#also your ask inbox is closed!! Help!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uriwonu · 17 days ago

Text

pretty, pity, pity (jww)

He loudly clears his throat. “So… you’re like a camgirl?”

You wince. “I prefer streamer with benefits, but yeah.”

the one where reader is a camgirl and asks her roommate to fuck her on stream.

౨ৎ roommate!wonwoo x cam girl! mc ౨ৎ w.c: 4.9k ౨ৎ genre: pwp. minors do not interact. ౨ৎ warnings: explicit content🔞, wonwoo's a little too good at playing pretend, also he's a little mean in this (during sex), sex on livestream, use of sir (like three times), mingyu is reader's friend, uhh i think that's it? please tell me if there's anything i missed im not good at this. ౨ৎ date posted: june 07, 2025 ౨ৎ notes: title from the song novacane by frank ocean! this is also my first fic on tumblr so please be nice to me i will cry okay. i haven't written fic in ages 😭 please come to my blog and hang out i want to make friends !! masterlist | inbox

“Hey, Wonwoo-yah,” you softly call, knuckles taping gently against his half-open door.

Wonwoo looks up from his desk, pausing his game and slipping his headphones down to hang around his neck. His brows lift in that quiet way he always greets you — surprised but gentle, like he’s glad you’re there. The light from the hallway outlines your silhouette, casting a soft glow behind you.

You step in slowly, hands twisted nervously in the sleeves of your oversized sweater. It's one of his, though you’ll never admit that out loud. Your fingers fidget in the fabric as you search for the right words.

Wonwoo tilts his head, “What’s up?” he asks gently prodding you to speak whatever is making you nervous.

You open your mouth, close it again, then finally manage, “I… have kind of a weird favor to ask.” You finally admit as you plop yourself down on his bed, grabbing one of his pillows to wrap your arms around it, a makeshift shield.

He leans back in his chair. “Yes.”

You blink, face contorting in astonishment. “You don’t even know what it is.”

He smiles, soft and sincere. “Doesn’t matter. I’d do anything for you.”

That makes your stomach flip, and you have to look away for a second. “That’s… really sweet. But you might want to hear it first. I need you to…” You suck in a breath and rush it all out: “Pretend to be my boyfriend.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Sorry?” he says, blinking like he didn’t hear you right.

You force yourself to slow down, squeezing his pillow for comfort — and not that you'd ever admit it, take a massive whiff of his cologne, something that always seems to calm you. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Wonwoo stares for a second, face blank in that quietly-processing-everything way of his. You can tell he’s trying to decide whether this is a prank, a cry for help, or some unspoken code he’s supposed to understand.

You let out a frustrated sigh and flop down on his bed, clutching his pillow tighter. “Okay. Context. Remember how I told you the pay from the studio isn’t amazing? Like, I love it, but it’s not really paying all my bills?”

Wonwoo nods, clearly still confused.

“Well, the pay is actually, really bad, like I don't make enough to cover my portion of the rent—”

Wonwoo cuts you off, “If you need me to pay more I can, it's really no problem, I just got a huge bonus for the—”

“No!” This time you interrupt, “I've got it covered, that's the point. I was complaining to a friend, and well she told me about this website…” Your words trail off giving Wonwoo a look like he's meant to use that big brain of his and fill in the blanks.

“You have a sugar daddy?” He guesses. God, for someone so smart he is also completely clueless.

“I'm a sex worker.” You admit, staring at him, waiting for his reaction.

There’s a very long silence. You wait for the judgment. The discomfort. Anything.

Wonwoo looks like he's trying to remember how to breathe,

“Uhm,” His voice is startlingly high when he speaks, in a way you've never heard, he clears his throat, “So someone you uhm…” you can see the tips of his ears going red, “had business with is being a creep so you need me to scare them off.”

You can't help the burst of laughter that bubbles out—Wonwoo? Intimidate anyone?

“No, no.” You shake you head, laughter still on your lips, “Look, I, I don't fuck any one. I'm a streamer, people pay to watch me, fuck myself, that is.”

You can feel the heat flushing to your face but at least Wonwoo isn't in better shape, the red has creeped its ways from the tips of his ears down his neck and touches his cheeks.

He loudly clears his throat. “So… you’re like a camgirl?”

You wince. “I prefer streamer with benefits, but yeah.”

“And… the fake boyfriend?”

You sigh, “I like started this false narrative around this boyfriend I had, so people wouldn't get too lost in the fantasy, because my friend shared all types of horror stories about doing this. And I guess I kind of just get myself off and tell them stories about this imaginary boyfriend I don't have and well on my last stream for reaching a fuckton of subscribers I said I'd do a request to the highest donation and well… they want my nonexistent boyfriend to fuck me. And I just, I can't ask anyone else because I can't even imagine how they would take it, like can you imagine if I asked Jihoon? That would be so embarassing. God, or Mingyu? He'd say yes but I don't think he's capable of having sex without catching feeli—

“I’ll do it.”

You slow down from your spiral, startled. “Really?”

Wonwoo nods, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Of course.”

౨ৎ

A few days later, you're at the kitchen table, half-draped over it in shame, while Mingyu sits across from you absolutely losing his mind.

“You—” he chokes out between wheezes, “you asked Wonwoo to fuck you. On camera. In front of an audience. I—god, I’m gonna pass out. This is the greatest day of my life.”

You groan into your arms. “Stop saying it like that.”

“Like what? Like the truth? Like the guy you’ve been crushing on since forever is going to dick you down live in front of thousands of horny strangers?”

“It’s not like that—”

“It is exactly like that,” he howls. “You asked your crush to clap you like a goddamn cymbal monkey for money. What is this, fanfiction?”

You glare at him, snatching the spoon from your tea and brandishing it like a knife. “I swear to god, if you don’t shut up, I will FaceTime Yuna right now and tell her exactly why you broke up with her.”

Mingyu pales instantly, hands in the air. “Okay. Truce. Fuck, Noona. Harsh.”

You slump back into your seat, pressing your fingers to your temples. “This sucks.”

“Correction,” he says smugly, “this is your origin story. You’ve been in love with him since he "fixed" your wifi, and now you're gonna get railed on stream by him. It's the slowest burn friends-to-lovers-to-livestream-fuck arc I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s not romantic,” you mutter, glaring into your cup like it might drown you.

“Really?” Mingyu raises a brow. “So you’re telling me you're going to let the guy you’ve been mentally undressing since 2022 fill you up on camera, and then what — fist bump and call it a night?”

You don’t answer.

He grins. “That’s what I thought.”

“…Shut the fuck up, Mingyu.”

౨ৎ

Friday.

Wonwoo walks into your room just as you're adjusting the camera angle and checking the lighting. He's wearing a simple black shirt, chain at his neck, hair slightly mussed like he just rolled out of bed looking unfairly perfect.

You swallow.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, then nods toward the bed. “You ready?”

Your heart is pounding. “Only if you are.”

He steps closer, eyes flicking over your outfit—an oversized sweater, one of his, and shorts so short you can barely see them—his Adam’s apple bobs slightly as he swallows.

“You look nice,” he says.

You force a laugh. “Thanks. You do too.”

That gets a real smile out of him, and your stomach flips.

You go live, and watch as the first messages roll in.

Your usuals, the ones who know you don't like to go right into.

You let yourself forget that Wonwoo's there as you fall into another version of yourself—slipping into the role like a second skin. Your eyes flicker across the screen reading the message until you find one worth responding to

tigersgaze: god i needed this, work deadlines are killing me. hope your week was better than mine.

“Aww, I'm sorry, tiger. I hope stream will help you relax.” You say leaning back, with the practiced ease of someone who's been doing this for ages.

angelface666: is this finally the stream where we meet the elusive boyfriend? mommyplease: show us your perfect tits please mommy? cumslut44: i like your sweater baby singledad95: please show me your cunt, i miss it so bad.

“Hmm, my boyfriend is here. Maybe if you're good I'll let you meet him.” There's an unspoken request in your words, and the viewers seem to get it clearly. The donations start flowing in.

You spentd a few more quiet moments just talking with your viewers, letting more people come in.

You glance to your left. He’s just out of frame, waiting. Calm. Cool. You reach out and tug him into view.

You know exactly the vision he looks on screen—his hair falls in his face, just brushing against the frames of his glasses, the sharp jawline. He sits beside you on the bed, one hand possessively on your thigh.

You watch as the chats roll in.

angelface666: oh. he's pretty. justherefory/n: god i know his dick is big. tigersgaze: i bet you look so pretty on him.

You can’t help but laugh softly. “You're right tiger, I do look pretty on him.”You slide closer to him, deliberately swinging a leg over his lap, your hips settling just against his. “They’ve been very curious about you,” you say it like it's a confession between lovers and not like it's your best friend simply playing a role.

Wonwoo’s fingers flex on your thigh. “I don't share well.” And you know he's playing his part but the truth in the statement makes you giggle, Wonwoo's never been good at sharing.

You shift your hips slightly in his lap, just enough friction to draw a sharp inhale from him.

You lean in, brushing lips against Wonwoo’s ear again.

“Ready to give them a show, baby?”

His reply?

A hand around your throat and a dangerous smile.

Wonwoo leans in. You tilt your head. And then his lips meet yours. It’s not for show. It’s not practiced.

It’s soft. Deep. Slow. Like he’s wanted to do this for a long time. You’re too breathless to keep pretending.

Your thighs clench involuntarily.

Wonwoo pulls back just far enough to brush his nose against yours. “Color?”

You blink, dazed. “Green,” you breathe.

He hums in approval, a low sound that rumbles in his chest and vibrates through you. His hand slips lower, fingers tracing the hem of your shorts, and your pulse spikes.

You look back at the chat to distract yourself.

facefucker29: hurry up and fuck already dirtywhitetee: i knew you'd look pretty with a hand around your throat y/nsdirtylittleslut: i want him to make a mess of you mommyplease: that should be me mommy i'd treat your so well

You gasp a little when his hand sneaks beneath the fabric and settles possessively on your thigh. He doesn’t move further — not yet — but the message is clear: mine.

He leans in again, lips ghosting over your ear. “You’re doing so well for me,” he whispers, just loud enough for the mic to catch. “You want me to keep going?”

You nod. Then realize they can’t see that, and breathe out, “Yes. Please.”

His laugh is low and dark. “Then beg.”

The room spins. You forgot you asked for this. You forgot you wanted him to play rough — like the dominant boyfriend your viewers fantasized about. You forgot that Wonwoo could look at you like that — hooded gaze, parted lips, one hand gripping your thigh, the other loose around your neck like he owns every inch of you.

“I said—” his voice dips, something low that has you clenching around nothing, his grip on your throat just the slightest bit tighter, “—beg.”

You almost forget the camera is even there.

“Please, Wonwoo,” you whisper, and it’s more than a performance now. “Touch me. I need you to.”

He pats your thigh gently. “Good girl.”

The words hit you like a freight train. You whimper, openly this time.

Your eyes shift back to the chat again, trying not to get lost in him—a small part of you fears it's already too late.

singledad65: i knew you'd make such a pretty sub. what a pretty mess already

tigersgaze: fuck i'm so hard already. wanna see you choking on his cock baby.

mommyplease: mommy show us your tits please please please i'm so hard.

Wonwoo shifts slightly, demanding your attention, enough for his knee to knock your legs apart, spreading them just enough for the camera to catch view of the blooming wet spot on your cotton shorts.

You feel dizzy. You’re wet — obviously, hopelessly wet — and every part of you is pulsing, aching, desperate for more. You don’t even care about the stream anymore. You only care about him.

And then, without warning, he grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head, pushing you back onto the bed.

It’s not rough — not really. Just firm enough to make your whole body light up.

“Keep your hands right there,” he says, voice like velvet-wrapped steel. “Let me take care of you.”

You nod helplessly. “Yes, Won-.” you gulp stopping yourself from saying his name aloud. You never discussed if he was okay with his name being used on stream.

He kisses down your neck, slow and deliberate, pausing just above your collarbone as his fingers graze the curve of your waist.

You can't imagine how you must look on camera right now, the image of you splayed out just for him. You almost whimper at the thought, your hips rolling up to chase friction.

But before anything else can happen, he pauses.

Pulls back just slightly. Meets your eyes.

“This okay?” he asks, quietly this time. “You sure?”

Your heart clenches.

God. Even now, with your legs spread and your body shaking and the camera still rolling, he’s checking in.

“I’m sure,” you whisper. “I trust you.”

His smile is soft. And just like that, you're ruined all over again.

“Good.” Wonwoo kisses you again — deep, filthy, and completely in control.

Your hands twitch against the pillow beneath your head, instinct screaming at you to touch him, to grab his shoulders, tangle your fingers in his hair, something — but but the larger part of you is begging you to listen, to be rewarded for being a good girl.

“You stay right there,” he murmurs. “You take what I give you.”

You nod, panting. “Yes, W-sir.”

His free hand slides slowly beneath the hem of your sweater, palm splaying flat over your stomach. He doesn’t move higher. Not yet. He waits — lets the silence stretch until your back arches off the mattress and your hips squirm beneath him.

And then he laughs, low and mean. Almost cruel, if not for the affection in his eyes.

“You’re already so needy,” he taunts. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

His thumb brushes your bottom lip. You suck it in instinctively and the growl that slips from his throat makes your thighs clamp together.

He sees it. Of course he does.

"Open."

You do. Without question.

He pushes his thumb between your lips, slow and steady, eyes fixed on your face the whole time. You swirl your tongue around it, moaning as you suck, and the flash in his eyes makes your whole body light up like a warning sign.

He pulls his thumb free with a wet pop, then brings it down between your legs, slipping it just inside the waistband of your shorts — not enough to touch you, but enough to make your hips buck toward him.

"You're gonna be good and cum for me like this," he murmurs. "Still wearing your pretty little shorts. Think you can do that?"

“I—yeah,” you pant. “I can.”

“Good girl.”

The two words hit harder than any touch. Your whole body clenches at the sound of it. He starts to rub, slow firm circles over your panties, and your head drops back against the bed.

You’re so wet it’s humiliating. You can feel the damp fabric clinging to you, feel the friction sparking with every motion of his fingers — and you dig your nails into into your palms to keep yourself from reaching out for him.

You’re moaning now, high and choked, not even bothering to hold it in. You can’t. His voice, his hand, his weight on top of yo —it’s all too much.

“Keep your hands up,” he growls, and there’s no mistaking the real edge in his voice now. “You want to cum? You earn it.”

You nod, frantic. “Yes, yes, please—”

“You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

“Sir—!”

He presses harder. You cry out, thighs trembling, hips jerking uselessly as he works you faster. Your breathing is ragged. You’re so close it hurts.

And then—

He stops.

Your eyes fly open.

“Wonwoo—!” You cry out in shock, not even pausing to think about using his name, the nager clear in your tone.

“Shh,” he soothes, lips brushing your cheek. “You’ll get it. But first…”

His hands slip beneath your sweater, and this time he doesn't hesitate. He pushes it up, exposing your bare chest to the camera.

You had honestly forgotten about the stream—about the chat, and clearly they had noticed. Your eyes rake the comments:

singledad95: poor baby she's gone already dacefucker69: fuck i'm gonna cum. mommyplease: thank you daddy, look at mommy's perfect tits. can i cum please? tigersgaze: god i think she forgot about us, but i don't care you look so good like this baby

You gasp. You should feel embarrassed, but you’re so deep into this you don’t even care. You just want his hands back on you.

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares. His lips part slightly. There’s something reverent in the way his gaze drags across your skin.

Then he looks up — into the lens. Into the eyes of everyone watching.

“She’s mine,” he says, voice low and lethal. “You can look, but you don’t get to touch. Ever.”

Then he looks down again, and he smiles — slow, devastating, like a man who knows exactly how fucked you are.

“Now beg again, baby. Real pretty for the camera.”

You choke on your own breath.

“Please, Wonwoo,” you whisper. “I need to cum. I—I need you so bad, please, I’ll be good, I swear.”

His hand slips back between your legs.

And this time, he doesn’t stop.

You don’t know if you’re begging in words anymore or just making sounds — the kind of half-choked whines you never thought would leave your mouth outside of your most desperate dreams.

And he’s still touching you, still working tight, devastating circles against your clit through the soaked fabric of your panties. Your hips buck wildly beneath him, your legs trying to close, but his free hand pins your thigh open with ease.

“Don’t fight it,” he murmurs. “You wanted to cum so bad—so do it. Cum for me, just like this. Let them all watch how sweet you sound when I ruin you.”

You gasp, a high-pitched sob, and your fingers claw into the sheets beside your head, straining to obey his earlier command to keep your hands to yourself. You're on fire, every muscle drawn tight and twitching, a livewire underneath his touch.

“You're so wet," Wonwoo growls. "You really were gonna cum for me in your shorts like a little slut, huh?”

Your whimper is confirmation enough. Your body is spiraling out of your control now.

And then he leans in — mouth brushing your ear, voice so low it’s filthy.

“I'm not even inside you yet and you're already a fucking mess.”

Something in you snaps.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as your orgasm slams into you. Your thighs shake, your breath catches, and your entire body locks up beneath him as he works you through it, never slowing down — rubbing mercilessly until you’re twitching and gasping and trying to twist away from his hand.

But he doesn’t let you go.

“Oh no, no, baby,” he coos, voice suddenly cruel again, deceptively sweet. “You can cum more than that.”

“Wonwoo—” you plead, voice broken.

“You’re gonna cum again. For them,” he says, nodding toward the camera, “and for me.”

Your body is oversensitive now but his hand doesn’t stop. It changes. Slower now, deeper pressure, coaxing you through the aftershocks.

You try to speak. It’s just a stuttering, useless gasp of air.

“Come on,” he says gently now. “One more. Be good.”

And then he bites you, open mouth, right over your collarbone, and that's all it takes for you to fall apart.

The second orgasm crashes over you before you’re fully recovered from the first. It drags a low moan from your lips this time, ragged and raw, and you sob out his name like a prayer as your body convulses underneath him.

Your vision goes blurry for a second.

The only thing anchoring you is the press of his hand between your thighs and the sound of his voice — murmuring quiet praises you’re barely coherent enough to understand.

“Just like that. That’s my girl.”

And you're just coming down from the last waves of your orgasm when Wonwoo shifts you, until you're once again his lap, laying with your back against to his chest, your legs hooked on both sides of his thighs, he pushes your shorts down and off. He removes your sweater too, you're completely bare, body flushed and looking all too fucked out and he hasn't even fucked you yet. Exposed and bare on his till clothed form.

You don’t even notice the camera at first.

He turns his gaze to the camera and smiles. He smirks, really — eyes heavy-lidded, lazy with satisfaction.

You're too fucked out to really pay attention, he says, “If you want more, you know what to do.”

The dings of incoming donations flood the room, one after another until Wonwoo is seemingly satisfied.

He trails a finger up your thigh, playing with your dripping pussy. He looks at the chat for confirmation, you try to, too, eyes still unfocused from pleasure as his fingers tease your core.

“You're so dirty baby, I haven't even got my fingers in you yet and you're dripping.” A sharp whine leaves your lips at his words. His finger teases your opening, before pulling away to brush lightly against your abused clit.

"Tell me, what do you want? Do you want me to touch you here?" He pauses, his breath warm on your skin as he whispers near in your ear, "Or maybe somewhere else?"

His hand slowly moves upwards, caressing your stomach, then higher to cup one of your breasts. He squeezes softly, feeling the weight and shape of it in his palm, brushing a finger against a peaked nipple. “Use your words, baby.”

“Wonwoo,” You whine, rocking your hips softly, feeling his cock, thick and hard beneath you, you feel oh so empty, “Please.”

Wonwoo slowly pushes a finger inside you, he groans softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he continues to place gentle kisses along your neck and collarbone. "Mmm, so tight," he murmurs, slowly pumping his finger in and out, building a steady rhythm.

With his free hand, he reaches up to tangle his fingers in your hair, and pulls, hard enough to sting. He trails his lips over the sensitive skin, nipping and sucking gently as he works another finger into your slick heat, stretching you out.

"Does that feel good?" he asks, his voice rough with need. "Do you like having my fingers inside you, stretching you open?"

You nod, mouth open in a moan—you're so lost in your own world, in the pleasure, it's easy to forget that this is all for show, that this moment is just an act and Wonwoo isn't yours. But in this moment he is.

“More, please.” You whine rocking your hips, simultaneously grinding down on his clothed cock and against his fingers inside you.

His fingers fuck into you with a purpose until—“Ahhh” you moan, shaking, when he pushes against your g-spot with a determined persistence.

His eyes go sharp again as he stares down the camera, he's staking his claim. You're his.

“What do you think? Should I make her cum again like this?” He asks, a smirk on his lips as he stills his hand, you rock your hips shamelessly chasinging your release.

“Wonwoo please please please please please.” A litany of pleas leave your lips, tears nearly forming in your eyes. You're so close you can taste it.

“Don't ask me, baby.” He chuckles low and deep, unbelievably sexy. “Ask them.”

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the viewfinder, fucked out, a mess, eyes heavy lidded. You look debauched, and pretty.

“I want to cum,” Your voice is raw from all the moaning, your lips are plump from biting on them, you look the very essence of sin, “please.”

The chat explodes with tips and that seems to be enough for Wonwoo.

He kisses you like he owns you.

And maybe, in this moment, he does. The way he’s touching you says it — the way he’s holding your hips down, dragging his fingers up your thigh, says it. You can feel the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance — you hadn't even noticed he'd pulled it out of his sweatpants, and it’s not even in yet but your body is already begging.

“Ready?” he murmurs low against your throat, lips brushing your skin like a tease.

You nod, wordless. Already wrecked, slick and throbbing under him, your thighs trembling with every shallow breath.

“Words,” he reminds you, and you feel the tip press just slightly inside.

“Yes. Yes, Wonwoo, please.”

He groans like he’s been waiting to hear that all night. “Good girl.”

And then he pushes in.

Your gasp catches high in your throat, nails clawing at the sheets beneath you as he splits you open, inch by inch, his hips slow and deliberate. He’s thick, the stretch almost too much—almost, but then he bottoms out, presses flush against your body, and you swear you see white.

Wonwoo pauses there, buried inside you. His voice is a low growl when he speaks.

“Let them see you like this,” he says, staring down the camera with a smirk. “Stuffed full of me.”

You don’t even care that they’re watching. Not when he starts to move.

His thrusts are deep from the start, slow at first, but with that tight rhythm that makes your brain melt. One of his hand wraps around your throat, thumb resting just under your jaw, and the contact makes your whole body tense beneath him. The other steady on your hip, moving you like a ragdoll, his personal fuck toy as he lifts you up and down on his lap, meeting his every thrust.

“You like that?” he says, almost mockingly sweet. “Getting fucked in front of a live audience?”

“Wonwoo—” you gasp, already spiraling.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises. “Look at that. So tight. So fucking wet.”

Each thrust punches a little sound out of you, his cock hitting that sweet spot over and over, and when he pulls your hips down to meet his, the slick slap of skin echoes off the walls. You don't even try to stop the sounds falling from your lips anymore—you're beyond pride, beyond shame.

“Gonna cum already?” he teases, kissing along your jaw, grinding deep. “Not even halfway done with you, baby.”

“I—I can’t—” you whimper.

“Yes, you can,” he growls. “You’re gonna cum around my cock like a good girl.”

The orgasm builds fast, your body tight, trembling, every muscle locking up as you struggle to hold back. But his voice is right in your ear, coaxing you through it.

“Let them watch you fall apart for me,” he whispers. “Now. Be good. Cum.”

You shatter.

It’s too much. Your vision goes white, your body clamps tight around him, and your orgasm tears through you like a storm. You cry out, maybe even sob his name, but it’s all blurred in the wave of pleasure. You can’t think, can’t breathe.

Wonwoo groans low in his throat as you tighten around him, and it’s like a switch flips. His hips snap into yours harder now, faster. His grip on your throat tightens as he chases his own release.

“You feel too fucking good,” he hisses, fucking into you like he’s about to lose control. “So perfect. Gonna cum inside you. Fill you up. You want that?”

You nod frantically, barely coherent, and that’s all he needs.

