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vivwritesfics · 6 months

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Military Flyover

The dagger squad don't want to do a military flyover of the Las Vegas grand Prix. None of them really knew much about and, those that did only really knew about Nascar.

She hated the Vegas Grand Prix as much as those doing the military flyover. But the cute WSO there to support his friends was making it bearable.

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x F1 driver!reader

5.6K

a/n: yes a military flyover doesn't make sense for vegas buuuut let a girl dream lol - i'm hoping I've managed to write this for an audience that might not really know f1 but idk how confident i am in my abilities lol

Bob couldn't quite believe what the two time Top Gun graduates were having to do. They had completed an insanely dangerous mission and returned to be permanently stationed in San Diego, except from when they were called away for deployment.

They were a part of the military, why were they doing this?

Well, at least Bob didn't have to actually fly. He was a Weapon Systems Officer, he didn't have to take part in this. But he still went, more to morally support his squad.

Nat wasn't happy about have to do a military flyover of the Las Vegas Grand Prix. She, Bradley and Jake were constantly complaining. None of them knew anything about Formula One, not enough to appreciate doing the flyover.

(May I just say, even if they did know about F1, they still wouldn't appreciate it. They'd train for years to be in the navy and now they were having to waste their time on this.)

The flyover was on the Sunday. Only Natasha, Jake and Bradley were taking part. Bob didn't have to go, didn't have to visit the track on the Friday and the Saturday with the three of them.

But Natasha had begged him. "Drive up with me," she'd said to him. "It's five hours and I could use the company."

So, Bob agreed. His dad had sometimes watched Nascar while he was growing up. He didn't know much of anything about motorsport but, if Nat wanted him there, he'd go.

The navy pilots didn't know they'd been invited to meet the drivers. Bob followed Natasha through the paddock. "Getting to meet the drivers might be the only good thing thing to come from this," Nat mumbled as she led the way.

The paddock was buzzing with life. There were cameras following people around, interviews happening as they walked through the paddock. Fans stopped men in team shirts and hats for pictures before letting them continue.

There was a familiar whistle, just loud enough for Natasha and Bob to hear over the crowd around them. They turned and saw Rooster and Hangman striding towards them.

"Where are we meant to be?" Asked Hangman as Rooster pulled off his aviators and looked around. The three of them (Natasha, Jake and Bradley) were in their overalls, looking proper in their uniform. Bob, though. He was dressed down, wearing jeans and a sweater (Vegas really wasn't that warm this time of year), his military issued glasses sitting on his nose. He looked cute, even if he didn't know it.

"Cyclone said the Ferrari garage, right?" She said as she looked between the other aviators. Bob, who had studied the itinerary, nodded his head and the four of them set off towards the red garage.

***

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was a joke. All of the drivers thought so.

The Ferrari drivers weren't happy about it (just like the rest of the grid). They had spent the season struggling behind the Red Bulls and driving on an unknown track wasn't going to help that.

She needed a lot of mental preparation for this one. Just like the other drivers, before the first practice session her only experience on the track had been through sim racing. She was nervous in a way she hadn't been before.

She donned her red fireproofs, the overalls hanging from from her hips. She pulled her cap onto her head when there was a knock on her driver room door. "Yeah?" She called and the member of Ferrari staff walked in.

"The navy pilots are on their way," she said and went to back out of the drivers room.

"What?" The Ferrari driver called suddenly, her brows furrowed. "What navy pilots?"

The member of staff gulped. "They're doing a military flyover before the Grand Prix," she said. "They're on their way here to meet you and Charles," she said.

The driver let out a huff. She grabbed her drinks bottle and marched out of her drivers room, heading to find her teammate.

Charles was doing an interview for Sky Sports when she walked through the garage. She didn't much care, though. She powered on, her hand on Charles's shoulder as she stood at his side. "Chuck," she said, looking at her teammate.

Lawrence Barretto moved his microphone back to his mouth. "Is that his official name for the Vegas Grand Prix?" He asked and moved the microphone towards her.

"Yes," she said as Charles shook his head, repeatedly saying 'no'.

She stood beside him until the interview was over, answering any question Lawrence sent her way. As soon as they were done she grabbed Charles and pulled him away, pulling him further into the Ferrari garage.

"What's up?" Charles asked. He was a brilliant teammate, one of her best friends. They'd known each other for yeas and were close enough for people to think they were together at one point. Brocedes 2.0, many commented on the pictures of the two of them posted on the Scuderia Ferrari Instagram account, as if they were a disaster waiting to happen.

"Did you know we're having to meet the navy pilots doing the military flyover?" She asked, hands on her hips.

Charles furrowed his brows. And then his face relaxed as he shook his head at her. "Start checking your emails, please," he said.

She gently pushed him as a member of the Ferrari staff, the same girl from before, approached them. "They're here," she said and left them to it.

Charles led the way back through the garage, heading to where the navy pilots were standing around his car. Three of them, the three that looked the part, chatted with Fred while one, one that was dressed down, stood to the side.

Suddenly, she pulled Charles out of sight. "What is it?" He asked quickly, concern written on his face.

She looked back around the corner at the pilots for just a second. "Holy shit, Cha, I think I'm in love," she said and Charles just laughed.

"Do you need a wingman?"

She furiously shook her head. "Don't you bloody dare."

She steadied herself and followed Charles over to the navy pilots. Fred spotted his drivers first. He gestured over to them as he back away from the pilots, letting the drivers take over.

Charles held his hand out towards them introducing himself first. She went next, giving them her name as she reached out to shake the woman's hand.

"Natasha Trace," she said with a smile as she shook her hand. "Callsign Phoenix."

She moved on to the man with the moustache. "Bradley Bradshaw, or Rooster," he said and shook her hand, his grip firm. He wore a smile, but it was respectful.

Unlike the man next to him. She could tell who he was from the moment she looked at him, wearing that flirty smile. "Jake Seresin," he said, pulling her hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it. "You can call me Hangman."

The smile dropped from her face and she pulled her hand away, clearly unimpressed. She looked past him, at the guy in the sweater and the glasses. "How about you?" She asked, completely ignoring Hangman. "Are you in the navy too?"

