all over your body

A friend you would go to live with just to have breakfast ready every morning

A friend that makes you feel butterflies,

A friend that fucks you till your brain short-circuit

A friend who makes you fall asleep while singing and cuddling

Maybe he’s more than “A friend”

A/N: me after writing this 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

Tag list: @paboswriting (because of the mention of biker Chan, we have an obsession about him)

#chansshands thoughts #skz #bang chan #stray kids #skz scenarios #stray kids bang chan #bang chan fanfic #bang chan smut #christopher bang chan smut #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x reader

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frenchkisstheabyss · 8 months

Text

୨୧ ʝαɯႦɾҽαƙҽɾ (σɳҽ) ୨୧

୨୧ Pairings: rich boy!seonghwa x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!choi san x chubby!fem!reader, rich boy!hongjoong x chubby!fem!reader, mentions of yunho

୨୧ Genre: graduate school au/smut/angst/a lil fluffy

୨୧ Summary: It was never your intention to infiltrate one of the most exclusive social circles at your new university, seducing rich boys to get who and what you want. Wait, no, it was.

୨୧ Word Count: 1.7k-ish

୨୧ Warnings: reader's in her villain era, demon line are wealthy low key villains too, strong language, some dom demon line/sub reader dynamics, you sleep with everyone darling, oral sex (m & f receiving), swallowing, pet names (good girl), obsession, probably a praise kink (who am I kidding? it's for sure a theme), jealousy/light possessiveness, sugar baby origins, unprotected sex, a lil drop of rough sex, marking, fingering, mention of multiple orgasms, public spicy stuff, light choking, scratching, nibbling, dry humping, & that's it, babes.

୨୧ A/N: This baby has sorta just been chilling in the drafts cause I kinda get nervous to post sometimes but I'm gonna let her be free now. This one focuses on Hwa moreso but Joong and San will get their time too. Yunho's also a part of this, just not quite yet. So, yes, I hope you like it!

୨୧ Part Two is Here ୨୧

Observe a weekly study session held by three best friends. It takes place every Sunday, almost ritualistically so, at 3:00pm sharp in the apartment of ringleader Kim Hongjoong. Situated at the top floor of an old university office turned luxury apartment building, it has a vintage charm to it that somehow makes it feel more absurdly expensive than it already is.

Observe that, despite their long held agreement that this is a “study” session, no one’s actually studying. Not Choi San lounging in the brown Italian leather chair, mindlessly chewing on one of the legs of his round rimmed glasses when he should be wearing them instead.

Not Hongjoong painstakingly rearranging the shoes by the door. Seonghwa’s black Dior Oxfords can’t go near Hongjoong’s custom leather Prada sneakers. They are custom after all.

Not Seonghwa who’s leaning by the window doodling on the crisp pages of his $200 copy of the Netter Atlas of Human Anatomy, an act that would be blasphemous to someone like him on any other day.

But no one’s doing anything they’d do on a normal day because this isn’t a normal day. They’re distracted, unable to peel their minds free from the events of last night and it’s all your fault.

Staring down at the space between his legs, San can only think about the fact that you were there. You, the new girl with your pretty face and soft cheeks. Cheeks that were even softer as he gently cupped them, pressing the tip of his cock to the back of your throat.

The way that you whimpered, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth, is etched into his memory. If he could rewind time he’d do it over and over just to hear those same whimpers muffled by his cum filling your cheeks. You swallowed him so well, not spilling a drop.

“Such a good girl” he’d whispered, petting your hair as your head lay in his lap. Such a good, good girl.

By the window, Seonghwa’s still sketching away. The level of intensity and focus on his face does wonders to make it appear as if the motion of his hand has even a shred of intent behind it. None of it means anything, just a half hearted attempt at busying a brain that keeps reminding him how he fucked you against the very window he leans upon. This exact spot actually.

You, with your plush body and sweet voice had begged, as his lips met yours, “Please don’t stop.” It was pure bliss to have your nails digging into his forearms, the walls of your deliciously warm pussy clenching around him.

You were wet enough that your thighs were almost too slippery to grip when he parted them to sink in deeper. No girl has ever been that needy for him before, so desperate to be ruined by him. Fuck, he wants to ruin you.

“I need a drink” Hongjoong huffs, rushing off to the kitchen. Drinking’s never been something he’s just done. He considers self medication through alcohol to be silly but what else is he meant to do? He needs something to overwhelm his palate and kill the nagging craving to taste you on his tongue.

You, with your bright eyes and innocent smile, had hopped your cute ass on the counter and let him drink from your pussy until he saw stars. How adorable you’d been, kicking your feet each time his tongue stimulated your sensitive clit, his fingers teasing your sweet spot. “One more for me” he cooed and you gave him exactly what he wanted. More.

It’s all any of them want now. More, more, more. They made a promise to each other that what happened last night could only ever happen again if you were all together. The four of you. Not three. Certainly not two. The boys would do with you what best friends do with all things, share, but sharing’s much easier said than done when you don’t truly want to.

Seonghwa slams his book shut, snapping back to reality at a speed too dizzying for the others. “I need to go” Seonghwa announces, scrambling to shove his things into his bag. San sits up in the chair, popping his glasses back on.

“Go? Where are you going?”

“I, uh, I have to go look for something. I’ll see you guys later.”

Hongjoong steps back into the living room just in time to hear the door slam as Seonghwa exits. “Where’s he off to?” A question with only one logical answer that pisses San off the second it dawns on him.

“Where do you think?”

The scholarships aren’t nearly enough. They were enough to get you here but being able to stay? That’s a different story. And so you find yourself here on a Sunday evening, picking up hours at the university’s library to make some extra money.

It’s a grueling schedule. Weekdays waitressing at a five star restaurant, weekends at the library, and every waking hour outside of that spent with your face buried in your books. Well, almost every waking hour. Lately you’ve managed to find time for other things.

Wheeling a cart full of books down one of the aisles, you nearly run over some girl’s feet. “Hey, watch it!” she shouts, shooting you a look that says she wants to tear your head off. “I’m really sorry” you apologize, slinking to the side to let her squeeze past.

“These shoes cost more than your rent, you know that?” she spits before storming off in the other direction.

Everyone’s like that here, always throwing their money in your face. Mommy and daddy’s money anyway. You don’t have what they do, it’s like they can smell it on you, and they’ll never let you forget it. “These shoes cost more than your rent, you know that?” you mock, picking up a book to slip onto one of the shelves. “They’re fucking hideous anyway.”

“Uh, hey, everything okay?” a voice asks from behind you. You jump, nearly tripping over one of the cart’s wheels. Seonghwa grabs you by the arm before you lose your footing. Your knight in shining armor. Well, a cardigan really but close enough, right?

“Oh my god, Seonghwa. You can’t sneak up on me like that. You’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

“It’s a library” he laughs, straightening out your shirt, “I thought we were supposed to be quiet.”

“Not that quiet! What are you doing here anyway?”

That came out a bit harsher than you intended. Thankfully Seonghwa finds it cute when you’re sassy. “Yunho told me you work here on weekends and I thought…I wanted to see you.” “See me?” you ask, the book now clutched in your arms like a stuffed animal.

Seonghwa moves between you and the cart, pinning you against one of the shelves. This position feels familiar, a flash of heat rushing over your body and settling between your legs. Seonghwa toys with the hem of your short skirt, his knuckles brushing your exposed thigh.

“Do you like it?”

“Hmm?”

“Working two jobs. Do you like it?”

“Honestly, I hate it.” You draw in a sharp breath when his fingertips touch the marks he left behind on you last night. Sneaking both hands beneath your skirt, he traces your hips, relishing in the fullness of them.

Your thighs part and he carefully eases his knee between them, the moist cotton of your panties all that separates your aching core from his slacks. Seonghwa leans in to nibble at your bottom lip, “Then quit.” “Hwa, you know I can’t, ah…” you squeak, the book tumbling to the ground as he slowly grinds you along his leg.

He kisses you tenderly, angling you forward to stimulate your clit in just the right way. Seonghwa can already feel you soaking through his pants. You get wet so easily for him and it eats away at his self control. “Quit” he repeats, “I can get you a job at one of my father’s offices. His secretaries there don’t really do anything. You can kind of just sit there and be pretty. I know you can do that.”

Letting go of your waist, he pulls back enough to watch how perfectly your tits sit as you ride his thigh. “Look at you, doing so well already.”

The quiet one. That’s how Yunho described Seonghwa before you met him. He’s quiet but no more innocent than the others are. Never let that innocent exterior fool you, he has a switch and when it flips he’s someone you won’t even recognize.

That switch, you can see it flipping on and off. His eyes bright with admiration one second and darkening with lust the next. There’s something dangerous about him but you aren’t exactly harmless now, are you?

“You’d do that for me?” you ask, taking his hand and pressing it to your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm, taking his thumb between your lips. “Of course I would. I’d…” he loses his train of thought as you start sucking his thumb, the rhythm of your hips picking up speed.

“Anything you want.”

You can feel his pulse quickening. See his face taking on a pink hue. Your breathing grows shallow, the tension building in your core making your body shudder. “So close” you whine, running his hand down to your neck, “I want you to make me cum.”

Anything you want. Anything for you. Seonghwa holds you by the neck, his other hand slipping into your panties. “Cum for me then like a good girl. Like my good girl.”

There’s a chance someone could hear you. Between the splashing of his fingers in your juices and the moans that spill out from your lips onto his, there’s more than enough noise to draw a little attention. That’s what makes it hotter. What has his cock straining against his pants and your eyes glossing over as the tension finally snaps.

Ruin you, that’s what he wanted to do, and look at you now, coming undone so wonderfully. How can he be anything short of obsessed with you?

“So gorgeous when you’re falling apart.”

“Only when I’m falling apart?” you ask, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder. Seonghwa wraps an arm around your waist, kissing you on the forehead.

“No,” he sighs, “And I think that might be the death of me.”

#ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez x female reader #ateez smut #ateez au #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x reader #choi san x you #choi san x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #choi san smut #chubby reader #plus size reader

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

Text

Rigor Mortis (part 4)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 3, Part 5

summary: You get your laptop fixed... eventually.

warnings: smut!! (finally lmfao) masturbation, mutual masturbation, tiny bit of voyeurism, recreational drug use, dry humping, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: caught up to where the og oneshot ends so i wanted to switch it up!!

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 6.8k (still in shock i wrote all this lmfao, i'm strictly a <4k words kinda gal)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lips black and blue and gold.

You're frustrated. Bouncing off the walls, head spinning; and it's for a couple of reasons.

First off: you haven't managed to find a laptop. Money you've worked damn hard for, and you can't really afford a new one. With moving around, you've burnt through quite a bit of your emergency fund. Enough to convince yourself you'll be just fine with a pen and paper in class, and the Google docs on your phone when desperate. It might actually force you to go to the library instead of half assing assignments the night before, you think.

And there's your lab book, which you were smart enough to back up on your computer, but guess what? That's fucked; probably taken apart and sold for scraps by Miguel's mysterious friend , who you've conveniently never even heard of and–

"Just ask for an extension." He says, feet up on the sofa. Oddly enough, you've been doing that more often; spending time together. He's not holed up in his room as much, and spends time studying on the dining table, or pretending not to watch the soaps you've got on TV.

"You're overthinking it. Explain the situation, chula, and it'll be fine." He doesn't even look up, just throws the statement in your direction like the lazy pass of a ball.

You scoff, because he's right, and go back to overthinking. You think you can copy out the ruined half of your labbook by hand, and if you beg your OChem teacher for an extra credit project then–

"If I let you use my laptop, will you stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" You frown as he walks over, and reaches to gently pull your hands apart. He turns your palms over, pointing at the raw edges of your fingernails.

" That. " Mindlessly, you'd been picking at your fingernails, without even noticing. Looking up at him, he rolls his eyes.

"...is that a yes?" You nod, hesitant, and catch the hint of a smile as he pads off to his room.

When he returns, open laptop in hand, he thrusts it into your arms - and sits himself back onto the sofa. This time, he splays out facing you, avocado socks resting on your knee. You fight the urge to push him off, a small price to pay in return for his moment of kindness. He's been doing that more often now, slightly more touchy and maybe even… comfortable around you. Eyes flickering up towards him, you catch his. His brows knead together, and you return your attention to the screen just as quickly.