He slams in once more and holds there, hips pressed hard against you as his body trembles, his breath catching in a deep, guttural groan. You feel the heat of it, the way he pulses inside you, and it only makes your body twitch around him again.

Silence.

Except for your ragged breathing, the camera still rolling in the background, and the sound of his heartbeat thudding against your chest.

Wonwoo finally exhales.

He gently eases out of you, hand trailing softly down your thigh, and your body gives a full-body twitch—overstimulated and still shaking.

Your eyes meet his, no teasing now. Just something real.

The camera light is still on.

He gives it a final look, then leans forward, and with the same casual dominance as before, clicks it off.

Then he looks back down at you. Smirking. But softer now.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

You nod.

But your voice is hoarse when you whisper back, “Yeah. But that didn’t feel fake.”

He just brushes the damp hair from your cheek and says, “Because it wasn’t.”

#svt fic #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #svt fanfic #svt fanfiction #svt scenario #svt fluff #svt angst #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #svt smut #seventeen smut

2K notes · View notes

backtothefanfiction · 4 months ago

Text

Joaquin Torres x Stark!Reader | Grumpy x Sunshine

Summary: Joaquin and Sam take a trip to the Stark cabin to get something fixed on Joaquin’s suit.

Warnings: fluff, grief, angst, banter

Word Count: 2.6k+

A/N: Okay so I this is based on an ask that came through my inbox. I did make a couple adjustments, but over all the bones are the same. Hope people enjoy!

Joaquin always felt awkward when Sam dragged him out to the Stark cabin for a fix on their suits. Although he had never met Tony Stark himself, the Avenger was someone everyone knew and his loss was still felt all around the world. But the Stark cabin always felt like the nucleus of that grief. More importantly, the shed out back.

"I'm gonna head in and say hey to Pepper," Sam said as they made their way side by side down the path through the woods that lead to the old hunting cabin that had been turned into the Stark's main home during the blip.

"Okay, well I'm gonna- head-" Joaquin's voice trailed off as Sam made a left and began to head up the stairs to the front door, suddenly leaving him on his own, "to- the- uh shed I guess," he muttered to himself much quieter, looking between the cabin and the shed where he knew you would be.

He hesitated at the door to the shed. He knew you'd be in there, you practically lived in there since your Dad died. He knew it was bad for you to isolate yourself the way you did, throwing yourself into continuing his work as a way to manage your grief, but he also felt like he was invading your sanctuary whenever he stopped by.

"YO, FEATHERS! YOU GONNA STAND OUT THERE ALL DAY OR YOU GONNA COME IN!" Your voice called out to him and he took that as his queue to enter.

"How did you know I was out there?" he asked as he strutted in, his eyes scanning the space as he sought you out amongst the converted lab you and your Dad had built together during the blip. The two of you hadn't been too close before then, your Mom wanting you to keep your distance from the man she had accidentally conceived a child with during a drunken one night stand in her 20s, but when she became a victim of Thanos and the blip, you had no choice but to seek refuge with him.

"Cameras," you said, lifting a tablet in the air that showed a video feed of the front door and Joaquin used it as a marker to find you amongst the mess.

"You know I don't have feathers right?" he said as he approached the bench where you were huddled over a piece of tech, a soldering iron in hand as you fused different components together.

"And you two could literally go to anyone else at Stark Industries to fix your suites and yet, here you are." you said sarcastically as you finally met his eyes.

Joaquin took one look at the dark circles under your eyes and his heart ached. He hated to see you like this. He had developed a crush on you the first time he had met you. It was a couple years ago now. He had been brought in with Sam and Bucky for the debrief with Colonel Rhodes after the incident with the flag smashers. You had stopped by to have dinner with your Father's old best friend, turning up in a red floral sun dress and denim jacket and he had instantly fallen in love- not that he'd ever had the balls to tell you.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” Joaquin stated, his voice soft, but you hated the tone of pity that accompanied it. It was coming up to the anniversary of your Father's death and your dreams had been plagued with flash backs to the battle where you had watched him lose his life.

“Well thanks Captain Obvious.” you snapped at him resentfully.

As long as he'd known you, Joaquin knew your usual jaded demeanour and hostility was due to your inability to deal with your grief over your Dad, but he also knew this extra spiciness to your tone was due to the aforementioned lack of sleep. “You know I was never actually a captain.” he said, trying to lighten the mood, but it didn't help.

“Okay, then Lieutenant Obvious. Better?” You sassed as you forcefully turned him around to get to the access panel on the back of the wings.

“Remind me again why you’ve got to do this with the suit on me.”

“It’s so you can fly away the second I’m done and stop- annoying-me,” you grunted as you popped the panel. “Uuuhgg, this is a mess. Who the hell has been fiddling with this thing?” you asked, taking in the hazard of wires and switch boards inside.

“The US governement.” Joaquin laughed.

“That sounds about right," you gritted as you took your soldering iron from before and began adjusting and readjusting wires.

As you worked, Joaquin took a moment to look around the room again. There were empty cups, mugs and plates discarded in different places as you had refuelled on the go. The sofa in the corner had a blanket haphazardly draped across it, implying that when you had been sleeping, it had been in here and not in the house with Pepper and your half sister Morgan. It broke his heart.

"Y/N-" he said your name tentatively, wanting to broach the subject and help, but also not wanting you to completely shut down and shut him out and hate him forever.

"Don't." you said, reading his mind without having to look directly at his face as you focused on your current job. "There," you sighed, "try that." you said as you closed the panel again and sat back.

Joaquin turned around, shifting in his suit, his arms lifting as he prepared to let loose the wings at his back. "NOT IN HERE MORON!" you quickly said, fear rippling through you at the thought of the nano tech wings unfolding at his back and smashing into the machinery set up around the two of you. "Take it outside."

"Uh, yeah. Right." Joaquin stuttered nervously as he realised his mistake.

You reluctantly followed him outside for his test flight and was met with the sight of your younger sister running down the steps of the cabin and over to you both. "JOAQUIN!" the young girl beamed, taking him in. She for sure had a little school girl crush on him. And to be fair, you couldn’t blame her, he was good looking, you just weren’t interested in anything right now.

"Hey Kiddo!" he said, embracing her as she ran into his arms to greet him with a hug. "Your sister's just fixed my wing up. Wanna see?"

"Yeah! Of course!" she beamed and the way she smiled made you see all of the same awe and wonder in her eyes as your Father used to have. The look sent a new wave of grief to hit you and you had to turn away from her for a moment to compose yourself. It was so quick you had hoped neither of them had noticed, but when you looked back to Joaquin, it was clear to you he had.

"Well, go on then. Get this over with so I can go back to work." you said, folding your arms across your chest as you encouraged him to let his wings free.

His eyes seemed to linger on you for a moment, trying to find a way to penetrate your armour before he finally conceded. There was a click and a rippling schwing of metal as his wings unfurled seamlessly at his back, shorter at first, but then he pressed another button in the gloves of his suit and the nanobots shifted and extended the wings down to make them larger.

"Oooooooh," Morgan cooed in wonder as she took them in.

"Come on then feathers, you gonna fly or what?" you encouraged him. He sighed in your direction, but ultimately activated his helmet and thrusters and dramatically blasted off from the floor at such a force you and Morgan had to steady yourselves as you were hit with a blast of air.

You both watched from the ground as he began to do a sweep around the property, Morgan running down to the lakes edge to watch him closer as he dipped down to run a finger through the water as he glided above it. You stood there for another minute, watching to make sure there weren't any more problems, but when he started to show off, doing barrel rolls through the air to impress Morgan, you knew it was your cue to return to your work.

“You know, you should be a lot nicer to him,” Pepper’s voice startled you. You hadn’t noticed her when you first came in, but at the sound of her voice, you quickly found her collecting up some of your plates and mugs, ready to take them back into the cabin.

You didn’t respond to her, your body turning back to your work as you pretended like she wasn’t there. You didn’t want the lecture right now. Although she had married your Father and had technically become your step mom, not to mention she was your half sister’s actual mother, Pepper had always felt more like an Aunt to you. She had all the same maternal energy and instincts towards you, but she was more approachable like a friend.

“You know, I invited them to stay for dinner,” she said as she came up beside you. “We’re having cheeseburgers, in honour of your Dad.” she continued, trying to get any sort of reaction out of you, but you weren’t biting. “You know,” she said, after another pause, deciding to change tac, “I think he likes you.”

“What makes you say that?” you said instinctively and you instantly kicked yourself for responding, but you could feel the swell of pride coming off Pepper as she realised she had gotten you to break.

“Because I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” she said wistfully, her eyes looking out the open doorway towards the sounds of her daughter’s giggles as she played with Joaquin. “And no matter how mean you are to him, he keeps coming back.”

“Is that what happened with you and my Dad?” You asked, fishing for information about the origins of their relationship.

“Not quite. Me and your Dad were… a little more complicated. Your dad was always a lone wolf, but he,” she said, her gaze moving to the man outside again, “he’s more of a golden retriever. He may be a bit goofy and over enthusiastic at times,” she said, before turning her attention back to you, “but he’s loyal. And he knows how to have fun,” she stressed as she nudged your shoulder. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about the way you needed to take a break from your Father’s legacy and just learn to let loose again.

You went back to giving her the silent treatment as she shifted the cups and plates in her hands again and went to leave. But as she reached the door, the small voice in the back of your head (you often liked to think was actually your Father living rent free in your brain), told you she was right.

“Pepper!” you called out to stop her. “Thanks.” you said, giving her the first smile that had graced your face all week. She didn’t say anything more back, just gave you an equally fond smile of acknowledgment. After all, Pepper Potts knew she had already said everything she needed to, to finally get you back out of the shed.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Nearly two hours later, you finally made your way up to the cabin for dinner. The sound of laughter and the sizzling sounds and smell of the burgers was almost overwhelming after spending a week alone out in the shed, but you quickly shook it off. Both Sam and Joaquin turned their heads at the sound of the door, but quickly became distracted again by your sister. She was stood in the middle of the living room giving a rather animated account to them of an incident that had happened to her at school. You couldn’t help but smile at the way she captivated them as you snuck through the house to the kitchen.

“Can I help with anything?” you quietly asked.

Pepper turned and gave you a smile. You watched as her eyes scanned you. You had changed since she had left you and even taken the time to run a brush through your hair. You could tell there was something hidden in her gaze, knew she was eager to tease you over it, but she quickly dropped it, not wanting to scare you off after finally being able to coax you back in.

“I’m almost done,” she said, “the burgers will just be another minute or two. Why don’t you lay up the table, ready for everyone.”

You didn’t give her a verbal response, instead headed straight to the draw to retrieve the cutlery and placemats. “Let me help you with that.” Joaquin’s voice came from behind you. You turned your head with a start. You hadn’t even heard him follow you in.

“Uh, thanks,” you said quietly as he took the handful of cutlery from you and followed you to the dining table.

You were both silent as you began to put down the placemats, Joaquin following close behind you and laying down the cutlery. When you had finished that, he followed you back to the kitchen to help carry in the salad and condiments, which you laid out in the middle of the table so people could help themselves.

“I’m sorry- uh I mean, earlier, this afternoon. Thank you for uh,” Your voice froze. Gosh this was awful. You desperately wanted to bridge the gap you had placed between the two of you, but you didn’t know how. “I’m sorry I was a dick!” you finally blurted out.

He let out a little snicker at your outburst, but quickly schooled his features, knowing you were trying to have a serious conversation. “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I know, it just… I know I can be a bit…”

“Hostile?” He said, filling in the word you were struggling with.

“Yeah. Hostile.” you repeated.

“It’s okay. I know you don’t mean it. It’s not easy losing a parent. It’s not easy losing anyone.” he corrected himself. “Grief makes us do odd things sometimes. Just know that you’re not alone. Okay?”

“Okay.” your repeated.

“I’m here for you. Come rain or shine. Night or day. You don’t have to do this on your own.”

“I know,” you sighed, your head hanging, almost in shame. “I’ve just… never really been that good at asking for…”

“Help?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“Look,” he said, and you watched at he reached into his back pocket for his wallet and pulled out a bit of paper with his number on it. You hated to think how long he’d had it sat in there just waiting for the right moment to give it to you. “This is my number. Call me whenever.”

You took it from him and couldn’t help the small smile that danced on your lips as your fingers played with the piece of paper you had been handed. “Even in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep?” you asked him, both earnestly, but with a hint of suggestiveness you hoped he’d pick up on.

He was silent a moment as he analysed you. Wanting to check and make sure you had meant to imply what you had. When he realised you had, he hung his head in an attempt to hide the blush in his cheeks and the shit eating grin that adorned his face. “Yeah,” he sighed, finally looking back up across the table at you, an entirely new kind of tension between you now, “especially then,” he said and you knew that was one offer of help you were never going to turn down.

#joaquin torres #joaquín torres #falcon #mcu #Joaquin Torres x stark!reader #Joaquin Torres x reader #fan fic #marvel #pepper Potts #mcu x stark!reader #Morgan stark #Sam Wilson

2K notes · View notes

snowande · 3 months ago

Text

My Senior

(Male x Male reader)

[Warning : no minors allowed , putting cum in drinks, somnophilia, just him being creepy]

Lumi's Note : Hi hi hi hope you enjoy this one! btw should I make a part two of this? If you guys want of course, also! If you want to request a fics or ask, my inbox is open! (Please I need to do something :') ).

Ethan was a freshman year on college in art major, on his walk to his class, Ethan catch of glimpse of you and you are a perfect man he ever seen, you were his senior.

You were kind and polite making his heart pumped, you were his muse, his sketch book is full of you, even a naked sketch, he has a art studio on his apartment and the canvas was all you. He was obsessed about you, his muse, his senior. he just want to touch you, to caress you... fucked you...

Ethan is now in class with his colleague, and the other seniors is here, helping his class with a project, and you were here too. Ethan's heart raced as he saw you walk into the classroom. He tried to focus on the project at hand, but his eyes kept drifting towards you.

He admired your every move, your every gesture. He imagined running his fingers through your hair, tracing the lines of your face, and feeling your body against his.

As the class went on, Ethan watched as you moved about the classroom, helping his classmates with their project. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, his heart racing with each glance.

His heart skipped a beat every time you bent over to explain something to his colleagues. He couldn't help but imagine you in that same position, but his hands gripping your hips. He knew he needed to calm down, but being this close to you was driving him crazy.

As you approached his table, Ethan's hands shook slightly as he tried to maintain his composure. He looked up at you with those doe eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. "S-senior... I was having some trouble with this part of the project. Could you... help me?"

You leaned over his desk to look at his work, giving him a view of your back. He swallowed hard as his mind went dirty. "Oh it's like this...." you murmured softly, your face close to his paper.

He could smell your cologne.

feel your breath.

He gets hard.

"Do you get it now?" You asked softly. He snap out from his mind when you ask him and nodded, "Yes, Senior... I got it." He watched you straighten up, his eyes dropping to your backside. He quickly averted his gaze.

As you walked away to help another colleague, Ethan let out a shaky breath. He quickly adjusted his pants under the desk, hoping no one noticed his erection. He tried to calm down, but your scent was still lingering on the air, driving him crazy. Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind.

Maybe... Maybe! he can ask you help him with his unfinished project at his apartment, Ethan hear that you always help your underclassmen, so it's worth a shot, just thinking about you... You! YOU in his apartment, just alone together.

"Senior..." he called out as when you go to his table again, "I'm struggling with this part actually... Do you have some time tomorrow evening? Would you... would you mind helping me at my apartment? I can make coffee..."

He watched your expression carefully, his heart pounding in his chest. "If it's not too much trouble, of course..." He said to you. The idea seemed risky but perfect, having you alone in his apartment was every part of his twisted fantasy. He tried to appear casual, shrugging lightly as if it was a routine request.

You seemed to consider his request for a moment, and then nodded slowly. "Sure, Ethan. I can come by your apartment after class tomorrow. Just text me the address and the time," you said calmly, writing down his project details with a pen. Ethan's heart raced with excitement and anticipation.

OH YOU! YOU!YOU! GOING TO HIS APARTMENT!!!

As the day wore on, Ethan found it impossible to concentrate. Every time you bent over to help another student, his mind would wander, and he'd have to adjust himself discreetly. He couldn't believe his luck, you were actually going to be in his apartment, alone with Him.

Finally, the class ended. Ethan quickly packed his things, his hands shaking with excitement. He sent you a text with his address and the time 6 PM sharp. He spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning his apartment, making sure everything was perfect for your arrival.

He anxiously paced his living room as the clock approached 6 PM. He had set out his unfinished project prominently, hiding the disturbing artwork of you behind closed doors. Glancing at his reflection in the hallway mirror, he smoothed his hair and straightened his shirt, wanting to look his best.

The there's a knock at the his door. His heart races as he opens it, trying to compose himself. "You're right on time," he says, stepping aside to let you in. As you enter, he closes the door behind you, locking it softly.

He leads you to the living room, gesturing towards the unfinished project spread out on the coffee table. "So, as I mentioned, I'm really struggling with this part," he says, his voice barely hiding his nervousness. He sits down next to you on the couch, intentionally sitting closer than necessary.

"Umm would... would you like something to drink?" he asks smoothly, already moving towards the kitchen. "I have water, soda and coffe..." he trails off. "ah can I have some coffee please? if you have any of course," you reply back to Ethan

At the kitchen he brew the coffee and grab a creamer for him but for you, he will give a special 'creamer' to your coffee. He quickly glances back to ensure you're not looking and takes a moment to adjust himself, unzipping his pants slightly. He put your mug under his cock, and he started to Stroke his cock slowly.

he started to go faster and silently groan, and thinking about you, under him moaning his name pathetically. he's almost there, his hand moving faster and faster as he can't wait you to drink his creation. He bites his lip to stifle a moan, his cock throbbing in his hand. Suddenly, he cums hard, shooting thick ropes of cum into your coffee mug.

He catches his breath, wiping his hand on his pants. He stirs the coffee mug thoroughly, making sure his cum is well mixed in. He carries the two mugs back to the living room, acting casual as he sits down next to you, handing you your coffee.

You take a sip of the coffee, oblivious to what he done to yout coffee. Ethan watches you intently, his eyes flickering with a dark satisfaction as he sees you drink his seed. He takes a sip of his own coffee, trying to act normal. "Is the coffee okay?"

You nod, taking another sip. "It's good, thanks," you say, completely unaware of his sickening act. He smiles, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction. "I'm glad you like it" he replies, his eyes never leaving your lips as you drink from the mug.

As the two of you work on the project, Ethan can't help but steal glances at you, his mind filled with dark and twisted thoughts. Every time you take a sip of your coffee, he feels a surge of power and satisfaction.

Ethan leans back, exhaling with relief as the project is finally completed. He glances at your now empty coffee mug with a secret smirk, proud of his subtle yet deviant success. "All done!" You says, Ethan look at you, his heart races with the thrill of what he's done.

He stands up, stretching his arms above his head,he walks over to the kitchen, rinsing out the coffee mugs. As he turns around, he catches you yawning and rubbing your eyes. "Tired?" "Yeah... I should go home now, but it's kinda late... , I don't know if the bus is out now" you reply.

Ethan's eyes light up at your words, barely concealing his delight. He glances at the clock, nodding slowly. "Actually, the last bus left over an hour ago. You're probably stuck here tonight,"

He walks back into the living room, leaning against the doorway"You can sleep in the guest room if you want. It's late, and it wouldn't be safe for you to try and find a ride home now."

"Ah really? I don't want to burden you..." you said to Ethan, He waves his hand dismissively, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. "It's no burden at all. Really." He moves closer to you, "Besides, I have extra blankets and pillows. The guest room's pretty comfortable."

You yawn again, your body feeling suddenly heavy and tired. "Okay... You're sure it's no trouble?" You ask sleepily. Ethan watches you intently, noting your tired movements. "No trouble at all," He assures you, his mind buzzing with dark thoughts.

Hours later, as silence settles over the darkened apartment, Ethan slowly opens the guest room door. He peers in at your sleeping form, a glint of madness in his eyes. Stealthily, he approaches the bed, hovering over you. His breathing grows heavy as he watches your chest rise and fall.

With a wicked smirk, Ethan gently moves the blanket covering you, exposing your sleeping form. His eyes roam hungrily over your body, pausing at your neck. He leans closer, inhaling your scent deeply, a shudder of twisted desire running through him knowing you're helplessly asleep.

Ethan's heart pounds in his chest as he watches your peaceful face, his twisted thoughts racing. Without a second thought, he leans down and presses his lips against yours in a gentle kiss. He backs away quickly, shocked at his own boldness, yet unable to wipe the satisfied smile from his face.

His eyes gleam with excitement as he leans back in, pressing his lips against yours once again. This time, his kiss is not as gentle as the first time. He kissed you passionately, his fingers trailing down your neck and collarbone, exploring your sleeping form with his greedy hands.

You unconsciously part your lips slightly, allowing him deeper access. He growls softly, taking full advantage and pushing his tongue inside your mouth. He kisses you deeply, his hands sliding down your sides, your hips. He hoovers over you.

Ethan breaks the kiss, panting heavily. His eyes are wild with lust and madness as he stares down at your helpless form. He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, a dark chuckle escaping him. "You taste even better than I imagined,"

His breath hitches as he releases himself from his pants, his large, hard length springing free. He wraps his fingers around himself tightly, stroking himself furiously as he looks down at your face. He bites his lip, stifling a groan as he pleasures himself to the sight of you. His eyes roam over your body, imagining all the things he wants to do to you. He increases his pace, his breathing growing ragged. He's close, so close... .

He's panting now, his face contorted with pleasure as he looks down at your sleeping form. He's so close to the edge, he can feel it building. He reaches out and touches your face gently with his free hand, his thumb brushing your cheek as he jerks off faster.

"Fuck!" He silently curse, His finger traces your lips gently as he finally reaches his release, hot liquid spurting out onto your sleeping face. He pants heavily, his chest heaving as he looks down at his handiwork, his seed dripping down your cheeks and lips.

He watches you for a moment longer, his eyes wide with amazement and satisfaction, before finally stuffing himself back into his pants. He hesitates for a moment, debating whether to wipe the mess off your face or not.

With a heavy sigh of reluctance, Ethan pulls a handheld towel from his pocket and gently dabs at your face, cleaning off the evidence of his dark deed. He takes care not to wake you, his movements precise yet reluctant. "Such a shame," he murmurs under his breath.

He watches you for a moment longer, his eyes taking in every inch of your sleeping face. He leans down one last time, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before backing away and disappearing into the shadows. "Until next time," he whispers before slipping out of the room and disappearing into the night.

In the morning you woke up, sleeping well in the guest room, your stomach growls in hungry for food, you slowly walk out of the room and go to the kitchen and see Ethan makes breakfast. As you enter the kitchen, you're greeted by the smell of fresh coffee and the sizzle of bacon. Ethan is busy preparing breakfast, humming softly to himself.

He turns to greet you with a warm smile, his eyes lingering on your face for a moment longer than necessary. After eating breakfast you ask Ethan to join you go to college together, just the two of you.

"Sure," Ethan grins, grabbing his bag. He watches you intently as you get ready, his eyes darkening slightly as you bend over to tie your shoes, giving him a perfect view of your backside. He swallows hard. adjusting himself. calm himself and he walks with you to the bus.

During the bus ride, Ethan keeps the conversation light and engaging. He asks about your classes, your interests, and even shares some of his own experiences as a senior. His charm is on full display, making you feel comfortable and at ease.

As you arrive at college, Ethan walks you to your first class, his hand lightly touching your back. He waits until you're inside before turning to leave, but not before glancing back at you with a smile that sends a shiver down your spine. "See you later,"

He watches as you disappear into the classroom, his heart fluttering in his chest. He can't believe how close he is to having you all to himself. He spends the day attending his classes, but his mind is preoccupied with thoughts of you.

Maybe in his next plan he'll have you stay permanently in his apartment. And be his finally. until next time now... My dear senior...

This picture is from Pinterest uzumaki Naruto

Tags list : @nymphea0

#yandere #yandere male #yandere fic #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere male x male reader #yandere x male reader #yandere x male darling #bottom male reader #x bottom male reader #male reader #male x male reader #male yandere x male reader #x male reader #LumiFics♡

1K notes · View notes

inthehexcore · 7 months ago

Text

pages and books

summary: The quiet Enforcer stops by your quiet library. Multiple times.

content: STEB! librarian!reader gets sick, fluff, can't think of much else! probably ooc

wordcount: 2.397

a/n: i love Steb so much... inbox/requests open!