Bob blushed bright red as he stepped forward. "Robert Floyd," he said and shook her hand. "I'm a weapon systems officer."

"Oh," she said. Just that one word and she sounded incredibly fascinated. "Do tell me more."

She'd asked Charles not to wing man her, but he did it anyway. She might not have been aware as Charles spoke to the other navy pilots, doing the job for both of them. (Charles didn't know if Bob was the one she had fancied, but it was easy to guess. He looked like her type).

They spoke for a good twenty minutes before the drivers were told to wrap up the conversation. "You got a call sign?" She asked Bob as she crossed her arms over her chest and leant against the wall.

Jake had been wrapped up in the conversation he, Rooster and Phoenix were having with Charles until that point. Upon hearing her question, he placed his arm around the WSO's shoulders and grinned at the driver. "This is Baby On Board," he said with a grin, going to pinch Bob's cheeks.

Again, his cheeks were flaming as he stepped away from Jake. "It's Bob," he said. "Just Bob."

"Just Bob," she repeated as she smiled at him, completely ignoring everything Jake had said (something that Bob was grateful for). "It's simple, I like it."

Her engineer called for her. She turned and put her thumbs up before turning back to Bob. "Are you staying for the free practice?" She asked and Charles couldn't stop himself from answering.

"Sorry," he said to the pilots. "She doesn't read her emails."

She sent a glare in Charles's direction. The drivers said a quick goodbye to the navy pilots (although she hoped it wasn't for the last time), and got themselves ready for the first practice session in Las Vegas. They pulled up the red and white overalls and placed the balaclavas over their faces.

Bob watched as she pulled her helmet on, hiding her undeniably pretty face. He really did think she was beautiful, and she seemed interested in him, but he wasn't going to read too much into that.

He couldn't see as she gave him a smile from beneath her helmet. When she climbed into the red car with the number 53 on it, Bob knew which one he had to look out for.

The track wasn't ready, everybody knew it. But they didn't know how bad it was until they shower of sparks coming out the back of her car. "What the fuck was that?" She said to her engineer down the radio. "I just hit a fucking manhole cover."

The pilots were leaning forward as she stopped the car. The session was stopped, the other drivers coming into the pits. She jumped out of the car, waiting for it to be lifted onto the truck so that she could look at the extent of the damage beneath.

As the car was taken back to the garage and workers surrounded the manhole cover, she climbed into the medical car and was taken back to the pitlane.

Bob watched as she stormed into the garage, pulling off her helmet and balaclava. "Nine fucking minutes!" She heard her say to somebody in a Ferrari shirt. "I officially hate the Vegas Grand Prix."

She looked around the garage, eyes focusing in on the pilots. They were watching her, too, and she forced her expression to soften as she walked over. "Sorry you had to see that," she said, unzipping her race suit.

Bob shook his head. "'s no worries, ma'am," he said before he could stop himself. When his fellow aviators looked at him, his cheeks flushed red.

"We're just glad to know you're okay," Natasha said for him.

The driver smiled at them. But the interaction was short lived as she was called over to her wrecked car. (It looked fine on the top, but everybody knew the damage was beneath, invisible).

The nine minutes of practice wasn't enough to help the aviators get into F1. Rooster, Hangman and Phoenix wanted to head back to their hotels, but Bob wanted to stick around.

"My dad was into Nascar," he explained as the others left. They nodded, but they knew better. Their Baby On Board had a crush.

She hadn't expect him to stay, that much was clear. She'd seen the other aviators leave and had gotten on with what she needed to do, speaking to the mechanics about the parts they needed to replace and speaking to Fred about the potential consequences.

"Oh!" She said when she saw Bob still sitting there. "I thought you would have left."

Bob gave a polite smile and shrugged his shoulders. "I wanted to learn more."

The smile she gave him matched his own. "Well, you're not gonna learn much here," she said. "Let me get changed and we can get dinner."

Bob didn't expect dinner to be in the Ferrari hospitality suite. He'd didn't exactly think he'd be going out to dinner with her, but he didn't expect this.

She sat Bob down at a table and got a selection of food for them to share. "I can't exactly go crazy," she'd said as she sat down opposite him, placing the single plate in between them. "I still have a car to drive later."

Bob grabbed something from the plate. "Why does that mean you can't go crazy?" He asked curiously, innocently.

Every question Bob had, she answered. He told her that his dad watched Nascar while he was going up but he couldn't get into it. Didn't have the time once he joined the navy.

She asked him all about that, just as curious as he was about her job. Bob knew she was meant to be this big celebrity, but she was normal with him, and he really appreciated it.

He hadn't known who she was going into this weekend, but he heard the way the fans screamed her name. She was so famous, and he was just a boy from Montana.

"Are you and your friends watching anything else of the Grand Prix weekend?" She asked as she ate a piece of lettuce (literally just holding a big piece of lettuce to her lips and crunching on it).

Bob shook his head as he looked down at the table in front of him. "'Friad not, ma'am," he said, looking at her over the top of his glasses. Bob didn't know what compelled him to do it, but he took them off.

"Aw," she said with a pout. "I liked them."

"Really?" Bob couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. "I used to have ones with slightly thicker frames, but these are military issued," he explained, putting them back on his face.

She grinned at him. "They're cute," she said, resting her cheek in her hand. It was undeniably flirty, and her grin was only making it worse. Well, that would have been if Bob could have allowed himself to believe that was flirting with him.

"I could get you tickets, if you'd like," she said. "You and your pilot friends. You can come back back to the Ferrari garage, support us for the rest of the weekend."

Bob gave her a gentle smile. "I'd like that," he said.

They continued chatting until she had to head back to the garage. Bob followed her, walking behind her.

She took him back to the garage, leaving him to stand with the rest of the Ferrari guests while she disappeared into her drivers room. Bob couldn't help but think of her as she got herself ready, getting dressed into her fireproofs and race suit. If Nat was here, he could ask her for advice.

Ten minutes before the start of FP2, she walked over to Bob. He'd seen her dressed down in a Ferrari hoodie and cute cargos, seen her in her race suit, and seen her in her fire proofs, race suit sitting low on her hips.

That was how she walked towards him. He'd seen so little of her, but this was his favourite (and he certainly wanted to see more). "Want to sit in the car?" She asked, hands on her hips.

