#i think i could probably make this a full fic honestly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minarisplaything · 2 months

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The Producer - PART THREE

pairing: Chaeyoung (Fromis9) x M!OC / Jiwon x M!OC rating: explicit word count: 4.2k summary: After introducing himself to the girls, the Producer has a run in take place in the bathroom with two trainees who want to make a good first impression before anyone else. PART 1, PART 2 tags: double blowjob a/n: apologies for two bathroom fics in a row. this one was just the next fic i had completed so i figured f*ck it let's just post it.

"What a day."

With a sigh you collapsed into the couch, conveniently situated in your office. Your uncle, or whoever he had intended on this being for, clearly had a taste for leisure. But right now you didn't want to think about that. Not your uncle. Not the job. Having just gotten out of your first meeting with the girls you would be put in charge of you really wanted nothing more than to just close your eyes and let your mind go blank.

Of course, that was easier said than done. As you let your mind drift, you inevitably found yourself thinking back to the meeting that had taken place only earlier that same day.

[EARLIER THAT DAY]

The way down to the training room was perhaps some of the most nerve wracking of your entire life. If you thought this morning had been stressful it was nothing compared to what was currently racing through your mind. All you kept seeing was images of Yewon writhing against your thigh and Jessica's voice echoing in your ear. Now, in just a few moments, you'd be seeing her as part of the line-up of trainees.

It's fine, you thought to yourself. She probably hasn't told anyone else. Hopefully not anyway. God, I am fucked.

The worst part of it was that despite your internal dread, the mental imagery still turned you on. In fact, one of the many rogue thoughts wandering around in your head was the fact that you wished you could have gone further with her. The shock of learning that Yewon was a trainee had effectively killed any erection you had at the time but it didn't change the fact that you were extremely pent up right now.

With a sigh you did your best to push those thoughts aside as you arrived at the door as Jessica emerged from the practice room.

"Alright," Jessica said, emerging from the room, "I've prepared them for you. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm ready."

"Are you sure about that? You look like you've seen a ghost," she offered you a sympathetic look.

If only she had any idea of the truth she wouldn't be asking that question. Honestly, at this moment you envied Jessica's ability to compartmentalize things. Maybe you'd ask for tips on it the next time the two of you went out for drinks. Assuming there was a next time.

"Is it that obvious?" you asked.

She pressed her lips together and gave you a nod. Jessica walked over towards you, her heels clicking on the floor. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, "Remember, they are just as intimidated to meet you as you are them. Maybe even more so. "

"I don't know about that," you muttered.

"Just remember, you can walk away from this before it even begins. For them, this is their whole lives."

"Was that meant to make me feel less nervous?"

Jessica grinned, a twinkle in her eye, "Just trying to give you some perspective. Now come on."

Unable to delay the issue any further, you followed Jessica into the practice room, fingers digging into your palm.

The room itself was quite spacious. Like much of the rest of the building, it was clear that your uncle had spent recklessly investing in this endeavor. At least from a financial perspective. Bright ceiling lights illuminated the room while a mirror that ran the full length of the back wall ensured there would be no lack of reflections. There was an argument to be made that if one were going to splurge on any one room, this was the one worth the investment. Aside from the decor of the room, your eyes were immediately drawn to the lineup of fifteen women standing at attention. One of whom was a familiar face who was avoiding your gaze, her cheeks flushed bright red.

Immediately, you felt the nerves start to creep back into your mind. You looked away from the beautiful lineup and glanced to the corner to see Jinyoung standing there with a clipboard. Something about seeing him made you feel a little more relaxed. After all, he didn’t seem bothered at all.

He probably didn’t have one of his employees grinding on his thigh only a few hours earlier, a rogue thought whispered.

"Everyone," she started, "This is Mr. Park, he's the nephew of our CEO and he might be working with us soon."

A resounding "Hello" reached your ears, causing you to smile just a bit.

You could already feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. You had to resist the urge to tell them that they didn’t have to be so formal in their greeting. You were a nobody as far as you were concerned. Barely qualified for the job. But you swallowed down that self-deprecation and offered a small smile and wave in response. You could already feel their eyes on you, judging you. Were they surprised you were so young? Maybe they were expecting your uncle or someone older? You noticed a few of the trainees started whispering to each other and tried not to get too paranoid about it.

Once she was satisfied, Jessica continued, "I'll let him introduce himself and we can go from there."

She looked over, metaphorically turning the floor over to you. Moment of truth. You cleared your throat, adjusting your tie once again in the process.

"Ah – right. Good morning, ladies. It's a pleasure to meet all of you and I look forward to working with you all. I hope we have much success in the near future.”

When you stopped, Jessica elbowed you in the side. You looked at her, brow furrowed, before she gestured for you to continue speaking. You suppose it was a bit of a robotic and corporate introduction, but you were just trying to be formal! What did she expect you to say when you hadn’t even taken on the job!

“I, uh, I know nothing has been made official yet but I’ve gotten to know some of you,” a brief glance at Yewon who immediately looked away. You cleared your throat and attempted to focus on your speech, “...through your files and what Ms. Jung has told me. I just have to say I’m looking forward to seeing what you all have to offer.”

You paused for a moment, considering how honest you wanted to be with them. Was it more beneficial to be honest with how green you were in this field, or should you fake it as long as possible? Considering you held their futures in your hands, being upfront felt like the best option.

“Truthfully…this is my first time working on something of this scale. I know some of you have experience at other labels or have been at this for a long time trying to achieve your dream so…I want us all to work on this together to succeed. My door is always open.”

They gave a short round of applause, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it had been genuinely encouraging or if they were just being polite. You supposed both options could be true. You looked over to Jessica and were surprised to see a small smile on her features. That meant you did good…right?

You looked over at the ladies, trying to read their reactions when you found yourself locking eyes with one of the shorter members in the lineup. Park Jiwon, if your memory serves right. What was more was that you found her eyes looking back. Your gazes locked for a long moment, and you almost felt like you were imagining things when you saw her eyebrow cock and her bottom lip get pulled between her teeth.

Fuck.

After what had happened with Yewon had left you high and dry, you could feel yourself getting turned on by the mere thought of shoving your cock between her pretty lips. This wasn’t good. You averted your gaze only to find yourself meeting Yewon’s gaze. Immediately, her cheeks reddened and she looked away from you, her thighs pressed together tightly. Was she having the same thoughts as you? Fucking hell, at this rate you’d be fantasizing about half the members on the team you were arranging. And the worst part was you didn’t find yourself hating that idea.

“Do you mind if we take a brief break?” you whispered to Jessica.

She gave you a bemused look, eyebrow arching, “Need to use the little boy’s room?”

“Something like that.”

Jessica chuckled and nodded her head towards the door, “Down the hall and to the right.”

You gave a small nod of appreciation. As you shuffled out of the room you heard Jessica telling the girls we’d be taking a break. Hopefully, this would give a chance for all the tension in the room to have a breather.

You splashed water on your face and looked into the mirror. You were undoubtedly having a moment of second thought. Just when you thought you had conquered the anxiety of taking on a post like this. Except this time the reasoning had nothing to do with performance fears. At least not of that sort.

“What have I gotten myself into,” you muttered.

Maybe you could get a chance to talk to Yewon privately. Clothed and keeping your hands to yourself this time. You could clear the air and move forward like nothing had happened…Even as you looked at your own reflection you were unconvinced by that line of thought.

Getting Jessica’s advice on the matter didn’t seem worth the risk. Especially considering that you still didn’t know what exactly your relationship with her was after the other night. Honestly, she seemed more likely to get upset for business reasons than jealousy but neither option seemed worth the risk.

As you wrestled with your own thoughts you were faintly aware of the sound of the bathroom door opening.

“Jinyoung, tell Jess I’ll be back in a minute,” you said, not paying any mind.

“I can tell her for you, PD-nim. Though I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

Immediately the color drained from your face.

You had assumed it was Jinyoung entering because frankly, you didn’t know of any other men that worked at the company. Therefore one could only imagine the expression on your face when a feminine voice reached your ears instead. Your head snapped to the side to see two familiar faces looking back at you. Familiar because you had only just been introducing yourself to them moments earlier. One was the girl whose gaze you had met, Park Jiwon. The other, a taller trainee, was Lee Chaeyoung. A name you remembered just from her height standing out on her file that Jess had shown you.

“Girls,” you stammered, straightening, “What are you doing in here?”

Chaeyoung turned, locking the door behind you as Jiwon took a step towards you, looking up at you as her hands were laced behind her back.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Chaeyoung responded.

Your cock jumped, imagining what she could be referring to. Still, you decided the safer route was to play naive and let them lead you to the answer. “I’m not sure it is…”

“We’re here to give you a proper welcome to the company,” Jiwon stated directly.

She came to a stop in front of you and Chaeyoung soon stood next to her. They were gorgeous, there was no doubt about that, and they currently had you cornered against the sink. You swallowed thickly, wetting your bottom lip with your tongue as your gaze darted between the two women.

“Is that right?”

They nodded simultaneously.

“You know…” started Jiwon, her hand moving to the button of your pants, “Yewon’s face turned red as an apple when she saw you enter the room. I wonder why that was.”

Chaeyoung grinned as she perched herself on your shoulder, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear as she spoke, “We had her do a lap around the building with a vibrator slipped inside of her.”

You could feel my own cheeks start to redden at that revelation. No wonder she had been practically begging for any kind of touch. How long had she been in that state before you found her? Clearly long enough that she was willing to find relief on your thigh.

As you considered the implications of her words, Chaeyoung’s hand moved to join Jiwon’s as the button to your pants came undone. Her fingers slipped inside, easily cupping your growing bulge over your underwear. Her fingers massaged it, only causing your cock to stiffen further. In turn, she gave a throaty laugh and smiled at Jiwon who mirrored her actions with her own hand.

"He doesn't seem surprised to hear that," Chaeyoung continued, her breath hot against your ear as their hands stroked your cock.

"I think I know why. You know Yewon's face was so red when she came back it made me wonder why," Jiwon chimed in. She looked up at you, biting her bottom lip as her eyes held mischievous intent. “I think it’s because she had more stimulation than just that vibrator.”

“Did she have this?” Chaeyoung whispered, giving your length a firm squeeze.

“N-no,” you managed. However, lying at this point seemed fruitless. They had you cornered and you were already letting Chaeyoung jerk you off with her long fingers. What harm could the confession do at this point? “...It was my thigh. She rode my thigh. But I didn’t know…”

“Oh my god,” Jiwon laughed, “That little slut. I didn’t think she had something like that in her. Just wait until the others hear.”

You stumbled a bit, gripping the sink as Chaeyoung continued rubbing your cock. It was a bizarre experience; trying to hold a conversation with Jiwon while her taller accomplice nibbled at your earlobe and stroked your cock. All while your whole career was only a few feet away outside of the bathroom door.

“You can’t,” you muttered. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Is it our secret, PD-nim? What else are we going to keep secret?” Chaeyoung teased.

“You know if we had more time we could really have fun,” Jiwon said, “Is he close, Chae?”

“From the way he keeps throbbing in my hand and the look on his face I’d say yes.”

You felt Jiwon’s eyes turn to you and instantly knew she was up to no good, “Ladies…”

“We have to be the first ones. Before anyone else hooks their claws into him.”

Before you could protest or even ask what she was talking about, Jiwon’s hands were grabbing the waistband of your pants and boxers. She yanked them down your thighs, fully exposing the sight of Chaeyoung’s hand wrapped around your cock. There was no denying it now. In fact seeing it only turned you on further. Not to mention the taller girl had been right: you were practically ready to burst. The physical touch combined with her teasing and the memory of what had happened with Yewon; it was all too much.

You watched as the two trainees slid to their knees on the tiled bathroom floor. Together they began tag-teaming your cock, taking turns letting their tongues run over the swollen head and engorged shaft like it was their favorite lollipop.

“Fuck, ladies, we really shouldn't...” you moaned. A pathetic last attempt at the righteous choice.

Both girls looked up at you with their pretty eyes and grinned. It was clear they were enjoying this; listening to you fight with your morals while refusing to push them away.

Jiwon pulled back, looking up at you with wide eyes and pouting lips, "Should we head back to the practice room?"

The sincerity of her question was undermined by the fact that Chaeyoung's tongue was still teasing the head of your cock. You found yourself speechless and Jiwon's pout turned into a devilish smile. "Don't worry, PD-nim. You don't have to feel guilty, I bet we aren't the only ones who'd want a taste of this."

She gave you a wink and returned to the task at hand. The thought was enticing to your most primal instincts. Something you were supposed to be above. However, there was no denying the appeal. The thrill of the taboo and the risk of being caught combined with the feeling of their soft hands and lips made was already making this far too addicting. Sure when you signed on for this job you never imagined this would be the outcome but now that it had happened, who were you to say no?

And if others wanted to join...

Your thoughts were cut off by the feel of something warm and wet around your cock. Jiwon had taken it fully into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing as she bobbed her head up and down the shaft. Meanwhile, Chaeyoung had wrapped her hand around the base, pumping your shaft in time with the bobbing of Jiwon's head. Your eyes were fixed on their teamwork, mesmerized by the sight unfolding while reveling in the pleasure.

"Shit," you hissed.

"It feels good doesn't it, PD-nim?" Chaeyoung asked. "She's small but she still swallows your cock like a pro."

Her eyes locked onto yours, gaze bearing down into your soul. You had never quite understood the concept of eye-fucking until that very moment.

Of course the answer to her question was obvious. From the way your body reacted to the look on your face to the swell of your length each time it hit the back of Jiwon's throat. If things kept going like that you'd be at your peak in no time. Which wasn't exactly a bad thing given you had little time to waste. On the other hand, you had yet to experience Chaeyoung's throat.

"If she keeps going like that I won't last," you grunted in response.

Chaeyoung grinned and Jiwon doubled her efforts.

"Don't be so greedy," Chaeyoung chastised her.

The shorter girl popped off of your cock with a long slurping sound, offering it to Chaeyoung who quickly picked up where her friend had left off. Her head bobbed on your cock, her short raven-cut hair swaying back and forth. You could only watch, mesmerized as her tongue slid against the underside of your cock. Jiwon didn't sit idle, one hand moving to fondle your balls while the other slipped past the waistband of her yoga pants.

"This is so hot..." she trailed off.

The way her eyes were glued to Chaeyoung you weren't sure if she was speaking to you or merely talking outloud to herself. Either way, you didn't disagree.

After a while, Chaeyoung would pull-off then offer it to Jiwon. The cycle continued in that manner. Together they switched between who had the honor of taking your cock in their mouth, letting the other take your cock in hand. One would stroke your cock or fondle your balls while the other gagged herself on your rod.

At one point, Jiwon was sucking your cock while Chaeyoung took one of your balls into her mouth, sucking on your scrotum. Your eyes rolled back, a deep moan echoing off the bathroom walls; discretion completely forgotten for a moment.

Irresponsible and unprofessional? Absolutely. Did you regret it? Absolutely not.

Truth be told, you were still somewhat blue balled from your interaction with Yewon and this felt like exactly what you needed. Besides, it didn't seem like either girl was keen on spilling any secrets.

"Jesus," you muttered under your breath, "Girls, I'm almost there..."

Chaeyoung, who had been taking her turn, popped off of your cock her chin dripping with saliva and pre-cum, "Let's not leave our PD-nim disappointed then. Give him the grand finale."

"Grand finale?" you repeated, slightly dazed and balls aching.

They gave no further explanation, instead leaving you to watch as they moved to either side of your engorged rod. First, they closed the distance between each other, making out with your cock shoved in between their lips. It fell under the category of strangely erotic. Their spit coated your cock as the two trainees made-out, giving you the impression that this wasn't the first time they had done this.

A thought of inspiration struck you. A firm hand was placed on the back of each girl's head. They seemed to understand what was going to come next as their lips puckered around your cock, creating a funnel for you. Immediately you began thrusting between their lips, fucking both of their mouths at the same time while they looked up at you from their position on their knees. If you had any inhibitions left, they evaporated then and there.

"Fuck," you groaned, "I'm so fucking close."

The girls hummed their approval, vibrations against your cock bringing you even more pleasure. God, you would have loved nothing more than to coat their pretty faces with your semen but that seemed like it would create a hard cleanup and even harder explanation. Instead, you kept thrusting between them until finally your cock began to twitch. They watched as you bit down on your bottom lip, length shooting rope after rope of cum that splattered onto the tiled floor. Your head rolled back for a moment, bracing yourself against the bathroom sink.

What the fuck just happened, you thought.

You were brought back to the present by the feel of lips around your cock, cleaning you off.

"Well, I'm horny now," Jiwon stated bluntly as she stood on her feet. "If we had more time..."

"Yah," the taller one hit her shoulder as she stood, wiping her bottom lip, "You're insatiable you know that?"

Jiwon laughed and you could only watch, dick still exposed, as the girls bantered as if they hadn't just sucked you dry. "We should..."

"We'll go," Chaeyoung cut in. She leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. "You should get cleaned up."

Jiwon followed suit, though somewhat adorably, she had to tip-toe to reach your cheek, "Don't forget us during evaluations, PD-nim."

She gave you a wink and just like that the two girls walked out the bathroom, leaving you with your thoughts. Or rather lack of thoughts. Which wasn't a bad thing given you had no idea what to make of this situation. Instead you got dressed; grabbed a few paper towels, wiped up the evidence of your rendezvous and splashed water on your face. When you looked in the mirror, you almost didn't recognize the slight smirk on your features.

"Hopefully Jessica didn't notice my absence," you muttered as you left the bathroom.

"So that's where you were," a voice called.

You looked up to see a face that took you a moment to recognize. She was one of the trainees you had been introduced to earlier. Haewon if you remembered correctly. She had short, straight hair that neatly framed her face. Her eyes were wide and attentive while her lips were full and plump with round cheeks. She was taller than Jiwon but only just.

"Ms. Jung was looking for you," she said.

"O-oh," you stammered, before clearing your throat. "Yeah. I was just on my way back."

You swallowed thickly, eyeing her unblinking expression. It was unnerving really, the way she stared at you arms crossed over her chest. You couldn't tell whether she was judging you or just so disinterested she couldn't bother to pretend. Had she seen Jiwon and Chaeyoung coming from this area too?

"So, uh, I'll just be heading back," you started.

Suddenly Haewon broke into a wide smile, practically beaming at you, "Alright then. See you tomorrow PD-nim!"

With that she walked off, her expression dropping the moment she turned away from you. You were left baffled and confused as you decided to shake it off and head back to Jessica. If she hadn't called you out on fooling around then that was a win enough for today.

As you neared the practice room, you spotted someone standing off to the side. Another one of the girls, though her name escaped you. She seemed upset as she talked on the phone. For a moment you considered going over to her and checking to make sure everything was alright only to stop yourself.

You hadn't even accepted the job offer yet and you were getting involved with these girls. The least you could do was not add emotional involvement to the list as well. You swallowed the impulse to help, maybe you'd bring it up to Jessica when you got the chance. She might know what that was about.

[PRESENT]

When you got back Jessica had already dismissed most of the girls for the day. The two of you decided to call it a day, after all despite your speech you still had an official decision to make.

You pulled out your phone, scrolling to your uncle's contact information. Your lips pressed together in thought. In many ways it was a no brainer, even ways that it shouldn't be. In other ways the more you learned about these girls the more you hesitated. If you failed you'd be doing more than just taking your uncle's money. You closed your eyes, your mind briefly flashing to images of your load covering Jiwon and Chaeyoung's faces. The decision was easy, wasn't it?

"What did you always say, uncle? It's about the journey not the destination," you muttered to yourself.

You quickly typed out a message.

"I'm in."

#series: the producer #male reader #kpop smut #girl group smut #fromis x reader #chaeyoung x reader #jiwon x reader #fromis9 smut

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oceansblvds · 5 months

Note

I SENT THE ASK ABT TEACHER CORYO IM BEGGING YOU TO WRITE TA/PROFESSOR SNOW 😝

OKOKOK IM GONNA WRITE SOME HEADCANONS BUT I MIGHT HONESTLY EXPAND THIS INTO A FULL FIC BC im a whore!

warning(s): nsfw, obsessive behavior, lowkey an abuse of power

coriolanus, almost out of university, was selected to teach a higher level math class on the account of dr. gaul saying he needed a little bit more experience with teaching and leadership if he was to be head gamemaker. so, he was a TA, teaching under a professor but was basically given full rein with the class, as the professor seemed to focus more on research than teaching the class. the second he was in the lecture discussion, he saw you walk in. you were a junior, just a year under him in university and god were you beautiful. almost mouth wateringly so. it made him sick in the head at how pretty you were.

and gods above, you were smart, almost as smart as he was (though he wouldn't ever admit that) and it was clear that you liked him. you always smiled when he complimented your high scores on tests and quizzes, and would read the notes that he put in the margins of your essays with a glimmer in your eyes. he needed to talk to you, needed to be closer to you, and the only way that he could think of was to give you slightly lower marks on your essays and homeworks. never on a test, he would never want to drop your grade low enough for it to be concerning, but he did wait for you to stumble into his office hours. and you did. you asked him how you could do better on the material, and he told you that he'd help you.

he didn't have an office, only a classroom that he was lent during his office hours in the top floor of the math building. it was there that you would meet him, every tuesday and thursday, to go over problems. he liked the way that your lip would be bitten in between your teeth when you were looking at a particularly hard problem, or when you would look at him with your big doe eyes when you asked him for help. and whenever you asked him for help, he would lean closer, and explain it to you.

one day, he finally got the courage to make a move. you asked him for help and he placed his hand on your thigh, as if he was using it to keep himself steady as he leaned over. but instead of watching him explain on the paper, you kept your attention on his face. and then he pushed his hand further up your thigh, under your skirt, and you didn't stop him. your hand came to his and you pushed it up until it was cupping your pussy. he fingered you right then and there, hoping beyond hoping that no one else would walk into his office hours for help. the two of you made out while he fingered you, going as far as to press three fingers into you, with a squelching sound, your moans echoing through the room softly.

that became somewhat of a normal thing. you two always met during his office hours, until you decided to go to his home one day for some extra tutoring. it ended with you in his large bed with your legs spread, while he put his fingers in your mouth as he fucked you with such fervor that you were sure you were going to break.

sometimes when he was grading papers, you would slink under his desk and pull his cock out, spitting on the tip and bobbing your head up and down until he gave you the attention you wanted. he always fantasized about you doing this when he was teaching another class, with you working him with your mouth as he sat on his desk and no one else knew the wiser. he would have to try that with you one day.

lots of words like how dirty you were for sleeping with your teacher. "you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" "show me how good you've gotten" when you were riding him. "you probably fantasize about my cock in class, don't you?" it was all so derogatory. and other times he would praise you. he would tell you how smart and beautiful you were. he would let you cum when you got a problem right while he sat under the desk, eating you out. when you got a problem wrong, he would stop, and no amount of begging would get him to continue unless you continued your work.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas #the hunger games #tom blyth #angelica talks!!

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astridthevalkyrie · 11 months

Text

honeymoon period | jumin han x reader

After Jumin marries you, slowly, his threads start to untangle.

a/n: my first and probably last long jumin fic. this has been in the works for months, literally what i've been stalling on superior for (pre keigo 😭) i hope you all enjoy! i love this man <3

warnings: afab reader with she/her pronouns, some depressing thoughts, smut, oral (m and f receiving), penetrative sex, references to kinks that they both have, references/nightmares about abuse including sexual harassment, insecurity, jumin's comedy lol

word count: 13.2k (only a little less than the last superior chapter that is cray cray)

There is a knock on your door.

It makes you jump. Not that you’re nervous—it’s a hotel and several of your friends and family are here to see you get married, so naturally many of them know where your room is. The room itself is, of course, lavish, a paradise compared to most of your previous lodgings. Honestly, you miss the penthouse.

No, that’s not quite right. You just miss being curled up on the couch, tucked into Jumin’s chest with Elizabeth on your lap, wine on his lips and love in his eyes. You miss him, even though you saw him last this morning. You know he’s in the hotel lobby being forced to get wasted by Luciel, because the hacker in question has sent you dozens of videos of your fiancé. In one of them, when Zen reminds him he’s getting married tomorrow, a goofy smile breaks out on his face as he ducks his head.