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The sun in Piltover shone as bright as it always did. It lit up the entire library, and you could not help but hum as you pushed the cart of books around. The warmth of the rays only made the building look more beautiful, something which you were not aware was even possible.

The high ceilings with curved windows and hand-painted images, detailed golden pillars, royal blue seats with dark wooden tables. Not all of your fellow students liked the library. To be fair, there were tons of other stunning places all around Piltover, but yours was here.

You spent so much time surrounded by the books that you just ended up taking a side job as the assistant. It meant pouring coffee and putting back books, but it also meant reading when everything was cleaned and drinking the sweet tea that was technically only meant for the professors.

With the library not being the most popular spot, it also allowed you to brush up on skills and even pick up new things to learn. The history of Piltover, Professor Heimerdinger's autobiography, varieties of plants, but most recently, you found a book about sign language. It was interesting for sure. Every time you put the loaned books back in their spot, another one got added to the stack of other books that you still wanted to read during your breaks.

So, as per usual, you sat at the window near the counter. Even with it being your break, you still liked to be close to your workspace, just in case someone came in.

A steaming cup of tea stood beside your book as you flipped through the pages, admiring the photographs of Piltover's 'ten most beautiful buildings', occasionally stirring the cup of tea and taking a sip out of it. Stuck in your own world, though your gaze moved to outside the window ever so often. From here, you could see the main square - the market, Enforcers, students.

The watch around your wrist kept ticking away, reminding you that your break had already stopped a few minutes ago. A neat bookmark got placed between the pages of the book as you turned around, nearly dropping the hot beverage that you were holding.

Right in front of you stood a tall Enforcer. His face was blank and his hands were clasped behind his back. You were nearly jealous of his posture - you must have looked idiotic with how hunched over you were sitting.

"Oh, Officer! I hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long."

The man slowly shook his head, his eyes set on you as you moved back to the counter, placing the book that you were reading back on its space. He took a step closer, his arms still behind him.

"What can I help you with today?"

He held out his hand, a small note hidden in the grip of his glove. A short list with some of the most specific books you had seen in a while. Even though you did not dare to ask him why he needed all of these, you could not help but try to theorize.

Maybe he was working on a weapon, or what if he went off into the wilderness and build a house out of nothing but sticks and mud?

"Ha, this might take me a moment to find. Would you like some tea, Officer?"

Quietly, he stared at you for a moment before shaking his head. He just had his break - after bringing these books to Commander Kiramman, his day was basically over. Patrol for an hour, and then it was time for him to relax. Finally away from all the loud sounds of the city. But being in the empty library was not unwelcome, either.

"I will be back in a sec!"

It was much longer than a sec.

With every minute, you got more and more anxious. How could you keep an Enforcer waiting for this long? There was no one in the entire library! Your footsteps sounded heavy and you felt like every breath you took was one too loud. But, after fifteen minutes and lots of going up and down ladders, you finally found all the books on his list.

"And... Phew! This should be all," you wiped your hands, "Do you need help bringing it to... your office?"

Silently, the Enforcer shook his head again, reaching for the stack of thick books as he held them in his hands.

"Oh! What name can I put these on? That way I can remember, for next week!"

Next week? Oh, to return the books.

The man looked around him for a moment before his eyes fell on the small notebook next to you. He glanced at it as he looked back at you. You furrowed your eyebrows for a moment before going 'aha!', reaching for your notebook as you opened it on a blank page, handing him your pen. If you could have, you would have chuckled. A strong officer writing in your sparkly notebook with a neon-coloured gel pen.

He put the pen back down, nodding before taking one step back.

"Thank you so much. Till next time, Officer Steb."

Even with the interaction being a little under a week ago, you still had not moved on from it. His intense, blue gaze, his straight and confident posture. His handwriting even - it was immortalized in your notebook.

You found yourself looking for him through the windows, and while walking through the square, you would keep an eye out for his tall figure. 'He still has two days to return the books,' you thought to yourself. Most people even turned their books in late. But he was an Enforcer, so you highly doubted that he would.

Humming again as you placed the books back on the shelves, your cart now empty. Except for a few students in the far corner of the library, you were all on your own. You didn't mind - it left you with some time to finish up the essay that was due for tomorrow. So, with a sigh, you pushed the cart back to the counter.

There, in front of the small spot where you always sat, stood Officer Steb. It seemed to immediately lift your spririts as the cart suddenly felt much lighter.

"Officer Steb!"

His ears slightly moved back a little, not expecting your voice to suddenly pop up, but as he saw you, he gave you a nod.

"And, how did you like the books?"

He only nodded in return, placing the stack of books down on the counter. All of them had been put in alphabetical order - he must be an organized man. You pulled up his page, making sure that you had all the correct books as you nodded, scribbling down all the extra information before handing him the handwritten receipt.

"Could I do anything else for you, Officer?"

Steb was quiet - he was quiet often times. Out of his pocket, he fished another note with a few more books on it. The Undercity's History, a cookbook, 'Haircutting for Dummies!', and some more titles. You glanced up at him, trying hard not to let chuckles escape from you.

"Are these… All for you?"

You spot the tiniest shape of a smile as he shook his head. He tapped his Enforcer badge as you nodded, an 'oooh' as you looked back at the list.

"Be right back!"

This time, you found the books much faster. Not that Steb minded if you took a while - he enjoyed the library. He liked the books, the smells, the sun - you. Maddie offered to bring all the loaned books back to the library, but by the time she could even think about standing up, Steb was already out the door. The rest of the Enforcers shrugged it off as the man just wanting to spend some quiet time on their own. It was what he did.

But you.

How… Happy you always were. Cheery, but not overwhelmingly so. A bright flash of the sun through dark clouds. A stark contrast to his stoic demeanour, fire and water.

"There we go," you hummed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as you pushed the cart back to the desk, "Can I put it under Officer Steb again?"

Hearing his name coming from you felt new, refreshing. He nodded, reaching over for the stack.

"Well, if you use the haircut book, let me know."

Steb snorted with a smile before clearing his throat, quickly standing back up straight before nodding. He was looking forward to next week.

For months, he came every single Tuesday, always around the same time. It must be during his break, or during his patrol. Only once had someone else shown up, Officer Nolan, as she introduced herself. She was nice and very talkative, so the two of you spent quite some time at the desk, chatting away. The week after that, Steb had written something extra on a note that he had stuck in a book.

'Sorry for Officer Nolan'

It had made you laugh.

Every week, the list of books would be different from the one before. Not only that, but the topics of said books could not be further apart. It was after a month of wondering that Steb answered the burning question that you had in mind. 'They are for the entire squad. They make a list, I get the books.' It made sense. So now, every week, you would try to guess which of the Enforcers would be reading which book. A fun little game, and thankfully Officer Steb would humour you, nodding or shaking his head depending on if your guess was right.

Over time, it felt like a friendship. More details of Steb came to the surface, and he would ask about your day. Favorite foods, hobbies, things you both hated. Officer Steb did not speak much, but he was comforting company. If bringing the book was his last task of the day, then he would stay at the library for a moment, starting the book that was meant for him. The last few times, you also placed a cup of tea next to him when he wasn't looking. It was like a challenge to see if he noticed you sneaking up on him - he did, but he would have never told you.

Today had been a bad day.

You slipped on your way to the library, there was a group of loud kids in the library, your head was pounding and you were not sure if you were feeling hot or cold. With a pack of tissues in your hand, you sniffed, squeezing your eyes shut.

The large windows and bright sun felt like a curse as you wished for nothing more than it to be dark outside. At least the group of rowdy teenagers had finally left.

When you heard the door open again, you nearly groaned in annoyance. If they returned, then you would have had no other choice but to hide in the back, away from the noise.

But after the creaking of the door, there was no other noise. You raised an eyebrow before lifting your head out of your hands, being met with no one other than Officer Steb.

"Oh, Officer Steb," you sniffed, your voice hoarse and odd-sounding due to your blocked nose, "I nearly forgot the date."

While usually dressed in his Enforcer uniform, he now wore something much more casual. You had never seen him outside of the dark blue and gold - the black and dark green suited him. Without his beret or helmet on, you could also see his hair. You wondered if he used the 'Haircutting for Dummies' book for it all those months ago. According to Steb, the book was not for him. His eyebrows creased as he scanned you, squinting his eyes.

"Yeah, not the best day," you shrugged, wiping your hand on your shirt, "But there is no one else to run the library, so… Me it is."

He quietly stared at you for another moment before gesturing to your notepad again. The sparkly cover held many pages of his handwriting - so many that it might as well have been his. You silently hand it over, your head aching with every move you make.

'Stay here, be right back'.

Steb turned on his heels, walking right down the hall and out the door. You only raised an eyebrow before looking over the stack of books and writing down all the information you needed. After what felt like an eternity, you finally sat back down in your chair, your fingers rubbing at your temples.

The Enforcer came back not long after, a small bag in his left hand. He placed it on the counter - as quietly as he could - which made you look back up.

"You're free."

Steb's voice was so different from what you imagined.

"I-" you frowned, "Excuse me, Officer Steb? I'm not sure what you mean."

"Just Steb is fine," he looked away, "Commander Kiramman has contacted the owner of the library, your boss, and you have permission to leave now."

How had he done that?

Your bag was still packed, resting against the side of the counter, almost jumping in excitement that you got to go home.

"You are sick, yes?"

"I mean… Sadly so, I'm guessing."

He nodded, slowly reaching out to you before slightly raising an eyebrow. You breathed in, nodding as his hand made contact with your forehead. Cold, so cold. Your eyes almost closed at the sensation, the feeling of his cool fingers nice against your burning face.

Sadly, the moment ended all too soon as Steb reached into the small bag, pulling out an assortment of different painkillers and medicine.

"Once a day," he held up one of the packets, "Maximum of three a day, six hours inbetween."

He had gone out to get you medicine? You nearly wanted to start crying, your tired eyes and heavy limbs glad that they would almost be able to rest. Not to mention the bursting and pounding of your heart. Despite feeling horrible, a smile still formed on your face.

"I… Steb, thank you. I can't believe this."

He took your bag off the ground, waiting for you to lock everything up before exiting the library, side by side.

"Thank you again," you said, though it came out not nearly as loud as you thought it would have.

"Have to take care of my favourite librarian," his comment nearly made you fall over, though he would not have let that happen, "I bring you home, you take the medicine, and I see you next week?"

#arcane imagines #arcane #arcane fics #arcane x reader #steb #steb arcane #steb x reader #steb fics #steb imagine

2K notes · View notes

robbysreaders · 21 days ago

Text

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader word count: 2.1k notes: Another part to ex!reader and babydaddy!jack thanks to @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange's reply to part 3! Fits before the Prequel!

Jack Abbot does not want to be interviewed.

He’s made that clear to everyone — grumbling to Gloria, threatening Robby, muttering under his breath about “puff pieces” and “PR bullshit.” But he shows up anyway. Apparently, losing rock-paper-scissors and the thought of Gloria owing him a favor are enough to get him in the room.

He’s already five minutes late when he walks into the break room at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, barely glancing your way.

“Dr. Abbot?” you ask, voice a little too bright.

He doesn’t answer right away — just finishes pouring his coffee. Then, deadpan: “That’s what the name tag says.”

You blink. Smile tight. Off to a great start.

You introduce yourself, give a quick rundown of the piece — community health spotlight, frontline ER coverage, equity in urban hospital settings.

“Yeah, I read the email,” he says, finally turning. He looks like hell: scrubs wrinkled, hair a mess, a twitching vein in his temple that suggests he’s running purely on caffeine and spite. But his eyes — sharp and unexpectedly curious — hold on you.

“Let’s get started?”

You pull out your notes and recorder, settling into the seat across from him.

“This is for a piece on how ER staff are adapting to systemic constraints in—”

He lifts a hand. “Please don’t say ‘in these trying times.’”

You smirk, hitting record.

Thirty-five minutes later, your recorder is full. Your notes are chaotic. And your opinion of Dr. Jack Abbot… has evolved.

He’s still kind of a dick. But he’s compelling — sharp, honest, surprisingly self-aware. He talks with his hands, voice softening when he mentions residents by name. There’s a story there. Probably a few. But every time you try to dig, he deflects with dry humor and pointed looks that feel more teasing than defensive.

You’re packing up when he clears his throat.

“So,” he says, “you get what you need?”

“Think so,” you reply. “Unless you want to give me a stirring quote about resilience. Maybe something involving a phoenix.”

He leans back, arms folded. “How about: ‘Most days I want to punch a wall, but we’re out of budget for drywall repair.’”

You laugh. “Wow. Poetry.”

“You asked.”

You hesitate. “Honestly, I expected you to be more…”

“Hostile?”

“I was going to say ‘buttoned-up.’ But sure. Hostile works.”

He smirks. “If you wanted polished, you should’ve interviewed Robby. But I lost rock-paper-scissors.”

“Lucky me.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, voice low, “I think I’m the one whose luck is shifting.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder, suddenly aware of how close he still is.

“Well… thanks for the time. I know your shift was long.”

“Mm.” He doesn’t commit to gratitude — just watches you.

You hesitate. Then — against instinct — you reach into your bag and pull out a card. “Here’s my email. Just in case anything else comes to mind.”

He takes it, thumb brushing over the raised print. “Of course. Let me show you out.”

Two days later, Jack is in a mood.

“Who pissed in his Wheaties this morning?” a nurse mutters.

“He’s been like that since that hot journalist left,” another chimes in.

“Maybe he got rejected.”

“I didn’t get rejected,” Jack snaps, startling them. “I’m just a sleep-deprived idiot who washed her damn business card with my scrubs.”

“Oh my God,” someone groans. “She’s a journalist. Just look her up and make up a reason to email. Jesus.”

Your inbox pings.

Subject: Quote Clarification From: [email protected] I meant “systemic negligence” not “strategic indifference” in that part about state funding. Also, I never said “heroic.” Ever. Want to make that crystal clear. If you want to double-check the phrasing, I know a place with good fries and strong drinks. -Abbot

You stare at it. Then reread. Is he… asking you out?

God help you, you kind of hope he is.

You reply:

Sure. As long as you don’t try to rewrite your quotes mid-pint.

The bar is dim, divey, absolutely his pick — confirmed when the bartender greets him with, “You back already?” and your drinks hit the table before you sit down.

“You have a tab here?” you ask.

“I had a chair with my name on it,” he says. “Until they caught me revising journal drafts on my days off.”

You laugh. “Work-life balance going well, I see.”

“The fries help.”

He’s in jeans and a black T-shirt. Still rumpled, but clearly intentional. Hair pushed back, eyes clear. The difference is subtle. But it’s there.

“So,” he says. “Am I worse in print than in person?”

“Oh, definitely,” you tease. “But very quotable.”

“That a line you use on all your sources?”

“Only the ones who share their fries.”

You both reach for the same one. Fingers brush. His breath hitches.

The air shifts.

You fall into easy rhythm. He tells stories — the worst shift, the weirdest patient, the quiet things that don’t make the cut but still shape the job. You tell him about being locked in a janitor’s closet at a mayoral debate. By the time you finish your drinks, you’re both laughing more than talking.

Your knees knock under the table.

He glances down. Then up. “So… is this part of the fact-checking process?”

You tilt your head. “Would you prefer it was?”

“Depends,” he murmurs. “You gonna quote what I say next?”

You pause. Then: “Not unless it’s good.”

His eyes stay on you. Then he leans in.

“How about this?”

The kiss is quiet at first. Soft. Testing. But deepens fast — hands in your hair, thumb at your jaw, like he’s been thinking about this since the interview and just needed the excuse.

When he trails down your neck, you forget your name.

You’re still catching your breath when he mutters, “Too forward to ask if you want to get out of here?”

“Yes,” you say. “But I like forward.”

He grins, hand low on your back. “Fifteen minutes this way. If you don’t mind walking.”

“Lead the way.”

You wake up slowly — not to an alarm, but to the quiet shift of weight beside you. Sheets tangled, room faintly lit by the early gray of morning. For a moment, you don’t move. Just listen.

Jack’s already awake. You can feel it in the way his breath has steadied, his body warm and solid beside yours, one hand resting lightly at your waist like he forgot to move it.

Your voice is quiet. “You always up this early?”

“I don’t sleep well. Occupational hazard,” he murmurs.

You turn toward him. He’s propped on one elbow, hair a mess, shirtless, gaze already on you. There’s something cautious in it — like he doesn’t want to push too hard, too soon.

“You okay?” you ask.

He nods. “Yeah. You?”

“I think so.” A beat. “Little disappointed you didn’t try to sneak out. Would’ve made things easier.”

He smirks. “I thought about it. But then I realized, this is my house and I didn’t have anywhere to sneak off to.”

Your heart drops a bit “Oh shit, I spent the night. I don’t spend the night.” You try to get out of bed but his arm has you lightly locked in.

He watches your expression, then adds, voice lower, “I’m not in a rush. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

You search his face. “So what is this then?”

He shrugs, but it’s not dismissive. “Something I haven’t stopped thinking about since the break room.”

You huff a laugh. “God. I really thought you hated me.”

“I did,” he says. “For like the first two minutes. And then I realized you were just really fucking good at your job.”

You smile. “You know this is probably a bad idea, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, gaze lingering on your lips. “But not the worst one I’ve ever had.”

There’s a stillness between you. Not awkward. Just quiet.

From then on, you’re basically attached at the hip. Any free moment either of you has is spent together—or texting, though Jack is, hands down, the worst texter you've ever met. Half the time it’s just one-word replies. Sometimes emojis that don’t make sense. Once, a photo of a traffic cone with no context. But you find it weirdly charming.

Two months in, he invites you to grab breakfast after one of his night shifts. “Swing by the hospital,” he says. “We can walk from there. Just let them know you’re here for me, they’ll let you in.”

You’re nervous walking in. You’ve been here before, obviously—it’s how you met Jack—but it feels different now. Like meeting the family. And you haven’t even talked about labels.

But the moment he spots you, his whole face lights up. He cuts across the nurse’s station toward you without hesitation.

“Hi,” he says, giving you a quick kiss. “You haven’t been waiting long, have you?”

“No, no,” you murmur, caught off guard by the PDA, especially in his workplace. “Just got here.”

“Perfect.” He glances at a chart in his hand. “I just need to hand this off and then we’re good to go. Mind sitting here for a sec?”

He leads you to his desk, and it’s all so… Jack. A photo of him and a few Army buddies, a coffee-stained mug with a jackrabbit on it, a bumper sticker that reads Honk if you love amputees, and—tucked behind his monitor—your article, folded up like something worth saving.

You don’t even get a chance to sit fully before a couple of nurses wander over.

“That article you wrote? Incredible,” one of them says. “You really captured the systemic issues. We appreciate you shining a light on it in such a visible way.”

“Oh—it was an honor to be trusted with the story,” you reply, a little flustered. “You all do the hard work. I just hope it helps spark something.”

You feel Jack behind you before you hear him.

“You two done harassing my girl?” he teases, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You don’t miss the look exchanged between the nurses before they excuse themselves, already whispering as they disappear down the hall.

“Alright,” he says, tilting his head toward the exit. “Ready to go?”

“What, no grand tour? You were so rude the first time I was here—I didn’t get one then.”

He smirks. “Fine, whatever. Let me show you around.”

He takes you on a brisk loop, introducing you to a few of the names you've heard in passing—Santos, Samira, the guy who once threw out his back trying to do a TikTok challenge. Then a voice rings out:

“Abbot, leave. You were off fifteen minutes ago. Get out.”

You turn to see Robby, grinning, arms crossed.

Jack sighs. “Just showing a guest around before heading to the diner.”

“Ohhh,” Robby says, eyes narrowing.

“This is the Robby?” you ask, holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for being so good at rock-paper-scissors. I wouldn't have met this guy without you.”

Robby laughs. “Ah, the journalist. It’s about time. Great article, by the way.”

“Had some great sources,” you reply.

You leave the hospital together, walking a few blocks to a small diner. Once you’re settled in a booth and sipping coffee, you nudge his knee under the table.

“Demoted from ‘your girl’ to ‘a guest’ in a matter of minutes. Think I failed the family meet-and-greet.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, I’ve been panicking about that for the last twenty minutes. I froze. First time felt natural… saying it again, in front of Robby, just felt…presumptuous.”

“I didn’t mind,” you say, voice a little quiet. “We haven’t talked about it, but… I didn’t mind. I’m not seeing anyone else. Just… so you know.”

He looks at you, serious now. “Yeah. Me neither.”

You smile, tentative. “Good to know. I’m not really planning on seeing anyone else.”

“I sure hope not,” he says, then falters. “I, uh… don’t really want to keep doing this unless we’re exclusive. But if that’s not what you’re looking for, I—”

“Jack,” you interrupt, amused. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

He groans again. “You don’t have to make it sound like we’re in third grade.”

“Well, you’re kind of acting like it.”

“Okay, yes,” he says, finally meeting your eyes with a grin. “I’m asking. Officially. Want to be my girlfriend?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Hmmm. Depends. Will you start texting like a normal person?”

“Not a chance.”

“Then yes,” you say. “But only because you’re cute.”

He laughs, reaches across the table to tangle his fingers with yours. “Deal.”

And just like that—without fireworks, without ceremony—you’re his. And he’s yours.

#jack abbot #jack abbott #jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #the pitt drabble #the pitt imagine #dr. abbot #dr. abbot x reader #dr. abbott #dr. jack abbot #dr. jack abbott #dr. jack abbot x reader #dr. jack abbot x you #p attempts to start writing #ex!reader and babydaddy!jack

441 notes · View notes

elikajinnie · 6 months ago

Note

hello!! may i request a drabble or a spin off from forbidden taste!heeseung with his reaction or thoughts after taking the antidote for amortentia? and also how he’s desperate to find y/n and why she’s avoiding him for days? 🤭 thank you!! i luv a desperate man 😩

a/n: you may :3 i LOVED seeing this in my inbox when i woke up! And we do all indeed love a desperate man ;)

Warnings: ehm, a desperate man basically?

The fic in question --> click here

Heeseung was angry—no, he was livid. The moment the effects of the Amortentia wore off, his mind cleared like a storm breaking apart, and the first thing he thought of was you. Where were you? Why weren’t you there? He had searched and searched, every corridor and corner he could think of, but you were nowhere to be found.

It didn’t help that Yoonhee had been trailing after him, clinging to his arm, tears streaming down her face as she apologized profusely. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far! It was stupid—I know it was stupid, Heeseung, I’m so sorry!”

But Heeseung knew better. He could see right through her feigned remorse. The look in her eyes told him she wasn’t sorry for what she did—she was sorry she got caught. His patience, already paper-thin, finally snapped. He shoved her off and hissed, “Stay away from me,” before marching straight to a professor and reporting her. He didn’t wait to see the consequences unfold; he couldn’t care less. There were far more important things to deal with.

Like finding you.

You, who had been conspicuously absent through it all. You, who he hadn’t seen since after the Amortentia’s haze vanished. A knot of worry had formed in his chest, twisting tighter with every second that passed without an answer. He stormed into the courtyard, seeking out your housemates with frantic determination.

“Where is she?” he demanded, his voice sharp enough to startle a group of first-years nearby. “Where is she?!”

One of your friends finally stepped forward, hesitant but honest. “She’s... she’s been in bed all day. Said she wasn’t feeling well.”

The words hit him like a Bludger to the chest. Guilt and heartbreak washed over him in waves, drowning out the last remnants of anger. You had been suffering alone, likely because of him—because of what had happened, because of everything Yoonhee had done.

He tried everything—everything—to get through to you. He sent letters, each one carefully written, pouring his heart onto the parchment. He sent messages through your housemates, through your friends, hoping they might convince you to talk to him. Every time he saw a friend of yours, he’d stop them, desperate for any sliver of news.

“How is she? Did she eat today?” he’d ask, his voice laced with worry. “Did she sleep? Is she feeling any better?”

