#but like b&c was always going to be terrible right? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeyhotteoks · 11 months

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always only you (c.sc)

summary: the date was terrible, awful even, but you just can't call your brother to pick you up. you have to call his best friend instead.

note: hi um....... i'm back and a seventeen stan now????? don't worry, i'm still working on ateez fic, but s.coups has taken hold of my brain and i needed to get this one out there so..... pls enjoy

warnings: non idol!seungcheol, fem!reader, older brother mingyu, seungcheol is mingyus bff, reader is called a sl*t in a mean way by her shitty date, v protective cheol, reckless driving, unprotected sex (wrap it up dont be like them), reader is curvy and descriptors like full, thick, etc. are used throughout, makeouts, grinding, cheol is obsessed with pussy, i mean fr he's a bonafide wap enjoyer, an oral aficionado of the wettest kind, anyways there's oral sex f receiving, hand stuff, rough fingering, rough but passionate sex, use of baby and princess, creampies b/c lbr he's gotta, anyways they're obsessed with each other

pairings: s.coups x reader

genre: smut and more smut, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 14.2K

It was a bad date.

Not the worst date you’ve ever had, granted, but still pretty up there in terms of terrible. He left an hour ago, the minute you interrupted his monologue to tell him that you were pretty sure things weren’t going to work out. You’ve never had someone leave in the middle of a date before, but then again, you’ve never actually told someone the date was bad in the middle either.

Not being able to find the right guy is starting to feel embarrassing. It’s been years since your last relationship and months since you even had a second date. Naively, you had had such a good feeling about tonight and having to be proven wrong at breakneck speed before you even got your entrees feels like some kind of poetic karma for something you must have done. You just wish for once you had kept your mouth shut, but your good feeling had been infectious and your excitement about the date bubbled up out of you to your friends and your coworkers.

You just wish you never told Mingyu.

I have a really good feeling about him. That’s what you told your brother on the phone a few hours ago. We’ve been talking for a few weeks, I think you’ll really like him.

Stupid.

You should have known he was on the rebound from the suspiciously large gap in photos on his Instagram. You should have known he was just trying to sleep with you from the minute he commented on your dress, from the way he touched your shoulder for too long for the first hug. You should have known on top of all of that that he would be boring from his joking non-answer when you asked about his most recent read. Sometimes it takes all of those things wrapped up tightly together and shoved directly in your face from across a dining room table to know for sure.

You just wish you never said a word to Mingyu. You don’t want to see that look in his eyes when you tell him he wasn’t the right guy. His eyes always go soft, mouth downturned, and it kills you every time because he means it when he says - You’ll find the right guy soon, anyone would be crazy to not love you.

Tonight you really don’t want pity, you don’t think you can handle it.

“Are you ready for the check?” The server’s voice snaps you right out of your thoughts and you look up at his sympathetic smile.

“Sorry,” You manage, “yes,”

“No rush,” He lies, immediately producing the leather billfold and sliding it across the tablecloth.

The floor doesn’t start to drop out from beneath you until you open it, despite having to sit here and eat your pasta alone. This place is expensive, more expensive than you thought.

Your eyes run through the bill. Four cocktails, two appetizers, two entrees, one slice of cherry cheesecake. The bills your date left on the table just barely covers three cocktails. You can’t afford this. The prices here were probably nothing for your date given how much he talked about his extremely smart investing strategies, but not for you.

You do fast math, panic math.

After paying the bill you’ll have 9,600 won in your debit account. You get paid tomorrow so it’s not the scariest number you’ve ever seen in your account, but it’s definitely not enough for a taxi home.

Your stomach churns.

You pay the bill quickly, quietly, the server’s hovering presence by your shoulder enough to tell you there is in fact a considerable rush. Your card is returned to you in moments, and he places a brown paper bag in front of you, “There’s an extra slice of cheesecake in there for you,” he says, “I’m sorry about your date.”

He’s gone before you can say thank you.

You suppose you can’t really sit inside anymore if you’ve paid the bill and you’re holding a to-go bag, so you step out into the chilly night air. It’s been raining lately, but barely. It’s been cloudy more than anything, and yet here you are walking outside into the cold night air and a late autumn storm of icy rain.

Your date was a special kind of bastard for leaving you stranded a half hour from your apartment in a storm like this.

The comments he made about you, about your dress and the way it fits flick through your mind and your jaw draws tightly shut. If you had had the wherewithal in that moment to slap him or toss a glass of water in his face you would have, but instead you sat frozen with your stomach in knots.

It takes you one flash of rage to scroll through your phone and delete the three dating apps installed, and then you open up your contacts and scroll for your brother’s name. He doesn’t live too far from here, and you know he’s probably out with some of his friends, but if you’re lucky maybe he’s close by. Your finger hovers over Mingyu’s contact, but you can't quite make the call.

You’re twenty-six, you should be grown up enough to get home by yourself after a bad date and not have to call him to rescue you. Embarrassment floods you, the idea of admitting you can’t afford the taxi tonight just sinks into your bones. You love your brother so much, but the idea of seeing him look at you the way he sometimes does and then slip money into your purse for you to find at home makes you want to cry. You’d call him and you’d tell him you’re returning it and he’d play dumb - What money, y/n? I didn’t put that there, maybe it’s like when you find 50,000 won in your old jeans?

No, you can’t call him. You can’t go over to his lovely little apartment with his absolutely lovely fiance and cry about the sorry state of your romantic life. Nothing about that will make you feel better in this moment, absolutely nothing.

You scroll away from his contact and you think about anyone else you could call, but there’s only one person who keeps coming to mind. There’s no way he’ll pick up, not when he sees your number on his phone, not after the way you’ve treated him for the past year, but his apartment really isn’t that far from here and if he doesn’t hate your guts you know he’ll at least give you a ride.

The rain picks up, pelting you hard enough that you have to duck back under the measly lip of the restaurants roof for what cover it provides, and you don’t realize you’re well and truly crying until your cheeks feel warm and wet and you can’t get a full breath, but here you are. Stranded alone, broke, and loveless in an apparently ill fitting dress, and there’s only one person’s voice you want to hear even if it’s just his stupid voicemail box.

Tears hiccup out of you as you dial, cold fingers shaking as you try to press the numbers you’ve had memorized by heart since you were thirteen and got your first cell phone.

The phone rings twice before he answers, “Hey, you,”

The easy sound of his voice makes your tears come faster. Your breath hitches in your chest, “Cheol?”

“y/n?” His voice shifts, “Are you crying?”

“I’m,” You hiccup again, “I’m sorry,”

“Hey,” He tries again, “y/n, is that you?”

“I messed up,” Your head is starting to throb and you press your eyes closed, leaning back against the cold wall of the restaurant and hiding as much of your body under the overhang of the roof as possible, “I’m sorry to call,”

“That’s okay,” Seungcheol says, his voice sounding strained, “what happened, princess?”

He hasn’t called you that in years, not since you were fifteen and carrying a torch for him. Not since you made Mingyu tell him to stop.

“C-can you come get me?” You wish you could just stop crying.

“Tell me where you are,” He answers immediately, and despite the rain you hear the sound of his car keys.

You give him the name of the restaurant, the closest cross streets, all blubbered out between fat tears and rain drops.

“That’s…” He sounds distant suddenly and then his voice reconnects, “twenty minutes, okay? I’ll be there in twenty minutes, princess, just take a deep breath,”

You drag in a shaky breath, “Cheol,” you scrub the tears from under your eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to call,”

“Me,” He says, his car starting up in the background, “you always call me if you need me,”

You haven’t seen him in almost a year, barely talked to him outside of sending reactions to each other's Instagram stories, but he’s coming.

The way you fell away from him was gradual at first, and then an intentional self preservationist wall. Mingyu had introduced his best friend to a girl, and despite your high school crush being supposedly dead and buried, you weren’t prepared for what Choi Seungcheol in love would look like. You started being busier and busier until his calls went unanswered and then eventually his calls just stopped altogether. Mingyu told you later that the relationship didn’t last, but the damage was done and in the end it was just easier not to reach out first.

You can’t believe he picked up the phone and you can’t believe the first thing he heard from you in a year was hysterical crying. Taking a set of deep, steadying breaths you wipe away the wetness from your cheeks. Your date had hurt your feelings, but you only let it last for a minute. You wouldn’t let a man with such a fragile ego get into your head, and besides, you’ve always liked this dress.

Seungcheol makes it to you in fifteen minutes flat. He’s broken at least six traffic laws to get to you, including running a solidly red, redlight, but he really doesn’t care.

He’s seen you cry before, plenty of times. When you skinned your knee at seven or that time he and Mingyu played a prank when you were eleven, tricking you into thinking you were home alone on Halloween night. He’s seen you cry at movies and at videos of puppies and the sound of moving music, and he remembers your eyes full of glassy tears watching Mingyu graduate college. He remembers the sound of it when your grandmother died when you were nineteen, the way your shoulders shook and your breath wheezed as you hid your face tightly in your brother's chest while he looked on feeling so, so helpless.

Seungcheol remembers all of it, but he’s never heard you sound like you did tonight.

Mingyu had said you had a date. Earlier in Seungcheol’s night at a bar not far from his apartment, his best friend mentioned it off hand. Mingyu said it like an afterthought as he answered one of your texts. Seungcheol tried not to notice the way his hand tightened on his beer can, enough to make the aluminum crack inwards on itself where his thumb dug into the cool metal. He tried not to think too much about what that meant, just like he’s been trying not to think too much about you at all lately.

Now his mind is racing, threading the pieces together as the wet road whips by. The threadiness of your voice turns synonymous with panic in his mind and now all he can think about is how he’ll find you when he gets there. He goes over the facts he knows while he stops behind a small block of traffic, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel.

A date, a bad date, a date you needed a ride away from. The kind of date you couldn’t tell your brother about, when he knows that Mingyu is always your first call. As the traffic disperses he presses the gas pedal and weaves around the slower cars, images flickering in his mind’s eye. A faceless man looking at you, making you uncomfortable, pressing into your space. His mind loops on the image of an unwanted kiss, of pushy hands finding their way under your blouse.

By the time he’s skidding into the parking lot of the restaurant his hands are shaking and he’s ready to kill.

When he sees you, wet and shivering on the sidewalk, he nearly falls out of the car trying to get to you. He leaves the key in the ignition, the door flung wide open with warmth pouring out into the chilly night air.

He looks flustered, rumpled like he was having a quiet night in. Heavy gray sweatpants that hang just right on his hips and an oversized white shirt. He’s wearing socks and slides and the second you see him it dawns on you that when you called him you must have sounded hysterical because he didn’t even try to dress for the icy weather.

“You look terrible,” You clap a hand over your lips to stop yourself from laughing, and you can’t believe that’s the first thing you manage to say to him after a year. You hate yourself for having no filter, no off switch, no ability to just be normal and say thank you for coming all this way.

His expression runs from panic to confusion in a split second, “What?”

“Fuck,” You laugh, shaking your head, “no, sorry, you look good, but it’s raining like hell, get in the car,”

He blinks, “y/n,”

“Come on,” You duck out from beneath the measly roof overhang and dart towards the passenger side door, “it’s freezing, I’ll explain in the car,”

Your dress is wet, but not soaked through, so you hope you won’t do any damage to his seats as you slide into the warmth of his car and shut the door. It takes him at least thirty seconds to follow you, but through his confusion at your reaction you bet he finally registers the cold wetness of his socks and it snaps him back to reality.

He leaves the car in park and turns his body to you.

You owe him an explanation, especially given the way you cried on the phone to him twenty minutes ago, but all you can think right now is that it’s really, really nice to see his face again. His hair has gotten longer, shaggier and curled a little at the neck and it might just be the fit of his shirt, but he looks broader. It’s only been a year, but he looks so much more like a man now. All you can manage is, “Hey, Cheol,”

“Hey,” He answers, shifting himself further in the seat so that he’s almost twisted up sideways, one leg tucked up to accommodate the position.

The front of his shirt is damp with rain and clinging a bit to his chest and you look down. You really do not need to be having these kinds of thoughts about him again, it’s only been a minute, ninety seconds at the most.

“y/n,” He says, his voice slow and soft, “what happened?”

Shame floods you, heating your cheeks red.

He stretches a hand across the center console, but he stops halfway, his fingers closing into a loose fist, “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know,”

“I won’t tell Gyu,” He offers quietly, “just tell me what happened, and I promise, I’ll take care of it.”

Oh.

Your head snaps up at his serious tone, “Nothing happened, I’m fine,”

He looks more confused than before if that’s even possible, and you can practically see him working out his next words.

“Cheol,” You shake your head, “I’m serious, I’m completely fine, I just needed a ride,”

“You were crying,” He says, not a question but a fact.

“I know,” You sigh.

“You were crying like something happened,” He draws his arm back and runs a hand through his damp hair, “and you called me?”

“I know,” You repeat, “it was a bad date, but that’s all it was. He ditched me without a ride though and I just,”

Seungcheol’s lips close at your words as he waits for you to finish.

“The thought of calling Mingyu and telling him about this just,” You clear your throat to push back a little bubble of emotion, “yeah, I couldn’t do that,”

“Oh,” His voice drops, and Seungcheol shifts in his seat, throwing the car into drive, “got it.”

“No, Cheol,” You shake your head, “that’s not what I meant,”

“It’s fine,” He peels out of the parking lot, “I’ll drive you home.”

He’s angry, pissed at you in that way he gets pissed. Tightened jaw, heavy sighs, his knee bouncing in irritation. If you give it five minutes he’ll tell you what’s bothering him, he’ll say it in a fast rush like he’s more disappointed than mad. You have to let him come to you when he’s like this, no amount of trying to explain will fix it, so you wait.

The drive is silent, and you fight the urge to jump in with directions when he approaches each light and turn. He knows where your apartment is, he helped you move in four years ago when you graduated college. Mingyu and his friends lifting box after box and telling you to just relax and let the professionals handle it. You smile at the memory.

He stays quiet until he turns off the major road and down the side streets that will take you to your apartment, but finally he says, “You can’t just call me like that and expect me to drop everything when you have a bad date,”

“Were you busy?” You didn’t think so judging by the state of his clothes, but it’s not out of the realm of possibility. He could have had friends over, maybe a girl. You wonder idly if he’s seeing someone.

“That’s not the point,” He glances at you, “and you know it.”

“I’m sorry,” You tell him, and you mean it, “I really didn’t know who to call, and I just,”

“What, y/n?” He pushes a little.

“I just don’t want to tell Mingyu about the date,” You confess, “and I didn’t mean to call you and be such a mess, the date really was bad and I was feeling sorry for myself, and I didn’t have enough money to get home,”

“What?” He swivels his head to the side for a moment and then refocuses on the road.

“I would have called a taxi,” You explain, “but my fucking date left and didn’t pay after we ordered all this food and it was more than I was planning for,”

“He didn’t pay?” He sounds disgusted and you smile.

“No,” You tell him, “but in fairness, I did tell him in the middle of the date it wasn’t going to work out,”

He laughs sharply, and you know he’s still irritated but at least he’s listening, “That bad?”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “but it is what it is,”

He glances over to you again, “So he walked out?”

“Basically,” You nod, “he said what he needed to say, dropped twenty-thousand won on the table like that was going to cover anything and walked out. At least now I know he was an asshole, I’m not missing out on anything,”

“What did he say to you?” His voice pops up an octave.

You’d really rather not tell him, you’d be fine burying the comment he made deep down inside never to be unpacked again. You shake your head, “It’s fine,”

“It doesn’t seem fine,” He starts, but you smoothly cut back in.

“I just didn’t want Gyu to feel bad for me I guess, he knew I was looking forward to the date, and having to call for a ride like this, I don’t know. I was embarrassed,” You explain.

“I still don’t understand why you called me, though,” He admits, and you can still feel the tension in him even though the conversation has been ebbing and flowing, “I’m not your brother.”

Irritation sparks in you at the comment, “I know you’re not,” you turn to him, “but we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Friends call each other,” He says simply, “don’t they?”

You let his comment sit in the air between you for a moment, and then you sigh, “Yeah, they do. I’m sorry I disappeared on you like that,”

“I tried calling,” He says softly, “but you were always busy,”

“I know,” You breathe.

He drives further, slower now and safer that you’re in the car, and you can see him thinking through your words. Finally he slides his hand across the center console with his palm turned up, offering you his hand, “y/n,” he says, “are you doing okay? With money, I mean, after what you said?”

“I’m good,” You tell him, “it was just shitty timing,”

“If you need anything,” He squeezes your hand as you slide your palm across his, “I’m here, we don’t have to say anything to,”

“I’m okay,” You assure him, “but thank you, seriously,”

He nods, accepting your words, but then he asks something harder, “What did that guy say to you, y/n? I know you, you weren’t crying like that over not being able to get a taxi,”

You sigh, leaning back in the passenger seat, “Can I ask you to let it go?”

“You can ask,” He shrugs, “but so can I.”

You sit quietly, looking at your entwined hands resting on your knee. His thumb strokes over your knuckles slowly.

“Fine,” You murmur, “he said he didn’t want to date me anyways, he just came to sleep with me,”

His hand tightens on yours.

“And if I wasn’t going to fuck him,” You do your best to clean up some of the language he used when he got up from the table, “I shouldn’t have dressed like a slut,”

You leave out the part that really cut deep, the part that made the more form fitting dress you chose go from sexy to something sour.

“Give me this asshole’s name,” Seungcheol skids to a stop a little too harshly at the next traffic light and turns to you.

“No,” You shake your head, “I’m fine now, it just stung,”

His lips close in a tight line and then he sighs, “I’m so sorry someone said that to you,”

“Don’t apologize, Cheol,” You squeeze his hand, “you didn’t say it.”

“I know, but still,” He holds your gaze, “it was mean, and you deserve much better from a guy you’re seeing, and you don’t look like, or I mean, you aren’t a,”

You smile as he stumbles over his words and someone behind him gently honks the horn enough to let him know the light has gone green.

He jolts and refocuses on the road, clearing his throat, “What I’m trying to say is that you look nice, pretty. The dress is good, and you, um, you don’t look,”

“Thank you,” You cut him off, trying to save him from swallowing his own tongue out of embarrassment, and you ignore the way your stomach flipped over on itself hearing Seungcheol call you pretty.

“Yeah,” He swallows, slowing down to make the final turn onto your little block, “you know what I mean,”

“Mhm,” You laugh, breaking down any lingering tension, “Cheol, are you a little disappointed you didn’t get to punch my date? Is that it?”

“Shut up,” He sighs.

“Aw,” You smile as he pulls into a space by your apartment, “You were worried about me?”

He rolls his eyes as he kills the ignition, “You were hysterical,” he says, “what was I supposed to think?”

“Don’t worry,” You smile as he throws open the driver’s side door, “I think it’s kind of sweet that you went all knight and shining armor on me,”

His lip twitches, “Don’t make fun,” he says, “I thought something bad happened to you,”

“Nothing bad happened to me,” You find yourself assuring him again even though he already knows this, and you twist the moment back to a joke as quickly as you can, “unless you count listening to a guy talk about his ex for twenty minutes,”

He grimaces, “Ugh,”

“Exactly,”

“Actually, you know what,” He grins, “you’re right, that is a terrible date and you were right to call me,”

He’s out of the car and crossing to your door and relief floods your chest. Just like that, you’re back to normal.

Seungcheol pulls open your door to let you out and says, “Do you have a towel or something?”

“You want to come up?”

“If you don’t mind,”

“You just swooped in and saved my night, Coups, of course I don’t mind.” He smiles at the nickname, the one mostly used by his friend group and coined by Seungcheol himself during their short lived Soundcloud music career freshman year of college. The nickname stuck, but you and Mingyu knew him before and you’ve both always, always called him Seungcheol.

He ducks his head, smiles, and follows you up the stairs and into your apartment just like old times.

It’s a little strange seeing him like this after so much time has passed, but no matter what has happened in your life, even when your childhood little crush on him was making your nights sleepless, he’s always been there. He’s been a constant in your life since you could form memories, and when you really think about it, you’ve never not known Seungcheol. Suddenly seeing him in your living room feels right, and it makes you wonder why you couldn’t pick up the phone and say something real to him this past year.

“It looks good in here,” He offers, toeing off his slides in the entryway and stepping into your little living room, “it looks like you,”

“Thanks,” You’re pretty sure the floor of your bedroom is still covered in clothes from earlier, but he’s not going to see that and you’re just glad you didn’t let that chaos spillover out here.

“So,” He clears his throat lightly.

“Towel,” You jump, “right, hold on,”

You disappear down the hall and Seungcheol’s chest goes fluttering fast. He doesn’t need a towel, he doesn’t need anything except a pair of dry socks and his own bed, and he can’t figure out for the life of him why he gave into the little voice that told him to come upstairs. You’ve made it pretty clear over the past year or so that you’ve grown up, you’ve made your own group of friends outside of him and your brother and the guys. He doesn’t need to be here, you don’t need him anymore, you just needed a ride.

But he’s missed you a little. A lot if he’s being honest with himself. Sometimes he finds himself asking Mingyu about you, hoping you might drop by while he’s at his best friend’s place. Your name on his phone screen earlier in the night had stopped his heart cold. He couldn’t imagine why you were calling and not just texting, and he picked up the phone so fast he thought he might have fucked it up and accidentally pressed end. He tried to sound casual, normal, but his heart was pounding.

Standing in your living room he feels out of place, like a forgotten childhood relic unboxed in the middle of a new home. He doesn’t know which seat to sit in, he doesn’t have his spot on your couch here like he did at your old place. He doesn’t know where you keep your glasses or which remote would switch on the television. He doesn’t know which book you’ve been reading from the little stack on the table or the name of the place you’ve been working, and there’s a man’s jacket hanging on the wall in the hallway that he doesn’t recognize. He hopes it’s Mingyu’s.

He doesn’t know why he’s here. He should leave. He should go.

“Okay,” Your voice comes back, and he tears his eyes away from the little details of your life he doesn’t recognize to look back at you, “I’ve got a towel, socks, and I bet I have a sweatshirt of Gyu’s around here if you’re cold,”

“I’m good,” He recovers, taking the dry items from your hands.

Your fingers brush along his as you pass everything off and your stomach jumps.

“Come in,” You wave him in, “I’ll make some coffee or something and then I need to change,”

“You should get a warm shower,” He says abruptly, “you’ll catch a cold,”

“I’m fine,” You shake your head, “I wasn’t out there for too long,”

“I’ll make the coffee then, you need to get out of that wet dress,” He shoos you away and points to your kitchen, “I assume you have a normal coffee machine and not some fancy Italian thing?”

“I think you’ll be fine,” You smile, “I’ll just be a second,”

He nods, and you dart back down the hallway to your bedroom.

It takes you three minutes to change into something comfortable and clean and then kick all of your scattered clothes into the closet and shut the door. You run a brush through your tangled hair from the rain, and you almost forget that your childhood crush is walking freely around your apartment, but then you hear his laugh and you melt into the wall behind you. You missed the sound of it so much, and if you don’t get a handle on this right now you’re going to go out there and make a fool of yourself.

But then he laughs again.

You smile as you come back out into the living room, leaving your good sense behind in the bathroom, “What’s so funny?”

“I haven’t seen these in years,” He grins, and as you come around the corner you realize he’s looking at the photos you have framed and sitting in various spots on your bookshelf.

“Oh,” You smile, seeing the one he’s holding and studying, “yeah,”

“This one,” He tips the frame so you can see the picture, but you already know which one, Mingyu and Seungcheol in their first year of college stand in the center of the frame, Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Dokyeom, and Hoshi with their arms thrown around each other on either side. You are crouching in the center with Jeonghan’s little sister, both of you holding out a peace sign.

“Isn’t this the night we went to that haunted theme park?” Seungcheol asks with a smile.

“Yeah,” You take the photo back from him and look it over for a moment, “in Daegu,”

He nods, “I remember,”

“Yeah,” You place the photo back in it’s assigned spot and turn towards the kitchen, “I just remember you and DK scaring the living shit out of me,”

“God,” He runs a hand through his hair, “we did, I felt so bad about that after,”

“Mm,” You laugh.