Maybe the wedding wasn’t necessary. Maybe you two could have just signed the necessary papers without having to go a full day without seeing each other. How are you supposed to sleep tonight? You could call him, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Sighing, you make your way to the door. If it’s one of your friends trying to convince you to let loose or a family member coming to check up on you, you’re not in the mood.

When you open the door, your fiancé is standing there.

“Jumin!”

All questions on the tip of your tongue disappear when he brings you into his arms, burying his face in your neck with a content sigh. There’s no urgency in it, just a quiet, sudden happiness, like he’s fully aware that in just a few hours he won’t have to worry about you being anywhere but in his arms again.

“Thank you.” His voice breaks the silence, muffled on your skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your eyes well up with tears. What an emotional bride you’re turning out to be. And what a wonderful groom you have, to somehow know exactly what you need even when he’s not completely sober.

Slowly, you wrap your arms around him as well, breathing in the scent of his shampoo as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re welcome, Jumin.”

///

There has never been a lovelier sight than your smile, and Jumin hopes you know that.

If you don’t, he’ll just have to convince you.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You’re sporting a grin for him—just for him—wearing nothing but one of his shirts with Elizabeth the Third scurrying out from between your feet when she sees him. There’s a pink bottle on the counter. Frosting, he thinks. “I hope you don’t mind, but having a chef cook for us for a month straight has ruined my palate for anything else. I had to cook for myself again before I got spoiled. I can call him to make you dinner if you don’t want to eat what I made, though!”

“Of course not.” The urge to embrace you is unbearable. A month after the wedding, and his first day back at work after the honeymoon, he still can’t seem to keep his hands off. “What did you make? I’ll eat anything.”

He leans down to take Elizabeth the Third in his arms, scratching the back of her head softly. “Alright! I made stew and baked some cupcakes, I hope you like it. But you should probably change first. Slip into something more comfortable.”

“Ironic, considering you and I are wearing the same thing.”

“Well…” You lean over the counter, making a show of ogling him. “If you really want to match, you can leave the shirt on and take off your pants.”

It’s impossible to even try and stop the smile growing on his face. “Would you like that?”

“Come over here and find out, hubby.”

The nickname makes him flush pleasantly, but instead of taking you up on that extremely tempting offer, he simply walks up and presses a kiss to your forehead. You pout, and with the tact of knowing Elizabeth is still in his arms, you tug on his tie and kiss him properly. Jumin’s brain turns off, if only for a few seconds. As long as you kiss him and he kisses you back, the only thing he knows is you, you, you and nothing else.

Now, instead of changing, he’s holding his cat and kissing you in the kitchen. With just a minor breakaway and murmured apology, he’s no longer holding his cat. His hands slide around your back and pull you in, and your hands meet at the base of his neck. You. Only you.

“Ju-min,” you admonish breathlessly, the second he pulls away to trail hurried kisses down your neck. “Dinner first.”

“Mm. I’m not hungry.” Or he is, but not for dinner.

Your hands come to rest on his chest, but you don’t pull away, and Jumin is beyond grateful. He doesn’t want to eat, doesn’t want to sleep or shower or do anything else when he could be showing you just how much he’d missed you at work today.

Slightly pressed into the counter, you place your hands back and jump onto it, and he eagerly steps in between your legs to kiss you again. Your legs wrap around his waist and your hands tangle in his hair—a habit of yours, he’s noticed, to mess his hair up. He doesn’t mind. Not if it makes you happy.

Finally, you pull away and before he can dive back in for yet another kiss, you dip your finger into the bowl next to you and offer it up to him. Without even considering it, he takes your finger in between his lips and licks the gravy off.

It’s only after he registers the taste does Jumin realize how intimate the action is. And of course, he knows that you’re married, that you and he have seen each other absolutely bare and open to one another, that he is literally making out with you in his—in your—in your shared kitchen. He knows that despite everyone thinking that the marriage was rushed and impulsive, this will be a long road, and he plans to stick by you for each and every single step. He knows that tasting something off your finger is hardly the most domestic thing you two will do.

But it doesn’t stop the flurry of butterflies he feels in his stomach. It doesn’t stop him from thinking my wife is letting me taste what she made, because she’s perfect. That’s not to mention how wonderful the taste actually is.

“Good?” you question, with gleaming eyes.

“Incredible.” He takes your hand and dips your finger in the bowl, stealing another taste right after. “More than incredible. The best stew I’ve ever had.”

“I know you’re flattering me.” Leaning forward, you take his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. Softly, gently, like he’s something fragile that will break if you use any force. “But I’m not complaining. Keep going.”

“Food is always better when a beautiful woman is the one serving it.”

You beam. The butterflies in his stomach do a victory soar.

Jumin Han is in love.

///

Zen has a dream about you. That’s when the problem starts.

He tells it to the group in great detail—it’s not anything romantic or sexual, but Jumin doesn’t see a reason for you to be in his subconscious at all, even if you were just the supposed director for Zen’s dream movie. You’re not any sort of movie director, so the dream is ridiculous at any rate.

It doesn’t stop him from pouncing on you the second you two get back home. You don’t even get to take a seat before he’s pressing you against the door, ensuring it’s locked (the last thing he needs is for one of the security guards to see this and have dreams about you too) and kissing you possessively.

“Jumin—?” There’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but it cuts off into a delicious moan when he starts sucking and biting all the same spots he knows he left hickeys on during your honeymoon.

“Spend the day with me,” he whispers. “Just me, no one else.”

An amused giggle bubbles from your throat. “I was already gonna do that, honeybunny.”

Good. That’s plenty of time for him to mark up your neck (and other places) so that everyone knows you’re his, and other people can stop dreaming of you. Already his mind is filled with wicked thoughts, of how he can make you cry and beg and scream today. From the time you two spent on your honeymoon, he knows you can get quite loud if he puts his mind to it.

The only limit is his imagination.

“Jumin.” Your head tilts back against the door, eyes closed as his tongue soothes a bite mark he just made. “Ah, J-Jumin, are you jealous?”

“No.” He is.

“I know what possessiveness looks like.” You take his hand in yours and press a kiss to each fingertip. “You know that me being in Zen’s dream isn’t something in our or even his control?”

“Of course I know that.” He huffs, impatiently fiddling with the buttons on your shirt. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

He kisses you again, and you hum in understanding, sliding your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. It’s amazing, no matter how many times he thinks everyone would dismiss him for being ridiculous over something like this, you are always there to prove that at least one person wouldn’t. And you taste. So. Damn. Good.

So why not taste you all over? Jumin hungrily slides his tongue over your teeth, seeking entrance. When your mouth parts for him, he tastes you intimately, swallowing your soft sighs.

“For the record,” you mumble, out of breath, “I only ever dream about you.”

“As do I, darling.” He pulls you closer still, thinking about how good you’ll taste when he has his mouth on your pussy. “As do I.”

///

This need to prove himself to you extends beyond the sexual—you laugh so much when you’re around Luciel and Yoosung. Actual laughter that is so different from the polite smiles and chuckles that are in response to his own words.

He hates it. He hates it so very much. He wants to make you laugh, full blown and unabashed. As much as he likes making you giggle, he wants to make you laugh so hard that there are tears pouring down your cheeks. And his experience has quite readily set him up for the expectation that if he wants something, he will have it.

And now, what he really, really wants is to see his wife lose her in laughter because of him.

That means it’s time to bring out the big guns.

Right now you’re under the covers, reading glasses on as you flip through a book. The book in question is something from his personal library (when he showed it to you, mentioning a scene from Beauty and the Beast, you had promptly told him that he was not a beast, but that you finally understood how the princess felt in that scene).

To an extent, Jumin feels bad when he distracts you from work or requests your attention. But he tries to remind himself that if you didn’t want it, you were more than capable of telling him as much. And your reaction to him crawling on top of you with his arms on either side would certainly not be to put the book aside and pull him down to lay on your chest with a kiss to the crown of his head.

For once in his life, Jumin is certain that he is loved.

“I have a joke,” he tells you matter-of-factly, and your brow raises.

“What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, he raises himself up so he can take a good look at your face.

“Hit Seoul, hit Daejon, hit Daegu, hit Busan, hit it!”

There’s a long pause, and your surprised expression slowly morphs into a giggle, then at his grin, a chortle. Jumin laughs first, and then you do too, throwing your head back. It’s single-handedly the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his life.

“W-what—“ You’re wheezing now, shoulders shaking. “What does that even mean?”

“I cast a spell on you. Those who laugh are no ordinary souls, for your information.”

“You are so perfect.” The praise catches him off guard, but your body is still shaking from laughter, and in your eyes he sees something like adoration. “How are you so perfect?”

That is definitely not a word he associates with his humor. His status, money, company, business acumen? Yes, perfect, as they were always meant to be. But the little flips in his stomach tell him that none of those things are what you’re referring to. The look in your eyes—he never sees you look at material objects or money that way. He has only ever seen it aimed towards him, and Jumin realizes with a start that there is no need to compete with Zen or Yoosung or Luciel—because really, there is no competition to begin with.

///

Being a workaholic comes with benefits. Everything always gets done. And he enjoys doing business, so there is no negative side effect…other than the lost time that could be spent with his wife. Typing away on the computer he has set up in his study, Jumin sighs, cracking his neck every half hour or so. He’s been at it for hours, but there’s still more left to do.

A soft knock makes him look up. You peek your head in, blinking sleepily and all wrapped up in a blanket. “Sorry to disturb,” in a whisper that barely reaches his ears, “can I sleep here, honey?”

Jumin beckons you in, looking around dubiously. “I’m sorry, I don’t think there’s any surface here you’d be comfortable on. I don’t want you to have an ache by tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Your eyes keep blinking closed, as though you’re barely staying awake. All your words are hushed, but you still manage to clamber over to his side of the desk, blanket in tow, and fall onto his lap, burying your face in his chest.

With a start, he catches you, holding you close. “What is it, sweetheart? You can’t sleep?”

You shake your head, getting even more comfortable. “The bed’s too cold.”

Something indescribable squeezes his chest. Above everything, the pleasure that you would rather seek warmth from him rather than get another blanket is all-consuming. Without another word, he stands with you in his arms and walks to the bed. The second he steps into the bedroom, your grip on him becomes a little tighter.

He huffs back a small laugh. “I’m not going anywhere. I’d just rather you sleep here.”

Pulling out a second blanket from the closet for good measure, he lays down on the bed with you, throwing both blankets over your bodies before wrapping you up in his arms. You sigh happily, legs mixing with his and face pressing in his chest once more.

“Sorry for distracting you.” Now your voice is barely audible. “Mm…you’re just…so much warmer…”

“Can I ask you a favor?” You hum softly in response. “Please never apologize for demanding my attention. I am yours, that includes my body, my soul, and my time. Should you ever need me to sleep and I am in the office, please call me and I’ll come home immediately. I’ll take the jet home if I have to. That doesn’t just stop at my time either. If there is anything, anything, you would like, then all you have to do is ask me. I’ll buy you anything. The world is at your disposal.”

There’s a pause and Jumin thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then you break the silence, quietly asking, “Is it okay if I ask you for something, then?”

“Anything.”

Cute but glossy eyes peer up at him, and you blink rapidly. “A kiss?”

Jumin places his hands on your cheeks, catching the stray tear that falls. Then he leans in, and everything is right with the world.

///

Ice Prince.

Jumin has no idea where the title actually came from. He doesn’t see what’s wrong with someone having control of their emotions. Is he expected to cry or rage at every little thing? That’s a genuine question. Maybe he doesn’t show much emotion at all, and he should. He’s open to advice.

It shouldn’t even be on his mind. He’s watching a soap opera, and the most beautiful woman in the world is in his arms. He enjoys watching your reactions more than watching the show itself, whether you’re holding back an aww or wincing. Every so often, you look up and meet his eyes, giving him a sweet smile each and every time before placing your head back on his chest.

Still, he can’t get the article he read earlier out of his head. Has the Ice Prince really settled down? What kind of life does the new Mrs. Han lead? One can only imagine that she does not get many warm moments with Jumin Han. A speedy divorce would not be surprising.

Just the thought makes him tug you in closer, the idea of you leaving never failing to terrify him. He’s gotten better, he doesn’t freak out over you exiting the penthouse or hanging out with friends or working. He’d told himself harshly that he would not drive you away with his overt possessiveness.

But maybe he’s going to drive you away if he can’t learn to show you his emotions and instead continues to be…well, an ice prince, as much as he hates the term.

“Jumin.” You’re pressing a kiss to his throat, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are you tired, honey? We can go to bed.”

When he looks down, you’re gazing concernedly up at him. He doesn’t feel like a villain when you look upon him like this. And holding you close is not the only privilege he has here. Taking your face in his hands, he kisses you, and you melt in almost immediately. Jumin knows that you’re starting to get sleepy because you don’t make any move to straddle him further.

The man who knows you best—that is what the articles should be about. Doting husband. Family man. Your partner. How could anyone think he was cold or heartless to you?

“Juju,” you mumble softly, not bothering to break the kiss, “we should get to bed.”

Yes, you’re right. However…

“May I ask you a question?” His curiosity and slight anxiousness requires him to make sure. If he’s ever done anything to make you think he’s some kind of robot, he needs to get rid of such behavior immediately.

Your lips quirk like he’s said something funny. “You may.”

“Have I ever seemed…cold to you?” Almost as if to remind you before you answer, he holds your hand, squeezing gently, while the other hand remains on your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin softly. “Since we’ve been together, I mean. Have I ever acted anything like an…” Jumin cringes just saying it out loud. “Ice prince?”

The question seems to take you aback, and you blink a few times. Your eyes—warm, beautiful eyes—first stare at him with a certain confusion, then quickly become infused with a sudden anger.

“Did someone say that about you? Who was it?”

“No one,” he responds, then hastily amends, “there have always been articles calling me that. I just happened to see one today, so it was on my mind.”

Now, you really do straddle him, threading your fingers through his hair. The anger has dulled into a stubborn crossness. With a deep scowl, you kiss his forehead and say, “That is ridiculous. You have been nothing but warm to me, Jumin Han.”

The same warmth you’re talking about spreads across his cheeks, painting them pink, but you’re not done.

“Since when do you care about those articles anyway? They’ve always been inane. Remember when everyone was convinced that you would marry Sarah?” Here you huff, and he hates to admit that he loves seeing you jealous, even if over someone he never even considered getting to know. “And you had to set them straight for them to print anything accurate. Maybe I should give a press statement of my own. Ice Prince my ass.”

“Such language,” Jumin says lowly, already hiding his face in your neck. You’re still peeved, muttering things under your breath as you stroke his hair, angry kisses pressed to his skin in the middle of your rant.

Eventually, you tire yourself out, falling asleep right there on his chest, a common occurrence. He doesn’t mind it one bit, it’s actually really easy to carry you to bed. For some reason, Jumin feels much, much lighter.

///

His wife is a party planner. An event planner, technically, since you’ll take some requests for meetings as well, but it’s mostly parties. He knows that due to your marriage, there’s been an increase in the amount of clients wanting you to plan their events. Even before, you’d said your schedule had always been sporadic, revolving around whatever the current most pressing event was.

Frankly, he shouldn’t be surprised, with how masterfully you pulled off the RFA party.

He’s more than proud of you, of course. He’s now attended quite a few of the events you put together, and it always leaves him impressed. You’ve confided in him about how you’d like to either switch to a company that exclusively does weddings or start your own, and despite your protests, he’s fully prepared to finance such an endeavor when the time comes.

The only issue about your job, and his job as well, is that your schedules can be sporadic. There are days where you can work without even leaving the penthouse, and then there are days where you are running around and don’t return until 2 AM. Jumin can hardly get upset when he’s taunted the clock with his record times at coming home as well.

Can’t get upset at you, that is. Being upset at the situation is perfectly reasonable. He wants to spend time with his wife, dammit. You’re his favorite person in the world, all the things he wants to do involve being with you.

So when he’s the one who’s arriving at 2 in the morning, he deflates to see that you’re fast asleep, a couple documents and your phone in the bed next to you. How many times has he told you he would set up a separate room for you to work in? Each time, you shake your head and say all you need is your phone and laptop, and you can work anywhere. That doesn’t take into account your health, though. The place you relax should not be associated with work, or it leads to a less relaxing sleep cycle. He once read a study about that.

It might be hypocritical, but Jumin misses you. He wants to talk to you so badly it pains him, and not just longing phone calls that always leave him wanting more.

Loosening his tie, he waits for a second before falling hard onto the bed.

Your eyes flutter open immediately, and in your daze you take in your still-dressed husband. With a sleepy smile, you push away all the papers next to you to snuggle into his arms. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you.” One arm secured around your back, he pulls you as close to him as you can. He sees you breathe in his lingering cologne, and it makes him downright giddy that his scent seems to bring you comfort. “Shouldn’t a loving wife be waiting up for her husband?”

You yawn, throwing one leg around him. “Not when the husband returns at an ungodly time and the wife has an early morning site inspection. Did you have dinner?”

“I did. Did you?”

“Mmh. Yeah. I refrigerated some in a container if you wanna take it to work tomorrow.”

This is one of his favorite domestic things you do—and he doesn’t even think you realize how much he appreciates it. If it’s between having something from a five star restaurant or having your cooking, the latter will win each and every time. Sometimes he wants to brag to the whole world, although the most he’ll do is slip how tasty his lunch was today to Assistant Kang (who will almost always respond with a dry, “Glad to hear that, Mr. Han.”).

“I will.” Jumin kisses your lips, smiling when he feels you respond with little effort. “I’ve missed you.”

Your arms snake around his waist as you tuck your head under his chin. Jumin sighs when he feels you kiss his collarbone. “I’ve missed you too.” All he needs is your breath on his skin, or your hands on his face, or your voice filling his ears. It relaxes him instantly. “What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

“I’ll be in the office all day.” Already he groans, burying his face in your hair in the hopes that it will preemptively soothe the headache sure to form tomorrow. At first he didn’t understand why you insisted on using the same hair conditioner you always did instead of a much more expensive one he could buy for you, but the smell of your hair is so exquisite that now he wholly prefers it (although there is a special kind of tingling in his chest reserved for the moments you smell like him).

“Same. After my inspection, I’m going to be meeting four new clients, and I’m going to guess they all want priority.” You roll your eyes, carding your fingers through his hair. “Tomorrow is also Mr. Wang’s wedding, so I’ll be back late.”

At his wordless whine, you giggle, kissing his cheek. Then after a few seconds of thoughtful silence, a soft hum sounds from your throat.

“I have an idea.”

///

The click of Jaehee’s heels alerts him to her entrance, and Jumin straightens in his chair, accepting the papers that she hands him.

“Thank you. Have you eaten, Assistant Kang?”

Jaehee blinks at him once, then twice, like he’s grown an extra head. Then she slowly nods, the surprised expression melting back into her perfectly professional one once more. “Yes, sir. And you?”

“Not yet. I brought a container my wife packed for me.”

“Honey, I don’t think she really cares to know that.”

“I see. She is a pretty good cook if I recall correctly.”

“Everyone cares,” Jumin insists.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re so sweet, it’s annoying. I want to kiss you all the time.”

“Mr. Han, are you alright? You look a bit out of it—should I call for a doctor?”

“Do it.” He smiles at the papers in his hands. “I won’t stop you.”

“Call…call the doctor?”

“Will you kiss me back, in front of all your employees?”

“Yes. Of course. Whatever you desire.”

“Right away, sir,” Jaehee responds in a sort of strangled voice, and it’s not until he hears the click of her heels again that he remembers she was there. In almost a flash, she leaves his office.

“What did she say?”

Jumin touches the tiny earpiece that’s been on all day, adjusting it only slightly. “I honestly have no idea.”

///

Jumin hates leaving. But he does, well, what is the phrase? Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave? Something along those lines, is what you’ve said to him. He’s not sure it applies here, since he is actually leaving to go abroad for a few days, and already he’s looking forward to his reunion with you, but he didn’t expect that both of you would be so needy for each other the night before the flight.

It starts with a few kisses, a pout on your lips that he thinks he can kiss away if he just tries hard enough. Telling you in hushed whispers that he’ll miss you an unfathomable amount. Your understanding on a pragmatic level, and your clinginess the second you both laid down. Both are appreciated more than he can say.

“What if I want to watch a movie with you?”

Kiss. “Just wait a week for me, my love.”

“What if the bed is too cold and I need you to warm me up?”

Kiss. “One week, I promise. No more than a week.”

“What if aliens invade the penthouse and I have no one to protect me?”

Kiss. “Tell them that your husband is going to kill them…in a week.”

For a few minutes, it goes on like this, with you proposing other scenarios and Jumin doing his best to both reassure you and make you laugh. He lays kiss upon kiss to your lips, and perhaps subconsciously, they become more ravenous, demanding. Seeking more. Seeking your conviction on just how much you will miss him.

“Jumin,” you breathe into his mouth. Jumin, Jumin. He loves how you say his name.

You’re seeking something as well, the warmth that you are so certain will disappear along with him. On one hand, he hates that his princess has to sleep without him at all, especially when she clearly doesn’t want to. And on the other hand, knowing that you’ll be here, missing him so desperately, makes his heart flutter. You’ll miss him. You’ll miss him.

Within moments, you’re on top of him, seated on his lap and unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt. He’s responding in kind, leaving love bites on your neck as he slides your night robe off your shoulders.

“What if I get lonely?” you ask, more demure than you actually are. “What if I need you, and my fingers aren’t enough?”

His hands press into your hips, hard enough to bruise. You mewl at the slight pain, and he manages to hiss, “I never want your fingers to be enough. If you wait for me, princess, I’ll make you cum more times than you can handle when I get back.” Even if just the idea of you sending him a video or even calling him as you touch yourself was incredibly appealing. Maybe next time. This week, he would have you think of nothing but his own fingers, his tongue, his cock.

And what better way to do that than to remind you how they feel?

“I’ll be gone seven days exactly.” Spoken more to your breasts than you, but he does gaze up at you reverently as he kneads them in his hands. “Maybe tonight I can make you cum once for every day I won’t be here. Would you like that?”

He jerks his thigh up against your core before you can answer, so you nod frantically, mouth falling open. “Uh huh!”

And who is Jumin to ever deny you?

///

The trip right before Valentine’s is the worst. It’s all Jumin can do to finish work before running like a madman through several different stores, picking up this and that. He insists on a different bag for each purchase, despite the clerks gently pointing out that he can put a lipstick tube in the same bag as a pair of heels and nothing will happen, but he doesn’t want to. He would like to see you open every item with a new spark of delight in your eyes.

Usually, he would return late at night, always opting to finish the day’s work and catch a flight right after instead of waiting for morning, because this way he would arrive home, gather you up in his arms as you slept soundly, and then bask in your surprise and delight when you woke the next morning.

And this time would have been no different if one of the departments had not messed up, forcing him to wake up on Valentine’s Day still out of the country. After five days’ worth of work forced into two hours, a shopping spree and a quick call with you, he nearly takes the wheel from the pilot himself before Jaehee begs him to just sit and try to enjoy the ride home. The rest of the trip, they are engaged in a glaring contest every time she looks up from the video she is watching on her laptop.

As soon as the door opens, he hears a surprised cry of his name, and then you’re barreling into him—all the bags in Jumin’s hands fall to the floor in favor of catching you and hefting you up in the air for a spin.

“I thought—“ Kiss. “That you—“ Kiss. “Weren’t coming back today!“ Deeper kiss.

“I couldn’t miss my first Valentine’s with you, my love.” The deepest kiss of all.

The two of you only stop because his bodyguards are coming into the room after him, with more bags. Your eyes widen as you take in all of them, and your sharp mind has already pieced together what’s going on. “Is this all for me?”

“Of course.” Jumin knows that the way you’re latching onto him with such a tight grip is a more priceless gift than anything in these bags. “Why don’t you open everything? I wish to see your reaction.”

And so you do. The makeup, the shoes, the clothes, the jewelry, the books, the decor, all of fine quality and all things well thought out with your interests in mind. With every single item, no matter how big or small, you gasp, or squeal, or simply smile ever so widely. And without fail, you kiss him right on the lips each time.

Jumin is dizzy only halfway into the opening process—he must start buying you gifts far more often if this is the reward he gets.

However, you see beyond just his outward appearance, and you place the next bag he hands you aside without so much as a glimpse at it before clambering onto his lap. Hands on his cheeks, your thumbs smooth over where he’s sure eyebags are forming. “My poor Juju,” you whisper, “you look really tired, honey.”