You're going through the motions, more or less, logging into your college's portal and drafting up quick emails to send to your lecturers. But it's when you open up a new tab, that you see something at the top of the screen and pause. Mouse hovering over an incognito tab, hidden in a nest of referencing websites and scientific journals; it's there. Bold letters, in all caps: WOMAN POUNDED BY BIG BEEFY–

You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. Once again, you look up at Miguel, and he couldn't care less; tapping away at his phone, only stopping to look at the TV. Nevertheless, you shift to hide the laptop screen from him. But you're not going to look, or anything. You know better than to take a look at your roommates porn habits, the stuff he drools over whilst he fucks his fist; a big, dextrous palm wrapped around his shaft.

You've done it. Clicked on the tab and nothing's exploded, as of yet. You turn down the brightness, with some shame, as if to make the paused video less explicit. But the image stays, a woman folded under the weight of the man above – in the middle of bullying his fat cock into her pussy. It's amateur; hot and sweaty and sticky, with only the woman fully visible. You suppose your curiosity's been sated, but you can't help but think…

…the woman. She looks like you.

Tilting your head, you can't help but see the resemblance. Not the exact same of course - but her hair is similar, body type, skin tone, eyes. It's not close enough to be weird, you guess, but it's enough that that thought stays - burrows into you like an earthworm into an apple. Scrolling down, you see other videos, with the same woman, other women that look like you - the telltale red bar of watched videos. Evidence, but not really, and it makes you heat up. Your mouth goes dry, and you look over to him: only able to concentrate on the hand he's got spread out at his belly, the brown flesh peeking out - and how it looks just like the one on the base of the woman's stomach in the video.

"...everything ok?" He's looking at you, suddenly; and you attempt to click over to your original tab, discreetly.

He doesn't seem to notice, padding over to your side and leaning into your shoulder.

"Yeah, no, I just…" All you can manage is a nervous smile. "The screen froze, so…"

"Oh." He gives the track pad a swipe. "Seems fine to m–"

He freezes up slightly, and you watch as his eyes flick up the screen. The laptop is eased out of your hands, and he gives a few quick clicks. By the time it's back in your lap, the offending tab is gone. Imperceptible, his jaw shifts.

"...Should be okay now."

You hum, a little amused at the display. He's seemingly unfazed, his little slip up notwithstanding, and leans back to lie up against you. Obnoxious, he splays onto the sofa cushions, his weight practically smothering you as you fight to push him off. You think he likes it – it's the only possible explanation – and gets off from watching you squirm. He seems desperate for a reaction, a child pushing boundaries and pressing buttons to see what exactly makes you tick.

And that's the second thing: it works . He's more touchy, and just as insufferable – jumping at any excuse to be near you, it seems. Miguel has a tendency to hover, follow you around the apartment as you talk aimlessly, and you do the same. You sit by against the doorway to the kitchen whilst he makes dinner; he floats around the door to your room when you try to study. In fact, you've spoken to your roommate more in the past week than you have in the past month; about anything and everything. Sometimes, he actually tells you where he goes during the day; off to lectures of his own, another tutoring session or his basically-an-unpaid-job of an internship. In your words, it seems like with the shit they make him do at Alchemex, he may as well be a full employee: with way fewer perks and a distinct paycut. It's almost as if they're paying for my degree, he says with an eye roll, practically hanging off your door frame.

He does that a lot, now: arms drawn upwards to lean from the oak trim. Especially during lazy mornings in - he'll hang on the frame, and move to tug at your heel, waking you up despite fervent protest. Ultimately, it's a kindness and you don't know how to tell him how much you appreciate it; as he wakes you up on time to get to the library in good stead. You're still waiting on that laptop, debating whether or not to bite the bullet; but for now Miguel obliges, letting you borrow his now and then.

He's not nice, you think his tongue is much too sharp for that; but he is kind, giving you some grace you're not too sure you deserve. It's more than what you've been given in a relationship of 4 years, and you don't know how to feel about it.

Well, you do. Your talk on the living room floor not so long ago flipped a switch and all of a sudden you're paying attention to your roommate; really, really looking at him. He is very, very pretty; with a tendency for lingering touches disguised as something else. And you're out of practice: horny, frustrated, stressed. With the way he touches you; a hand on your back to greet you, a squeeze of your shoulder to tease, bare legs across yours on the sofa; it's a lethal combo.

And here you are, headphones on, prepping to take a dildo. Incredibly self-indulgent, but you need it . You don't quite have the emotional stability for a one night stand (you think if someone touches you just right, you'll fall in love), but this dry spell has taken its toll.

It wasn't just after the break up, either. Mismatched libidos had felt like a steady death knoll. Realistically, you knew Jaime was always too tired after a placement, but it didn't make you feel wanted. You just want to be desirable and fucked within an inch of your life – was that too much to ask?

As a result, your toy drawer had grown: vibrators and dildos, clit-suckers and g-spot strokers; crude once said aloud, but all in search of something. With the stress of school and Miguel, Schrodinger's slut ; it's a wonder you haven't cracked it open earlier.

You're on the floor, its purple base suctioned to the hardwood and towels to cushion your knees. Lower half completely exposed, it's an art , porn on your phone to complete the visage. The screen is smaller than that of the laptop you're used to, only providing some stimulation. And so, as you sink down on its silicone length, you can't help but think back to the sofa - and the videos squirrelled away on an incognito tab. Miguel, hunched over and fisting his cock to someone that looks like you; maybe even thinking of you – although the jury's still out, on that one.

But you keep it close to your chest, rub your clit to the thought of it: you're his type, and maybe he'd fuck into you like the man on your screen. Broad, gorgeous shoulders and you wonder how pretty he'd look with scratches littered down his back, or hickeys sucked into skin: lips plump and messy and swollen.

"Oh, fuck," You say it under your breath, knowing that whilst Miguel is out of the house, it still feels odd to put your lips around the pleasure that thinking of him gives.

You speed up, the slap of thighs ringing out into your bedroom. The dildo is around 6 inches, sizeable; but you can't help but wonder how it compares to Miguel's. He might even be bigger; thicker, most definitely; and you bet his cock is just as pretty as he is. Oh fuck, and he'd tease; press into your hole just to snatch it away at the last second, rubbing persistent circles at your clit. You hear his voice in your head, the low grunts and groans you've memorised from all those nights he's spent with other girls.

"Miguel," You're moaning shamelessly now. "...f-fuck, please–"

There must be something electric in the way he fucks: with the litany of girls in and out of his bedroom, what keeps them coming back? He must talk them through it, whispering filth with his plush lips against their ear, and you wonder what he'd say to you. God , you'd give anything to hear it him say, just once, how beautiful he thinks you are; for him to wrap his hand around your neck and pull you close. You want him to fuck you; hard and deep and desperate.

With that, your pace quickens and you gush around the toy. A spasm of limbs, and you're clamping down on the silicone – an orgasm that leaves you breathless and heaving. You convince yourself it's the taboo of it: fucking yourself to the thought of your roommate, after listening to his grunts and groans for the past couple weeks. He started it … thin walls, and all that.

You ignore the want that lays stubborn at the pit of your stomach, riding through stuttering spasms as your orgasm winds down. You're touch starved, that's all, and Miguel's the closest warm body to latch onto. Nothing more, nothing less. Groaning, you shift, picking up your hips to gear up for another round. Just once more, so you know for sure.

Thin walls. The sound leaks into your roommate's bedroom. But with your headphones on, you can't hear the sounds that echo back: Miguel O'Hara, back home early, with an ear pressed to the wall and desperately pumping his cock.

~~~

"I'm not completely convinced, to be honest." You're in Miguel's car, tongue sticking out as you fiddle around with the dials.

His gaze flicks over, and bats your paws off the dashboard. Flopping into your seat, you watch as he turns up the AC and switches the radio, as if reading your mind.

"You really think I'd go through all this trouble?" He scoffs. "Bundle your ass out of the house and drive all the way here to…. do what exactly?"

"Assert dominance in our shared ecosystem." You say it with finality, and he scrunches up his face in confusion.

"...what does that even mean?"

"Like in that nature doc you were watching the other day."

"Well, the point was that spiders aren't hierarchical in the traditional sense. They form colonies that are… quasi-social, if anything, and–" He pauses. "Wait. You were paying attention?"

You shrug. "I thought it was interesting."

"Seriously?"

"...no, not really."

You laugh as he pulls over to park, in a space next to what looks like an apartment complex. It looks way nicer than your place, with sandy brick and hedges that look well kept. Your laughter peters off. Miguel looks decidedly not amused.

He opens the car door and clambers out as you scramble for the seatbelt. To your surprise, he opens the door for you; stretching out a hand for stability as you get out. When you both walk over to the intercom, your palm burns with his touch, and flexes with the memory of it. It's becoming a problem, his hands. You push down the beginnings of a hazy daydream. He presses a panel, waiting for the buzz.

"Lyla? Could you let us up?"

He waves demurely to the camera, and the receiver clicks. A cheery voice rings back.

"...Us? Who's us, Miggy? Did you finally find a girl that puts up with your shit?" Her voice is singsong, teasing. With a smile, you watch as Miguel bristles, speaking into the slick panel.

"My roommate, Jesus, Ly–" He says the next bit a little rushed, turning away slightly as if you still can't hear her loud and clear. "I thought we went through this, you can't keep trying to embarassmeeverytimeI–"

She talks over him towards the end, rapid-fire banter that you can barely make out.

"You never come and visit, except when it's 2am and you need to break into–"

"Once! It was one time! Déjate, ya está bueno ya–"

[Let it go, that's enough now–]

"Let it go? No, no, absolutely not… what is it that you always say? It's the principle –"

"Can you just fucking open the–"

"What's the magic word?"

He sighs, mouthing an apology to you. "Lyla–"

"Magic. Word."

He mumbles. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please could you open the fucking door."

There's a pause, and rustling over the intercom. The door buzzes open.

In the elevator up, you keep quiet, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. Miguel is visibly brooding; arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"Don't." He says, with a pout you almost think is cute. Almost.

"I'm trying really, really hard not to." You put your hands up, as if to surrender. "... Miggy."

"Fuck off." And then, a little softer.

"...I told you I have friends."

~~~

You leave it at that until you're in Lyla'a apartment, when she opens and ushers you in. She looks exactly the way she sounds: pretty, mousy features, with her hair in short, choppy layers. She's bundled up into a plush white robe; heart-shaped sunglasses sliding down the tip of her nose.

Miguel breezes past her, towards the murmuring voices you can just about make out in the front room.

"Lovely to see you too, Miguel." It's under her breath, but when she turns towards you there's a twinkle in her eye.

You introduce yourself, and she pulls you into a tight hug.

"I know," She says. It's ominous, but her voice is light and airy. When you separate, she flashes a wide smile. "Lyla. It's nice to put a face to a name."

"Uhh, sorry. What?" She ushers you further into her apartment as you speak, confused.

"Oh, Miggy talks about you all the time. Complaining , mostly, but in that way he gets when he's trying really, really hard to pretend he doesn't care. Like, he texted me yesterday and–"

"Thaaat's enough." You feel hands on your shoulders, and all of a sudden, Miguel is steering you away from her grip. You stumble into her living room, so bright and airy your eyes have to adjust to the light that floods in. Looking around, her apartment is gorgeous; a spacious open plan, floor-to-ceiling windows with a prime view, and lush furniture. Everything about it screams expensive – especially in comparison to your paltry place. Maybe the shock is visible on your face, but you're in awe. She can't be much older than Miguel, right? She looks about the same age, mid-twenties, not too far-removed from college… and it isn't quite adding up.

"How can she afford this? That's what you're thinking." There's a voice on the sofa that makes you blink. A young man with messy brown hair, a set jaw and 5 o'clock shadow calls out to you in between mouthfuls of pizza. "Lyla's… mmhgh… suuper fuckin' rich… mmfgh… that's how."

It's then that you notice there are other people here, sprawled out on the sofa set; boxes of takeout on the side tables next to them. Of course Lyla's rich: only 20-somethings with money to spare have matching sofas.

She's like Beetlejuice, or the Candyman, and pops up next to you when her name's said.

"I work in tech! With a cute little job on Wall Street, and a part-time one white hat hacking." She clarifies. " Ethical hacking."

She giggles like she's told a joke somewhere, and you nod – still not quite understanding.

"...and some side gigs that aren't as ethical." A blond haired man next to Mouthful-Of-Pizza pipes up. "When are you going to introduce us, Miguel?"