“Gyu reamed us out for it later,” He follows you into the kitchen and watches as you pour two cups of freshly brewed coffee.

“He never told me that,” Your eyes perk up in surprise.

“He said,” Seungcheol straightens himself up to his full height and lets his face go passive for his impression, “‘If you ever make my sister cry like that again, you’ll be sorry,’”

“Sorry?” You laugh, “Mingyu wouldn’t know how to make someone sorry if his life depended on it,”

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, relaxing his shoulders and reaching for his cup, “it seemed pretty clear he wasn’t fucking around, we took him seriously,”

“Wow,” You lean against the counter, “that’s actually kind of sweet,”

“He’s always been protective of you,” Seungcheol points out, “even now, he’ll talk about you and I can see it,”

“I’m not a kid anymore, though,” You bristle a little.

“He knows that,” Seungcheol shakes his head, “he just worries, you know, it’s his nature,”

“Yeah,” You nod, taking a long sip of your coffee, “I know,”

Seungcheol hovers, not finding a place to lean or to sit in the unfamiliar place, and finally he just asks the question that’s been on his mind for the past twenty minutes, “Is that why you didn’t call him? He worries too much?”

“I guess a little,” You move past him and back into the living room, “come sit down, you’re making me nervous,”

He blushes and every little emotion you’ve ever had for him comes thundering back in your chest. There are at least three places for him to sit that aren’t directly next to you on the couch, but he ignores every one of them and sits next to you, barely a foot away, and turns towards you so he can put all his focus on you.

“So,” He prompts you, “come on, it’s just me,”

Talking to him was always easy, always. Even in the throes of your infatuation you were able to hold a conversation with him, sometimes a long one out on the balcony of your parent’s house. It’s almost irritating how quickly that familiarity and comfort comes back.

“I just feel like I’ve been really fucking this whole dating thing up,” You confess, “and Mingyu’s been… well you know him, he’s like the number one hype man for me making all my dreams come true, and being ten out of ten happy,”

“Yeah,” He nods, but lets you continue.

“But I just haven’t been able to make it work with anyone in a while,” You bite down the reason why in the back of your brain, “and every time I tell him about a bad date he just looks sadder and sadder for me,”

“Mm,” He nods, sympathetic, “I know exactly what you mean.”

“I’m so glad you picked up, honestly,” You glance down at the edge of your cup, “you’ve never treated me like that, and I just… I guess I needed a friend and not my brother tonight,”

He hesitates, but then his hand comes to rest on your knee and he gives you a squeeze, “I get it,” he says, “but, honestly it seems like you’re putting a lot of pressure on yourself,”

“I know, but,” You sigh, your words dying out as you focus on his lingering hand on your knee.

“What’s so important about getting a guy right now?” He asks, and you almost laugh at the absurdity of this man asking you that question.

“Cheol,” You shift on the couch to reposition, pulling back your knee from his touch so you can face him and admit this without being dizzier than you are about his presence, “I don’t know, exactly, but… don’t you feel like living alone is kind of fucking lonely sometimes?”

His eyes flick over you and then he nods.

The words keep coming as much as you don’t want them to now that you’ve started telling someone, telling him the truth of it and you grimace as you admit it, “The sick part is that I think it’s me. Tonight was the exception, he was a dick, but most of these guys are nice. They’re nice, they’re respectful, they seem to be interested in me, but none of them are what I want, none of them are,”

You have to stop. You have to get off this topic and off this train before you say something really and truly stupid and burn this newly restored friendship down to ash.

“Having high standards isn’t a bad thing,” He offers, “and Gyu sets the bar high for how you should treat a woman, I mean,”

“You think I’m talking about Mingyu?” You laugh sharply.

“He’s the best guy I know,” He starts to say and then the wheels start turning.

It happens fast, your absolute lightning quick strike to the match, but your poor decision making usually goes something like this. It makes you mad at first, his constant reference to your perfect brother, but then it all makes sense. Seungcheol really has no idea how you feel about him, as a person or otherwise. It doesn’t enter his brain that the guy who set your standards for men so high might be him, even after he drove illegally fast on wet roads just to come get you because he heard you cry. Up until the last year of your life where you tried to install some distance, he was always there. He was always your first call, always your last call too, and you could never really see anyone else while he was towering right in front of you. He’s never let you down and he doesn’t even know it.

“I can’t believe you,” The words slip out, and then you’re kissing him.

He takes a sharp inhale of breath at the way you collapse onto him, holding yourself up with one hand on his chest and the other on his neck, and his mouth is so warm. You press the first kiss tentatively, and then the second a little more insistently, and then you realize he hasn’t moved an inch and isn’t kissing you back in the least.

You fly backwards, your hand over your mouth, “Oh, god, I’m so sorry,”

He clears his throat and shifts, shaking his head, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,”

“I can’t believe I just did that,” You blush scarlet, “I’m a mess, I’m so, so sorry, Cheol,”

“Really,” He avoids your eyes, “it’s fine, it was an emotional night, and you just said it yourself, living alone is lonely. We’re good,”

“I didn’t kiss you because I was sad,” You run a hand through your hair and slump back on the couch, “I kissed you because you were being a dumb ass,”

“I feel like you’re insulting me a lot tonight considering I just drove across town for you,” He’s not angry, not really, but he doesn’t let you off so easily, he never has.

“I kissed you because you’re the best guy I know,” You counter his words back, “and I’m sick of you always putting yourself down when-”

He yanks you forwards by your wrist, and this kiss is what you’ll count forever as the first one. He drags your body forwards as he leans back against the couch and kisses you hard, his tongue dipping past your lips this time, his breath mingling with yours.

You shift for better purchase, your chest and his flush together, and you moan softly against his lips when his hand slips lower on your waist.

He breaks the kiss, his forehead leaning against yours, “What the fuck are we doing?”

“I think they call it making out,” You manage, your heart beating fast like a bird.

“Jesus,” He shakes his head, “what are we doing?”

“Cheol,” You start, but he kisses you again, hungrier and hotter as he pulls you in.

You pant against his mouth, your brain exploding into little fireworks as his hands start to wander, and then he groans, “You feel so good,”

This is going somewhere fast, and with your hands twisted in the fabric of his t-shirt you swing your leg over his hips and let him wrap his arms around you.

“We should slow down,” You find yourself mumbling against his mouth, “but I don’t want to, I want you,”

He nods against you, his hands squeezing your thighs where they rest on either side of him, “I want you too,”

“We should talk more,” You manage as his kisses travel over your jaw.

“Later?” He asks, his hands dragging you closer, “God, that dress,”

“Yeah?” You’re breathless already.

“If I knew you were going to kiss me I would have peeled it off you,” He pants.

A moan gets caught in your throat, your hips jerking, nipples hardening against his chest as you throw yourself into another kiss.

“God,” He shivers.

“Cheol stay,” You can talk later, he’s absolutely right, and you beg him not to go between kisses, “please stay,”

Logic starts to pump through him at the implications of that, so much more than kissing comes with staying for the night and he starts to shake his head, but at the way you’re touching him he can’t quite tear his hands away.

“I should go home,” He murmurs against your mouth, fingers slipping underneath the hem of your t-shirt, “you’ve been drinking,”

“I had two drinks,” You connect your lips with his again, tongue dipping into his mouth, “like three hours ago,”

“Still,” He kisses you again despite his words, his hand now flat against the small of your back.

“I’m not drunk,” You pull yourself closer using his shoulders, “if you don’t want to kiss me, don’t kiss me, but don’t use that as an excuse,”

“I should go home,” He repeats, like saying it out loud might make his body follow his brain, but it doesn’t. All he does is tug you closer, your legs now fully splayed around his hips as he leans back against the couch and groans against your mouth.

“I should,” He starts again, whispered thoughts against your lips, but you push back from his chest and break your mouths apart.

“If you want to go so bad, go,” You pull your arms away from him, crossing them under your chest to hold yourself steady. Your nails press pinpricks into your palms.

“This isn’t about what I want,” His eyes soften in that tender way you love, and his hand cups your waist, thumb brushing a line over the deep curve of your hip.

“Why wouldn’t this be about what you want?” You press him, “Or about what I want?”

“Mingyu is my best friend,” He says, his mouth drawn into a sullen line, “and I never want to do anything that betrays his trust or hurts him in any way,”

“I’m not asking you to,” Your voice is small.

“Just,” He sighs, his head tipping backwards against the cushions and his hands slipping to rest over your thighs, “tell me something, okay? Be honest,”

“Okay,”

“Do you want me because you’re lonely and I’m here,” He asks, his eyes locked to the ceiling, “or do you want me because you want me?”

Your arms fall slack and you open your mouth to respond but he presses forwards.

“Because if this is a one time thing to make us both feel better,” He shakes his head, “I can’t do that, I have to go home.”

“Cheol,” You murmur, but he doesn’t lift his head. You reach for him, brushing a hand along his cheek and drawing his gaze back down from the ceiling to your face, “Seungcheol, look at me,”

“Yeah,” He finally follows your gaze.

“I love my brother, but this isn’t about him,” You tell him clearly, and you watch his lips part so he can cut in but you shake your head, “it isn’t. This is about us, and I’ve had a crush on you since I was fucking thirteen,”

He blinks, a grin breaking across his face, “You have?”

“Yeah,” You shuffle closer on his lap, “why do you think I disappeared? You started dating that girl and I just… it wasn’t my place to say anything, it’s not like you were mine, but,”

He brushes the hair back from your cheek as he nods, “It hurts to see the person you want with someone else,”

“Yeah,”

“And you wanted me?”

You nod, stroking his neck where your hand rests, “I just needed some space after that, I thought I could move on,”

“I know the feeling,” He smiles, his thumb tender against your jaw, “believe me,”

“I do,” You nod, “so believe me when I tell you I’ve wanted you for a long time and I don’t just want the one night,”

He sits frozen, his eyes studying your expression, and then he’s moving. Seungcheol pulls you down to meet his mouth again, hands roughly threading into your hair and gripping your hip as he tugs your bodies flush together. He kisses like you hope he fucks, passionate and a little messy, like his need to be inside you and consumed by you is more important than any vanity.

“God,” He groans against your mouth, “he’s going to kill me,”

“Probably,” You huff a laugh against his lips, rolling your hips forwards to slot your bodies together tightly, and at the feeling of his hardening cock pressed against your sex you can’t help the breathy moan that slips out.

He drops his hands to your hips, coaxing you into rolling them again as he presses upwards and you follow his guidance with ease. He curses softly and you roll your hips again, “Oh, fuck my fucking life,” he groans, kissing his way down your throat, “he’ll kill me, but you’re worth it,”

“I better be,” You tease him, tugging gently on his hair as he licks a stripe along your throat.

“Oh, you are,” He shifts back up to kiss your lips again, his mouth pillowy soft and hot against yours, “and I love Gyu, but,”

“Seungcheol,” You push on his shoulders.

His rarely used full name gets his attention and he leans back just enough to see your face, “What’s wrong?”

“Can you please stop talking about my brother while you’re trying to fuck me?” You can hear the whine in your own voice, “I need you right now, we’ll deal with him later,”

“Sorry, sorry,” He smiles, “of course, come here,”

You melt into him as he gathers you closer, his warm, rough hands finding new expanses of skin to touch and it’s strange but delicious to know that there are still brand new things you can learn about a person even after knowing them all your life. He gets soft beneath you like butter when you touch his ears, audibly groans when you grind against him, and gets breathier every time you kiss his neck. He’s not afraid to make little noises in your ear, to curse when you do something right or softly beg you to do something again.

With his mouth on yours and his hands exploring you, you’re just a shaky wet mess in his arms and he doesn’t even fully realize it yet, still so focused on studying your body with his lips, his tongue.

“Ch-Cheol,” You whine as his teeth nip at your pulsepoint, “baby,”

His hands tighten, sliding to cup your backside through the thin fabric of your lounge pants, “Say that again,”

“Baby?”

He exhales hot air across your neck and chest, “God, I like that,”

“You hate pet names,” You sigh, remembering how his nose always crinkled in an uncomfortable scrunch when he heard people getting too coupley.

“No, I don’t,” His hand slides up, tucks under the waistband of your pants, and slides back down to feel your skin, “I hate cringey shit. You calling me ‘baby’ while you’re grinding on my dick isn’t cringey, it’s fucking hot,”

“Ah,” You tug his hair just a little, rolling your hips again, “yeah? Like this?”

His hips jolt up, pressing his cock against your clothed mound and he groans, “Say it,” he nips at your neck again and then pushes you backwards so that you’re sitting up straddling his lap, “and let me see you,”

For a brief flickering second you feel shy, another stark moment of awareness that the man between your thighs is Mingyu’s best friend, but it flashes away the minute you see his smile. He’s looking up at you like you invented the sun and you think it just might make you dizzy enough to say yes to anything he could ever ask of you.

“God,” His eyes rake over you, “you’re so fucking pretty,”

Blush creeps up your chest, “Yeah, baby?”

He swallows hard, his hands coasting up your arms and his eyes coming to rest on the heavy swell of your chest, “The prettiest.” His fingers tuck underneath the straps of your tank top and your bralette and he glances up to your face, “Can I see?”

“Please,” You whisper.

He moves slowly, peeling down the straps from each of your shoulders first, letting the thin fabric of your tank top droop down your arms until he’s left with just the stretchy elastic of your black bralette. His fingers trace your curves, the pad of his thumb ghosting over one of your hardening nipples until it pushes into a firm peak under the fabric.

“Cheol, please,” If he doesn’t touch you soon you’re going to be a squirming mess.

“Relax,” He toys with the strap, “we’ve got all night,”

You gasp as he dips forwards, peeling the front of your top down entirely until your breasts spill out of the elastic fabric. His lips connect with your skin, tongue exploring intimate parts of you in ways you’ve never experienced quite like this with anyone else.

“These,” He cups your full breasts in his hands, kissing along each swell, “are perfect, princess,”

You shiver at that, whining in his grip as he traces his tongue down and ghosts it close to your nipple, but you smile and manage, “I really took you for an ass man,”

“I’m an everything man where you’re concerned,” He flicks his tongue experimentally across the hardened bud and hums softly when you jolt in his arms, “so excuse me if I have to slow down and show my appreciation,”

This crush is going to kill you, that’s the thought that gets instantly banished from your brain the second Seungcheol wraps his lips around one nipple while his fingers pinch the other, setting a steady pace of sucking and teasing that is sure to leave pleasured little bruises.

“Oh,” You grip his shoulders, “oh, Jesus, Cheol,”

“Feel good, baby?” He switches sides smoothly and sucks again.

A jolt of pleasure rocks from your chest to your untouched clit and you rock down, trying desperately to press your aching center against anything for a little friction.

“Yeah?” He prompts you gently.

“So, so good,” You nod, rolling again, “but I need more, please,”

He nods against your chest, pressing one more kiss to your breastbone before he says, “y/n, I don’t want to move too fast or anything, we’ll do whatever you want, but,”

“But what?” You’re about a second from pushing his hand into your underwear yourself.

“Can I eat you out?”

Your stomach flips, “Oh, fuck yes,”

You’re on your back practically the second you give him permission. He holds you tight to his chest as he pushes himself up off the couch and flips you around, dropping you back onto the cushions and tugging at your clothes. Normally you’d be a little self conscious, especially in the brighter light of your living room and not the dim strategic lightning of your bedroom, but Seungcheol keeps looking at every inch of your body like he’s starving for it, groaning in pleasure at every inch of you that gets revealed, and you’re starting to think he really does like everything about you.

You help push off your pants with shaky hands, but let him loop his thumbs under the thin straps of your underwear and tug those free, a slick wet patch in the middle where you’ve been soaking through the cotton for the past half hour. You help him with your top, until finally you’re completely bare and he’s pushing you to lie back onto the extended length of the chaise while he falls to his knees before you.

“Wow,” He breathes, his hands running along your thighs, “just… wow,”

“Stop,” You can’t stop the blush now, and you fight the urge to reach for a blanket or cross your arms over yourself at his exacting gaze.

“Nope,” He dips his hands to your inner thighs and pushes your legs apart little by little, “I’m going to enjoy every bit of this,”

“Now you’re just trying to embarrass me,” You smile.

His tongue darts out to wet hips lips and he shakes his head, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,”

Your stomach churns, flipping nervously as he looks at you so earnestly.

“I’m serious,” He kisses your knee as he opens one of your legs wider, “I’ve thought about this a thousand times, but you’re so much better than my imagination,”

“Cheol,” You whisper tightly.

“Mm,” He sighs as he tips your hips back, maneuvering your legs wide and open now and shifting your hips to the very edge of the couch so he can tuck smoothly between your open legs, “I wonder if you taste as sweet as I imagined too,”

Your fingers grip down on the cushions, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Look at you,” He sighs pleasantly, his fingers ghosting along the edge of your lower lips, “is all this for me, baby?”

“Uh-huh,” Your breath hitches as his finger just barely touches your seam.

“You got this wet just from grinding on my lap?” He smiles, his teeth catching his thick bottom lip.

“Cheol,” It’s all you can manage, you really didn’t know he was like this.

His eyes soften up though at the sound of his name on your lips, and he kisses your thigh tenderly before looking back up to you, “Doing good? Okay?”

“Mhm,” You’re fine, you are, except you think you might come the second he touches you and you’re a little terrified at just how intense he is from minute one.

“y/n,” He squeezes you a little.

“I’m good,” You breathe, “I promise,”

“Okay,” He kisses your skin again and nods, “just relax, okay?”

“I’m relaxed,” You answer too quickly and one of his eyebrows goes high.

“Mhm,” He eases up on his knees a little to see your face better and smooths his hand from your leg to your hip to your stomach, “what’s going on?”

“This is just a little surreal,” You admit, “isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” He releases your legs and shifts up so he can lean over your body, catching your mouth again in a soft kiss, “it is, but do you trust me?”

“Of course,” You kiss him back.

“Then you should know,” He nuzzles your nose with his, “that all I want to do right now is make you come on my face until you can’t think, and after that if you still want to take this further we can, but baby, I really don’t care what we do tonight. I just want to be with you,”

Your mouth runs dry, and you can feel your core throbbing hard between your legs, your heart fluttering fast.

“So, please, can I make you come?” He smiles, pressing another quick kiss to your lips, “I think you want me to,”

“Yes,” The nervous knots in your stomach release, “please, Coups,”

His nose scrunches as he laughs, kissing his way down your chest, “It’s Coups now?”

“Cheol,” You whine, “you’re stalling,”

“It’s called foreplay,” He licks a firm line between your breasts and moves lower, “have you not been getting fucked right, princess?”

“F-fuck,” Your back arches as his lips travel down over your belly, eyes slipping closed, “Seungcheol,”

He shakes his head, his hair brushing against your skin, “No more baby?” He makes a sulky noise with his tongue against the back of his teeth, “Come on princess, call me baby,”

Your mind is spinning, and you gasp sharply as his fingers finally slide through your wet slit and land at the apex, pressing deliciously down over your throbbing clit, “Ch-Cheol, fuck, oh fuck, baby,”

“There she is,” He groans, and as his fingers fall away and his lips take their place. He licks a deep stripe through your folds and groans, spreading your legs open wide with his hands anchored on the backs of your thighs, “You’re perfect,”

You moan as he sucks the tender bud of your clit into his mouth.

“I’m going to do this everyday,” He pants, licking another stripe, exploring every inch of your cunt with his tongue, “you’ll be my dessert every night,”

“Ah,” Your head rocks back as pleasure lights up your spine, “baby,”

“Mm,” He groans into your core, burying his face against you and alternating perfectly between sharp sucks and flicks of his tongue.

You are moving fast, from nothing to desperate something in the span of a couple of hours, but honestly you’ve never felt safer and better and more held than this. His hands roam your body, seeking every soft place he can grab and squeeze and hold onto, and you just know the bruises on your hips will be worth it when he finally fucks you.

“Come on,” He tips your hips back to get better access, wrapping his arms around your thick thighs, “don’t be shy,”

“Oh, shit,” Your hand flies down to grip his hair and anchor your position as he manhandles you, your other hand gripping the cushions, “just like that,”

He sucks harder and flicks the tip of his tongue against your bud again, quickening his pace and listening carefully for your sounds to know what you need. Looking down between your legs you can barely believe the sight, but there he is, Choi Seungcheol with his face glistening. His lips are puffy and red, his eyes hooded, and he grins when he sees you watching before nodding just a little and redoubling his efforts.

Your legs are trembling now, the start of your orgasm building up through the base of your spine and flooding warmth into your belly, and if he wasn’t holding you so tightly you’re sure you’d snap.

“Baby,” You whine, your voice sounding not quite your own as heat floods in your chest, “oh, God, please don’t stop,”

He sucks hard, shifting to kiss your core and push the tender muscle of his tongue inside you, “I’ve got you,” he pants as he works his tongue faster, “I’ve got you,”

He’s a mess, wet with slick across cheeks and sweat on his brow, and you think for a split second you might actually be in love with this man already, no one has ever, ever treated your body quite like this. As he shifts to tease your clit again, building the pleasure up and up higher, you grip down on his hair harder.

“I’m,” You stammer out, your back arching and your mouth falling slack, “I’m gonna,”

He nods into you but doesn’t stop the pace of his tongue one bit.

“I’m,” You gasp again, “coming, fuck, I’m coming,”

It hits you all at once, punctuated with his sharp suck to your clit and your legs snap shut around his head, your body wrenching sideways as the wave takes you from conscious to that hazy middle space of pleasure. You can barely breathe, you can't even think, all you can do is feel pulse after pulse of pleasure.

“Fuck,” He curses, and your brain connects enough to realize your legs are still snapped tightly shut around his ears but you can’t get your body to respond, “yeah, fuck, there you go,”

Everything you are is trembling in his hands.

“I could fucking die happy,” He says, shifting to nip your plush thigh with his teeth, his hands gripping down on your curves, “right here between your legs,”

You make a sound, you think, and he chuckles against your skin.

“Mm-mm,” He sighs pleasantly, his hands running from your thighs to your hips and down to cup your backside, “you’re fucking gorgeous, y/n, I love every fucking inch of you,”

“Y-yeah?” Your eyes flutter open.

“Mhm,” He flicks his tongue over your clit once more, eliciting a deep shudder from your hips before he says, “I can’t wait to fuck you,”

Your legs start to relax, and you look down, “Then fuck me,”

“I want another first,” He shakes his head, “please, let me make you come again, sweetheart,”

“Oh,” You shiver as he kisses your slit again, letting his tongue linger, “fuck,”

He sighs, “This pussy,”

“Cheol,” You blush hard.

“I would do anything,” He smiles, flicking your clit again with his tongue, “for this perfect fucking pussy,”

“Anything?”

He goes still between your legs and then he nods, wetting his lips with his tongue, pressing a kiss to your quivering cunt, and looking up over your body to meet your eyes, “Anything.”

“Will you come up here?” You reach for him, “Will you hold me?”

He eases your legs down off his shoulders and shifts up, “Yeah, of course,”

“Will you,” You nearly come again just at the sight of a sizeable wet spot on his sweats, and you tug at his shirt to try and silently communicate your need, “I want to touch you too,”

“Mhm,” He stands up, shucking off his clothes as quickly as he can, and when he pushes down his boxer briefs your muscles clench.

When you were younger, a teenager inexperienced with sex and boys, you imagined his cock. You saw the faint outline of it once through a pair of athletic shorts and you wondered what he might look like naked. You wondered if you would like his body. You wondered if he would like yours too. You can’t really remember what you imagined Seungcheol’s cock to look like, but you know this is better. It’s long, but not too long, like the guys who can’t fit it in all the way without smashing painfully into your cervix, but it’s thick. His cock is heavy, deserving of the word, and perfectly straight until the very end where it curls up towards his abdomen.

You want him inside you so badly you could cry.