***

The first thing she did after FP2 was give Bob her phone number. He couldn't quite believe it, and made a mental note to recount everything to Natasha as soon as he got back to the hotel.

"Have you got a way back to your hotel?" She asked, her helmet tucked beneath her arm.

"I, uh..." No, he and Natasha had gotten a cab together.

She waved him off before he could give her a proper answer. "I can drive you, if you'd like," she offered.

That was how Bob found himself sitting in an F1 drivers car, telling her about his childhood as she took him back to his hotel. He told her about his big family and the mountains he grew up around. He told her about when he joined the military, about his first time in Top Gun and his permanent stationing in Coronado.

Before very long they were pulling up outside of his hotel. "Well, here we are," he said, patting his legs. He didn't move to leave the car, but she didn't much mind.

"I really liked meeting you today, Bob," she said as she tapped the heel of her hand against the steering wheel.

"It was lovely to meet you, too," he said.

"Promise you'll text me?"

"Promise."

She held out her pinky finger and Bob wrapped his own around it, sealing the deal. He looked at her one last time and climbed out of the car, heading into the hotel.

Bob couldn't hide his smile as he walked through the lobby and into the elevator. Just days ago he'd hated the thought of a military flyover for the Las Vegas Grand Prix. Now, he couldn't wait to get back to the track, back to the Ferrari garage.

Nat noticed it the minute he walked through the door of the hotel room they were sharing. "Had a good time watching the rest of it?" She asked as she pushed away from the desk in the room.

Bob nodded as he pulled out his phone, clicking on her contact. But, the moment he was there, he didn't know what to say to her. "Nat," he called, looking up at her. "I need your help."

He only needed Nat's help to get the ball rolling. But soon, she and Bob were sending messages back and forth with just a second long gap between. Sometimes Bob took a little longer to reply, but only because Nat was reading the messages over his shoulder and assuring him that she was flirting.

Bob couldn't believe it. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't.

"I'll go with you tomorrow," Nat said as she climbed into her bed. It was incredibly late and Bob was hyper-aware that they were still texting. "Find out if she really is flirting with you."

"Nat..."

"Goodnight, Bob."

Natasha went to sleep, but Bob stayed up. She was still replying to his messages, and he couldn't bring himself to not respond. At least until she turned around and wished him goodnight.

When Bob woke up, she had already texted him. I don't have to be on track until later - wanna get food?

Who was Bob to say no? Natasha grinned as he got himself ready, including his glasses. (He had brought his contacts to Vegas because of how much he hated wearing his glasses. He didn't have time to put them in before they headed to the track the day before, but Nat didn't expect him to wear them now).

He walked out of the hotel, ignoring Hangman and Rooster as they called after him. They sat in the lobby, do doubt waiting for Natasha as they whistled at him.

Bob kept going. He saw her car before he walked out of the glass doors, and had to stop himself from breaking into a small jog. As he approached, she pushed open the passenger side door. "Hey, Robby!" She called, wearing a grin.

"Hey," Bob said, wearing a smile as he climbed into the passenger side.

As soon as he was buckled in, she began driving. "Have you ever been to Vegas before?" She asked as she headed towards the strip.

Bob shook his head. "No, ma'am," he said. It wasn't in the same way he'd said 'ma'am' before. No, those time he had been nervous saying it. This time, it was so fucking cute and she loved it. "I don't get enough leave for that."

"Why do you call me ma'am?" She asked, but she never wanted it to stop.

Bob couldn't stop his smile. "My momma raised me right."

That much she could tell. She parked the car and climbed out as Bob did the same. "Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

They went to a restaurant. Bob didn't catch the name of it as she pulled him through the doors. Even when sat gave the waiter her name, she was still holding his hand.

They sat down at a table for two. It felt far too intimate, almost like a date. She couldn't order a drink, but insisted that Bob did. He ordered one beer and made sure to make it last through their entire lunch.

She ordered a salad. Bob wanted to do the same, but she could see how conflicted he was. "Have whatever you want," she said, lowering her menu.

So, he did just that. Bob got himself a burger, the cheapest one on the menu (which was still incredibly expensive).

While they ate, Bob couldn't ignore the way her foot touched his knee beneath the table. He gulped as he reached for his beer.

While they waited, she told Bob about how she had grown up. Karting from a young age before moving onto single seaters.

The more she spoke, the more Bob could imagine getting into F1. Watching races, coming to see her in Vegas when he wasn't deployed. He just had to hope she still liked him enough to keep in contact with him.

They spent the entire afternoon together, until she was taking Bob to the track with her. Pictures of the two of them were taken as they walked through the paddock, too close to just be friends.

Once again, Bob stood in the garage while she completed the last practice session. She led, the fastest car until the Red Bulls were released onto the track.

But still, Bob couldn't stop watching the number 53 car. She came into the pits, had her tyres changed and went out a few minutes later.

Bob couldn't help but smile as he watched her climb the leaderboard. When practice ended, she didn't come in right away, doing a practice start with the other drivers.

When she got out of her car, she pulled off her helmet and balaclava, and spoke to her engineers. She had looked so happy when she climbed out of the car, but Bob watched as her face fell.

She walked over to him, unable to keep herself from sighing. The anger dropped from her face, replaced by sadness. "Wanna come sit in my drivers room?"

So, Bob followed her to her drivers room. She led him inside and shut the door behind him, letting out a breath as she leaned against it.

"Everything okay?" Asked Bob as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

She unzipped her overalls and let them fall to her hips. Bob shuffled over on the couch, giving her space. She sat beside him, shutting her eyes as she leaned back. "Because of the parts they'd had to replace in my car, I'm probably going to get a penalty later," she mumbled.

Her head fell onto his shoulder and Bob didn't move. He hesitated before wrapping his arm around her shoulder. That that, she shuffled slightly closer, which Bob didn't mind one bit.

Suddenly, she let out a weak laugh. "You're kinda making me want to stay in the states a little longer, Robby," she mumbled.

He looked down at her. "Would you? Seriously?" Bob could imagine it then, taking her to stay with him in San Diego, taking her to Montana to meet his mom at Christmas.

She shook her head. "I can't," she said and sighed through her nose. "There's one last race before the end of the season."