Honey, honey, honey. How joyful he feels when you call him honey. “As always, you see right through me. I can’t hide from you, can I?”

“I never want you to hide from me.” A sweet kiss pressed to his cheek makes his stomach jump, like he’s a teenage boy with a crush. “Let’s lay down, shall we? We can finish opening everything afterwards.”

Jumin concedes, rising hand in hand with you until you’re both on the bed, curled up in each other. “What a terrible Valentine’s this turned out to be. I’m sorry, my love.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, kissing him slow, soft and smooth. “What are you talking about? You’re here where I can hold you, we’re both off work, and you’ve gifted me more than anyone else ever has or will in my life.”

“Good,” he says, satisfied that he’s set a standard that no one else can ever match for you. “But is that…enough?”

“Enough?” Your tone is incredulous. “Jumin, just you being here is more than enough. I love you so, so much, and I—“ You cut yourself off, slightly backing up as though you’re trying not to overwhelm him (a ridiculous notion, he would love nothing more than for you to overwhelm his every sense). “I cannot believe how lucky I am to have married you.”

This time he kisses you, the idea of sleep slipping further and further away because really, why should he close his eyes when he can only see you when they’re open? Why should he rob himself of the privilege to gaze upon your lovely face and listen to your quiet, soothing voice? Why should he do anything else, eat or drink or work or play, when he could simply kiss you for the rest of his life?

“I love you,” he breathes, pulling you closer because you simply can never be close enough. “Happy Valentine’s, my precious wife.”

///

Of course, the first time your schedule allows you to accompany him on a business trip he’s ecstatic. Finally a week without the headache of returning to an empty hotel room, and instead what will feel like more of a vacation, especially once he completes the necessary work and the two of you can spend the rest of the days lazing by the beach.

Because of the honeymoon, Jumin had become well acquainted with your fear of flying, and had arranged your seats in his private jet to be close together. As the jet takes off, he holds your hand in his as you squeeze, eyes shut tightly for the takeoff. Reassuringly, he kisses your hand, rubbing the back of it while his other hand strokes Elizabeth the Third’s head through the carrier she’s in.

“Poor Elizabeth,” you manage to whimper, still looking quite pale even after the takeoff is done, “I hope she doesn’t get airsick.”

“She doesn’t,” Jumin reassures. Elizabeth is used to such flights, unlike you. He’d much rather you focus on your own health right now.

The stewardess for the flight comes through with the cart of food and drinks. “Anything for you, Mr. Han?”

“A glass of wine.”

“Of course, sir. And you, Mrs. Han?”

“Oh, um…” You smile sheepishly up at her. “Would you happen to have apple juice?”

The woman blinks once, then, as though she’s fighting back a laugh, says, “Apple juice, ma’am?”

“Is that a problem?” Jumin cuts in sharply before you can answer, glaring daggers.

“No, no! O-of course I can give you apple juice, ma’am, I didn’t mean to offend—“

“No offense taken.” Even nauseous and teased, you smile kindly, eyes lighting up when you have your drink. If he remembers correctly, he used to drink apple juice when he would get airsick as a child as well.

When the stewardess leaves, you lean over and press an apple-tasting kiss to his lips, and he catches a few drops of the juice in his mouth. It tastes yummy, or maybe it’s just the taste of you that he likes.

Probably the latter. Either way, he’s eager to get this vacation started.

///

“I feel so good that you’re here. Thank you so much for coming. I…never want to let you go.”

…

“I’ve trapped you here, haven’t I?” he asks one night, after he thinks you’ve fallen asleep.

You’re wide awake, though, and he feels your lips on his throat as you whisper, “I’ve never once felt trapped with you, Jumin.”

///

You’re a lightweight, and it’s the most adorable thing Jumin has ever seen. Including cat photos. Including Elizabeth the Third. And you don’t realize just how cute you are, which only makes you cuter.

“Juju,” you whine, when he starts to guide you to bed.

“You have to sleep, my dear.” Almost smugly, he places a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Sleep and allow me to take care of you in the morning.”

The protest you seemed to be ready to fire back morphs into a happy giggle as you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his midsection. “I do like when you take care of me.”

“Likewise.”

For some reason, that sends you into more giggles as you press against him. “You talk so smart like. I love when you use big words.”

Biting back a smile, Jumin raises a brow. “Is likewise a big word?”

“Anything is a big word when you say it.” You kiss him softly, sliding your hands in his hair. You love messing up his hair, almost as much as he loves letting you do it. “You’re so smart. So clever. Your brain is like…” To exaggerate your point, you lean your head away, with his hands on your back to keep steady. “Soooo huge.”

“Not the only thing,” he hums slyly.

“Jumin!” Laughing, you hit his shoulder, only for him to tug you in close, making you squeak. The only downside to how well you two know each other now is that he doesn’t get to see your beautifully embarrassed face, but he still gets some wins when he catches you off guard.

“I’m only kidding, my love.” Watching your lips part for him as he leans in, Jumin kisses you this time, gently sucking your lower lip between his teeth. Let no one say he wasn’t out and open with his oral fixation when it came to you. “I’m honored to know you find me intelligent.”

You beam, nearly blinding him with how brilliant your smile is. “Intelligent, and funny. So, so funny. I love your jokes.” Now you turn your cheek, placing sloppy kisses along his jaw. “And handsome. I have the most handsome husband in the world.”

Jumin, only now realizing the difference between being happy and being giddy and knowing he’s both, can only close his eyes, tilting his head back. “Ironic for you to say, considering no one with your beauty has ever existed before nor will exist again.”

The way your cheeks flush make him realize that he, too, must be quite tipsy. Surely his stomach does not flip so violently just to see how your eyes glow at his praise.

“I love you.” You swallow, and he watches the movement of your throat closely. “Do you know how much?”

He exhales, not having realized he inhaled before. “M-more than is reasonable, I presume.”

“A lot more than is reasonable,” you whisper before kissing him again. This one is different, he can tell. Something more desperate. More wanting. More likely to make him lose his mind.

How does he know? It’s because you’re not just kissing him, you’re also borderline riding the knee he’s slotting between your legs. With a whine, you tug on his collar, as though you want him closer. Need him closer.

Losing his mind is just the beginning.

“Sit on the couch.” The tone with which you beg makes his already hardening cock twitch. “Please, Jumin.”

He obeys—how could he not obey?—and just the sight of you dropping to your knees to unbuckle his pants has him throwing his head back with a lustful groan. How did he get here? How did he get so lucky?

You kiss the head of his cock, and Jumin is gone.

When you start bobbing your head, eagerly sucking with your eyes closed in concentration, it takes every inch of willpower he has ever had to not cum immediately, so that this can last. With every slow caress of your tongue, he can feel himself getting lost in his own base senses, every coherent thought fading away and leaving only an animalistic need.

“Princess,” he moans, fingers in your hair. His words escape him in a slurred, barely coherent manner. “I, ahh, won’t last—shit—”

Coming inside your warm, wet mouth is not in the top five moments he remembers when he thinks of his favorite times with you, because he likes to think he’s classier than that, but regardless, he’s never going to forget this.

///

Growing up, the one trait that he was always told to avoid and to find disdainful in others was laziness. There is nothing worse than a person who is not efficient. People who waste time just doing simple tasks are not worth his time, he was told.

But surely, surely, that does not apply to you. (Or maybe it’s a silly lesson in the first place, another one to add the list he has started to garner since he married you.)

It does not apply when you have to get up early for work and you sadly try cuddling with him in the five minutes you have left to remain in bed. Most days Jumin leaves before you, pressing a kiss to the lips of the princess in bed before heading out. Your parted lips in sleep do such a number on him that he has to make sure not to linger too long.

Days where your job demands you wake with him are no less enjoyable, and perhaps even more so as he gets to witness your clinginess. Jumin tugs you to the bathroom, where you close your eyes and rest your head on his chest as both of you brush your teeth. When you finally make it to the kitchen, he seats you on the chair by the counter and amuses himself by watching your sleepy eyes follow him while he makes a quick breakfast.

“Maybe I could eat ‘n your lap?” you ask cutely, poking at your scrambled eggs with a fork.

“My dear,” Jumin answers, intertwining your fingers to kiss the back of your hand, “I would love nothing more, but you will fall asleep again.”

Not even an argument as you nod with a lazy smile, head falling forward on the counter. “I want to fall asleep again. How do you do this every day?”

“It’s what I’ve always done.” He’s finished with his eggs, so he stands, sweeping your hair aside to lean down and press a kiss to your nape. You squeal, squirming away as he catches you and tugs you to him, watching you immediately give up this play fight and snuggle into his chest to catch a bout of standing shut-eye. “Now come, Driver Kim is waiting to drop us both off.”

You shake your head, clutching onto him stubbornly.

“You can sleep on my lap in the car.”

And he feels inordinately pleased with how fast you move after that.

///

The days that he knows you will be at the penthouse when he returns, there’s always an extra breath in his steps, as if the air itself knows he must return home immediately.

Tonight, for example. He has a whole night planned. The two of you would cook the next thing to try on that list of recipes you printed and excitedly taped up in the kitchen, then after dinner he plans to play some soft music and waltz you around the rather spacious living room, and then both of you could go for a swim in the pool, and the night would end with you dozing off in his arms.

A perfect night. The kind he dreams about, the kind that he never can quite believe are real.

When he opens the door, he doesn’t hear any call of his name nor is he tackled in a hug, which only makes his shoulders deflate slightly. Elizabeth the Third softly mrrows at him from where she’s sitting on the couch. Placing a kiss atop her head, he pokes in to check a few rooms, searching for his wife.

You’re nowhere to be found. The only place left to check is the bedroom. His sweetheart usually doesn’t fall asleep so early, though.

He opens the door, then freezes in his tracks.

With a couple of candles lit up around the room, you sit on the bed, nothing on except the set of lingerie he ordered a few weeks ago at your request, black as the night sky (“because it reminds me of you”). A few pillows support you as you lean back, eyes trained on him. There’s a glass of wine in your hands, and another on the table next to you clearly reserved for him.

You take a small sip, and some drops purposefully miss your lips and slowly drip down your neck, down over the swell of your breasts.

“Care to join me, husband?”

Jumin swallows.

None of his plans end up coming to fruition that night, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

///

(You’ve pointed out how the most random things turn him on—when you wear his clothes, but specifically his striped shirts, when you let him buy something ludicrously expensive for you, when you do simple things to take care of him, when you wait for him at home after work, cat ears—cat ears, cat ears, cat ears!—and the rare moments where he gets to see you pissed off.

But he’d only responded how the things you were into were equally as random—seeing him disheveled after a hard day’s work or a visit to the gym, the way he answered business calls simply by saying Jumin Han speaking, what do you need, and every time you’re naked on his lap while he’s fully clothed.

Shall I remind you how desperate you get, my dear? he growls into your ear. Your cheeks flush, and Jumin reaches for the ribbon in the drawer, even more impatient than you are.)

///

There are other times where Jumin will arrive home and if you aren’t leaping into his arms, kissing him full on the lips as he spins you around or pins you to the wall depending on the mood, you’re sitting on the couch, typing away on your laptop either for your job or for the RFA.

In those moments, he finds himself easily sliding his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, absolutely reveling in the subconscious way you rub his nape and kiss his hair.

Sometimes you both will exchange stories of your day, expanding on something a phone call simply couldn’t cover or something that perhaps you had wanted to say in person to fully soak in the reaction (you seem to particularly enjoy how he insults the difficult clients you tell him about). Other times, there is a serene silence, only broken by Elizabeth the Third’s purring and the clack of your keyboard keys.

You smell so good, all the time. He wonders if he should be capitalizing on the perfume you use so that no one else can buy it. That way this scent would solely be yours, just like he is. Something about that idea blooms a warmth in his chest.

The best part of the night comes when you finish, closing the laptop and setting it aside before wrapping your arms around him. “I love you,” you say, only for his ears, just like how your lips are only for his skin, just like how your scent is only for his nose, just like how Jumin is only here to be yours entirely.

///

In the past, when he’s fallen ill, he’s either ignored it or simply just taken the necessary amount of time to recover. The last time he was pampered like this was as a child by his nannies. And even their doting paled in comparison to yours (but then, didn’t everything, when it came to you).

Because this. This, is heavenly.

Every single ounce of your affection is solely for him. Your soup that you feed him, your fingers stroking his hair, your voice sweetly singing him to sleep. Your lips on his forehead, whispering, “How are you feeling, Juju?”

Granted, because he’s sick, he can’t fully appreciate it without the feeling that his body is turning against him. But it’s worth it, it’s easily worth it.

So, the day that he wakes up with a low temperature, feeling absolutely fine, he still manages to cough pitifully and throw out the word to Jaehee that he simply has to take another day off.

You have a knowing smile on your face, but when he slips his arms around your waist, with his face buried in your neck, you still hold him just as warmly, and Jumin is so, so, so in love with you. Nothing could possibly stand to be better than this. One hand absentmindedly strokes his hair while you type on your phone with the other hand, communicating with someone from work.

Your phone starts to ring; he only shifts minimally to get closer as you answer it. “Hey, what’s up?”

He can hear the person who called—it’s one of your friends. “Hey! Check your messages, I won that ukulele I told you I would win last time.”

The sound of your laugh is so melodious, he’d do anything to get drunk on it. “Win another one for me, I’ll hang it up in my closet.”

“Yeah, right.” Your friend snorts. “I wish you were able to come. It’s been so long since we’ve been here.”

“I know, but Jumin really doesn’t feel well. I couldn’t just leave him at home alone.” As though your friend can see, you plant a kiss on his forehead. “We’ll go another time, definitely.”

“I’ll hold you to it. Alright, I have to go. Give the husband all my love, I hope he feels better.”

“Will do. Bye, have fun!”

With that, you hang up, resuming the scrolling through your phone and the stroking of his hair. Jumin is still, for good reason.

You had meant to go out with your friends today. And due to his not-actually-sick state, you had canceled on them.

Hadn’t he told you to put him second to your own self? But he can’t pin this on you, not when he was the one faking. A terrible feeling begins to rise in his chest, causing him to move away from you and stare at you with a guilty expression.

“Is your neck finally tired of…” You trail off when you look at him, furrowing your brows. “What happened?”

“You were meant to go out today.”

A small frown forms on your face. “Um…we made plans, yeah. But you were sick—“

“I wasn’t,” he confesses, ironically sick to his stomach. “I just wanted to take another day off and spend some time with you.”

“I know that.”

“I—you know?”

The frown on your face is replaced by a tiny smile, as you tug gently to bring him back into your arms. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Yes I am.” He pouts, still upset but more calm now that you don’t seem disappointed.

“Honey, the one time I kissed your finger after you got a papercut, you somehow got a papercut on every finger the following week.”

Jumin blushes, but you’re not wrong—he just craves your attention. You simply make everything better.

“More importantly,” and now you pull him into your chest, settling back into the same comfortable position with a kiss on his forehead, “I’m faking just as much as you, because I love it when you do things like this. Why would I complain? I get to spend time with you.”

This is what it feels like, Jumin is certain, to be loved. To be cared for and adored so deeply that it leaves an ache in one’s chest. “The next time,” he murmurs, as your hand finds purchase in his hair once more, “The next time you would like to go out to an amusement park with your friends, please let me know. I can buy it out for the day.” A thoughtful pause. “Or forever.”

Another soft kiss, he’s tempted to keep going, to make more and more outrageous promises just to earn each and every press of your lips to his skin. “My friends will appreciate that. I think the park is already owned by C&R, actually.” You chuckle. “Some fast passes though? I wouldn’t say no.”

Fast passes? He’ll ask you what in the world those are just as soon as he finishes kissing you (something a fake sick person can, thankfully, afford to do).

///

A soft knock on the door.

“Mother?” He makes sure to keep his voice to a polite volume. “I’ve played with all my toys. May I please come out now?”

Silence.

Jumin clears his throat, trying his best not to look behind him, just three steps down. It’s dark down there, and he knows it is not logical to be afraid of the dark, but even the logic does little to quell the growing fear inside him.

“Mother? It…it has been a few hours now.” Fourteen hours, he counted on the tiny clock that ticks a little too loudly in the basement. “May I please be let out? I’m starting to get hungry.”

That’s a lie, but he doesn’t think she’ll know. The truth is he began to get hungry hours ago, and is now close to starving. As if on cue, his stomach growls.

Jumin knocks again, the dread he feels growing with every second. “Please, Mother, I’ll be good. I’ll play with my toys. I’ll be normal. Please let me out.”

None of it makes any sense to him. In all the books he reads, none of the mothers lock their sons up in the basement. But then maybe none of the sons are as strange and abnormal as he is. They didn’t need to be locked up like he did.

Still, even if he deserves this, the loneliness is starting to scare him.

“Please.” Childish tears start to prick at his eyes. “Mother? I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”

The only response he gets is the silence, beckoning him to come back to the darkness where he belongs. With a trembling lip, he turns to face it once more.

The doorknob jiggles.

He whips his head back, not daring to believe it. Is this punishment finally over?

The first thing he’s going to do after he eats is call Jihyun, ask him if he’d like to go to the park nearby. Anything to go outside, in the light, with other people.

Except, to his horror, when the door finally opens, it’s not his mother standing at the top, but his stepmother.

“No,” Jumin whispers, stumbling back. He misses one step and trips, hands on the cement floor as he stares, terrified, at the woman. “Please, no. Where’s Mother?”

The woman at the top laughs, a sound that seems to make others happy but only serves to suffocate him further. He’ll choose to stay in the darkness for a hundred more hours before going upstairs to see her. “What’s this? Another woman in your life, Jumin? What a lady killer!”

He shakes his head desperately, as though to tell her that there’s no one, there’s no need for her to get possessive.

It doesn’t work.

“I’m your mother, Jumi.” He hates that nickname. “Shouldn’t you spend more time with me? You know I love our time together. I know you love it too.”

No, no, no, no, no. He’s on his feet in an instant, scrambling back away from her as fast as possible. His back hits the shelf, no longer a child but an adult, and yet still equally as pathetic.

“Your father doesn’t even pay attention to me anymore. You’re all I have, Jumi.” Her eyes turn cold. “But it looks like you’ve found someone else, haven’t you? You’ve replaced me so easily.”

Now her gaze is focused somewhere else. Jumin follows it, peers through the darkness, only to see…

You.

Relief floods his chest all at once. You are his solace, to hold close and worship. You are the only person to ever understand him, to love him without hurting him. You have accepted him no matter how much he’s shown you that he doesn’t deserve any of your care. As long as you are by his side, he can face anything.

“Jumin.” Even his name sounds so much nicer coming from you. Everything and everyone else seems to melt away.

He takes one step towards you.

You speak again, but it doesn’t sound the same this time.

“Jumin.” Now that he can see your face properly, you look…angry. “Don’t come any closer.”

Immediately, he stops, and that sharp fear grips his throat, squeezing.

“You’re fucked up, Jumin.”

The words spit out of you like a spear, hitting him right in the center.

It can’t be you talking. You don’t say things like that. You always tell him you love him, that you understand him, that you adore him.

But maybe you’ve just…had enough.

Tears begin to spill from his eyes. You stand before him, his heart in your hands, and you look at him with such disgust that he hopes the darkness in here opens up and swallows him.

“I’m leaving,” you say firmly, “don’t follow me.”

“Please,” he gasps, shakily reaching a hand out. “Please don’t leave me here, my love.”

But you don’t listen. You step up the stairs, grip the door, and with one last look of vitriol, you slam it shut, damning him to the darkness forever.

Jumin wakes with a gasp that’s really a sob, head jerking up and slamming against yours.

“Ah!” You grip your forehead, wincing in pain from your position above him. “Ow ow ow, that hurt!”

Like he’s in auto mode, Jumin sits up, touching your cheek with a terrified expression. “I’m so sorry, my love, let me call the doctor. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” You wince again, rubbing your forehead. “It’ll probably bruise later, but I can deal with it.”

He hurt you. He hurt you.

But you don’t have any of the hate that your dream counterpart did in her eyes. Instead, yours are filled with concern, and you cup his cheeks with such gentleness that he closes his eyes, immediately melting in your hands.

“Were you having a nightmare?” You kiss his forehead. “You were tossing and turning and mumbling in your sleep.”

As much as he wants to bask in your worry for centuries, it doesn’t stop the guilt that threatens to spill. “I apologize for waking you, my love. And for hitting you. I—I was having a nightmare, yes, but I’m alright now.”

“Jumin.”

“If you’d like, I can make some tea for you to help you go back to sleep—“

“Jumin.” Your lips are on his forehead again. “You’re crying, sweetheart.”

So he is. It’s strange he didn’t realize, but there are indeed tears wetting his cheeks. He opens his eyes to meet your gaze, looking at him so sincerely and with such care that this time he actually feels the tears pour down.

“Oh,” you breathe, brows meeting in concern. Your thumbs wipe his tears away diligently, and your lips begin to kiss every spot you wipe. Jumin trembles under your touch, hating himself for being so pathetic in front of you and simultaneously considering crying forever so that you stay here forever too. “What is it, honey? Please tell me how I can help.”

He wants to. But all he can manage to do is grip the back of your shirt in his hands, bury his face in your shoulder, and sob.

Not even for a second do you let him go. He doesn’t know how long he stays in your arms, seconds, minutes or hours. He cries, and cries, and cries, until his eyes feel swollen. and all the while your hand strokes his hair, your lips kiss his cheek, and your voice comes out in soothing whispers.

It’s okay.

I’m right here, I’m here for you.

You have me forever.

We’re going to get through this.

I promise I’ll stay with you as long as you want.

Even though he hasn’t told you what his nightmare was about, you still somehow know exactly what to say.

Even when he finally tires himself out, Jumin can’t stand the thought of not being held by you. He’s never felt this safe, this protected, in his entire life. He continues to grip your shirt tightly, breathing in and out, chest heaving. Any second now, he thinks. Any second now, you’re going to pull away and see how awful he is when he clings to you again, like a child.

You do no such thing. Instead, you lean back against the headboard, gently guiding his head to rest on your chest. It’s not the most comfortable position, but he shifts so that he’s sitting curled into you and pulls you forward gently to place a pillow behind your back. This way, he can hear your heartbeat.

And it’s that steady rhythm that makes his eyes start to droop.

But if he falls asleep again, he risks having another nightmare.

“Sleep,” you murmur, kissing his temple. Jumin’s eyes close on instinct. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The promise knocks him right out.

///

When he wakes, you’ve kept your promise, and you’re in the same unfortunate position, head lulled to the side as you snooze.

An indescribable feeling settles upon him. It’s not just one feeling, in fact, but multiple. Guilt, because he forced you to sleep like this throughout the night. Gratitude, because he’s pretty sure he’s in the arms of an angel sent from above. And most importantly, he feels white hot love, because he has clearly married the only person in this world worth a damn.

And as much as he wants to stay like this, he knows that will surely not bode well for the chiropractor appointment he plans to schedule for you. So Jumin slips out of your embrace gently, taking good care to lay your head down on the pillow. With you picturesque in front of him, he places a kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Thank you.”

“Ju,” you mumble in your sleep. Your hand seems to reach for something, stopping when he intertwines his fingers with yours.

An angel, indeed.

Jumin gets up fully, taking the time to brush his teeth and freshen up before going into the kitchen to whip something up for breakfast. He wasn’t expected at the office until after lunch, so he had time to really make something nice. Chocolate chip pancakes, instead of his usual strawberry.

As he makes the batter, he thinks. Last night was…an anomaly. There should be no reason for him to dream of people that no longer matter anymore. His present is the most important, and his present is, thanks to you, leagues and leagues ahead of his past anyway. He wants to forget it all, forget his mother and stepmother and even Sarah Choi, who, while she hadn’t made an appearance last night, had been in his nightmares more than once, in a bleak alternate reality where he actually married her.

But he knows who he really married. It’s the person whose arms are sneaking around his waist right now. You.

“Morning.” Your voice is exceedingly pleasant, especially when it’s cooed in his ear. “You’re going in late, right?”

“Yes.” He places a kiss on the back of your hand, pressing his lips to each knuckle. “And you, my princess?”

“All from home today, my prince.”

Inwardly, he feels a quick twinge of irritation. “I wish I could spend the whole day with you. I should call out.”