“You okay?” He says as he slides up the couch next to you, your naked hip against his.

“A little nervous,” You admit quietly, turning towards him on the cushions and drawing him closer with your hand on his shoulder.

“Me too,” He says softly, maneuvering until one arm is wrapped around your back and your head is pillowed on his other, your chests flush against each other, his cock trapped between your stomachs.

“God,” You shift closer to him, tangling your legs together, “you’re so hard,”

He nods, sighing at the way your skin drags against his, “You’re making me insane,”

“Good,” You smile, finding his lips with yours, tasting yourself on him and dipping your tongue into his mouth as you deepen the kiss.

He groans against you, and you snake a hand between your bodies to wrap around his aching cock. “Oh, fuck,” he curses as you pump your hand up and down his shaft, “easy, it’s been a while,”

“Yeah?” You soften your grip a little, rolling your hand at the tip and feeling precum bead up and smear on your belly, “Saving yourself for me, baby?”

He moans softly, his eyes rolling shut, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe,” You kiss the corner of his mouth and pump his cock a little harder.

“L-let me touch you,” He pants, his hand pushing your hips back just enough so that he can fit a hand in between your thighs, “can I touch you?”

It’s dizzying how much he begs to pleasure you, and you’re starting to think maybe this is part of what he needs, but you’re still new to each other’s bodies and learning and you suppose you’ll have time to figure all of this out. It’s not just a one night thing.

“Touch me,” You open your legs for him and he immediately slides his fingers down your slit to your aching entrance.

“Don’t stop,” He urges you and you realize at the feeling of his fingers you stopped pumping your hand.

You smile, kissing him again and finding a new pace with a stroke of your hand and a roll of your wrist, “You feel so good, baby,”

“So do you,” He pants, and then he pushes two fingers inside your slick walls.

You choke out a wine, pushing your hips forwards into his hand so he can go deeper.

“God,” He holds you firm with his other hand, “you’re too tight,”

“Too tight?” You huff, still working your hand over his cock, “never gotten that complaint before,”

“Not a complaint, princess,” He teases, drawing his fingers out of your channel before thrusting back inside, “but I need to prep you a little, I don’t want to hurt you,”

Your muscles clench down around his fingers.

He laughs softly, “Oh, yeah, babygirl? You want me inside?”

You nod, a whine trapped on your lips, “Cheol, please,”

“Shh, shh,” He shifts, effectively sliding down the couch a little more while you slide up, and he rests his head on your shoulder and adjusts the angle of his arm so he can pump his fingers in and out of your channel at a steadier pace. He watches the way his fingers disappear inside you with rapt attention, cursing when he feels you grip down on him, “You want to come again?”

“P-please,” You’re doing your best to keep working your hand, but at the way his fingers are curled inside you and pressing rhythmically against your sweet spot you think you’re about to see stars again.

“Fuck, baby,” He sighs, “you’re so sexy,”

All you can do is moan, grip down on his shoulder and let him have you.

When he pushes in a third finger to stretch you, you gasp tightly at the sensation, the pleasure rocketing up your back and making your brain buzz.

“Are you close?” He pumps his hand harder, finding your nearby nipple with his tongue and your body arches again.

“Close,” You pant, your legs widening as you try to brace yourself, your hand falling away from his cock and gripping down on his thigh as the rolling wave of your orgasm starts to wash up over you.

“Come for me,” He’s gripping you hard, like you belong to him and he wants only to please you, and his words combined with the way his hands lay on you leaves you coming apart at the seams.

The sound of it is obscene, wet and filthy and pornagraphic and you’ve never in your life had sex with someone for the first time and had it be anything close to perfect. Your bodies want each other with such need. It's entirely outside your conscious brain, and you think if he can love your body like this then maybe he can love all the other parts of you, and you never want to let him go.

Your orgasm hits you harder than the first, locking your body up in spasmodic elation, and he curls around you when you twist to make sure he works you through the crest of it, his hand only slowing down when the pulses of pleasure start to ease.

When you come back to earth, you’re pressed face down onto the couch instead of up, your cheek against the cool fabric below you. Seungcheol is wrapped around your body like he’s glued to your back, and you feel his soft breath against your cheek and shoulder, his easy kisses on whatever part of you he can reach. His hand is still tucked underneath you and between your legs, cupping your cunt warmly and just holding you as you come down.

“Cheol?” You murmur, your brain almost a little foggy at the heady feeling of two full body orgasms.

“Hey, there you are,” He kisses you again, “feeling okay?”

“Mm,” You nod, “so, so good,”

He smiles, “Yeah? Did I get you?”

You laugh against the cushions, shaking your head, “Babe, I just came so hard I blacked out,” your body stretches, pressing your core into the cup of his hand, “you definitely got me,”

“Mm,” He rocks his hand and you sigh a little overstimulated sound, “should we stop here?”

He doesn’t know, you realize it suddenly, he has no idea how badly you want him. He’s been so focused on your body, your pleasure, your wants, but you can see it now in the hesitation in voice that he still doesn’t know for sure if you want to be here with him or if you just wanted someone.

He’s been touching you like it might be the only time, his only chance to have you and hold you in his arms. Didn’t he believe you when you said it wasn’t one night?

“Seungcheol,” You wriggle in his arms, “baby,”

“What’s wrong?” He gives you the space to roll and you twist against him.

You see his eyes when you turn, like he’s waiting for something and you curse yourself inside for not telling him like he was telling you. You smile, pushing his shoulder until he’s flat on his back, “What’s wrong is that you’re not inside me,”

“O-oh,” He gasps as you hook a leg over his hips and straddle him, your body hovering over his prone cock.

“Mhm,” You drop your body over him, your slick slit nestling directly over his cock, “but I’ve been so selfish,”

He shakes his head to protest but you lay your fingers over his lips to stop him.

“I want you, Cheol,” You drag your hips and find the head of his cock so you can dip and press it against your entrance, “so fucking much,”

He’s breathing heavy against your hand, your eyes locked on eachother.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” You stay steady above him.

He nods, just a little.

“I’ve never wanted anybody like I want you,” You tell him, “never,”

His lip quirks a little, a small smile as he presses a kiss to your fingers, “I’m all yours,” he whispers.

You sink your hips back in one smooth flush motion, taking him inside you to the hilt without warning, and his head falls back as he moans. He’s stretching you out wide and full, his thick cock pushing into every spot inside you that you didn’t know could feel like this.

“Oh my fuck,” Your body moves on it’s own, rocking your hips in a circle to take him deeper and roll your clit across his pubic bone, “Cheol, Cheol,”

He blinks hard, finding your eyes at the sound of his voice, “Yeah?”

You feel strangely like you might cry at the rush of endorphins, and you roll your hips again, whining out a need, “Hold me, please? Please, touch me,”

Seungcheol softens, his hands unclench on the cushions below him and he coasts his warm hands over your thighs, your hips, up and down your sides, “I’m right here,” he murmurs.

You relish in the feeling of it, and you direct them from their wandering comfort to a landing place on your hips, the perfect soft place for him to grip in with his fingers and keep you steady while you work him. He follows your lead, watching you above him with no hesitation, and his mouth falls slack when he watches you get your position right on your knees and lift up to draw his cock out of your warm, wet channel.

“y/n,” He pants tightly.

You sink back down hard and he groans, cursing and no doubt leaving a pretty bouquet of bruises where his fingers press down.

“Your cock,” You moan as you bounce again, finding a steady rhythm, “you feel so perfect,”

“Yeah?” He bounces you, teeth clenched as he tries not to come too early.

“Made for me,” You grind down and jolt against the pleasure, “never felt something this good,”

He groans, a hot pant of breath and then he stutters his hips upwards, “D-don’t, I’ll come,”

“Good,” You sink down and back up, feeling him stretch you open again and again.

“Come here,” He reaches up for you, tugging you down by your neck to get you close and you can feel him suddenly reposition and change the angle, take back control as he pins you to his chest and pumps his hips.

The way his cock punches into you, curved and pressing directly into your g-spot, makes you choke out a moan and dig your nails into his chest.

“Say you love my cock,” He pants suddenly in your ear, “if it feels so good, say it, tell me,”

You moan sharply, “I fucking love your cock,”

“Fuck yes,” His hand claps down on your ass and grips you tight as his hips piston upwards.

“Ah, ah,” Your legs are trembling again, “I can’t,”

“Yes, you can,” He pants, “I want to feel you come on my cock, babygirl, squeeze me,”

Your eyes slam shut.

“So fucking tight,” He breathes, “so wet,”

“For you,” You choke out and hips stutter.

“Oh, f-fuck,” He pushes up hard, but instead of thrusting he locks his hips there with your bodies pressed flush together and at the sound of his sudden moan, the way his hands lock tight on your body, the way warmth floods your belly, you know he’s coming.

Your brain somersaults and you rock your hips, trying to keep catching the friction against your clit to help push you over the edge, “Ah,” you whine, “no, please,”

He doesn’t go anywhere though, he just presses his hips up to keep giving you the pressure you need and holds your hips down with his broad hands, and you hear him hiss at the overstimulation but he groans and manages, “Come baby, you’re so close, there you go, there you go,”

You’re saying something, but you can’t really hear it. All you can feel is the bubble about to burst inside you as you drag yourself fast and frantic against his body. You’re needy and seconds away, falling into trembles again.

“So beautiful,” He mumbles, dragging your mouth up to his and locking you in a heady kiss.

“Cheol!” You squeak against him, body cracking apart into shakes as you come, probably louder than you wanted to as you fall into the sweet space between his neck and shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” His softening cock slides out as you come, but he slides a hand between your thighs and rubs fast circles on your swollen clit, “fuck, look at you, god, you’re such a mess,”

Your brain is dizzy as he talks you through the edges of your orgasm.

“So wet,” He bites down softly on your shoulder, “soaked for me and full of my cum, fuck,”

As you collapse on his chest, your orgasm receding, his hand slows, but his fingers stay slipped between your folds in the messy mixture of your slick wetness and his release. You are a mess, but he seems to like it and if you’re benign honest so do you.

“I’m so,” You breathe out, shaky and exhausted, “god, I don’t know,”

“Mhm,” He sighs, and finally he slides his fingers out of you to rest on your hip, his other hand stroking a line up and down your back while you recover together.

You need to get up, run to the bathroom and get the shower started, but you’re boneless and floating and he’s just the perfect temperature, so for a little while you don’t move.

When he shifts his hips under yours to readjust your eyes pop open and you start to move, “Am I hurting you?”

“Shh,” He wraps his arms around you and gathers you tight to his chest, “don’t you dare go anywhere,”

“Yeah?”

“You’re perfect,” He repeats and you smile against his skin, “next time I want you sitting on my face,”

You laugh against him, “Next time?”

He’s quiet, his fingers still dragging up and down your spine, “If you want,”

You shift up in his arms, settling on his chest so that you can see his face, “So much,”

He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your face, as he smiles, “I missed you, you know,”

Tears prick at the back of your eyes and your throat goes thick, and you don’t trust your voice but you nod and press your lips to his, “I missed you too, all the time,”

He gives you a moment, just staying calm and kind with his hands, and then he leans up to capture your lips once more, this kiss so much softer and more familiar from the frantic emotion a few minutes ago. His kisses travel from your lips to your forehead and then he smooths back the tangled mess of your hair, “We should get cleaned up,” he murmurs, “how are you feeling?”

“Like I might not ever walk again,” You joke wryly.

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” He leans to look you over, “I got a little carried away,”

You shake your head, “No, I’m perfect, I promise,”

“We didn’t talk much beforehand,” He notes, brushing his palm over the swell of your hip, dipping at your hip crease, and tracing up over again at the curve of your thigh, “I just want to be sure you’re feeling okay with everything,”

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” You press, “you know I would,”

“Good,” He sighs.

You stretch on top of him, your knees aching from your curled position and you smile, “You want to get a shower? We can share the hot water,”

“You’re insatiable,” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Not for sex,” You slap his chest lightly as you climb off him, wincing at the sudden stretch of your knees, “I can barely move,”

“I like a challenge,” He sighs, rolling off the chaise and stretching long and you catch yourself watching the strong flex of his back, the cut of his shoulders, the curve of his ass and his muscular thighs.

Maybe you could rally.

Seungcheol turns and his eyes flick over your body too, “Yeah,” he nods, “I think I can get one more out of you,”

“My shower is shockingly small, so,” You reach for him, guiding him down the hall with you, “we’ll see,”

“I said I like a challenge,” He shrugs, and all of a sudden you can’t stop laughing.

Your shower is small, but in the end it doesn’t matter. Seungcheol ends up crouched on his knees anyways, with one of your legs hitched over his shoulder while he takes his sweet time with his tongue bringing you up to your softest, easiest orgasm of the night. You trade lazy kisses in the warmth after, the suds long gone and your fingers pruned by the time you fall into bed.

You don’t have to ask him to stay, he just does. You talk for as long as you can keep your eyes open, stories of years ago when you saw him almost every single day. You whisper late into the night, until finally he falls asleep first, his head lolled to the side, but his hand still wrapped tightly around yours.

You tumble into sleep right alongside him, his skin smelling of sweet peach and nectarine.

In the morning, you wake up to something cold suddenly pressed to your cheek and you start to stitch together the world around you in quick threads.

“Kkuma,” Seungcheol’s voice reaches you first, a hushed whisper as he tries to get his dog’s attention, “come here girl, let her sleep,”

You groan a little, and you realize the something cold was Kkuma’s very wet nose against your cheek. Instead of listening to Seungcheol, she presses her nose to you again and follows it up with a lick, her panting excitement pushing you from laying on your side to your back as she collapses over your chest.

“Kkuma!” He exclaims quietly, “down girl!”

Your eyes start to pop open, and this time you see his dog’s fluffy white face inches from your own, delighted that you’re awake.

“Kkuma,” He tries to drop his voice to a lower tone to get her attention.

“It’s okay,” You yawn, reaching up to scratch Kkuma behind the ears, “I’m awake now,”

“I’m sorry,” Seungcheol moves into your bedroom, and you can see he’s fully dressed and has been for some time, “I didn’t think she would just jump on you like that,”

Your brain is still a little sluggish and you rub your hand over your face, “Did you go home?”

He grins and nods at your sleepy question, the answer obvious from the dog on your chest, “Yeah, I needed to run home and take her for a walk, I hope you don’t mind I let myself back in,”

“Not at all,” You smile up at him, “I’m just sad you’re not in the cuddle pile,”

“We can fix that,” He tosses his beanie on your nightstand and then holds up a little carrier containing two coffees and a few little pastry bags, “and I bring gifts,”

“From that place by your apartment?” You brighten, recognizing the stamped logos on the cups.

“Mhm,” He passes over your cup, “sugar, no cream,”

“You remembered,” You push yourself up in bed, Kkuma adjusting herself to snuggle into your side, and accept the cup, “thank you,”

He lays his heavy denim jacket on the chair by your dresser and slips back into bed with you, dragging the covers back over both your legs, “Of course, I did, not that much could have changed in a year, right?”

“Mm-mm,” Your legs slide together as you tuck under his arm and settle back into his chest.

His fingers play with the ends of your hair while he sips his coffee, and then he sighs, “y/n,”

Your stomach freezes and you wonder if you’re about to get let down easy. If waking up in the morning cleared his head, if a text from Mingyu changed his mind, if on the trip back to his place he worked out the right way to break your heart, if he practiced it out loud in his car with the dog.

“What’s up?” You say, hoping you sound far more casual than you feel.

“About Gyu,” He exhales heavy, his coffee leaning against his thigh as he gathers his words, “listen,”

“Don’t,” You murmur, pressing your eyes closed, “please don’t go,”

“Go?” He asks.

“I’ll tell him, and I know he’ll be fine after the shock wears off,” You twist in the bed to look up at him, “please just stay, last night was… Cheol, please just think about this,”

His brows knit together tight in confusion and he sets his coffee on your bedside table to free up his hand and brush it along your cheek, “I was going to say, about Gyu, I’m meeting him for lunch at two. I’d like to tell him about us today,”

“You what,” You blink.

“I’d like to tell him that I picked you up after your date,” He says, “and that we got to talking, and that we kissed,”

You can almost see Mingyu’s wide puppy eyes as he realizes where the story is going to go.

“And that I asked you out on a date,” Seungcheol finishes, “and he’s going to ask me a lot of other questions which I definitely am not going to answer, except one thing,”

You swallow nervously, your coffee almost tipping to the side forgotten in your hands until he plucks it up and sets it to the side.

“He’s going to ask me if I’m serious about you,” He says calmly, like you’ve discussed this before, “and I’m going to say yes, but that’s the kind of thing you should know before your brother does.”

“You’re serious about me,” You say it back, your heart picking up as the words come off your tongue.

“Yes,” He nods, unequivocal, “and I hope you feel the same way because before I drive across town and tell my best friend I’m in love with his sister, I just need to know if you feel even a tenth of that,”

Your heart should be pounding, your stomach fluttering, your body flooding with emotion at the casual confession, but all you feel is calm. Mingyu told you once that life would fall into place, you just never thought you’d have that realization while it was happening around you.

You try to keep a straight face when you say, “There’s only one problem,”

“Okay,” He says, but you watch his hand fidget in his lap.

“You never actually asked me out on a date,” You point out with a smile, “and I don’t want to lie to Mingyu about anything,”

He grins, his tongue dragging against one side of his teeth as he shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re right,” he says, “that’s my mistake, will you go out with me?”

“I’d love to,” You lean into him so you can press a quick kiss to his lips and take his hand in yours, lacing his anxiously twitching fingers with yours to hold him steady, “and if Gyu gives you any lip about this,” you kiss him again, “tell him I’m in love with his best friend,”

“You are?” His fingers tighten on your hand.

“Mhm,” You suddenly can’t keep your lips away from his, “and you tell him that if he does anything to ruin this, that I’ll make him sorry,”

“Now that,” He laughs, “that I believe,”

You pull him down to you and your body without another word, and with a hushed apology he pushes Kkuma off the bed so he can splay you out in the middle of the mattress. He takes you fast, hurried and full of need now that you have so much time ahead of you for slow. For now, you have a lot of catching up to do.

When you finally make it out of bed the coffee is cold and Seungcheol is late for lunch.

#honeyhotteoks updates #honeyhotteoks fics #seventeen ff #seventeen fic #svt fanfic #svt ff #scoups x reader #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #scoups #scoups fic #scoups smut #scoups ff #seungcheol smut #seungcheol fluff

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sanjisprincesswifey · 11 months

Text

romance alphabet ⋆ trafalgar law

summary: what it's like to fall in love with the surgeon of death

a ⋆ affection; how affectionate is he? how does he show his affection?

at the start of the relationship, law almost never shows any affection toward you. he’s helplessly awkward when it comes to lovey-dovey stuff, but after a couple awkward encounters, he’ll gain some confidence and start providing you acts of service.

it’s honestly the little things with law; he’ll bring you a blanket and pillows to nap in his office; he always makes sure you eat, even going as far as to make you meals when you’re hungry; anything you desire, law will provide.

b ⋆ best quality; what's his best quality as a romantic partner and why?

law is an incredible listener. he is always paying attention to what you say no matter the time or place. he always remembers the smallest of details, which of most you didn’t even remember yourself. by knowing every detail about you, it’s his way of showing you how much he cares.

c ⋆ confession; would he confess his feelings first? if so, how would he confess?

lmao no. he’d rather roll over in his grave than tell you he likes you.

the only way you’d find out is through someone else (bepo).

d ⋆ dating; what is it like to date him? how is he as a romantic partner?

in the beginning, it feels as if your relationship is stagnant, nothing really changes from just being friends. until one late night when he asks if you want to see his coin collection or his comic books and it’s like his whole personality does a complete 180 on you, seemingly out of nowhere. suddenly you’re dating a complete nerd who is (un)secretly obsessed with you.

law’s definitely the type to remember all the little things you say, has a journal full of your favorite things, but rarely opts to be overly romantic. he would give you a present that reminds you of someone special to you and treat it as “no big deal.”

all in all, he’s a bit embarrassed to be romantic, but he’s definitely got the spirit.

e ⋆ emotions; how emotional is he with you? does he show his emotions right away or does it take time for him?

you’re lucky if you get a passive aggressive sigh from law for a very long time. he doesn’t start dropping his walls until a couple months to a year, again, if you’re lucky.

poor baby is so afraid to show you any real emotion because of all his unresolved trauma, so just be patient with him.

f ⋆ flirt; how good is he at flirting? does he flirt well or often?

oh my god, no; it’s the opposite in fact. he’s terrible, genuinely terrible.

he’s awkward, stuttery, sweaty, and kinda just stares at you when he can’t get any words out.

on the rare occasion he’s mediocre at it is when he’s drunk and no other time, you cannot convince me otherwise.

g ⋆ gifts; is he a gift giver? what kind of gifts does he enjoy giving you?

yes, but he’s not so much for the pageantry so they’ll be subtle; a new blanket on the bed for you, a framed photo of the two of you suddenly appearing on your nightstand, stuff like that.

h ⋆ hugs; does he hug you a lot? what are his hugs like?

he loves to hug you only when you're in the privacy of his room on the polar tang. he doesn't care much for the affection otherwise, that's what he tells you anyway. you later learn he's just embarrassed to be so romantic otherwise given his reputation.

since law towers over you, he practically throws his body weight into you when you hug. he wraps his arms around your waist, tightly clinging to you as his head droops into your shoulder. the majority of his body weight is now shoved into your shoulder like the big 26-year-old baby he is.

i ⋆ i love you; does he tell you that he loves you first?

again, i have to laugh, but no. maybe subtly, but never, ever directly and he will never say the actual words. he’ll be more ‘romantic’ or whatever his version of romantic is (being more attentive), and then the crew will catch on. law definitely talks about you way too much to the crew and they'll all realize that he loves you before you do.

j ⋆ jealousy; does he get jealous a lot? if so, for what specific reason?

oh, yes; probably one of the most jealous men in all of one piece, in my opinion.

law is deeply insecure, afraid of love, and has abandonment issues and if he feels even a twinge of jealousy it’s like his heart breaks on the sight.

however, it does take a little bit to get him jealous! he’s not threatened by normal interaction, but if someone was a bit too overly affectionate with you (read: luffy, sanji, or eustass), that’s enough to make him jealous. it’s the act of seeing someone be vulnerable with you the exact same way he is with you that drives him nuts.

k ⋆ kisses; what part of you is his favorite to kiss? how often does he enjoy kissing you?

his favorite is any place that’s intimate and vulnerable; being able to claim you as his because no one else gets to touch you where he does.

you can find law in the crux of your neck almost every night, it’s one of his favorite spots because he can practically breathe in your scent and lovingly kiss the area as much as he likes without getting tired.

after your relationship reaches the point where he’s no longer uncomfortable to show affection it’s like every second of the day with him. you wouldn’t think it by the look of him, but law adores kissing you even if it’s a quick kiss to your forehead in passing. it’s kind of his way of showing you love even when you aren't directly saying it and he gets super whiny when you don’t show him the same affection in return.

l ⋆ love language; what’s his love language?

acts of service. law thinks of it as an incognito way to show affection even when he’s around others. it’ll range from throwing a blanket on you when you “accidentally” fall asleep in his office to offering to aid you on specific tasks “just in case.”

m ⋆ memories; what memories of you two are the most precious to them? why do they treasure them?

it has to be the first night he said, ‘i love you.’ it’s after you had fallen asleep in his arms, your light snores echo around the room.

he has an elbow propped up against the pillow holding his head and the other arm draped around you. your bare skin is so warm against him, it was such a strange sensation compared to the cold air that usually envelopes him in his room.

your calm expression twitches slightly indicating that you had to be dreaming and law hopes it was about him.

his gray eyes were so soft; his facial muscles felt so foreign in such a gentle position, but he couldn’t help it when he was holding you so close to him. knowing that the person before him loved him so much.

that meant so much to him because it was the first time in 14 years that law had finally regained the love he had lost so long ago.