After that, Bob wanted to say. But he squeezed her shoulder instead.

When her trainer came in, Bob wished her good luck and headed back out to the garage. While he waited, he pulled out his phone and sent Natasha a text. She hadn't gone to the track with him, instead going with Bradley and Jake to the hangar they would be flying from.

If Nat showed Rooster and Hangman his texts, he'd never hear the end of it. But Bob realised he didn't mind. Let them talk, he was here with her.

The first round of the qualifying session was about to start. Bob sort of knew what to expect, she'd explained it to him while they sat in her drivers room, her head on his shoulder. He watched as she walked towards the car, her red, gold, black and white helmet on her head.

She climbed into the car and somebody strapped her in as somebody else spoke to her. She nodded at whatever they were saying and put her thumbs up.

Admittedly, Bob couldn't tell the difference between the practice sessions and the qualifying session. He watched as she went from having no time on the board to being the quickest car on track. But then she was knocked out of the top spot, down in eighth by the end of that session.

Bob had assumed that she was starting the race in eighth position after the eighteen minute long qualifying session. But then she and fourteen other drivers were going back out onto track.

Again she was at the top of the board, knocked out by the same driver. But she stayed in fourth, unable to get a quicker time in before the end of the session.

She went out for a third and final time. Bob heard her calling down the radio as somebody got in her way. But she put an impressive time on the board, finishing third.

It may have been obvious to everybody else in the garage, but Bob had to ask the girl standing next to him. She pushed her dark hair behind her ear and answered with a thick French accent. Bob thanked her and watched as the 53 car came into the garage.

She hopped out, did what she needed to do and came to find Bob.

It was near midnight and she couldn't quite believe he was still there, watching her. They'd spent the entire day together, and she'd loved every minute of it.

"Want me to drive you home?" She asked and Bob nodded his head.

She did just that, driving Bob back to his hotel. "They haven't confirmed if I've got a penalty or not," she said as she drove him. "So, for now I'm starting in P3." She quickly glanced at him and then looked back at the road. "Think you might be my good luck charm, Robby," she said and he blushed a deep shade of red.

She pulled up outside of the hotel, just as she had done the day before. And, like the day before, Bob was hesitant to climb out of the car.

As Bob reached for the handle of the door, she opened her mouth, ready to say something, and he stopped. But she closed her mouth. Still, Bob didn't move.

She sucked in a breath and tried again. This time, words came out. "Can I come up?"

Bob knew what that meant. How could he not? Some part of him had been wanting her to ask something like this for the last few hours. But still, he shook his head. "I, uh, I can't. I'm sharing my room with Nat."

"Oh," she said and looked down at the centre console between them. "Oh, shit. Are you and Nat- I didn't mean to overstep... I-"

Bob quickly shook his head. "No. No, Nat's my best friend, but only my best friend," he said. "But, her bed is a couple feet away from mine, so..."

She couldn't help but let a smile cross her face at that. "Can I kiss you, Robby?" She asked.

He leaned over the centre console. Her arms went around his neck, fingers playing with the short hair at the back of his neck.

Bob kissed her. He closed the gap between them, his arm awkwardly resting on her shoulders as his lips moved against her own. Her nose bumped the lens of his glasses, but neither of them minded.

If the expensive car left room for it, he would have moved her onto his lap. But he couldn't. He pulled away, staring at her as his eyes opened again. "Holy shit," he whispered and she grinned at him.

"I'll come and get you before the race," she said and Bob climbed out of the car.

***

He didn't wake up to a text from her. Immediately Bob's mind played tricks on him, telling him that, after they had kissed, she didn't want him.

He sat in the hotel for half of the day, in a perpetual state of anxiousness. Part of him didn't want to move until he heard from her, until he knew that everything was okay.

"You coming?" Nat asked him. He checked his phone one last time before following her out of the hotel room.

He didn't know what she was currently dealing with, that she had just found out about her grid place penalty. "This is such shit!" She cried as she and Charles walked through the paddock. She'd woken up to the news and hadn't had time to message Bob.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," Charles said, stopping to sign things for fans (signs, hats, and even a packet of oreos). "How are things going with the navy guy?"

She grinned as they kept walking through the paddock. "We kissed, Cha," she said, suddenly much happier.

"Kissed and..." Charles tried to push.

She shook her head. "Just kissed."

Charles nodded as they walked into the garage. "Just kissed, but you wanted more," he said. "Are you gonna see him before we leave?"

"Yeah," she answered. "I'm gonna go and pick him up before the race."

Through the evening, she and Charles did what they needed to do for the race. When she got a minute, she texted Bob, but she didn't have many opportunities to check her phone.

As soon as she had a chance, she ran out of the paddock. She held her phone to her ear as she went, making her way to her car. Bob picked up on the third ring. "Hey," she said, opening the door of her car. "I'm on my way."

Bob hesitated before he answered. "I'm not at the hotel right now."

"Do you still want to come to the race?" She asked quickly.

"Do you still want me there?"

She let out a laugh. "Of course I do, Robby. Give me the address and I'll pick you up."

That was just what happened. She picked Bob up and took him to the track. She promised the other aviators that she would get him there to watch the military flyover and drove off with him in the passenger seat.

"Have you ever been to San Diego?" Bob asked as she drove. It had been playing on his mind a lot since they kissed, his best case scenario (which was currently happening. He could have laughed at himself for being so worried).

She shook her head. "I haven't had a chance to explore outside of the places we have Grand Prix," she answered.

"So, you haven't been to Montana?"

"Nope."

Bob couldn't help but smile. He sucked in a breath, steadying himself. "I don't know when you're gonna have time off, but I could show you Montana, if you'd like."

She grinned at him as she parked the car. "I'd love that, Robby," she said and climbed out of the car.

She checked the time on her watch, grabbed her hand and began running. "I'm late!" She cried. Bob was only happy to run beside her, heading into the Ferrari garage. He slowed to a walk, but she kept going, running to her drivers room to pull on her fireproofs and overalls.

Bob watched it all. He watched as she stood for the national anthem with her fellow drivers, watched as she completed the formation lap from the back of the grid (something he had to ask about), and watched as she raced.