“I’m never going to dissuade you of that.” You kiss him right on the nape of his neck; Jumin shudders. “But it’s up to you.”

“I’ll end up burning these pancakes if you keep distracting me.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.” Your laugh is so pretty, he thinks, and he didn’t think he could describe laughter as pretty before you. “Um, before I get too off topic…don’t you think we should talk, Jumin?”

He knew you weren’t going to simply forget the fact that he had cried himself back to sleep last night. Luckily, before you’d woken, he’d already prepared for such a scenario.

“I apologize for disrupting your sleep. I had a disturbing dream, but it will not happen again.”

For a second, he thinks it’s enough to stop you from asking any further questions, up until he feels your arms slide out from under him. The next thing he knows, you’re turning off the stove before he can start on the next batch of pancakes.

Then, you’re gently turning him so he’s facing you, looking at you right in the eye. Jumin has seen that look before. It’s way too determined for even his stubborn nature, and it always comes out when you’re about to do whatever you want (a rare delight, given your selfless nature, but one he enjoys every time).

Your hands loop around his neck, and you kiss his cheek. Jumin closes his eyes as you speak softly. “Won’t you tell me what’s bothering you, love?”

It’s amazing that you think anything could bother him when you’re this close, calling him that.

“Just a nightmare,” he says softly, but you clearly don’t buy it.

“I have nightmares too, it’s very rare that one of them affects me that much after I wake up.”

“A bad nightmare.”

The other version of you flashes in his head again. You’re fucked up, Jumin. But she’s not you, and even though he thinks for a terrible second that you’re going to shove him away, you pull him in for a hug instead, warm and welcoming and cozy. The scent of your nameless-brand shampoo fills his senses—it makes him desperately want to go back to bed.

“Please,” you breathe on his neck. “That’s what you were saying last night. Please, Mother. Please, no. Please, don’t leave me.”

His hands grip the back of your shirt.

“Please talk to me, Jumin,” you plead. “Please.”

Somehow, he has to keep from crying this time. How pathetic can one man be? But he also has to acquiesce to your request, because you’re you, and he cannot deny you no matter how hard he tries. If you want him bare, you shall have him bare. If you want him destroyed, he will destroy himself in an instant.

“Alright,” he concedes, trembling.

Not wanting the kitchen, where you and him cook together and laugh together (and a couple other things too), to become associated with these tainted memories, he guides you to the couch, hands holding yours. You promptly get into your favorite position, on his lap with your knees on each side. With a sigh, he rests his head on your shoulder, the fabric of your shirt seemingly smoothing out the creases in his forehead.

Your lips on his skin and your whispered words of encouragement give him a courage he wasn’t aware he possessed. Jumin talks.

“You have not met my mother yet. There is…good reason for that. A week before our wedding, she sent me the profile of a woman she wanted me to marry. I refused, of course. But that is the first time she has reached out to me in years.” He clears his throat. “She and I did not have a pleasant relationship. I think some part of me was very disappointing to her, because instead of giving her the true challenge of parenthood I molded to exactly what she wanted me to be. She recognized that I was…abnormal.”

In the span of a few seconds, your eyes have hardened more than he’s ever seen them harden before. This isn’t determined. This isn’t even pissed. This is raw anger.

“Abnormal?” There’s a bite to your words. “Is that her way of saying she was blessed with an intelligent, kind child?”

“You are kind,” Jumin whispers, cupping your chin to press a short kiss to your lips. “As a child, I was perhaps more robotic than I am now. I took to the world of business rather quickly.”

“You were brilliant, Jumin. Were and still are.”

If he kisses you after your every reassurance, the two of you will never leave this couch (not that he necessarily minds that idea). The more disturbing risk is that he will break down in front of you, if he starts elaborating, not to mention when he begins to talk about his stepmother as well.

But that’s a risk that Jumin can now accept. He understands now, that he hasn’t known love before you, and that there will be a great many times he will feel afraid, but he also knows that there is no one in the world he trusts more.

Taking a deep breath, he continues.

///

Jumin is addicted—addicted—to making you cum.

The face you make when you orgasm—eyes shut, mouth open in a silent scream, head thrown back—is the most beautiful thing he’s seen in his life. He considers spending eternity with his head between your legs, recklessly licking you to completion again and again.

The sounds you make—God. They have him rolling his hips against the sheets, so close to finishing just from your taste. It’s an obsession now, one that’s been growing ever since you two were married. A stressful day or a bad meeting or even projects being set back for whatever reason, Jumin can get all that frustration out as long as you allow him to spread your legs and devour you. As long as you squeal on his tongue, make a mess of his face, cum on his lips once or twice or more. He only stops when you beg him to.

He could taste you forever.

But he reconsiders this commitment after he experiences the feeling of you coming on his cock once more.

A choked cry escapes him when he feels your walls clench around him. For a second, he can’t move, too lost in the way your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his skin. It’s the most pleasurable pain he’s ever had the fortune of experiencing.

“Ju-min,” you whine, legs clasping around his waist as he continues to thrust lazily, seeking his own release, “more, please.”

It really is always nice to know that he’s not the only one affected, enthralled and addicted to this madness.

///

Returning home to silence is still better than returning home to the sound of soft crying.

Jumin is on high alert in an instant, not bothering to take his suit or even his shoes off. You’re curled up on the couch, wiping your cheeks aggressively when you catch sight of him.

“J-Jumin, I didn’t hear you come in. Um…” You swallow, dried tears still obvious on your face. “I haven’t made anything, let me call the chef.”

He crosses the rug over to you almost blindly. There’s nothing else in his head, only you—your tears—you’re crying—you’re crying and he wasn’t here. His hands cup your face, wiping another fresh tear that rolls down your cheek as you look up at him, shaking.

“Who did it?” There’s a white-hot anger pulsing inside of him. He never sees you cry. “Tell me who I need to kill.”

A soft gasp escapes you, and you shake your head frantically as he sinks to his knees, taking your hands in his own and pressing reverent kisses to your knuckles. “N-no one did anything—I promise I’m fine, h-honey, please get up—“

Your laptop is set to the side, but the only thing on it is an email draft, giving him no clues at all. The last thing he desires is for you to have to recount that which distresses you, but he wants, needs, to ensure that you never get upset again.

“My love,” he swears, pressing his palms to yours, “please, tell me what happened. Was it something I did? One of the employees in the building?”

You whisper frantically, “No,” but even as you do another fresh wave of tears drip down your face.

Jumin wants to scream, wants to hurt someone, whoever is responsible, but he’s helpless, and so he lets intuition guide him, rising up until he’s next to you on the couch, and he’s pulling you in.

With a firm grip on his suit, you bury your face in his chest, shoulders shaking. In this moment, he recalls the predicament from that night, when the roles were reversed. How you’d simply let him cry, and held him all the while. Is he capable of…can he possibly bring you the same peace you bring him? Could you allow him to comfort you in the same way?

No matter what, he’s going to try. Anything for you.

Placing a kiss to your hair, he tightens his arms around you and murmurs sweet nothings, making sure you hear all of them. Everything from you’re the strongest person i know to i’m here for you, my love, i’ll be with you till the end of time.

“It’s just so much,” you finally hiccup, sniffing, “I’m busy all the time, they dump every project on me, I never get a chance to just take some time for myself and breathe! I’m always on some call, writing some email, visiting some area, I just want it all to stop. And you’re busier than me, and you do it so effortlessly, I can’t imagine how pathetic I must look compared to you.”

“You’re worth a hundred of me.�� His voice is fierce, and he meets your eyes with his entire honest conviction. “Nothing about you is pathetic. You…you’re hardworking, you’re talented, you’re brave, and you’re the kindest person I know. I do not deserve you. I’ve never deserved you.”

“Please don’t say that,” you whimper, face still wet. He squeezes you tighter.

“I apologize. This isn’t about me. You need a break, sweetheart. Please, just request a week or at least a day off.”

“Jumin, I can’t—”

“I’ll request off too. Whenever you get a break, I’ll schedule one at the same time, and then I’ll take you wherever you desire, or we can simply spend it in the penthouse, and lay in bed all day. Or I could buy your company,” he half threatens, half jokes.

You let out a weak laugh, sinking into him, but he feels the tension in your shoulders release just slightly. Placing a kiss at the top of your head, he quickly texts for the chef to come by within the next hour, then tosses his phone aside to hold you better, which is when he catches sight of your own phone. On the screen is an image of the chatroom—a screenshot, he realizes, since his own messages are in it and he hasn’t been on the messenger today.

Your gaze follows his, and a slight smile finally forms on your face. “Messages from when we first met. Ah, the day I came to your apartment, I think.”

Oh, no. To put it lightly, those days were not a good time for him (although he’d never say such a thing, because he finds it cruel to say that some of the hardest days of his life included the one where he met the most wonderful woman in the world). Heaven knows what foolish things he’d said, he’s tried to block out most of the times that didn’t include the sight of you in front of him.

“They calm me down,” you admit softly, “the screenshots I have. I’m glad I took them, I have almost a hundred pictures that remind me of all the butterflies I would get when I talked to you. Knowing you’re my husband is the biggest calm of the storm.” Your cheeks are still stained with tears, but in your eyes is a newfound admiration as you and him look at each other, as though you have all the time in the world.

Jumin’s heart seizes.

“I’ll request a week off.” You reach up, a thumb on his cheek. “Thank you, Jumin.”

Surely, he thinks, being needed by you is the best experience of all.

///

“Thank you.” Your voice breaks the silence, muffled on his skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your husband kisses you, impatient as always, and you adore it.

“You’re welcome,” he breathes.

#jumin x reader #jumin x mc #jumin han #mystic messenger #mysme x reader #jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc #jumin han smut #valkyrie stories

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reiderwriter · 5 months

Note

May I please request a fic where Spencer finds out about the new female team member’s love for gaming by seeing her play her Nintendo Switch on the jet? Bonus if he sees her struggling to beat something like Five Nights At Freddy’s or Catherine Full Body and he helps her out much to her shock

A/N: Thanks for requesting! I'm not much of a gamer myself, so it took a while to figure out what I should write. I went with FNAF because I’ve literally been held hostage by that Josh Hutcherson Whistle tiktok for the last seven days, so I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: mild spoilers for FNAF 4 Night 8, fluff.

“What is that?” Spencer asked casually, glancing over at the screen from his seat on the jet.

For some reason, despite facing monsters in real life, you'd been addicted to horror games in your downtime. Apparently, it was better for you if the crazy murderers were actually sentient animatronics possessed by the ghost of murdered children.

“It's a Nintendo Switch. It's a video game.” You replied without looking at him, heart racing from the pressure of the level.

“Like pacman?”

“Yes, Spencer, like pacman.” You sighed in frustration, trying to avoid running into the animatronics running around the building your character was supposed to be guarding.

“Then why is the screen black,” he said, just as Mad Freddy snuck up on you in the game and you lost the level. You sighed, head falling back in defeat.

You'd been stuck on night 8 of FNAF 4 for at least a week now, but who could blame you? You had to play completely in the dark, and you were dealing with some of the worst animatronics, too.

You'd been so happy to discover 20202020 mode, and you'd passed night 7 easy enough and they were honestly pretty similar, but one week into consistently playing it in all of your downtime, and you were seconds away from sacrificing your switch to the animatronic gods.

“It's supposed to make it more challenging. I think it's just impossible.” You threw the switch down, making sure all your progress (or lack of it) was saved.

“Can I try?” Spencer curiously asked from beside you, smiling at the soft pout on your face.

“Are you sure? It's not exactly your style…?”

“Humor me.”

You passed him the switch, showed him the controls, and snuggled back against your seat, eager to catch some sleep now suddenly. You had just closed a long case, and you may as well try to sleep now before the pile of paperwork made that impossible.

If it was easy to fall asleep, it was impossible to drag yourself from sleep.

You'd felt the familiar movements of the jet jostle you side to side, but you also felt a warmth next to your body that was too comfortable to convince you to even crack an eye open.

After a week on the case, plus a week trying to solve the game level, you really hadn't slept soundly in some time.

So when someone shook your shoulders, you simply ignored the motion again and cuddled closer to the arm and chest you'd wrapped yourself around.

Until you realised that the arm and chest had to belong to a person. And the only person that could be was Spencer Reid.

“It's okay, I'll wake her up, you guys go ahead.” You heard him say, with a few muffled voices agreeing.

You decided to just play dead as you heard the shuffling sounds of the rest of the team climbing off the jet. At which point you just happened to stretch yourself naturally out of your peaceful sleep.

“Spencer?” You yawned, trying to sound confused. “Did we arrive?”

You disentangled yourself from his body, realising that in facing him, your faces had hovered centimetres apart from one another. His breathing was calm, but you could feel his heart beating hard as you pulled away from him, mind racing at the not so innocent touches he traced down your skin as he let you go.

“Yeah, the team got off already. We should probably head out, too, before the cabin crew comes through to reset.”

You stood yourself up and grabbed your things, including your switch, now packed carefully into its carry case.

“So, you gave up as well, huh?” You laughed at the obvious sign of Spencer's white flag.

“What do you mean?” He said, grabbing his own bags now he was free from your grasp.

“The game? It was hard, right?” You smiled at him as he collected himself and turned back to you, pausing slightly.

“I finished the game.”

“What?” You whirled around on him, voice breaking through your lips before you could control it.

“I finished the game. I was just watching the credits when you… made yourself comfortable.”

You felt embarrassment spread through your body but pushed it down to make space for the sheer disbelief that known technophobe Spencer Reid had completed the video game you'd been struggling with for the past week.

“How?” was the only word that would leave your mouth as you froze in the aisle.

“There was a pattern to it. I realised if I went between the left door, the bed, and the right door, the fox thing-”

“Nightmare Foxy.”

“Right, Nightmare Foxy wouldn't come out of the closet. And then the others wouldn't pop up until 4am, and after that, it was pretty easy to get through.”

“Oh my god.” You stood in awe, blocking the aisle and forcing Spencer to stop next to you as well.

“You have to show me how. Please, Spencer, I need to see it.”

You hadn't realised your hand had crept up to grab his sleeve, pushing closer to him slightly.

“Are you free this weekend?” He whispered back at you as you realised that the space between you was miniscule. You could only nod your confirmation enthusiastically.

“Then it's a date.” He whispered again, pushing past you and letting himself off the jet.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #fnaf

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edenalieth · 6 months

Text

Pairing: Bangchan x afab!reader

Genre: bff to more, fluff, smut (mdni!)

Warnings: chan is a loud whiny boy, lowkey a perv too, dry humping, fingering (f), unprotected sex (don’t do this please), semi orgasm denial (f)

Honestly, Chan secretly loved when your friends were saying you would look good together and he couldn’t agree more. Through the years, his feelings for you had evolved into something deeper. However, afraid to ruin your friendship, he just kept them for himself and was fucking some strangers met on dating app from time to time. Despite his efforts, you were haunting his mind and he just ended up ghosting his dates. Yet, the devil seemed to have other plans for him today, making it difficult for Chan to stick to his principles…

Words: 3K

A.N: hi it's cami! i think it's the first time im posting a fic so close of an other one haha, english is not my first language so I apologize for the mistakes.. hope you enjoy ♡ — 231105

« Come on, stop moving or I’m gonna mess it up », you sighed, highly concentrated on your best friend’s hand. « As if it wasn’t already » he scoffed. As expected, you glared at him which made him laugh a lot. In fact, the nail art you were doing on him was pretty good. A mix of black patterns, some nails fully painted and you even tried some chrome on an other one. He loved to spend his evening at your house. It was kind of a ritual. At least once a week, you met together to do an activity and relax from your busy adulthood. Tonight was nail salon, as you called it. Then you would probably watch something and he would leave around 1am. The usual.

You were sitting cross-legged in front of him, wearing one of his old black tee you had stolen from his dressing and some loose sports shorts. If one of your friends were seeing you like that, they would not miss the chance to tease you about it. They always thought that you and Chan were crushing on each other. It was true that you were probably acting a bit odd compared to regular best friends. Always spending your free time together, calling each other daily, being a bit more touchy and cuddly. And saying you didn’t find him hot would have been a huge lie. Honestly, Chan secretly loved when your friends were saying you would look good together and he couldn’t agree more. Through the years, his feelings for you had evolved into something deeper. However, afraid to ruin your friendship, he just kept them for himself and was fucking some strangers met on dating app from time to time. Despite his efforts, you were haunting his mind and he just ended up ghosting his dates. Yet, the devil seemed to have other plans for him today, making it difficult for Chan to stick to his principles…

A bit bored while waiting for you to finish, he was freely looking at you, knowing you wouldn’t catch him. Still concentrated, your lips were forming a pout, he thought it was really cute and held back a smile. What wasn’t cute was the way his shirt, too big for you, was dropping on your shoulder and collarbone. This felt way too domestic. He was about to look away when he noticed it. The way you were sitting was actually giving him a full view on it. You weren’t wearing any underwear… His hand twitched and you started to grumble « Chan Bahng. Please stop moving. It’s the last one. » He could feel his cheeks and ears turning crimson as you looked at him right in the eyes. Did you realize something ? You seemed slightly confused but went back to your work. Why did he had to see it ? He needed to think about something else, anything. « Tadam! It’s done! » you proudly announced, a smirk adorning your face. « You like what you see ? » you were expectant. You thought it was really great but your best friend’s face seemed uneasy. Chan was caught off guard by the double meaning of your sentence. « Y-yea, it’s really pretty. » he stuttered. And it was but something else was really pretty and he started to wonder how it would feel on his tongue… You frowned « Hmm, you don’t seem to believe it. » you stated, arms crossed on your chest. Damn it. His pants were feeling tighter and tighter. He cursed himself. Why was he acting like a teenager suddenly ? « Y/N. I love it. And I would also love some tea. » he said in an attempt to distract you and for him to calm down. You rolled your eyes. « Geez. You men always want everything. » despite your complain, you stood up and went toward your kitchen buffet. The black haired boy almost sighed in relief. He started to scan his surroundings furiously, trying to find something to hide his growing boner. A pillow was resting on your sofa, this would do the job. « Which flavor do you want ? Mint ? Raspberry ? Earl Grey ? » you called him out, bringing his full attention back to you. You were tiptoeing to grab the tea boxes, letting the curves of your butt exposed. This was no good. No good at all. He was glad the pillow was covering him but how much would it last ? He couldn’t stay like this forever. He had to jerk himself off or he would paint his underwear real soon. « Earl Grey, please ». You put two cups of water into the microwave and went back next to your friend. He thought you would stay in the kitchen while he would quickly disappear into your bathroom but you didn’t. He closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking about your body, about how much he wanted to fuck you right now.

Getting yourself comfortable, you grabbed the remote to look through Netflix’s catalog in search of the movie you could watch and put your legs over Chan’s lap. When you did so, you felt your friend lightly jump. You looked at him. His eyebrows were frowned and he seemed in a sort of distress. « Channie, you’re okay ? » you were worried about him. His face was pretty red and he couldn’t stop fidgeting. « Yea, why would I not be ? » replied the man with a forced smile. You didn’t fall for his masquerade. « Stop this. You’re my best friend and I know when you’re not feeling great. » you came closer, your face few inches away from his as you put your hand on his forehead. He didn’t seem to have a fever but his skin was a bit moist. He gulped at the proximity. He needed to leave this room, right now. « My stomach hurts a little, that’s all. Maybe, I’m gonna go to the bathroom. » You nodded and grabbed the pillow covering him. « Sure. I’m sorry I put my legs on you. It must have hurt. » you said but his hand had grabbed the cushion as well. You tugged on it harder but your friend was resisting. He seemed all serious. « Don’t. » he pleaded. You came closer to use your full force on the pillow, distracting Chan long enough for you to remove it. « Why are you being so stub— » you didn’t finish your sentence, your eyes travelling from your best friend’s crotch to his face.

He just wanted to disappear right now and your reaction didn’t help. « Are… are you actually hard ? » you uttered. Fuck. You didn’t mean to say those words out loud but you were so surprised. Surprised, yes, but in a good way. The black haired boy, decided it was time for him to leave, you would talk about it later and brush it off. Just like that, it would turn into one of your inside joke and you would probably tease him about it for a long time. Standing up, he took his sweater but you grabbed his wrist. « How ? » you asked. « Y/N please… This is already really embarrassing… » Chan whined. He glanced at you but you weren’t disgusted or mocking him as he would expect, you seemed rather needy. The butterflies in his stomach were going crazy. Was he getting high hopes for nothing ? As if you heard his thoughts, you asked him to sit down again. He visibly hesitated but complied to your demand. With a sudden adrenaline rush, you straddled his lap and put your hands on his shoulders. Your core was so close from his bulge that the fabric of your shorts was brushing on it. Chan was frozen, not knowing if he was dreaming or no.

« You don’t need to be embarrassed around me. I can help you. » you said faintly. The man was dumbfounded and he felt like his heart was about to burst. He wanted to protect your friendship badly but seeing you being so genuine on top of him made him loose his mind. « Please. » he breathed out, his hands carefully traveling to meet your waist. You set your eyes on him, looking at his features. His brows, his soft brown eyes, his beautiful kissable lips… You cupped his face and softly closed the gap between you. As soon as your lips touched his, you could feel his hands grasping your waist tighter, making you fully sit on his crotch, his moan being muffled by your kiss. « Fuck… » he groaned, « I’m sorry, I didn’t… » he stopped to catch his breath as you slowly started to grind down on him. « Hmm ? » you hummed. How was he supposed to function if you were pushing him into his limits. « Y/N, you’re already driving me crazy. Don’t make things worse. » he inhaled. You gave him another light thrust, the heat in the pit of your stomach dangerously increasing. « Is this not helping ? » you asked with a mischievous smile blooming on your face. You were playing with him and he kinda loved the sight of it. « I don’t want to cum in my pants but into you. » he bluntly replied. A small gasp escaped your lips at his words, his hips lifting up towards you.

« What are you waiting for then ? » you whispered to his ear. « Shut up » he chuckled. Placing himself more comfortably, he brought your body closer to him, your bodies meeting each other in a sensual rhythm, your hands on his toned chest.

Chan was surely gorgeous but little did you expect to get dripping wet just by rubbing yourself on him, still being fully clothed. A sigh escaped his lips once again, his hands sliding to your hips to make you grind harder on him, making it almost painful. « You just looked so good earlier. » he pressed his lips on your neck, « Wearing my shirt as if you were already mine ». You tugged on his curls, making his head fall back.

« And you got hard just with that ? » you raised a brow, your free hand reaching for his zipper. « You’re not wearing underwear, I saw it when… » another groan as you were feeling his length. It trembled softly. « When you were doing my nails. »

You felt your cheeks getting red. « That’s unfair ! You already saw everything ! » you pouted between wet kisses. He laughed at your behavior while your hands were busy unbuckling his belt. « You can see everything too ». Resting on the back of the couch, he let you unzip his pants. His dick was thick and trapped behind his black boxer. You seized the hem of it, finally relieving the painful member glittering with precum. Chan sighed loudly. From the way his lips were a bright pink or the veins of his hands and lower abdomen were popping, you could say that the view was so breathtaking it had you squeezing your thighs together. Your friend didn’t miss that and started to softly pump himself. « Sinful » you thought, trapping your lower lip between your teeth, hands resting on his lap. You could feel the electricity running through your veins at the way he was staring down at you while jerking himself off. You wanted to feel him deep inside.

With a breath, you removed your shirt and started to lower your shorts but he stopped you. « No. They stay on while we fuck. » he almost growled those words, making your clit throb. « You can be so bossy sometimes » you shook your head with a smile. He hummed, kissing you with passion, biting your lip, sucking on your tongue. « I always knew you were a good kisser » you muttered. « Of course, I am. Never doubt of it again. » he replied with a smug voice. He started to lower his kisses, going down your neck, your collarbones, until his lips were attached to your nipple.

You ran your hands through his locks, gripping it and he loved the small pain coming from it. You focused your gaze on his face as you started to hump on him again, searching for something to satisfy yourself, watching his reaction. And he didn’t disappoint, more muffled sounds coming from his throat, making your breast vibrates. After a bit, he put an halt to your movements. « It burns a little. » he sheepishly said.