n ⋆ nicknames; what nicknames does he prefer to call you, if any at all?

law is such a ‘doll’ kind of guy. it just falls from his lips like butter and he’s so quick to start calling you that too.

o ⋆ on cloud nine; what is he like when he's in love? how different does he act when he's in love?

when law falls in love with you, it is probably the most confusing time in your relationship. it’s kinda like when the grinch’s heart grows three sizes but instead of accepting it, it scares the hell out of him. he’s extremely avoidant of you and won’t explain anything so you gotta corner him in his office.

he’ll get scared, possibly shed a tear or two and tell you just how terrified of love he is. you can’t really blame him, so you tell him you obviously love him too. he turns into such a clingy, obsessive guy after that. he loves having your attention; his walls really come down and he’ll show you all his nerdy collections like comic books and coins.

when law is finally ready to admit that he’s in love with you, he is the softest and most pure a man could be. he’s vulnerable and feels safe with you, so that means he’s extra protective.

p ⋆ pda; does he openly express pda? how affectionate is he in public?

unfortunately, law hates pda. in fact, law is very adamant on keep your relationship personal and private. due to his traumatic past, law chooses to keep you a secret so as to not put you in harm’s way.

though when you make the alliances that law does, he comes to realize that word will get out eventually. law attempts to threaten luffy to keep your relationship under wraps but, c’mon, it’s luffy.

q ⋆ quirks; what are some things you’ve learned about him since being in a relationship?

he’s very particular about everything; he always needs a solution to every problem. for instance, whenever you two have a disagreement, he’ll be unsatisfied until he has a direct solution for your issue and become frustrated if there isn’t one.

because of his particular-ness, when it’s his turn to plan date nights, they are often planned to a t. you will leave a certain time, the activity will take place at a certain time, etc., you think it’s completely adorable even when he’s frustrated when you’re a minute or two behind schedule.

r ⋆ romance; is he a romantic partner? is he cliché or creative?

contrary to popular belief, law can be quite romantic. he’s a ‘flowers just because kind of guy’ and is extremely creative in the gift-giving sentiment.

he opts for purchasing presents you’d actually enjoy, taking his time and putting energy into a photo album or scrapbook. the gestures from law are always well thought out; it’ll always be work he’s proud of.

s ⋆ smooch; what was your first kiss like? where did it happen and was it planned?

your first kiss is something law wishes you didn’t remember. he waited 26 years to kiss someone, did either of you really think he’d be any good at it?

it, of course, was a bit awkward. you never assume someone could mess up a kiss but somehow, he did.

you were in his office, chair placed closely next to his as you read over whatever book he was fixated on this week.

it was late, the both of you were sleep deprived beyond compare, but every time law glanced over at you reading the page he was, he swore his heart jumped out of his chest.

though the kiss itself was not planned, he spent at least 15 minutes mentally calculating if he should make his move.

when he finally mustered up the courage, he turned to you in an awkward position and just kinda stared between your eyes and your lips.

it doesn’t take long for you to notice your boyfriends gawking and before you can ask him if he’s okay he smushes his lips to yours.

of course, having no prior experience, he doesn’t really move his lips at all and just sits there for a couple of seconds until you pull away.

he’s confused, but he’s definitely got the spirit, so you give him some leeway and show him how it’s done.

the both of you laugh about that memory now, but he still feels embarrassed if he thinks about it for too long.

t ⋆ true love; does he believe you were destined to be together?

nope. he doesn’t believe in fate or astrology or anything of the sort but is definitely open to it if you do.

even if doesn’t believe in any spiritual destiny, he constantly finds himself thanking whoever may be up there that he is lucky enough to have you.

u ⋆ ultimatum; what is a dealbreaker in his relationship?

law needs loyalty. he needs to know that you are his and, more importantly, that he is yours. the hardest part about falling in love for him is that he is terrified that you’ll leave him and having your loyalty reassures him (most times anyway) that you’ll always be by his side.

v ⋆ value; how important is the relationship to him? what is it worth in comparison to other things in his life?

okay, don’t shoot the messenger, but at the start of your relationship law didn’t think that highly of it. due to his lack of emotional affection to or from anyone, he honestly saw no important significance for being in a relationship.

in classic law fashion, nothing really changed between you two until he realized how much your absence affected him. the romantic longing in his heart was such an unfamiliar feeling he mistook it for some kind of heart condition.

eventually law comes to realize that, maybe, someone who is as closed off and lonely as he could fall in love and then he is putty in your hands. the minute he knows he loves you, you become his number one priority. he tries to maintain some of his natural disposition, but he is so desperate to be loved by you that he does anything and everything for you.

w ⋆ wild card; a random relationship headcanon!

law is borderline obsessed with you. he’ll know things about you that you don’t even remember telling him. he’s kind of a freak if we’re being honest.

he steals clothes from your room because they smell like you, takes photos of you without your knowledge so that he can keep them for later, and bought your engagement ring the day he knew he loved you.

obviously, he has no intention of ever telling you any of this because he doesn’t need you to know just how desperate he is for you to love him.

law knows that you’re his and either he’s marrying you or he’s dying alone, no other option.

x ⋆ x-factor; what drew him to you?

law loves how different the two of you are. you aren’t opposites by any means, but the way that your emotional intelligence and situational awareness (especially when it comes to such a brooding man such as himself) differ so greatly from his that it entices something within him. he doesn’t consider you the opposite of him, but he views it as what he lacks, you offer.

he knew you had these qualities from the very beginning, that’s why he asked you to join his crew, but seeing how well they transfer over to your relationship made him swoon even more.

y ⋆ yearning; when does his find himself missing you?

though he never prefers to be put in situations that are rambunctious or crazy, law finds himself missing you most when he’s in them. something about having you there, holding his hand or talking to him makes the situation so much better.

z ⋆ zzz; what is his favorite sleeping position? is he the big spoon or the little spoon?

something about spooning always gives law so much comfort. he loves to cling to you, to have you pulled so tight to chest that you can feel his heartbeat through your back.

while the warmth and closeness being the big spoon provides him is extremely comforting, law does prefer to be the little spoon. when you’re as private and apathetic as law is, he’s practically begging to be held by you. since he rarely gets a good night’s sleep, being in your arms is the best melatonin substitute.

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law headcanons #law x reader #one piece #one piece x reader

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l4long-winded · 3 months

Note

carmy’s gf being a very good dirty talker and carm getting flustered and turned on ❤️‍🔥

okay, first off, i am terribly sorry this took so long for me to answer. i was staring at it for ages just trying to think of a scenario where i could implement it. i'm a perfectionist. i procrastinate and i whine about procrastinating and then i panic if i don't have the right setting. and then i remembered... this is for fan consumption, who gives a fuck?

this concept is special to me because, to me, carmen doesn't have a whole lot of experience. it's why i LOVE the sub!carmen agenda. he gets tongue-tied pretty easily when it comes to voicing his emotions and then considering his stutter growing up, it makes sense to me that he would become bashful in the bedroom setting. especially with someone who knows what they're doing.

walk with me, anon. we have much to discuss... (sorry in advance for the title; i got carried away)

o.s. holland cream filled

summary: carmen is trying to keep it together. your talented tongue does not have the same goal (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)

warnings: the title, described anxiety, dirty talk (duh), inexperienced!carmy, pussydrunk!carmy, established relationship, no use of pronouns for reader, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, mentioned handjobs, gold chain mention, praise kink, carmy whimpers, subby!carmy, sort of switch!carmy at the end, implied edging, longwinded descriptions, carmy begs a little, kissing, cursing, carmen's pov, use of "babe" and "baby" (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 2,018

( this work has been cross-posted to ao3 )

Every sinewy muscle twitches across his back whenever you get to this part, rippling underneath his skin as he pushes forward. He could easily lift his head up and away from where he’s currently got it nestled against your neck, but perhaps this is the masochistic side of him, the same one keeping him in the anxiety hellhole that is the kitchen. His sweaty curls graze your neck, near your jawline, his teeth and lips dragging over your throat. Every sound you make rumbles on him, vocal chords he tries to map out within. He likes to think he’s tasting your moans when he drags the flat of his tongue over your sensitive flesh. Your mouth is so fucking close to his ear right now, and it’s his own damn fault, the consequences of having you like this not unfamiliar. But this is the torture he anticipated and still dove headfirst into.

“You’re stretching me perfectly, Carmy.”

You always say shit like that. It throws off his rhythm, much like it always does, his equilibrium, clumsily attempting to fall back into it after collapsing all of his weight into you for a brief moment. It’s like you’re trying to make him falter on purpose with how you ramble. He doesn’t miss the hiss he ignites from you after accidentally sinking his cock all the way to the hilt from the misfire. His palms create divots in the mattress as he raises himself off you, his gold chain dangling near his chin. He hopes it tempts you enough to bite at it like you did a few nights ago. It would stop you from uttering anything else that’s going to shade his ears rosy and it’d snugly pull him back down chest to chest with you.

“That’s alright, look at me, watch my face,” you reassure him, taunting him without meaning to, directing his focus where he knows is going to both exacerbate and enhance this experience. As his hips continue to hump against you, somehow yanking the blankets and the mattress into handfuls resuming his pace from before, your lips part in ecstasy, desire swimming in your dilated pupils as you stare up at him. “ Good, fucking good, y-your c-cock is so thick,” you blurt, and Carmen’s breathing picks up. The oxygen is depleting quickly from his lungs, speed beginning to build and build.

“There, there, god, fuck me, Carmy, fuck,” you moan, and he maintains where he is. He’s so close, but he wants to ensure you’re feeling good right now, too.

Carmen’s intense blue eyes are latched on yours, his mind racing when you tell him to fuck you. He wants to respond, reply how he is fucking you, but he can’t find his voice. All he can do is grunt and nod his head obediently when you’re like this. As badly as he wants to match your dirty talk, he’s afraid of stuttering, of the vulnerability, of popping his load because every filthy sentence, every pant of his name, threatens to end it all too soon. If he even tries, says anything about your pussy, or your mouth, or your tits, how much he adores your pleasured sounds, that thing you do with your tongue, how you tighten around him and it’s impossible to not to drill his cock harder—

“You wanna cum?” You ask.

Yes, yes, yes, I wanna cum so fucking bad, please, please beg me for it, he thinks, but it doesn’t actually leave from between his lips. He swallows his own spit, instead, nodding his head violently as he breathes short and rapid exhales.

He’s confused when you don’t immediately respond to this thought. Of course, you’re not a mind reader. You’re observant, much like he is. He relies on this skill of yours sometimes because he’s never been good at talking. He seeks comfort in you. While your way with linguistics in this setting sends him reeling, he also needs it, he craves it. He only hates it because he can never last long with it implemented.

Yet, it is nice when you’re whispering your praises into his ear, sliding your spit slick hand up and down his cock, thighs spread over his open legs. You’ve helped him plenty of times during those heavy rushes or while you’re making out on his couch and he’s too tired to give you what you deserve. He likes it close and you know that. That ability of yours is tremendous for instantaneous relief.

You should know to deliver what he needs right at this moment. He’s hanging on by a thread, a thread, where is that stunning talent of yours when he needs it?

“Wanna cum? Wanna f-fill me up ‘til I’m leaking?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck you, what are you doing to him? He’s straining right now, forgetting to breathe as he glances at your features in disbelief, his arms shaking whenever you cup his face into your hands, thumbs occupying the dimples of his cheeks. His hips grind into you in an offbeat fashion, his voice close to whimpering at this point from how he’s holding himself off. Carmen weakly nods again this time, willing his orgasm away by closing his eyes. He can’t lose himself too much in the feeling. In the tantalizing image of his cum spilling out of you when he inevitably pulls out.

“Look at me,” you say, and Carmen’s eyes shut tighter before he pries them open. He really can’t look, but he also can’t stop himself from listening. You’ve got him wrapped up in a trance. He’s doing his best right now to continue, to hear you, to not give into the edge he wants to hurdle over. “You w-wanna cum for me, Carmy?”

It’s the third time now that you’ve asked. Normally, you’re forgiving. You see how frantic he is and you croak about how much you want him to shatter for you, how he deserves it, how he’s earned it. He doesn’t feel like he’s earned it right now, somehow keeping himself at bay, no matter how desperately he needs to release into your cunt. The more he looks at your expectant features, he realizes what it is that you’re waiting for.

He can’t do that. He doesn’t have the sheer willpower for it that you do. He shakes his head slightly, crimson painting his face and neck, a bit of embarrassment coating his perspired skin, recrimination of the damned knitting his eyebrows together. He doesn’t trust himself. The moment the syllables leave his mouth, he’s bound to be floundering around like an idiot, and the only thing in his head right now is how badly he needs to cum. He can’t ruin this moment, and he has a strong feeling that he will.

But those hands of yours stop him from denying it. Your pressure heightens just a touch, just enough to gain his attention back on your face. You level him with an earnest gaze, lashes batting, nose nuzzling up against his in unspoken affection. There’s no doubt in his head that you could continue to talk and help him out here, but you’re waiting on him patiently. He’s got you both of the brink of madness, and you’re withholding on purpose, softly kissing him while his hips fuck into you in a contrasting slick and clapping noise. He knows what you want. He sighs in frustration, resigning himself, because although he could give into the fire, it wouldn’t burn as good without your permission. He lives for how it tempers inside of him.

“Y-yes,” he manages. You’re too cute, the way your face lights up. You swaddle your plush bottom lip between your teeth, eyes flickering with hope and encouragement for him to continue on. Carmen has to inhale first, a gauche tickling traveling up his throat like a spider climbing up a tree, crawling along the lining of his esophagus.

“Yes,” he repeats, “I-... I w-wanna cum.”

Saying it out loud further solidifies it, eroding his self control bit by bit. It’s salient in how the vein in his neck protrudes, and he’s there, he’s about to lose it. He’s going to, feeling his pressure wean the deeper he digs. You’re taking a lot of time looking him over. He wonders if you’re getting off on how needy he is right now, extending this out, when he was good, did exactly what he knows you wanted without having to ask. He’s about to babble and stutter, he’s got it at the tip of his tongue. Your walls tighten suddenly and this time he does fucking whimper.

“... and?”

And? And what? Where are those gratifying admirations of yours for him? He’s done what you want, he’s certain of it, and his balls are heavy right now, thudding into the meat of your ass.

“Baby, please,” he gushes, but you don’t relent. Your walls tighten around him again. His cock twitches in apprehension, almost there, almost letting it go.

It hits him, then. He remembers what you said a while ago. He’s far too gone to think about what this is going to make him look like, his eyes widening with his epiphany. He starts to move faster again, a new flame lit under him.

“And f-fill you up,” he rasps, “f-fill you up, I… I need to f-fill y-you up with my c-cum. Fuck, fuck, fuck, uh, uh, uh.”

Carmen’s fears were correct. He’s a stuttering, whimpering mess, becoming more vocal as he recites your words and then some. He navigates his way back to earth when you kiss him, shutting him up from cursing. He smothers a few more fucks against your mouth, expecting you to let him have it. Only, you don’t. Your half-lidded gaze greets him when you depart, your voice holding tremors on it. You’re close yourself. He has no idea how you can do this to the two of you. Aren’t you as strung out right now as he is?

“Until?”

Carmen almost swallows his tongue with how quickly he inhales, that one word a knife into his abdomen. The muscles there contract and flex, cock throbbing, his fingers close to piercing the mattress. He holds out a little longer, his next exhale opening his mouth, tongue lolling out.

“‘Til… ‘til y’leaking.”

Triumph cascades over him seeing your pleasured grin. He’s unable to hold the dam back any longer when you nod your head. His body molds against yours, a cry leaving his lips whenever he buries himself. He pants against your neck, his arms engulfing you into them. He greedily plucks your body off the mattress, surrounded by him in every aspect. While in his embrace, the stream of his seed goes on and on, expansive pulses before each spurt. You’ve drenched him, arched into a pretty curve, thanked him while you found your own solace, and he thinks he might disappear into thin air from how light he feels.

He doesn’t. He remains sprawled on top of you, the weight of him crushing you from how he refuses to let you go. If you complained, he would roll off, but you don’t. You peck gentle kisses over his shoulder, featherlike.

“Did so good,” you mutter. “You’re perfect. All mine. Please me like no one could. So, so good for me. Such a good b—”

Carmen’s hand covers your mouth, shielding himself from further onslaught. He removes his head from your neck, still out of breath as he looks down at you. The knife through the hand of his tattoo sits sideways, your bright eyes blinking at him. He sees a mix of amusement, desire, mischief, and confusion all rolled up there.

Carmen leans down, kissing his own tattoo. The action might seem insignificant to anyone else, but when he feels your lips purse into his palm as if kissing him back, he knows it’s not insignificant at all.

“Sorry, babe,” he murmurs. He starts to move again. The sinful sound that vibrates against his palm is a muted symphony to him, but he doesn’t take his hand away.

“I wanna last longer this time.”

#l4l.writes #holland cream filled #l4l.oneshot #l4l.carmy #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #the bear fanfiction

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2-dsimp · 6 months

Note

Ok so everyone and their mother has yandere CEO/ boss x a secretary/assistant/intern blah blah blah

BUT! Hear me out...what and a yandere assistant x boss darling??

Cw: slight blood/gore, obsessive/possessive tendencies, self-sabotage, lack of self worth,

Synopsis: 【You are the overseer in charge of the finance floor of the company SupeCo. And you happened to be issued a brand you employee who was albeit a greenhorn. But nonetheless passionate in preforming his duties as your assistant. You’ve in the short couple days you’ve grown a soft spot for him. And constantly prayed that he’d make it through his job, in one piece since you discovered that he tended to be accident prone.】

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

Yandere assistant! That’s always in attention whenever his darling boss is ready to put him to work. He’s practically twitching from getting withdrawals of receiving less than the amount of orders he’d like to have from you.

Yandere Assistant! Whose mind is buzzing 24/7 and is utterly pathetic all by his lonesome. And craves for you to throw whatever tasks you’ve got at him, anything at all, to satisfy his dream of being your personal lap dog.

Yandere assistant! Who loves hearing your voice calling out for his support from across the office hall. He just cannot relate to how his other coworkers cower at their names being announced by their own superiors. Since you were the best in his humblest opinion. And the only one he’d deem to be of importance to be more precise.

Yandere Assistant! That subtly does self sabotage if only to hog your time, in making you giving him lengthy instructions. On what to do since he clearly couldn’t fathom how to print out a piece of paper.

Yandere Assistant! Who swears that he’s not incompetent on purpose. But it’s just that he adores the way you’re so kind with your words. And oh so patient when it comes to correcting a member of your staff. Even going as far as to touch him to show exactly how to maneuver the printer. In short all of your lovely gestures made him jumpy. As he was sweating bullets trying not to turn into a feral degenerate and bend you over the broke ass printer to properly “use it”.

“Tem? Temothy~? Hello? I’m sorry Am I going too fast for you or—“

“Ah nonono absolutely not! Y-you’re fine B-boss I c-could hear you j-just fine!”

Your new hire assistant, Temothy, stuttered as he blinked out of whatever daydream he got afflicted with. Fixing you a mousy smile as he haphazardly fixed his messy overgrown bangs which obscured half of his face from view. You noted that He always had a soft spoken voice along with his habitual stutter speech pattern. Whilst he fidgeted a bit underneath your explicit worrisome expression as you fretted over his wellbeing like a mother hen.

“I only need to cut these stacks of paper for y-you with this cutter r-right? I’ll get on T-that right a-away!”

He managed in a squirrelly tone as he shakily grabbed ahold of the paper cutter. Lining up some blank pieces alongside the dotted lines with an unsteady hand.

It was his first couple days on the job and you found him to be quite the ditzy klutz but an endearing one nonetheless. It was refreshing how eager he is to always lend a helping hand even after he had just gotten off his shift. Which made you feel bad to ask him to come in to work when it was his day off since some of your employees decided not to come in for their shift.

“Wait Temothy dear you’re holding it the wrong way—!”

“Ouch! Oh my stars I’m t-terribly sorry B-boss! I got it all fuckin b-bloody! Ah paper towels… where’s the paper towels?”

You couldn’t believe your eyes and what you were hearing. Was this man seriously worried about how he dirtied the cutter station to which he earnestly tried to clean. While the skin on his palm was sliced open from pinky to thumb. And was bleeding rapidly as bloody rivets ran down his inner wrist.

“Temothy forget about the cutter and papers okay? You don’t need to worry bout none of that. What we need to do is patch you up first and foremost”

You cooed as you briskly took his uninjured hand in yours and ushered him to your office where you always had a health kit stored underneath your desk. Completely missing how his breathing slowed and his wide eyes dilated into small heart pinpricks.

“Y-yes Boss…thank you for c-caring I’ll be sure to return this d-debt”

His usual timid expression darkened into something more depraved as a small fanged smile made its way onto his chapped lips. Of which he licked as he gave an experimental squeeze to your hand only to shiver in delight when you responded back in kind.

No one had ever been this kind to him, due to his bad luck he’s always the type to be scoffed at without as much as a second glance. Hell it was a miracle that he even landed this job as your assistant in the first place. But now that he was here he intended to stay permanently and serve you for the rest of your days as your loyal assistant. Whether you liked it or not, you couldn’t ever get rid of him not when you’ve already gave him your hand to hold near in dear to his heart.

#Temothy the assistant #yandere drabble #yandere oc #tw yandere #yandere male #male yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yanderecore #yandere community #yandere concept #yandere cw #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere male x reader

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ichorai · 8 months

Text

letters of loki ; david loki (m).

pairing ; david loki x reader (afab, gender-neutral pronouns)

synopsis ; nsfw alphabet + micro-drabbles for each letter.

words ; 4.0k

themes ; smut, fluff, barely-there angst, established relationship

warnings / includes ; mentions of scars, unprotected sex, mentions of bondage, oral sex, light roleplay, 'honey' as a pet name, david being exhausted </3

a/n ; been in a terrible fic-writing slump so i tried out the nsfw alphabet format for the first time! hope you all enjoy :)

main masterlist.

A — AFTERCARE

Definitely the kind to hold you close after the act, his arms firmly wrapped around your waist, his nose buried into your shoulder. David’s mostly silent, but would gladly listen and hum along if you wanted to start up any kind of pillowtalk. He just likes hearing the sound of your voice. Eventually, however, he’d get up to take a shower (he’s a creature of habit, after all), and bring you anything you needed, like a glass of water or a damp towel.

“Your hair’s wet,” you mumbled in complaint when he slipped back under the covers after his brief shower. His cold hands slipped beneath the wrinkled button-up shirt you were wearing (his, he realized a second later), and you made a disgruntled noise.

“Sorry, honey,” he replied with a soft huff of a laugh, but made no move to shift away. Instead, he pressed closer, kissing a warm spot just above your ear.

B — BODY PART

David’s favorite body part of yours would definitely be your hips. Or your eyes. Or your thighs. If you were to ask him, he’d give you a different answer every single time. There’s so much he loves about you, he can hardly pick just one. Though, he really does have a particular fondness for holding onto your hips, even in a non-sexual manner. He also loves any and all of your moles, scars, or birthmarks. Would press kisses against them because he finds them so beautiful in their uniqueness, and it makes him feel close to you. He thinks tattoos are hot as fuck on you too—especially the small ones in the most random places.

Your favorite body part on him would be his hands. He found it strange at first, how your fingers always found his, how you’d spend hours in bed simply staring at his knuckle tattoos, tracing over every inked etch and every bruise, scar, and callous. It didn’t come much of a surprise to him when he found that you liked the sight of his hand pressing down on your lower stomach as he fucked into you. It got you going—and whatever gets you going, gets him going, too.

The movie the two of you had put on was entirely forgotten. He was on the ground, knelt down in front of you, tongue tracing utter sin along your soaked cunt. And his hands—oh, his hands—one was gripping on your right thigh with iron-strength, forcing you apart to make space for his insatiable self pressing against you. The other hand was intertwined with your left palm, squeezing every once in a while, as if in reassurance. How sweet of him to hold your hand while he utterly destroyed you.