Bob couldn't help but be impressed as she fought her way across the track, racing past most of the grid. She overtook ten other cars, finishing in 5th.

When she climbed out of the car, Bob could see just how happy she was from her body language alone. She did what she had to do, spoke to the team and was interviewed, before she ran over to Bob and threw her arms around him.

"That was incredible!" He cried, smiling down at her. "I didn't realise racing was so exciting."

She grinned and kissed his cheek. "Think you'll watch next weeks race?"

"Definitely," he said.

He hadn't expected her to kiss him in front of all of the cameras. But Bob didn't mind. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close until she pulled away.

"I leave in the morning," she whispered in his ear. "Stay with me, in my hotel. One last night."

"Until Montana?" Bob asked, his forehead against her own.

"Until Montana."

a/n: ok i loved this and it may need a part two lol

#bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x you #robert floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader smut #robert bob floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd smut #robert floyd x you #top gun #top gun bob #top gun maverick

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avis-writeshq · 1 year

Text

carriage six – spencer reid

summary: Spencer Reid prides himself in his routine. Wake up at half-past six. Leave his apartment at a quarter past seven. Get onto the seven thirty train. Arrive at Quantico at eight forty five. He has a plentiful of reasons as to why he does it; it’s efficient, it gets him to the office early, it works. But the biggest reason is the girl that always sits in the seat a few rows across from him, headphones on and always reading a book.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: strangers to lovers, rated G for mutual pining and second hand embarrassment. no use of (Y/N).

warnings: fluff, boy band spencer reid (caution, hot!). i tried to write in Spencer’s pov, and with that comes a lot of rambling. i like to think that his mind is running 100 miles an hour, so i tried to write in a style that could implicate that <3

wc: 1.8k

part two: platform ten

Spencer tries not to look so excited when he enters the subway, clad in light grey slacks, a lavender dress shirt, a brown and purple argyle sweater vest and a mauve coloured tie. His signature leather bag is strapped across his chest and he has a light cardigan in his hand; the weather reports said it would be cold today. His head spins with the statistics on the accuracy of meteorology, considering the bright and sunny skies that blessed the citizens of D.C that morning. He’s donning a new haircut today as well. It was a lot shorter than he originally planned to get it, but he likes it. In fact, he likes it a lot, particularly the way it drapes across his forehead and the way it looks messy but still cool. That’s how he would describe it. Cool. He feels cool.

He hasn’t been able to get onto the subway for three days because of a case in Connecticut and his mind wanders. Will there be another case soon? How long would it take? He hopes it would be a local case. He feels guilty thinking that; he shouldn’t be hoping for a case at all. After all, that would only mean someone else has met their untimely death. He shakes his head to dismiss the thoughts.

He steps onto the train, onto the sixth carriage, and sits on his usual seat. In his mind, it’s the perfect seat. It avoids the sun so he doesn’t need to squint and he doesn’t have to turn the brightness level of his phone all the way up. It’s right next to the door in case he needs to make a quick exit. It’s right next to a handicapped seat, meaning that people tended to avoid it. But the best thing about this seat was the view.

He cringes when he thinks of it. ‘View’ sounds gross. Perverted. ‘View’ is the wrong word to describe it. His favourite thing about this particular seat is the company. Yes, he likes the company, although it technically doesn’t exactly count as company.

His gaze shifts to his company. Exactly four rows away, her eyes trained on the book in her hands. He recognises it to be ‘Pride and Prejudice’, the limited edition rose gold copy that was released eight months, three weeks and two days ago. He has the same copy sitting on his dresser.

She looks different today. Granted, it had been three days since he last saw her. He scans her figure to try to place his finger on the difference and he realises. She’s wearing a new lipgloss. Spencer’s cheeks burn when he realises. Why on earth— no, how on earth is he able to tell? He feels himself cringe and he shifts his gaze and scans the rest of carriage in an attempt to busy himself and his mind, but his eyes ultimately fall back on his company.

Spencer can’t seem to take his eyes off of her. What’s she listening to? Where is she up to in her book? Does she like Austen? Has she read any other books by her? What does she think of Elizabeth and Darcy’s relationship? So many questions enter his mind and he wishes he had the guts to go over and strike up a conversation. But he’s not like Morgan. He doesn’t have that type of charisma or that type of confidence. If anything, he supposes, he’s self aware. He knows that the moment he starts a conversation, he would start rambling for twenty minutes about the relationship dynamics between the characters and why Austen was so incandescent and exceeded all beliefs as a writer in her world. He’d start to bring in authors like Virginia Woolf and why her admiration towards Jane Austen was warranted. Ultimately, Spencer thinks to himself as his eyes wander back to the girl, he’d scare her off.

He watches as she falters in her movements, her fingers pausing from flipping the page and Spencer frowns. From what he could tell, she was a little bit more than halfway through the book. Maybe up to page 260? But there’s nothing remotely difficult in that part of the book. If anything, that was the most simple and straightforward section of the entire text. And then he realises. His cheeks burn once more and he quickly busies himself with his phone, biting his lip and avoiding her amused gaze. Your amused gaze.

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze. You’ve seen him all the time, for the past three years in fact, when you first moved to D.C. He’s cute, really cute, and he’s even cuter when he looks like a deer caught in headlights. You raise a teasing eyebrow his way and you watch as he quickly avoids your gaze, looking into his phone. You can’t the soft laugh that leaves your lips, your fingers tracing against the pages of your book. Maybe you have a little more confidence in yourself than you thought.

***

The next day, Spencer feels a small sense of dread creeping into his heart. He feels embarrassed, so goddamn embarrassed, and he wonders how he could face you. His cheeks are burning and he tugs at his collar. He’s wearing a light blue shirt with a patterned purple tie, along with dark navy coloured pants. He teeters on his feet, waiting with anticipation for the train. The moment he enters the carriage, his eyes fall to the seat you would be seated at, only to see no one at all. He can’t help but frown, a little disappointed but a little relieved. He moves to his usual seat, and lo and behold, he sees you there, one leg crossed over the other and reading a different book.

He mutters a soft apology as he slides into the seat next to you, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“Wuthering Heights,” he says, surprising himself.

He watches as you look up from your pages, a small smile on your face. You’re wearing the same lip gloss as yesterday.