« Oh, I’m sorry! » he stopped you from leaving his lap, « It’s okay Y/N, we just need to put this to the side, hmm ? ». His look was eager, his hand waiting for your approval to move your shorts. You quickly nodded. With a grin, he put them aside, leaving enough place for him to touch your sensitive spot easily. « Gosh! You’re so wet that you even stained your shorts » he whispered, amazed. « Don’t say it out loud and do something for it! » you grumbled. What a pleasure it was when you felt his slim fingers sliding down your folds. He never thought this would happen, yet, here you were moaning on his hand. His dick twitched dangerously, some cum escaping at the sight of it. Your hips were unconsciously following his touch, steady and variating the pressure on his palm. When a first digit entered your pussy, you moaned into his shoulder, thighs lightly shaking. « Chan, fuck… ». It felt so good, just by the way he added one more finger, how he made them curl inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit, touching all the good parts of your core.

« Ch-Chan, can I touch you ? » you panted. You wanted to share your pleasure. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to let you do that, he was already too close. However, he wanted to see how your soft hand would wrap around his shaft. Staring into your eyes, he nodded. He removed his digits for you to concentrate on him, which became rather difficult when he put his fingers into his mouth, tasting you. He licked every single drop of it as if you were made of honey. « You’re so hot… » you sighed. « And you taste so good. »

You wrapped your hand at the base of his cock, giving it few strokes. A loud whimper escaped his throat. You kept going, your thumb rubbing the top of it, precum making it slippery. Yea, it wasn’t a good idea to let you masturbate him. « Y/N I’m gonna- » he chocked. He tried hard to hold back his climax, in vain. After few minutes, his seed was all over your hand. « Wow, you truly were on the edge » you teased him. He pouted. « Can you blame me ? I've been horny for more than an hour... »

He hooked your shorts further to the side. « But don’t think I can’t handle a second round, baby ». His voice was low and you got flustered by the pet name. He had never called you like that. « Make it wet for me, would you ? » he asked with an unsteady breath, bringing your hips down. Finally, your pussy was getting some attention, rubbing yourself on his length was making you lightheaded. You could feel Chan getting hard again under you, not wasting any time. Being skin to skin was even more appealing. You whined at the sensation, begging him to stop.

« What did you say ? » he mused, lifting your chin with one of his hand so you could look at him. « Stop, please » you cried. He chuckled, « And I was the one being on edge ? ». You frowned but your hips kept moving uncontrollably. You could feel the heat between your legs increasing and, when your mouth started to form an O, your friend rolled away from you. Leaving you clenching around nothing, aching.

« W-what ? »

« You have to come around me, Y/N. » he tenderly hugged you, grabbing your thighs to lay you down on the couch. Now towering you, he removed his shirt, letting you admire his toned torso and perfect abs before he got rid of the last pieces of fabric covering his body. You touched his lower abdomen, sliding down his thighs, mesmerized. He couldn't help but smile and kiss your forehead, putting both his forearms around your head, caging you. « Ready ? » he asked, a tint of impatience in his voice. « Yes ».

Positioning himself at your entrance, Chan started to push into you. You needed to get accustomed to the stretch yet, it felt already delectable. And the more he thrusted into you, the more you could feel your folds spreading for him. The growl he let out was the loudest you had heard until then. He was so vocal and it aroused you like crazy. You always had a sweet spot for men who were not afraid to let their partner know how much they felt good. « Fuck Y/N… you… » Chan blabbered. « Hmm ? » you hummed, unable to make an intelligible sentence. « It’s like you were made for my cock. » he panted. He was completely inside of you now, slamming his hips back and forth against your pelvis. His moans were filling the room and you inevitably joined him into his chorus. You were completely wrecking him, making you both see stars as a second wave of pleasure was growing. « Y/N, you’re… doing so well… taking me… all— ». Your name fell like a mantra out of his lips as he was marking his love into your skin. The praise electrified all your senses, making you unintentionally clench around him. « For fuck sake » he hissed. « Channie… I can’t—».

« Just a little more, baby… I promise. » he kissed you, your tongues twirling, your nails scratching the tender skin of his back. Wanting more, you lifted your hips up to meet his, the new angle giving him a full access to repeatedly hit your G spot. « Oh my god » you panted. Chan couldn’t even speak anymore. Your walls were getting tighter and tighter on him, making it difficult to move. He placed sloppy kisses, on your forehead, your nose, your neck, never stopping to compliment you. Tensed and overwhelmed, his pace was getting slower, creating something new after all that frenzy. That’s when you felt it, rushing through your veins. Unable to resist it, you let your orgasm take over you, shaking between Chan’s arms as he was reaching his own climax, painting your walls. He fell onto you, his head resting on your chest as you were softly caressing his curls. « Wow. » he laughed and you joined him. « That was intense » you added. He hummed, breathing the scent of your skin mixed to his own. « Was it helpful ? »

He raised himself high enough to face you. « You know you’re a brat, right ? ». You smirked, coming closer to his face, his eyes shining in anticipation. « Maybe ». Rolling his eyes, he fell back down on you to kiss you more.

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padfootagain · 3 months

Text

Blackout

Hi everyone! Here comes another fic for Hozier! Hope you like it! It isn’t an enemies to lovers, honestly, more like an… annoyed to lovers.

Hope you like this! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Warnings: none, it’s cute! Adorable even. Lots of interrupted kisses. Annoyed to lovers instead of a real enemies to lovers

Summary: Your new neighbour is insufferable with his music-making and his pretty face and his unbearably tall frame. Or is he? Maybe a blackout through your neighbourhood will make you change your mind about him.

Word Count: 5568

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It wasn’t that you hated him, really. You reckoned that you didn’t know the guy enough to hate him.

It was just that… he simply… got on your nerves.

Why? Well, the fact that your new neighbour was blasting electric guitar and wailing at 2am was a good start. And then there was just… something… something off. You couldn’t explain it. You just saw him and you went nope.

And that was probably mean, and uncalled for, to be fair. He seemed nice enough, during the day, when he was not waking you up at an ungodly hour. He was good-looking too, and he had a nice soothing voice, quiet and surprisingly gentle considering that he was a fucking giant…

Still, you couldn’t forgive him for ruining your nights and never even apologising. Or actually, he did apologise. Every time. And then, he went ahead and did it all over again the next day. The fact that he was a famous musician (that you had obviously recognised, you did not live under a rock, after all) was no excuse to bother your neighbours when they had jobs to go to in the morning.

What a jerk…

Still, you did need some flour to bake these cookies due for your friend tomorrow, now that your little demon of a black cat had dropped the whole thing on the floor… and then decided to roll in it so he could paint your entire kitchen with powder.

What a day…

So, that was the reason why you were now knocking on your neighbour’s door. It was a small building you lived in, with only three flats, and you knew that the couple upstairs were away, gone on vacation somewhere hot and sunny to drink fancy colourful cocktails, the lucky bastards. Meanwhile, you remained in your small town, while it was freezing cold outside, sky as grey as your mood, forced to see this unbearably annoying neighbour of yours…

You knocked a second time, perhaps he had not heard you. You knew he was in, there was light coming out from underneath his door. The shop in your village was closed today. He was your only hope to get these cookies of yours, sadly…

Finally, the door opened. Or well, it was flung open, actually. A grumpy look on handsome features appeared, towering you with his full height, long brown curls messily tied in a bun.

“Hi!” you forced a smile. “Sorry to bother you, but I… have a small flour issue. Could I borrow you some?”

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, but nodded anyway.

“Need anything else?” he asked, and his voice was softer than the look on his face would have suggested.

“No, thanks. Just flour.”

He seemed unsure of what to do with his long limbs for a moment, staring at you before he turned in a jolt, hurried back inside. You noticed that he hadn’t bothered with a hello.

What a je…

“I don’t have much left, I hope you’ll have enough.”

He handed you his half-empty bag of flour with a smile. It was pretty, even if it was unmistakeably polite more than anything else.

Why on earth were you thinking that, by the way?

“Thanks! I’ll bring this back quickly, promise.”

He merely gave you another smile, clearly uncomfortable.

“Okay, bye!”

You spun around before he could do anything but mumble a ‘goodbye’, and disappeared in your flat, just across the hall.

Leaning against your front door after closing it, you tried to remember how much of a jerk that man was. How annoying he was. And most of all, you tried not to think of how gorgeous his hazel eyes were…

There was a noise before you, and when you lifted your eyes, Salem was staring at you, paws and fur still partially covered in white flour.

Damn…

It wasn’t that he hated you, really. Andrew reckoned that he didn’t know you enough to hate you.

It was just… simply that you… made him nervous.

There was something about you that just made him struggle to breathe all of a sudden. The fact that the first conversation you had was you not-so-politely telling him to shut up already might have something to do with that. The fact that your cat had been peeing right before his front door on several occasions also played in your disfavour. And perhaps there was also the fact that he found you breathtaking, that he loved the sound of your voice, and that every time he saw you he was torn between an urge to snap at you and another to kiss you to finally make you shut up already. He also sometimes wanted to throw your cat out of the building, but he was too kind-hearted for this to ever fall into the ‘feasible’ category.

The other ones of his urges though…

He shook himself, focused on his guitar again, reached for the cup of tea by his side, sliding the two teabags to the side to take a sip. He needed to focus. He had a song to finish, damn it…

But then again, writing in this small flat he was renting wasn’t ideal. The roof of his home needed to be fixed, he couldn’t stay there for several weeks in a row while people were working on it. And as he was in desperate need for a place to stay while his roof was being repaired, and unwilling to simply stay at a friend’s house for weeks, he wasn’t picky when it came to the choice of flat for this short rental. He would be staying only for a few weeks anyway. He saw the flat on Air BnB, figured it would do, and moved in for six weeks.

The paper-thin walls were a challenge though. And being the night-owl he was, it was tough working only throughout the day.

He took a look at the clock on the wall. 9pm… surely he could make a little bit of noise still. No adult was going to sleep so early these days, lives were too busy for that, workdays too long.

He started recording, trying to get a few back-up vocals in. He could record some guitar quietly later, but he did need some strong vocals to get a feeling of the song. Perhaps it would help him finish this bunch of lyrics he was stuck with.

He had been working for around twenty minutes when he heard someone knocking on his door.

He stopped mid-note, cursing at the interruption. Your interruption, without a doubt…

He needed to work, it was still early, and you were getting on his nerves so fucking much…

He opened his door a little too hard, a dark expression adorning his features. And he was even angrier at you when he found you wearing casual clothes, a warm oversized hoodie and some sweatpants. He was infuriated by your messy hair and the way he wanted to run his fingers through it. He was so frustrated by the white traces of flour splattered across your cheek and sleeves and fingers, and how adorable they made you look. Cosy and comfortable and making him feel lonely like this, on his own, recording alone and singing to no one, making him want to hold you through the night…

“Hi!” you spoke first, but he noticed at once how forced your smile was. “Sorry to bother you, but I… have a small flour issue. Could I borrow you some?”

He was so surprised, he had to raise an eyebrow at that. No complaints about his singing? No… complaints in general? Were you alright?

He wondered why he was so surprised by that, anyway. You seemed to be lovely. He simply had never had the occasion to properly talk to you, that was all…

He nodded.

“Need anything else?” he asked, making his voice softer, knowing he had been a little rough as he had opened the door.

And for God’s sake, he had not even said hello! You would think he was an absolute knob… Was it too late to say hello? Yeah, of course, it was too late, he was pathetic, and there it was again, you were making him so damn nervous, staring at him with these beautiful eyes of yours…

“No, thanks. Just flour.”

He wasn’t sure what to do. For some reason, he was reluctant to walk in again. He didn’t dare question why.

Eventually, though, he did hurry to his kitchen, foraging for his flour. He had barely half a bag left…

“I don’t have much left, I hope you’ll have enough.”

He handed you his half-empty bag of flour and forced a smile. He hoped you wouldn’t notice that his hands had turned clammy, that he was struggling for breath a little… or a lot, actually. He didn’t know what to make of his long limbs, of his tall frame, he didn’t know what to tell you…

“Thanks! I’ll bring this back quickly, promise,” you told him, smiling too, although yours was more relaxed and he found it a little too bright, it made it dangerous.

He wondered if he should tell you about the white streak on your cheek, but decided against it. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, he was awkward enough for the two of you. God, it had been years since he had been that shy in front of someone.

Before he could find something to say (and he was trying hard to find something interesting to say), you were pressing your lips tightly together.

“Okay, bye!”

It was over already? Andrew was a little stunned by it, he mumbled a ‘goodbye’, brain functioning at full speed to find an excuse to make you stay, but found nothing, reaching to grasp only at air. A second later, you were spinning around, hurrying across the corridor and back to the safety of your door. He watched you disappear, and walked back inside with a sigh.

He sat back in his chair, picked up his guitar again. Damn, he needed to get a grip. He was supposed to hate you, for God’s sake…

“Oh, this got to be a joke…”

Andrew mumbled under his breath, heaving a deep sigh. As if things weren’t complicated enough already in this tiny flat…

The light had just gone out. In this wintery season, even though it was still fairly early, the sky was already wearing its nightly colours, although any traces of moon or stars were hidden behind heavy clouds. Without electricity, the whole room was drenched in darkness…

Andrew checked the battery level of his laptop, resting before him on the small desk where he had been working on a new song. Luckily, none of his music equipment was plugged in, so no damage from a power surge could have happened. He had about 35% battery left…

“Great…”

He saved his files, and used the light of the screen to look for his phone. He checked the battery there too, at the corner of the screen.

12%...

“Fuck…”

He turned the torchlight on anyway, having no other source of light in the room but for his electronical devices. He headed for the cupboard by the door, feet making the wooden floor creak quietly in the dark. He checked the fuses on the hidden electrical panel there, but everything was normal.

It wasn’t coming from his flat. In fact, it wasn’t coming from his building. As he peered into the street, all the streetlights had gone out. It was complete darkness, except for the distant lights of a car, that disappeared after a few seconds.

Andrew heaved another sigh, wondering what to do. It was 6pm, he had not eaten dinner, he had not showered – both vital needs that could not be fulfilled without electricity, unless he wanted to opt for a freezingly cold shower, and he was clearly not in the mood for that – and his phone, aka only source of light, was about to die.

Great… fucking great…

He reckoned that he had a few biscuits tugged somewhere, that would make dinner. He could still quickly wash up with cold water and take a proper shower tomorrow. He only needed a proper torchlight, or at least a candle to see something.

He foraged through the cupboards, drawers and every corner of the flat. No candle, no light, nothing…

His phone was down to 7% battery.

Damn…

There was, however, a solution to his problem. He could go and ask you if you could lend him any source of light…

God, he hated his bloody romantic brain for the line that immediately popped into his head.

She’s a source of light…

“Oh, just shut up, already…” he cursed at himself out loud.

He still opened the door, and walked over to your flat. He only hesitated once he was facing the wooden surface, hand raised in a fist and about to knock. He could feel his throat tightening, and some excited butterflies mingle in his stomach with something anxious and not quite nice. He could feel his palms becoming clammy. He bit down on his cheek.

Did he really want to do that? Knock on your door? See you? You could tell him to fuck off. You could be mean. Or worse, you could give him an earnest smile, what would he do with himself if you did?

But Andrew shook himself and finally knocked. He wasn’t a bloody teenager to be this intimidated by someone. He was an accomplished musician, in his thirties, who owned a home, bees and an awful lot of guitars. He had talked to many people who were way more intimidating than you, including the fucking president! He had sung in front of thousands of people! Tens of thousands! He could totally ask you for a torchlight and be cool about it.

His breath staggered when your face appeared, opening the door and looking up at him with these gorgeous eyes of yours, and his heart skipped several beats, and his brain simply ceased to function altogether…

Bloody hell…

“Oh, hi!” you spoke in an annoyed voice, but he somehow knew the feeling wasn’t aimed at him. “I was about to go over to your place, Andrew. There’s no power in my flat.”

“None in mine either. And nothing in the street. It seems the whole area is in the dark.”

You heaved a frustrated sigh, a long exhale through your nose, and Andrew couldn’t help but find you adorable like this, all frustration and annoyance. He wanted to kiss that frown of yours away…

But he shook himself instead.

She’s annoying as fuck. And you’ve interviewed your fucking president, you can ask your neighbour for a candle…

“I’m sorry to bother you,” he said, his voice more hesitant than usual, but steady all the same. “But there’s nothing we can do to get the lights back on, and there’s no candle or torchlight in the flat. And my phone is about to die. Do you have anything you could lend me for the night?”

But you shook your head.

“Sorry, got only one candle, and I’m using it. My phone is about to die too.”

“Oh… okay, nevermind then. Thanks anyway.”

“Oh wait! Your flour!”

You rushed inside, reappeared seconds later with the bag you had borrowed that morning.

“Thanks,” Andrew gave you a smile, one that he tried to make brighter than the ones he usually offered you. “Hope the cooking went well.”

“Yep! I now have lots of cookies! Luckily, they were finished before the power went out. The oven runs on electricity.”

“Yeah, mine too. Everything in the flat does, actually,” he answered with a wince.

“You’ve got some food for tonight?”

“Some snacks, yeah. It will simply not be a night for my infamous pastas.”

Andrew didn’t know how to react when you actually chuckled at his joke, a genuine smile now adorning your lips. It was all butterflies and leaping heart and air leaving his lungs.

Fuck… this was so much more intimidating than talking to the president…

“I’ve got some stuff ready, if you want. Nothing fancy, just a salad.”

You opened your door wider, a silent invitation, one he was too surprised by to seize right away, too busy raising an eyebrow.

“Oh… erhmmm… thanks… you don’t have to bother, though…”

“I’m not! I prepare most of my meals in advance, during the weekend. I have enough for you, if you want.”

“Erhmmm… it won’t bother you?”

“No, I…”

But you were interrupted by sudden darkness as Andrew’s phone decided to give up on life…

“Fuck! Bloody hell…” he cursed under his breath, tapping on the screen, but to no avail.

“Wait, the candle…”

You walked back into your flat, a dim light coming from the other end of the hall. He could only guess your form in the dark, but he noticed that you were stumbling as you cursed.

“Bloody… Salem! No! Andrew, close the door! The cat!”

Andrew didn’t think. He didn’t fully realize what he was doing as he stepped inside your flat and closed the door in a hurry. A soft brush against his ankle told him that your cat had not managed to escape.

“Did he run off?” you asked, reappearing with the candle in your hand, your features bathed in the warm light; something so ethereal, Andrew thought he was dreaming all of this.

But then he felt claws digging into his jeans in an attempt to climb up his leg, and he was reminded that he was not dreaming, indeed.

“No, he’s decided to use me as his personal tree instead,” he joked, bending to gently push the animal away, who mewed in discontent.

You laughed at that, sound clear and blinding, making him a little dizzy.

“For his defence, that’s an easy mistake to make.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Very funny…”

Still, he couldn’t refrain an amused smile, and yours brightened too.

“So, now that you’re in… want some of my brilliant chicken salad?”

You had no idea what had gone through your brain when you invited Andrew to come in and share a meal with you.

You were supposed to hate the guy. He was supposed to be the annoying musician next door who kept on yelling into some microphone when you tried to sleep.

It was difficult to remind yourself of that though, when the annoying musician turned out to be so soft-spoken and sweet. Sweet. Yeah, that was the most fitting word to describe how your evening was going with him so far. He seemed nervous as well, an unexpected reaction to your modest flat and perfectly ordinary self. The guy had sung in front of audiences of thousands and probably met an awful lot of people who were everything but ordinary… and yet he was shifting his weight now from one foot to the other, as if he didn’t know what to make of his long limbs. You found that adorable…

The fact that he looked stunning in the warm light of the candle, with his hazel eyes looking almost black in the dimly lit room, his hair held in a messy bun, the photons caught in his beard and long eyelashes… yeah, that was not helping at all, either.

You cleared your throat while handing him a glass of water, which he quietly thanked you for. There was nothing special about your meal, but he complimented you anyway. He stole a couple extra cookies for dessert, and you smiled at the sight.

“Sweet tooth?” you asked, nodding towards the crumbs in his plate, the last remnants of the fourth cookie he had been devouring.

He looked sheepishly at you.

“Kind of… sorry…”

“Don’t apologise! I’m glad you like them.”

“Well, you did make them with my flour, so I guess I’ve partly paid for them,” he joked, successfully making you laugh.

He was funny, which didn’t help you reminding yourself that you ought to despise him either.

If you had both struggled a little to start a proper conversation at the beginning, you were more relaxed now, and Andrew seemed to be feeling the same. You had barely talked to each other before, your interactions limited to polite chit-chat typical of neighbourhood, and you being annoyed at him, and him being annoyed at you.

It turned out that he was nice, that he was kind, that he was funny and smart and that he had an awful lot of anecdotes to tell. Time flew by, the night deepening faster than expected, and you remained sitting around your dinner table even after your plates were empty, talking about your lives and discovering that you had quite a lot in common, after all.

Alright, he wasn’t as insufferable as you had first thought, and for sure your heart leapt every time he smiled, and you couldn’t deny that he was gorgeous…

… still, you were supposed to hate him.

He helped you wash the dishes, joking and making you laugh, and hell, it was hard to stop your heart from beating too fast.

Out of annoyance, of course! You were annoyed… that was why your stomach made some crazy flip-flops when he bent closer to you to secure a plate in the cupboard above your head. It wasn’t at all because his shoulder was touching yours, because he stood so close you could smell his earthy perfume and it made you dizzy…

Nope! None of that… of course…

And when he looked down at you, remaining just as close, and you caught him staring, caught the bopping of his Adam’s apple and the tensing of the muscle in his jaw, the sudden urge you felt to reach up for his collar and pull him down until you could kiss his lips was a reflection of your frustration against him, nothing more.

Nothing more…

His eyes left yours, blinked a couple of times and landed on your lips, and you were certain that the sound of his breathing had disappeared. And you both remained there, standing still, staring at the other and you wondered if he was thinking the same thought as you did, having the same surprising longing to close the space between your bodies. You weren’t sure why you had invited him when you thought you disliked him. But then did you really dislike him? Or did you simply smell danger in his bright smile, saw risks in his pretty eyes, and the fear of falling in his deep voice? Yeah… yeah, perhaps there was a little bit of that, too… You tilted your head up, and he lowered his head, just a little bit, the ghost of a movement, you could almost have dreamt it…

But then he moved away, in a jolt, blinking and clearing his throat as if catching himself doing something mad and wrong and stopping before he actually performed the sin. You disliked him once again, then, hating that he elicited disappointment…

You finished washing the dishes in silence, and you hated the feeling of discomfort that suddenly replaced the warmth he had brought before. He was back at shuffling around, clearly uncomfortable. And yet, when he looked at you again and caught your gaze with his, his expression softened.

“Can I confess something?” he asked out of the blue, but you nodded in encouragement despite your surprise.

He sounded serious all of a sudden, and he took a moment to look for the right words. His eyes seemed to search for something in yours, and you couldn’t look away while he looked so intensely at you.

“I… I’m sorry we kind of… hit it off in a bad way. Cause I… you’re not as bad as I thought you were,” he added with a tinge of humour and lopsided smile, which made you smile too.

“Yeah… you’re not as insufferable as I thought you were either,” you admitted despite yourself. And yet, as soon as the confession passed your lips, you couldn’t deny that you truly meant it.

He grinned, the sight making your heart skip a few beats.

“Is there a way that I can repay you for your amazing chicken salad?” he asked, his tone more playful again, eliciting warmth across your frame.

You couldn’t refrain a laugh.

“I mean, it was an amazing salad,” you leaned into his joking tone.

“Spectacular. It deserves some kind of retribution, somehow…”

“Well, you’re a musician aren’t you? I’m sure you can find something.”

He laughed at that, clearly taken aback by your answer, but if he blushed and rubbed his neck in a mark of sudden shyness, he didn’t back down.

“You’re aiming straight for the serious topics,” he teased.

“For the free concert tickets, if we’re being fully honest…” you joked, making both of you laugh.

“Oh, I see! That’s where the sudden kindness comes from! You want to exchange a chicken salad for a show!”

“Absolutely! Do you have any idea how much time and energy I’ve put in that salad?!”

“A tremendous amount, no doubt! Well… sorry to disappoint, but I’m not on tour at the moment.”

“Good, cause I was aiming for that other artist you might know.”

He broke into a loud laughter, one that filled your apartment and your frame alike with joy.

“What a well-thought plan! I’m afraid you might make me more important than I truly am, though.”

“If I give you an extra-cookie, I’m sure you’ll find a way to get me the show I want.”