C — CUM

He’s a classic man—he likes to cum inside of you the most, but wouldn’t mind seeing it all over your tummy or over the inside of your thighs. If he was to make a mess, he would immediately clean it up with a damp towel after, asking if you were okay.

“Gonna cum inside you—that okay, honey?” he grunted right by your ear, one hand splayed over your stomach, pressing with just the right amount of pressure, and the other gripping your hip tightly.

“Yes—yes, please, David,” you moaned, breath catching at his name as you moved to lay your hands over his so you could squeeze them earnestly. “Need you to fill me up.”

Just the sound of your voice was enough to push him over the edge. He pistoned his hips against yours a few more times until he doubled over with a gruff noise, hot cum filling your throbbing pussy until it leaked out around his still semi-hard cock.

D — DIRTY SECRET

There’s a set of handcuffs in the bedside drawer just for emergencies. But David’s always wanted to ask if you’d be willing to try it out in bed. He’s not even entirely sure if he would enjoy that, since he prefers to keep his work separate from home, but the thought of you trusting him enough to keep you bound to the bed wasn’t exactly unappealing.

David could only imagine how beautiful you’d look with your wrists up above your head, cuffed to the headboard as you looked up at him with those pretty eyes of yours. How the metal would look like against your skin as you tugged and begged for him to let you touch him—

“David?” you asked with a mildly curious tone, jolting him out of his thoughts. His head turned to you, in your soft pajamas, having just brushed your teeth and washed your face. You were about to slip into bed. “You okay? What are you thinkin’ about?”

“Nothing, hon. Let’s go to sleep.”

E — EXPERIENCE

He knows what he’s doing, but he hasn’t been with a lot of people before you. Two or three one-night stands, and maybe one barely-there relationship that didn’t last very long. Before you came along, he hardly had enough time to sleep, much less concern himself with having flings. Once he met you, he was much more determined to reorganize himself so he could make time for you.

The diner was buzzing with activity that night. You were sipping on a strawberry milkshake, telling him about how you’d love to see a jaguar in person one day. He was smiling, thinking about how beautiful you were, even beneath the harsh lighting of the diner. And then—then it was all spoiled, because he caught sight of his ex in another booth. It hadn’t ended well—she left in a fit of anger and tears, frustrated that David hardly ever made time for her anymore.

Almost immediately, you noticed his change of demeanor, and reached over the table to take his hand. His tense muscles relaxed just a bit. Something you always managed to do with very little effort—it was an uncanny talent of yours.

“You wanna get out of here?” you offered. If you noticed his ex, you didn’t say anything. For that, he was grateful. “We can watch a movie at home.”

“That sounds great, actually.”

F — FAVORITE POSITION

Loki’s got a particular fondness for reverse cowgirl. Don’t get him wrong, he loves missionary and doggy too, but there’s just something about reverse cowgirl that itches him in just the right way. He likes reaching over to press down on your stomach from behind while he pounds into you, and he also likes how it’s easy access to your clit. Plus, you really enjoy hearing the gruff noises he makes right by your ear, so you’re not at all complaining.

“David!” you cried out, voice strained with ecstasy.

“I hear you, baby. Moan for me,” he muttered from behind you, sweaty chest pressed flush against your back. David glanced down and gave a guttural noise upon seeing a creamy ring of your combined arousals at the base of his cock. Another erotic sigh fell from you when he reached down to rub circles over your clit, making you keen with shocked arousal.

G — GOOFY

Very rarely would sex with David be light-hearted or humorous. The two of you are usually far too caught up in a pleasure-ridden haze. But if you happened to start laughing or smiling, he’d give you a loving half-grin before making it his mission to get you back into a moaning mess.

“That tickles,” you half-laughed when he skimmed his fingers up your sides, smiling up at him. He only barely made a humming noise before he thrust back into you—and the grin melted right off your face.

H — HAIR

He takes good care of his hygiene. Granted, he’s usually preoccupied with work to spend too much time grooming himself, but he keeps things clean down there. He also knows you’re a big fan of his slicked-back hair, so he does take the time to make himself look presentable in the morning. You’d also told him once while he was shaving that you liked how he looked with a beard—he’d really have to consider growing it out for you.

“I like how it looks,” you told him one morning before he had the chance to shave. “Your stubble. I think you’d look so hot with a beard.”

“You think so?”

“You should try it. That caveman look. It’ll suit you.”

I — INTIMACY

David can be incredibly romantic when he wants to be. Flowers and your favorite takeout are things he’d grab for you on the way back from work. He’s a detective—he studies you, observes all your likes and interests, and he’s a very fast learner to top it off. Kisses during sex are also not uncommon, and he would definitely press his lips along your neck or on your cheek, whether he’s on top or behind you. And, as mentioned before, he does hold your hand a lot. When he’s feeling more affectionate than usual, he’d murmur how good you are for him in your ear.

“You feel so good, honey. Doin’ so good for me,” he groaned, firm arms curled around your waist as he bucked his hips into you. At his praise, you arched your back so you’d press further into him, a breathless keen falling from your lips.

“Yeah?” David asked in smug approval. “You like that? You like being good for me, hm?”

J — JACK OFF

He rarely ever masturbates, because he’s got you around. And because he’s working so much. He feels as if it’s a waste of time if it’s not with you. But on the rare occasion you were out of town for longer than usual, he’d give into the temptation in the shower just once, imagining his wet fist was your warm cunt.

He missed you more than anything. All he could think about was you and your smile, your laugh, your beautiful hips and legs and thighs—

Fuck, even the cold shower he was standing under wasn’t helping his hard-on go away. With a muffled noise of frustration, David switched the water over to scalding hot, and curled a sopping hand over his throbbing cock. He leaned his forehead against the condensated tiles and closed his eyes, thinking about you and your delicious fucking moans.

K — KINK

Mentioned before, but handcuffs! He likes that you trust him enough to be at his mercy, and he also thinks you look incredibly hot tied up. Another would be when you tell him what you want him to do to you—that gets him going so good. David also loves when you tug at his hair right at the root—makes his eyes roll right to the back of his head. He also really doesn’t mind when you scratch your nails down his back. Seeing the red marks afterwards feels like an award more than anything.

It surprised him just how good it felt when your nails lightly scratched at his scalp. He peered up at you from his position (between your gorgeous thighs), tongue dragging torturously over your sensitive clit. It surprised him even more when you took fistfuls of his hair and tugged with just the right amount of pressure. He made a noise of approval right against your cunt, the vibrations making your back arch so that your cunt pressed up closer to his face.

L — LOCATION

In bed is his go-to, since the two of you would usually have sex super late at night or really early in the morning. The couch in your living room is also home to lots of impromptu sex, mostly during the weekends. The kitchen counter and the dining table aren’t exempt, either.

The stir-fry you were cooking up crackled and popped in the pan, just about ready. From behind, David’s arms wove around your waist, his nose running along the curvature of your neck. It was only when you felt his stiff hardness against your back did you halt your ministrations.

“Here?” you asked with a sweet smile, turning your head to the side so you could see his sheepish expression.

“Here’s good,” he replied, before turning the stove off for you and crowding you up against the kitchen counter.

M — MOTIVATION

Your voice gets him worked up the most. Especially when you make it go all low and you whisper right into his ear—he gets hard just from the thought of it. You could be talking about the most asinine topics, and he’s looking at you like you’re already begging him to fuck you. Whenever you wear his clothes, too—preferably with nothing underneath—it just makes you all the more irresistible to him.

It was rare for the both of you to wake up lazy, with no plans for the rest of the day. But today—today was a miraculous weekend where both of your off-days lined up. And so that only meant you got to lounge around wearing David’s shirt, whispering pure filth into his ear so he’d push you up against the closest surface and fuck you with no abandon. It was simply heaven.

N — NO

Anything that could potentially really hurt you. He’s alright with a little bit of spanking here and there, but slapping you across the face is a hard no from him. He already sees quite a bit of abuse and violence at work, the last thing he’d want to do is replicate that with you. David can call you dirty names if you’d like, too, but he’s not very keen on being on the receiving end of it. Reminds him of his military school days. And, if it wasn’t obvious, none of the typical “gross” kinks, like piss and shit. He’s not into that at all.

“Before we do this,” David started, trying his best to quell his racing heart, despite the fact that he’s slept with you three times prior to this. It was all still so new to him. “I just wanted to make sure—you’ll let me know if you’re uncomfortable, right? Or if I hurt you in any way, okay? I need to know if you’re not… enjoying it.”

“Okay, David,” you said with a serious nod, wrapping your legs about his waist. “I promise I’ll let you know.”

O — ORAL

Loves giving and receiving equally. On days where he’s come from work utterly exhausted and too tired to fuck you, he’d have you hanging right by the edge of the bed, where he’s kneeling on the ground, licking lazy patterns up and down your aching core. Eating you out also makes for brilliant foreplay—David likes to tease it out, and he especially likes the way you tug at his hair and groan out his name. As for receiving, he loves to pull your hair just as much, low moans of appreciation falling from his lips.

It was heaven between your legs, he thought, brows knitting together as he hiked your thighs up higher on his shoulders so he could properly bury his face into you sopping pussy. The noises you were making were going straight to his cock, which ached within the confines of his trousers. Even when you’d come twice from his tongue, David just kept going, humming in amusement when you began to whine with overstimulation.

P — PACE

It really depends on the day. Sometimes he wants to burn off some steam and frustration—goes all rough and quick until both of you are seeing stars. Other days he takes it slow, drawing it out to savor it as long as he can, drenching the sheets with both sweat and cum.

“David—David, honey,” you cried out into the mattress, fists curling against the sheets. His cock was hitting all the right places inside of you, so fucking deep. “Please, please, go faster.”

He let out a guttural noise when you tightened around him. “No, no, honey… I’m taking my time with you today. Wanna make you feel every inch of me.”

Q — QUICKIE

Much to his chagrin, the weekdays usually leave him no other choice than a quickie. He’d certainly prefer it if he had the option to take his time with you, but David makes the most out of it regardless. You certainly don’t seem to mind—though, you’ve convinced him to come in late to work a handful of times.

“I’m gonna be late for work,” David grunted right into your mouth as he pounded into you. The squelching sound of his cock hammering into your throbbing cunt was enough to leave his cheeks warm and flushed. “It’ll be all your fault, honey.”

You clutched onto his shoulders, your forehead drooping down onto his cheek, far too delirious to come up with a coherent response.

R — RISK

He’d be more than willing to try out new things with you. He’s especially a big fan of when you come to him proposing a new position to try out. However, David isn’t likely to try out anything new on his own, so it’s all up to you. He’s just happy to do whatever you want to do.

“Hey, David?”

Your boyfriend glanced up from the paper he was reading, brows quirked.

“Well, uhm,” you wrung your hands together, with a sheepish expression, “I was wondering if we could… try something out in bed tonight.”

David blinked once, twice, and a third time. He put the paper down. “Of course, hon,” he said, a soft smile playing at the corner of his lips, “We can do whatever you want.”

S — STAMINA

Usually only one or two rounds since he’s already so worn out from his job but you can easily work him up into a third round if you really wanted to. The rounds can last pretty long, though—he’s good at pacing himself and also makes sure that you’re feeling good, too.

“Again?” he panted with a tired grin when you rolled him over so you could clamber onto his lap, grinding your slickened cunt against his spent cock.

“Mhm,” you replied, nodding. Your hair was a complete mess—David took pride in being the reason you looked so sexily disheveled. “You don’t even have to do anything. Just—lay there and let me take care of you.”

“Can’t argue with that.” David’s muttered words tapered off into a low groan when you sank down onto him.

T — TOY

He wouldn’t own any toys of his own but if you owned a vibrator he’d definitely tease you with it during foreplay. Not at all the kind to be insecure about you using toys—in fact, he’s glad you have a way to feel good on your own whenever he’s not around to take care of you. Independence is incredibly sexy to him, after all.

The gentle buzz of the vibrator against your clit made you buck your hips up, to which David only let out an amused hum of laughter. One of his hands pressed down on the expanse of your stomach to keep you pinned down onto the bed.

“Stop squirming around, honey,” he muttered, teeth nipping at the inside of your thigh. “Relax—let me make you feel good.”

U — UNFAIR

David can be a huge tease if he wanted to be—he knows the exact buttons to press to work you up until you’re right there, but he’d pull away just before you could cum. Would have a wide, smug grin on his face, but he’s quick to cave once you start moaning out his name.

“Why’d you stop?” you huffed, breathless, propping yourself halfway-up with your elbows so you could look down at him. The lower half of his face was covered with your arousal.

“Hm?” The faux noise of confusion aggravated you to no return. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shot you a cocky smile, before kissing up your stomach.

V — VOLUME

He’s not very loud, mostly quiet grunts and the occasional murmur against your skin. He’d much rather hear you—he loves it when you cry out for him, and tell him how good he feels against you.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he plowed into you—you could feel the vibrations of his breathless groans and choked grunts. With a particularly hard thrust, your pussy walls shuddered and clenched around him, the lewd cry you let out enough to etch a permanent blush over David’s cheeks.

W — WILD CARD

Roleplay wouldn’t even be something he thinks of doing but if you brought it up, he’d find it so incredibly hot if he pretended he was arresting you before bending you over a table and fucking you senseless.

“You gonna punish me, detective?” you asked with a coy smile, hand trailing down his chest, toying with the buckles of his belt.

David blinked at you—trying his best not to break character. With firm hands, he yanked your fingers away from his belt and twisted your arm around over your back, crowding you against the table. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and may be used against you in a court of law.”

It took all it had in him not to laugh when you let out an aroused moan.

X — X-RAY

Size really doesn’t matter because he knows how to pleasure you regardless, but he’s definitely quite girthy. The first few times he had sex with you, he’d take it slow because he really didn’t want to hurt you and he was stretching you out so good.

“You’re so big,” you whispered as he carefully eased you onto his cock, hands gripping your hips tight. “Was worried you wouldn’t fit when we first had sex.”

David let out something akin to a hiss and a groan, his forehead leaning against yours.

Y — YEARNING

David’s sex drive isn’t all that high. It was mentioned before that you could work him up most of the time if you wanted to but unprompted, David would be just fine with having sex around once a week, especially since the two of you are so busy with work and quite tired when off it.

“We haven’t had sex in a while,” he whispered as he clambered into bed.

You muffled a yawn behind a fist. “Do you want to now?”

David rubbed at the corner of his eye, also fighting back a yawn. “I’m exhausted.”

“Me too.” The two of you laid down beneath the comforter, curling into your favorite positions like magnets snapping together. “In the morning, then?”

“Sounds good to me,” he replied, planting a chaste kiss on your shoulder and watching your eyelids slide shut.

Z — ZZZ

Sleep is hard to come by for David, so he’s usually up for a while after sex. Just holding you, listening to you breathe, his nose pressed against your shoulder. He likes watching you sleep—not in a weird, creepy way, obviously, but he just likes how peaceful and restful you look. He finds that he sleeps much better with you around. Still doesn’t get enough hours, but it’s much more restful compared to his nights without you.

You collapsed into the mattress face-first with a satisfied noise, which was muffled into your pillow. Sweat glistened on both of your bodies, but neither of you had the energy to go wash up before bed. David’s eyes darted down to your legs, suppressing a grin when he saw his spend smeared between your thighs.

“You’re too good, David,” you muttered, having turned your face away from the pillow, shooting him a lazy, blissed-out smile.

Funny, he thought you were too good for him. His arms curled around you. “G’night, hon.”

“Night, David.”

#david loki x reader #detective loki x reader #jake gyllenhaal x reader #david loki fanfiction #detective loki fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal fanfiction #david loki smut #detective loki smut #prisoners 2013 #prisoners fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal smut #david loki fluff

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funhouse-mirror-barbie · 3 months

Text

So, I’d initially made a post that said something along the lines of “it’s weird that they had Stolas say this”—

“Only to remind the audience like 9 min later of a specific time where Stolas talked down to Blitzø”

And I also included the original scene for context/comparison:

But after posting someone DID point out that in the song’s lyrics during that sequence, Stolas was questioning his past choices and coming to the realization that his actions had affected Blitz—They stated that initial scene of him saying he doesn’t look down on Blitz was a set up for this later self-reflection on his behavior in “All 2 U”, and potentially realizing how harmful his actions have been.

And I think this is a very fair interpretation and observation—as well as something I missed, and that’s on me.

I like talking about these things openly, because I think it is really nice to get other people’s perspectives and interpretations of stuff like this, and I’m also susceptible to missing things on a watch-through.

I decided to delete the original post, b/c I realized I agreed partially with their assessment of the scene, and because there was another comment that was a little spicier, and I didn’t want people to start arguing back in forth in the comments. That’s happened before and it’s always kind of annoying.

With all of that said, I do still think those lines were a weird choice, and I want to go over why the song “All 2 U” fell really flat to me in regards to Stolas’ self reflection. (More below + TLDR @ the end)

There is, so far, a really consistent pattern in Helluva Boss’ writing, where every time Stolas comes close to reflecting on the way his actions could have negatively affected Blitz, the focus almost immediately shifts back to Stolas’ own feelings and situation.

It’s kind of become the status-quo for HB—Stolas will have a brief moment of questioning himself, before the story continues to frame Blitzø as being in the wrong.

We see this really blatantly in “All 2 U”—where anytime Stolas DOES begin to question his own actions, Verosika and Vortex chime in and immediately assure him that it’s Blitz who’s in the wrong:

And then even after, these lines where he questions himself further

The song just CONTINUES to focus only on Stolas’ feelings, and prioritize them above all else. He has a brief moment where he wonders if he’s in the wrong, before brushing those concerns away and continuing to refer to Blitz as “the motherfucker”.

The montage during this also goes to great lengths to show how regretful Blitzø is hearing all of this.

He feels terrible that Stolas is hurt—even though Blitz does NOT owe Stolas anything. You can disagree with me, but based on the arrangement that STOLAS created, their relationship is entirely transactional (and coercive, but I don’t have time to get into that mess right now).

Blitzø is in no way obligated to treat their “relationship” as something that holds meaning because of this—if Stolas is hurt by Blitz’s not reciprocating his feelings, that is ENTIRELY on Stolas. Blitz has not wronged Stolas in any way by not reciprocating those feelings.

But it’s so very clear that the WHOLE PURPOSE of this song—and this entire episode, even if there is a moment where Stolas questions himself—is to portray Blitz as the one in the wrong.

Even in the scene where Stolas questions what he’s done to Blitz and wonders if he’s in the wrong, his flashbacks include these scenes, which are framed as Blitzø being uncaring/blowing Stolas off after their arrangement:

This is probably one of my biggest issues with Stolitz as a ship, and with Stolas as a character. That the writing explicitly caters to Stolas’ feelings and beliefs, and (so far) refuses to hold him accountable for anything he does that negatively affects others. His actions have consequences just as much as Blitz’s do, but the narrative constantly frames him as being a victim.

You can say that both characters are in the wrong all you want, you can say to the audience point blank “this is what I intended with this scene”, but you still have to actually. write. the developing relationships and action of the story. Telling the audience about development after the fact is just poor storytelling.

I’ve already gone over how the narrative rarely holds Stolas accountable in the conflicts he has with Octavia, but it’s very much the same with Blitzø.

So much so that Autistic Swag on YouTube was able to make a Stolas Hypocrisy compilation video:

youtube

And because I know there’s a chance of people reacting to my criticisms this way, no, recognizing a character’s hypocrisy in the narrative is not “media illiteracy”.

Media analysis is still derived from the actual text of the story. I see fans (not just of HB, this is a general problem in a lot of fandom spaces) making wild leaps and jumps about story’s character developments, world building, plot-points, etc. and then claim that people who disagree with their interpretations are “media illiterate” and like.

Those are headcanons. Those are just personal headcanons that you made based on what you wanted to happen in the story.

Which is fine!!! Which is something that is very fun to do!!! I do it a lot actually!

Like, I could say that the green light in “The Great Gatsby” actually represents envy and that Gatsby is always staring at it because he’s actually jealous of Daisy and wants to transition from male to female and live as a transgender woman.

And that would be a really interesting concept to explore! But it would also be a headcanon because in the context of how the text is written, is clearly not the case.

Pointing out that Stolas’ actions are morally dubious at best, and that he is flawed and has done wrong and has very clearly hurt Blitzø by coercing him into a sexual relationship so Blitz can keep his livelihood isn’t media illiteracy. It’s literally. It’s just the text. Audiences aren’t media-illiterate for seeing that.

Final note time— I want this post to age poorly. I want so badly for there to be a future episode where Stolas is really truly held accountable for the ways in which he has hurt Blitzø, the ways in which he’s been classist and racist toward imps, the times that he’s neglected Octavia, and yes! Even for cheating on Stella!!

And I want this NOT because I want to see Stolas completely villainized or beat down, I want this because I want Stolas to develop and grow and change as a character. I want Stolas to actually have the nuance that the writers say he has!!

Again, as always, please know that if you love Stolas and Stolitz that I am REALLY not trying to rain on your parade. I’m not trying to convince you that you’re not allowed to like the story as is, or that your opinions are wrong. That would be really silly. You are allowed to interpret all of this literally however you want, even if we disagree.

The only, only thing I would ask you to please consider, is if you are doing the work of writing these characters development outside of the story, or are you building on what the writers have already shown you. I am not asking this to be condescending or elitist.

This is something I have to actively ask myself when reading and analyzing text and stories, and when analyzing and editing my own writing and work.

That’s all. Thanks for making it to the end of this long ass post. If you’d like to have a polite discussion about your thoughts on all of this I would genuinely like to hear it. I will delete any arguments or fights in the comments tho. Thanks again.

——————————

TLDR:

-“All 2 U” falls very flat as a song where Stolas re-examines his actions because even tho this self-reflection is set up, nothing ultimately comes of it and things immediately go back to the status quo

-This is a very consistent pattern with Stolas as a character, due to this he is severely under-developed, and feels like a completely different character from his season 1 appearances.

-People realizing that he has not had active development between seasons 1 and 2 and pointing that out is not “media illiteracy”.

-Final side note—I think the “both sides are wrong/fucked up” angle really COULD have worked, if after the bridge where Stolas questions his actions, he acknowledged that HE was also “a motherfucker”. But. Nah. Oh well.

#helluva boss critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #stolitz critical #hb critical #stolas critical #(uh I guess…it’s writing criticism of how Stolas is written he’s not like..a real person)#funhouse convo #media criticism #media critique #long post

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redroomreflections · 4 months

Text

Not Easily Broken Chapter 4

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader go through a tragic divorce

Masterlist | General Masterlist

4/10

Note: Yes, it's getting finished besties.

W/c: 4.7k (whew!)

“When you are in love and you get hurt, it’s like a cut. It will heal, but there will always be a scar. “ - Soo Jie

When everything else fell away, only one truth remained. You love Natasha. You love her with everything in you. Which is why you’re lying awake in the bed of your hotel room with her inches away from you. You want to reach out and pull her into your arms. You want to kiss all of her fears away and show her how much you love her.

She’s lying on her stomach facing you. Her left hand rests just under her cheek while her right is stretched upward towards the headboard. It’s a habit left over from the Red Room that you hadn’t seen her do in years. Not since you two spent most of your nights together. The first night she slept with you she explained the handcuffs. It was a method Madam B and her other trainers used to ensure the girls of The Red Room wouldn’t attempt to escape in the night. For Natasha, it brought comfort to her during her adult years. Over time she’d ditched the cuffs and settled for cuddling into you.

There were many nights she begged for the cuffs to ensure she wouldn’t harm you after a nightmare. It saddens you to see she may be feeling unsafe or insecure enough to unconsciously need to do it again. You can see the faint tear stains on her cheeks. They’re a harsh reminder of her confession from last night. Her brows are knit together. Does she ever let herself rest?