It was always the small things—tiny gestures—to show he cared. That he was thinking about you. That he was sorry. He wanted you to know that it had all been the Amortentia, that none of it had been real. None of it had been his choice. And above all, he wanted you to know that he never, ever meant to hurt you.

But no matter how hard he tried, you remained locked away. Your absence stretched between you like an invisible wall, keeping him out. You weren’t just avoiding him—you were avoiding everyone. And it hurt.

It hurt because he couldn’t see you. He couldn’t talk to you. He couldn’t hold you in his arms and kiss away the pain, couldn’t wipe the tears from your cheeks or make all your worries disappear. He wanted to tell you, face-to-face, how much you meant to him, how much he hated himself for letting this happen. But he couldn’t do any of that—not while you stayed hidden away in your common room, unreachable.

So, he waited. He stayed close, always looking for a chance, a moment, a sign. But until then, he would keep trying, keep hoping, because losing you was something he couldn’t bear.

And he did keep trying. Every day, he checked the places you’d usually be—the library where you’d bury yourself in books, the quiet corner of the courtyard where you’d sit when you needed to think, even the kitchens, where you’d sometimes sneak a late-night snack.

But you weren’t there. You weren’t anywhere.

The less he saw of you, the less he heard of you, the more desperate he grew. His patience—what little he had left—was wearing thin. He couldn’t focus in class, couldn’t eat properly, couldn’t sleep without his thoughts drifting back to you. He wanted—no, needed—to see you. To hear your voice, to know that you were okay, that you didn’t hate him. The thought of you hating him gnawed at his heart like a cruel curse.

He tried to remind himself to give you time, to respect the space you clearly needed. But it was hard. Too hard. Every day that passed felt like another piece of you slipping further away, and he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let that happen.

When another one of your housemates brushed him off with a mumbled “I don’t know,” Heeseung snapped. He didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but the frustration and worry boiled over. “How can you not know? You live with her! Hasn’t anyone even seen her?”

The girl flinched but reluctantly admitted, “She’s been in the dorm. She just... doesn’t come out.”

Those words were both a relief and a torment. You were there, within reach, but still so far away from him. The knowledge burned in his chest, twisting into something unbearable. You were so close—just a few walls separating you from him—but it might as well have been an ocean. And he was drowning in it.

Heeseung's desperation grew with every passing moment. He found himself pacing the corridors near your common room, running his hands through his hair, muttering curses under his breath. He couldn’t stand this helplessness, couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone, hurting because of him. The guilt was suffocating, pressing down on him like the weight of the castle itself.

He tried to write another letter, his trembling hands scrawling messy, frantic words onto the parchment.

Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I know you don’t want to see me, but please, just let me explain. Please let me make this right.

He crumpled it and started again, feeling like no words could possibly convey the storm in his chest. How could he put into words how much he hated himself for what happened? How could he tell you that the worst part of it all wasn’t Yoonhee’s betrayal or the humiliation of being under the potion’s effects—it was losing you?

He sent the letter anyway, knowing it was just one of many you’d likely left unopened.

The next day, he cornered one of your closest friends in the hallway. “Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “Please tell her I’m sorry. Tell her... tell her I’ll wait as long as it takes. I just need her to know.”

The friend hesitated, giving him a pitying look before nodding. But he didn’t trust that it would reach you. Heeseung was running out of patience, running out of hope. Every time he thought about the tears you must have shed, the pain you must have felt, it killed him a little more.

Late one night, he found himself back outside your common room again, leaning against the cold stone wall, staring blankly at the entrance. He didn’t even know what he was doing there. Maybe he hoped you’d come out? Maybe he thought you’d sense him there, that you’d realize he wasn’t going anywhere until you let him in.

His fists clenched at his sides, and before he could stop himself, he let out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead against the wall, his shoulders slumping. “I’ll wait. As long as it takes... I’ll wait for you.”

His voice cracked on the last words, but he meant it. Even if it hurt. Even if it felt like he was being torn apart. You were worth it. You were everything.

Eventually, the Christmas Ball arrived, but Heeseung didn’t want to go. The last thing he wanted was to pretend to enjoy himself, but his friends had other plans. They nagged him, teased him, and pushed him to "just have some fun for once." After a mountain of peer pressure, he reluctantly gave in, throwing on his suit and styling his hair without much care.

He still didn’t expect much. The Ball wasn’t going to fix anything—it was just a night to endure. He let his friends drag him along, had a drink or two, and resigned himself to the chatter around him. None of it mattered.

Until he saw you.

Everything else disappeared the moment his eyes found you across the room. You stood at the edge of the Grand Hall, illuminated by the soft glow of the enchanted snowflakes falling from the ceiling. Your dress shimmered, and you looked breathtaking. Stunning. Like a vision he didn’t deserve to see.

And then he realized—you were staring back at him.

His heart stopped. You weren’t avoiding him this time. You weren’t looking away. Your gaze was locked on his, full of something he couldn’t quite place—uncertainty, maybe? He didn’t care. All he knew was that you were here, and you were looking at him.

Before he could even process what he was doing, his feet started moving. His drink was left abandoned on a nearby table as he strode across the hall, weaving through the crowd until he was right in front of you.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

He had waited for you.

But now, he was done waiting.

For weeks, Heeseung had been nothing but patient, forcing himself to hold back when every fiber of his being screamed to see you, to talk to you, to fix things. He’d stayed away when he knew you needed space. He sent letters, messages, and even flowers, trying to show you he cared without pushing too hard.

And still, he never got a response.

But Heeseung told himself he could endure it, because you were worth it. He could be patient, be understanding, because he loved you. He was good for you, wasn’t he? He cared for you in ways no one else could. No one else would wait this long, worry this much, or fight this hard.

And yet, when he saw you standing there, in your pretty dress, something inside him snapped. He had been so good. He had done everything right. He had given you all the space you asked for, all the time you needed. But seeing you now, after everything, reminded him just how much he’d missed you. How much he’d longed for you. How much it hurt to be apart.

He wasn’t going to let you slip through his fingers again. Not when he knew how good the two of you were together.

He didn’t ask for permission when he reached for your hand, didn’t even hesitate—he simply took it, his fingers curling around yours like they belonged there. Because they did. He believed that with every beat of his heart.

As he pulled you toward the corridor, he felt his resolve solidify. He had been patient, more patient than he thought he was capable of, but patience had its limits. He had waited for you to come to him, but you hadn’t. And now that he had you in front of him, he wasn’t going to let you go.

And when you didn’t fight him as he led you into the quiet hallway, it gave him hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, you wanted this too.

a/n: i love writing his pov :) also im not sure when you put ur perm taglist... so im not adding it here xD already posted so much.

822 notes · View notes

intromortal · 2 months ago

Note

i’m BEGGING for more thoughts on stepbro jay … losing my mind over how soft u wrote him im obsessed (only if u want to tho !!)

⚠︎ smut. mdni. step-cest. soft dom jay, just some eating out through panties. also this got a bit longer than intended so i cut it short at the end but i do plan on eventually actually writing this as a longer work nonnie!! sorry for letting this sit in my inbox for so long pls

jay's touch is gentle as always, as his hand slides down the expanse of your back, goosebumps littering your skin in its wake.

you feel so incredibly silly for ever doubting jay's devotion and feelings for you now that you can get a close look at just how bright his eyes sparkle with adoration for you.

truth be told, it's not entirely on you. you devised a plan that backfired completely, yes. but jay just wants you to be happy and content, even if the man next to you isn't him (he also knows how a relationship like yours would be seen by outsiders, so he's happy to just be in your life at all)

so he put on his most convincing smile when you asked him to bring you along to hang out with his friends. took slow breaths to calm his heart down when he saw how gorgeous you looked when you told him you were ready, far too beautiful for a simple night with the boys.

he also hid the way his nails drew blood from his palm whenever you spent too much time talking to one of the guys, tried his best to ignore how your touch lingered on their shoulders and how their eyes undressed you right in front of him.

so imagine his surprise when at the end of the night you run out of his car, tears welling in your eyes, without ever looking back at him.

"aren't you the prettiest girl ever, my dove?" jay's voice is muffled as he presses kisses down your torso, his tongue darting out a few times to taste the saltiness of your skin. "so lovely too, putting on that show to make me jealous. and here i am, thinking you just wanted to fuck my friends after i helped you get off last time. i'm very dumb, aren't i?"

his lips reach your panties, a cute baby blue pair you picked out for him, that peeked out from time to time because of how short your dress was. his thumb hooks under the fabric, and just when you think he's gonna take them off, you feel them slap against your skin again. the sting is barely there, just enough to have you mewl as you arch your back into your step brother's touch, but it doesn't hurt. jay would never hurt you.

"easy, little dove. i watched you dance around the house all night, watched my friends strain to get a peek under your dress. but you just wanted to tease me, mhh? did you want to make me jealous? did your little dove brain think i would fuck you silly after this little stunt?"

"yes! please jay, i need you," your voice breaks slightly, and you can feel the smile forming against the flesh of your thigh. jay loves you like this. you're always cute, but you're so much cuter when you're needy and desperate for him.

"you got one thing right, baby. but not today." he whispers, his eyes locking on yours as he lets a glob of spit dribble right onto the core of your ruined panties, as if you needed any more wetness there. he bends down, never breaking eye contact with you to watch your reactions, and licks his own spit to spread it around the fabric covering your poor needy hole. "you're too fragile, but i'll slowly teach you how to take it. don't you want that?"

you nod desperately, gulping down as jay's careful touch spreads your legs so he can get more comfortable between them. "please, take them off?"

he looks up at you, fake confused at your question. "but why? you chose these for me? shouldn't i get to enjoy them fully?"

#ask #anon #jay smut #jay x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #jay thought

476 notes · View notes

holyblonded · 3 months ago

Text

other mother | stargirl

pairings: olga rios x teen!reader, alexia putellas x teen!reader, jenni hermoso x teen!reader

summary: jenni is in town and your closeness with her has olga feeling insecure as her position as your mother

notes: my inbox was flooded with people asking for this so here yall go 😀

“It’s Jenni Day!” you cheered as you practically skipped down the stairs, nearly tripping over your own feet in excitement. The smell of your favorite omelet filled the air, and when you entered the kitchen, you saw Olga at the stove, expertly flipping an egg while Alexia sat at the breakfast bar, sipping her tea.

“Jenni Day, Jenni Day, Jenni Day!” You chanted, throwing in a dramatic spin before moonwalking across the kitchen floor.

Alexia chuckled, shaking her head at your antics. “I take it you’re excited?”

“Yes! Do you know why?” You grinned, pointing at her like a game show host about to reveal the grand prize. “Because it’s Jenni Day!”

You launched into another celebratory dance, arms flailing, feet shuffling, completely lost in your own little world. Alexia laughed into her tea, and even Olga cracked a smile as she plated your omelet.

“You have way too much energy this early,” Olga mused, setting your plate in front of you.

“Of course I do! Jenni is coming, and it’s been forever since I last saw her!” You threw yourself into the stool next to Alexia, bouncing in place. “We’re still going to the airport to pick her up, right?”

Alexia nodded. “That’s the plan.”

Before you could respond, a knock at the door interrupted the conversation. You frowned, confused, whoever was here was intruding on your special celebration.

Alexia stood to answer it, but the moment the door swung open, a familiar voice rang out.

“¡Mi pequeño diabla!” (My little devil)

Your eyes widened in pure joy. “Jenni!”

Without hesitation, you bolted from your seat, sprinting across the kitchen and launching yourself into her arms. Jenni caught you with ease, laughing as she lifted you off the ground and spun you in a circle.

“My diablita, look at you! Have you grown? Or am I just getting old?” she teased, pressing loud, exaggerated kisses all over your face.

You giggled, squeezing her tight. “You’re ancient, Jenni.”

She gasped, feigning offense. “¡Qué mala!” She set you down only for you to immediately latch onto her side, practically glued to her as you dragged her toward the breakfast bar.

“Okay, okay, come sit! I have so much to tell you!” You pulled her into the seat next to yours, eyes bright with excitement. “You missed so much! Oh my god, wait, did you see my last match? And also, you have to see this new trick I learned— oh! And guess what? I have a girlfriend now! Her name is Soleil, and she’s the best, and I need to show you pictures—”

Jenni listened with an amused smile, nodding along as you spoke a mile a minute, gesturing wildly with your hands.

Meanwhile, Olga, who had turned back to the stove, found herself oddly quiet. She glanced over her shoulder at the way you clung to Jenni, the way you looked at her like she hung the moon, and something inside her twisted.

She knew Jenni had been in your life for years, had played a huge role in your childhood, especially when she and Alexia had been together. She understood the excitement, the affection— but still, as she stood there, spatula in hand, watching you practically vibrate with happiness in Jenni’s arms, she couldn’t help but feel like she was standing on the outside looking in.

Alexia noticed the shift in Olga’s demeanor, the slight slump of her shoulders, the way she suddenly seemed overly focused on the eggs she was cooking.

“You okay?” Alexia murmured, nudging Olga gently.

Olga forced a small smile. “Yeah… just not used to being replaced so quickly.”

Alexia sighed, wrapping an arm around Olga’s waist and pressing a reassuring kiss to her temple. “She loves you, you know that.”

“I know,” Olga admitted. “But right now, I think I’m just the lady who made her breakfast.”

Before Alexia could respond, your voice rang out again.

“Olga, come sit with us!” You turned to her, waving her over with an enthusiastic hand. “You have to hear this story Jenni’s telling!”

Olga hesitated for a split second before schooling her expression, pushing aside the small pang of insecurity.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming,” she said, finally taking the empty seat next to you.

And when you instinctively reached for her hand, squeezing it without even looking as you continued talking to Jenni, Olga felt some of that uncertainty ease.

The bell above the door chimed as you bounced into your favorite café, your hand wrapped around Soleil’s while Jenni strolled beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders like she never left. Alexia and Olga trailed behind, already making their way to the counter to order drinks while you led Jenni and Soleil to a cozy booth near the window.

“You’re gonna love this place,” you told Jenni, excitement bubbling in your voice. “They have the best pastries, and they always write little messages on the coffee cups.”

Jenni smirked, sliding into the seat across from you and Soleil. “I trust your taste, mi diablita.”

You turned to Soleil, eyes sparkling. “I can’t believe I haven’t introduced you two sooner! Jenni basically helped raise me. Like, she taught me how to ride a bike, took me to all my first pro matches, and—” you leaned in, stage whispering—“everything I know about being a striker? All from her.”

Soleil smiled warmly, looking at Jenni with clear appreciation. “That explains why you’re such a menace on the field.”

Jenni grinned. “Ah, so you’ve witnessed her chaos firsthand.”

Soleil laughed. “Every day.”

You laughed too, leaning into Jenni’s side and hugging her tightly. “She’s the best, Sol. When Ale and Jenni were dating, she was always around, always looking out for me. And even after… you know, they broke up, she never disappeared. She’s family.”

Jenni pressed a fond kiss to your temple. “Always.”

Across the café, Olga stood in line, watching the interaction with a tightness in her chest she couldn’t quite shake. You were radiant, so full of joy, clinging to Jenni like she was your lifeline. The way you looked at her, the way you spoke about her, all of it made Olga’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

She knew Jenni had been a part of your life long before she had. She knew Jenni had played a big role in raising you. But knowing it and watching it were two different things.

Alexia, standing beside her, caught the shift in Olga’s expression immediately. Without hesitation, she bumped Olga’s shoulder gently. “You good, amor?”

Olga plastered on a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, fine.”

Alexia didn’t buy it for a second. “You’re watching them like they just stole your puppy.”

Olga sighed, glancing away. “I just… she clearly loves Jenni. And I get it, Jenni was there when she was little, she taught her all these things, helped raise her—” she exhaled sharply— “but I’m supposed to be her mother now. And sometimes, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fill that space the way Jenni did.”

Alexia frowned, reaching for Olga’s hand and squeezing it. “Olga, you are her mother. She chose you, we chose you. That doesn’t change just because she loves Jenni too.”

Olga’s grip tightened slightly, her jaw clenching. “I know, but it’s different. She looks at Jenni like she’s the person who made her who she is. I just… I don’t want to be second place in something that means everything to me.”

Olga’s fingers curled into fists at her sides as she watched you practically drape yourself over Jenni, your eyes shining with admiration as you told Soleil story after story about how Jenni had shaped you. Every time you hugged Jenni, every time you laughed at something she said, every time you looked at her like she was one of the most important people in your world— it chipped away at something deep inside Olga.

She wasn’t jealous, not exactly. It wasn’t that she wanted to erase Jenni’s role in your life. It was the fear that no matter how much time passed, no matter how much love she gave, no matter how fiercely she protected you, she would always be playing catch up to the people who had come before her.

Jenni had been there for your firsts. Your first bike ride, your first professional match, your first real football lessons. She had guided you, shaped you, made you into the player, and person, you were now. And Olga? She had come in when you were already a teenager, already formed, already carrying years of love for people who had been there long before she was.

Would you ever look at her the way you looked at Jenni? Would you ever talk about her like that, with that same effortless fondness, that same unshakable attachment? Or would she always be the afterthought, the one who came later, the one who did the daily work of being your mother but never quite felt like she had earned the title?

She tried to shake the thoughts away, but they stuck, clinging to her like wet clothes. The café was warm, but suddenly, she felt cold.

The room was dark except for the dim glow of the bathroom light spilling in through the cracked door. The sound of running water filled the silence, Alexia still in the shower. You padded in quietly, rubbing your tired eyes, ready to burrow under the blankets and curl up against Olga like you did every night. But as you climbed onto the bed, something felt… off.

Olga was facing away from you, curled into herself, her shoulders rising and falling in uneven breaths. The second you got closer, you heard it— a soft sniff, barely audible, but enough to make your chest tighten.

“Olga?” you murmured, shifting closer, pressing against her back. “What’s wrong?”

She stiffened, wiping at her face quickly. “Nothing, nena. Just tired.”

Liar. You frowned, resting your chin on her shoulder. “You’re sniffling.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Allergies.”

You huffed. “You don’t have allergies.”

She didn’t say anything, just reached for your hand and squeezed it, like that would be enough to convince you she was fine. But you weren’t convinced. You could feel the sadness radiating off her, pressing into the space between you.

You lay there for a moment, racking your brain. What could’ve happened? She’d been fine earlier at the café. Or at least, she’d seemed fine. Maybe something happened after? You were deep in thought when you caught movement from the bathroom door.

Alexia had stepped out, her hair damp, her towel wrapped around her as she glanced at Olga and then at you. The moment you made eye contact, she raised her brows and nodded toward Olga, then dramatically mimicked wiping away tears.

You squinted at her. She nodded toward the door, signaling that she was leaving you to it, but not before she started her silent charades. She made a small motion, pointing at herself, then at Olga, then at you. Then she held up one finger. First? No. She repeated the movement, then mimed kicking a ball, then pointed at you again. Your brain worked through it. First. Football. You. It was about Jenni. Everything clicked at once, the way Olga had gone quiet while you were talking to Jenni, the way she lingered at the edge of the conversation instead of joining in. She was feeling insecure.

Alexia gave you a knowing look before slipping back into the bathroom, leaving you alone with Olga.

You exhaled softly, tightening your grip on her waist as you pressed your forehead against her shoulder. “Is this about Jenni?”

Olga’s breath hitched for a second before she let out a small laugh, watery and tired. “You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?”

You didn’t respond, just curled further into her, letting the silence settle before you spoke again. “Olga,” you started softly, “I need you to hear me, okay?”

She didn’t answer, but you could feel her breathing, steady but fragile, like she was waiting for you to say something that would make this ache in her chest go away.

You took a deep breath. “You are my mom.” You said it plainly, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “Jenni was there for me when I was a kid, yeah, and I’ll always love her for that, but that doesn’t take away from you. It never could.”

Olga stayed quiet, but you felt her relax just a little.

“You have been there for me in ways no one else has,” you continued. “You were there when I signed my first contract. You held my hand through that whole process because I was freaking out. You were there when I made my debut. You were the first person I looked for when I got subbed on. Do you know that?”

Olga swallowed. “Nena…”

“No, listen.” You sat up slightly, resting your weight on your elbow as you looked at her. “You were there the first time I got called up to the USWNT. You were there when I scored my first international goal, screaming like a crazy person in the stands. You were the one who stayed up with me when I had that awful stomach bug last year, even though you had training the next morning. You always carry snacks for me in your bag, you know exactly how I like my tea, you check in on me even when you’re halfway across the world.”

Olga wiped at her eyes, her lip trembling.

“You do all of that because you’re my mom, Mama.” Your voice softened. “You are the one who made me feel safe, who made me feel like I had a home, who made me believe that being loved wasn’t something I had to fight for.”

She let out a quiet sob, turning in your arms to pull you against her. You felt the dampness of her tears against your shirt as she buried her face in your shoulder, and you held her as tightly as she held you.

“I love you,” you whispered. “So much. I don’t care how many people were there before you, you are my mom. No one could ever replace you.”

Olga squeezed you impossibly tighter. “I love you too, mi niña.”

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, until the sound of Alexia clearing her throat from the bathroom doorway made you both look up.

“If you’re done making me cry from the other side of the door,” she said, voice thick with emotion, “can I get in on this cuddle session?”

You laughed, tugging Olga down with you as Alexia climbed into bed, wrapping an arm around both of you. And as you lay there, safe in the warmth of your family, you felt ii, Olga’s steady heartbeat beneath your palm, the rise and fall of her breath, the silent, unspoken promise that she was yours and you were hers, and that would never change.

566 notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 11 months ago

Text

blushing birthday

a/n: iihhh! first story in this slutty au! felt like this was a good place to jump off from. and also, i just wanna point this out because i nearly never do and perhaps some people don’t realise it, but if you have a thought, an idea, a wish or request in this au (or any other, my inbox is always open for requests) then feel free to click on my ask button and send it my way ♡

summary: “so, what I was thinking,” you tilted your head, “was that before I go give him his present, you guys could maybe help me prep a little bit, warm me up and stretch out my ass enough to fit his big fat cock. Would you guys like that?”

warnings: various x camgirl!reader, smut, porn au, college au, roommate!bucky barnes, roommate!steve rogers, roommate!curtis everett, ex!ransom drysdale, dilf neighbour!andy barber, reader's porn name is cherry blossom (UrLittleCherry), friends with benefits, happy hippie fun poly vibes, curtis’ birthday, partying, alcohol consumption, kissing, masturbation, impact play, fingering, toys, edging, clothed sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, multiple orgasms, anal, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

word count: 3953

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

sugar & spice au masterlist | 101, intro to the au

masterlist | join my taglist

The last rays of sunshine for the day streamed in through the half-drawn curtains and cast soft shadows across your form as you sat cross-legged on your mattress.

With your reach outstretched towards your laptop propped up on the chair situated at the foot of your bed, you clicked on the go live button and watched as a countdown appeared on the screen, overlaying your visage staring back at you as your gaze briefly flickered around to check your gear one last time.

Thanks to your three roommates who’d insisted on helping you upgrade your setup, there wasn’t just one, but two cameras pointing directly at you. One angle to catch all of your frame and one zoomed-in to capture a perfect close-up between your legs.

“Hey guys!” a warm smile swiftly dazzled your features as you watched the first few people jump at your notification, “good evening or good–, whatever time of day it is for you.”

The messages in the chat started rolling in, some with usernames you recognised and some you didn’t.

TheFrogo: Hi Cherry! How are you? Have you had a good day so far?

DrownByPussy: Omg you’re finally live! I’ve been hard all day knowing I’d get to see you today.

“Hi Frogo, yeah, I’ve had a pretty good day, but I’m hoping that it might get even better, because I’ve got something pretty fun planned for tonight,” your hands absentmindedly fidgeted along the length of your legs as you spoke, “so, today is a friend of mine’s birthday and–, wait,” you paused and leaned in closer to catch a better look of the scrolling messages, “I haven’t seen you write in the chat yet, but birthday boy, if you’re here, you better log off right now or you’ll ruin your surprise,” you warned, glancing straight into the camera, “I’ll give you five seconds get off,” a pointer finger then kissed each of your digits as you counted down, “five… four… three… two… one,” you squinted a moment longer before a giggle bubbled out, “okay, so now that it’s just us, I can tell you what I’ve got planned,” you switched up your seat, moving your legs to comfortably kneel on the mattress with your frame slightly turned at an angle for you to better see the screen, but retroactively grant everyone a view of the curve of your spine as the line swooped down over your waist and blossomed into the plush of your ass, sinfully on display in the pastel blue, mesh lingerie you wore, “there is one thing in particular that he has just been begging for… any guesses?”