“And here you go, using my weaknesses already, you clever lass!”

“A genius, that’s what I am!”

You laughed again, before you would grow more serious again.

“Seriously though, don’t mention it. It was nice to have dinner with you.”

His smile grew more tender, his gaze softened.

“Yeah… it was nice for me too. And perhaps you… perhaps we could do that again? Next time I could be doing the cooking.”

“And with actual lights on, that could be good too,” you joked, making him chuckle as he nodded.

“And well… I’ll have my guitar with me, perhaps I can repay you with some music then.”

“Wow… are you offering a free concert, or a form of serenading?”

You were joking, but you noticed the way his cheeks reddened, and he averted his eyes for a few seconds, before capturing your stare with his once more.

“Rather the second option, I reckon.”

You tried very hard to hide your reaction: the way your heart skipped a few beats and then became absolutely erratic, so much so that you wondered if it could beat hard enough to break your ribs and escape your chest altogether; the butterflies that flew across your stomach; the breath that got caught in your throat…

Damn, you hadn’t felt like that in years…

He averted his eyes once more to speak again.

“Ermmm… unless you wouldn’t like that, of course.”

“I… Actually, I think I would like that. Quite a lot.”

He looked at you then, his smile turning into a grin. And he blinked, eyes falling to your lips a second time this evening…

You reached for your kitchen counter, hesitating in taking the first step and leaning into your urge to pull him down to kiss him. How crazy was that thought? That you could be kissing Hozier, of all people; that you wanted to kiss the neighbour you had categorized as annoying for weeks; that you felt exhilarated like a teenager at the mere thought of touching his cheek…

He seemed to be hesitating too, and you heard him take a sharp intake of breath, blink again, and then he slowly leant down…

… and then it was complete darkness in the room, as the candle died out.

You jumped in surprise, taking a step back involuntarily and letting out a squeal as you felt your heel brushing your cat’s tail. Salem hissed, although you stopped your step before you could hurt him. You started to lose your balance though, when a pair of hands reached blindly in the dark for you, grabbing both of your upper arms and pulling you forward. You collided with something warm, hard and steady, and the earthy scent that enveloped your senses and made your head spin told you that you were pressed against Andrew’s chest.

“You’re alright?” he asked, worry audible in his tone.

“Yeah, just… almost stepped on my cat.”

“Is he alright?”

“Yeah, I almost stepped on him.”

He let out a low hum, almost a rumble, the vibrations echoing through your cheek and you had to close your eyes at the reassuring feeling. You reached up to hold him without thinking; there was something so safe and soft about his embrace…

His left hand moved from your arm to your back, a soothing caress as he pressed you closer. Meanwhile, his other hand was slowly moving up your arm, torturingly slow, making its way from your arm to your shoulder, and then it was time for a brush of long fingers across your neck that made your whole body tremble, and he kept on going until you moved your face so he could cup your cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing delicate circles into your cheekbone. You didn’t dare to move, afraid he would leave your arms, afraid you wouldn’t feel the warmth of his body sipping into your clothes anymore. But then, you felt his warm breath fan over your forehead, near your hairline, and you looked up to see nothing but shadows, your hair brushed against the tip of his nose.

But then you were blinded, as the power was back on, the lights now turned on again.

You both jolted backwards, blinking hard against the outburst of light, and you heard him cursing under his breath.

And just like that he was gone, and you could have cried from the cold that replaced his body in your arms.

It took both of you a moment to regain your composure, to realize what was happening, where you were, what had almost happened.

Almost…

When you caught his gaze again, you couldn’t make out what his hazel eyes were saying, pupils still dilated after spending so long in a dimly lit room and then in complete darkness.

You struggled to swallow, unsure what to do next. Were you supposed to act like you had not been close to kissing a second ago? Were you supposed to joke around again? Were you supposed to talk about it? Were you supposed to ask him on a date?

You read the same hesitations in Andrew’s eyes, although something soon shifted in his gaze. Something determined appeared, and a little scared, but lovely all the same. And before you could react, he had taken a step forward to close back the space between your bodies, had reached up to hold your face in both his hands, and was crushing his lips to yours.

Your brain ceased to function altogether, you were too stunned to realize fully what was happening. But then your braincells caught on, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to bring his even closer as you kissed him, sighing in his mouth as he parted his lips to taste you.

For how long did you remain like this, standing in your kitchen, untangled and kissing? Hard to tell, impossible even. But when you broke apart, both of you out of breath, you rested your forehead against his shoulder, and he held you close, as if he were afraid you could leave.

“What the fuck was that?” you asked, your voice full of shock.

He chuckled at your reaction.

“You know, when a man and a woman really like each other, sometimes…”

“Don’t,” you warned him, but couldn’t refrain a smile all the same.

“Sorry, bad timing.”

You looked up at him, and by the look he gave you, you guessed that you weren’t very good at hiding your sudden nervousness.

“I’m not the ‘one-night stand’ type,” you warned him.

Andrew slowly nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Okay.”

“Besides, I’m supposed to hate you so…”

“Hate me?”

“You’re supposed to be the hot but very annoying neighbour who I blame for all of my life’s problems.”

He laughed at that, a smirk forming on his lips.

“You think I’m hot?”

It was your time to laugh.

“You’re not too bad,” you answered, but the look you gave him made him blush.

“Well, you’re not too bad either. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“I’m sure you can do better than that.”

A spark of mischief appeared in his eyes.

“If you want, I can get going with the serenading.”

You laughed again, shaking your head, but playing along all the same.

“Tempting. I won’t give myself away for less than that.”

“Dully noted. I’ll make efforts to woo you properly, I promise.”

You shied away a little, but he held you a little more tightly against him.

“What about a proper date though?” he asked, all traces of humour now gone from his voice. “Tomorrow night?”

You smiled up at him, nodding your head, before burying your face in his shoulder again, and he held you tightly against him in response.

Yeah, he truly was insufferable, without a doubt…

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x y/n #hozier x you #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier oneshot #hozier fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #oneshot

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narcissarina · 21 days

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HIII! How are you, pookie? Here a request.

Honestly I love vendetta Leon, I think he has so much potential in fics! So, I was thinking about grumpy vendetta Leon who gets paired up in a mission with agent reader who is younger than him and they're full of life, literally a sunshine.

Leon sometimes would be bothered by reader's attitude, like 'why are they so happy?' or something like that, but after finishing the mission he would get used to reader, yet he would be his usual stern and cold himself. After some months of working together, Leon starts liking reader because they make him happy or something like that. (they could end together like a couple. You can make it fluff, angst or smut, it's up to you! I also loved your last fic, bodyguard Leon it's just another level 😭)

I'm doing fine lovieee!!! Ty for the request ^-^! Ngl I had an idea and idk if you're into a crossover trope but I DID IT>:)) Reader from SHIELD from the marvels!! Two different agents working together for their agency benefits omg. Hope you like it pookie!!😭🤞 lil smut in here😍😍

Crossed Paths𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ

MarvelAgent!Reader x Vendetta!Leon

Word count: 3,546

𝙸𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎.

Leon thought to himself, “why can’t I have a peaceful vacation?” His peace always gets interrupted when he had been given a chance to enjoy his day off, even if it means his vacation is drinking his problem away and get wasted.

After that mission, he was assigned yet again to another. He took his flask out to clench his thirst but Chris quickly took his beloved alcohol away from him, “come on, Leon.” Chris sighs and put the flask aside, he earned a grumble from Leon as the tired agent sat on his seat and lean back.

He doesn’t know why he’s still here, his mission’s finished, right? Can’t he go back to his vacation and drink away? Why did the D.S.O assigned him to another mission when they clearly gave him a day off, he hasn’t been able to enjoy his break the fullest.

“Why am I here?” He asked himself, Chris cock a brow and elbow on his knees. Nudging his friends leg, “you good?” he asked, Leon hums and spread his legs apart—his mood shifting and his patience running.

Voices broke out, coming closer to the two.

“We’re glad you have convinced Director to have you work for us for a while, agent.” A males voice was heard, a heels that belongs to a female clicks as a soft chuckle was caught, “it’ll benefit both us, that’s why it took director to agree.”

The door was swung open, Leon’s eyes darted at the two individuals—he recognize the man but the woman beside him, he didn’t met before nor does she works for the D.S.O, Leon tap Chris’ shoulder with the back of his hand and point directly at you, “who’s she?” he asked in a whisper, Chris shrugged and respond, “probably from a different agency base on her attire,” the males eyed you from head to toe, “uhm, or a new recruit?”

“A new recruit doesn’t look like that, Chris.”

Your eyes quickly caught the two agents, Chris quickly looked away and cleared his throat—Leon on the other hand, maintain eye contact with his arms folded against his chest. “She looks young,” Chris hums to Leon’s remark, “guessing she’s in her mid-twenties or something like that.”

A smile flashed to him, your eyes smiled with your lips—as if the sun was kissing Leon all over the face. Your attire, Leon assumes it’s a uniform that all agent wears in your agency—all black, straps over your thighs, waist and chest. Fit and highlighting your curves.

“Ah, agent Kennedy!” The man exclaimed, his voice raised as he walks to the tired agent, “please to see you here, this is…” you cut him off and told Leon your name, he hadn’t heard that name before so he knew you’re not from around here.

Furthermore, Leon got the gist of it—you, from the S.H.I.E.L.D comes to work with D.S.O for a while, approximately for eight months via contract. And, he’s assigned to be with you, special mission was also been handed over to the two of you.

Chris left Leon with you after a few minutes hearing about the mission that’s been given for him and yours only, giving the tired agent the best before leaving.

“Fantastic,” Leon groans and threw his head back, “not the reaction I am expecting, agent.” You smiled and take a sit beside him, taking the file from his hand, flipping pages and humming to yourself. Silence was loud as you speak to break the eerie silence, “I never expect you in this kind of state.” You murmur.

Leon shot his head up and looks at you, “what do you mean?” he asked, “when I read your files, you were quite a charm sir.” You turn your head and grin at him, “and younger, full of life—now…” you stop yourself and chuckle, Leon doesn’t know whether he would take that as an insult or a compliment.

“You have files about me?” Leon click his tongue and shakes his head, “don’t believe ya.” He mutter, taking his flask from the other side of the table, raising a brow as you took it away from his hand, “come on!” he grumbles and rolled his eyes, “can’t drink today, Leon. We have a job to finish.”

“About the files…” you started to tease the agent further, explaining little events that had happen to his life—how you knew the shits he had to endure and how he was forced in this agent gig just to protect someone, but you didn’t drew the line. It did made the agent irritated, resulting him to walk away.

You laugh at his reaction, you will have your fun breaking down his walls bit by bit and give him the relaxation he deserves. After all, he’s been through enough right?

“Why are you here?” He groans, you smiled up to him, “I mean, gonna share some intel on our mission, no?” you remind him and share the location and what are the objectives to accomplish, Leon had no choice but to listen—he is assigned with you after all.

What he had in mind is that you’re all smiles, always flashing your teeth to him as your eyes smiles too—you’re just so… Happy, full of life and energy. And he’s, well, grumpy.

It gives sunshine and grumpy duo, you were always asking him if he got that and that he’s still listening, of course he is! He’s just wondering what kept you look sore in the eyes.

“So,” Leon starts, his tired eyes gazing to you, “the contract only last for eight months?” he raise a brow and tilt his head to your side as he question, you nod in response and cross your leg—a smile forming on your face, “yes sir, and I’ll be out of your ass after eight months.” You heard a scoff from him and drink from his flask, “that’s good.” He murmurs.

Laughing at his response, you read files about him back at S.H.I.E.L.D’s and you never knew that the man had his colors drained, well—you want to change that, add a little blues and hues to his life and it’ll give him the thrill.

“Do you always dye your hair every phrase you go down to?”

“What do you mean?” Leon sighs and asked, wondering why he even bothers hanging around with you as you swirl your drink in hand, “I mean, you were a bright bloke the night before the incident back at Raccoon City, then when you went to save the presidents daughter—your hair became a little dull and longer and so on so forth and now…” you eyed him from his chest and head, “you look emo.”

He would be lying if he didn’t crack a smile, “You’re funny.” He says sarcastically, you gave a bow; hand in chest and bow down with elegance. “Why thank you, my good sire.” You tease.

Well that wouldn’t end well, assignment had been piling up on the two of you and it result you always carrying the mission and giving Leon light works, he always asked why, your responded with: “can’t have my senior break his back.”

Even though there was the big assignment for the two of you, you help Leon first with his extra ones—paperwork and some stuff he needs to finish rather than stressing around it, saving him from the burden. Then the main event had finally come.

Retrieving an item for the D.S.O and data for S.H.I.E.L.D, wondering why can’t S.H.I.E.L.D’s best heroes do this—to be honest, they’re busy on their own saving civilizations. And you’re chill being away from them for a while, and only a month; Leon started to get used from your tactics and personality. Although he’s still his cold, grumpy, stern and glaring anyone that invade his space.

“so, what kind of monsters do you fight?” you asked, shooting at the enemies opposite side from Leon, “zombies and some fucked up shit that B.O.Ws create.” He shouts from above, you gasp and smack the zombie in its head and shot it, “you guys fight these stuff?” you speak with curiosity.

“Yeah, why’d you ask? No, what do you fight?”

“Aliens from outer space, crazy things that got in New York and oh! There was this god who uhm,” you pause, stabbing your opponent with the tip back of your heel, “who almost held the entire city hostage.” You chuckle your last word and turn to him, he couldn’t describe anything right now. Probably the word silly and unbelievable would do the trick.

He jumps down and land on his feet, stepping towards you and hand on his hip, “you got to be fucking with me.” He remarks, not believing a word that you just said, “do I look like I’m lying, Mr. Kennedy?” you hums and took your hand off the chest of the zombie, taking the heart with you as it was still beating.

“Don’t…” he points to your hand, “fucking do that shit.” He finishes and sigh, “and I don’t know whether to believe you or not, but no.” his lips turns to a thin line and his brows still furrowed, “your face looks like it hurts.” You pointed out and threw the heart in your hand away.

The agent doesn’t know what he’ll do to you, you got the energy and stamina to be optimistic about everything and he doesn’t know where you’re seeing the light.

You turn your head to him, folded your arms and shift your weight to your right—both of you covered in crimson from the enemies, “got the thing?” you question him as Leon brought the item that the D.S.O wanted and wiggle it on the air and put it back to his pocket, “how about you? Got the data that S.H.I.E.L.D needed?” you flash him the document in hand and push it to his chest.

“Tada! Teamwork, baby!” you yelled and pat his shoulder, “by the way, do we only take your bike all the way back?” Leon nodded and walks off, you followed. “That sucks, I’ll share the pay for the gas.”

You hum your way out and got to his vehicle, it’s still daylight and he never thought that the “big mission” that he got assigned on with you would be that easy, well since you carried. Leon got to give you credits for that.

“Hop on.” He lets you hold on to the documents and got on, you stared at him blankly, not moving an inch. “What are you waiting for?” he asked, groaning as he wants this to get this over with, “you know, base on the data and files that I read about you, uhm… I don’t trust your driving skills, I didn’t got killed by big enemies and here I am, going to die with your driving.” You murmur under your breath.

Leon felt insulted by that, squinting his eyes as he groans in annoyance. “It’s either I’ll drive or leave you here.” He gives out a choice, although it’s an ass of a choices but you got to his back and be his passenger princess.

One hand around his waist and one hand holding on to the data that’ll you bring back, your chin rest to his shoulder as he starts the engine and took off.

The whole ride was you telling stories about your time in your own agency, how you got in and how you met the Avengers that the Director put together, you were included on the team as well. You told Leon how the Avengers broke out a civil war, it kept him entertained by your silly stories that he finds unbelievable—well, zombies and mutated things would be considered as fictions too but it happened to him so he’ll probably give it a pass.

You both made it back safely, you kept your promise and fill his tank full and paid for it and you were delighted that you’re still in one piece after riding with Leon, you kept the document safe somewhere in your arranged office inside the agency and Leon gave the item they needed.

Mission accomplished.

But you still have four months left before the contract ends, you spent those four months helping Leon and turn him into a better version of himself—you share your point of view and emphasize with his struggle, you shared laughter and warmth with him.

It made his day, he would be lying if he doesn’t enjoy your presence. He got used to you, always greeting him with a smile first thing in the morning, coffee in his hand than the usual flask that he drinks in. Although he still looks as terrible, he thinks his mental health is improving.

There was a time that you’d go annoy him and he’ll snap at your shits, like the one time you gave him a hug then ran off after squeezing his tits.

“You know,” you start, your heels clicks as you turn to Leon, he squints his eyes—not trusting your tone of voice, “what?”

“I think you need a hug,” you open your arms wide, your lips turn to a pout and gave him the embrace that you think he deserves, with a little squeeze too. He was stun and dumbfounded at the sudden affection, “what in the actual fuck are you doing?” he hisses, but didn’t pushed you away.

“I’m hugging the most dangerous agent known to man,” you hum, burying your face to his chest, “you know, to look for a good man is to look for his heart.” You added and nuzzle, the agent gave an ick expression and question further, “heart? Why are you burying your face to my chest then?”

“Not my fault that your tits were in the way.” You respond and quickly grab a handful of his tits and squeeze it hard as you can and ran off, “son of a bitch! Get back here!” he yelled—caught him off guard as he chased after you and your giggles burst to every corner of the agency.

Hey, at least you’re giving light on the place, right?

If you’re being honest, you’d let him blow your back if he asked to take his frustration out—you’d notice his erection every after assignments that you help him with, asking yourself how he’s able to hold it all in and not jerk off. Does his dick just calms down?

You were dropping hints to him, launching flirty unsuspecting comments and small gestures but he seems to be not taking the hint, poking his buttons every time you want him to ask you for help.

Dreams do come true, maybe. You and Leon inside an unused room and a very secluded spot inside the building, your mouth shut with his right hand and his other gripping your lower back. Your back pressing against the door of the room, one leg up to his hip as his hand slides down to hold your rear and squeeze it.

Your muffle moans escaping your lips as Leon penetrates your insides, his hips piston to yours as his tip kisses your cervix every thrust he makes that made your legs go weak, his lips in the crook of your neck—nibbling on your flesh as you sense that his movements are taking his anger out.

“That’s it, take all of me.” He mutter, his fingertips digging to your flesh as you moan against his hand. “Gotta keep that mouth shut or else you’ll get both of us in trouble.” He hisses, increasing the speed of his pace that got your eyes rolling back, your gummy walls clenching to his shaft as it penetrates your womb.

Trying your best to minimize your moan, your gasp and small whimper ignites fire inside of Leon. He was pissed at some point, he always wonders why do you keep bothering him like a lost puppy.

He grit his teeth, sucking on to your flesh and biting down—holds you up in the air and humps on you with urgency, his hands grabbing your rear as he got deeper and focuses on making you feel your release, “L-Leon…” you gasp, feeling a warm sensation on your stomach, “m gonna cum.” You whine, he scoffs and planted sloppy kisses on your neck.

Your breath hitches as you gasp, your hand quickly covered your mouth as your moans are growing louder. Leon mutter curses as his hips started to spasm, he could feel you going to milk every drop of him as he reach his release. Your legs and hips jerk, your body jolted as you came to his cock—your puffy cunt milking him as he pulls and slam back in and fucks his orgasm.

“not so annoying now, huh?” he snicker and pulled out, helping you clean as your pussy was well-fucked by an older guy, you were in ecstasy in the thought of older men do it better.

He's grumpy, but he still has a heart to give you aftercare and take care of you since he made you like that. After all, you started to grow on him a little.

The eight month arrived and the contract finally ended, it saddens Leon to know this and watch you leave. Will he ever get to see you again? He thought himself that every night he went to sleep.

Who will greet him when he enters work?

Who will be delighted to have his presence around?

Who would acknowledge him as a person and not as the agent?

Who would bring him coffee and force him to drink that than the flask he drinks every night?

He got attached to you, and he feels like shit. What choice does he have than watch you go? Turn your back and look at him for the last time and say your last goodbye?

Would he ever feel your annoying presence and your lips on his cheeks every time you find him angry and sulking? Probably not, the contract finally ended and that’s that.

“my rides here.” You utter, your tone down as you look over to Leon, you smiled and keep on a bright mood, “try not to miss me so much.” You wink and stood up, “want to walk with me, Leon?” you held out an offering hand as he took it with no hesitation.

From the past few months you were clinging to him, now; he clings to you.

Hands intertwined together as he escorts you outside the building of the agency, the surrounding spacious as the ship revealed its presence—it was invisible so Leon was impressed by the technology it has.

You broke your hand to him and got to the ship, running up quickly to give the files to director Fury, “got the data? Good job, Agent.” The director praises and got inside, you on the other hand—quickly got down again and face Leon as the machine wringing and the wind blowing.

The warm of your hand connects to his cheeks, he melts right under your touch—he felt so… depress to see you go, he feels like every life and color that you pour into him will drain him eventually after you left and get back to his old drinking habits, he’d miss the coffee you’d serve him every morning and the sneaky kisses you plant to his face every time you caught him off guard.

You slowly took your hand and turn your back on him, the others are waiting and watching. As if they’re watching two people part ways that had crossed path once and won’t meet again, that’s just how cruel destiny was, right?

The sun is setting, Leon needs to act fast.

“Hey.” Leon called, he takes a couple of steps as he faces you. You look back at him, a gentle smile was on your face—it beams with the orange setting sun, it was warm and for the first time. Leon didn’t find that annoying.

“Yeah?”

The sound of the harsh wind almost blocks your voices as you answer the agent, the wringing didn’t stop as your ride and your other teams needed you to depart with them.

“Will I…” Leon chokes on his words, embarrassed to say as his eyes softens and feel his chest tightens.

“Will I ever get to see you again?”

You smiled at his question, touched by his words that he wishes to see you again. “You and I will meet again, Leon.” You chuckle.

“Someday.”

With that, you got in with your team—Director Fury guiding you back as the door slowly shut in front of Leon. The ship was now invisible to the naked eye, he knew that you were now gone.

How?

He couldn’t feel your presence anymore.

He was now left alone in the setting sun, the orange hue hitting his face as he looks at the sun itself. It remind reminds him of you, warm and beautiful to watch.

But heartbreaking to see you go and let darkness take place.

Leon wishes that someday, you two will meet again.

He’ll be waiting… in the setting sun.

Hoping that the two of you will crossed paths again.

Someone give this man a hug, a kiss, take his alcohol away (we don't want him drinking away) put him into a blanket burrito and a hot cocoa.

Don't worry, I'm just silly and he'll meet reader again>-<!!

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon resident evil #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #leon x reader #resident evil leon #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil vendetta #vendetta leon #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #↬ɴᴀʀᴄɪssᴀʀɪɴᴀ✿ᴘᴇᴘᴛᴀʟᴋs/ᴀsᴋsდ #love him<33 #silly little goose #marvel crossover #!!!

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ivystoryweaver · 11 months

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With You part 3

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Summary: Jake Lockley has finally met you. What does he think of you, and will he, or Marc, give you any answers?

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Jake Lockley x reader (implied Steven Grant x reader). Gender neutral reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings/notables: Angst, comfort, references to drinking and alcoholism but it doesn’t happen here, sex but the language is not explicit and no gender-specific body parts mentioned, nightmare, brief crying, cursing, assumptions, longing, feeling inadequate, Khonshu is mean here yall, somebody hug marc spector. Let me know if I missed a warning. Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Dividers by saradika

PREVIOUSLY, on “With You”...

Jake could live without Marc and Steven knowing about him. He’d lived that way all this time, but you were something else. He hadn’t wanted to meet you like this. He had screwed up, and now you were only worried about Marc. He was worried too, honestly.

Now you would never want to know him.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Jake decided, by which he was effectively deciding to do nothing. He may be able to eliminate the vilest creatures under night’s shadow, but trying to explain to you that he was the reason your fiancé obliterated his sobriety...

Jake didn’t fear anything. In fact, as the streets of London descended from depraved men to monstrous supernatural threats, he relished his role as Khonshu’s vengeful fist. Someone had to do it, and Jake was suited to the task.

A creature of the night, he savored the quiet, cool leather interior of his car as much as the dingy London air whipping through his white cape. And the more challenging his vicious foes, the more Jake reveled in it. He protected people. That was his sole purpose.

Including Marc and Steven.