Everything is hitting you at once and it’s a terrible feeling. You sigh shifting in the bed to get comfortable. You don’t know how long you’ve been awake. Lying here. Thinking. The need to sleep has evaded you. This time of night or morning feels pretty serene all things considered. No one here to talk, no one asking you questions about the latest project, and most of all no one here to lecture you on anything. All you’re left with is your thoughts and the sound of Natasha’s soft snoring next to you.

What time is it exactly? Too early to tell. Usually, you would be out of the office by now but today was an exception. You can feel the exhaustion settled deeply in your bones. It’s a constant tidal wave caused by deep-seated guilt. The darkness of the night no longer comforts you as the sun begins to rise. When was the last time you let yourself sleep in? You peer up at the ceiling. The weight of the world is on your shoulders and you don’t know what to address first. How could you have messed up so badly? How had everything gone to shit so quickly? Would things change between you and Natasha? How did you miss all of her signs that she needed you?

Natasha can assure you many times that she was happy and you still won’t believe it. You swallow thickly as you think about all of the dinners you missed. The recitals and the baseball games. The nights you didn’t come home early enough to put the kids to bed. Natasha did everything on her own while still working. She put the time aside to be there for the kids.

You feel like such a jackass. You became something - someone you promised yourself you’d never be. Ryan and Emma were not an afterthought. They were the sun and the moon. Your world revolved around them and yet you neglected that. You neglected your family and all you want to do is go back.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Natasha murmurs into her pillow. Your eyes fly to her. You hadn’t realized she was awake. She nuzzles her head into the pillow while taking a deep breath. Her lashes flutter as she opens her eyes. The green is mesmerizing. Natasha looks good even in the mornings.

“I’m sorry,” You find yourself saying. Natasha hums. She lowers her right hand hoping to get the feeling back in her arm as she stretches. The arch of her back catches your attention. She yawns and you wait for her to say something else. Finally, she lifts so that she’s just a bit closer to you. You want nothing more than to pull her into your arms.

“What time is it?” She asks. She can see the sliver of light from the curtains.

“Early,” You shrug. The urge to be near her is harder to ignore. You scoot closer. Natasha is bolder. She always has been. She shifts so that she’s cuddling into you. She nudges your chin with her nose, snuggling into your neck while throwing her left leg over your hips. Her leg settles between yours as she breathes in your scent. She’s wearing the same pajamas from the other night. Which means her bare legs are pressed against yours. The skin-to-skin contact is comforting. She trusts you at this moment to bring her that comfort she so desperately needs.

You’re unsure where to place your hands. Usually, your hands would be placed on her behind. Butt rubs were a thing you liked to give often. Natasha was always a happy recipient. You’re reminded that back then the butt rubs usually ended with sex but you somehow think that won't be appropriate. Other times a butt or back rub was soothing for her and you'd both fall asleep. What if she doesn’t want you to touch her? What if she’s not ready for that? Would sex complicate things? Not that it’s your intention. It’s a weird thought that takes you out of the space until Natasha grips your hand in hers before placing it on the curve of her bottom. She doesn’t seem to have the same reservations that you do. Her hand leaves yours to rest in the space between your breasts.

It’s a stark contrast to the beginning of your relationship where you both had a lot to learn about loving each other and intimacy. Despite her aloof demeanor, Natasha was a big softie. Her love language was physical touch while yours was quality time and affirmations. You worked so well together to fulfill each other's needs. Seems you would have to relearn that.

“I’m yours,” She whispers into your neck.

“Huh?” You ask. You’re almost sure of what she said but you want her to say it again.

“I’m yours,” Natasha lifts herself so that she’s looking into your eyes. “You don’t have to wonder if you should touch me or not.” She emphasizes her words by wiggling her behind into your hand a little more. You almost forget how well she knows you.

“I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” You admit.

“You won't.” She replies. You nod. You’re encouraged by this as you palm her ass more. You’re massaging the firm, round cheek familiarizing yourself with her body again. She lets out an airy and satisfied moan.

“Nat,” You question. She opens her eyes, glancing at your lips, before trailing them up to your eyes again.

“You don’t have to ask to touch me either,” You say. She gives a subtle nod before raising herself so that her lips align with yours. You think she’s about to finally kiss you when she raises her hand to run her thumb across your bottom lip. Her touch is feather-light. You can feel the temperature in the room rise that much more as you simply touch each other. It feels like an eternity as her hands go from tracing your lip to caressing your cheek.

You could feel your heart practically beating out of your chest at this point. It was beating faster and faster until finally, her lips touched yours. It was a quick kiss. Just a gentle pressing of lips before she pulls back. She searches you for any protest before diving in again. She melted in your arms, moaning against your lips, as your touch against her bottom increased. You’d rather walk through fire than lose the feeling of Natasha against you. You don’t realize how much you’ve missed her until now. How much you crave her touch.

Natasha kisses like it's the last time. She kisses like you’re the only person in the world she wants to kiss and it’s true. She moves her knee to change position, unintentionally brushing against your core. You pull away from her lips unable to hide the cry that leaves you. Natasha moves again and this time you know she meant to do it as her thigh pushes into you again. A jolt of arousal courses through you.

“Nat,” You breathe. It’s so much different than earlier. It’s needier. She flexes her thigh again and this time you rock your hips against her. She watches your face for a reaction and you don’t disappoint. Your eyes snap shut as you focus on the feeling of her surrounding you. Your senses were overloaded with Natasha. She kisses you again sliding her tongue into your mouth just as she nudges her knee against your clit. Her left hand travels down your body to find its way under your shirt. She skates her fingers upward until she’s holding your breast in her hands. Her thumb skates across your nipple pulling another moan from your throat. God, you’ve missed this. She pinches the now-hardened bud between her fingers.

Natasha’s lips leave your lips to nip at the juncture where your chin meets your neck. Your moan is louder, more brazen, and indicative of how much you want her. A sign of how much you need her. She abandons her time at your breast to run her fingers across the waistband of your pajama bottoms.

She searches your face, waiting for you to say no, but you only give her an enthusiastic yes. Her fingers push against the barrier of the shorts to find you clean-shaven. You were not expecting sex on this trip. Truly. You just didn’t like to be unprepared. The first feel of Natasha’s calloused fingers parting your lips is pure heaven. Your breath hitches as she glides through your folds. You’re wet. Almost embarrassingly so. Neither of you wants to think about how long it’s been. She knows your body like no other.

She knows little things about you that no one else does. She’s aware of that spot just below your ear that causes shivers up your spine. She knows the way you prefer the tight circles around your clit rather than a direct firm touch. Natasha knows your body and how to tease you just right.

“Is all this for me?” Her lips are pressed against your ear. You frown in frustration as you try to get her to apply more pressure. You nod instead as words slip from your mind. “Would you like me to fuck you?” She asks. Her voice is warm and raspy and so damn hot. She places her index finger on your clit causing your eyes to shut tightly. “Answer me, Lyubov.”

“Yes, Nat, I want you to, shit, I want you to fuck me.” You nod enthusiastically.

“Hmm,” Natasha hums. You’re not sure how this quiet morning escalated so quickly but you aren’t complaining at all. Her fingers circle your entrance collecting your wetness before coming back up to rub your clit again. She returns to your entrance ready to push inside when there’s a knock at the connecting door.

“Mommy?” Natasha pauses looking at you in panic. Did you lock the door?

“Mommy, Ryan, and I are real hungry,” Emma calls through the door. “We’ve been waiting for twelve years.” You can hear her twist the knob. Your daughter was so dramatic. Also quite effective at ruining the mood. You whine as Natasha pulls her fingers out of your shorts.

“Duty calls,” Natasha says as she begins to leave the bed. You reach out for her hand taking the digits that were almost inside you into your mouth. You suck her fingers clean, enjoying the taste of yourself, as Natasha’s eyes widen. She narrows her eyes as she presses her fingers further into your mouth until you gag just slightly. Oh, she fights dirty. Finally, she pulls her fingers away from your mouth with a pop. The frown on your face seems to amuse her as she stands again.

“Mama, Mommy, did you hear me?” Emma calls through the door again.

“Yes, Printsessa, patience,” Natasha calls back. It’s something she often has to tell the little girl. There’s an audible huff from the little girl before she walks away you assume. “She gets that from you,” Natasha informs you as she walks into the bathroom to wash her hands and brush her teeth. You’re not sure you can move right now.

“Me? Absolutely not. I’m very patient.” You fall back into the pillows.

“Really?” Nat peeks her head out of the bathroom door. She eyes you for a second before going back inside. “Are you coming to breakfast with us?”

“Sure, just, let me shower again.” You roll from the bed to land on your feet. Your underwear sticks to your intimate area most uncomfortably. You walk into the bathroom, stepping up to Natasha, as she finishes washing her hands. You grip her hips pressing your own into her. She rubs her ass into your front as you kiss along her neck. Her hands grip the counter to keep her steady. She watches you in the mirror as you nip at her skin. You won’t mark her despite how much you want to. You want her to go home with your markings all over her body. You want Richard and everyone else at the compound to know who she belongs to. It’s a startling passion you haven’t felt in a long while. “Shower with me,” You murmur against her skin. You rock into her and she meets your thrusts.

“We can’t,” Natasha sighs as you cup her breasts through the silk shirt. “We shouldn’t.” Natasha shakes her head. You stop to make eye contact with her in the mirror. You can see the seriousness of her tone. Something’s changed. Despite her arousal, there’s a truth in her words. Should you be having sex right now? Wouldn't that complicate things? You’re not quite sure. Natasha turns in your arms to look at you. She’s apologetic. Almost guilty. “I’m sorry I just… I don’t know what came over me in there but I want us to work through everything first without having sex.” She bites her lip nervously. She’s afraid of your answer. “I’m not saying I don't want to. Soon. Just not now.”

“Of course, yeah.” You nod. You’re a bit disappointed but you understand her stance. It might be what you both need. At least for now. “I’m going to shower.” You tilt your head towards the mentioned. “I promise to keep my hands to myself if you do decide to join.”

“Unfortunately I can’t promise the same thing,” Natasha frowns. “Go, shower, I’ll get the kids dressed and think of a place.” You nod again. She seems like she’s thinking of something before she closes the few inches between you to kiss you again. “I love you.” She says.

“I love you too, Natasha.” You give her another kiss. You step back and wait for her to leave the room. She closes the door behind her with a final glance at you. You let out a harsh deep breath before turning to the shower. This was going to be hard. You’re willing to do whatever it takes.

****************

After wrangling the kids together the first stop of the day is Keke’s Breakfast Cafe. You sit in a booth with Natasha’s thighs touching yours. Ryan and Emma sit on the same bench. You help Emma into her booster seat so that she’s higher than the table. You’re on the outer part near the aisle when the waitress approaches. She’s young, mid-twenties, and has a bright smile. She glances around the table with her eyes ultimately landing on you.

“Hello, I’m Dee, I’ll be your server for today. Can I start you off with drinks?” She pulls out her pen and pad waiting expectantly.

“I’ll have water, the kids will have apple juice, Natasha?” You look over to her.

“I’ll have water too, please.” Natasha answers. Dee takes your drink order and leaves you to look over the menus.

“Can we get whatever we want?” Ryan asks. You help Emma with the menu.

“Yes, whatever you want.” You answer him. He reads the menu with ease.

“Well, I want chocolate chips,” Emma informs you. She points to a picture of the silver dollar pancakes. You nod taking note of her order. She decides on sausages, scrambled eggs, and a side of strawberries. Ryan decides on the same.

“I don’t know what I want,” Natasha shrugs as she searches the menu. “Something light.” She says as you lean over to see what she’s seeing. Despite her words for something light, Natasha decides on the Eggs Benedict with a side of pancakes.

You’re more inclined to choose waffles and then eat off of Natasha’s plate. Dee comes back around in five minutes to take your order. She writes down the notes with interest when you ask her about the pin on her shirt.

“You’re from Brooklyn ?” You ask and she nods. “What has you down here?”

“My grandmother lives here.” Dee shrugs. “I get to live with her and I help take care of her.” You nod in understanding. “I’ve been trying to get a job at Stark Hotels. I heard their night auditor job pays well but until now I’m here. I’m sorry I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” She apologizes.

“No, no, it’s fine.” You wave a hand in dismissal. “I work for Stark Industries and I know a few people over at the hotel.”

“Really?” She asks. You don’t notice her stance but Natasha does. She’s flirting now. She bats her lashes and folds her arms under her chest pushing her breast a bit higher. Natasha’s eyes narrow and she places a possessive hand on your thigh.

“Yes, if you give me your number and full name and a good email to reach you I can forward the manager your name.”The conversation seems innocent enough. Until she directs her next words to Natasha. Dee scribbles all of her info on a blank sheet in her pad while ripping it away. She places it in front of you.

“Your friend is doing me a solid.” Dee smiles at Natasha. Natasha looks around the table and before back to Dee. What about this picture would indicate that you’re just friends.

“Wife,” Natasha corrects her. Your eyes snap to Nat and she squeezes your thigh in return.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed since I didn’t see any rings.” Dee apologizes. “You have such a beautiful family.” Emma steps in this time with a hint of indignation.

“I’m still hungry.” She frowns up at Dee. She’s picked up on the woman’s flirting.

“Oh, right, I’ll get right on that.” Dee smiles down at Emma. “Thank you again.” She scrambles away to the back to put in your order.

Nat’s grip on your thigh loosens as Emma strikes up a conversation about dance. She tells you both about Libby Gibson and how she pulled her pigtails one day in class. You almost tell her to hit the girl back but you know that wouldn’t be a proper response. Violence is never the answer. Right?

“And Mommy, you missed DisneyWorld. I met all of the princesses but not Snow White or the Evil Queen.” Emma frowns.

“Well, I am sorry for missing that. How about we go today ?” You suggest. Emma and Ryan cheer together.

“You don’t have work again?” Ryan asks.

“No, I-I took some time off to spend more time with you guys,”

“And Mama?” Emma adds.

“And Mama,” You confirm. Your hand finds Natasha under the table.

“For real this time? You’re not just tricking us? That would be kind of mean.” Ryan doesn’t smile just yet. His words are innocent but you know there’s hurt behind them.

“I promise, baby, I’m here with you guys.” You tell them.

“Good,” Ryan looks down at the placemat coloring page. He finds the red crayon and occupies himself with staying in the lines.

“I’m glad you’re not mad at us anymore,” Emma begins and you stop her.

“No, baby girl, I was never angry with you.” You’re not quite sure this is a conversation to have in a restaurant but there are not many people in here at this hour.

“But you moved out? And you and Mama weren’t liking each other anymore.” Emma tilts her head in confusion. Dee picks this time to bring the drinks to the table. She sets them in their appropriate place with a smile before leaving you. “I told Mama I could pick up my toys clean my room and eat all of my vegetables. I did that and you didn’t come back. That sounds mad.” She’s blunt you’ll give her that. You also don’t miss the way she blames herself for your absence.

“Come here,” You gesture for her to come around the table. She slides from her seat just as you turn with your legs out towards the aisle. You help her climb into your lap wrapping your arms around her waist. “There is nothing that you did or will do that will make me stop loving you. There’s nothing that you or Ryan did that changes the way I love you. You’re my entire world, baby girl. You should pick up your toys and do all of the other things because you’re supposed to. Not because you think it will make me happy. Which it will be I would never leave you for that. Never.”

“But you have a new apartment all by yourself,” Emma points out. She frowns with tears shining in her eyes.

“I do,” You confirm. “ I know that must hurt for me to not be around as much as I used to. I apologize for being a bad mommy during these times. I know it hurts your feelings. You and Ryan. I’m sorry to both of you.” You glance over at him as he continues to color. You can tell he’s listening to the conversation. “I would like a chance to make it better.” You know truthfully there’s nothing that can take away the hurt.

Emma looks down at her hands and then into your eyes. “Is it bad that I was mad at you?”

“No, you’re allowed to have feelings.” You assure her. “I won’t be mad no matter how you feel. Just because I’m your mom doesn’t mean you always have to be happy with me. Sometimes I do things that will make you mad. You can always tell me.” Emma nods.

“I didn’t like that you made Mama cry,” She whispers almost as if she’s afraid of your reaction. This time she allows her tears to roll down her cheeks. You lift your hands to wipe them away.

“I know baby, I’m doing everything I can to make that up to you, Ryan, and Mama.” She leans into your chest listening to your heartbeat. “I’ll do everything in my power to not let you down.” Emma doesn’t make a move to go back to her seat. You turn to make the both of you more comfortable. “Did you hear that, Ryan? I’m apologizing to you too.” He looks up from the paper to Natasha. She’s been silent this entire time. He seems to be asking her permission to accept your apology.

“You don’t need me to say yes to how you feel.” Natasha reaches her hand across the table to take him in hers.

“Okay,” Ryan’s brow knit together. “I forgive you.” You give him a small smile. This conversation seems to be ending as Dee delivers the food to your table. Emma refuses to leave your lap so you opt to eat with one hand while holding her. She eats her pancakes enthusiastically before sharing her strawberries with you. She plops a few strawberries into your mouth.

“Good, Mommy?” She questions.

“Good, Emma.” You laugh.

She raises her hand to trace your chin with her own. Suddenly she turns your head forcefully to inspect something on your neck.

“What’s this? A bruise?”

Your eyes fly to Natasha’s and she has the decency to look guilty. You hadn’t noticed any hickies when you showered earlier this morning. She hides a smile behind her hand.

“It’s just a rash that I got from Mama.” You explain.

“Mama? How?” Emma tilts her head.

“I’ll let Mama answer that.” You lean back so she can see Natasha much better.

“Curling iron,” Natasha answers easily and Emma doesn’t question it any further.

“You should be more careful next time, Mama.” Emma scolds her.

“Yes, ma’am “ Natasha laughs. “I promise to be more careful when using the curling iron.” She laughs again at the face you’re making.

You’ll find a way to pay her back somehow.

DisneyWorld with the kids turns out to be a good time. You’ve done more walking than you have ever done in a single day as you make sure to hit up everything you can. Even then you’re pretty sure you haven’t seen the entire park. As the day winds down you can see the fussiness from Emma and the fatigue from Ryan. It’s time to head home. You reach a row of classic boardwalk games and suddenly you have an idea.

The first game you approach is a basketball game where you shoot hoops. You pull the five dollars from your pocket to hand to the host.

“Which one do you like?” You ask Natasha. She looks at you questioningly and you encourage her again. “Which one?” She points to the giant stuffed Goofy. No way would she fit that into her carry-on.

You roll your shoulders preparing to start the game. You set out to win only to lose. Badly. You’re not going up and you’re sure you’ve spent more money than you should. Finally, you win the Goofy and press it into Natasha’s arms. The stuffie is practically bigger than her. You wrap your arm around her shoulders as you walk with the kids in front of you towards the exit.

***********

When you make it back to your hotel room everyone is dressed in their pajamas and cuddled into the same bed. Natasha and you are on opposite sides of the bed with the kids between you. Sleep came so easily to them but you’re still awake. You lift to whisper out to her.

“Nat?” She sits up. “Let’s go.” You say as you make your way to the other bedroom. She covers the kids with the blanket before tiptoeing out of the room. The beds are much smaller but you just want to be close. She sits next to you on the edge of the bed.

“What the kids said today about being disappointed in me,” You began. You take a deep breath. “I want to be better. I know coming back home is going to be a long time from now. I want to come home a few times a week for breakfast and maybe dinner. Join you for dance lessons? I know this won’t be fixed overnight but I’m willing to work on it.”

“They’d love that,” She agrees.

There’s a pregnant pause for you to try again.

“I would like if we have some time together too?” Natasha eyes you. She’s still a bit guarded with her heart despite her weekend with you. “Just the two of us.”

“I’d like that,” Natasha smiles. She moves to straddle your lap. Your hands fly to her hips as she pushes you to lie back on the bed.

“I thought you said no sex?” You question between her kisses.

“I did,” She confirms. “Doesn’t mean we can’t make out.” She swipes her tongue across your lip asking for entry and you grant it to her.

“I like the sound of that,” You grin.

This should be fun.

---> next part

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natsxaddiction #natasha romanov #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #angst

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lightlycareless · 2 months

Note

When you’re free do you think you’d be willing to do the sfw alphabet for Naoya as well? 👉🏽👈🏽🥺

Hello!

Of course :>! I'm sorry it took a bit, but here it is dear 💖 as well as the nsfw alphabet if anyone wants to read that one too 😏

warnings: none!

Happy reading!

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Not that affectionate at the beginning. And not because he doesn’t want to, but because he’s shy/ doesn’t know how to! This man grew in a very toxic household, so we shouldn’t expect him to be lovey-dovey from the get-go.

It takes him a while, but with you helping him open up and succumb to his feelings, he’s really very affectionate. He likes to hold your hand, hug you, kiss you all the time, you know the drill. Though his affection is unquestionable as seen in all the things he gives you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Naoya can’t be your best friend. He wants to be your husband!!! AND HE’LL ALWAYS STRIVE FOR THAT. But in the meantime, he’ll do his best to make you happy, listen to you, cheer you up, help you study (if students) or distract you when stressed by going to a festival or such. But still, he does all this with the intention of getting close to you in a more intimate manner, so there really is no friendship per say. (Dos that make him a terrible person? Kind of. I mean, I never envisioned him being friendly either way hahah. Naoya does not know how to socialize without belittling others; except you, instead, he likes to show off.)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

YES. In bed to begin. Naoya likes to feel big and strong, that he’s protecting you, so you’ll always be the little spoon. Though he wouldn’t mind if you got to be the big spoon one day, specifically those times where he’s exhausted from work and all he wants to do is rest and be with you.

From there, he always has to have his arms around you. To show you’re his 😊

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

For sure he wants to settle down. He wants to have 5 (thousand) kids with you. Though he won’t do anything domestic let’s be real. But he won’t have you do it either, he’ll hire someone instead. You’re his princess, after all. (Naoya still wants you to be fully dedicated to his children though, a nanny would only come in if he sees you overwhelmed or you ask for one.)

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

OOF. Naoya would never end things with you; when he falls, he falls hard. He’s never felt this way before with anyone one else! So this is more likely your doing.

…

You know what. I can’t write it. I genuinely believe Naoya would only love one person in his life and never open up again. So, following the idea you’re the one to call it quits, the first thing he’ll do right afterwards is fight for this marriage. He doesn’t let you go that easily, asks you to reconsider, and if desperate enough… well— but when he eventually sees you mean it, he makes sure you have everything to live comfortably for the rest of your life.

A house, a car, staff members to take care of said house if needed, an allowance of sorts, everything. The kids stay with you; he doesn’t trust his family, and he doesn’t think of himself as capable of taking care of them without you either (Naoya’s insecurities skyrocket from here; he doesn’t feel good enough for anything anymore ☹)

You two may not be together anymore, but he would never leave you on your own.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He feared commitment until you came along, though it would tie him down (gee, never seen that before!). Yet, as soon as he set his eyes on you, he knew he wanted to get married. It became all he wanted! Although mainly it’s because that was the only way his family knew how to handle relationships? A kind of “I want her, I get her.” There’s some courting but, you know, straight to marriage. The Zen’in don’t negotiate… that often.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Man is rough. He feels everything, wants everything. He cannot live without feeling needed by you. And he lets you know that through his touch, his kisses, his gifts, marrying you as soon as possible. His jealousy. His constant need to be with you at all times. 😊

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Yeah. He used to hate it. Made him feel vulnerable, silly until you proved him wrong 😊 He certainly loves receiving them, but he’s not shy of embracing you, especially in the way where he could just pick you up and aigujaikjgjka 🥺

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Naoya knew he loved you from the moment he first saw you. So, he’ll be the first one to say it. In those moments where he’s simply absorbed by his feelings, still in disbelief that he was capable of harboring such sentiments, yet happy that he’s capable, and that there’s someone that reciprocates them as well—inevitably uttering a quiet, yet genuine I love you at the heat of the moment, making you smile and respond I love you too.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

VERY. Naoya’s insecurities are through the roof whenever he sees you with someone else!!! He only calms down when the two are married and you’re pregnant, probably. He actually becomes even more overprotective with a child in the mix so… I guess not.