He's grumbling in the kitchen area, digging through the shelves for something. He returns with a bag of chips and dip in a container, flopping onto the zebra print throw pillows. Distracted, he waves a hand around the group noncommittally.

"Uhh, Peter, Ben, Lyla." He gestures to you, saying your name, and then to himself; tearing open the bag at the same time. "-and Miguel. All done"

"My turn for questions, now," Miguel says, pointing at Lyla, looking at the boys to his side. "Is she…?"

"...super high? Most definitely." Lyla giggles at Ben's words, for good measure.

"...right. Peter Parker, nice to meet you." He throws a thumb to the back of the sofa, where you notice a little mop of red curls peeking out. "And this is my little Mayday."

Peals of laughter erupt from behind him, and you notice grubby hands with a death grip to the cushion rest. Miguel leaps up, rushing to her side to help her up its back.

"Ayyy dios mio." He scoops her up carefully, "Buenas, Arañita."

Mayday is on his lap now, a little toddler of about 1 or 2, snaking herself around to hug Miguel's chest. She is certifiably the cutest thing you've ever seen: gap-toothed and giggly, with a smatter of freckles like someone's flicked a paintbrush across her nose. And with the way Miguel melts, you can die happy, knowing that you've seen the impossible: Miguel O'Hara, cooing and fussing over the little girl.

"Arañita?" You ask, to no one in particular.

"Itsy-bitsy spider." . ..is the sing-song, choral response from everyone but Miguel. They're mimicking his tone of voice, and he raises his head from May, looking around.

"I don't sound- "

"You do, dude." Peter sighs, tickling the little red head on the tummy; smiling as she collapses into bright laughter. "I don't have a nickname, and I've known you waaay longer than she has."

Miguel covers her tiny little ears, and says, "Eres un pendejo, Parker . "

[you're a dipshit, Parker]

The scraggly man sticks his tongue out in response, and May pulls at his hair for good measure. He yelps, and Miguel passes her over to her Dad. The scene is funny, for sure, but you feel it's warmth more than anything. God, you can tell they've loved and laughed with each other for years; the kind of friendship you'd kill to have.

"We just need whatever's left of her laptop, Lyla," He's blunt, batting away long forgotten chips and dip. "...and then we'll get going. Wish I could stay longer, Arañita, but I've got some work to finish off."

May makes grabby hands at him, and you melt. Who knows how Miguel can stay strong in the face of her big, round eyes.

He gets up to stand next to you, arms crossed. The height difference is stark: his tall, solid frame towering over everyone else. It seems like an intimidation tactic, but you know him just well enough to tell: he's trying not to be swayed by puppy eyes and promises of food.

"You just got here, Miggy." Lyla sighs. "We're going over prep for Jess', and we'll be two minutes, I swear."

"Oh?" His eyebrows light up. "I knew it! You were being evasive on the group chat, and Pete wasn't returning my calls…"

Huffing, he clasps his hand around yours, ready to storm out. "This is an ambush. A goddamn setup!"

"Wait, Miguel, I need my-"

"I'll pick it up later for you, okay?" It's said like an aside, so soft only you can hear it. With his hand around yours, it certainly feels more intimate than it should. And it seems like he realises a little too late, dropping your hand as your faces are mere inches away.

"Um, we should… we should go."

You look past him to the faces blinking at you guys, on the sofa. A pause, and then you're gulping down stubborn feelings to ask a question.

"Jess' ? Is there a party, or something?"

Lyla nods. "Yeah, and Miguel's meant to be picking up cake."

The man in question pinches his nose. "I can pick up the cake just fine. It's the whole… going to a party bit I'm not too keen on."

"Come onnn, you know Jess would love it."

"She'd love to blackmail me with some dumb shit I did drunk, that's for sure."

"It's her birthday, hardass ." Peter whispers that last bit, covering little May's ears like before. "She can have a little blackmail, as a treat."

"You're gonna say no to a surprise party ?" Ben echoes, shaking his head dramatically.

"A surprise birthday?" You light up. "Miguel, you have to go."

His stony demeanor cracks, for a moment. You latch onto it, hellbent on wearing him down. He's always got his laptop out doing work, or cracking open a little notebook to prep a lab. When he's not at home, he's at that internship, or tutoring, or planning a tutoring session. Work, work, work; and you'll be dammed if you let him rot away in a little cage of his own machinations.

"Come on, Miggy." You watch him bristle, prying at that little crack in the surface. This has to be done with finesse: present a challenge, and watch him scramble to prove you wrong. "You're telling me a couple of hours at a party's too much for you? That's it? "

"That's not–"

"S'what it sounds like to me." You shrug, a little smile on your face. The aim is to look as smug as possible; and it seems to be working.

His jaw shifts, annoyed. Lyla catches on, giving you a crazed smile.

"Even your roommate's gonna come." She says, an arm linked in yours.

"I am?" She gives you a little dig, and you're spluttering. "Y-Yeah, I am!"

You can see him fight with his own ego; but it's a one-sided affair.

"Fine. " He strains. "Two hours, max. And then I'm gone."

Lyla gives you a squeeze, and then wraps you both up in a hug he desperately tries to fight off. Ben slots around you guys, and Peter's last to join, with Mayday squealing on his shoulders.

Eventually, you get what's left of your laptop: a little thumb drive with as much as Lyla could save. You'd thanked her profusely, of course; trying to slither out of her vice grip of a hug, as best you could. She's absolutely batshit, the good kind; cryptic, and strange, but with a lot of heart. She makes you wonder, and they all do; just how did they become friends with Miguel? How do they fit?

The man himself seems a little different, as if reinvigorated by being around friends. In fact, you catch him smiling to himself on the drive home. It's sweet; to see a different side of him around people he's clearly comfortable with. If only for a little while, he sheds the heavy weight he seems to carry around.

Around the house, you notice he seems lighter – humming to himself whilst cooking dinner. That very day, you watch the little sway of hips as he stirs a pot; headphones in, singing under his breath. He can't sing for shit, of course, and he'd kill you if you ever uttered a word; but it's a sight you commit to memory, not knowing when next he'll be in such a good mood.

There's still the question of a new laptop in the air, but you feel more settled by the events of the day. You're a little less fucked school-wise, you've got a party to look forward to, and potentially a drunk Miguel to make fun of. He goes to bed early; and you can hear the quiet drone of a podcast from the other side of the wall. He drifts off to the sweet, dulcet tones of Top Ten Genetic Precursors for Early Onset Dementia; one of his favourites, you've determined.