“Yeah.” You smile, taking your headphones off and letting them rest around your neck. “You’ve… have you read it before?”

He nods, and he curses himself for looking so eager. “Yes! Um, yes, I’ve read it. It’s really good.”

“Brönte is brilliant,” You respond, sliding a bookmark in between the pages. “I finished Pride and Prejudice last night. Jane Austen is still my favourite.”

You’re baiting him. He knows that. He takes it.

“I saw,” He says quietly, biting his lip. “Not– not in like a stalker way! I just… I just noticed you reading it on the train. Yesterday. I, um, I saw you reading it yesterday.”

He wants to kick himself. His face is flushed and he’s sure that his neck is just as red as his face. His ears are hot and his head spins when he hears you laugh.

“It’s okay. I saw you too.” You offer a smile, your own cheeks warm. “You were reading Edgar Allen Poe a few weeks ago. Is he any good?”

His eyes light up and he tucks an invisible strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a habit of his, since he’s had longer hair almost all of his life.

“He’s very good,” Spencer insists, pulling the little book out of his satchel. “His works range from short stories to poetry, his most famous works being The Tell-Tale Heart, and Annabel Lee. The former is a short story. It’s a little grim, but he writes in an incredibly eloquent way that presents the narrator’s descent into madness, despite the point of the text being to convince the reader that he isn’t mad. Annabel Lee is a poem about a man obsessed with a woman named Annabel Lee and-“

He purses his lips, realising how much he’s spoken. He coughs into his fist, setting his book down in his lap as he quickly glances at you.

“…and what?” You prompt, your head tilting the side in curiosity. “Go on, don’t let me stop you. You’re convincing me to actually get the book on his collection of works.”

His head practically snaps to look at you, a look of surprise on his face. He scans your face for any insincerity, from your eyes all the way down to your lips, before clearing his throat.

“Um… well, uh, in Annabel Lee, the narrator speaks about keeping her in a castle by the sea. It’s a classic case of isolation and some literature analysts even go as far as to say that the narrator was hoping that Annabel would fall in love with him through Stockholm Syndrome but died before the narrator was able to carry out his plan.”

You take in his words, nodding along to his explanation. “You seem to be an expert yourself.”

He laughs, running his fingers through his hair. “No, I uh, I’m not an expert on literature or anything. But I am a doctor.”

“A doctor?” Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Like… a medical doctor or…? No offence, but you really don’t look like a medical doctor.”

He laughs again, nodding. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not. I have PhD’s in chemistry, mathematics and physics, as well as BAs in psychology, sociology and philosophy.”

You let out a low whistle. “You a collector or something?”

He blushes, swallowing thickly. “No, I uh… no…?”

“You don’t sound too sure of yourself doctor…” You pause, realising that you really don’t know much about this man. You look up at him expectantly.

“Reid,” He says quickly, clearing his throat. “Spencer Reid. You, um, you don’t have to call me doctor.”

“Alright then, Spencer.” You smile, and he thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. You introduce yourself and he tells you that you have a pretty name.

Time passes, and the conversation continues. You could talk for hours with Spencer; about books, movies, anything. He can make anything sound interesting, it’s one of his charms. He smiles a boyish grin as he talks, gesticulating wildly as he rants about his favourite texts and why Austen is a genius. He asks you what you’re listening to and you almost scream at the thought of introducing him to Taylor Swift.

Before long, the train lurches to a stop at his station and he can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

“It was nice meeting you. Officially,” He adds, gripping the strap of his leather bag.

“It was nice to officially meet you too,” You respond, smiling up at him as he gets up from his seat. “Tomorrow?”

His eyes practically light up. “Tomorrow.”

reblogs are always appreciated!

part two: platform ten

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fluff

2K notes · View notes

hwaslayer · 19 days

Text

vivrant thing (jwy) | two.

—SPOTIFY PLAYLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST

—SUMMARY: after getting into a little accident, wooyoung decides to do his sister a favor by pretending to be your date at the company summer party. as soon as the night ends, wooyoung would go back to his usual routine of hanging out with his boys, keeping his distance from committed relationships and being a typical brother to jiwoo. except, the favor comes with more than what wooyoung expects and he finds you occupying his mind more than usual.

—PAIRING: jung wooyoung x f. reader

—GENRE: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriend’s brother au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—WORD COUNT: 8.8k

—CHAPTER WARNINGS: cussing/mature language, ponytail wooyoung !!!, alcohol consumption / intoxication, party at the winery!, dancing, sweet affectionate moments, songs mentioned are in the playlist, wooyoung is very sweet and will take care of his date 10/10 recommend 🥰

"Wait, wait, wait." San shakes his head in disbelief. "You're going to your sister's company summer party? With Y/N?"

"Mhm." Wooyoung responds nonchalantly.

"I thought her car was already getting fixed at the shop though, what does that have to do with you?"

"You think my sister is gonna leave it at that?" Wooyoung cocks a brow before putting down the navy button-up shirt back on the rack. "I'm just doing her the favor so she can let me be. I know she'll continue to hang it over my head if I don't."

"Wow, you're strong."

"I only agreed cause it's one night. And cause of the whole thing with my sis. Believe it or not, I don't always want her finding reasons to nag at me."

"Wouldn't that be weird, though?"

"What?"

"Being Y/N's date."

"Sure, but it's whatever."

"What're you even gonna talk about all night?"

"I don't know? Am I supposed to have a list ready and check it off as I go?" He gives San a weird look. "I'll figure it out. Who knows, it might not even be that bad."

"I'm not gonna lie, she did look pretty cute at your parents' bbq."

"She's always been cute. She's just shy as hell."

"Mm, yeah." San starts to eye the sweaters on the rack, pulling out a few and hanging it against his chest to see how they'd look on him. "So, what are you guys wearing?"

"I'm not sure." San's forehead crinkles when he turns to look at Wooyoung.

"Aren't you supposed to be sure? You're going together. You have to match."

"Well, we don't really have to. We're not dating, we're just going to a party together as friends."

"Acquaintances."

"Yeah, okay Merriam-Webster." Wooyoung scoffs and pulls out a black button-up shirt that he probably already has in his closet— but it wouldn't hit the same as buying a new one for a summer party. "Stop trying to make it seem like it's super complicated when it's not."