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer: Hmm… is it a particular fantasy? A little bit of roleplay action?

8inchStallion: Threesome?

“Nope. All fun suggestions, but no.”

TittyCokeKingXXX: Is it to bang in public?

Cream314159: How about anal?

“Cream! Yes! You guessed it!” you excitedly threw your hands up in the air, “it is anal that he’s been dreaming about.”

Ddadddy6969: I mean, who can blame him.

ItsBradBtch: Fucking same.

TearinYoBootyUp: Wish it was my birthday today so you’d let me fuck your tight little ass.

“So, what I was thinking,” you tilted your head, “was that before I go give him his present, you guys could maybe help me prep a little bit, warm me up and stretch out my ass enough to fit his big fat cock. Would you guys like that?”

KyleKyleson: Yes!

UrPervyDaddy398: Hell yeah, let’s get you ready to take that monster cock.

Casting a glance out of the nearby window, your eye couldn’t help but catch sight of the neighbouring house. It didn’t look like the divorced dad who resided there was home, though you still nevertheless searched for him. You weren’t completely clueless to his infatuation with you, though it had almost turned into a game, always trying to catch him peeping at you through the windows, or even taking it further by purposely wearing something skimpy when you’d go get the mail or other activities where you would know you’d bump into him. You didn’t judge him to be the type of man to ever really do anything about it, to actually reach out and grasp a wet dream of a girl so much his junior, but the teasing had become too much fun for you to stop, you were too far gone to draw the curtains closed now.

As a quiet jingle sounded from your speakers, indicating that someone had tipped you, your gaze flickered back towards the computer screen.

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer: Is that the underwear set I bought you off your wishlist? You look even more gorgeous in it than I imagined.

“Oh, thanks A,” you let your palms graze down over the thin mesh, feeling your pussy clench as your touch brushed over your nipples poking through the baby blue material, “yeah, it is. It matches the dress I’m planning on wearing tonight, so I thought I’d be cute.”

Call_Me_Sir_844: Turn around, Cherry. Let us see it from the back.

“Yes, sir, of course,” you chuckled lightly before shifting around, purposely arching your back as you glanced over your shoulder.

729AlwaysHard: How is your ass even real?

Like1OfUrFrenchGrls: Damn, that butt is just begging for a spanking.

Raking your touch down your sides, you smirked, “oh, you want me to spank my ass?” before the jingle of a tip echoed from the computer, “alright, baby,” and like a cat, your frame scooped down, gliding on to all fours and sticking your bottom high up in the air, “how many do you think? Let’s say, highest tipper gets to decide, but please, be kind, I still have to be able to dance the night away tonight.”

TittyCokeKingXXX tipped $50 – 10 spanks, with a paddle

BootyLover47 tipped $35 – 4 spanks

MrHansen tipped $100 – 6 spanks

“Thank you guys,” you wiggled playfully for them, “and Mr. Hansen, wow, thank you so much!” you squeaked ecstatically, “well, I guess I better start counting then.”

After each smack your palm landed on your propped-up bottom, the coinciding number rolled off your lips till your ass was tingling and sore for all your viewers to see.

WinterIsCumming: Fuck, just seeing your little pussy through those panties… they’re soaked, aren’t they?

Gliding a hand down between your legs, your fingertips ghosted over the sheer fabric that clung to your core.

“They are, Winter,” you blinked up at the camera, “man, I wish you were here to give me a hand.”

NastyBoi: Show us that pretty little pussy, come on, don’t be shy now.

“You want me to take my underwear off for you? Take them off so that I can really play?”

And with the chimes of tips swiftly ringing in your ears, one of your fingers then hooked in the gusset and carefully peeled it to the side, letting it act as a frame as you momentarily teased them with just a glimpse of your glistening folds, before you slowly slid them off completely.

Eventually, after your slick digits had gotten a chance to warm you up and tease you till you were practically buzzing on both of the camera angles that now displayed you, as it hadn’t taken you very long till you switched to a split screen, both your face frozen in a silent moan and your pretty holes drooling for attention pressed up against one another, side by side on the stream, your fingers then reached for a toy, the pretty glass dildo you had picked out just before the show.

You first popped the toy in your mouth as you flipped around and relaxed back against your pile of pillows. Letting your gaze flicker over the downright filthy comments rolling across the screen, you sucked on the toy for a bit before pulling it out and letting it float down south.

“Fuck,” your eyes fluttered slightly as you rubbed the tip gently against your little rosebud, “oh, that feels so good.”

Cream314159: Yeah, Cherry, tease that little ass like a good slut.

8inchStallion: Fuck, you’re gonna make me blow my load soon if you keep looking like that.

Ddadddy6969: Has your fuck buddy really never had your ass before? Tbh kinda hard to believe considering what a whore you are for all of us. I love your anal shows, they’re always my favourite.

“I know, daddy,” a light giggle tore through your form, “I’m honestly kinda surprised as well, but no, it hasn’t happened yet.”

BongDong420: Wait, are you an anal virgin? Plot twist.

“No, no, I’m not, I love anal,” you sucked in a gentle gasp as you let just the tip of the toy breach your tight opening, “I just haven’t really done it yet with too many different people. Actually, I’ve only done it with one so far, now that I think about it,” you swiftly shook your head and forced your eyes to flicker to the messages to rid your thoughts of your ex.

Call_Me_Sir_844: Please open your mouth, I’m gonna cum!

“Oh, yes, please cum for me, sir,” you answered the comment and then let your lips part wide. As your tongue stuck out as well, a string of saliva soon dripped down as you waited, the spit colliding with your tits and running down your cleavage.

A_B_Cunt_Destroyer tipped $550 – Don’t let yourself cum. Edge yourself so that you can be all drippy and dumb for him like a good little present should be.

Since you and your roommates lived in a residential area too quiet for college ragers, some of the guys Steve and Bucky were on the football team with offered to throw the bash at their fraternity.

Music blared, nearly making the entire house rumble, as you walked around the place, searching for the one of your roommates who the party was in honour of.

Fiddling lightly with the hem of your silky dress as you peeked into the room where a rowdy game of beer pong was afoot, you still felt a little dizzy as desperation soaked through your ruined panties.

Though, as you checked the kitchen, a bulky frame bumped into you, though it wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill frat boy, incapable of watching where they went, it was the very last person you wished to lay your eyes upon.

“Y/n, hey,” the trust fund kid caught your arm before you could slip away.

“Ransom,” you couldn’t help but clench your jaw as you tried to free yourself of his hold, “hello.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here tonight.”

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” you nearly scoffed as you squinted up at him, “it’s my roommate’s birthday party.”

“Right, forgot you moved in with all of them, became just one of the boys…” as a beat of silence fell over him, he let his gaze then rake over your form, lapping up the soft blue material that draped across your curves, “you look good tonight, by the way.”

“I–…” your eyes fluttered shut as you let out a sigh, “Ransom, can we not? Just for tonight, can we not do all of this? Just let me be here, celebrate my friend, and then after that, if you so wish, we can get back to our regularly scheduled program. Just one night of peace, that’s all I’m asking for.”

His dark brows then furrowed as he cocked his head, “babe, come on–”

Cutting him off with a scoff, you spat, “I haven’t been your babe since you broke up with me.”

He had been all for landing a girl that was essentially a wet dream come true when it came to all of the sinful areas you were itching to explore with him, but what hadn’t been a part of his plans was having a girlfriend who wasn’t exclusively a slut for him and him alone. He’d told you to choose between him and your dirty little hobby, but to his surprise, you hadn’t even hesitated when you didn’t choose him.

A low sigh then puffed from his lungs, “fine.”

Heatedly ripping your arm free, you echoed, “fine,” before turning on your heel and exiting the kitchen.

Luckily, your search didn’t drag on too much further before you stumbled upon your celebrated friend.

“There you are!” you exclaimed, your voice ushering Curtis’ head to twist in your direction, his glance shifting from the pool table before him.

“Baby!” he swiftly threw open his inked arms and pulled you close, “hey!”

Hearing the heavy balls clank around on the table, you asked, “are you in the middle of a game or could I steal you away for a sec?”

“Nah, not this round,” he withdrew only ever so slightly, letting one of his arms stay draped over your shoulders, “what do you need?”

Pulling him with you in the direction of the wide staircase, you smirked, “I just have a present to give you…”

“Another one?” he blinked as you dragged him up the steps.

“Well, you deserve the world, so yes, you get another one this year,” you offered him a warm smile.

“Man,” he exhaled as you reached the upper level, “happy birthday to me,” a smirk spread across his features as he willingly let you push him into one of the rooms.

It was a study room filled with long communal desks, tall bookcases and velvet armchairs. It was also, thankfully, vacant of any other partygoers.

“Happy birthday, Curtis,” you didn’t waste any time, the door barely managed to slam behind you, before you yanked him in for a kiss.

It took him a second before he caught up with your sudden actions, but as soon as he did, a gentle giggle rumbled from his intoxicated form and vibrated against your lips as he enveloped his long arms around your frame.

Feet shuffling, your roommate soon bumped into one of the tables, lending him to half sit on it as you let your touch rake down his figure. Even with the swift and determined pace your desperation drove you to have, it still didn’t take that long for Curtis to be on the same page as you, and when your palm fluttered down to cup him through his pants, the tent twitched beneath your touch.

At first, when you then withdrew from the kiss, Curtis instinctively followed your disappearing lips till he noticed your knees buckling as you sank down onto the floor.

“This is so much better than losing at pool,” he gazed down at you between his thighs, nearly hypnotised as you tugged at his zipper.

“I’d sure hope so,” you nearly scoffed as you freed him of his binds, not hesitating to lean in and swipe your tongue silkily against the very tip of him as soon as you had the chance, “although, you know I never mind being a consolation prize.”

“Consolation prize?” his tone filtered through a soft groan as your fist enclosed around his base, twisting slightly as it jerked up to graze your mouth, “that’s not what you were last week.”

“Yeah, but that was different,” your giggle vibrated against him, “it’s okay, baby. Maybe next time we play at home you’ll get to win and show the others who’s boss,” you purred before your lips enveloped fully around his fat girth.

When spit and slobber soon bubbled out and dripped down onto your chest from your efforts, you got back up to your feet. As you let the back of your palm wipe a bit of the mess from your chin, you twisted your frame around and let your spine melt back against this broad chest.

As you felt Curtis’ fingers dig into your dress and hike it up, you rolled your hips back against him, nearly dizzy with want. Gliding a hand down between your thighs, you captured the sodden material, utterly ruined and clinging to your core, before you yanked it to the side, the leaky mess not yet ready to let go of the panties and spiderwebbing to where you pulled it to the side.

Reaching around, your grip captured his cock once again as you tilted him to teasingly brush through your folds, your activities from earlier made it almost pathetic how sloppy you got him in a matter of seconds.

As his lips pressed to your cheek in a hot kiss, you glanced over your shoulder to catch his eye and take in his reaction.

You didn’t warn him, nor say anything at all. Only a smirk glimmered on your lips as a forewarning before you led him away from the leaky entrance he naturally assumed you’d let him into, and instead arched your back and eased his slicked-up length into somewhere else.

“Oh–, holy shit,” his eyes flickered down to affirm what you were doing before blinking up at you in the assumption that it was a mistake, “baby, you’re–”

“I know,” you smiled at the way his chest heaved at the realisation.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Told you I had another present for you,” your gloating grin softened at the moan that slipped out as you sank down just a little further upon his dick.

His fingers dented both sides of your hips as you slowly let him feel more of you, “oh my god, you’re the fucking best…”

It was shallow at first, gentle as you controlled the pace, though still mind-meltingly intense as you fucked back against him till your knees began to wobble, feeling each and every little detail of his stretch your little ass out.

You felt his hot breath on the side of your face between the lazy pecks he planted there and occasionally veering further south to try and mark your neck up with his bites.

“O-oh, fuck,” you whimpered when one of his inked arms snaked around to your front and stretched down to rub your clit, swollen and throbbing between the pads of his rough fingers.

Since you’d backed away from the edge not too long before, its overwhelming return was swift and quickly rendered you a shivering mess in his arms as your rhythm came to a rest and the tight circles he drew over your puffy pearl pushed you into insanity.

Eyes still shut as you were panting for breath, you felt Curtis pluck up your chin and tilt it so that his lips could seize yours.

Though the blissful pause didn’t last very long before he manoeuvred you around, manhandling you into a new configuration, though all the while never slipping his cock out.

His palm was heavy against your back as he whirled you around and bent you over the table. Cheek smooshed against the smooth wooden surface, the thunderous snap his hips then offered caused the desk to rattle beneath you.

However, just as you sensed him begin to lose himself, burying his cock so deep inside of you that it caused you to see stars, the creaking sound of the door to the study swinging open sliced through the lewd harmonies already filling the room.

Even though you couldn’t really glance over your shoulder to see who it was that entered, the recognisable voices that then found your ears calmed your worries about why Curtis’ pace for some reason hadn’t slowed down in the slightest.

“No, I’m not kidding, that’s really what–, oh,” Bucky’s sentence paused as soon he spotted you, “hello you two.”

You attempted to tilt your head against the table as the last of your roommates came into view, shut the door behind them and stepped closer.

As you reached out a wobbly hand to grasp Steve’s, he sweetly caught it in his and chuckled at your cock drunk visage, “hey.”

“Hmm–, hi…” you attempted to greet them, Bucky swiftly bending down to briefly be at your height, letting his fingers brush some of your hair out of your face as Curtis’ efforts jolted your frame against the table at every feverish thrust.

“Was wondering where you guys were,” Steve held onto your hand a little longer as his glance met the blissful gaze of the man who was balls deep inside of you, “I thought she already gave you her little present.”

“You knew?” Curtis tilted his chin, to which you tried to explain with a mumble, though one of your roommates didn’t hesitate to playfully ask you to clarify.

“I’m sorry what was that? You’re being too much of whore right now for me to understand you,” Bucky pressed a peck to your brow before straightening back up, “look, I would have totally told you man, but she threatened us not to ruin the surprise.”

“Yeah, said that if you didn’t get to take a dip first, then none of us ever would,” Steve added.

“Aw,” you felt Curtis kneed your bottom as he slammed into you, “you’d really have done that?”

“I did say you deserve the world, so yeah,” you managed to squeak.

“It’s so cute how sappy birthdays make you,” Bucky smirked, “such a shame not one of us even hesitates to exploit it.”

As one hand stayed glued to the curve of your ass, his thumb hooked in your underwear to grant not only him but the rest a perfect view of just how well you took him, Curtis’ other hand then stretched out to grasp the half-empty beer that Steve handed him, briefly taking a swig before handing it back.

“Yeah, she really is just such a good little girl, aren’t you?” Steve found a seat on one of the nearby chairs.

“Mhm…” you barely caught sight of how both of them palmed themselves for an ounce of relief.

Sitting down as well, Bucky squinted cockily back at you as your hazy eyes briefly caught his, “what was that, sweetheart?”

“I’m a–,” you blubbered as Curtis’ cock stretched you so wide that you even felt it press against the sweet spots in your throbbing pussy, “I’m a g-good girl–”

“Yes, you are, baby, that’s right,” Curtis chuckled warmly behind you before offering your ass a swift slap, “the fucking best.”

“Oh, oh! She’s so close to cumming, I can see it!” Bucky exclaimed in an almost mocking tone as your eyes began to roll, “just look at that face,” he nearly jumped to get closer, “so fucking pretty.”

“Come on, Y/n,” Steve leaned back in his seat and squeezed his hard-on as he stared at your fucked out form, “give us a good show. Make it good for the birthday boy.”

Although, unfortunately, you were already too far gone by then to take any of their lewd comments into account as you tumbled over the edge, floating in the sea of your cheering roommates as a soundtrack.

After your friend had emptied himself into your haven, he simply slid your panties back into place so that his cum could leak out of you for the rest of the party and ruin your sheer underwear completely, perhaps even give up entirely and run down your shaky legs for all to see.

Bending down to smother you back to life with kisses, you also felt Curtis’ arms tangle around you as he hugged you and slowly lifted you off of the table.

“You wanna go down and dance?” his low timbre tickled the shell of your ear.

“Just give me a second,” you breathed through your hazy smile as you fought to blink your eyes back open, “my legs will first have to start working again. Maybe you could take over the music for a second and queue up something slow,” you light-heartedly suggested with an airy chuckle.

“Don’t you worry, baby,” Bucky smirked from across the table, “we’ll help keep you upright.”

#lea’s writing #sugar and spice au #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut #curtis everett smut #chris evans smut #sebastian stan smut #andy barber smut #ransom drysdale smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett au #steve rogers series #bucky barnes series #chris evans x reader

2K notes · View notes

slutoru1207 · 3 months ago

Text

Home Among the Stars

A/N: I felt like writing something cute. Also, im currently fixing everything on my tumblr sooo sorry it's taking some time. OMG i need people to inbox me so can make more invincible x reader or any characters!!!

Mark had noticed it before you ever said a word.

The way your fingers traced over old photos from Earth. The way your gaze lingered on the horizon, looking for something that wasn’t there. The little sighs you let out when you thought he wasn’t listening.

You never complained. Never said you wanted to leave. But Mark knew you—better than anyone. And he could see it.

You missed home.

And that? That was something he could fix.

It took weeks. Months, even.

Mark wasn’t a builder. He could destroy things easily, tear down mountains with his bare hands—but creating? That was new. Still, he was determined.

He studied Earth architecture. Found materials that mimicked wood and stone. He obsessed over the details—down to the soft creak of the porch steps, the way the kitchen felt warm and inviting, the big windows letting in natural light. He even made sure the house had a proper backyard, one big enough for you.

Because this? This wasn’t just a house.

This was your home.

When he took you there, he didn’t say a word.

Just scooped you up in his arms and flew—fast enough to make you yelp, slow enough to keep you close. The alien landscape stretched beneath you, endless hills and skies. But then—

You saw it.

Nestled in a quiet valley, a house. But not just any house—your house.

A wraparound porch hugged the front, wooden beams carved with care. The windows reflected the soft light, and a little pathway led to the backyard. It looked so out of place in this world, yet so right.

Your breath caught. “Mark…”

But he was already watching you, waiting—eyes flickering over your face, desperate to see your reaction.

“Do you like it?” he asked, voice softer than usual. Almost hesitant.

You turned to him, heart swelling. “I love it."

If Mark thought you were just going to sit in your perfect little house and do nothing—he was wrong.

Within days, you had a plan.

The backyard? Your domain now.

Mark stood on the porch, arms crossed, watching as you knelt in the dirt—carefully planting rows of vegetables, fruit, and roses.

He had never seen you so focused. There was a smear of soil on your cheek, your hands covered in dirt, but you were glowing.

"This is ridiculous,” he muttered, though he was grinning.

You wiped sweat from your forehead, smirking up at him. “You built me a house. I’m making it a home.”

And he couldn’t argue with that.

Despite not needing to eat as often as humans, Mark still insisted on helping you in the kitchen. You taught him how to knead dough, chop vegetables (without crushing them), and make dishes from scratch.

One night, he surprised you by making dinner on his own.

It was… chaotic. Flour on the counter, ingredients everywhere, but he stood there proudly, holding a plate of slightly misshapen but adorable homemade dumplings.

You tried one. Not bad.

Mark raised a brow. “That good, huh?”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “It’s perfect.”

One evening, as the sky turned soft shades of orange and pink, Mark called you outside.

You stepped onto the porch—only to see a tiny puppy sitting at his feet.

White fur, light brown spots, floppy ears, and huge soulful eyes. It looked up at you and let out a tiny bark.

Your heart melted.

“Oh my god—” you crouched down instantly, scooping up the little thing. It fit perfectly in your arms, soft and warm. The puppy licked your cheek, tail wagging furiously.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, looking smug. “I figured you might want some company when I’m out.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. “You got us a dog?”

His arms wrapped around you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder as he hummed, “Mmm, yeah. But mostly for you.”

You turned, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”

He grinned. “I know.”

After a long day of planting, cooking, and running around with your new puppy, the two of you sat on the porch.

The sky above was endless, filled with stars brighter than anything on Earth.

You leaned against Mark, wrapped in a soft blanket, a cup of tea in your hands. His arm was slung around you, warm and secure. The puppy curled up at your feet, tiny snores filling the air.

“You happy?” he murmured, voice low and gentle.

You turned, looking at him—the strongest warrior in the universe, the same man who built you a home with his own two hands just to make you smile.

You kissed him softly. “Yeah. I really am.”

And in that moment, with the universe stretching out before you, Mark realized something.

This wasn’t just your home.

It was his, too.

Because wherever you were—that’s where he belonged.

#mark x reader #mark grayson invincible #invincible comic #invincible fanfic #invincible smut #invincible x you #invincible season 3 #invincible x reader #invincible #mark grayson x reader #viltrumite mark #viltrimite mark #viltrumite #viltrum mark

522 notes · View notes

alisonwritesimagines · 1 year ago

Text

Wayne Family Garden ~Batmom Imagine~

Summary: Your plan on growing a garden. However, you don’t have a green thumb. Luckily, you know someone who does.

Author’s Note: I'm obessed with the Wayne Family Adventures on WebToons. Like you don't know how obsessed I am with them.

BatFamily Masterlist

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff, Poison Ivy and Harley know the Batfam's identies (its canon)

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

"What do you think Alfred?"

"I think having a lemon tree could really benefit the garden and our groceries," Alfred tells you.

"Maybe we can have an apple tree too?" You said.

"Sounds delightful. And Master Bruce agreed to your garden?"

"Yup. Said we can have it on the side in the backyard. And we can grow whatever we want," you smiled.

"We should start off small then," Alfred said.

"Right. So then a lemon tree, an apple tree, and carrots?" You asked.

"Sounds good to me," Alfred smiled.

You had been growing more bored around your home now that most of your kids were adults and had moved out of the mansion. So after seeing a good amount of gardening TikToks, you wanted to start your own little garden. But there was one slight problem, you didn't know how to garden.

So there was one person you could think of who could help you start off. You didn't want to bother Alfred more than what he has to deal with so you used your husband's technology to find a certain someone.

The apartment complex looked a little run down but yet again, you knew this was where they would be laying low. You knocked on the front door, only to see Harley Quinn opening it up.

"Mrs. Wayne? Whatcha doin here?" Harley asked you.

"Hiya, Harley. I'm looking for Ivy. Is she around?" You asked.

"Yeah. What's going on?" Harley asked.

"Harley. Who is it?" You heard Ivy ask.

"It's Y/n Wayne! Batman's wife!" Harley said excitedly.

"Hi, Ivy. I came here to ask for a favor," you tell her.

"Uh sure. What's up?" Ivy asked.

"I am currently planting a garden at my home but the problem is, I don't know how to garden. I was wondering if you can help me out," you asked her.

"Don't you have a butler who also knows how to garden?" Ivy asked.

"Yes but I don't want to bother him more than my family already has. And besides, I need more females around the house," you mentioned.

"What are you trying to grow?" Harley asked.

"I would like to start off with a lemon tree, an orange tree, and an apple tree. But I know those take a couple years to grow but I would like to begin growing carrots, tomatoes, and green beans as well," you tell her.

"Those are good to start off with," Ivy mentioned.

"Thanks. So will you come by my house with me and help me get started? I have the tools and everything to start off," you asked her.

"Yeah. My schedule is clear for today," Ivy shrugged.

"Thank you! Harley! You can come over too," you invited.

"Oh sweet!"

Whenever it was a light night, meaning that there was barely crime for once in Gotham, the whole family would get together for dinner. However, they were surprised to see two new comers joining you all in dinner.

"I expect you all to behave yourselves for the night. Ivy and Harley are my guests as they helped me with my garden today," you tell your family.

"Yes mom."

"And no hero or villain talk in the table. I would like a dinner where we can just eat like normal people for once," you say as you prepped the table.

During dinner, everyone ate peacefully but kept a close eye on Harley and Ivy. It was mainly you talking about the garden and your plans for it.