All is well, for now. A tentative truce, and maybe, just maybe: you're finally friends with your roommate.

~~~

There's something about dramatic irony that seems to smack you across the face, every time.

You've come to somewhat of a understanding with your prickly roommate, and the stream of women in his bed seem to slow down, for a bit. He's hot, he's a whore; but he's sweet, with an eye for detail. He can read you with a scary amount of accuracy. Antsy and hungry from a long day? He leaves you scratching your head at his clairvoyance when you come home, chucking you a hot water bottle and a warm meal. You go to bed with a full belly, cramps abated.

He's still a prick, of course. Sarcastic comments, and a massive grump – but you've learnt to deal with that. Just a couple of days after a seemingly settled week; what you can't wrap your head around is the pounding music from next door, at fuck-off-o'clock . He shouldn't be awake, let alone interrupting your late night study session.

You're pissed, leaping from your desk to pound at his door. You're thudding towards his room, ready to deliver a well-deserved verbal lashing, and the door just… swings open. Empty; there's a window ajar and music pumping from speakers. Bachata and cheesy 90s R&B; which sounds suspiciously like his sex playlist.

Yes, he has a sex playlist. And it really has no business to sound as good as it does.

Nevertheless, you're resolute. If he's managed to sneak someone, at this hour, you decide he's going to get more than a stern talking to.

There's clattering in the kitchen, and you whip around; half-expecting the giggle of another girl. When you walk in, it's just Miguel, rummaging through cupboards: a half-naked thief in the night.

"Miguel?"

He pops his head up from a cabinet, with a half-eaten piece of bread in his mouth. Caught red-handed, you suppose; and he gives you a little smile.

"S'everyfin' – mmmfggh –" He scarfs the rest of it down. "Everything okay?"

You squint. "No. Not really."

He chuckles, a slight rasp at the edges of his voice. Dickhead – what exactly is so funny?

"You can't have your music so fucking loud, not when I'm studying. It's the middle of the night and–"

Dressed in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, he's busying himself with a sandwich on the counter; clattering around noisily like he doesn't have full control of his limbs. Which is…. weird, admittedly. You'd trust Miguel to slice a grape with a machete – his dexterity is usually unmatched. Not that you'd made a habit of staring at his hands, or anything.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He nods, attempting to keep a straight face, but the faux solemnity does nothing to hide that droop of eyelids and slump of his shoulders. You get closer, pushing him to face you properly.

"Oh, fuck," His eyes are a little red, hair messy and windswept. "Are you… high? "

Miguel O'Hara? High? You'd never thought you'd live to see the day, honestly. His eyes go wide, dropping his sandwich dramatically. And then he's got a big hand at your shoulder, pulling you closer with a finger pressed to his lips.

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering your name like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone."

With the way he says your name it makes you light-headed. It's slow and careful, as if he's testing the way it feels spilling from his lips. And maybe, with the way he smiles, it feels good; tastes sweet wrapped around his tongue.

"I won't." You breathe, and then you're both giggling.

There's something about the way he looks at you, peering under heavy lashes; basically eye-fucking you in the space of your tiny kitchen. You feel bare in a little t-shirt and sleep shorts; suddenly exposed.

"You should…" He starts, cocking his head ever so slightly. "Join me, chula. "

It's soft; sinful, even; said as he coaxes you between his body and the kitchen counter.

You don't trust your voice enough to answer, legs already shaky, so you nod. Slight, at first; and then with a little more gusto as the idea of him and you on his sheets – intimate, alone – creeps in. He stretches out a hand, and you take it; led to his bedroom like a scene you've seen before. All those girls before you; led to the dragon's lair like damsels in a fairytale. Except in this one, you suppose, you're not waiting for a knight in shining armour to save you.

He sits you down on the bed, passing you a freshly rolled blunt. Passing it to your lips , more specifically; hand on your chin as he brings the lighter up to its end. Even prettier up close, all you can do is watch the press of plump lips, and pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates. As he leans in, there's a hand on your bare thigh. You inhale, deeply, and he hums with content.

"Good girl," He purrs, prying it from your lips to take a slow drag.

"You're a bad influence." You murmur, watching as his eyes flutter shut.

"You need to relax," He leans back, arm drawn lazily upwards. "This is helping."

"That's not–" Oh. You feel it now, a steady haze rolling over limbs.

Miguel quirks up an eyebrow, amused.

You repeat, slowly, "You're a bad influence ."

"Does it feel good?" You pause, trying to ignore his low tone; and the steady blaze that it ignites within you. Dragging your eyes to meet his, you see it: want, lust, something heavy that swirls behind them.

You nod, itching for another pull. As if psychic, he gestures for you to come closer; and your lips almost slot against his. He exhales, and you inhale; in the closest thing you've come to a kiss in months. It makes you ache for just a little more contact, for those pretty hands to slot between your thighs and–

"Is this all I need to do for some quiet around here?" He asks, lilting. If only he'd stop talking; interrupting your fantasy with that stupid grin of his.

You're shaking your head, laughing at the sheer gall .

"You're fucking someone new every week, O'Hara. Loud. Who was it the other day? Cathy, Kayla –"

"Sita, actually." He has a strange expression on his face. "And we didn't fuck. Just going over lecture notes."

"Sorry . Must have gotten mixed up with the half-dozen other girls in and out of here. Our apartment's not a brothel , Miggy."

He rolls his eyes, handing you the remnants of the blunt.

"...s'not my fault there isn't anyone fucking you right."

You scoff. "How would you know?"

"Thin walls. " It's cryptic. What the fuck does that mean?

You take a careful drag, and hand the blunt back – trying your hardest not to strangle him. It must show on your face as you tussle with the thought, because Miguel is staring; unabashedly, unashamedly. When you notice, it throws you off.

"... what?" Ready to defend yourself, you huff.

He shrugs. His expression is soft, reminding you of that night, not long ago.

"You look like a painting."

You practically short circuit. You've been complimented before, of course. Hot, by men trying to get into your pants. Pretty, sometimes. Beautiful, the other times. Whether it's been sincere, you don't know – but you're smart enough to not overthink it. It's hard enough to live a life, as it is; and you'd rather not be bogged down by what others think, how you look whilst doing it. And yet, you feel your body betray you; a steady bloom of heat at your heart, like you've been stabbed. So deep, it spreads like blood on the front of a blouse. Like a painting, he says. And you like the way he says it; how it sounds spilling from his lips.

Its implication sits heavy. Like a painting : hand-crafted, silken, soft –

He blinks, the crack of a smile on his face. And it ends in a fit of giggling, if you can even call it that.

"Stop fucking with me." You grumble, and he thinks the way your face scrunches up with disdain is cute. There's probably an implication there he should unpack in therapy – how he likes it when you shout and put him in his place – but he's much too high to care.

"M'not-" He quiets down, flattens his face into something resembling sobriety and gravitas. He gets a little closer, so close you can feel the heat of his body and flutter of lashes. With wide, dilated pupils, he stills - and it really doesn't help that he looks so pretty.

"Can't stop thinking about you, hermosa." His voice is low, slurred with the weight of the blunt he's taken careful drags of. Every word makes you feel hazy, drawn in by his lips. " Fuck, all the time."

"Hear your laugh in my dreams, sometimes." He circles your bare thigh carefully, without breaking eye contact. With a thumb on your chin, he brings you closer, and closer still. Gently, you close your eyes, expecting the press of his lips against yours…

…instead, you get a puff of smoke for your troubles. Reeling, you push him away. He collapses on the bed in a laughing fit.

"... now I'm fucking with you." Rumbling laughter, and you've got the wherewithal to be embarrassed – hand still resting on his bare chest.

A little cruelly, you push down, giving him an elbow to the ribs for good measure and he splutters with surprise – laughing all the same.

"Asshole." You slur, and he grabs your arm to pull you onto the covers with him. You paw at him wildly, wrestling amongst the table of sheets. It's not a fair fight, not really; the wide expanse of his bare chest feels solid, and he's probably got more muscle in his pinky toe than you do in your whole body. Miguel is strong , but plays along regardless, pinning you to the bed with his hands around your wrists - but lets you turn him over just as quick. You're both laughing, the blunt long forgotten but its haze blurring the lines. You straddle his middle, hips flush against his and he keens; head back and cheeks flushed.

"Fuck," It's quiet, said as he writhes below you and you try to pin his hands above his head. Maybe it's the weed, but he lets you: eyes low, breath steady. And you stay like that, for a moment; bodies laid against one another.

You don't know who starts it: the slow roll of hips, the swell of his cock bucking up against your heat. Regardless, you welcome it, letting the heat build up with the pressure at your clit. Your hips sway and all Miguel can do is watch.

Lips parted, head back; and you set a steady rhythm that washes over you both.

Humping against one another, you get more desperate and drag your hands to his chest for purchase. Underneath you, Miguel practically purrs – one hand on your waist and the other clutching yours at his chest.

"So, so pretty…" He sighs into it, wide palm pawing at your ass, shamelessly grabbing handfuls. By now, he's rock hard; and you feel him throb through the thin material of his sweats.

"Fuck, I can't–" You moan, ragged, the roll of your hips gaining speed.

Miguel coos, bringing a hand to your chin to pull you closer to the crook of his neck.

"Too fast, hermosa. S-Slow it down for me." He grips your waist, forcing the pace to slow. Your hips stutter against his, delicious pressure making you cry out. And, God, you're close; pleasure building up at your gut.

"Ohhh, fuck. Just like that, just like–" It's soft, whispered between the press of bodies like a prayer: reverent, intimate, a slew of garbled English and Spanish into the shell of your ear that goes straight to your pussy.

"A-Ahi, ahi–"

[t-there, there–]

Plush lips brush against your cheek, and you try so hard to not float away - with only his words to keep you tethered.

"... no pares lo que sea que estes haciendo–ohh-fuck–"

[don't stop what you're doing, oh fuck–]

The coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you arch into his touch as he does the same. Miguel spills into his sweats, heaving with the effort. He can feel the clench of your pussy above, and he chases it in the aftermath; craning his neck to finally get a kiss. Limbs heavy, you still manage to swerve so his kisses land at your jaw. He's grateful for the contact anyway it comes and sucks careful hickies into the skin: at your neck, your collarbone, and anywhere else he can reach.

You sink into it, curl up on his chest like a housecat; his hands wandering the gentle slope of your back under your shirt.

Limbs heavy, you pry yourself from his hands ever so slightly. He strains to follow you up, snapping back into the sheets like an elastic band. Still, he kneads at your flesh - bare thighs spilling from your shorts.

" Miguel," You whisper, hand travelling past his neck to cradle his jaw. "Need more…"

You punctuate that last word with a roll of your hips. Wanton, conflicted; he groans .

"It's late, chula. " He says it slowly, hesitant – like he can't believe the words are coming out of his mouth. He's still high, lost in the whispy remnants of that blunt. You've never known weed to make someone more responsible, and you flop to his side, a little childishly.

Miguel makes sure to keep a hand wrapped around your waist, dragging his other knuckles up your exposed tummy so that it rides up to the swell of your tits.

"And you've got that 9am."

You cover your face with the span of your hands, grumbling. From between the gaps in your fingers, you repeat,

" ...and I've got that 9am ."

He traces lazy circles in your flesh. Maybe it's the blunt, or the afterglow of an orgasm; but you make him laugh, a gentle ache replacing the creak and shudder of gears.

"Idiot." He says, kissing it into your skin. And he burns from the touch, fleeting; like the warm flame from paper lanterns, or the flicker of a lighter against cool night air.

Miguel taglist (1): @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#rigor mortis 😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv x reader #atsv fic

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leeknow-thoughts · 6 months

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HE ONLY DATES PRETTY GIRLS

౨ৎ pairing : hwang hyunjin x FEM!reader

౨ৎ warnings : smut (not many details), fluff, college!au

౨ৎ a/n : kinda clearing out my drafts rn lol

It was an embarrassing realization, when you figured out you had fallen in love with him. He was out of your reach, and you knew it. Oh, how you know it.

"He only dates pretty girls," all of his friends seemed to say.

As if they themselves were reminding you of your place.

He was smart, he just needed math tutoring. Every Tuesday and Friday you'd go over to his frat house to help him with trigonometry. Every time you came over you'd learn something new about him. Every time he would also learn something new about you.

Last week you both had done less math and more talking. Speaking of everything from music to exams to shoes.

He was handsome. Even a blind man could see his beauty, because his beauty wasn't limited to that of his looks. He was beautiful in his voice, in his passion, in his kindness.

His presence was beautiful as well. Even if it were fleeting. Every moment with him felt fleeting. As soft as a feather but as heavy as a brick.

You find yourself at one of his parties. Sitting on his fraternity's couch, sweaty bodies surrounding you. "There you are! I can't believe you came!" you heard his voice in front of you.

When you looked up you saw him. He looked beautiful, as always, wearing simple blue jeans and a black tank top. Yet, he looked elegant.

"Uhm yeah of course! Thanks for inviting me!" you try and speak loud enough so that you can hear the words leaving your mouth over the music.

"Wanna come back to my room? It's a little loud here," he inquires.

Of course you obliged. He held your arm as he guided you through the hallways of the house. Up the stairwell and the first door on the left. His room was so, him.

It was clean and tidy. "Bet you have a lot of girls up here," the thought slips your mind before you can stop it from leaving your mouth.

He scoffs with fake offense, "is that what you think of me?"

You shrug, he takes a seat on the bed, patting the space beside him. He wants you to sit next to him. "I mean you only date pretty girls," you chuckle.

His face breaks in surprise, "did Jisung tell you that?"

You nod, remembering how the boy told you such after you informed him that Hyunjin was the one to invite you. "Well is it true?" you ask him lightly swinging your feet back and forth over the bed.

"I only date girls I find pretty," he responds genuinely, "I like girls that are smart and funny and that don't often go out to parties. I like girls that are kind, and that are good at math, those are the ones I find really pretty," he hums.

"Mhm," you pause, "do you like one of the girls in our math class?"

"Oh," his pitch falls, "no, I was talking about you, but yeah you're also in our math class so yeah."