He’s going to scare anyone he feels threatened by away from you, tbh. You’re probably left alone at one point, luckily you managed to convince him otherwise and now (mostly) nobody is afraid of approaching you :’)

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Constant. Never ending. He kisses you whenever possible. Softly or roughly, it doesn’t matter. Naoya loves your lips, the type of guy to suddenly kiss you when talking. He just needs to do it! But he also loves kissing the top of your head, he likes the height difference.

As for Naoya, it’s not really where he’s kissed but more like how he’s kissed. He likes it when you place trails of kisses across his body when he’s back home from work, showing how much you care for him, worry for him. He enjoys being… worshipped.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Once again, it’s one of those things that he wasn’t all too appreciative of until you came along. The thought of settling down and having a family with you is one that motivates him every single day and when it finally happens, he’s nothing but ecstatic!

He’ll be involved as involved as he can be with his children (because of his work, but he always tries to make it up). His favorite activity to do with them is certainly training them, he likes to help them become the best they can be. Naoya also loves to take them out to amusement parks, or just wherever they want to go.

Naoya is also the type of parent that would argue with other parents about how his children are 100000 times better. He will not accept criticism. His babies are perfect. No issues will ever get solved when he’s around, you have to mediate that instead haha. I think the only other kids he cares about are the ones that are their friends but outside of that, he does not bother lol.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

When he doesn’t have to work, he likes to be lazy, stay in bed, keep you close to him as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear… but Naoya also enjoys accompanying you during your routine. He likes seeing you get ready for the day, preparing breakfast, hanging out with the kids, that kind of stuff. It relaxes him 🥺 makes him feel all fuzzy and warm inside. 💖 A reminder of who he’s doing all this for.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

While in the morning he likes to do stuff with his family, at night he only cares about intimacy—about you. He gets real crazy with that, desperate if you must. You have to put a stop to him unless he wants to get into trouble lol. Doing it before missions is strictly forbidden, because he ends up too tired to wake up early.

He’s also an avid enjoyer of taking you out of dates during that time, there’s something about the city at night that makes him more romantic. Luckily your staff is all about, so you have nothing to worry about them kids at home 😊.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

You have to be the one to ask him about himself, since he’s focused on only pleasing you (and he’s shy—a tsundere, actually). Though once he’s comfortable, the two would start to geek out about their mutual interests 😊 AND IT HAPPENS ALL AT ONCE. He does not give you pieces here and there of lore, nope, it’s all of it, so be prepared.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Easily angered… with other people. He does not see any faults in his loved ones. In fact, he’ll even go as far as justify them. Everyone else is not worth his time, but for you… for you he’ll go to the end of the world.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Everything. They do not forget things regarding you and his family. Everything else is meh.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His first kiss with you, the moment you confessed you liked him too. And the honeymoon, the feeling he got when acknowledging you were finally his wife is one he’ll never forget.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

VERY PROTECTIVE. He’ll have bodyguards whenever you go out; of course, you have to remind him that (if applicable) that you’re a sorcerer too, so you know how to handle yourself. Besides, you’re also aware of how the world is so it’s not like you leave without letting people know.

His worries skyrocketed when your daughter came along but, eventually, he calmed down a bit. Mostly when he’s finally the clan leader and he can spend more time with his family—though he’s not shy from sending someone to spy check on you from time to time… maybe… hehe.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Naoya goes all in—everything he does is expensive. Naoya wants you to have all the comforts in life, there really is no limit. (Makes you wonder if that has ever given him problems. Doesn’t seem so, but still)

You’ve grown to be careful with what you mention around him, because the moment he hears it he’s already making the necessary calls to make it happen. 🫣

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Well, the first one that comes to mind is his tendency to belittling others. It has often pushed you into uncomfortable situations where you have to apologize for him :s

That, and his other tendency of accepting missions that may or may not overlap with other responsibilities he has with you. Naoya enjoys being a sorcerer, so…

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Very. He knows he’s good looking, so he does everything possible to keep himself that way. More so if you remind him how handsome he is. Naoya teases you about it too.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

As stated, Naoya would wait a lifetime for you and he’d never love anyone else if you left. He never knew how lonely he was until you came along. So yes, you make him whole.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Deep within, he wishes his family got along with you better. He’s glad that some do, but still, Naoya can’t shake the notion that you don’t feel as comfortable as you say at the estate. Thus, he’s secretly bought an apartment/house (depends on if you have kids by then) for you to move in when you say so.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I’ve mentioned this before, but he would not like to share his partner. He does not want any threesomes, or anything else really. So don’t even mention it. Also, this might be a bit silly, but he doesn’t like it when you talk to his family, or try to get along at least. Naoya doesn’t think they deserve you and would hate to see you upset by something they said.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Because he has a strict routine he diligently goes to sleep at certain hours. Anything later than that and it ruins everything; however, he’s not above falling victim to certain… desires. So sometimes he sleeps a lot, sometimes, he doesn’t sleep at all if you know what I mean 😉 Of course, when he finally goes asleep, it’s with you in his arms. You have to be there with him, or he’ll look for you and drag you to bed lol.

And there you have it, the fluffy side of Naoya. You've changed his life, our poor tsundere husband :') alkfjagj he really needs to feel loved and appreciated.

It was a treat to write this, it gave me some ideas too eheheh❣️ thank you so much for sending in this ask!

Take care and hope to see you soon 🥰

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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anton-luvr · 11 months

Note

sungchan sfw alphabet? ty ilysm pookie 🤭

# SFW ALPHABET ; SUNGCHAN edition.

⚝ bf!sungchan x gn!reader | fluff | bf au ⚝ note ; you're welcome anon ilyt!!! enjoyyyy ^_^

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He's moderately affectionate. He likes sneaking little kisses when you're in public, holding your hand tightly in his wherever you go, and an arm protectively wrapped around you waist around others.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He would be a really annoying best friend, but in the best way possible. Likes to prank and annoy you, making silly faces while you're trying to study. But once you glare at him, he'll immediately shut up and offer you a smile of support and two thumbs up. The friendship would start with him randomly talking to you, because Sungchan is an extrovert like that.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

He loves to cuddle! He usually prefers being the big spoon, but on days where he needs some extra affection, he loves being the little spoon. Something about the way your arms and warm body wrapped around him as he rests his head in the crook of your neck just feels so comforting to him.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He would, but only after your relationship is more stable and secure. So after about half a year in, he'll be more than glad to ask you to move in with him. He's not the best at cooking, but trust that as long as Sungchan is around, all your plates will be sparkling clean.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Sungchan would cry so much... but he wouldn't drag his words or make it dramatic, he would get straight to the point. So through tears and sniffles, he'll tell you very nicely and respectfully that he doesn't think this is going to work out, and it's best for the both of you to break up.

F = Fiancé (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He's a very serious lover, so he's definitely strong on commitment. He won't hesitate nor fear it, and when the time's right, he'll propose to you. He'll love you till death do you part, just like his wedding vows.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Don't be fooled by his height and his broad shoulders that make him look like an absolute gangster. He's one of the softest and gentlest guy you'll ever know, always treating you with so much love. If you break your leg, he'll carry you around bridal style. If you had a terrible day, he'll let you cry it all out in his warm arms.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it?)

He prefers cuddles instead of hugs, so he doesn't do it often. He usually only hugs you in situations where he's craving the warmth comfort of your body against his but can't latch himself on to you and cuddle you for hours on end.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Sungchan takes his time. But when he does tell you he loves you for the first time, he'll have the sweetest lovesick smile on his face, eyes sparkling with pure adoration and love for you.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I think Sungchan gets jealous pretty easily, but not unreasonably. He doesn't mind you talking with other guys, but when they start laughing a bit too much at your jokes, the jealousy starts brewing. His jaw will be clenched, arms folded as he tries to stay calm and remind them that you're his by walking over and kissing you right in front of them.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He kisses you anytime he can. Even when they're quick little pecks on your cheek before he rushes off to work, they're always full of genuine love. He loves kissing your forehead, and he loves it when you kiss his lips.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Sungchan is so good around children!!! He knows just how to play along with your nieces and nephews, making silly high pitched voices for their plushies and acting out an entire drama. He also knows how to talk to children when they throw tantrums, keeping calm but authority and sternness heavy in his voice.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's not a morning person, so most mornings consist of you trying to wake him up and him whining 'Just a few more minutes!' and trying to pull you back to sleep with him. On the rare occasion he wakes up earlier than you, he just plays with your hair softly while pressing small kisses to your hands.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Absolutely wild, and no - not in that way. He'll tell you all the gossip from the past 22 years of his life, or he'll watch a Netflix movie with you and offer his commentary throughout the whole thing, or he'll just be play fighting with you before falling asleep in your arms.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I think Sungchan is a more... reserved person, so he'll take his time to tell you more personal things about himself. But even when he's comfortable with doing so, he tells you about them one by one, slowly. He needs to feel more comfortable with you first in order to share his deepest darkest secrets.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It'll take a lot for Sungchan to be angry. And when he's angry, he's really scary. Eyes glaring hard, his lips pursed tightly, eyebrows pulled together in a frown, and anger just radiating off of his body.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers everything about you. Not just your birthday or your anniversary, but even the little things, like how your favorite color is navy blue, how you hate green onion on your food, and how you like oat milk in your matcha latte, with less ice.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Definitely the day he surprised you with a promise ring. The way your eyes lit up with surprise and love makes his heart race, and the teary 'I love you's and soft kisses exchanged that day engraved in his mind.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

He's very protective of you. Your safety and happiness matters most to him, and he works hard for it. He'll let you go out with your friends to parties, but not without the 5-in-1 self defense kit he got for you. If you're in a social situation with him and he feels an ounce of discomfort from your body language, he'll immediately step in and see what he can do. If that includes shoving the creepy guy trying to flirt with you and beat him up to a pulp, Sungchan would do it immediately.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He puts all his effort into these things, but there are times where he'll mess up. He'll accidentally put your new white sweater into the laundry machine with his denim jacket and stain it, or accidentally use cupcake mix instead of cake mix for your birthday. But he always makes up for his mistakes and corrects them immediately.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I'm not sure if this can be counted as a bad habit, but Sungchan can be quite careless and clumsy sometimes. He'll offer to cook pasta for dinner and end up forgetting to turn on the stove, or he'll trip over the same corner of the table every time and end up with a stubbed toe.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Sungchan is fairly concerned with his looks. He focuses more on his body, always working out in the gym whenever he can to achieve his dream body and also to stay healthy.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You always bring out a smile on his face and help him view life in a different perspective, so he always feels a bit empty on the inside when he's without you for a long period of time.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Like I said earlier, he's great with kids, and he'd be the best dad ever. He just has that perfect balance one needs when it comes to children, knowing how to play with them but also knowing when to put his foot down as a parent and scold them for their mistakes. He'd also care for them in all perspectives, ranging from what they're eating to how they're doing socially with their friends.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Sungchan really dislikes unnecessarily mean people. He finds it disgusting when others talk bad about someone just to make themselves seem better, or when they're being inconsiderate of their situation.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He sleeps with his mouth wide open. It startled you the first time you slept together, but it also made you laugh with how silly he looked. He's tried sleeping with his mouth closed, but once he gets into deep sleep, it's falling right back open.

taglist: @wonbons @mxlly14 @keehobaldboy @shawyle @yenart

#sarah's 400 ! ☆#riize #riize fluff #riize fics #riize drabbles #riize scenarios #riize sungchan #sungchan #riize imagines #riize x reader

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csuitebitches · 9 months

Note

I apologize for the long ask and if this question is a bit juvenile but objectively, how can one “gain” pretty privilege/gauge how they are viewed? I’ve done well in career pursuits for how early on I am ( I graduated in 2020) but started noticing that the invites to events/opportunities where one can really establish themselves not only professionally but socially, I was getting passed over by some higher up colleagues. In speaking to a female mentor who is related to my field and the same background as me (Black), she alluded that while my race may play a small factor in it, it’s more so my appearance that may be holding me back as the personality and poise is there. Some coworkers of mine who are brilliant and POC have similar credentials and positions as I and while we are all wonderful and hard working, they (who I feel are more beautiful and put together looks-wise) have discussed privately to me they have noticed a difference in treatment between us. While it’s not right, I am adult enough to know not to let things that can be fixed hinder the life I want. Your page is a wealth of information and I appreciate how encouraging you are!!

well. I’m going to be very blunt.

it’s all fun and games to say “oh fuck the beauty standards they’re terrible and they shouldn’t exist” yes, true, unfortunately they do exist and they play a bigger role than we imagine it to be.

the first thing you have to get right is your mindset.

you need to be strong enough to admit that you need changes in X, Y, Z area but not in A, B, C area. You also need to be a little loyal towards your racial identity (for the better or worse) because that’s what is going to make you stand out.

if you have a sensitive, overly emotional mindset and you get hurt very easily / become obsessive by nature, I highly recommend you to STOP reading now.

Understand what is considered pretty in your country and area. Even in one country, beauty standards can different from the north and south. Don’t exactly try to become attractive for the opposite sex but understand what they find attractive because these guys are your primary responders to your pretty privilege. Women will be kind on the surface and so it can be difficult to get constructive criticism from them.

Understand what YOU consider pretty. Who are the women who you think are crazy beautiful? What do they look like, dress like, how’s their hair and their make up, can you replicate any of it? Rule of thumb when it comes to hair and beauty - look at influencers / celebs who are of your racial background for the best fit.

there are always a few things that are universally considered “respectfully attractive” not “you wanna fuck me attractive”- semi modesty/ modesty outfits (my father always told me that when in doubt, go for a more conservative look), hygiene, well kept hair, clean nails and toe nails, soft skin, natural make up, natural hair colour, perfume, clothes that fit, skin care, a workout routine.

pretty privilege is not just the art of looking pretty. It’s also bringing in something of value on the table. Value = money / connections / knowledge/ humour / being the fun social person / whatever value the target group considers to be the most important for you to be relevant to them. Work on your soft skills. It’s better to look half baked but have solid soft skills than to look amazing and not know how to converse.

things that one normally notices when meeting someone new:

Skin - is it clear, is the make up overdone?

hair - is it messy or does it suit your face structure?

how you smell

teeth, when you talk - and dental hygiene

shoes - are they filthy?

shirt/ top - does it fit you well (always check that the seams on your shoulder and your actual shoulder line up), the colour of your clothes

body type, posture, how you carry yourself

start with incremental changes. Make a list of things you think you could improve on (this is not a list of “ugly” things, it’s an “improvement/ potential” list). Sort them according to ease of improvement (is this going to be expensive and difficult or affordable and easy?) and time (can this be done overnight or will it take some time).

Use point 1 and 2 only as launching pads. You do not have to look like Beyoncé, you’re simply understanding what her MUA and hair stylist does for her that could work for you. After a point, you have to ensure that YOUR identify sticks out and is still there, you’re not born to imitate someone else and also, it’s very obvious when someone is trying to be someone they’re not.

again. I repeat. If you’re going to get obsessive and make yourself sick over this it’s NOT WORTH IT. If you’re not mentally capable of making these changes, do not go through it.

#Q/a #pretty privilege

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intimacyequalsdeath · 11 months

Text

Bubz's Slasher Fictober Apple Crumble NSFW Alphabets Day 20: RZ Michael Myers

Day 20 is here! Only 11 more days of Fictober to go. I've decided the masterlist menu of everything on the first of November as that's obviously the first day anything non-Fictober related will go up. I do have something special planned for later in November so do keep tuned it!

Notes: Minors DNI, Smut, NSFW.

A is for Aftercare (What they're like after sex):

Wait? You want him to do what? Um ok? He probably will need a bit to warm up to anything really fluffy since he doesn't really know what aftercare and even after you explain it he'll probably be puzzled as to why that's something you want from him so take it slow.

B is for Body Part (Favorite on them and their partner):

He like his hands. All those years locked away in the mental hospital with all the time to make his masks the way he wants them. He doesn't really know emotions but he'd like to think he's proud of them.

On you it's your neck. His hands fit perfectly around it and he can give you a little squeeze if he wants. He has no desire to hurt you but he's also literally Michael Myers so the deep down urge is still always there.

C is for Cum (Anything to do with cum):

Michael isn't really a picky guy so anywhere is fine with him. You don't really get a say in it though, he cums where he wants and if you don't like it then that's too bad.

D is for Dirty Secret:

He sometimes pictures you in his head when he's out and about killing people and gets hard. The thrill of the kill only adds to this horniness and sometimes he's forced to jerk off right then and there, an image of you riding his cock in his mind and a dead body at his feet.

E is for Experience (How experienced are they?):

He's been locked in an asylum since he was a kid so no experience when you first meet but he's a really really quick learner. After the first couple sexual encounters he's pretty much got it down pat.

F is for Favorite Position:

Again something he's not too terribly picky about. Though he does prefer ones where he's in full control of you and your body (or should I say his).

G is for Goofy (How serious are they?):

Are you kidding? I don't think he's ever cracked a smile in his life. The most you'll get out of him is an amused sounding snort but that's about it. He takes sex like killing, very seriously.

H is for Hair (How well groomed are they?):

They don't let them have razors in the asylum and that's really all I'll say. So buy him a razor and maybe at least some instructions on what he should do.

I is for Intimacy (How are they during the act, romantic etc):

Doesn't know what romance is really. I mean he knows he feels at least something for you, isn't sure what it is, but he knows he feels it. So he'll try and focus on both your pleasures while he's fucking you.

J is for Jackoff (Do they masturbate and how often?):

He does it sometimes as it says under dirty secret. It was also the only form of anything sexual he could do in the asylum so when he got out he slowed down cause he had you but he never stopped doing it.

K is for Kink (Their kinks):

Big on predator and prey, he's not going to actually kill you but he likes to chase you through the woods then have his way with you on the forest floor. The thrill of the hunt really gets him going.

L is for Location (Favorite places to have sex):

Yet another thing Michael isn't going to be picky about. He can do it anywhere and everywhere he literally doesn't give a fuck. He prefers to have a bed at least for your sake since he can get...rough but if not he'll work with what he's got.

M is for Motivation (What turns them on?):

He's just kinda always turned on? Especially when he's around you. The whole thrill of the kill and all that's been mentioned also helps to get him going. Even if it's not particularly sexual it's more adrenaline then anything.

N is for No (Something they won't do):

There isn't really anything he won't do. He quite literally down for pretty much anything. If he wants to try something it's not like you really have a say it anything anyway.

He'll never actually force you into anything though, if you don't want to have sex he'll back off and go kill someone instead.

O is for Oral (Oral Preferences):

Hear me out, I can see him as someone who doesn't really enjoy getting his dick sucked. He just doesn't see the hype around it sure it feels good but he's just kinda eh about it.

P is for Pace (How fast or slow? Are they rough?):

Really really rough and medium speed. Like I'm talking your getting pinned down with your hands above his head while he bottoms out and thrusts his entire length into you at a pace he gets to set.

Q is for Quickie ( Do they like quickies?):

You have things that can be counted as quickies but Michael really is just gonna keep fucking until he's satisfied so don't expect quickies that are actually "quick".

R is for Risk (Are they down to experiment?):

Yeah he's pretty much down for just about anything. The only thing stopping him from doing something more then once is if he doesn't like it or if it doesn't do anything for him.

S if for Stamina (How long can they go for?):

Literally forever. Don't ask me how but literally forever.

T is for Toys (Do they use toys and do they like them?):

Another thing on the list of he's down for it but if he doesn't like it he's out. He does really like watching you fuck yourself with toys though, well until he starts to get jealous and throws the toy away so he can fuck you.

U if for Unfair (Do they like to tease?):

He teases but doesn't realize that's what he's doing. Like he'll get you so worked up then just toss you aside to leave for a night of murdering people and you'll just have to wait and suffer till he gets back.

V is for Volume (How loud can they get?):

Not a peep. Dead silence. The only sound that can be heard is you if you make any noise (He makes you) and the sound of skin slapping on skin.

W is for Wild Card (Random things):

Sometimes, rarely but it does happen. If he recognizes he's been just a bit too rough with you the next morning you'll wake up to a really poorly made attempt at a breakfast and no Michael in sight. He'll deny adamantly if you EVER ask him about it but he's obviously the culprit.

X is for X-Ray (What are they packing):

9 inches, and I'll be taking no further questions at this time.

Y is for Yearning (How high is their sex drive?):

As previously talked about he can really go whenever he feels like it for however long. Especially with you around, He may not be right in the head about whether or not he loves you but he knows for sure he loves fucking you.

Z is for ZZZ (How fast do they fall asleep?):

He doesn't really ever sleep to begin with? Sometimes you'll catch him dozing off after but only for a couple hours before he's up again ready to terrorize Haddonfield.

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #halloween #Fictober #rz michael myers #michael myers x reader #slasher fic #slashers x reader #rz halloween #rob zombie halloween #halloween franchise

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wisteria-blooms · 11 months

Text

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (4/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!)

CHAPTER 4: A week before the highly-anticipated dinner, you discover something terrible. You are a hard, fact-based person; Charlie is your contrarian spur-of-the-moment partner. And he’s not shy to show you. (5.4k words)

CHAPTER 4: BOYS IN THE BLUE

The warm autumn day took a nosedive the moment you headed home. There was a light spray of rain in the gardens, and you had to march over soggy leaves to get to the front door. When you were back inside, it was even colder in the lifeless, expanse corridors and you involuntarily shuddered. It was chilly to the point that you assumed there must be Dementors floating about… oh, right, your brother and father were home.

As you ambled down the hall, you mapped out all the ways to victory. It was a play well-rehearsed and acted.

The Plan Step 1: Start argument with Lucius. Step 2: Press the issue, inciting anger in him. Step 3: Build up the anger by making valid points. Step 4: Watch his composure rupture. This is considered a victory. Just wait for his silent withdrawal because he’ll be too embarrassed to admit he’s lost. Optional Steps Step 3.a. Utilise reverse psychology (e.g. “Uncle Theo is a classic example of money not buying class. I’m so glad we don’t engage in such gauche practices.”) Step 3.b. Create fantastical scenarios to help your father see the light. Step 3.c. Rally Narcissa on your side. Lucius never argues with Narcissa.

As you passed your father’s study, you saw Lucius at his desk writing something on a long roll of parchment. He’d since changed from those ridiculously fancy dress robes to just a plain button-up shirt and let his hair down. The fireplace cackled menacingly beside him, orange flames puffing just like how he’d be within the next five minutes.

You popped your head in. “I hope your business meeting went well,” you started.

“Fortunately, it did, despite the crisis that I averted,” Lucius answered without so much as a glance up at you.

“What crisis?” you asked sweetly.

Lucius narrowed his eyes, still writing. “You know very well what I’m talking about.”

“You should recount the story for mother and Draco tonight,” you offered.

“There’s no need for it.”

“Right,” you affirmed. Again, you didn’t want this dinner to have to happen. This conversation was a means to call it off. “I reckon it was hard to take in. You should take your time and meet Charlie when you’re in a better temperament.”

“That’s not correct,” Lucius stated with a tsk. “I am always in a pleasant temperament.” He finally laid his quill down and looked at you. “And your mother and brother will be delighted to meet your… partner at dinner in a fortnight as planned.”

“So, all your talk about reputation and standards was for naught?” you pressed. The next plan of attack was a subset of step three: reverse psychology. “What happens when our neighbours see a Weasley at the door? Being invited in by a Malfoy? You’ll be the talk of the town.”

Lucius smiled menacingly. “I reckon I’ve been unfair,” he admitted slyly. “I should get to know the Weasley boy. Maybe he won’t be a disgrace like his parents.”

You grimaced internally. You should’ve known that Lucius was not going to make this easy.

“You’ve really had a change of heart, father,” you stated. “It’s not in our usual fashion, but maybe we should start associating with blood traitors more.

“Nonsense”—he waved a hand—“I consider it charity work.”