So the fact that he somehow missed Marc tossing back a bottle of whiskey and upsetting you in the process, well - if he couldn’t protect you and his alters, then he had no reason to exist.

So, time for bed. He would fade into darkness and you would get back who you really wanted.

Reaching to scoop up each item of clothing he had discarded, with none of this explained aloud to you, he turned to flee.

“Wait,” you pleaded, blocking his pathway out of the bedroom, your hands reaching out to push back gently against the pile in his arms. His gaze fell on yours - open, yet unreadable. Not menacing, but not to be bothered. His eyes didn’t flicker away like Marc’s. He stared you down, waiting.

“Just wait a second, Jake,” you found yourself whispering, a bit transfixed. “Where do you usually sleep?”

Lips parting in anticipation, your heart did some clichéd somersaulting as he tore his eyes from yours and nodded to your bed.

“You sleep with me?” You clarified, dumbfounded.

Dark eyes flickered momentarily down to your mouth. His tongue swiped over the fullness of his bottom lip before dragging it between his teeth.

“I sleep with you.”

The rich timbre of his voice electrified you.

“Only so you can wake up with them.”

Air rushed out of you in a mildly dramatic exhale. What was this man doing to you?

“Please,” you whispered, unsure of what you were even asking him. Mostly, you didn’t want to be without them. You had waited all night, terrified. “Don’t go. I was so worried.”

Eyes narrowing suspiciously, Jake nodded once. He knew what you needed, and it wasn’t him.

Ten minutes later, after what was, for you, an unbearable silence, Jake climbed into bed with you. Having washed up and making his well-fitting ensemble disappear somehow (where did he keep his clothes?), he decided on Steven’s soft pajamas. The sleeves sagged adorably, covering his hands, but Jake’s fingers didn’t fidget like his alter’s.

How many times had he done this? Pretended to be them? And were you okay with it? Was it even really your business? It was his body too.

The lights remained off from before, allowing you the cover of darkness to ease under the blankets, as if acting in a play.

If Marc were with you, he would pull your back against his chest, folding you close until either your body relaxed, or until his lips breathed salacious words on your ear while his hand slipped between your legs. Either that, or he would bury his face in your tummy, the way he had done that morning. That, too, often ended up with him between your legs.

For Steven, it was the crook of your neck, latched on to you like a koala. After years of sleeping poorly, or trying his damndest to stay awake and not “sleepwalk”, nothing soothed him more than your soft skin and reassuring arms. He marvelously discovered that, with you, he had no trouble falling asleep at all. For Steven, the mornings were when he needed you most. The two of you would race to the bathroom, playfully fighting over who would freshen up first before tumbling back into bed, where he would be sure to end up between your legs.

But here, now, Jake was a statue.

You were Marc and Steven’s whole world. Jake knew he had fucked up enough for one week. There was no way he was moving one millimeter in this bed. Hopefully, the warm surge in this heart would settle to the soothing sound of your breathing. That was his balm - you were his anchor. After the cracking of bones and the wailing of night’s creatures deafening his ears - the gentle rise and fall of your chest in the night was his lullaby.

But he didn’t dare touch you. You weren’t his.

Sometimes you attached yourself to him the night, or maybe he only dreamed that you did. He was never him when sleep ended.

Feeling the tension rolling off you, the urge to somehow alleviate your worries taunted him. But he was certain he didn’t even possess the ability to soothe, only to punish.

So he said nothing. He did nothing. He waited for sleep.

“Jake...” As you turned to him, your sweet voice crawled up his neck, intoxicating him utterly. “Would it be okay if I held your hand?”

The memory of your smooth skin was seared into his memory from the featherlight kiss he’d given your knuckles. He didn’t even hesitate to grasp for you in the dark, tangling his fingers with yours.

Pressing your face to the soft fabric covering his shoulder, you, undeniably realistic you, accepted this real moment. You wanted answers. You wanted a lot of things. He gave you his hand. You took what was here, now.

“I’m glad to know you, Jake,” you whispered, your heavy eyes sliding closed, despite everything. Squeezing his fingers, and swiping your thumb softly along his, you added, “I hope you’ll come back to me soon.”

You woke up to a mess of chocolate curls buried in your stomach.

Marc.

Your sweet, tormented angel.

There was a slight chance it wasn’t Marc, but the familiar whimpers of a nightmare gave him away even more than tummy cuddles.

“Shhh,” you soothed, raking your fingernails through his messy waves. “I’ve got you.”

He squeezed you, murmuring, “No,” brokenly before whimpering again. His nightmares weren’t flailing arms and shouts like in films. They were this: soft, pleading mumbles and anguished pleas.

With a sudden change in his breath, he was awake, eyes darting wildly as he climbed his way up your body, hands checking you frantically.

“Right here, baby,” you murmured, eyes soft and full of love. He looked so broken, you wanted to cry, while desire simultaneously ripped up your spine. Whatever this man of yours needed, you were going to give him, likely, to your great pleasure and benefit. Win-win.

“You’re here,” he repeated, gathering you in his strong arms as the weight of his body crushed you in the most delicious way. “I dreamed you were gone. You left, or...or someone took you away from me.”

“Never,” you uttered with conviction, pressing your lips to the corner of his jaw, opening your mouth to breathe hotly before kissing a trail to his ear. “I’ll never let that happen. I’ll burn down the whole world first.”

A choked sob erupted from his chest as he whispered your name. Fusing his lips with yours, his fingers gripped your jaw desperately as if he feared you would quite literally slip through them.

Responding to the press of his body like a partner in a well-rehearsed dance, your legs fell open, ready to feel the heat of him consuming you. His mouth hadn’t left yours, but his thick fingers dragged (his) t-shirt up your torso and over your head.

Only then, when your lips parted, did his dark, desperate gaze lock onto yours. “Need you,” he groaned, his voice tinged with the slight beg you associated with Steven.

Surging forward, you met his furious kiss with equal hunger, pushing under his soft pajamas, pulling, dragging until your naked limbs were tangled, pressing and pulling in desperate passion.

“You’re mine,” he growled, deep inside you, claiming you, as if you had any doubt or desire to be apart from him. “He can’t h-have you. I won’t let him.”

You were oddly turned on by the idea that maybe he sounded jealous of Jake, who had merely held your hand in the dark.

He didn’t mean Jake.

In fact, he wasn’t even aware you’d held an audience with his mysterious alter.

No, he meant the twisted, deceitful, formidable Egyptian god of the moon, to whom he remained enslaved. The one who took you away in his dream.

The things Marc was doing to your body - you could barely think straight. Your back arched in pleasure, your fingers clawing at the sculpted muscles of his back, desperate to somehow bring him even closer to you.

“I’m yours,” you gasped, realizing with the deep moan that followed, that you didn’t really have control over your voice at this point.

“Mine,” he repeated, as you drowned in him, and he in you.

After a long, hot shower together, filled with salacious kisses and some very naughty handiwork, the two of you finally made it to the kitchen. Just like in bed, you danced around one another with practiced ease, as if perfectly executing the blocking of a play. Your hand reached for the coffee grounds, while he readied the filter. He found the bread while you produced his favorite jam.

Shoulders rubbed and soft smiles were exchanged, eyes longingly dancing, locking and flittering away to the tasks at hand.

“Thank you,” he finally said, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, “for this morning.”

You almost teased him for thanking you for what you two did quite regularly in bed, but you knew what he meant. Whatever anchor he’d needed this morning, you were it.

Still, you were a cheeky one, as Steven frequently reminded you... “I should be thanking you, baby,” you innocently purred. “That thing you did...when you turned me over, holy shit--”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed out, motioning for you to get back to breakfast, as if he would ever actually order you about. “You and your dirty mind, I swear to god.”

You laughed out delightedly. “That’s rich, Mr. Spector.”

One of his dark eyebrows shot up. “Call me ‘Mr. Spector’ again and I’ll take you right back in there,” he playfully warned.

Tempting.

The toast popped up to interrupt the two of you, giving Marc’s thoughts just enough time to drift back to much more serious matters. He wanted to be with you all day today. He knew Steven had class at uni and you had work - he didn’t care. He needed you to know things.

“Hey, um...” he started, before you could make another quip about Mr. Spector or the bedroom, “I...I meant to tell you...” reaching up to rub the back of his neck, he swallowed nervously. “I--there’s another bottle. In the flat.”

Bracing his hands on the countertop, his head dropped. It was hard to look at you when he thought he might disappoint you. “I wasn’t trying to hide it, I just...that night, I...”

Reaching over, you laid your hand over his, there on the counter’s edge. “Thank you for letting me know. Do you want to tell me where it is?”

His eyes darted over to yours and he swallowed hard. “The low shelf, down by the edge of that old table I haven’t fixed yet.”

Ah yes, the ‘don’t throw it out, I can fix it’ project that was cluttering your living room. Steven collected books; Marc collected abandoned, broken things...

“Hm,” you hummed thoughtfully, “Steven’s reading chair is right there. He’s going to figure this out, you know.”

“I know,” Marc quickly responded. “I think I wanted him to. Or you. I don’t know...” He didn’t wait for any sympathy. There was too much to tell you before he completely train wrecked his entire life.

“Something happened,” he pressed on, determined. Then he told you. Head bowed, hands gripping the counter, he explained.

You remained completely still at first, but you noticed that the more you acted normal, the easier it was for him to talk. So you finished the coffee, slathered the toast with jam, and walked everything to the tiny table at the kitchen’s edge, where the two of you loved to share your favorite meal almost every single day.

He had fronted a few days ago. It was dark, cold. He was outside, in an unlit, ominously quiet alley. He didn’t know where he was. Steven wasn’t there with him. He reached for his phone and shook with horror at the white bandage-looking material wrapped around his hands. Realizing his face was covered with a mask, he started to panic when the fabric quickly receded, leaving him gasping.

His body was covered in Moon Knight’s mummified wrap.

“No, no, no, no,” he cried, forgetting, for a moment, that he could simply will the suit away, and clawing at the material instead.

Then he heard it. Him.

“Marc Spector,” the booming voice of Khonshu splintered through his mind, wracking his body with terror.

“No, NO,” Marc shouted, climbing to his feet and pressing his palms into his forehead. “You’re gone. I don’t belong to you anymore!”

He ran, clinging to control of the body, determined not to allow Khonshu anywhere near Steven. Or you.

The old god’s skeletal form appeared on various rooftops, following and taunting Marc, his voice eerie and all consuming, as if the bird were nearly shouting into his ear.

“Run away if you can. This body doesn’t belong to you,” the voice taunted.

“Leave me alone!” Marc shouted, but it came out as more of a whimper, like trying to scream for help in a dream. “We had a deal!” He halted, banging his fists against his head as if it would make the ancient being simply evaporate.

But the spiteful deity scoffed, turning his bony back as if done with the conversation. Turning his menacing beak back toward the puny one in control of his avatar, he replied, “Lockley is mine, and so are you.”

Then he vanished.

Just the relief of the god disappearing urged Marc’s legs forward, stumbling through angry tears until he reached your home. You were at work. He paced the flat, tugging his hands through his hair, desperate to keep Steven in the dark.

“It can’t be,” he gasped, over and over again, trying to convince himself. “We’re free. We made a deal. We’re free.” This overwhelm would normally bring Steven to the front, but Marc held on, pacing himself to exhaustion. He was asleep on the couch by the time you came home.

You woke up to Steven. And while you worked your next shift, he bought the whiskey.

He waited another day to drink it.

“I thought maybe...I wondered if I had completely lost my mind,” he uttered, finishing his story, now seated at the kitchen table.

Easing off your chair, you knelt in front of your fiancé, setting your palms gently on his thighs.

“Don’t say that.”

“No, I mean really,” he went on, his hands covering your own, grasping at your fingers. “I thought...what if all this time, Khonshu was in my head? Like...part of me.”

“Like another alter?” you questioned, peering up at him.

“Maybe. I started wondering about all of this Moon Knight bullshit--if it even really happened. And, now there’s this Lockley...” Trailing off he sighed, defeated.

Okay, progress was happening. Might as well get it all out in the open.

“I met him, you know,” you carefully admitted, smoothing your thumb over his as you waited for his reaction. “Lockley.”

“Shit,” he rasped, gripping your hands desperately. “He was here, with you? What did he say?”

“Not much,” you admitted. “His name is Jake. Jake Lockley. He was here last night.”

“Here in the flat?”

“Yes. Late last night. He came in through the bedroom window like Spider-Man or something. We talked for a minute, he told me his name and then we went to bed. I didn’t really find out that much about him.”

Releasing your fingers, Marc sat up straight in his kitchen chair, his eyes darkening possessively. “He went to bed with you?”

Hm. You could have worded that better. “Marc, I--”

“Did he touch you?” His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck straining as his dark eyes burned turbulently.

“It wasn’t like that,” you protested, quickly climbing up off the ground to stand in front of him. Caressing his face tenderly, you shook your head. “I wanted to talk to him - to see what the hell is going on. He seemed worried about you drinking.”

“You talked to him about that?” Marc pushed off his chair then, pacing across the kitchen and back. “I haven’t even talked to him yet.”

Fair enough.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, it just came out,” you confessed, giving him a little space, while pushing down your urge to grab him. “Jake was about to leave, and I wanted some answers. I wanted you all here with me. He came home so late, Marc, and your phone was dead. I was so fucking scared...”

Your breath hitched as tears clouded your eyes. “You’ve been so upset, and the drinking... Steven doesn’t have any idea what’s going on and then this Jake uses the damn window in the middle of the night and I thought he was going to leave, and go back out in the night, with no phone. I wanted you here, Marc, so...so I asked him to stay. I asked him if he knew what was going on, or why you had been drinking--”

“Okay, baby, okay,” he conceded, reaching for your shoulders to bring you close. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”

The two of you held one another in the middle of your drafty little kitchen, the shared answers between you only raising more questions.

“I think you should talk to Steven,” you suggested gently, “if you feel ready.”

Resting his forehead against yours, he rubbed your back soothingly. “Yeah. And maybe...maybe Jake too.”

tags requested @rivalriotrenegade @wordacadabra

#with you fic #moon knight fic #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fanfic #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x you #jake lockley x you #marc spector x gn!reader #jake lockley x gn!reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #moon knight #mcu #oscar isaac fic #read the warnings

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sweaterweatherever · 1 year

Text

Sweet and Sour (Tyler Galpin x Reader )

Pairing: Tyler Galpin x AFAB reader

Warnings: Smut. AGED UP CHARACTERS. Thigh riding, choking, hair pulling and slapping. Unprotected vaginal sex. No daddy kink here because I’m unable to write it. I tried. I hope you like it anyways. Yeti reader. Post Hyde Tyler.

A/N: Poor Tyler, was he a catholic? He definitely gave me the Christian guilt. Yes. I hate Inglourious Basterds with all my heart, but I will respect the awful spelling the guy chose.

Requested: Yes. I dedicate this fic to the person who requested it, but also to the anon who called me a monster fucker. I can get much worse, babe. Don’t tempt me.

The first time you walked into the Weathervane, Tyler was struck. The heat of the day made it so the café was having a slow day, even slower than usual since the whole town found out he was the Hyde. That had almost gotten him fired, but the mayor had forced his employer to keep him, citing that as a newly revealed outcast, it could be grounds for a discrimination scandal. Tyler didn’t care. The pay was good enough to compensate the lack of tips, and since it was the only café around here, it got plenty of outcast traffic. The owner was happy. His father was happy. The mayor was happy. He was…well, at least not in jail.

You came in wearing a soft, pastel colored dress, with a white sweater hanging from where you had it tied to your purse’s strap.

“Hi.” You say to him, all bright eyes and a smile. Immediately he knows you can’t be a local because if you knew, you wouldn’t be being so nice. “Do you guys serve ice tea?”

“Yes. We have plain, lemon infused and peach infused. Which one would you like?” Tyler takes out a plastic cup, already scribbling on it.

“Lemon.” You started taking out your card to pay, and Tyler used the brief respite to look you up and down once more. You were the prettiest girl he had ever seen, with your white heart shaped sunglasses perched on your hair, adorable sundress and glossy pink lip gloss. Total opposite of one Wednesday Addams. And maybe he was fucked up, he had no clear type or worse, he was looking into opposites of her. But you were pretty and smiling at him like he was a human being. Tyler was a sucker for manners.

“Okay, give me your name.” He asked, eyeing your purse. It was white, with a soft coral lining on the inside. Tyler could see your phone peeking out of it, wrapped in a light pink phone case. It made him smile.

“Y/N” Tyler scribbled it down, and you gave him a bright smile.

“You are new to town?”

“Yeah, my parents and I were checking out the place. They are going to enroll me at Nevermore, so they are meeting the principal. You look my age…” You cocked your head to the side, looking at him from beneath your eyelashes. “You go there?”

“I will be going there next semester, yeah.” Tyler grimaced. He should probably warn you, now, before someone else does. It would not take too long when they saw you, all pretty and innocent and consorting with the likes of him. “Look, if you want to make friends there… Avoid me. Please.”

“Not a Nevermore fan?” You asked, sitting at the counter and watching him pour your drink.

“More like Nevermore is not a fan of me.” He passes you the cup, and you take out a book of your purse and walk silently to a table. If he wanted his space, who were you to deny him? However, his warning intrigues you, and you keep stealing glances at him when you think he isn’t looking. You like the way his face dimples when he smiles and his eyes seem so genuine, you can’t help but find him attractive.

Tyler notices you looking at him, thinking you are being so sly. This attention is nice, and you are adorable, so he decides to enjoy it while it lasts. You don’t see each other again, not until the semester starts, and he is dropped off by his father in a school full of people who hate his guts. Which, honestly? Not that impressive for a school of outcasts. It seems you lose it once and go on a murdering spree, and suddenly, everyone is terrified. Come on! Their teacher was the one that triggered him in the first place!

By then, you had already heard all about how he killed a bunch of normies and almost maimed to death another kid, plus the charges of attempted murder against half the school. How he got away with everything, claiming it was all Thornhill, and drugs, and a bunch of legalese the public defender spun to get him out of jail, where he belongs. Yet, for some reason, you decide to sit next to him in your first class, looking prim and proper in your new uniform. Tyler doesn’t say anything. He warned you once, he is not about to do it again. He is a selfish creature, he will enjoy it while it lasts. The company is very pleasant, in comparison to his fabulous new roommate, who almost pissed his pants when he saw him.

“So.” You say, eyes crinkling. “What do you like to do for fun, apart from murdering people?” You ask, and he can’t help but snort. Tyler hasn’t laughed, truly laughed, since what? Six months ago? He isn’t really sure, but your attitude is refreshing. Nobody has dared to joke about it, and maybe it is because you weren’t here back then, but it’s nice not to be looked at like he is a monster. Even if some days he is not sure that he regrets it.

“I read, although not as much as you do.” Tyler answers, possibly betraying too much of his feelings by admitting he has been watching you. “I like to jog. And before, I used to play football…” His voice drops a little then, and you can’t help but smile at him.

“Wanna see something cool?” You ask him, and blow him a kiss. He is confused at first, but his eyes open wide when your breath turns into ice crystals, freezing in the air. “You weren’t the only presumed extinct, you know. Don’t feel so special.”

Knowing what you are makes everything about you have sense for Tyler. You are something special, something precious. A miracle kid, who with no doubt was sheltered and treasured. You are innocent and naive, and the idea of being the one to corrupt that innocence, claim the beautiful prize for himself, attracts the Hyde. Monsters like shiny things too. The urge to own, the urge to make his, is almost unbearable. And the more human side of him wonders what it would be like to get to hold your hand and maybe kiss you, showing you the same tenderness you had shown him.

He panics. Really. The idea of corrupting your innocence both excites him and fills him with dread. And so, Tyler buries his feelings deep and pretends everything is fine. He’ll just… be your friend. There is no harm in that, after all.

Turns out he was mistaken. So mistaken it is funny, actually. You start spending so much time together, everyone refers to you two like Y/N-and-Tyler, in the same breath. His reputation improves because how bad can Tyler really be if he hangs with you all the time, poster child for the discriminated outcasts? Besides, you are so sweet, so nice, but you wouldn’t stand for anything morally wrong. Your free periods are spent on the quad, legs lazily tangling together as you go over some homework or some book you are reading, explained with animated gestures. The weekends are spent at the Weathervane, sitting in a booth and doing the same thing, when you can’t get away with sneaking into each other’s room.

Tyler likes you. Like, as in, more than friends. There is something about you that reminds him of his life before, when he was one of Jericho’s golden boys, but without all the violence from back then. With you, he gets to be charming, cheesy, pulling blushes out of you left and right with clever words and soft touches. But as much as he tries to pretend the violence isn’t there, the Hyde still lurks beneath his act. He can’t help but wonder how dark the blush would be if he just grabbed you and kissed you, dragging his teeth along your neck, biting at your nape. How it would feel to have your hands on his cock, how flustered you would get if he taught you exactly how to please him. These ideas, they make him feel guilty every time you smile at him, yet Tyler can’t help but think about it. No amount of cold showers help.

The advantages of putting the fear of god on his roommate is that more often than not, he gets the room to himself. That means, you two can hang out there without being disturbed. Tyler is great at being a host, setting up everything perfectly. He tries not to think about how all this planning and organizing is something he used to do for the girls he dated, not for his friends. All the mental torture it’s worth it, when he sees how you kick off your shoes and climb on his bed, nestling yourself there and looking at the fairy lights that slightly illuminate the room.

“This is cozy.” You say, covering yourself with one of the throw blankets he has strategically placed there. “What are we watching? It was your pick this week.”

“The Ring.” Tyler smiles a little when you shudder.

“You know I don’t like horror!” You complain, lips dropping into a pretty pout. It’s convincing, but Tyler likes horror not because he is into the movies, it’s more because he likes the way you cling to him. Sue him. If that’s all he can get, he will have it. Tyler has never been into the business of lying to himself.

“And you know I don’t like Tarantino, and yet you forced me last week to watch Inglourious Basterds.”

“Oh come on, did you see Mélanie Laurent act? She is gorgeous and a badass. You can’t tell me you didn’t end up with a crush on her.”

“She has other movies.” Tyler states, getting into bed next to you after pressing play on his laptop.

“Yeah, nice try. Name one, that’s not Now You See Me.”

“Oxygène.” He answers with a winning smile. Tyler had done his homework. He liked the way your smile brightened when you realized he actually listened to you, and cared about your interests. “Critically acclaimed, or so I have been told.”

“Fancy, even in the original French!” You pulled him closer, and he went without protesting. You tugged at his arm until he wrapped it around you, and sighed happily when you were finally able to use him as a pillow.

As the movie went by, Tyler started carding his fingers through your hair, lightly massaging your head when you flinched at some scenes. Forty-five minutes in or so, you decided you weren’t able to take it anymore, and so, turned down to lay on your stomach, pressing your face against his chest.

“Hey, it’s not so bad.” He grabbed a little of your hair, gently making you tilt your head upwards and trying not to think how it would feel to really tug at your hair and force you to expose your throat.

Your breath caught.

“Don’t freak out.” You said, closing your eyes to avoid seeing his reaction. “But I might want to kiss you.”

“Oh.” Tyler let go of your hair like it burned him. The idea of kissing you was a delicious one, but it scared him too. He didn’t want to ruin your innocence. As for you, you knew Tyler wanted to kiss you too, you could tell by the way he kept sneaking glances at your lips. That had been the reason you had spoken out. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?” You open your eyes then, staring at him like a petulant child. You would respect his decision if he said he wasn’t into you, but you don’t believe that’s the reason behind it.

“Because you have your whole life in front of you. I would drag you down.” Tyler states, clenching his jaw. It pains him to say it, he wants you so badly, but he wants you to have a shot at happiness too.

“Are you like forty or something? Last time I checked, you had your whole life too.” You roll your eyes a little.

“I would taint you. You are pure, and good and I… I am a monster. I don’t think you get it.” Tyler says, eyes glinting oddly. The idea of innocence… Is he into it? Oh, that was interesting. You make a mental note to test it out after, choosing to let out a snort.

“I’m not as pure as you would think. I’m not innocent, either.” You state, looking him right in the eyes.

“You don’t get it. I have killed people, Y/N.” Tyler strokes your hair once more, trying to soothe the sting of rejection. This conversation is getting to him. Tyler’s eyes are downcast, much the same way they are every time he asks if you are sure you want to keep being friends, if you aren’t disgusted. “Dead. In gorish, gruesome ways.”