All thoughts leave your head in that instant, "you think I'm pretty?"

"Why do you think it's impossible that I think you're pretty?" he questions.

"You're you," you point to him, "and I'm me," you point back to yourself.

"And you're perfect!" he exclaims.

A wave of silence washes over the room, nothing can be heard other than the beat of your heart. It felt like watching yourself stub your toe but wait those few seconds for the pain to kick in. But the pain never came. Maybe it didn't have to hurt the way you expected it would. Maybe it never would have hurt the way that you thought you knew it would.

And before you can think, before you can speak, his lips are on yours and your faces are inches apart and he's kissing you. He tastes like cherries and tequila he must've had earlier. He's kissing you. Hyunjin is kissing you. He's kissi-

"Why?" you sigh against his lips, not daring to fully part with him.

"Because I need you, I want you, please," he mumbles against your chapped lips.

You can't help but smile against his lips when he says that, "you want me?"

"Fuck yes," he mutters against your lips before pulling you into another sloppy kiss, "I fucking need you. I've needed you for so long."

You don't know where you find the confidence to say, "then take me."

And it doesn't hurt when he bottoms out inside you. Your bodies cling to each other, afraid of the emptiness without each other. Your hands gently trace down his stomach. Each of his thrusts send you closer and closer to the edge, you cling to him when you tumble over it. And it is oh, so perfect.

#bun.writes #bunwritesskz #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz #stray kids x you #skz x reader #stray kids #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin stray kids #hyunjin #hyunjin skz #hyunjin smut

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weezerblue · 14 days

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friends, best friends

A/N the scrapped version of this might come out soon

ALSO : im going back and posting old drafts, unfinished or otherwise bc i have like 40 so enjoy those ; this is an alternative ver of something else i did but my memories of most of the drafts are kinda non-existent like i don't remember writing most of the stuff i wrote during this time (sorry if this is bad)

description steve takes you out on a date after school and gives you the night of your life.

includes aftercare, soft dom steve, nicknames like baby, princess and, cutie, and typical first date stuff

"baby, wake up we gotta go"

his voice startles you, so you wake and grab his wrist to check the time.

"it's already 12:30! how long was I sleeping for?"

he gets up, yawns and grabs your bag for you.

"do you wanna go out later? that one restaurant you always talk about is open and since we're like- official and all now"

you're taken by surprise that he actually wants to be serious about this.

"yes please" you say eagerly, and take his hand as he leads you down the hallway and into your class.

"baby, isn't your class over there"

"yeah, so what?" he shrugs, opening the door for you and taking a random seat and tapping the desk next to him, gesturing for you to sit dangerously close to him.

the end of the day approaches, not without receiving a lot of teasing from steve, leaning over to trace small circles across your thighs with his fingers, looking over at you occasionally.

he opens the door for you again, going around the back of the school because it was closer to his car.

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

you both get seated. and you can already sense the dirty thoughts that are about to come to your mind. there's something about the way steve looks at you, holds your hand, or gently touches your thigh that makes you unbearably horny.

"what's on your mind, princess?"

he shifts his focus to you.

"um- nothing i just, i was thinking of something"

"mind sharin' that something with me, sweetness?" he chuckles.

you rub your thighs together. then you just decide, screw it, he probably knows anyways so there's no point in lying.

"i'm, uh- i'm horny"

you hide your face with your hands, steve's arm still wrapped around you.

"ohhhh so that's what it was, i thought so but I didn't wanna assume. ya should've told me earlier though, could've taken care of you in the car on the way here."

he pulls you closer to him, kissing your neck.

"steve." you look up at him, embarrassed by his teasing. it's one thing to do it in private or in school, but you were in the middle of what felt like the busiest restaurant in the world.

"alright, alright, i'll wait till we finish our food, then it's back to my place deal?"

you nod, and then before you know it, the waiter comes back.

"let me know if you guys need anything else! i'll be right over there"

they point to the bar and exit the booth section.

steve quickly finishes his food, pushing his plate to the other side, then looking at you while you finished the last of your food.

after you were both done, steve got the check.

"alright, you got everything?"

grabbing your drink, you get up and head towards the door, he follows quickly behind you.

upon arriving at his house, you look up at him.

"um, steve?" you look down at the floor, trying really hard to not focus on how hot he looks in the dimmed lights.

"can you- um"

he's looking directly at you now, expecting you to continue the sentence.

"i need you." you barely manage to get out after stuttering over your words a billion times.

he sits down on the bed, as do you.

"i could use my fingers again, or would you prefer my mouth this time? whichever one you want is more than fine with me"

crossing your legs, you blink at him a few times, thinking he'd just understand what you wanted.

"baby, i can't do anything if you don't tell me what you want"

"i want you to fuck me" steve hasn't ever gone all the way with you, sure he's seen you naked and pleasured you before but you hadn't ever gone further than that.

"you sure? you don't have to cutie, i'm happy with just eating you out again"

he rubs his thumb over your cheek, making you smile.

"no, i really want it."

you bring his hand away from your face and hold it, making eye contact with him.

"shit baby, okay lemme go get the camera"

it was a little thing he liked to do, taking photos of you after he'd just fucked you so good you could barely breathe.

he kept all the pictures in a box under his bed, and obviously they had accumulated over time, causing the box to be filled to the brim.

he came back, placing the camera on the nightstand for later.

#october 4th 2022 #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n

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abiiors · 10 months

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silent treatment 💫 // ross macdonald x reader

a/n: this is not a christmas fic, this is just something that i had in my drafts for like a month now because @the1975attheirverybest sent me a photo of ross' tour bus (the one in the banner) from when she went to the baltimore show and of course i had nasty ideas about it lmao. so yes, here we go--the tour bus fucking fic hehe. i'm still really struggling with writer's block and hate everything i have been writing so this might be a bit shit :/ cw: brat-taming kinda, smut obv, dirty talk??? general nasty behaviour wc: 2.2k

american fans are loud.

well, all fans are loud; it’s not really a bad thing to be, but the american ones are especially loud, you’ve noticed. cheers and shouts and whoops of joy at the airport, and a collective roar that tears through the crowd every time the boys come on stage—it’s all part of the world. his world. your world.

girls shriek and cry wherever he goes, hugging him—their bodies pressed against his, their hands holding his, boldly flirting with him too sometimes. sure, he ignores it and only smiles politely. sure, he only signs their stuff and indulges them for selfies but the burn in your chest remains just the same. dull but prominent.

all in all, he likes america and america likes him. you? maybe not so much.

still, it’s not all hate. it’s fun being on the tour bus and driving through the big wide expanses of the midwest, certainly fun when his hand is buried between your legs and the other muffling your moans. fun to watch your nails digging into his thigh as you chase the high over and over again before falling limp against his chest.

today, however, you skew more towards annoyance.

he’s been so busy, he hasn’t even had the time to look at you properly much less talk to you for longer than ten minutes—what with having to leave one city and go to the other immediately. it’s been hectic and he’s seized the chance to nap whenever he can, just like polly and john who share the bus with you. not that you blame him for it—the exact opposite of it, in fact—you’re grateful for any rest he can get.

but the brattiness rears its ugly head sometimes. and now as you stand there in a corner, watching the instruments being taken out of their truck and brought backstage, you can’t help but bite angrily on the lollipop in your mouth.

ross is on the phone across the room, talking to a friend or a colleague or maybe even family. you don’t know. what you do know is his eyes are trained on you and you alone—rather, on your lips closed around the lollipop, on the sticky residue on your lips. your eyes in turn move to his hand—the one gripping the phone in a vice-like grip, knuckles almost white.

it only takes him another ten seconds to end the call and cross the room. and now here he is—towering over you, looking down at you.

“what’s up with you?”

you shrug, tongue flat against the sweet candy, “nothing.”

“nothing?” his voice is low. mostly to conceal it from the people all around you but also full of warning. so you’ve irked him then… good.

you choose not to answer, giving the lollipop a small lick instead. there’s barely any left now but you plan to enjoy every last bit of it.

“what, don’t wanna talk to me now?”

“me?” you ask, exaggerating the confusion in your voice. testing the boundaries.

“yes, you,” his eyes flash a little, “don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about.”

it’s a dangerous game to play with him, especially the way his pupils dialate every time you swirl your tongue around the last bit of the candy, relishing it thoroughly and letting its sweetness linger on your lips.

ross leans down, mouth directly next to your ear. “you can be a brat all you want, sweet girl. as long as you’re ready for the consequences.”

and before you’ve had the chance to reply, he bends down and closes his mouth around the rest of the lollipop. a loud crunch cuts through the silence. he straightens, smiles like nothing’s out of the ordinary and leaves you holding the now empty white stick.

ross is busy talking to the organisers of a local artists’ collective.

he laughs and chats animatedly and listens to them talking about how much they value this opportunity that the band has created. their voices are loud and boisterous—happy, giddy, excited. a complete contrast to you sulking in the corner, scrolling through tiktok and watching one pointless video after another.

his eyes flick to you once in while, linger on you when matty takes over the conversation. you see the warning in them so clearly. don’t be a baby. don’t pout. but you ignore and double down. if he doesn’t want to give you attention then you’re not going to beg for it. no matter how much you want to pull him into some broom closet and show him exactly what he’s missing.

you cross and uncross your legs and send him a look.

look what you to do me.

he sends one back.

busy. not now.

so you go back to your phone. scroll, a makeup tutorial, scroll, ten must buy amazon things, scroll, movies to watch this winter, scroll— a snap of his fingers breaks through your monotony.

“come share a fag with me.”

you take your sweet time looking and him an deciding if you’re in the mood to smoke, even go so far as to make him ask again.

“well?”

“sure.”

it’s quieter once you’re outside. there’s still the sounds of traffic and a bit of laughter floating out from the inside. somewhere someone’s playing a familiar tune and you watch ross light his cigarette. the fire casts a warm glow on his jaw briefly, on his stubble that’s coming in once again after shaving it off for halloween.

the skin on the inside of your thighs stings from the memory.

“open,” he says and you obey, letting him stick the end of the cigarette between your lips and taking a drag. the smoke burns but with some satisfaction you see the lipstick smudge you left behind.

ross is just taking his own drag when you blow the smoke on his face and shrug when quirks an eyebrow.

“generous of you to take five minutes out of your busy schedule.”

“careful, love,” he warns and lets you take another drag of the cigarette. “don’t be a brat. you know i’m busy.”

“you’re always busy.”

“is that so?”

he looks amused and it riles you up even more. he’s the one that’s supposed to be affected, not you! a beat of silence passes and ross slowly drags his fingers up your arms leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“my gorgeous girl,” he says and presses a kiss to your shoulder, moving his mouth to your jaw and then to your collarbone. “are you mad at me?”

“no.”

“no?”

you fight to contain the shiver that passes through you. even when you can feel the little tingles intensifying throughout your body. need swirls through your stomach the more his mouth moves on your neck.

“then what’s this silent treatment for, huh?”

“what silent treatment?”

“oh, baby,” ross tuts and his stubble grazes over the sensitive skin of your neck. “you really wanna play dumb?”

every retort flies out of your brain when he grabs a hold of your hips and pulls you close to him.

“you know what happens to dumb little bunnies, right?”

“y-yes.” it’s almost a whimper that quickly turns into a half moan when his hand rests on the back of your thighs, trailing up and up and up until it’s almost on the curve of your ass.

you yelp when he pinches the skin.

“you want to be fucked that bad, huh?”

and now you finally have him where you want.

“so now you want to be loud,” ross mocks and dives back under your dress.

this torture has lasted for a good ten minutes now. the insides of your thighs already feel raw and chafed. and he hasn’t even properly started yet. he’s still busy marking up the smooth skin of your legs.

“always a good girl when you want something from me, aren’t you?”

you nod fervently, trying to stifle the mewl that’s about to leave your mouth. instead you clutch his head and try to push him where you want. ross is quicker. before you ever know it, his hand it wrapped around your wrists and he pulls back again, looking at you with yet another warning glare.

his hair is a mess, his mouth wet from leaving all those kiss and bites on your skin but it’s his eyes that really get you—pupils blown out so wide that his eyes might as well be black.

“please ross, please,” you whine, shamless and desperate and dying for his mouth to be back on you.

“please what?”

“please make me cum.”

your pout has stopped affecting him a long time ago, even when you look at him with teary eyes and spread your legs wider. the underwear was discarded somewhere the minute you got inside the tour bus and now he has the perfect view of how wet you are. how ready for him.

the inside of the bus feels uncomfortably hot or maybe it’s just your skin that’s sticky and sweaty and in desperate need of his touch.

“no silent treatment anymore?”

“no,” you shake your head, “gonna be a good girl now. please please please.”

“yes, you are.” ross smiles and it feels more sinister than genuine. “i’ll stop what i’m doing if i hear another sound from you, baby.”

“w-what?”

“dumb little slut,” he mocks again, mouth so so close to your clit that it’s impossible to focus on anything else. “don’t want people to walk in on us, do you?”

“no. no!”

“then be quiet for me.”

easy for him to say. because his lips attach around your clit at that exact moment and you bite down on the back of your hand to stop the loud moan from escaping.

“ungrateful, spoiled little brat,” ross tuts, presses his tongue flat against your opening. “look at you now.”

the heady mix of big and small licks makes your head spin, makes you want to cry out his name over and over again but for the sake of your sanity you stay quiet. for each small whimper that still manages to escape you, you feel a small sting on your thigh—a nip or a bite.