“That’s complete rubbish, Charlie is not—”

Lucius raised a hand to stop you. “I have never implied that, but if that’s what you think of your boyfriend, then so be it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. If this was how he wanted to play it, then you were going to start writing to all his colleagues and business partners about your relationship and plaster your photos on every billboard. You were going to send an owl to everyone in the Ministry, including the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Hold on, speaking of Shacklebolt…

“Then, you wouldn’t mind if we attended the Ministry Christmas party together this year, won’t you? We could be sat at the table with you and mother, and Draco. I reckon I should let you know now since the Minister’s office needs a guest list by the end of October.”

A moment of silence. Then, both the corner of your and Lucius’s mouth twitched at the same time but in different contexts. You, with happiness and him, with chagrin.

“Well, that’s still some ways off,” he responded. “But I’m sure our Minister would be delighted to have the less fortunate seated so far up.”

“Then spare a seat for Charlie.”

“Of course,” Lucius said. “Consider it done. But let’s have dinner together first, shall we?”

“And remind me, (Y/N),” Lucius continued with a growing grin. “Charlie is the son with the dragons, correct?”

“Why do you care?”

“His father always tries to tell me about his children when I pass him by at the Ministry. Truthfully, I’m barely listening but I have caught onto this particular detail.”

The look in his eyes made you uneasy. Truthfully, you wished you didn’t have to answer him. There were consequences to telling the truth or lying. Looks like nothing had changed since you were younger.

“He is.”

With that, you walked away.

The rest of the afternoon, you resided in the sunroom, watching the rain slam on the overhead glass. A cloud of perturbation hung over your head like the weather. Unsure of how to communicate your failure with Charlie, you chose to sit and ruminate. But after half an hour, you grabbed a quill, a piece of parchment, and a seal and began writing.

Charlie, I couldn’t do it. You’ll have to clear your schedule for next next Saturday. (Y/N) Malfoy

About half an hour later, your owl fluttered back to your window.

(Y/N), Not saying I didn’t tell you so, but… I told you so. I won’t be here all week, but I’m back on Friday from Hogwarts. How about meeting me at the platform at eight p.m.? Charlie P.S. This is Romanian parchment. Go on, try to burn it. Spoiler: it doesn’t.

Curious, you trotted over to the fireplace. You crumbled the parchment and threw it into the flames. You waited for the crinkling sounds, for the edges to crisp and blacken, and the ball to burst in flames, but to your amusement, the paper was as pristine as ever. It lay unaffected in the blue flames.

With a smile, you wrote back:

Charlie, That works for me. Have a good week. (Y/N) Malfoy

You held off communication with Charlie for the rest of the week, opting to fiddle with your quill at your cubicle at the Ministry. When no one was looking, you scribbled down details of what you’d say to your father—lines you’d feed to Charlie to regurgitate until they felt real. For some reason, Fred and George were eager to escort you to the station to meet Charlie on Friday. You chalked it up to them missing their brother. Fred invited you to wait for them after work so you could go together.

When the fated Friday arrived, you rushed out of your office to Weasley Wizard Wheezes. You sat in the homey flat upstairs while waiting for Fred and George to close shop. You spread out on the couch, legs on the armrest, reading the stories you’d weaved at your desk.

You rehearsed in a low voice. “Charlie and I met at Christmas last year when he came back for a week. He invited me for coffee and the rest was history. December 27th, wasn’t it, darling? We had an instant connection and maintained our relationship through letters and chats through floo.”

You scribbled a line in and continued. “I was chuffed when he decided to take an extended vacation this year.”

Then you shut your eyes and pretended Lucius was asking you a question about your future.

“Well, we haven’t decided where we’ll settle, but at the moment, Romania is looking like the better option for both of us.”

“Is it?” Fred interjected. “Really?”

You scrambled up, feet hitting the ground. “You’re done already?”

“Not a particularly busy week,” he said, sitting down next to you and peering over. “Let me have a read to review the accuracy of this love story.”

You pushed him away. “No.”

“It sounds kind of stiff and unrealistic if I’m being honest,” George added. “Is this a dinner or a job interview? And Charlie sounds more romantic than I’d ever know him.”

“I was just rehearsing,” you grumbled in defence. “It’s not meant to sound polished.”

Fred and George walking in on you penning a romance between you and their older brother was going to be something they’d never let you live down. You continued walking on and grabbed your topcoat that was hanging from the rack. You slipped it over your black sweater dress and announced: “Let’s get going.”

All mentions of your script were thankfully forgotten when the three of you landed in the chilly autumn air that engulfed King’s Cross Station. You strode the last hundred metres, quickly falling in sync with the twins. A tale as old as time, Fred situated himself to your left and George to your right.

“I assumed Charlie was only to be at Hogwarts for two or three days a week from the way he was speaking,” you said. “But it seems he left Monday, is that right?”

“He mentioned some ‘contractual matters’ to clear with McGonagall. You know, given that he decided to take the job on such short notice. But McGonagall has been waiting for her favourite student to come back since he graduated, so she was more than fine with it,” George explained before a grin broke out on his face. “It’s interesting you seem to have such complex insights into Charlie’s life.”

“Complex insights?” you repeated. “He told me.”

“When? On your date or when you were having lunch with his mum?”

“Your mum, too, Georgie,” you reminded him.

“Not the way she was making it seem.”

To your left, Fred made a discontented noise. “I wish he hadn’t come back,” he grumbled.

“Why’s that?”

“Because while mum adores Bill, her fixation with Charlie is on another level,” Fred groaned. “And now that McGonagall gets to see him again, it’ll be even worse for his ego. That’s all she ever talked about, huh, Georgie? ‘That was a very strategic play, Fred, but your brother Charlie did it better.’ And then she’d launch into a story of the time Charlie enacted a critical play to win the game.”

“Which game?” George queried, stroking his chin. “I can only remember ten examples.”

“You sound jealous,” you teased, giving Fred a nudge.

“You’re right,” Fred conceded. He shot you a quick wink. “I guess I’m jealous he gets to date you.”

Your sudden laugh vaporised in the cold air. “You flatter me, Fred Weasley. But we’re not dating, remember?”

Fred must’ve noticed the puff of air that left your lips, because he then suggested: “Let’s have a night out before the weather goes to total shit.”

“It is already total shit,” you reminded him as a snappy breeze blew past you. You held a gloved hand to his face. “The nice weather will be gone like your deepest freckles.”

Fred clicked his tongue. “(Y/N) Malfoy, eternally the”—he paused at looked at you—“shivering pessimist.”

He wasn’t wrong. You breathed a sigh of relief when you stepped into the warmth of King Cross’s station. You strode past the last wave of stragglers trying to catch the next train home. You looked around the concourse, ensuring there were no muggle eyes on you, before the three of you smoothly gilded into the wall and onto Platform 9 ¾.

“Nice to be here with nowhere to go, huh?” George asked when you reappeared.

You nodded. It wasn’t early September and there weren’t bustling crowds and extraneous noise—of frantic parents, crying children, and conductors. Now, there were barely five people on the platform: an old man reading a newspaper; a mother and her son; and two wizards in dress robes.

A light wind began to pick up around the platform. You looked down at your watch. It was eight o’clock on the dot. The Hogwarts Express de-accelerated, screeching slightly against the metal tracks, before stopping in front of you. The windows were noticeably emptier and there couldn’t be more than a dozen people on this train. As people deboarded, you peeked around, looking for a mop of ginger curls.

As soon as you saw Charlie at the top step in the first compartment, you nudged George to go over. Charlie hadn’t seen you yet. He was raising a hand to the conductor. “Thanks, Stan.”

Stan tipped his hat. “See you next week, Charlie.”

Then, Charlie stepped off the train carrying a leather briefcase. He was dressed like how you first saw him, in the same slacks and jean jacket. His hair was mussed from the trip, but the dishevelled locks suited him. His blue eyes were cloudy with sleep, as they would be after a long journey.

“Hey Charlie,” George greeted.

Fred patted your shoulder and said: “Got your girlfriend here in one piece.”

Charlie’s face lit up. “Thank you, Fred.”

You shook your head in annoyance at Fred. Truth be told, you didn’t like Fred’s casual use of the word ‘girlfriend.’ Hopefully, after next week, you’d never need to ask for Charlie’s services again.

Fred ushered George back to the wall. “We’ll be heading back now.”

George cocked his head. “Yeah, don’t be too long.”

When the twins had disappeared through the wall, so did their laughs.

You turned to Charlie. “There’s a coffee shop in the station we could sit at,” you offered. “You must be famished after your trip.”

“I’m tired,” Charlie said with a yawn. He stretched his arms behind his head and flawlessly, one of those arms swung over your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. The scent of pine trees and cinder enveloped you immediately. He cocked his head downwards towards yours, eyes lighting in amusement. “Let’s chat at the pub instead.”

“The pub?” you repeated, blinking up at him. Unconsciously, you fell in step with Charlie, striding with his arm locked around you down the platform. “Didn’t you just say you were tired?”

“A beer will wake me up.”

“That is physiologically counterintuitive,” you stated.

“I wasn’t built like a normal person.”

As the firm curve of his bicep grazed your face, you were inclined to agree.

When you stepped outside of the station, the night had grown even darker. Stars peeked out from the blanket of black from up above. Charlie finally unlatched himself from you as you approached a tram stop. To be honest, you were annoyed that your shield of warmth was taken from you and that Charlie had left you to fend against the wind by yourself.

“Where to, Miss Malfoy?” Charlie asked as you sat down on the moving tram.

You leaned back on the plush seat. “Might go to the White Wyvern for a classy night,” you jested.

“Great, I’ve been looking forward to splintering my fingers at the table,” Charlie hummed in agreement. “Or I’ll my hand stuck from the beer residue until Mace, the owner, has to saw it off. Might lose a kidney, who knows, but it’d be worth it.”

“Have you been?” you asked. “It sounds like you have.”

Charlie chuckled. “That I can’t say. You can inquire about anything else though.” He swerved the conversation around. “Where does your dad go on a Friday night?”

“Valour.”

Valour was an upscale bar where Lucius fancied having dinner with his business companions. You’d been just a handful of times, but it wasn’t your cup of tea. There was no one your age there.

Charlie let out a low whistle. “I’d have to sell my kidney for a night there. Let’s settle for something in the middle.”

“Alright then,” you said. “Let’s go to The Brew.”

“I’ve never been there.”

“It opened last summer. You were probably in Romania.”

“Sounds reasonable. Lead the way.”

The Brew was only a block away from where the tram stopped. You guided Charlie up the cobbled road on Warwick Avenue, dangerously close to where you were last week when you were caught by Molly. You knew you’d arrived when you saw the exterior of the building: sleek and trendy with neon cursive lettering shining against the black brick. Inside, the crystal wine glasses perched on top of the bar shimmered in the dim light. The velvet chairs—maroon and pine—contrasted well against the glossy walls.

After the host took your coats, you looked for an open spot.

“Let’s sit at the bar,” Charlie suggested.

“Alright.”

You also appreciated Charlie’s confidence to find footing wherever he was. You thought yourself well-adjusted in that regard; you were good at settling with your family’s uppity friends. But Charlie was on a different level.

He weaved through the crowds gracefully with two hands in his pockets. When he found two unoccupied barstools, he pulled one out for you.

“After you.”

“Thank you.” You smoothed your dress and sat down. You swivelled around to place an order, but the bartender in front of you seemed occupied with something else.

“No way,” she exclaimed, her hands halfway through drying a glass with a towel. “Charlie Weasley?”

“The one and only,” he responded. “And you are…” He squinted his eyes, appraising the tall bartender. She was dressed fully in black which you assumed was the unofficial uniform of the pub. Her curly hair rivalled the colour of her blouse. She had eyes as green as the lime garnishes at her workstation. Her ears were adorned by multiple piercings, and a small collection of tattoos dotted her toned arms. “Mallory.”

Her red lips curled into a smile. “You still remember me?”

“I couldn’t ever forget,” Charlie said. “Though it’s been almost, what, twelve years?”

Mallory nodded.

“Mallory and I were teammates on the Gryffindor Quidditch team,” Charlie explained, facing you. “Mallory, this is (Y/N).”

You quickly extended a hand. “(Y/N) Malfoy. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh—,” Mallory quickly corrected herself and shook your hand. “Mallory Mikaelson.”

You smiled politely and withdrew. What a reputation your last name had around town. If only it was for the better, you thought.

Mallory’s eyes narrowed in concentration as she leaned over the counter to take a closer look at you. “I can’t seem to place you, love,” she said. “I suppose you were in a different house, or a different year?”

You didn’t want to admit you were six years younger than Charlie because of the way it might reflect on him, so you were vague with your answer: “Both.”

She hummed, then redirected the conversation back to Charlie. “Do you remember Marcus, my brother?”

“Of course,” Charlie said. “The best beater I’ve had the pleasure of playing with, besides you. Where is he now?”

“Department of International Transportation at the Ministry,” Mallory said. “We still play Quidditch at weekends at Felder's Field just north of here. We’d love to have our old teammate back for a game.”

“Name the date and time, I’ll be there,” Charlie affirmed.

“Hey Mal,” another bartender called from the back. “Abby called in for her shift at the front. Boss is asking you to cover for her tonight.”

“I’ll be right over,” Mallory said, her tone cool and professional. Then with a warm smile, she capped off her conversation with Charlie. “See you then, Charlie. Send me an owl.”

Charlie waved back. “See you.”

“What can I get for you two?” Mallory’s colleague asked after she’d gone out to the front.

“A pint of stout,” Charlie said.

You were still preoccupied with the conversation that just occurred so the question didn’t even register in your brain. Who was Mallory? What kind of past did she have with Charlie?

“What about you, love?” the bartender pressed.

“(Y/N)?” Charlie leaned in, giving your arm a squeeze. “If you don’t answer, I’ll get you a stout, too.”

You quickly regained consciousness. “An aperol spritz, please. Thank you.”

“Is the idea of a stout really that terrible?” Charlie joked.

“Yes,” you gasped out. “Awful.”

In a matter of minutes, your drinks arrived and you were finally left alone.

“It’s always nice to see a familiar face, isn’t it?” Charlie remarked.

“Absolutely,” you agreed with a nod. You vowed to forego your curiosity; there were more pressing matters. “Speaking of familiar things, how was your first week at Hogwarts?”

“Really great. I’m just settling in and getting accustomed to my classroom and Hagrid’s curriculum.”

“Does he know the meaning of a curriculum? I’ve heard his classes weren’t very…. Well-structured.”

“Not at all,” Charlie affirmed. “It’s whatever he feels like teaching that day. I might have to work with him a little.”

You grinned. “I can imagine.”

Charlie nodded his head. “You’re imagining right.” After a sip of beer, he resumed his thoughts. “But we’re not here to talk about Hagrid. We’re here to talk about next week.”

“Right! So, I prepared something,” you said, reaching into your purse for the rolled parchment. You hooked it with your finger and fished it out. “I was hoping to go over some notes with you—”

“(Y/N),” Charlie interrupted. His hand, leading with his thumb, was making a backward motion. “I need you to start from the beginning. Unlike my brothers, I know zilch about you.”

You set the parchment back in your purse and tucked it away. “Well, what do you know about me?”

“I know that everyone is terrified of your father, your brother is a right tosser, and your mother is gorgeous.”

Without thinking, you slapped Charlie on the arm, causing him to sputter in his drink. “Don’t talk about my mother like that.”

“If you’d let me finish my sentence,” Charlie protested after recovering. “I would’ve said, ‘that’s obviously who you got your looks from.’’”

Now, it was your turn to nearly sputter into your drink.

Charlie wagged a finger. “Careful, don’t spill that on yourself again.”

“I don’t reckon that was remotely my fault. You sat on me.”

Charlie was unfazed by your accusation and grinned instead. “Tell me more about your family.”

Quizzically, you continued, though you were unsure of how keen Charlie was on climbing your family tree. “My mother has two sisters, my aunts Bellatrix and Andromeda. I don’t have much to say there. My father has a brother and a sister. My uncle, Theodore Malfoy, and my aunt, Rosamund Malfoy. Thankfully for all of us, Uncle Theodore lives in France.”

Charlie furrowed his eyebrows. “Why thankfully?”

You paused. You never had anyone show so much concentrated interest in your family. Even Fred and George didn’t care much past the surface, past taunts against Lucius or Draco. You explained to Charlie what happened in France this summer, how he’d made a grand show of displaying his new properties and putting your family down.

“He’s perhaps the most terrible person I’ve met,” you huffed. “He’s worse than my father. You can’t talk about anything good without him doing you one better. And his spawn follows his mannerisms exactly.”

“Who are the spawn?”

“Genevieve. She’s my oldest cousin. She just got married this summer in Nice. She’s the worst. It was a cursed occasion because my mother came home with some nuptial fever. Her brother Claude is similarly terrible but he just talks less and conceals it better.” You gauged Charlie’s facial expression and could tell he was still engrossed. “I have two younger cousins, Charlotte and Clara. They’re pleasant, though I can’t tell the difference between them on a good day. They look very much alike despite being two years apart.”

“That leaves you,” Charlie remarked with a wide grin. “My favourite Malfoy.”

You laughed. “I’m the only Malfoy you know.”

“I’ve heard of your brother,” Charlie said. “From what I’ve gathered, I prefer you.”

“I haven’t scared you off?”

“Not yet.”

His face read ‘try me’ to which you smiled at.

Then, silence fell upon you. It was to be expected, a natural stall in the conversation. You took a prolonged sip of your cocktail to ease the awkwardness. As the bitters melted on your tongue, you searched for other things to talk about, but Charlie beat you to it.

“(Y/N),” Charlie’s deep voice called out to you.

You put your drink down on the table. “Yes?”

“I have a question for you.”

“Alright.”

Charlie shifted his stool over to yours. He was close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from his body. This time, instead of remaining where he was, he latched a hand on your kneecap. Every callus embedded on his fingers were noticeable on the groove of your knee, despite a layer of sheer tights separating his skin and yours. His grip didn’t hurt, but he was firm.

“What are you doing?” you panicked. Your tone came out more accusatory than you’d liked.

“Practising?” Charlie said quizzically. “Will it even be the least bit convincing if my touch repulses you?”

“I’m not repulsed!” you retorted. “It was just unexpected.”

Unexpected, as in you hadn't had a man touch you in months, maybe two years if you wanted the statement to be accurate. And at some point, you had stopped counting because the thought made you all the more miserable.

“That’s why I have a question,” he explained. “How much am I allowed to touch you at this… dinner?”

Your brain short-circuited for a minute. It was very hard to form any thoughts with Charlie’s sharp blue eyes tangled with yours, waiting for an answer like his life depended on it. The lopsided curve of his lip tempted a sacrilegious answer, one that you had too much modesty top provide. And now, things were harder with his large hand engulfing your kneecap. You were a deer in the headlights; he was the coyote catching his prey.

“This is fine.” This would convince your parents. Merlin, even you were convinced.

“Alright.”

You looked down. Your skin burned beneath his touch, and you had to wonder why you felt this way, why you were suddenly so flushed and withdrawn. Surely, if Fred pulled this act, you’d touch—or rather, slap—him back in retaliation.

Charlie’s thumb began to rub circles above your knee as he asked: “What about this?”

You stifled a sound. You were ticklish but you also couldn’t deny that that wasn’t the only sensation you were feeling. You couldn’t pinpoint it but you knew his touch wasn't at all unwanted.

“Don’t you think that’s too much?” you murmured. “All we need is a solid story, and I reckon we should be able to get away with it.”

“Nothing is too much if the goal is to convince your parents you like me, emotionally and physically,” Charlie commented with a laugh. “That’s the equation of love. Got it?”

You nodded slowly. Sure, you understood arithmetic, but this was a devilishly dangerous line he was toeing around.

He scooted even closer to you, his barstool squeaking against the floor, to be able to lift his hand from your knee to find your waist instead. His palm found its way to the dead centre, gravitating towards the most delicate part of you.

“Still okay?” he asked with an upward tilt of his head. You were entranced by how sharp his jaw cut under at this angle.

You nodded slowly, lips parting slightly as a result. He was so close that you could smell the alcohol on his lips. You hoped the dim lighting obfuscated your reddening face.

“Good job,” he praised with a smirk. “You’re doing great, (Y/N).”

Your head spun as if the prosecco in the aperol spritz had concentrated and exploded in your bloodstream all at once. Charlie’s voice started sounding further and further away, even though you were intently watching him inch closer. The room behind him blurred like a camera finding a focus on its subject. Charlie was your subject, his every freckle and crease near his gleaming eyes clear as day.

“Do you do this… often?”

You could barely hear your own voice.

“Sh, I’m the one asking questions. Keep focussed on the conversation we’re having.”

Focus? You wanted to ask Charlie if a dragon had clawed off his frontal lobe, leaving him helpless to his impulses. A prime example: this scene he was making.

“Now,” he continued, squeezing your waist. “What is your limit?”

“My—” you stammered, unable to gauge the meaning of his two-toned words. “My limit? As in alcohol?”

A barking laugh shattered your daze and brought you back to the present. Charlie’s voice was now glassy clear and his tone melodic. “(Y/N), let’s reroute back to the question of how much I can touch you.”

“Erm, this is okay,” you eked out through shallow breaths. Had Charlie shrunk your lungs? Was there such a spell? “I don’t imagine anyone would want to see any more.”

His eyes darkened. Your heart stopped. “What if I kissed you?” he asked.

Well, your heart was certifiably alive again because it had just catapulted against your chest, almost throwing you forward.

‘Now? Or next week?’ You wanted to scream. At this point, it was hard to tell and if he didn’t stop talking, you were really going to die. Might as well have the bartenders dig a hole in the ground right here and bury you with a tombstone carved with the words ‘Cause of Death: Charlie Weasley.’

“Let’s hope the situation’s not dire enough to have to come to that,” you said. On the contrary, your eyes were drinking in those smirky lips like they were the finest and richest wine in the world and wondering if rehearsals should be in order.

“But if it did?”

You pursed your lips which Charlie noticed, his eyes falling downwards, long lashes casting shadows over his face. You had to approach this logically and weigh the benefits and risks. If you had to kiss Charlie for a millisecond, it could mean a lifetime of your parents off your back. And a seriously tumultuous friendship with Fred and George if they found out.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“It would be fine,” you whispered with minimal conviction. “But only as a last resort.”

A rush of blood pounded your head when he was a mere three inches from your face. You gulped when you saw yourself reflected in his eyes. One wrong move and your nose would brush up against his freckled one.

“Of course,” he stated, looking offended. “You’d think I’d just waltz in next weekend and we’d start snogging in the foyer? You must think better of me.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—’

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Charlie teased, scooting back and letting his legs stretch out. Your eyes were glued to his hands and arms that were crossed in front of his chest. A cocky grin graced his chiselled face. “But this is great. I’ve got enough for next week.”

“Shouldn’t we discuss more about what we’re going to do?” you protested. Your voice was desperate and frantic. “We have to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“No, I really do have all that I need.”

“I wrote some things down, some critical points we should hit,” you pleaded, trying to find the parchment in your purse. When you unfurled it, Charlie was quick to snatch it out of your hands. He crushed it between his palms. When he opened his hand up again, the parchment was nothing more than cinder that disintegrated before it could hit the floor.

You were absolutely and undeniably sober after that action. Any thoughts of giving into a kiss dissipated immediately (and you weren’t sure why you were flirting with that idea in the first place). Your blood alcohol level: negative. Your chances of being betrothed to Goyle: positive.

“Charlie!”

“(Y/N)!” he imitated in a loud, whiny drawl that attracted the attention of the man beside him. You flushed; you did not sound like that. “Let’s get another round to soothe those nerves of yours.”

His grin grew wider as he flagged down the bartender. A blonde woman immediately swivelled towards him. He pointed to your drinks. You shut your eyes in defeat, resisting the urge to slam your head on the table.

His laissez-faire attitude was going to be the death of you.

>> NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley imagine

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