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh because this is too a recurring argument.

“Do you?” Tyler’s voice trembles.

“Ty, I know you.”

“You like this sanitized version of me, this boy who brings you flowers and makes you laugh, all gentle hands, but that’s not…” His tone gets angrier, this time. You aren’t too sure what you should say to soothe his fears. Sure, he went a little crazy back then, even arguing he liked murdering people. You know he is scared that might be the truth about him, but for someone who believes himself to be such a dangerous, uncontrolled murdered, there has been a pointed absence of murders.

“Not you?” You decide not to voice your thoughts, too afraid it would end up turning this conversation into a full-blown fight. Tyler frowns.

“It is not me. You might like this version, but as much as I am this, the Hyde is who I am too. And, the things it wants to do to you…” He hides his face between his hands, and your hands go immediately to pull at it.

“Kill me? Permanently maim me?” You ask, pulling at his wrists and looking earnestly into his eyes. You aren’t scared. Even that might be fixable, given enough time.

“No. Own you. “ That is muttered under his breath, as if he is afraid he is going to scare you away. Instead, you smile.

“Oh, Tyler, you should be more worried about the things I want you to do to me.” And with that, you lifted yourself just enough so you could kiss him. Tyler was a good kisser, unsurprisingly. He kissed hungrily, needy, with many more teeth and tongue than any other first kiss you had ever had. It was almost as if he wanted to devour you. It should scare you, you knew it, but it only made him more attractive. Tyler encouraged you to lay on top of him, sliding a knee between yours, so you didn’t have to support your weight and strain to kiss him.

“We need to talk about this.” He said, pulling away. You chased his mouth, pressing another kiss there. Tyler pulled away again, with a fond smile dancing on his lips. “Hey.”

“Mmmmm.” You answered, more focused on the way his mouth moved, flashing pearly whites, instead of the words he was saying. You kissed the corner of his smile, feeling him tense.

“We need, like, safe words and stuff.” Tyler tried to interject, and you kissed him again, this time on the lips. When you pulled apart again, he seemed dazed. “Safe words.” He repeated, less sure of himself.

"Mmmmm. Mine's whale. Now, you either choke me or slap me, but you have to do something.” And maybe you were being too cheeky, but you needed him to fuck you like yesterday. In a surprising move from someone who seemed to be so hesitant to join the program, Tyler flipped you on the bed, ending up with you laying beneath him, thigh firmly pressed against your core.

“The things I want to do to you…” Tyler pulled at your hair, forcing you to expose your neck. The roots of your hair tingle, white-hot pain at your scalp. You don’t complain, curious about his next move. He goes straight for the kill, dragging pointy canines down your pulse point. The idea of those teeth, better suited to puncture skin, rip it apart, sliding down your vulnerable throat gets you horrifyingly wet.

“Do them, then. Or are you all talk?” You smirk, slowly, dangerously. You want to rile him up. Tyler is sweet, but you bet if he lets go, it would be the best sex of your life.

“You are such a brat.” His hand goes to your neck, pressing on your windpipe just enough to take your breath, but not enough you are in any actual danger. You don’t fight him. Tyler finds it cute, the way your pulse flutters under his fingers like a scared bunny, eyes open like you have just seen a miracle. “Why do you like danger so much?”

You just look at him. You aren’t sure what to tell him.

“Answer me, bunny. Or we stop.” Tyler’s hand leaves your throat and goes to grab your jaw harshly. Your lips end puckering up, at the way he is holding you, pressing your cheeks together. He is genuinely curious about it. You seem normal. You have never gone on a murder spree like him, you don’t have a monster sharing your body. But whatever the reason is, you aren’t divulging it now.

“I don’t know.” You say, grabbing at his wrist and placing his hand again on your throat. Tyler decides to drop the theme. He is much more interested in the way your whole body trembles at the feel of his hand on your throat.

“Come on, bunny. Rub yourself on my thigh.” He orders. You stare. Then, testing the waters, always testing, he slaps your cheek lightly. It’s what you asked for, but you didn’t think he would actually go through it. You give a delighted smile, and Tyler can’t help but smile back. You must look like fools. Two lovesick, crazy, fools. “Come on, do as I say.” And because you are practically dripping already, with one of his hands holding your throat, you do as he says, slowly rolling your hips against him. “Good girl.”

Tyler’s grip gets stronger, making your pulse jump. You make a pitiful sound, and that prompts him to push your hair away from your face.

“Come on, Tyler, clothes off.” You plead. You were aroused already, and the harsh denim of his jeans rubbing against yours is making you closer to orgasm than you would like. Tyler eyes you curiously, but he pulls back and struggles to take off your pants and panties in one go. You help him, lifting your hips. The cold air hits your pussy, and you feel a little ashamed at how wet you are from some kisses and rubbing. You look at Tyler, who has already gone back to his previous position. Does he want you to…?

Apparently, your thought process is too slow because he slaps you again. This time, it stings and you whimper.

“Come on. You got what you wanted. Do as I said.” Tyler calmly says. “Don’t tell me you are so dumb from riding my thigh fully clothed.”

You desperately want to please him, but the idea of rubbing your naked pussy against denims makes you hesitate. When you finally do as he wants, you can help but mewl, overwhelmed with the feeling. The material is rough against your clit, scratching at it in a way that’s almost painful. It’s like an itch you are desperate to scratch. Yet, you try to be careful, mindful that you are so wet you are practically dripping over Tyler’s leg.

“You know I can smell other people's emotions, right?” He asks, hand leaving your throat, just so he can come closer. Tyler makes a show of sniffing at your neck, mouth pursing in distaste. You surely shouldn't find it as hot as you do. “Doubt doesn’t smell as nicely as arousal, bunny.”

“But… your pants…”

“Make a mess, darling. Come on.” At that, you let out a tiny moan, and decide to do as Tyler says, pressing your pussy fully against his thigh. “Look at you, all pretty, getting my pants all dirty.”

Tyler doesn’t say it, but this is like a wet dream come to life for him. You are the perfect mix of innocence and sensuality, daring but shy, bold but still wanting him to show you the ropes. Maybe that’s why he gives in so easily, pulling himself out of his pants and rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance.

“Do you want me to fuck you, bunny?” He wants to hear you say it, but he also wants your explicit consent. It’s such a Tyler gesture, it almost makes you laugh.

“Fuck me, Tyler. Please.” You look at him shyly, playing it up. You can tell he likes it because he slowly presses inside, and you give a slight moan at the stretch. The roll of your hips is calculatedly unsure. Tyler doesn’t move, looking at you with a tiny smirk. “Ty, please. Ah…. I… Tyler.” You beg, and this time it’s not for show.

Tyler doesn’t pull out, choosing instead to grind his hips against yours, until you give a punched out moan and your body tenses at one particular roll. He has been cataloging your reactions, you realize. Tyler pulls out, just to thrust back in and hit that same spot time and time again, with scary accuracy.

He enjoys the way you gasp and arch under him, pressing deeper, harder. When you start to grab desperately at his shoulders, clawing at them, legs tensing around his waist, he brings down his hand on your throat, once again. He squeezes, hard enough to startle you and bring tears to your eyes. “Come on, bunny.” He encourages you. “Make a mess.” And so, you do. The face you make when you come has to be one of his favorite sights in the whole world. It’s enough to make him come too, thrusting into you and making you sob harder from over stimulation. You push at him weakly, and he takes another look at your face.

Mascara is running down your cheeks, lip gloss messy around your mouth. You don’t look innocent anymore, you look debauched. The Hyde grumbles happily, and Tyler knows. He is never, ever letting you go.

#wednesday netflix #my writing #wednesday 2022 #tyler galpin x reader #tyler galpin x y/n #tyler galpin x you #tyler galpin imagine #tyler galpin smut #tyler galpin #tyler galpin fluff

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lunarbuck · 11 months

Text

In Our Element (College!Stucky x f!reader)

pairing: college!stucky x f!reader (any race)

wc: 3.4k

summary: A camping trip with your friends leads to more than you bargained for

warnings: friends to lovers, oral (f and m receiving), smut (p in v, p in a), threesome, polyamory, MMF relationship

a/n: thank you @flordeamatista for hyping this fic up and for daydreaming with me <3 i hope you guys enjoy!!

my masterlist

You practically moan as you toss your backpack to the ground at the top of the bluff. Bucky laughs, following your lead. The camping trip was Steve’s idea, so of course, he didn’t have any trouble with the hike up the bluff or with the heavy backpack. He practically skipped the whole way here.

He gives you a bright smile as he unclips the tent from the bottom of his pack. “You two gonna help me or am I on my own here?” He asks, spreading out the tarp. Bucky rolls his eyes but helps out his friend.

In an effort to be somewhat helpful, you decide to start gathering wood for the fire. Even though your legs feel noodly and it’s way hotter than you thought it would be, you’re still happy to be here. The three of you will start your 4th and final year of college in just a few weeks; it feels surreal.

You’ve known Steve and Bucky since freshman year and it’s crazy to think that at the end of this school year, the three of you won’t necessarily be in the same place anymore. Both the boys will probably get shipped out after graduation and you haven’t quite decided what’s next for you.

It’s not very easy to force yourself to stop thinking about it, but when you haul back your arm full of firewood and see Bucky and Steve bickering about the tent, it all seems to fade away. You dump the wood and dig out a fire pit, trying to remember your firemaking skills from girl scouts.

It takes you a few tries and way more matches than Troupe Leader Nicols would have approved of, but eventually, you have a fire. The boys manage to get the tent up without killing each other, and this place is starting to come together.

“Look at you go, angel.” Bucky starts pulling the food out of his pack, laying it out so he can start cooking. Even though you’ve known him for three years, you haven’t quite gotten used to how tall Bucky is. Steve too, honestly. They’re both built like goddamned brick walls and even when Bucky is sitting beside you, he isn’t even eye level.

Now you won’t beat around the bush. Bucky is incredibly easy on the eyes. Especially with the firelight flickering in his deep blue eyes. His brown hair is swept up off his forehead in a carelessly sexy way that makes you want to scream, but you keep it contained. It’s never been like that between the two of you. He’s always kept his conquests out of your friendship, opting to give you bare-bone details about his casual hookups.

It’s the same with Steve. You watch him as he walks toward the fire, a soft smile on his lips. He’s beautiful, you’ve thought so since the moment you laid eyes on him. He’s always watching out for you, making sure you’re doing okay, checking in. He makes butterflies burst in your heart every time he comes around.

“Thanks for doing this,” Steve says, sitting beside you. Bucky arranges the little tin foil packets on the hot stones, a pleasant smile on his face. “I’m happy the three of us could finally get out here. We’ve been wanting to show you this place for a while.”

Your heart warms at his words. Steve and Bucky are your best friends, they’ve been there for you through all the ups and down college has thrown at you. You’re not sure you would’ve survived without them. Part of you feels guilty for developing feelings for them, for the fact that you want more when they’ve already given you everything.

“I’m glad you invited me,” you reply, nudging Steve with your shoulder. “This is perfect.” The glow from the fire softens his usual sharp, classically charming features, and you feel yourself melt at the sight of them. Behind him, the sun is setting, painting the sky with bright oranges and pinks, and everything feels so… right.

Once the food is warmed up, Bucky passes everything out and you all dig in. Conversation flows easily between the three of you, reminiscing and laughing about the past, and before you know it, the stars are shining in the sky.

“It’s so clear up here,” Bucky mumbles, tilting his chin to stare at the constellations. “Can never see this many stars in the city.” You follow his line of sight and find his eyes tracing the outline of Hercules.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many,” you whisper. “It’s beautiful.” Bucky turns, grinning down at you. Suddenly, it feels like there’s no air. The way he’s looking at you sends shivers down your spine.

“You’re beautiful, angel.” Your lips part on a gasp, mind spinning.

“Bucky.” You can barely hear your voice when you speak. He just smirks and flicks his eyes behind you to where Steve is watching silently. You quickly turn to him, heat flooding your body.

“S’mores?” He asks, not appearing fazed by the moment between you and Bucky. You watch him arrange the s’mores materials and hand out sticks to roast marshmallows as if nothing happened.

“Steve, I–” He just smiles and shakes his head a little as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. You shake it off, taking the stick from Steve and roasting a marshmallow. You stare at the flames, feeling off-kilter from the heated moment with Bucky. You don’t want to hurt Steve, you care so much about him. You couldn’t ever pick between the two of them, your feelings equally strong for both men. You don’t want him to feel like you’ve chosen Bucky over him.

Before your marshmallow has a chance to light on fire, you pull it away from the flames and make your s’more. The chocolate melts in your mouth and you grin; s’mores could probably solve all your problems.

You feel fingers turning your chin and suddenly you’re back face-to-face with Bucky. “You’ve got a little somethin’ here, angel,” he whispers. His thumb gently rubs against the corner of your mouth as he slowly leans toward you. When he’s just inches away, his lips tip up into his signature smirk, before closing the distance and pressing a kiss to your lips. He’s kissing you softly, but there’s so much passion in it. Bucky’s hand cups your face while his metal fingers rest on your waist, holding you steady.

You lean into his kiss, head buzzing. You’ve wanted this for years, since the first time you met him, and now it’s happening. But you can’t forget that Steve is beside you, watching. Watching his best friend kiss you right in front of him. That’s what makes you pull away.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” Bucky says, thumb tracing over your lips.

“Language.” Steve’s scolding tone is also a teasing one, and you turn to find him watching you and Bucky with hooded eyes. He reaches out, placing a hand on your leg. His palm is warm against your skin but you still shiver at that contact.

“Stevie,” you whisper. He nods, shifting closer until he can lean his forehead against yours.

“You’re beautiful, angel.” When he kisses you, he tastes sweet like the s’more and smells smokey from the fire. His hand rests on your hip opposite from where Bucky’s is, and the feeling of both of them touching you at the same time sends you spinning. Never, in any of the scenarios you’d thought up did they both want you, let alone at the same time. Sure, you’ve fantasized about it, dreamed about it, but you didn’t think it’d ever happen.

Bucky’s hands find your shoulders, grazing your neck. You feel him lean down and press his lips to the sensitive spot beneath your jaw and you groan into Steve’s kiss. Heat builds between the three of you, a sense of urgency you’ve never felt before.

“You’re perfect,” Bucky says into your skin, sucking gentle marks in places that make you see stars. “Our perfect little angel.” Steve pulls away, placing a gentle kiss on your nose, and you look between the two men, stunned.

“I never thought…” your voice fades as you lose yourself in both of them.

“Never thought what?” Steve prompts, trailing across your face.

“Never thought that you two would feel this way for me.” Bucky chuckles, still pouring his attention into your neck.

“We’ve never met a girl like you, angel,” Bucky tells you, and you truly believe it. “You’ve been ours since you met us, we’ve just been waiting for you to realize it.” Your heart slams in your chest so hard you swear it’s going to burst right out.

“How do you feel?” Steve asks, holding your face in his big, warm hands. “Is this okay?” You nod quickly, earning you a laugh from both men.

“I feel like I’m floating,” you reply. Four hands move over your body, feeling every inch of you. Two sets of lips kiss you, taste you, and unravel you. Bucky adjusts you so you’re able to lean back against him and Steve moves with you, not letting you go for even a moment. Sandwiched between the two mountain-like men, you’ve never felt safer, never felt better.

When they pull away, both men help you stand. You have to crane your neck to keep eye contact, but it’s worth it to see them both smiling happily at you.

“Angel,” Bucky says, turning your head with two fingers. You love that nickname. You don’t remember where it came from, you used to roll your eyes at it, but you’ve always loved it. Especially when Bucky says it like that. “We can stop if you want to, we don’t want you to feel pressure to do anything you don’t want to. Okay?”

“What if I want it all?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Then we’ll give it to you,” Steve answers. He guides you toward him, hooking his fingers in the hem of your shirt before tugging it off you. You shiver in the night air, but Bucky is quick to warm you up, his lips finding your shoulder.

Steve works your shorts off next, helping you step out of them. In just your panties and bra, you should feel exposed, but you don’t. Steve and Bucky make you feel beautiful, they make you feel strong. Steve admires you for a moment, bright blue eyes trailing over your body appreciatively. Then, he turns you to face Bucky.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this, angel,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing you. His metal fingers are cold against your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Behind you, Steve steps in close, tracing his fingers along your back. The shapes he draws are followed by his lips. It takes you a moment, but you realize he’s drawing the constellations on your back, kissing the stars into your skin.

Both of the men kneel and Steve unclasps your bra. Bucky instantly wraps his lips around one of your nipples, taking your other breast into his hand. Steve watches from over your shoulder, breathing heavily as he takes in the sight of Bucky worshiping you. His hands trace down your torso, finding the waistband of your panties and dragging them down your legs. You gasp, one hand burying itself in Bucky’s hair, the other reaching back to hold onto Steve.

Steve’s fingers slide up your legs before his right hand reaches the crux of your thighs. His other hand anchors in Bucky’s hair, tugging it lightly. You’re desperate for him; for them, and you know he can feel it. His fingers slide against you, knocking your clit with each pass. “You’re so wet,” he tells you, sliding a finger inside of you. “So wet for us, angel.”

Bucky groans against your nipple before pulling away to watch Steve finger you. “Fuck, Steve,” he grumbles, resing his forehead against your sternum. “I know, language.” Steve chuckles by your ear, adding a second finger. He picks up his pace, hitting a spot inside of you that makes your head go fuzzy. Your knees wobble, and Bucky holds them, not letting you fall.

“Why don’t we take this to the tent, Buck,” Steve suggests. The other man nods, and a second later, he scoops you into his arms. Steve helps the two of you settle the tent after putting out the fire, and once you’re laying down between the two of them, they’re back on you.

Bucky slides down between your legs, tongue running over your pussy like he’s starving, while Steve’s tongue laves your breasts. Bucky works you back to the point Steve had gotten you to, the band in your belly ready to snap. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him to where you want him, and as he works tight circles over your clit, you come apart, shaking in his and Steve’s arms.

“So perfect, angel, so perfect,” Bucky whispers against your clit. “Gimme another one, come on.” He slides two fingers inside of you, stretching you while he tastes you. You’re sensitive since you just came, but Bucky is quick to soothe any ache you feel. Steve sucks marks across your breasts and neck, ones that you’re so happy to wear, and you come again just thinking about it.

“Please, please,” you moan, gently guiding Bucky’s face away from your pussy.

“Tell us what you want,” Steve tells you, kissing your cheek. You glance between him and Bucky, who is still resting between your thighs, and feel a renewed heat in your belly.

“I want both of you.” Bucky raises an eyebrow, urging you to continue. “I want both of you at the same time.” Steve and Bucky exchange a glance, and for a moment, you worry you’ve suggested the wrong thing. “Or, or not, I’m sorry I didn’t mean–”

“Angel,” Bucky says, nipping at your inner thigh. “That was the perfect suggestion.”

“Really?” You look at Steve for confirmation, unable to wipe the grin from your face.

“Really,” he replies. “We’ve been wanting that since we both realized we had feelings for you. We talk about it all the time, what we’d do to you, what you’d sound like.” Your mind floods with downright pornographic images of those conversations until Steve and Bucky pull you back to the real world.

“If you’re gonna take us we’re gonna have to get you ready,” Bucky says, shifting onto his knees. He slides his hands over your legs, but his eyes are on Steve. “You just gonna stare, Stevie? Or are you gonna do something?” Steve does his best to maneuver over to Bucky, and when he’s between your legs too, he strips Bucky out of his shirt and works his pants down too. Bucky strips Steve next, and before you know it, they’re both naked. You can’t take your eyes off of them, off of their perfectly sculpted bodies.

Bucky tugs Steve into a bruising kiss, both men melting into each other. They fit perfectly together, feeding off one another in a way you’ve never seen before. It’s beautiful. When they pull apart, they’re both panting. They turn to you next, lust filling their eyes.

Steve sinks lower and Bucky slides two fingers inside of you. Bucky moans as Steve takes his dick into his mouth. You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can watch. You’ve never had voyeuristic tendencies before, but these men bring out a new side of you.

Bucky smirks, one hand working you, the other hand cupping Steve’s head. He looks completely in his element. Bucky’s fingers scissor inside of you, stretching you out, but seeing how big he and Steve are, you aren’t sure any amount of preparation will be enough.

When Bucky decides you’re ready, he moves, pulling Steve off of him. Steve’s face is flushed, but he grins as he positions himself between your legs. He lines himself up with your pussy and notches the head of his dick at your entrance. You press your lips to his, moaning into the kiss as he presses inside of you. He’s stretching you more than Bucky’s fingers, but it feels so incredible.

“Oh my god, angel,” he moans, wrapping his arms around you. ”You’re so tight, squeezing me so good.” Bucky lays down beside you, hand sliding down to where Steve is fucking you. He circles your clit slowly in contrast to the pace Steve is setting.

“Doesn’t he feel good?” Bucky whispers into your ear, sliding his fingers lower, slipping one inside of you with Steve’s dick. You jolt at the feeling, but Steve kisses you sweetly, nipping at your lower lip. “His cock is perfect, isn’t it, angel? Hitting all the right spots, huh?”

“Shit, yes,” you moan, your head lolling back as Steve fucks you. “It feels so good.” Steve and Bucky seem to be communicating telepathically, because they keep moving in sync. Steve will shift, Bucky will move with him. They play your body like a fiddle, like they know you better than you know yourself.

Eventually, they manage to get Steve below you with you on top, riding him. He’s even deeper this way, hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t know existed. Bucky sits behind you, sliding his hands all over you, kissing you everywhere.

“You ready for the next step?” Bucky asks, sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

“Yes, yes, please,” you whimper. You’ve been on edge for a while, everytime you get close to coming Steve slows down, not letting you finish. Bucky rustles through a bag and you hear a click before you feel one of his fingers, slick and warm, pass over your ass. You shiver at the feeling but keep grinding against Steve.

Bucky works his finger inside of you, and even just the feeling of his finger in your ass coupled with Steve’s dick makes the band in your belly snap. You come on a groan, leaning back against Bucky’s chest. Once you’re relaxed, he adds a second finger. You feel like you’re going to explode. Bucky keeps working you, keeps stretching you, all the while whispering in your ear.

“So perfect for us, angel, so good. You squeezin’ my fingers so tight, squeezing Stevie so good.” After he feels you’re ready, you feel him pull away. Next, his lubed cock presses against your ass and you stifle a groan. Bucky runs his hands over you soothingly before he presses inside of you.

Steve moans loudly from below you, gripping your hips tightly. “Oh my god, Bucky, she’s so much tighter now.” You whimper as they start to move in tandem, stretching you to your limit.

“Come on, Stevie, show her how much you want her,” Bucky goads as he tweaks your nipples. Steve bucks below you, fucking into you faster. Your eyes roll back, your head falls onto Bucky’s shoulder, and all you can do is take it. Bucky presses in deeper, fucking you at an agonizing pace.

“God, angel, you feel so good. You’re perfect, so beautiful.” He whimpers the words, and you can tell he’s getting close. You run your hands along his chest, scraping him lightly with your nails, and he comes on a loud moan. Bucky keeps thrusting into you, making a sensitive Steve whine, but he comes soon after, filling you.

The three of you lay in an exhausted, sexed-out heap, breathing heavily. You’re blissed out between the two of them, loving how even though they’re about to pass out, they’re still caressing you; still holding you.

“I should go get something to clean us up,” Steve says, moving to sit up, but you grab him and pull him back down, tugging him into your chest.

“Not yet,” you whisper. Bucky joins your cuddle heap despite the heat coming off everyone’s bodies. “Just stay here with me.”

When setting up the tent, Bucky and Steve had opted to keep the rain fly off since it’s not supposed to rain, so you can see the stars through the mesh top of the tent. After a few moments of sated silence, you speak again. “Is this real?”

“Of course it’s real, angel,” Bucky replies, squeezing one of your hands. “Our feelings for you are real. This is real.”

“Your feelings for us are real, right?” Steve asks, lacing his fingers with your other hand.

“Of course.”

“Then it’s real,” Steve says. “We care about you so much, angel, and we want this to work out. Real.”

Eventually, you let Steve get you cleaned up. The three of you fall asleep in a tangled mess, but you couldn’t be happier. Tonight was perfect, this trip, these men, everything. Absolutely perfect.

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