“my sweet, filthy girl,” he coos, ghosting his lips over each bruise, each bite and goes back to torturing your cunt.

“ross, can i–oh! can i cum, please!”

“gonna cum for me, already?” he teases and pulls away entirely. “and what if i said no.”

the look you give him is one full of desperation—tears gathered on your lower lashline, bottom lip swollen and red from bitting hard to keep quiet.

“please!”

“no.”

and that’s that, just like that his head is back between your legs, tongue hot on your cunt as his nose pushed into your clit. between trying to stay quiet and trying not to cum you barely have any grip on reality. all you know is how it feels too much, too much pleasure, bordering on pain now. the urge to let go is too strong.

“let me ask you again, baby,” his voice comes through the haze in your mind. barely even audible. “are you done with the silent treatment?”

“y-yes, m’sorry!” you whine, “won’t do it again. wont—”

“look at you…” his condescending tone somehow turns you on even more. the humiliation somehow adds to the pleasure. “ready to be my good girl again?”

“yes, yes!” the buzzing in your ears is so loud now, his voice barely even comes through. all you know is the feeling of his tongue inside you and the stinging of your thighs. the sticky sweat on your skin.

your legs shake from the strain of denying yourself an orgasm, your head swims with too much of everything and nothing all at once.

“go on then,” he speaks. finally. “you can let go now.”

all you manage is a long whine and every single restraint drops. you think you grip his head between your thighs, practically convulsing from the force of the orgasm that hits you, trembling from the way his tongue laps everything up. it’s beyond you how he manages to hold you upright.

you think you scream out his name, practically alerting everyone in a five kilometre radius. you think you pull on his hair and hear him hiss. but ross lets you.

minutes later when he finally stands, his beard and mouth glistens with slick.

“there’s my good girl,” he coos and holds you in his arms.

“look at me,” he coaxes a bit until you manage to open your eyes and look at him properly. despite how fucked he looks, there’s a sweet smile on his face. and his eyes soften when you meet his gaze. “sorry i ignored you before, love. don’t be mad at me.”

“m’not mad at you.” you mumble and every single negative emotion from before melts away within seconds.

“good.” his smile widens, just a touch of mischievous once again. “now that you’ve learned your lesson… let me make it up to you.”

and just like that, he’s back on his knees, diving between your legs once again.

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dreamingofep · 1 year

Text

At Ease

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: kinda🤭

Prompt: Today is the day Elvis comes home from the army and you’re waiting for him with open arms. He wants to show you how much he missed you. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, teasing/ tension, SMUTTT, oral sex, fingering, the usual really dirty stuff.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 5K

A/N: Hello everyone!

I love some army Elvis and he looks way too damn good to not write about him! Like who gave him the fucking right I hate it. This idea came with the help of @loving-elvis when we noticed how beautiful he looked in this interview and what fun could be had on that desk🤭 I purposefully put that bottom left picture on here for good reasons 🫣 Thank you @cryingabtab for the title name🩷

Again this man has me weak, I’ll never get over him so I hope you enjoy this little one shot and let me know what you think!

I also mentioned earlier that I'm also posting my fics on Ao3 so you can read my stuff there too if you want! The link is on my masterlist. Thank you again❤️

Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

March 7th, 1960

Excited nerves rattled your body as you waited for the white gates to open to Graceland. These last two years have felt like a lifetime since the last time you saw Elvis. He left your life in such an abrupt fashion and you couldn’t believe they shipped him off to Germany so quickly.

You had only been seeing each other for a few months before he was shipped off so it wasn’t a serious relationship by any means. You both did have a really nice connection though. One that was so easy you didn’t need to think about being a certain way with him or do anything that you didn’t feel was right. He just had this presence that calmed you, but also left you on edge with a tingly sensation running down your spine.

He was just as heartbroken about the news of the draft as you were. His career was taking off and he was doing what he loved. Couldn’t help but feel he was cheated of the opportunity to do more, but he’s coming back home today and you know he’s going to make a big impact with whatever he does next.

On his last day here in Memphis, you clung to his shoulders, not wanting him to go so soon. You had hope that things could go further with him but the draft might spoil those chances.

“When I come back, if you don’t already have a man takin’ care of ya, will you be here waiting for me?” His voice cracking with emotion.

You gazed into his beautiful blue eyes, trying to memorize how they look into yours.

“Yes honey, I’ll be here,” you whisper.

He cracks that crooked smile you love so much and kisses you passionately, flames building inside you. His hands squeeze your hips, pulling you in closer to his warm body. You feel your heart gallop in your chest, your body wanting him like never before. But it’s all too late, and the wonder of what could have been will haunt your dreams for the next two years. He pulls away and looks at you breathlessly.

“If you want, will you be good for me? Stay untouched and everything,” he asks innocently with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You nod your head, squeezing his hand assuredly.

Within these last two years, no guy has caught your eye, not the way Elvis Presley does. Your friends would set you up on dates with some guys but they always fell short compared to Elvis.

His daddy let you know a few days before that Elvis was coming home and he wanted you there if you weren’t busy. You were thrilled Elvis told him about you, giving you a glint of hope that he still has feelings for you. You knew you were playing a dangerous game though. Elvis could have found a new love in Germany and forgot all about you or he might want you again.

The white gates slowly open and the black Cadillac makes its way up the winding driveway. Everyone that gathered on the steps of Graceland buzzed with excitement to get a glimpse of Elvis after all this time.

The back door opens and out comes that tall, blue-eyed boy you’ve missed so much. He was wearing all black, his tan chest peeking out from his dress shirt that was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. A gold medallion hung from his neck and he flashed that million-dollar smile you had seen so many times in newspapers and magazines. His hair perfectly styled and drooping down onto his forehead when he moved. You couldn’t imagine a better looking man.

He gets rushed with hugs and kisses from his family members and you can’t help but feel the excitement grow inside you to get a hug from him next. His eyes dart up to meet yours standing there on the stoop of the entryway and he looks at you in awe. He politely parts from everyone and makes a beeline to you standing there. He looks you up and down, his eyes lingering places on your body longer than he normally would and it makes you blush. Elvis bites his lower lip as he smiles and shakes his head at you, “well goddamn. Aren’t you the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he gushes. He wraps his arms around your torso and picks you up, giving you a big hug. You can’t help but squeal as he squeezes the air out of you. You giggle as you breathe again and instinctively wrap your arms around his neck. He places a soft kiss on your cheek and sets you back on the ground, taking another look at you.

“Is it possible you got more handsome?” You ask coyly. He grins down at you, not letting go of your waist. There’s an intense heat radiating through him, his eyes boring holes into your entire body.

“No honey I’m still just me. You on the other hand… my God you look so gorgeous. I really missed you,” he smiles.

You can’t help but reach for his face, caressing it with your thumb, and look into those mesmerizing eyes.

“I missed you too Elvis,” you say shyly.

He reaches for your hand and intertwines his fingers in yours. He looks back to the crowd forming and pulls you into the house, closing the door hoping no one will notice his absence.

“Where are we going?” you say in a hushed whisper as he’s pulling you swiftly to the back of the house.

“Away from everyone. I just want a second with ya before I get bombarded with people,” he says as he opens the back door and rushes into the back office outside. He closes the door and the stillness of the office brings a chill to you. Not only that, but the way Elvis feels around you is something you hadn’t experienced before. He feels so comforting and at the same time, dangerous? You can’t really put a finger on what it is but something has changed about him. And it’s not necessarily a bad thing either, it’s just overwhelming and makes you want to sink to your knees. The confidence that he carried now shined through him like never before. When he left, he was still trying to figure himself out, the fame blinded him and he was still a little shy kid from Tupelo. But now, the confidence he carries is so… attractive. You don’t want to get away from him.

Elvis’ hands find your waist once more and pulls you in to hug you, leaning down his face into the crook of your neck. A chill forms all over his body as his skin touches yours.

More… your body screams.

Your brain races a million miles per second and you try to calm yourself down.

He sighs softly and looks back at you, almost unsure of what to say.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I wouldn’t want anyone else waiting for me,” he coos, tucking your hair behind your ear, showing your face to him.

“I wouldn’t have missed it, honey. It’s been too long,” you say, your hand snaking up to his soft hair.

A new tension forms in the room and your heart pounds because of it. There’s a dangerous glint in his eye the more he looks at you. A look of want? Need? No, lust. Raging, burning, lust when he stares at you. He parts his lips and subtly licks them, his eyes looking like they’re intoxicated.

“Baby?” He murmurs.

“Hmm,” you say dreamily.

“I need to kiss you,” he says as his breathing starts to hitch.

Your hands grab onto the front of his shirt and pull him in closer.

“Well what are you waiting for,” you whisper, pulling him into you and reaching up to kiss him.

His soft lush lips press into yours and you could swear this is what heaven feels like. He breathes in deeply as he goes for another kiss, heat coming off of him in abundance. Your hand wanders over his chest, feeling the soft little hairs that lay there. His lips continue to devour yours, putting his hand on the back of your neck, making a soft airy moan slip from your lips as he deepens the kiss.

Elvis likes this response from you, letting a moan of his own come out and he pushes his hips into your body. Your heart dances wildly, relishing in this new sensation he’s giving you, feeling his member grow hard with need. You gasp when you feel his bulge and your core begins to throb.

You look up at him breathless, needing more of him but not too sure what to do next.

“Oh honey,” he mutters, his hands grappling at your dress, scrunching up the pretty tulle fabric.

“Elvis… I-I-I want you… you feel good,” you stutter out.

A cute coy smile appears across his face.

“You feel even better baby.” He says cutely.

He walks you back toward the desk, lifting you up and sitting you down on the cold surface. He steps in between your legs, causing you to spread them apart more than you normally would.

“Baby uh,” he stammers.

“What honey?”

“Have you been good? Staying a good little girl for me?” He asks. Heat rushes to your core as you realize what he’s asking of you.

“Mhmm, yes honey. Been on my best behavior,” you assure.

A little smirk forms on his face and he grabs a hand full of your dress up, moving it above your knee and stopping there.

“Can I see? Can I feel how good you’ve been?” He says low, his voice dripping with temptation.

Wetness pools in your panties and there’s nothing more enticing than having Elvis touch you. You want it so bad it feels like you can’t breathe properly without his skin on yours.

“Yes, you can touch me,” you squeak out.

He lifts your dress up higher, exposing your white cotton panties that now had a wet stain on them. He sees the stain and his eyebrows shoot up and he hums to himself in contentment.

He loops his fingers into the waistband of your panties and you lift up your hips to help him get them off of you.

You’re left exposed there on the table not sure what the state of your pussy might be looking like but based on the way it feels, it has to look a mess. He crouched down to get a better look at you, spreading open your folds with two of his fingers and seeing the wetness spilling out of you.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “Someone’s been a very bad girl,” he tsks.

Your whole body feels on edge and a bit embarrassed, but you know Elvis wouldn’t make you feel bad about this sort of thing.

“I’ve only been bad since you drove through those gates,” you stammer. “Just the sight of you has me dying…”

“Oh I see honey… can I feel how bad… how bad this pussy needs attention”

Your heart thumps wildly and you are so magnetized to him and his gaze. You never want him to stop looking at you like this.

“Yes, please touch me,” you whimper.

He leans into kiss you, his tongue entering your mouth and tangling against yours. You pull him in again by his collar and moan. He slowly pulls away, his eyes looking at you ravenously.

Elvis places his index finger on your lips, rubbing it along your bottom lip.

“Open your mouth and lick,” he instructs.

Your breathing hitches and you nod your head, opening your lips apart and letting him push his finger in your mouth. You lick his long finger, swirling it like a lollipop, getting most of it wet with your saliva. You grab onto his wrist and continue the motions as he watches you intensely. A deep guttural growl comes out of him as you look up at him with pleading eyes, watching him come undone with this one small act.

He slowly pulls his finger out, traveling down to your wet heat. His finger gets in between your slick, wet, folds and he cusses when he feels how soaked you are. He rubs it back and forth a few times, giving you a new shocking feeling and increasing the throbbing sensation that has formed there. His fingertip finds your entrance and he carefully plunges it into your core. You gasp, never having been penetrated before and unaccustomed to anything being inside you. His finger feels so long inside you and your walls hug it taught. Your mind races with the thought of what his dick could feel like inside you. If his fingers were long… surely he had something to hide in his pants.

Elvis moans when he gets knuckle deep inside you, grabbing onto your thigh and squeezing it with his other hand.

“Fuck honey, this pussy feels perfect. I want to be inside you so bad,” he moans, his finger curling up and pushing up against this spot inside you that could make you scream.

“Mmm, oh god yes,” you moan, bucking your hips into his hand. He gives a pleased chuckle as he watches you grind more, figuring out what feels best.

Suddenly, a group of voices start to get closer to the office and their footsteps become louder. You freeze, your heart sinking to your stomach as you don’t know what to do.

“Shit,” he mutters to himself.

He carefully pulls his finger out and licks all the slick that’s gathered on his finger. He moans when it hits his tongue and his eyes roll back slightly.

“Mmm, taste so sweet honey. We’re gonna have to wait though, the reporters are coming, I need you to hide,” He says controlled.

“What? Right now? Crap, where should I go?” You say in a bit of a panic.