"I'm not. I'm just having a hard time imagining it."

"Then, don't. She's really not that bad."

"Wish she wasn't so shy." Wooyoung turns to San.

"Or.. what?"

"Maybe I would've tried getting to know her more."

"Fuck outta here, Choi San. You're only saying that shit because I'm taking her out to a party." Wooyoung points towards the front of the shop. "Wait. You see that right there?"

"What?" San leans over to try and get a good look at what Wooyoung is pointing at.

"Look closely." He ushers him to get closer. "If you look straight ahead, you'll see the front door. You can take your exit there."

"Fuck you."

"Shut up then. Don't start saying that stuff about Y/N." Wooyoung rolls his eyes as he continues to flip through the racks, trying to spot more clothes to buy and fill his closet with. He's not really sure why he feels the sudden need to be protective of you, especially with San. Hearing him say things like that rubs Wooyoung the wrong way and he's not sure if it's because he's known you for years, or because of something else that he doesn't really wanna think about right now. In the end, Wooyoung doesn't deal with feelings. They're too complicated, and they tie him down.

"Oh my god! Those dresses are so cute, you'll definitely find one here!" Wooyoung overhears from nearby.

"Whoever that is, sounds exactly like my sister." Woo does a slight head tilt and pretends to shiver. "Can't escape—"

"Because it is your little sister, dummy." San nods his head towards your direction, the both of them watching as you, Jiwoo and Hongjoong walk into the same store. It's almost like the sibling radar goes off for Jiwoo because it doesn't take long before her eyes meet his.

"Why are you here?" She asks, slowly approaching them.

"Waiting for security to take your ass out." Wooyoung looks at the security guard and pretends to call him over. "Excuse me. The nuisance is right here, sir. Please escort her out." Jiwoo rolls her eyes and walks closer to him, giving Hongjoong the opportunity to greet him and San. "Whattup!"

"Taking these girls shopping for the party." Hongjoong responds.

"Me too!" Wooyoung points at San, causing him to click his teeth in response. "Hey Y/N." He smiles down at you and pulls you into a hug before San does the same.

"Are you wearing black to the party?" Jiwoo holds out the shirt Wooyoung has in his hand.

"And if I am?"

"It's a summer party."

"Black goes with everything?" Jiwoo gives him a look that he reciprocates. "You know, now that you're here Y/N, maybe we can shop for our outfits together."

"Sure, okay—" You respond softly, about to step closer to him when Jiwoo holds your hand and tugs you back.

"I'm shopping with her."

"I have better taste than you."

"I think not." She looks down at the shirt again before looking back up at her brother. "Anyway, we'll be off to find our dresses." She links her arm with yours as you quietly continue to shift your attention between Jiwoo and her brother. "Byeeeee!" She swings you around and drags you towards the dresses in the back corner of the store. Hongjoong lingers around the boys for a little longer, shopping for new shirts himself. The boys talk about their upcoming plans before the summer party, also throwing in some guesses about how the summer party is going to turn out.

Meanwhile, when you and Jiwoo head to the dresses, your eyes automatically land on a strapless corset midi dress— it has a simple black and gold abstract print on it, the fabric mainly mesh. It'll be a little tighter than you'd like, the side slit a little higher than you'd like, but you thought it'd go with the vibe best. There are a few other dresses that caught your eye, and Jiwoo encouraged you to try them on in order to decide which one worked best.

You could like the way one looks, but it could be completely different when you put it on.

But, your decision remains the same; the abstract dress fits you well, and you can't lie, you feel the sexiest in it. The corset bodice, along with the bodycon fit, provides enough support and shape to hug you in all the right places. Jiwoo squeals when she sees you in the dress, completely agreeing with your decision [she would've any other way]. She jokes that her brother better keep his hands to himself with how good you look and all you can do is shyly shake your head with a tiny giggle before heading back into the room to slip it off.

"Did you find your dresses?" Hongjoong comes, eyeing the dress Jiwoo has in her hands.

"Mhm! Is my pain in the ass brother still here?" Hongjoong shakes his head.

"Him and San just left."

"Good. The dress Y/N has is to be kept a secret until the party. She's gonna look so good, I might have to tell Wooyoung to keep his hands to himself." You come out of the dressing room with the dress tucked closely to your chest, hanging the rest on the go-back rack.

"Hongjoong, please tell her she doesn't have to do all of that." You look at him and he chuckles. "Remember? You're the one who put your brother up to all of this just so I could go to the party. I'm quite positive it's just a favor and nothing else." You all walk towards the register to pay for your items.

"Still, okay? You're gonna look amazing. I gotta give him a little warning and make sure he doesn't get super handsy with you." She shivers, making you playfully roll your eyes in response.

"Jiwoo, are you gonna help me with hair and makeup? Cause I literally won't know what to do that'll go well with this dress."

"Of course, bae! We'll make it pop, but keep it simple. Trust me on this." She squeezes your wrist just before handing her card over to the cashier. Once her and Hongjoong finish paying, you follow them down to the food court, ordering some friend chicken to munch on before sharing a huge bowl of bingsu with the two. You catch San and Wooyoung passing through the food court, now accompanied by two other girls. They don't look familiar, at least you don't think. In any case, it doesn't make you feel any better knowing Wooyoung simply agreed to go to the party with you as a favor to his sister.

The harsh reality settles that this meant nothing more, nothing less.

You were just a favor.

The day of the party comes quicker than expected. Work had been so busy that the days had flown by, bringing you to your present:

Which is, Jiwoo helping you pop in some hazel colored contacts before doing your makeup and hair.

"Keep your eye open!"

"Ugh, I hate contacts. Jiwoo, you know I hate the feeling!"

"I know, but I promise it'll be over quick! Just keep it open and don't blink. The more you resist, the longer it'll bother you!" You groan again, gaining the last bit of courage to keep your eye open for Jiwoo as she aligns the contact and gently places it in. "Close and blink for me?" She watches and claps. "Perfect, now do the same for the other eye."

"Jiwoo." You whine.

"I know you can't do it yourself!"

"I can go without them!"

"But, the colored contacts give you a pop and it's cute!"

"I'm literally crying." You point at the tear strolling down your cheek.