"What are you planning on growing in the garden ummi?" Damien asked you.

"I would like a lemon, orange, and an apple tree but I know those take a while to grow. But I'm also planning on growing some carrots, green beans, and tomatoes to start off," you say excitedly.

"Just make sure to follow the instructions I gave you," Ivy said.

"Of course. And I'll call you in case anything happens," you smiled at her.

The next few weeks, you were proud of your work. The trees were starting to form slowly but surely. You kept notes to check your progress as well as making sure everything was going smoothly. So it wasn't a surprise for the batfamily to see Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy come to their house every week to help check on your garden.

"They're growing good," Ivy tells you,

"Thank you!"

"If you want, I can help you speed up the process for the trees."

"I know I should wait but I do want to try baking an apple pie and make my own orange juice."

"As long as you keep maintaining it you should be fine."

"Mmm. Okay. Let's do it!"

Cassandra and Stephanie quickly rushed over to Harley's and Ivy's place with the bag from their mom. It had been a couple weeks since Ivy and Harley last visited you and your garden. Cassandra knocked on the door, waiting for one of them to answer.

"What do you kids want?" Ivy asked as she opened the door.

"wanted us to drop this off to you," Stephanie said as she handed her the bag. Ivy looked into it before smiling. A fresh apple pie along with a pitcher of orange juice and lemonade were placed in the bag.

"Tell her we said thank you."

"We will!"

"Let her know that if she wants to start something new, have her call me," Ivy tells the girls.

"We will!"

#batman x reader #batman imagine #batman #batmom #batmom imagine #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batfamily #batfam x reader #batman imagines #harley quinn #poison ivy #dc #dc imagine #wayne family adventures #alisonwritesimagines

2K notes · View notes

lowryuk · 4 months ago

Text

Yours to Break.

Pairing: Ex-boyfriend!Eren x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.3K

Summary: No matter how hard you try to stay away from Eren, he always finds a way back to you—and you always let him.

A/N: hihihiya! I hope you enjoy and if you do, please consider to like, reblog and follow :D. I’m always open to give additional headcannons on my fics, so don’t be afraid to fill up my inbox with questions or comments—I’d love to answer them! The ex!bf eren won the poll so here it is. Look forward to the jock!Eren x reader that will come out some time next week (aiming for Tuesday night). Also, thank you for all the love on “What Was Mine.” I’m super glad so many of you enjoyed it :)

Side note (read after you finish fic to avoid spoilers): I know Eren’s pretty toxic in this one (I genuinely didn’t mean to do that lol) but I promise you he gets better over time and him and reader work it out.

(Warnings are below undercut)

Warning(s): Toxic!Eren (sorry), borderline abusive relationship (Eren’s very manipulative), Violent!Eren (but not towards reader), fight scene, possessiveness, angst, jealousy from both sides, insecurity, unprotected sex (wrap your willyyy), p in v, rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, marking/biting, dirty talk from Eren, hair pulling, cum eating, fingering, finger sucking

Taglist❣️: @erenjaegerwifee, @m0chamami

Eren Yeager was your first love.

It started in high school, in a cramped math classroom where he took the seat beside you and, with an easy confidence, offered to help when he noticed you struggling. Numbers had always come naturally to him, while you found comfort in words. So when you walked into English class and spotted him flipping aimlessly through the pages of a novel he clearly had no interest in, it only made sense that he patted the seat beside him, smirking as if to say, your turn to return the favor.

He was charming in a way that felt easy, the kind of person who could make anyone laugh with little effort, who was liked by everyone without even trying. And he knew it. He took advantage of the way you got flustered when he leaned in too close, how your gaze would drop to your desk anytime he said something bold, teasing you just enough to make your stomach tighten in that unfamiliar, fluttering way.

At some point, he asked for your number. It started off as innocent as it could be—just conversations about homework and upcoming assignments, exchanging notes before tests. But before long, the texts became less about school and more about each other. Late-night messages filled with inside jokes, subtle flirting that you’d overanalyze before falling asleep.

Then, one day, he asked if you wanted to hang out after school. You said yes, and sitting in his car, parked in a quiet lot, he turned to you and asked you out on your first real date. From that moment on, Eren was yours, and you were his.

For three years, life was blissful.

Then, in your first year of university, something shifted. Eren changed.

The boy who had once been so easygoing, so secure, had suddenly become possessive. At first, it was subtle—an offhand remark about how a guy in your class seemed too friendly, a joke about how you were too nice for your own good. But soon, it escalated. If you had a male partner for a group project, Eren had to be present, insisting it was only to “keep an eye on things.” The first time he said that, you could only stare at him, stunned into silence.

He had never been this way before. He had never cared if you had male friends, never acted as if he didn’t trust you.

"Why would you even think that?" you had asked him, incredulous, because you had done nothing—absolutely nothing—to warrant the suspicion lacing his voice. But he brushed it off, called it a joke, even though there was nothing funny about the way he was suddenly scrutinizing your every move.

You should have left then. You should have realized that love wasn’t supposed to feel like walking on eggshells, wasn’t supposed to be a constant battle to prove your loyalty to someone who once trusted you implicitly. But the thought of leaving him was suffocating. You didn’t know how to exist in a world where he wasn’t yours, where you weren’t his. So, you bit your tongue every time he accused you of things you hadn’t done. You let it slide when he checked your phone, when he questioned why a guy had liked your photo, when he made you feel like you had to explain yourself for things that never needed an explanation before.

And you endured it all—until the night of your best friend’s birthday.

She had gone all out, booking a VIP section at one of the best clubs in the city, followed by a stay at a high-end hotel where everyone would unwind, sober up, and just enjoy each other’s company. The moment you told Eren about it, he made his stance clear—he didn’t want you to go. You weren’t surprised. You had skipped out on nearly every get-together in the past year to appease him, and on the rare occasions you did go, Eren had been right there with you, monitoring, hovering, making it painfully obvious that he didn’t like or trust your friends and your friends felt the same way about him.

They had been in your ear for months now, warning you that his behavior was concerning, that he was controlling every aspect of your life. The worst part? They weren’t wrong. You just weren’t ready to admit it yet.

So this time, you refused to back down. You had to go—if not for yourself, then at least for the people who had been patiently waiting for you to come to your senses.

Eren wasn’t happy, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Instead, he settled for damage control, reminding you—no, demanding—that you answer every single one of his messages throughout the night and call him the second you want to go home and he’ll pick you up. Because god forbid you stay the night with your girlfriends. God forbid he didn’t have a grip on you, even for just one evening.

You smoothed your hands down the fabric of your dress, adjusting the hem before stepping out of your room. The black bodycon hugged every curve, accentuating the shape Eren had always been so possessive over. And judging by the way his eyes darkened the moment he saw you, that possessiveness was alive and well.

His gaze swept over you slowly, his jaw tightening. He didn’t say a word at first, just exhaled through his nose like he was biting his tongue. It was rare for him to hold back, but you knew exactly why he did—because if he started an argument now, there was a chance you’d walk out of this apartment and ignore his messages for the rest of the night.

And Eren couldn’t have that.

So instead of criticizing your outfit, he did what he always did. He pulled you into him, his hands trailing down your waist, pressing flush against the fabric he so clearly disapproved of. His lips ghosted over your cheek before dipping lower, warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin of your neck. Then, before you could react, he sucked at the spot beneath your jaw, just enough to leave a mark.

You let out a sharp whine, shoving at his chest. “Eren.”

He smirked, fingers tracing over the faint bruise he’d left behind like a signature. “M’sorry, baby,” he murmured, though he sounded anything but apologetic. “You just look so good. Smell good, too.”

You sighed, shaking your head. You knew what he was doing. He’d played this game before, trying to soften you up with kisses and sweet words, hoping you’d decide to stay in instead. But tonight, you weren’t falling for it.

“Come on, ‘ren,” you said, stepping back before he could try again. “I’m gonna be late.”

The corner of his mouth twitched downward, a heavy exhale slipping past his lips. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he must’ve realized it was pointless. Without another word, he grabbed his keys and his jacket, leading you out to the car.

The drive to the club was quiet. His hand rested on your thigh like it always did, but there was a stiffness to his touch, like he was holding something back. When he pulled up to the entrance, he reached for his phone and sent you a notification.

“There. Sent you money for drinks,” he said, his voice low. “Text me if you need anything. Call me when you leave.”

You glanced at your phone before looking back at him. His green eyes locked onto yours, intense and expectant, waiting for you to promise you’d do exactly as he asked.

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Thanks, ‘ren. I’ll see you later.”

He didn’t look satisfied, but he let you go, watching as you stepped out of the car and made your way toward the entrance.

Inside, the club was already packed. Music thrummed through the walls, shaking the floor beneath your heels as you moved through the crowd. Your friends spotted you before you even had a chance to search for them, waving you over with excited grins.

The night started exactly as planned—shots, music, laughter, all of it. You danced with your girlfriends in the middle of the club, letting loose, letting the alcohol warm your veins and wash away the stress. A few guys—friends of your friends from university—joined in, pairing off with the girls around you. You weren’t interested, content just dancing with them, but then—

You felt hands wrap around your waist.

You stiffened immediately, your body reacting before your mind could catch up. The touch was unwelcome, unfamiliar, and when you tried to pull away, the grip only tightened. The man behind you was drunk—too drunk to register your discomfort, too drunk to listen to your protests. You shoved at his arms, twisting in his grip. “Hey—let go.”

He didn’t.

Instead, he chuckled, slurring something incoherent into your ear as he held on tighter. Eventually, you stomped on his foot hard enough with your heel that he let go, but the damage had already been done.

Somewhere in the crowd, a camera was on.

You didn’t know who recorded it, didn’t know how it got out so fast, but somehow, the video landed in front of Eren. Some guy—one of the ones dancing with your friends—had been filming his own night, oblivious to what he was capturing in the background: you, struggling against a man who wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Eren follows that guy and by chance, viewed his story. And he saw everything.

By the time you finally ripped yourself from the stranger’s grip and rushed back to the VIP room, dragging your friends with you, your phone was already blowing up with notifications. Call after call. Message after message.

What the fuck?

Who the fuck was that?

Pick up the damn phone.

Answer me.

Your stomach churned. You sat down, fingers flying across your screen as you started typing an explanation, but no response. You sat on the couch, in distress. Your friends pried, asking what was wrong, but you played it off, painting a smile on your face. “Nothing! I’m just a little overwhelmed from all the drinks and dancing. You guys should get some more drinks, I’ll join you in a bit.”

The girls nod and make their way back to the bar. The moment the last girl leaves, your attention is back on your phone. 16 minutes have passed and still no response. You chew at your lip. You knew it was only a matter of time before his face appeared here.

And you were right.

The door to the VIP room slammed open.

Eren stormed in, his eyes locking onto yours. They were sharp, furious, burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch. You stand up to explain yourself, praying to get an explanation in before he rains hell on you.

“Eren, I didn’t—”

“Save it,” he cut you off, voice low, edged with something dangerous. “I don’t wanna fucking hear it.”

He didn’t give you a chance to argue, didn’t wait for an explanation. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you, dragging you through the club. You followed, chest tight with unease, because you knew—knew the second you got in the car, he was going to explode.

But the universe had other plans.

Before you could reach the exit, a body stumbled into Eren’s path, swaying with the weight of too much alcohol and poor decisions.

It was him.

The same guy from before. The same hands that had grabbed at you, the same slurred voice that had whispered too close to your ear. His eyes were glazed over, unfocused, but the smirk he wore was clear as day. He was saying something, words too muddled to make out over the bass of the music, but whatever it was—Eren understood. His shoulders tensed, jaw locking so tightly it looked like it might snap. You barely had time to react, to process the moment, before—

Crack.

The first punch landed so fast, so brutally, you almost didn’t register what had happened. The guy’s head snapped to the side, his body crumbling beneath the force of Eren’s knuckles meeting his jaw. A choked grunt left his lips as he staggered back, crashing into a nearby table, sending glasses and bottles tumbling to the floor in a shatter of glass and spilled liquor.

Gasps rippled through the club. The air shifted, charged with electricity, the weight of too many eyes turning to watch the scene unfold.

But Eren wasn’t finished.

He was on him before the guy could even think about recovering. Grabbing the front of his shirt, he yanked him forward, then sent another devastating punch across his face, knuckles colliding with bone. The guy groaned, his head snapping back with the impact, but Eren didn’t stop. His rage was relentless, a force of nature that had no intention of slowing down.

Another punch. Then another.

The force of each hit sent dull, sickening thuds reverberating through the air. Blood smeared across Eren’s knuckles, staining his skin as his breathing grew heavier, more ragged.

“Eren,” you gasped, reaching out instinctively, but he wasn’t listening.

He couldn’t hear anything over the white-hot fury roaring in his ears.

The guy was barely putting up a fight, too drunk and dazed to do anything but weakly raise his hands in a feeble attempt to block the blows. But Eren didn’t care. He just kept going, pinning him to the floor with his weight, his fist drawing back once more—

Until strong arms wrapped around him from behind. The bouncer.

It took everything in him to haul Eren off, muscles straining as he pried him away from the bloodied, barely conscious man beneath him.

“Enough, man! That’s enough!” the bouncer barked, struggling to keep a firm hold as Eren thrashed against his grip.

The guy’s friends rushed to his side, helping him up, but he could barely stand, his legs wobbling beneath him as he slumped into their arms. Blood dripped from his nose, from the corner of his mouth, smearing across his cheek in messy streaks.

You swallow hard, the weight of a hundred eyes pressing into your back as you force your legs to move. Shame coils in your stomach, heavy and suffocating, burning hotter with every step you take toward the exit. You don’t need to turn around to know your friends are still watching—silent, wide-eyed, exchanging looks you can’t bring yourself to decipher.

You just keep walking, head low, body tense, each step dragging under the weight of everything that just happened. The pulsing beat of the club feels like it’s mocking you now, a steady thrum against your ribs as you push past the crowd, past the mess Eren left behind, past the whispers and the stares. The moment you step outside, the cool night air hits you like a slap to the face.

Eren stands a few feet away, back against the wall, shoulders still rising and falling with the remnants of adrenaline surging through his veins. The bouncer is in front of him, speaking low, one hand raised in an attempt to keep him grounded, to keep him from snapping again.

Eren doesn’t look like he’s listening.

His hands are still clenched at his sides, blood smeared across his knuckles, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He’s seething, barely restrained, like a live wire just waiting to spark. You hesitate for a second, nerves twisting in your gut, but then you take a deep breath and step forward. The gravel crunches beneath your heels, and at the sound, Eren’s head snaps up.

His eyes find yours instantly.

And just like that, the bouncer’s words fade into the background. Whatever thin thread of patience was keeping Eren in place? Gone.

He pushes off the wall, rising to his full height, and you swear the air shifts. The tension is palpable, thick and suffocating as he takes a step toward you. His expression is unreadable—stormy, dangerous, still brimming with barely restrained fury.

You open your mouth, not even sure what you’re going to say, but you don’t get the chance to speak.

“Let’s go.”

His voice is rough, tight, leaving no room for argument. There’s no question of whether or not you’ll follow him. It’s a command, plain and simple.

Then he turns, not waiting for a response, and starts walking toward the car—expecting you to do the only thing you can.

Follow.

But you don’t.

Not after what you just saw.

Your body refuses to obey, frozen in place as a cold, creeping realization sinks into your bones. Eren takes a few more steps, fully expecting you to fall in line like you always do—but when he doesn’t hear the familiar rhythm of your heels clicking against the pavement behind him, he stops.

Slowly, he turns, and that’s when he sees it.

The look in your eyes.

It’s not anger. It’s not disappointment. It’s something far worse.

Fear.

His chest tightens, the breath leaving his lungs in a slow, staggering exhale.

Eren’s seen you upset before. He’s seen you roll your eyes at him, huff in frustration when he’s being stubborn, even cry when things got too overwhelming. But never—not once—has he seen you look at him like this. Like you don’t recognize him. Like you’re not sure if it’s safe to be near him.

A sharp, ugly pang of regret twists in his gut. His fingers flex at his sides, still smeared with the remnants of his outburst. He doesn’t even remember throwing that first punch—doesn’t remember the decision, just the impact, just the raw, unchecked fury that swallowed him whole the second he saw that guy put his hands on you.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The club doors swing open behind you, breaking the suffocating silence.

“Don’t.”

Your friend’s voice is sharp with concern, and then she’s right there beside you, eyes scanning your face before snapping to Eren. Her grip on your arm tightens slightly, grounding you.

“She’s not going with you,” she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Eren’s jaw tenses. His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, but he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t look at her. He only looks at you.

Waiting. Pleading. Silently praying for you to tell her she’s wrong. That you’re still his. That you’re coming home with him.

Your friend gently pulls you closer, lowering her voice as she leans in. “Stay with us. Stay with me,” she urges. “You know you’re more than welcome to.”

You hesitate, one last glance at Eren, but the answer is already clear. You nod.

That’s all it takes.

Your other friends begin trickling out of the club, surrounding you in a quiet show of support. And Eren—Eren just stands there, watching it all unfold. Watching as you choose to stay. Watching as the space between you stretches wider and wider, until it feels impossible to cross.

Your heart pounds against your ribs, and for the first time tonight, you feel the weight of everything settle over you. You don’t want to get in that car. You don’t want to sit in silence while he stews in his anger. You don’t want to go home with a version of Eren you don’t recognize.

Something in Eren’s face cracks. It’s small, barely noticeable to anyone else, but you see it. You see the way his brows pinch together, the brief flicker of pain behind his eyes before he locks it all away.

Eren exhales through his nose, dragging a hand down his face. He nods once, more to himself than anyone else.

And then, without another word, he turns and walks away.

You don’t watch him go. You can’t.

Because deep down, you know.

That was the end of you and Eren.

—

The first month without Eren felt like a drug withdrawal.

Your friends had to step in, blocking his number on your phone because they knew you wouldn’t. They were the ones who went back to your shared apartment, packing up your things and returning them to you in silent understanding—because if it had been up to you, you would have walked through that door and never left.

You weren’t strong enough to face him. To see the place where your life with him once existed.

So you let them handle it.

And in the weeks that followed, it felt like you cried enough tears to drown in.

Everything felt hollow. Your bed, too big. Your room, too quiet. Your days, a haze of exhaustion that you couldn’t shake, no matter how much sleep you got—though sleep rarely came easy. Your body ached for something familiar, something warm, something safe. But the only thing that had ever felt like home was the very thing you had to stay away from.

Eren.

Your friends were your lifeline, your anchor in the storm that threatened to pull you under. They kept you moving, kept you functioning. They took turns staying over, making sure you ate, helping you through assignments when even the simplest tasks felt impossible. They covered for you in class, took notes, did everything they could to make sure you didn’t fall apart completely.

Because you couldn’t face campus.

Not when you knew he was there.

So you hid.

You spent hours in the library, surrounded by books, teaching yourself the material from the safety of quiet corners where you knew he wouldn’t find you. Where no one would look at you with pity or whisper about what happened. Where you could pretend, just for a little while, that you were fine.

But the second month was different.

The second month, you forced yourself to return to class.

And the very first lecture you walked into—he was there.

Your heart lurched before you could stop it, the reaction so deeply ingrained that it disgusted you. Because even after everything, even after what he did, some part of you still longed for him.

But you didn’t let yourself look at him.

You didn’t need to.

You felt his eyes on you the second you walked through the door.

He was waiting for you.

You knew it before you even sat down. Before you even heard from your friends that he had been asking about you. That he had been the one sending them notes, making sure you didn’t fall behind. That he had been looking for you, searching for any trace of you on campus.

You didn’t know any of that then.

All you knew was that you couldn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging him.

So you took a seat on the opposite side of the lecture hall, your posture rigid, your focus locked on the professor, even as you felt the weight of his stare.

Unfortunately, avoiding him wasn’t as easy as you hoped. You had chosen your classes together, planned your schedules to align—because, back then, you had never considered a world where you wouldn’t be by each other’s side.

And now, you were paying the price.

He was in most of your classes. Which meant he was always there. Always watching.

Never approaching.

Just watching.

Sometimes he would get distracted, pulled into conversation with his friends, and you would take the opportunity to slip out unnoticed. But most of the time, you had to move. Had to find new places to sit, new spots to claim as your own. Because he had taken over the one you used to share, as if holding onto it would somehow bring you back.

But it never did. Because you knew better now.

You reminded yourself every single day that Eren was bad for you. That you left for a reason. That no matter how much you missed him, no matter how much his absence burned, going back would only mean getting hurt all over again.

And you wouldn’t survive it a second time.

By the third month, you were starting to feel like yourself again.

The ache in your chest was still there, but it was duller now—less consuming. There were even days when Eren didn’t cross your mind at all. Small, fleeting moments where you were too busy laughing with friends, too immersed in your coursework, too wrapped up in your own life to remember the ghost of what used to be.

You had caught up with all your class material, no longer drowning under the weight of everything you had missed. You even started going out again, slowly reclaiming the pieces of yourself you had lost along the way.

But parties were different.

Parties meant a high probability of running into him.

And you weren’t sure you were ready for that.

The first time your friends convinced you to go out, you had braced yourself for it—for the possibility of seeing him across the room, for the way it might send you spiraling. But he wasn’t there. Or if he was, he stayed buried in the crowd, out of your sight, allowing you to actually enjoy yourself for the first time in months.

You had smiled that night. Laughed. Felt alive in a way you hadn’t in so long that your friends took notice.

Which was exactly how you ended up here.

“I don’t know… I really don’t wanna go,” you sigh, flopping onto your bed as your best friend digs through your closet. “He’s going to be there. I know it.”

She rolls her eyes, unfazed. “And? You can’t let Eren stop you from living your life.” She turns, leveling you with a look. “You’re bound to see him at graduation. What, are you gonna skip that too just because he’ll be there?”

You glare. She has a point, but you don’t want to admit it.

“I just don’t see why we have to go to this party,” you argue, grasping at straws. “It’s a frat party for the football team’s season finale win. Eren is the quarterback. That’s literally his event.”

“Which is exactly why you should go,” she counters. “Show him you don’t care. Show him you’ve moved on.”

You scoff, unconvinced.

She sighs, dramatic and exasperated. “Besides,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows, “that cute guy from Kirstein’s party—Porco, right?—he’s gonna be there. Maybe you two can finally hit it off.”

Your stomach twists, and you don’t know if it’s from nerves or uncertainty.

You hesitate.

Because deep down, you know she’s right.

You’ve spent the last three months avoiding Eren, avoiding anything that might put you in his orbit again. But that fear has kept you from actually living, from moving forward, from proving to yourself that you can be okay without him.

And you want to be okay.

So you exhale, pushing past the doubts clawing at the back of your mind.

“Fine,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “But if it sucks, I’m leaving early.”

Your best friend grins, victorious. “Deal.”

—

You step into the crowded frat house, the noise and chaos of the party immediately hitting you. The sharp stench of alcohol, weed, and sweat clings to the air, mixing with the heavy bass of the music that rattles the walls. It’s so loud, your ears ache, and the vibrations almost drown out your own thoughts. People are packed into every corner, some stumbling around in drunken oblivion, others caught up in their own heated conversations, laughing and shouting to be heard.

Your friends immediately vanish into the mass of bodies, their laughter and voices lost in the tide of noise. You can barely catch a glimpse of their heads as they weave through the crowd. You sigh, already feeling the weight of isolation. You should’ve pregamed, should’ve had a drink or two to take the edge off, but you figured you’d be alright. Now you curse to yourself.

The feeling of being an outsider gnaws at you as you weave your way toward the back of the house, looking for some reprieve from the madness. The music seems slightly quieter in the corner, the people fewer and farther between. You make your way to the counter, pouring yourself a crappy, sour concoction. It’s just something to occupy your hands, something to take your mind off the fact that you're surrounded by a sea of people, yet feel utterly alone.

You lean against the counter awkwardly, your fingers tapping the rim of your cup as you survey the scene. The longer you stand there, the more you realize how much you wish you didn’t feel so out of place. It’s supposed to be fun, right? You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself, yet all you can think about is what’s happening on the other side of the room.