He pulls your dress down as the voices become louder, “get underneath the desk baby. Don’t make a sound,” he says as he leads you to the back of the desk and covers the back of your head so it doesn’t get hit. You crouch down and get in the corner of the desk, bending your knees up to your chest and try to control your breathing.

The door bursts open and a bunch of men’s voices fill the small office. You hear camera bulbs flash and everyone trying to get Elvis' attention.

“Elvis right here!”

“Elvis how’s it feel to be home?!”

“Elvis turn to the left please!”

You hear his father’s voice telling them to calm down and ask questions one at a time.

Elvis is quiet as they snap a few pictures and then he goes to sit down behind the desk. You see his legs move the chair aside and sits down, spreading his legs open and pulling his slacks up.

You stare at how he’s sitting like he’s just teasing you in your helpless state. He leans forward on the desk, waiting for the reporters to get organized before they ask their first question. There’s little light coming through but your eyes get drawn to his crotch. There you see the outline of his hard member, pressing against his leg. You have to place your hand over your mouth from the gasp you wanted to make. He was so much longer than you could have ever anticipated and that growing need of having him inside you grew immensely.

The throbbing grew inside you and you squeeze your legs together, needing some relief. You pray that this interview isn’t an hour long or something because you’re going to be in agony by then. Elvis starts answering questions very nonchalantly, his smooth deep voice bringing a zing to your core. His southern inflection on certain words makes your heart leap out of your chest. How can he be so sexy just doing the bare minimum?

His foot rubs against your leg, rubbing it up and down as he sits back and swivels his chair side to side answering the questions.

Your hand snakes up his pant leg and you squeeze his calf. His leg tenses when he first feels you but then relaxes. Your fingers rub slow soft circles on his toned leg and he starts to move it. You’re not sure if he’s moving it out of nervousness or out of distraction but you can’t keep your hands off of him.

The next question has you at attention and you stop rubbing his leg.

“Elvis, did you find anyone special over there?”

He chuckles amused by the question, “No no I didn’t. I did meet this one girl… but it was no big love affair or anything. They just took some pictures when I was getting on the plane that’s all.”

You let out a sigh of relief, thankful he wasn’t madly in love with someone else overseas. But right now it honestly didn’t really matter, he wanted you and was wanting to make love to you and your body craves him. He scoots the chair in some more, leaning on the desk waiting for more questions. Your hand travels further up and finds his still hard length. The heat radiates off of him and it makes your mouth water. You rub it gently, up and down, feeling his body stiffen when you put more pressure. He clears his throat as he answers the next question and pushes the chair in even further under the table, giving you better access.

His hips subtly rut into your hand and your need for him grows when he does this. You never thought you could make him feel like this but you have him all in your hand and based on how he’s moving, he’s loving it.

You feel your wetness seep out of you and run down your leg. You were turned on like never before and needed him to pour all of his attention on you.

More…. Your body continues to scream.

Your hands move up further until you find the button of his pants and slowly slide down the zipper.

He puts one of his hands on his thigh and scrunches the material of his slacks in a frustrated manner.

You make sure not to move too quickly to not give any attention to what’s happening behind the desk. Your hand reaches into his pants and pulls out his hard length. You press your lips together to hold make the moan you want to make as you stare at his cock.

He was much longer than you thought and part of you is nervous to have all of that inside you, but on the other hand, you are so unbelievably horny for him, wanting him to stuff you to the hilt with it. You feel the tip of him leaking with a clear fluid. Your thumb swirls it, spreading it along his head and his hips jolt forward, making it seem like he was just adjusting in his seat.

Your hand starts to slowly jerk him, feeling the heat of him in your palm like a hot rod. You feel so dirty for doing this but love that it’s with Elvis and it seems he’s enjoying it. Another really bad idea comes into your mind. One that you’ve only ever heard of from other girlfriends and right now, it seems like a really good idea. You want him in your mouth.

Your heart continues to gallop, almost sure that everyone can hear it in this room. You decide to go for it, and pull back his foreskin and swirl your tongue on it. The clear fluid tastes salty but your mouth waters for more. You wrap your lips around him and put more of him in your mouth. You hear him take a deep breath in as he answers the last question and try to maintain his calm stature.

Your wetness continues to pool more and the throbbing becomes almost insatiable. You try to not make any noise with your mouth but it is difficult. You have to take it slow and based on Elvis’ hip motions, he’s liking it.

The reporters thank Elvis for his time and people start to file out. A few of them hang back trying to get another question in but his daddy escorts them out and informs them the interview is done.

“Daddy, please let me be alone in here. Don’t let anyone in. I need a moment to myself,” He says calmly as your mouth takes more of him. You hear his audible gasp and clear his throat again.

“Sure son, no problem,” He assures.

The click of the door closes and Elvis stays still, making sure no one is going to come in. He moves his hips away from you and you release his length from your mouth. He stands up and swiftly goes to the door, turning the top bolt. You hear his footsteps come around the desk and he pushes the chair away from it. He reaches his hand underneath the desk and finds your arm and pulls you out from underneath.

He has fire in his eyes and looks so unbelievably intense. Taking the back of his forearm, he wipes the desk off clean. Papers fluttered into the ground and paperweights made a loud thud when they hit the carpet.

He picks you up underneath your arms and sits you down firmly on the desk. Your eyes wander down to his open slacks and see his length in a better light. You softly moan when you see it, veins protruding from his shaft and the head of it peeking from his foreskin, red and glistening with your spit.

He places his hand on your chin, making you look up into his eyes.

“Jesus Christ woman, look what you’ve done to me,” his head shoots down to look at his length. He doesn’t let your head move and you just have to wait for what he wants to do next.

“That stuff you were doing was very bad… I liked it a bit too much,” he says devilishly.

“Oh yeah? I wasn’t sure but… I’m glad you did. I really liked it too,” you say timidly.

His hands squeeze your thighs, spreading your legs open and pulling up your dress to rest his cock on your folds. You gasp at the sensation and he moans deeply. He takes his cock in his hand to rub the tip of it on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasp and claw at his arm, cussing underneath your breath.

“God you’re so wet honey,” he groans as his length gathers more of your arousal on him. He watches you intently, seeing how your eyes cannot be taken away from his length. He chuckles inwardly and continues to tease you.

“You see something you like?” He asks deviously.

Your breathing quickens as you continue to watch him rub his length through your folds.

“Y-y-yes Elvis I umm… oh God,” you pant, letting these euphoric feelings wash over your body.

“What baby, what is it? Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” he tantalizes.

You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your cheeks turn scarlet with what you’re about to say. “I just… umm… I didn’t expect you to be so… so big,” you mutter, looking back up into his eyes.

A soft smirk forms on his face, “it’s gonna feel even better inside you,” he coos. “Are you ready for me? You want me to take care of you?”

Your head feels like you’re on a cloud and drunk on him at the same time.

“Yes please,” you mewl.

He pulls your dress up off your body and pushes you back on the desk to have you lie down. The cold surface hits your back and sends chills through you as Elvis looms over you. His hands squeeze your breasts and another bolt of lightning travels through your body to your core.

He lines himself up and pushes the tip in, making you cry out. He grunts when he tries to put more inside of you.

“Fuck honey you’re so tight. You need some help taking me.” He says pulling out of you and placing two fingers on your clit and rubbing there. You let out another needy moan as he works you. He coats his two fingers in your wetness and carefully pushed them inside you.

“Ohmygod,” you cry out and your head pops up off of the desk to watch him finger you. He curls them and feels out your fluttering walls.

“Yes baby that’s it, keep nice and relaxed for me,” He beckons. His fingers reach places you haven’t even known about, making the slick between your legs grow even more. You begin to rut into his hand, letting your instincts take over and get the most pleasure out of it.

He groans when he watches you, almost looking envious of his fingers with how good they’re making you feel.

He quickly pulls them out of you and you moan with feeling so empty.

He lines himself up again against your weeping hole and looks at you, he sees your pleading eyes wild and lust-filled.

He pushes himself in and groans heavily, your wet heat wrapping tightly around him. You cry out for him, feeling the searing pain and pleasure filling your body. He keeps a slow pace, pushing in more of his length with each thrust. You watch as he pulls out his cock and see your wetness cover it, then get buried back inside you. It’s all too much, the sensations that he brings to you are like nothing you’ve ever experienced or thought you could experience.

Elvis hisses as he moves faster, “goddamn honey, feeling so good. Squeezing my cock so tight already,” he slurs. He grabs onto your hips and starts to drive into you like this. You moan louder, feeling the pain sear through you.

“Elvis please,” you cry. He rubs one of his thumbs on your clit and moves it in fast circles.

“You’re doing so good honey. Almost there,” he says as he pushes the rest of his length inside you making both of you groan.

“Oh god Elvis yes,” you moan. Pleasure slowly starts to seep through your veins and tightens the coil in your belly. He moves his hips faster, hitting all the right places and making you feel so good.

His face looks gorgeous like this, so concentrated on you but so lustful. He makes the most delicious noises when he takes you, grunting and panting for air as he stuffs you completely. His eyes are glued to his length going in and out of you and how each snap of his hips makes you moan even louder.

The pain subsides and all you can feel is mind-blowing satisfaction. You sit up on your forearms to look at him fuck you, your coil tightening by the second. His hips pound into you harder, rubbing your clit with the perfect amount of pressure, bringing you closer to orgasm.

His eyes drink you in and suddenly stop when he looks at your belly. He cusses and places his hands on your lower belly, putting a new pressure there making you feel so full. Every snap of his hips drives you wild and you’re so close to screaming his name.

“Look baby, look how deep I am inside ya,” he grunts breathlessly. He lifts his hand and you can see the poking of his head pushing up on your lower abdomen. You moan deeply, unable to take much more. The squelching coming from between your legs makes Elvis take you faster, wanting to take you to the edge.

“Fuck Elvis, that’s so good,” you gasp, placing your own hand on your belly to feel him inside you.

He growls, too far gone with lust raging through him, “Oh honey, takin’ me so good. You’re gonna make me cum,” he groans.

He leans down to suck on your breast, licking and biting at your nipples. Your walls flutter and you know you’re going to cum. He sees the panic and pounds into you harder, almost knocking the wind out of you.

“Come on baby, let yourself go,” he pleads.

You throw your head back and scream for him as your walls squeeze around his girth. Your entire body radiates with pleasure and you can’t catch your breath with how he’s taking you.

He moans your name too, barely able to contain himself while he’s inside you.

“Goddamn baby, I need to cum…” he grunts through his teeth, his hips becoming sporadic and his strides uneven.

He abruptly pulls out of you and jerks his cock in his hand. You watch as white-hot spurts come shooting out of him and into your belly. You watch in awe as he comes undone in front of you, probably one of the single most hottest things you had ever seen in your life. The way his eyebrows furrow together and opens his mouth before letting out the most satisfying-sounding moan you’ve ever heard.

Elvis pants over you, wiping the sweat from his brow and leaning onto the desk with one hand. You look up at him in a daze, unable to comprehend what has happened within this last hour. Your body feels weak yet floating on a cloud. You have no idea sex could be that good let alone it being your first time. Those famous hips put in the work and left you breathless. You look down at the pool of his arousal sitting on your belly, and back up to him.

“Was that okay for you honey? Did I do a good job?” He asks innocently. You nod your head yes quickly, almost laughing that he even had to ask you that.

“Oh yeah honey, you were… God I have no idea what to say, It was so damn good,” you gush.

A smile forms on his face as he looks at your body again, “Good baby, I loved it too. I couldn’t get enough,” he teases, wiping your belly off with a tissue.

“Well umm… I’m free for the rest of the day…. If you decided you wanted some more of me,” you tease.

He lets out a little chuckle and his eyes light up, “I might just have to take you up on that,” he coos.

•

Tagging 🖤: @powerofelvis @plasticfantasticlOver @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18Ikpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7

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bonefall · 7 months

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Do you have a design for Bright Storm? I'm fond of the wise older figure thing you're doing with her

I do NOW

Made her, as well as a revamp of my old Thunder Storm design (I last drew him like a year ago!!) in preparation for some character summaries I plan to bang out after finishing a couple drafts, but Bright in particular gets requested so much (anon you're like the 4th person) that HERE, lady girl and her son be upon ye

I'm thinking about doing the BB!DOTC character summaries in "family" posts, so they're all grouped together the way I plan them to act in the story. Every family is telling a little mini-story of its own, in a way, from the Frost family and their inventing prowess, to the Heart family and how the kits react to Bumble's exile, to the Storm family and how they grapple with Clear Sky's influence.

I wanted to make sure Bright Storm was very large and powerful looking, but in a round, kind of "humble" way. She downplays her strength, her intelligence, and even her better judgement.

So she has these big cheeks, fluffy primordial pouch, poofy tail, keeps her head low-ish. Tends to deny compliments.

I was commiserating with my partner the other day about how intelligent characters aren't allowed to be thick-bodied. So between my fat, beloved Bumble the translator and Bright Storm the wise woman battle strategist I'm feeding us both

I needed to "finalize" their stripe pattern, because I actually plan for TIGERSTAR to have the same one. I'm probably going to update my Tawnypelt and Bramblestar designs to have it too; if they don't look better with Goldenflower's.

I just like the irony and bitterness of it. That these ancient stripes, once so associated with compassion and righteous fury, turn into a "legacy" so divorced from what Thunder Storm and Bright Storm stood for.

Becoming a symbol for the idea of modern ThunderClan and the culture of the new times, not the principles it was founded on.

Also I HAD to do the design thing where Thunder Storm's stripes look like top surgery scars lmao, my beloved transmasc boy

Anyway, I've decided that Thunder Storm was a REALLY dark orange. It bugs me a little, especially in-canon, that he looks nothing like either parent. So in BB he's not too far off color-wise from his mama.

I also removed the old "mane" and replaced it with combination white chest + his father's shoulder burls. The mane is going to become a Forest Cat trait, which is why it's going to get so prominent in ThunderClan.

Instead, Mountain Cats have a REALLY high concentration of ear tufts in their genes. They're also huge and generally hairy.

Funny enough though they're also "oily." They come from the Lake Cat population which was pretty water-resistant because of constantly dealing with the lake, and they haven't lived in the Mountains long enough for natural selection to get rid of it.

It's going to become SUPER advantageous for those who move to the River Kingdom, but become less prominent in the other populations.

But for now, Mountain Cats are kinda... well, naturally 'stinky.' That's not a BAD thing to cats who are animals who LIKE strong smells, but it is a notable trait that I'd like The Wind Runner in particular to comment on.

Thunder Storm: "Well? What did she say?"

Bumble: "Ummmmmm......"

Thunder Storm: "be honest"

Bumble: "she says she smelled you coming when you were upwind. rudely."

99% of the time when I'm changing character eye colors, it's to make them NOT blue because there's too many blue-eyed characters in WC imo. BUT.

I think it was another tiny waste to have the narrative constantly stressing Clear Sky's blue, blue eyes, almost like they're hypnotizing, and then they never really comment on what Thunder's eye color signals to other people.

So I've got an idea; instead of amber, Thunder Storm has ELECTRIC BLUE eyes. Almost green, like his mother's minty ones.

Intense as his father's, but more focused. Sharp. Shocking.

Side note: in my research I actually learned it's easier for tripod cats to RUN than it is for them to walk. They can "canter" like a horse, but when they go slow they have to hop. Taking this into consideration.

I put a splash of white on the little bit of lower limb that Thunder Storm has on the leg, so it sticks out a bit more. I don't want it to be hidden I want it to be prominent

I also figured out a hilarious trick for Bright Storm to pull on Sky's Clan at some point lmao

Thunder's crew is in conflict with Sky's cats and the attacks are getting more and more frequent. They decide they need some extra time to carry out some kind of hunt or diplomatic mission, but Bright Storm only has a small group of cats to pull off a stunt with.

She knows she can't fight them head on, but she NEEDS to buy her son more time, so she hatches a plan.

Clear Sky values his intelligence and his ferocity very much. To a fault, even. He loves to outsmart his opponents and overpower them-- so Bright Storm gets all her cats to build a very large, very tall, nearly impenetrable wall out of briar thorns. There's only one way in; the well-guarded tunnel they've constructed in the front.

It would be a challenge for a lesser cat. But Clear Sky, clever devil he is, realizes they've made a fatal flaw; they've built their camp right next to the trees. His fighters don't need to jump over the wall or push through it, the oaks are their allies!

So, while Thunder's cats are all surely sleeping, he gathers his best men and come through the canopy. In well-trained patrols, they swoop down into the camp and prepare for battle.

and no one is there.

You see, there was only one way in... and only one way out.

And Clear Sky and his best fighters watch with HORROR as the tiny crew of guards seals that entrance up like the neck of a bag. There are no trees to climb INSIDE the wall, and it's too tall to hop out of. It won't hold them forever, but it will hold them JUST LONG ENOUGH.

Bright calls this little plan "Operation Timeout."

#I can't help it. Ever since I mentioned how cool a warlord gray wing would be now I can't stop thinking about Bright Storm doing--#Art of War Looney Tunes tactics lmao #LET THE BATTLE CATS BATTLE #BB!DOTC #BB!Bright Storm #BB!Thunder Storm #BB!Thunderstar #Better Bones AU #It feels very fitting for Bright to have a lot of very ''annoying'' but nonlethal plans like that #Though she CAN and WILL hurt others to defend her family #She doesn't LIKE doing that.#One thing I do want her to keep from Gray is his aversion to violence #But unlike him she's able to come to terms with the fact she HAS to defend what she loves.#And though a lot of it does come from the love she had for Clear... it also comes from her compassion and kindness towards others.#She's been lead astray and blinded by her love of him in the past (especially in how she abetted what happened to Bumble)#But unlike Canon!Gray she's ashamed of what she did after she sits with the consequences #She doesn't want to hurt anyone. But she did. She let it happen. Contributed even #And that's rough.#YOUR HONOR. I LIKE HER.

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aioliravioli-69 · 5 months

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Detective Noir AU

Alright, this au has been sitting around, waiting for me to finish it but chances are, I never will :((

So instead, I'll just post what I have so far

This was inspired by that one comment on the au post the author made(at this point you could consider me a stalker for the amount of hours I've scrolled through her feed💀)

First things first, none other than our main character himself, Detective Hollow!

I made him the detective in this one mainly because I was basing it off of the theory that if there was no heroine the keyholder would simply become the hero instead(don't remember where I read this but I'm guessing it was the webtoon comment section).

I also my have just really wanted to draw him in an overcoat

gonna be honest, I did little to no research going into this AU, the thing I most tried to learn about was the femme fatale so I could get a good view on how to design Buddy

Speaking of the femme fatale:

Seems like someone got caught in the spotlight!

And before you ask, yes, those are pants. Weird ones, but pants nonetheless. I swear, I hate lighting when it's from the front. Frontal lighting can go fuck itself. Please ignore the little help lines I put in

Honestly, Buddy's outfit was probably the hardest part of this one. I wanted him to look slutty, but I didn't want to make it TOO slutty, but I feel like I may have added WAYY too many folds in his pantsuit and I kinda messed up on the overcoat lol. The diamond on his chest was inspired by the diamond on the villainess key more than anything and I tried to incorporate that into his gloves too.

Anyway, have some potential outfit sketches I made:

the two I thought might come off as too slutty and

the ultimate winner of the outfit ideas

As you can see the diamond chest window and fur coat were a mut in this outfit and I'm pretty happy with the end result

Y'all know how the femme fatale usually has to seduce the main character a.k.a. the detective?

Well, y'all know me so have an extra just for you <33

But I'm not done just yet!

Remember how I said that I made Chase the hero because of the lack of a heroine in the story? Well...

I did some more surface level research(and I mean very surface level) and decided to adapt the trope of the girl-next-door archetype for him!!

Don't think it suits him, since they usually just sit pretty and wait for the detective to notice them, but they do have badass roles once in a while and I live for those!!!

The one Chase has taken on doesn't though sadly :')

I decided to go with Charlie Hollow for this one because it sounded more like something the timid and 'pure'(yuck I know, but sadly film noir movies often prop up comparisons between the femme fatale and the girl-next-door, this being one of them) girl next door would have

Overall I tried to make this one as cutesy as possible because, why not lol

Lastly(I apologise, I made this in a rush because I was running out of motivation)

The distance between Buddy and the detective sure did close QUICK-

Originally I was planning on adding Deacon as a police officer and now that I think about it I could technically fit Prunella in here as well, but I just don't have any willpower left to keep this thing alive

My art blocks been acting up recently and I can't even pick up the pencil without immediately wanting to put it down :((

I wish I could have continued this and maybe I will someday, but until then this'll just stay in my drafts

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muniimyg · 6 months

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ teacher assistant!jimin ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist request: closed

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @rrosiitas @jkslvsnella @parkinglot-nights @kissyfacekoo

teacher assistant!jimin always grades your paper first so it'll be last in the pile when he gives them out the next day. oh and let’s not forget the golden star he puts on your paper. it’s an inside joke…. kind of. from the corner of his eye, he would watch as you anxiously wait for him to call your name. alas, when he finally does; he dismisses everyone else. as everyone packs up and leaves, you happily skip to him and thank him for his notes on your draft. he smiles warmly and tells you, "you deserve it. you worked hard." you laugh. “just say my writing is your favourite.” jimin rolls his eyes but agrees. “yes, ___. your writing is my favourite.” then, just as you're about to flatter him, your best friend tugs you over and whines, "how many more A's are you gonna give ___? kinda offensive since she's more of a D cup—"

teacher assistant!jimin never really knows what your schedule is like. every day, you have something to do after his class. today, as you're rushing to leave, you take a moment to stop in front of his desk and open your bag. you take out a container filled with cookies. "i made these for you!" you begin. "i hope you're not allergic to nuts... they're white macadamia cookies. i think i saw you eating one before class the other day s-so i just thought—" he takes them. "thank you. they look good." you take a breath in and giggle. "g-good. i... uhm, i have to get going b-but yeah.. enjoy the cookies, jimin." when you leave, he smiles to himself and takes a cookie out of the baggie. he bites into it, and thinks to himself... this is the best cookie he has ever eaten.

teacher assistant!jimin saves the last few cookies for the evening. on his way home, he bumps into nam joon. "oh, you got cookies too?" nam joon beams, as he takes a baggie of cookies out of his hoodie pocket. nam joon gives jimin a toothy smile. "is it ta appreciation day or something? did ___ give you some too? she's cute, huh? i didn't know she was taking a class of yours." jimin feels his chest tighten. why did nam joon get cookies too? didn't you make these just for him? you mentioned knowing it was his favourite. white chocolate macadamia nut cookies are not nam joon's favourite. in all honesty, jimin isn't sure what is nam joon's favourite but it just can't be his favourite. because those fucking cookies aren't for him. oh. jimin is pissed. trying to keep it together, he answered nam joon; "she takes my 10AM." nam joon munches on his cookie. "that's cool. she's in my 12PM—ah, shit. is this white chocolate macadamia? isn't this your favourite? i'm more of an oatmeal chocolate chip kind of guy but this is sooo fucking good." jimin's lips curve into a half smile. so... the cookies must've really been for him—"i bet the others really like this cookie though. she has that jin guy as her professor professor and you know what all the girls here say about him—" nam joon swallows the rest of the cookie. "he likes girls with D cups."

teacher assistant!jimin would be the pettiest little shit to you the next time he sees you. he’d ignore you as you walked in and said good morning to him. then, every time you raised your hand, he’d pick someone who didn’t even have their hand raised. at all costs, he was avoiding eye contact with you. like what??? rude…. also, he gave you your paper FIRST. there wasn’t even any written feedback. no. gold. star. yet, you have to give him some credit. at least his bitter feelings towards you didn’t effect your—a D????? he gave you a D????? this is WRONG. this is unacceptable. as the class is dismissed, you gather your things to talk to him. jus as you approach him, he swings his bag over his bag and bumps into you. “oh shit, sorry—“ “i got a D.” “yeah… that sucks.” with a frown, you confront him. “you’ve never given me a D.” “it was nothing personal, ms. ___… your writing lacked. it wasn’t good. anyways, i gotta get going. i’ll see you next class. if you really want, take it up with prof. he takes re-submissions for one assignment per student.” as he moves past you, under your breath you huff; “nothing personal? bullshit.”

teacher assistant!jimin doesn’t know what to do when you yell his name in the middle of campus. at first, he wants to believe it’s all his head. so, he continues to walk away. but then… everyone starts to turn their heads and look at him… why? because of you. you’re storming to him with no thoughts—just a tired heart. “jimin!” you yell with the kind of tone that has everyone intimidated. finally, he stops. he turns around and stands still as you approach him. you huff, “did i do something?” he tilts his head at you. “what?” you roll your eyes at him, shoving your paper to his chest. “d stands for did i do something.” jimin takes your paper and shrugs. “ms. ___, like i said… take it up with prof. i’m clocked out—“ “bullshit.” “ms.___—“ “oh my god, jimin! you know my name. you have my number—which is a waste since i’m still waiting for you to text me—and you always look at me in class like you could—“ jimin grabs your wrists and drags you to a tree nearby. at least here, people would have to squint to watch what happens next. “let go—“ you shake his grip off of you. he glares at you in return. “if you have a problem with me, figure it out. drop out of the class, talk to the prof or—“ “we’re almost finished the sem, why the hell would i drop this class—“ jimin hates this. he feels like he could hate you. “i don’t have time to deal with you acting like a child—“ in disbelief, you poke his chest. “like a child? oh come on! i spend all my class time looking at you with heart eyes and my free time baking you cookies. my writing is your favourite. there’s no way it deserved a D. also, i’ve been waiting for like… EVER. waiting for your text—now, on a random wednesday morning—you think i’m a child? now? really? are you mad at me or something—“ he gulps. “yes.” your eyes widen. “yes?” jimin sighs, letting himself sound ridiculous, “yes. i’m mad at you. you do all that shit and have these cute conversations with me—and then do this whole cookie gesture… but it wasn’t for me.” “what are you talking about?” “you made cookies for all your ta’s.” you hold back your smile. “that’s it? you gave me a D because you were jealous? over cookies?” jimin hisses and just as he’s about to turn and walk away from you, you run up in front of him. “hey, hey, hey,” you giggle. “i didn’t lie. i made those cookies for you. the other girls i have class with made their own batch and gave them out to their ta’s. is this about nam joon? i only gave him cookies because there were the uglier ones and i wanted to suck up to him… he’s your friend. i want your friends to like me.” jimin raises a brow. “what about jin? isn’t he your favourite?” you shrug. “you’re my favourite.” jimin chuckles, not believing your truth. trying to convince him, you plead with your eyes. “and what’s this all about? like, what about him? he gave me the recipe. he told me your favourite cookie. said we’d be cute together so he wanted to help me out. god, are you actually this jealous? is it bad that i’m really into it?” jimin’s heart skips a beat. ”s-so… you have a crush on me or something?” you throw your head back, laughing at his cuteness. wrapping your arms around him, you tiptop and kiss his cheek. “depends. can you reconsider my D while i consider yours?”

#bts scenario #jimin scenario #jimin imagine #jimin fluff #jimin ta #bts teacher au #bts uni au #jimin uni au #jimin teacher #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts fluff

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