And then you see him.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart skips a beat. His green eyes find yours almost immediately, locking with yours from across the room, and for a moment, the noise of the party seems to fade. It’s just you and him, that intense, familiar gaze burning into you. Your stomach flutters, your pulse quickening as you instinctively look away, embarrassed by the sheer weight of his stare. But even as you force yourself to focus on anything but him, your brain locks the image of him in that moment in a way that feels almost intrusive. You can’t unsee it.

There he is, sitting on a couch, looking effortlessly handsome as always. His friends are scattered around him, but it’s the girls that draw your attention. They’re all over him, leaning into him, touching his arm or laughing too loudly at everything he says. Their eyes are bright, eager, like they’re competing for his attention. The sight makes your chest tighten in an unfamiliar, raw way. You hate it. You hate how your stomach twists in jealousy, how your pulse spikes as you watch them cling to him, as if they’re the ones who belong there, the ones who get to be close to him.

It’s ridiculous.

You have no right to feel this way, but there it is. The jealousy. The sharp, bitter ache in your chest.

Eren, oblivious or maybe not, remains relaxed, his attention still half on the crowd and half on whatever conversation his friends are having. A beer bottle rests lazily in his hand, and yet you can’t help but feel that he’s watching you too. Noticing you. It’s like he’s waiting for you to react, to do something, anything, just so he can watch you squirm.

So, you decide to play his game. If he’s having fun, then why shouldn’t you? The burn of his gaze on your back is unbearable, but you’re not about to let it control you. You clutch your drink a little too tightly and step toward the nearest guy—a random face you don’t even recognize. Without hesitating, you drag him to the dance floor, your body moving to the beat of the music as it blares in your ears.

The guy seems more than happy to comply, his hands moving almost immediately to your waist as you both start dancing. You can feel his eyes on you, a heat that sears through the crowd, but you refuse to give in. You tilt your head back, letting out a laugh at whatever nonsense the guy is saying, letting the music drown out the weight of Eren’s presence. You want him to see. You want him to feel the sting of watching you, of knowing he has no claim on you anymore.

The night carries on, and so does the game. You're all over the place, hopping from one group to the next—dancing with the guy, laughing with your friends, joining in on a game of beer pong. You’re doing everything you can to avoid Eren. When you make your way down to the basement for beer pong, you know before even turning around that he’s there. Right behind you, close enough that you catch the faintest trace of his cologne beneath the scent of alcohol and sweat. And because he’s there, so is everyone else. A crowd follows, drawn in by him like gravity, but you don’t care.

You don’t acknowledge him. You don’t spare him even a glance. Instead, you make it your mission to rub it in his face.

Beer pong used to be your thing. You and Eren were practically unbeatable. But tonight, you’re not teaming up with him. You find a random guy and start the game with him, your laughter filling the air as you take your shots. The game ends, and you lose—your partner was terrible, after all. But it didn’t matter because you were having fun.

Even though the guy was terrible at beer pong and completely clueless, there was something undeniably cute about him. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you, like he was captivated, and the more you chatted, the more it seemed like he was genuinely into you. Honestly, it wasn’t the worst thing. He was easy to talk to, lighthearted, and in the moment, you found yourself enjoying the attention.

You stepped outside for a break, finding a chair near the backyard to cool off. The chill air did wonders against the heat of the party, and for a brief moment, you let yourself enjoy the solitude.

Of course, the rando followed. He sat down beside you, leaning back casually, his presence comfortable in a way that didn’t feel forced. You had a casual conversation—mostly about the party, how much fun you were having—but you could tell where this was going. His eyes had a certain gleam, the kind that made your stomach flip with unease but also something else—something more promiscuous.

Then, just as you were about to stand and go back inside, he leaned in closer, his voice low and smooth as he whispered, “Wanna get out of here?”

You almost said yes. Almost.

But before you could respond, a strong hand wrapped around your arm and yanked you to your feet. The sudden force took you off guard, your body jerked backward, and you barely had time to blink before you were being dragged back into the house. You glanced up, heart sinking, and sure enough, it was Eren. His grip tightened around your arm, pulling you through the crowd like you didn’t have a say in the matter.

You tried to break free, your heels digging into the floor, but it was useless—Eren’s hold was ironclad. He didn’t give you a chance to fight back, leading you down the hall toward the laundry room. The door creaked as he shoved it open, the dim light flickering above. Without a word, he stepped inside and pulled you after him, letting the door fall shut behind you with a quiet thud.

Your heart skipped, irritation flooding your chest as you pulled against him. “What the fuck is your problem?” you snapped, voice trembling with a mix of anger and confusion.

He didn’t even flinch. He stepped closer, his presence looming over you, dominating. His jaw was tight, clenched in frustration, eyes darker than you’d ever seen. You could practically feel the heat radiating off him.

"You are my fucking problem," he growled, his voice like gravel, rough and unforgiving.

The air between you two thickened, suffocating. He was close—way too close—his chest brushing yours, his breath heavy with alcohol and desperation. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the space between you, and it hit you harder than you expected. You tried to ignore it, but it made your heart race.

He stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as his voice dropped lower. "You really thought I was gonna let you leave with some random asshole?"

You recoiled, your chest tightening with frustration. You fought the urge to push him away, the words already on the tip of your tongue. "It’s none of your business, Eren," you snapped, your own voice shaking with a mixture of defiance and frustration.

Eren’s lips curled into a humorless smile, but the anger in his eyes was sharper than ever. “The fuck it isn’t,” he spat, his voice filled with venom.

Your chest rises and falls as you try to steady your breathing, but it's impossible with Eren this close, the heat of his body searing through the tiny space between you. His jaw is clenched, eyes burning with something between anger and desperation.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Your voice shakes as you step back, putting distance between you. "You’re bad for me, Eren. You always have been."

His jaw tenses, hands balling into fists at his sides. "And you think you’re any fucking better for me?" He takes a step closer, eyes locked onto yours. "You think I don’t know how much we fuck each other up?"

"Then why do you keep coming back?" you demand, voice cracking despite your best efforts. "Why can’t you just let me go?"

Eren exhales sharply through his nose, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "You think I haven’t tried?" His voice is rough, wrecked. "I’ve done everything I fucking can to move on. To stop thinking about you." His hands twitch like he wants to grab you, but he forces them to stay at his sides. "But every time I try, I just end up right back here. Right back to you."

Your throat tightens, and you shake your head. "This isn’t love, Eren. It’s just something we don’t know how to quit."

He exhales sharply, jaw clenching. "Maybe I don’t want to quit." His voice is rough, ragged. "Maybe I’d rather ruin myself than live a life without you."

His words slam into you like a wrecking ball, knocking the breath from your lungs. Your mind screams at you to walk away, to end this now, but your heart betrays you. You don’t move when he presses closer, don’t push him away when his fingers finally brush against your skin.

"Tell me to leave," he breathes, lips ghosting over your jaw. "Tell me you don’t want this, and I swear to god, I’ll walk out that door and never look back."

But you don’t say a word. Because you can’t. Because you do want this.

Eren sees the answer in your silence before you do. A dark smirk ghosts over his lips, a glint of triumph flashing in those wild green eyes. "That’s what I thought."

His lips are on you before you can protest, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. The second you kiss him back, it’s over. The tension, the months of pent-up frustration, the unbearable need—you both snap. Months of anger, heartbreak—it all ignites in a way that’s so ferocious, so consuming, that your knees nearly buckle beneath you.

His hands are everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your sides, pulling you impossibly close until there’s not even an inch of space between you. You’re supposed to shove him away. You’re supposed to hate him. But when his hands slip down, fingers digging into your thighs, lifting you onto the edge of the dryer, you don’t protest. You can’t.

“Fuck, I missed this,” he breathes against your lips, his voice rough, desperate. His hands tighten around your thighs, spreading them so he can step between them, pressing himself against you. “Missed you.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, yanking him back up so you can crash your lips onto his again, swallowing the low groan he lets out as you roll your hips against him. His grip tightens—possessive, desperate—as he presses you harder against the cool metal, his body heat swallowing you whole.

“This whole time,” he mutters against your lips, voice low and wrecked, “you’ve been acting like you can move on, like you’re fucking over me.” His fingers dig into your hips, keeping you right where he wants you. “But I see you, baby. You burn for me just as much as I burn for you.”

You hate how true it is. Hate how easily he reads you.

His hands slide up your thighs, bunching up your dress, fingers teasing along the bare skin underneath. His lips are everywhere—trailing down your neck, over your collarbone, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his voice all smooth arrogance, all cocky challenge as he drags his lips back up to your ear. “Go ahead. Push me away. Walk out that door.”

Your breathing is ragged, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. You should push him away. You should leave.

But instead, you whisper, “I hate you.”

Eren smirks. “Liar.”

Then his hands are on you again, and this time, there’s no stopping it.

“Eren—” you whimper.

“Shh.” His teeth graze the side of your throat, nipping at your skin before soothing it with his tongue. His breath is hot against your ear, sending a violent shiver down your spine. “You can pretend all you want, but I know you, baby.” His hands slide higher, thumbs brushing over sensitive skin, making your breath hitch. “I know you still belong to me.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as he presses his body against yours, hips rolling forward in a slow, deliberate grind. The hard press of him makes your breath stutter, makes heat coil deep in your stomach. You arch into him as he sucks a mark onto your skin, claiming you in a way that makes your head spin.

“You gonna keep lying to me, baby?” Eren mutters, voice thick with amusement. His fingers trace slow, lazy circles over your thighs, his movements teasing, controlled.

You open your mouth to snap at him, to tell him to shut up, to stop playing games—but before you can, he grabs the thin fabric of your dress and rips. The sound of tearing cloth barely registers before his hands are on you, gripping your breast, his mouth attaching to your sensitive tit.

You gasp, fingers curling into his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist, bringing him impossibly closer. He rolls his hips into yours, pressing the full length of himself against you, a broken whimper slips past your lips.

"Feel that?" he breathes, voice thick with need. "All for you, baby."

Then his fingers finally move between your legs, brushing over your thin, damp fabric keeping him from what he really wants. His smirk deepens. "Tell me what you want. Beg for it."

Your breath stutters. He’s playing with you, dragging this out just to watch you fall apart. You hate him. You hate how good he is at this—how he knows exactly what to say, exactly how to touch you to make you melt.

But you’re not giving in that easily.

“Fuck you,” you snap, but it comes out shaky, breathless—less of a threat and more of a plea.

Eren grins, like he’s thriving off your frustration, like it only makes this better for him.

“Oh, you will,” he purrs, dragging his lips down your jaw, your throat, sucking another mark onto your skin like he wants it tattooed there. His teeth graze your pulse, and you can’t stop the way your body jerks toward him.

“Fuck,” he groans, pressing his forehead against yours for just a second, his grip tightening. “Look at you.” His fingers press against the wet spot, slow and teasing, and you whimper. His favorite sound. “So fucking wet for me, and you wanna sit here and tell me you hate me?”

You bite your lip hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

But then he hooks a finger under the waistband of your panties, pulling it down, and fuck—

“You’re soaked, baby,” Eren moans like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, his head tipping back, his fingers barely dipping into your heat. “God, I fucking knew it.”

Your body betrays you, bucking against his hand, and Eren laughs.

“There she is,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your ear as he slowly, slowly drags his fingers up your slick folds. “Knew you’d stop pretending eventually.”

You should tell him to shut up. You should shove him away.

But when two fingers slip inside you, curling just right, pressing against that spot that makes you see stars–

All you can do is moan his name.

And Eren loses it.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, lips crashing into yours again, swallowing every sound you make. His fingers fuck into you, deep and slow, his palm rubbing against your clit just enough to make you tremble. Your hands claw at his shoulders, your head falling back against the dryer as he works you open, stretching you out with his fingers, his mouth kissing your pretty titties before trailing down to your belly button. You’re falling apart, barely holding on, your whole body trembling, burning.

And Eren knows it. Feels it.

“That’s right, baby,” he whispers, voice thick, lips dragging back up so he can see your face as his fingers fuck into you harder, deeper. “Cum for me.”

And you do.

Your body shatters, waves of pleasure crashing over you so violently you think you might black out. Eren groans as you clench around his fingers, watching every second of it with hooded, hungry eyes, like he’s memorizing the way you come undone for him.

“Fuck, that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he breathes, his free hand cupping your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he drags you through it, fucking you with his fingers until you’re shaking, whimpering, completely wrecked.

Then—without breaking eye contact—he pulls his fingers out, glistening with your release, and licks them clean.

Your whole body burns at the sight.

Eren groans, closing his eyes briefly before he looks at you again, smirking. “Goddamn. You taste even better than I remember.”

You’re still gasping for air when his hands grab your thighs, pulling you flush against him again.

“My turn, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with need. He grinds against you, and fuck—he’s so hard it makes your mouth go dry. “This is what you do to me.”

Your head is still spinning, but when you feel him reach for his belt, your heart beats faster. Eren’s belt hits the floor and your whole body tenses, every nerve ending on fire. Your thighs are still shaking from your last orgasm, but Eren—cocky and relentless—grins down at you like he’s just getting started.

“We both know you’re not leaving until I’ve fucked you so good you forget why you left me in the first place.”

You don’t get a chance to argue because suddenly his hands are gripping your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the dryer, forcing your legs wide open. And then—fuck—he’s pushing inside, and your brain short-circuits.

You can’t think. You can’t breathe. You can’t do anything but gasp as Eren buries himself inside you, slow and deep, stretching you in a way that has your head tipping back, your fingers clawing at his shoulders.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eren groans, his forehead dropping to yours, his hands digging into your waist like he’s losing his mind. “Still so fucking tight.” Your breath stutters. Your legs tremble. And then Eren pulls out just to slam back in, knocking the air straight from your lungs.

Your nails dig into his skin, and Eren grins like he loves it. “Yeah? Feels good?” he pants, dragging his lips down your throat, sucking another mark into your skin. “Tell me, baby.” You can’t form words. Can’t do anything but whimper, moan, cling to him like you’ll fall apart if he stops.

Eren fucking thrives off it.

“C’mon, use that pretty mouth, sweetheart,” he taunts, rolling his hips in a way that has your whole body convulsing. “Tell me how much you fucking love this.”

You want to fight it. You want to bite back.

But then he grinds deep, his fingers brutal on your thighs, and—fuck—you break.

“So fucking good,” you gasp, damn near crying as your head tips back, giving yourself over to him completely. “Eren, please.”

Eren’s groan is animalistic, his grip tightening as he picks up the pace, snapping his hips into you over and over, fucking you so deep you see white. “Yeah? Missed this cock that much?” he growls, his teeth grazing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Missed me that much?”

Your whole body shudders because—fuck—you did. You hate how much you did. Eren knows.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, grabbing your jaw, forcing your teary, fucked-out gaze on him. “You can’t stay away from me, baby. You never could.”

His thumb brushes your lips, and without thinking, you part them, sucking it into your mouth, letting your tongue flick over the tip. Eren’s breath stutters. “Fuck,” he chokes out, his body trembling against yours as he watches you. “You’re gonna fucking kill me.”

You smirk, flicking your tongue against his thumb again, and Eren snaps. His pace turns brutal, desperate, unhinged, his grip bruising as he drives himself deeper, harder, faster, like he’s trying to ruin you. Like he’s trying to make sure you never forget who you belong to.

“Not letting you go again,” he pants against your lips, each word punctuated by a sharp, punishing thrust. “Not fucking happening.” The dryer beneath you shakes, slamming against the wall by the force of his thrusts. You break around him, legs trembling, body shaking, a sob of pleasure ripping from your throat.

Eren follows seconds later, burying himself as deep as he can groaning, “fuck, m’gonna breed this fucking pussy. Make you all round and full with my kid. Bet you’d fucking love that shit.” He bites down on your ear, his whole body tensing as he spills inside you.

And even then, even when he’s breathless and spent, he doesn’t let go.

His arms stay wrapped around you, his lips press against your forehead, his breath warm and heavy against your skin.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, softer now, rough fingers tracing lazy patterns into your back. “Always have been.” And this time, you don’t argue. Because fuck, you know it’s true.

You look up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and for a brief moment, you let yourself savor the feeling of being close to him again. But that moment is short lived. His mouth crashes onto yours once more, swallowing any protest, any resistance. You whine against him, the sensitivity of your body only driving him further.

Without warning, he thrusts back into you—hard, deep—your gasp echoing through the room. Your nails dig into his back, and his body presses against yours, moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if savoring every inch of you. You can feel the muscle in his body, each movement setting fire to your senses.

The stretch is almost too much, overwhelming in the best way, and you can't help but chant his name, your body trembling beneath him. It feels like too much, but at the same time, you crave more. God, the way he makes you feel, you can’t fucking deny it anymore.

Eren pulls back for a second, his breathing ragged, and looks at you, his eyes filled with hunger. “Say it. Say you need me, say you fucking belong to me.” His voice is rough, almost begging, but not quite. It’s a demand wrapped in raw desire.

“I need you,” you gasp, your head thrown back, lost in the feel of him inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots. “I belong to you.” The words come out in a breathless rush, and it feels like every part of you is finally breaking apart—letting go.

His grin is triumphant, dark, like he’s just won something, but he doesn’t slow down. No, he’s persistent. His thrusts are harder, faster, making your body jerk against the dryer, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the confined space of the laundry room.

“You’ll never get away from me again,” Eren growls, his grip tightening on your thighs, pushing you up against him harder. “I’m not letting you leave. Not this time.”

You can’t answer. The words are lost in the swirl of sensations, the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. But when you feel yourself about to break, when your body tightens and your heart skips a beat, you know the end is near.

“Eren, I can’t—” you try to warn him, but it’s too late. You’re spiraling.

And then, he moves faster—deeper—pushing you over the edge. You explode around him, your entire body shaking as you scream his name, clinging to him like he’s the only thing that keeps you tethered to the ground.

He follows shortly after, his own release deep inside you, his body shuddering with the force of it. He collapses against you, his forehead resting on yours, both of you gasping for breath, tangled together in a mess of sweat and desire.

For a few moments, neither of you moves. The only sound filling the quiet room is your heavy breathing and the slow, steady hum of the dryer spinning behind you. Eren shifts, pulling you up against him, and you can feel his warmth as he wraps his arms around you. He grabs a shirt, handing it to you, and you pull it on before he tugs you back against his chest.

There’s an elephant in the room, and you don’t fight it. You can’t stop yourself from saying, “Eren, we can’t just pretend this is...”

He cuts you off before you can finish. "I know. I'm getting help."

Silence fills the space between you, the weight of his words settling around you like a heavy fog. Then he speaks again, voice raw, vulnerable.

“The night we broke up, the look in your eyes... it haunts me every single day. You were scared of me. And all I wanted to do was protect you. When that happened, I knew I needed help. And fuck, I’m so sorry.”

He holds you tighter, burying his face in your hair. It’s rare for Eren to be this open, this vulnerable with you. The only other time he’d ever let his walls down like this was when he found out about his dad’s affair. He’d taken it hard, and all he wanted was for you to hold him, console him. And that’s what you did.

“I’ve been going to therapy. I bottled up all my emotions, and the shit with my dad sent me into a spiral. I saw what it did to my mom, how it affected her, and I started thinking if I controlled you, you wouldn’t hurt me like that. Now, when I think back, I realize how fucking dumb that was. You’re everything to me. So precious, and I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

He pauses, his voice shaking slightly as he continues. "But I did. I pushed you away, and I was out of my fucking mind. I get it if you don’t want to jump right back into this, but... with time, could you give me another chance?"

You look up into his eyes, your thumb brushing away the tears that streak down his face. Your heart aches seeing him so vulnerable.

“I’m sorry you had to go through this alone, Eren," you whisper softly. "I wish you’d let me be there for you.”

He shakes his head, pulling you closer, his hands trembling. "Don’t apologize. This is all on me. I just… I can’t fucking lose you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

“You’re not losing me," you say, your voice firm but full of tenderness, trying to calm him down and reassure him. Eren stares at you for a moment, his lips parting slightly before he breathes out, barely a whisper, “I love you.” Your heart stutters in your chest, the words you've been longing to hear for these last few months. You lean in, your forehead resting against his as you whisper back, “I love you too. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

#eren angst #eren jeager x reader #eren x you #eren smut #eren aot #eren x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger #aot x you #aot angst #aot x reader #aot smut #eren yeager smut #eren yeager x you #eren yeager x reader #tw: toxic relationships #tw angst #fic: Yours to Break.

460 notes · View notes

solxamber · 5 months ago

Note

Can I get the dorm leaders with an Miku like Male Reader? Basically, (M/N) is super carefree and nice along with being a megastar idol in the music industry.

miku mentioned in the inbox, i've prayed for times like these!! It turned out gender neutral, i hope you don't mind!

Housewardens with a Miku! Reader

Riddle Rosehearts

At first, Riddle is baffled by your carefree attitude. You’re so nonchalant about everything, from your fame to the massive crowds you draw, that it’s almost incomprehensible to him. Doesn’t someone as successful as you need structure and discipline?

He respects your talent and hard work (once he understands how much effort goes into your performances), but your breezy approach makes him a little anxious. He might even lecture you about maintaining a schedule or not overextending yourself.

Your kindness and lack of ego eventually win him over. When you casually serenade the Heartslabyul students with a cheerful tune during an unbirthday party, even Riddle can’t help but smile.

If you invite him to one of your concerts, he’ll first attend out of courtesy but secretly marvel at the sheer joy you bring to your fans. Seeing you on stage makes him realize that your carefree demeanor isn’t laziness—it’s part of your charm.

He’d quietly admire your ability to bring happiness to others and might even ask for advice on how to better connect with his dormmates.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona initially pretends not to care about your fame or talent. He’s not easily impressed, and your cheerful energy feels a little too much for his laid-back personality.

However, your carefree attitude intrigues him. You’re a megastar, yet you don’t flaunt it or demand special treatment. In fact, you treat him like any other person, and he respects that.

He might grumble about your music being “too loud” or “too cheerful,” but he secretly listens to your songs when he’s alone. The upbeat tunes remind him of a world where things don’t feel so heavy.

If you casually hum a melody around him, he might mumble, “Tch, not bad,” which is as close to a compliment as you’ll get.

He won’t admit it, but he’d feel a sense of pride if you dedicate a song to Savanaclaw or include elements of his culture in your performances.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul sees you as a walking business opportunity at first. You’re a megastar with an enormous following, and the possibilities for collaboration are endless. Maybe a performance at the Mostro Lounge? A merchandise line?

When he realizes you’re too carefree to be manipulated, he’s equal parts frustrated and impressed. Despite his schemes, you remain kind and genuine, treating him as a friend rather than a business partner.

Your performances leave him in awe. He’s astonished by how effortlessly you captivate an audience, and he finds himself studying your stage presence, wondering if he could apply some of your charisma to his own endeavors.

Azul would eventually see you as a source of inspiration. “How do you make it look so easy?” he might ask, genuinely curious.

You’d be able to encourage him to focus less on overthinking and more on enjoying the process, which is advice he’d reluctantly take to heart.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim immediately becomes your biggest fan. He’s already jumping up and down with excitement before you’ve even sung a note.

Your carefree and kind personality resonates with him deeply, and the two of you become fast friends. Kalim loves joining you in impromptu sing-alongs, whether it’s on stage or during casual moments in the dorm.

He’d insist on throwing grand parties to celebrate your success, complete with fireworks and extravagant decorations. “Your music deserves to be celebrated!” he’d say with a big grin.

Kalim admires how you make people happy through your music, and he’d try to emulate your positivity in his own interactions. He’d also want to learn some dance moves from you, even if he ends up tripping over his own feet.

Your presence brings out the best in Kalim, and he feels inspired to spread joy in his own way.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is immediately aware of your status as a megastar and views you as a peer rather than a fan. He respects your success but is critical of your carefree attitude, wondering how you maintain such a polished image without a rigorous routine.

Your kindness and humility eventually disarm him. He appreciates that you don’t let fame go to your head and that you treat everyone with equal respect.

Vil might critique your performances at first, offering advice on how to improve your stage presence or vocal technique. However, he’s secretly impressed by how natural and effortless you make it all look.

He’d be a little envious of your ability to connect with your audience so easily, but he’d also feel motivated to push himself harder. “You have a gift,” he’d admit one day. “Don’t waste it.”

If you ever feel overwhelmed by the pressures of stardom, Vil would offer you surprisingly empathetic advice, drawing from his own experiences in the spotlight.

Idia Shroud

Idia is a fan before he even meets you. He’s watched all your music videos, memorized your lyrics, and even owns some limited-edition merchandise. However, meeting you in person is a completely different story.

He’s a nervous wreck, fumbling over his words and avoiding eye contact. “Y-You’re… amazing,” he might mumble, his face bright red.

Your carefree attitude puts him at ease, and he eventually opens up about his admiration for your work. He might even share some of his own ideas for collaborations.

Idia is amazed by how effortlessly you handle fame and social situations. He secretly wishes he could be as confident and outgoing as you.

If you ever perform in the Ignihyde dorm, he’d watch from the shadows, feeling a mix of awe and disbelief that someone as incredible as you considers him a friend.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is intrigued by your carefree demeanor and megastar status. He’s used to people being intimidated by him, but you treat him with kindness and warmth, which he deeply appreciates.

He’s fascinated by your music and often listens to your performances in quiet awe. He’d describe your songs as “enchanting” and might even compare you to a bard of old.

Your kindness and positivity resonate with him, and he enjoys spending time with you, whether it’s walking through the campus or sharing stories late at night.

Malleus might request a private performance, not because he wants special treatment, but because he wants to experience the magic of your music in an intimate setting.

Your carefree attitude inspires Malleus to relax and enjoy life more. He values your friendship and sees you as a source of light in his otherwise lonely world.

Masterlist

693 notes · View notes

kisseobie · 1 year ago

Note

piwon’s reaction to reader squirting? 🫠

p1harmony reacting to making you squirt

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: nsfw (mdni)

tags: unprotected sex (don’t do this lolz), cunnilingus (fem. receiving), crying, squirting (duh), rough sex, degradation, spanking, fingering, masturbation, mentions of piss, corruption, i think that’s the bulk of it?

a/n: apparently user kisseobie is the biggest whore on the planet bc i started writing this the minute i saw the notification in my inbox.. i couldn’t help myself from doing full fledged reactions sorry …. also i believe in pussy slapping keeho supremacy .. also don’t ask why i wrote so much i wasn’t planning on it….

❤︎ keeho

the two of you are sat on the soft carpet of keeho’s bedroom, your bare back pressed up against his clothed chest. your boyfriend has one hand tightly holding your face in place, forcing you to stare at the mirror in front of you and watch as his other hand descends between your thighs. his rough fingers gather your slick and you mewl in response, to which he gently pushes his fingers into your cunt. he may be an attentive lover, but he’s not the most patient, and his rigorous pace of fucking his digits into you is almost immediate, causing you to whine and thrash against him. “mm kyo, ‘s too much!” is the only coherent sentence you can get out of yourself as keeho ignores your pleas to slow down, only quickening the pace of his fingers moving in and out of your pussy. your eyes screw shut as your boyfriend’s hot breath hits your right ear, and with his mouth so close to your face, you can properly hear his quiet grunts and curses, the only indication that he’s not nearly as composed as he’s attempting to seem. when he notices that your eyes aren’t on your reflection anymore, he gives your clit a firm spank that makes you scream and jolt in surprise. “fuckkkkkk, no more p-please i can’t take it!!” you squeal, eyes shutting once again, partly because keeho’s assault on your pussy is salivating, and partly because your humiliated, humiliated that he’s capable of forcing you into submission so quickly, and how you sit in front of him fully naked while your boyfriend watches you, fully clothed and composed.

you can’t stop shaking and sobbing against him. he eventually lets you lay your head back on his shoulder as the pleasure becomes overwhelming, but his fingers never still. “look at you,” he coos, “haven’t even stuffed you with my dick yet and you’re drooling all over yourself. you’re so fucking nasty y/n” he taunts, only egging himself on with every insult. if you ignore his command to look at yourself, he once again grabs your chin and forces you to, laughing under his breath at your tears and dumbed out expression as you try your best to listen to your boyfriend’s next words. “need you to come for me, can you do that angel? you gonna cum around my fingers? gonna make a mess all over me?” he sweetly asks you, a heavy contrast to the pad of thumb currently drawing circles into your puffy clit. you can only nod in reply, feeling a more intense orgasm bubbling in your tummy and before you can warn him, keeho lands another slap against your mound that pushes you over the edge. you’re floating, vision white and toes curled as you writhe against kyo’s fingers. minutes pass by and you finally come back to your senses, feeling keeho laying pecks all across your bare shoulders as you slump into him, and that’s when you notice that there are spritz and drops of what seems to be liquid on keeho’s mirror, pooled on the carpet below you, and scattered across the smooth skin of your thighs. you can hear keeho’s heavy pants, and when you turn to apologize for the mess you’ve made, your words get stuck in your threat as you realize that your boyfriend didn’t mind one bit, quite the opposite actually. he’s on top of you in seconds, laying your back against the now damp carpet as he stares at you with a wild, lust-driven look on his face.

“think i can make you squirt around my cock next, pretty?”

“wait kyo! won’t fit, it won’t fit!” is your reply, but do you really think he gives a care in the world? he’ll make it fit, and he’ll draw those waves out from you until you’re both spent and soaked in your sweet juices <3

❤︎ theo

“wait so you’ve never..?”

“nope. i don’t think every girl can”

it started with an unserious conversation about your personal sexual experiences, a topic your new boyfriend was very curious about. for the most part, the atmosphere was lighthearted as you and theo took turns interrogating eachother, but a specific question asked by your boyfriend leads to you admitting that a guy has never made you squirt, much less orgasm before, to which theo shakes his head in denial. he’s hesitant to believe you, half anticipating you to laugh it off and tell him you were just joking. however, when you meet his quizzical look with a blank stare, his mind starts to drift to more dangerous depths. always competitive in nature, taeyang takes your underwhelming sexual past as a challenge, and his demeanor shifts to one consumed by lust within seconds. he suddenly wants to show you everything, wants you to feel better than you’ve ever felt before, wants to mark you as his and become the only boy you could ever desire.

an hour later, he has you bouncing on and creaming his cock, giving you your third orgasm of the night. shows you all he has to offer, from his skillful fingers and tongue, to his massive dick that fills you up so well, so well that a bulge appears in your tummy. he’s addicted to your taste, your moans, your begs, and fucks you so good that it’s almost unbelievable that this is your first time together. slaps your ass and gropes your tits like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. not only is taeyang ridiculously good at sex, he’s also got the dirtiest mouth on him. can’t stop the expletives and praises dripping off his tongue like honey, telling you things like “so tiny, you sure this isn’t your first time sweetheart? if my fingers can’t fit, how are you gonna take my cock, hm?”. is borderline snarling everytime you gasp at a new sensation, and he knows right away that he’s got you hooked. your willingness to take whatever he gives you unlocks a corruption kink in him that he didn’t know was there. obsessed with the way that everytime he pulls out, your hips move on their own to chase the feeling of him filling you up again. you have such cute reactions to everything he’s giving to you, but his favorite by far is your begs for him to fuck you deeper, harder, fill you up with his seed. theo is so shameless, he doesn’t even care that your neighbors can probably feel your headboard hitting the wall with every thrust, wants them to know that the innocent pretty girl next door is getting defiled.

currently, he has you with your face down and ass up, posing all pretty for him and showing off your little hole, still dripping with his cum as he lines up his length with your pussy lips and pushes in. you love how degrading this position in, how you’re completely at his mercy like this, dizzy with want as you drool at the thought of coming around his dick again. theo lands another firm smack against your ass cheek, and your legs buckle up from the pain and pleasure. you’re twitching against him, getting addicted to the way your body is being tossed around like a ragdoll, as if you were made to be taeyang’s personal cocksleeve. he pounds into you like it’s nothing, and it sends blood rushing to your core. you silently thank the heavens for blessing you with a boyfriend like theo when you feel another climax approaching, all whilst theo continues to assault your cunt and use you like a cum dump. just when you believe theo couldn’t make you feel any better, his hand slips in between your legs to draw circles into your clit, and you feel the knot in your tummy tear in one firm snap that has you shaking, gripping onto anything within your reach to try to ground yourself as he works you through your nth orgasm of the night. your arousal leaks out of you, dripping and splashing onto theo’s pelvis and your sheets, and it just doesn’t stop spilling. you can hear your boyfriend groaning in satisfaction, filling you up once again and pounding irregularly as you both ride your highs together. after a few moments, taeyang’s thrusts slow to lazy grinds until you push your hips away, pleading him for “noooo, no more yangie.. too sensitive..” as he just watches you escape his grip in amusement. your boyfriend gives you a few minutes to catch your breath, massaging little shapes into your skin to ease any pain he may have caused earlier. when you’ve finally descended back to planet earth, you turn to look at theo with a face of disbelief, and he grins and leans in to kiss you, pulling off your lips just as quick to stare at you, still smiling mischievously. then he’s sitting up on your bed again, fingers moving dangerously close to your wetness as you widen your eyes at his next words.

“what was that you said earlier, my baby doesn’t think she can squirt? but look at you now.. so messy, want me to clean you up? hm? think you can take it?”

❤︎ jiung

“shhh pretty, gotta stay quiet ok? don’t wanna get us in trouble, do you?” jiung taunts as he lazily strokes himself to the view of you playing with your cute pussy. you’ve never felt so vulnerable before, burning up at the intensity of his gaze as you muster up enough courage to spread your legs wider in order to please him. when jiung asked you to show him how you touch yourself when he’s on tour earlier, you didn’t expect to be so shy, but another part of you feels empowered at how the sight of you playing with yourself is making him lose all of his composure. although you’re currently at his dorm, and are aware that the rest of the boys are also here, the risk of them hearing you doing something so dirty is exhilarating. your boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind either, completely detached from his surroundings and focused on the way you work 3 fingers into your hole, the way it gapes and swallows your digits. he’s breathing heavily in between his instructions, gaze dark as he continues to fuck up into his own palm. ji has always been so sweet with his praises, and everytime he calls you something as simple as pretty, you move your fingers a tad bit faster to chase your release. you’re about to inform him that you’re close, but he beats you to it by forcefully pulling your fingers away from your cunt, replacing them a few moments later with his own. jiung’s pace is less forgiving, and your control over the volume of your voice starts to waver as curls his fingers inside of you. the sensation of his ministrations, paired with the fear that any of his members could catch you in this position results in an odd buildup in your stomach. you’ve experienced earth shattering orgasms with your boyfriend before, but there is something different about the way this one is building up, and for a moment you’re terrified you’re about to piss all over his fingers and sheets. you remove one of your hands from it’s grip on his pillow and grab at jiung’s wrist instead in a panic, attempting to push him away and warn him but he doesn’t stop, in fact he only quickens his pace and scrunches his brows in concentration as you start to writhe and tremble. “ji wait! ah, fuck!” are the last words that leave your lips before you feel yourself gush all over his hand, and your eyes roll back as warm drops escape your womanhood.

your embarrassment of peeing yourself, despite how good it felt, snaps you out of the afterglow of your orgasm quicker than usual, and you’re about to apologize to the boy in front of you profusely but he cuts you off with “baby, you squirted”. when you look up at his face, he’s smiling so big, as if he’s a child that was just given a bucket of candy on halloween. “i uh, are you sure?” is the lame response that comes out of your mouth in a sigh, and you’re honestly relieved that you didn’t pee yourself and slightly less mortified at how quick you came because of your boyfriend’s pleased reaction. he just giggles in response and leans in to kiss you all over your face, his excitement is contagious, causing you to laugh along with him. “i didn’t even know i could do that..”

just when jiung is about to respond, loud knocking can be heard against his door. “you guys are so loud, can you please not fuck like rabbits when other people are here? some of us enjoy some peace and quiet”. you recognize the disgruntled voice as keeho’s, and although you’re a bit ashamed, your boyfriend just ignores the inquiry and kisses you again, fingers making their way back to your cunny as you sigh at the contact.

“keeho’s got some nerve if he thinks i’m gonna leave you alone tonight after you just squirted in front of me”

❤︎ intak

in true puppy nature, intak is obsessed with giving you backshots. doggystyle is his favorite position, he loves the way he gets full access to the sight of your bare back glistening with sweat as you praise how well he’s fucking you. tak is addicted to how your ass jiggles everytime your pelvis’ hit against each other, how he just has to peer downwards to see the ring of your frothy cum around his fat cock. yeah, intak loves giving you backshots, a fact so obvious that you’ve started to wear the skimpiest skirts around him, just to lure him into taking what you know he always wants.

tonight is no different. you’re sitting at your vanity, spritzing some of intak’s favorite scent of perfume onto your wrists and on the nape of your neck, adding minor touch ups to your full glam, and most importantly, sliding on the shortest skirt you’ve ever owned. the material clings onto the shape of your bum, and the length is so short that the bottom curve of your ass is on full display. you haven’t seen your boyfriend in days, and usually that just meant that you would have to do with your vibrator, but recently, the device just wasn’t enough, just didn’t hit the spot like your boyfriend did. to say you were sexually frustrated was an understatement. you needed to intak’s girth on your tongue, needed him to open you up and fuck you into next week. therefore, you’ve decided that tonight, you need to look as fuckable as possible. you’re determined to make intak’s jaw drop as soon as he lays his eyes on you, and once you’ve made sure you’re ready, you take one more good look at the mirror, then reach for your phone to check your text notifications. like clockwork, you receive a new message from intak as soon as you unlock your device.

takkie! <3: hi doll :) i’m here

takkie! <3: take ur time tho!

you heart his messages and giggle, thinking about how happy you are to see your boyfriend and spend time with him tonight. being away from him, even for a few days, is always such a bore. even if you plan on getting your insides rearranged in a few hours, just being within tak’s presence is enough to get you excited. as you make your way downstairs, you pull down your shirt just slightly, so your cleavage becomes visible. you slip on some wedges that match the color of your top and make your way towards intak’s bright red convertible, surprising him when you suddenly open the passenger door and plop yourself onto his leather seats. “hi baby! missed you so much!” is how you greet him, leaning in to give him a sloppy peck on the lips. you detach yourself from his face and smile innocently at him, observing the way he ogles your appearance and shamelessly stares at your breasts and legs. once he’s finally got a grip on himself, he smiles at you and tucks a stray piece of your hair behind your ear while responding with “missed you too doll, did you get all pretty jus’ for me?”

you did in fact get all pretty just for him, and you beam with victory as intak pushes your head down onto the surface of his back seats, his cock furiously pounding into you as he breathes heavy. “thought you could wear this shit and not get fucked? you’re so beautiful doll, you’re drivin’ me crazy. fuckkkkk”. tears are streaming down your cheeks, no doubt fucking up your mascara but you couldn’t care less as you internally laugh at the realization that your hunk of a boyfriend is just so easy to rile up, how you have such a big effect on him. he really is losing his mind, pathetically rutting into you like a dog as he leans forward to completely tower over your frame, hands groping your exposed tits as he tilts his head to lay kisses on your right ear. you’re chanting mantras of yes, yes, yes’ as intak plows into your heat, loving how dirty it all is, how everytime you get in the back of his car you’ll remember the feeling of your cum pooling onto his expensive seats. “gonna cum, fuck, where do you want it babe?” is the question that accompanies his sloppy thrusts, and you’re quick to beg for him to cum “inside! wanna feel it takkie”. your boyfriend quickly flips you over onto your back, and you’re about to ask what he’s doing until he enters you again, going at it impossibly faster until he feels the familiar shaking of your legs, the tightening of your cunt around him that signals that you’re close. he’s thrusting so viciously that you’re sure the car is rocking back and forth. intak’s sweat is starting to drip off onto you, and it only pushes you closer to that sweet edge. with a few more thrusts, you’re crying out and creaming around him, your juices squirting all over his seats as he pulls out to watch. you’re crying, feeling dazed and confused as to what just happened, embarrassment beginning to sink in and consume you until you look up to see intak’s face. his eyes are focused on your mess, cum weeping out of his tip as he whines louder than he ever has before. without skipping a beat, he’s pressing his cockhead against your clit, slapping it over and over in attempts to draw more juices out of you. he’s so focused, so consumed by lust that his pleas for you to “give me more. one more doll. need to see you squirt again, give it to me” come out hurried and mumbled. you’ve never seen your boyfriend quite this desperate, but it makes you hungrier for more.

long story short, you squirt over his leather seats again and he licks it all up, so your plan was in fact very successful!

❤︎ soul

you and shota have been at this for about a week. for context, it’s been precisely six days since you and your boyfriend lost your virginities to each other. six days ago you allowed soul to see you bare, touch and kiss you wherever he so pleased, and six days ago was the first instance where you realized why your classmates were always so crazy for sex.

so where, may you ask, has your recent deflowering led you to? well, back to your boyfriend’s bed, where your hands pull and tug at his long hair frantically as you search for a release. when you initially decided that you were ready to lose your virginity to soul, you didn’t really know what to expect other than pain. as it turns out, you and shota had such an incredible first time that you’ve spent the entire remainder of the week with your bodies never apart, every moment together being occupied with the two of you exploring each other with your fingers and tongues. it’s become concerning actually, how the loss of your virginity has only led you to become more curious. you want to know of each and every sound you can pull out of your lover, if he whines or groans, if he prefers to fuck into the warmth of your mouth or the plush of your thighs.

so like i said, you and shota have been at this for about a week. currently, he has you on your knees, letting you take the lead as he watches you suck and lick the tip of his heavy cock. you collect his precum into your mouth, smearing some excess onto your lips as you look up to lock eyes with him. sho is definitely pleased, enjoying the attention to his cock more than he’d ever admit out loud. he attempts to hide his groans by biting down on his bottom lip, but it’s no use when you start to bob your head up and down his length with no warning. his resolve is wavering, toes are curling, whines come out more freely as he never dares to break eye contact with you. you love the effect you have on your boyfriend, a fact that has only become evident to you this week during your self-proclaimed “sexcapade”. when shota is close, his length slightly twitches on your tongue and you take the reaction as a sign to release him with a pop!, much to his annoyance. “why’d you stop?” he frustratedly asks you, wincing as if he’s just been punched. “wanna try something…” is the only reply you give soul as the gears turn in your head, and suddenly your latching your hands onto the back of your boyfriend’s thighs and lightly pushing him onto the bed. he has a quizzical expression on his features, but he enjoys that you’re excited to try something new with him, this entire week proving to him that he’d do anything you asked him to, just to see you fall apart and sigh his name. you instruct your boyfriend to lay down flat against your bedsheets, and he follows suit right away, making your heart swoon before you resume your plan. shota opts to stay silent, trusting you with whatever you want to try, and he stays quiet when your putting one leg on either side of his head, dropping your pelvis onto his tongue as you face his cock, continuing to suck him off while he returns the favor to you. this position makes you feel so powerful, like you’re the only one who’s allowed to call the shots. your boyfriend doesn’t have any complaints either, just happy to have your cunt on his tongue and his cock on yours. the two of you work in, for the most part, silence, aside from the occasional groans and moans that slip past your lips when one of you adds additional pressure. every time your tongue presses against the slit of his cock, or your mouth sucks on his fat head, you make mental notes of all of the sounds of pleasure you can hear behind you. your thoughts begin to drift, thinking about how you can’t believe you led shota to doing something so nasty, something you would most likely see in a corny porno, but as he laps and slurps at your pussy lips, you decide you couldn’t care less. soul is very good at giving head, another epiphany you have had this week, which excites you a little too much. you’re pulled back into reality from your thoughts, however, when your boyfriend uses his teeth to slightly nip at your clit, putting enough pressure to make you squeal.

“sho! god keep doing that.. ‘s good, feels sooooo good!” is what breaks the silence in your bedroom, and soul is nothing if not a quick learner. he continues to flatten his tongue against the groove of your vaginal lips, top to bottom until he reaches your little bud, then biting at it to get another pleasured noise out of you. he goes a little overboard with the biting, but you only push against his mouth, so he figures it must feel good and continues to please you. you on the other hand, have completely abandoned shota’s cock, too preoccupied with noticing how different the coil in your pelvis feels, how much more intense it builds up until it finally snaps, and what follows is only describable as pure bliss. you’re loud, moans are wanton as you grind your hips onto shota’s tongue, riding out your high when you realize that you feel a lot wetter than you would with your typical orgasm. you finally lift your pussy off of shota’s face and the sudden change of position makes you aware of the cum splattered on the side of your cheek, signifying that your boyfriend got a little too excited by your climax. you pivot your body to face him, mostly to make sure you didn’t go too overboard, and are met with shota’s pretty face, glistening with a strange wetness that you soon realize is yours. you stare at your boyfriend as he begins to lick at his own mouth and chin, eyes darkening as he grabs and kisses you messily. you can taste your essence on your own tongue and whine at how desperate shota is being, how your explosive orgasm has begun to show you a side of soul you didn’t know existed. the rest of the night is spent with your boyfriend making you squirt over and over again hehe <3 he lives to make you feel good

❤︎ jongseob

“need to feel you, ah! in me seobie, please! wan’ your cock in me sooo bad, please put it in?”

the pathetic words that come out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping yourself have the biggest effect on the boy under you. you’re currently straddling your boyfriend, grinding your panty-clad cunt on the outline of his dick, staining seob’s sweatpants with a small patch of your wetness. you don’t know why you’re feeling especially needy today, but seeing your boyfriend after a hard, long week of class makes you crave to be filled up by him. jongseob looks up at you in astonishment, lips forming a cute little “o” as his hands are placed tightly on both sides of your waist. he take this time to admire how sexy you look like this, grinding on him in only a crop top and tiny pair of panties. he could definitely get used to the view, and has to bite back pathetic moans of his own from escaping his plush lips, wanting to fully focus on the sounds you make as you hump him like a bitch in heat. he’s about to tell you to slow down, that he’ll take care of you but he needs to stretch you out first, but you’re not patient enough to wait for him to answer your previous pleas. his eyes widen as he watches you huff and pause the roll of your hips, and seob nearly faints when you cross your arms to pull your skimpy top off of your body, or when you hook your fingers under his sweats, pulling them down just far enough to where you can grab at his now exposed dick. to this, he sits up onto his elbows, not wanting to jump into penetrating you without prepping you first.

“princess wait, are you sure? haven’t stretched you out yet, don’t wanna hurt you baby..” he sweetly informs you, making you pause for a minute to look into his eyes. you scan all over his face, how his blonde bangs are now damp with sweat and stuck to his forehead, the mole below his eye that you love so much, the heart eyes he’s shooting at you, and his pink lips struggling to hold in his heavy breaths. you grab his face with your hands and give him one long kiss on the lips before you pull back to reply, “wanna make it hurt seobie, wanna feel you all up in my guts, please, been thinkin’ about it all day!” and fuck, how is he supposed to tell his princess no when she’s asking for his cock so sweetly? your request is enough initiative for jongseob to flip you over with haste, towering over you as he pinches your panties to the side and slips in, not worried about discarding the rest of his clothes as he’s only concerned with pounding into your cunny until you’re completely filled up to the brim with his seed. his hands are everywhere, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, caressing your pretty face, kneading at your tits, until he finally settles one hand on your waist, and the other around your throat. the slight weight and pressure of his hold makes your eyes roll back. “oh my- fuck, yes!! you’re so fucking big seobie!” is what urges your boyfriend to snap his hips even harder into you, his ego boosted by just how loud you are. you’re so responsive, he can feel your pussy tightening around him into a vice grip, as if you want to milk him for everything he has and more. your begs and whines only increase in volume when he dips a finger down to play with your clit, and after a few seconds you’re crashing, melting into him as he continues to fuck you through both of your orgasms. he’s peppering your face in kisses to bring you down from cloud nine, praising you for being so sexy, so good for him. you don’t even realize that this is the first time you’ve squirted in front of your boyfriend until he’s sinking down to level with your cunt, displaying a crazy look in his eyes before he dives in and starts to fuck his tongue into you with as much vigor as he fucked you with earlier. pulls away for a moment to take a good look at your face, and then opening his mouth to say,

“you’re so sexy baby, gonna make you squirt again. you wanted this, right? wanted it so bad and now you’re twitching like you can’t handle it. gon’ fuck you into next week baby, will you let me?”

a/n: i <3 needy piwon

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @cysier @fishsquishh

❤︎

3K notes · View notes