"Beauty is pain, my dear! Just for one night! Now, keep still—" She pauses, the both of you holding your breaths while she pops in the last contact into your left eye. You flinch the moment it settles, dabbing at the tears that stream down your cheeks.

"Never again. Wooyoung is literally not gonna care."

"Who said this is about Wooyoung? It's your first summer party, forget my brother. You're gonna be the hottest thing to walk that winery." You shake your head, letting Jiwoo dab some powder onto your cheeks. "You look good, girly! Look at you!" She shoves the mirror in your face. Jiwoo did some loose curls on your hair, and a very natural look for your makeup. Fake lashes, a shade of blush that pops on your cheeks, clear gloss, natural eyeshadow— just enough razzle dazzle, but nothing too extra, as Jiwoo says.

You don't really recognize yourself, though. But, in a good way. You like the change. You normally don't wear makeup, you don't do your hair. You like to think you're simple, maybe too simple, but you don't mind it one bit. That was you, and you've come to embrace it. The change, though? It was nice to see on you once in awhile.

"Thank you." You smile at her and she squeals before checking her phone.

"Okay, my brother should be here in a bit. We're gonna take off and meet you there?"

"Why are you going so early?! You're not gonna leave at the same time as me and Wooyoung?!"

"Nope. We gotta get parking and get first dibs on the wine." She snorts before flashing her phone, screen signaling a call from Hongjoong. "You'll be fine, okay? Granted, as long as Wooyoung doesn't fucking text and drive again but I'm sure he won't with you in the car."

"Jiwoo!"

"I'll see you in a bit! I love you, mwah!" She says, grabbing her things and rushing out of your studio; heels click-clacking away on the pavement before she squeals even louder seeing her boyfriend. You shake your head, dabbing a bit more highlighter across your collarbone just like Jiwoo taught you.

Within the next 25 minutes or so, you munch on some apple slices you already had in the fridge, somewhat satisfying both your hunger and sweet tooth. Just as you're re-applying lip gloss, Wooyoung's call comes through on your phone, startling you and causing you to drop the wand onto the floor.

"Oh shoot." You grab the wand and blow it off, submerging it back into the tube. "Hello?"

"Yo— everything okay?" He laughs a bit hearing the rustling in the back. "I'm downstairs."

"Sorry, just dropped my lip gloss." You whine a bit away from the phone. "I'll be down in a second."

"Ah, hate when that happens. See you in a bit!" You hang up the call and spray on another spritz of perfume before grabbing your purse, shutting off your lights and closing up your studio. You slowly climb down the steps, Wooyoung probably questioning why you're taking each step 2 miles per hour and sideways.

You make it down in one piece. Slowly, carefully.

You shyly slip into the passenger's seat, and you almost pause mid-way when you glance at Wooyoung in the driver's seat. As promised, he's in a simple black-on-black fit— a crisp black button up with the sleeves rolled up ever so slightly, black dress pants and black boots. His hair is tucked back in a ponytail with a few strands framing his face. The car smells like his cologne, and he's chewing away at some gum while waiting. You've seen Wooyoung formally dressed before for special occasions, but there hasn't been one time you found yourself ogling at him the way you are right now.

You've never seen him like this, or maybe you just never paid attention? You didn't really have a reason to until tonight. Well, you didn't really have a reason because he was your bestfriend's brother.

"Hi." He says, setting his phone down in the middle console. Thank god he didn't catch you staring at him the way you were. But now, he's doing the same and you're not sure why he's staring. Do you look weird? Is something on your face?

"Hi." He softly smiles, eyes still exploring your body from head to toe and you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. "What? Is it cause my eyes are kinda red?" You pout, immediately looking through the passenger mirror. "I swear I'm not like, high or anything. Jiwoo helped me put the contacts in earlier—"

"She, what?" He chuckles before shaking his head. "No, nothing. I just— you look beautiful, Y/N. Was taking it in, that's all."

"O-oh." You tuck a strand behind your ear before settling back into your seat. "Thank you, Wooyoung."

"Of course. You ready?" He glances at your seatbelt and you give him a nod to drive off. "Alright, lehgo." He says, shifting the gear and turning up his music a bit. The familiar voices of Blaque comes through on the speakers, Wooyoung softly singing along to JC Chasez's part in Bring It All To Me. You knew Wooyoung could sing, but it still blows your mind every time you hear his voice. He has one hand gripping tightly onto the wheel, the other resting on the gear. "Do you know if my sister and Hongjoong left already?"

"Yeah, they did about 30 minutes ago."

"She's deadass gonna be the first person there."

"She said she wanted dibs on parking and the wine."

"Gonna be the first person there and drunk. Free entertainment." You chuckle. "Your dress." He points at your dress before shifting his attention back to the road. "It's pretty. It looks good on you." You smile.

"I picked it."

"I figured. You've always had better taste than Jiwoo."

"Stop." You chuckle. "She did my hair and makeup."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He nods in approval, bottom lip poking out. He really does think you look incredibly pretty— he's always thought you were cute, beautiful. But tonight, he can't take his eyes off of you and that'll be bad news for him as the evening continues. First and foremost though, his goal is to keep you comfortable and happy tonight. His goal is to make sure you have fun, and that's what he'll do with your pretty little self.

"Okay, I'll give her that. But, that stays between us." You snort.

"Sure, Woo." He chuckles.

"Warm enough? Music too loud?"

"No, it's all fine. I'm good. Promise."

"Okay, cause we still have about another 30 minutes to go before we get to the winery."

"I'm fine." You reassure him with the prettiest smile before returning your attention outside the window.

"So, does Yeosang know you're going?"

"No."

"Mm, okay. Definitely not prepared for him to beat my ass tonight. I did wear my good socks though, so.. he can try it if he wants." He shrugs.

"He's not like that." You respond softly with a giggle. "Besides, it's my fault. I withheld it from him intentionally."

"Well, what's the deal? If you don't mind me asking." You sigh. "My sister said it'd be weird for you two to go to the party together so I'm suspecting it's a one-sided thing."

"I just.. don't see him that way."

"Why don't you just tell him?"

"I don't know. I'm not really good at these things. I don't know how to say it and I don't wanna hurt his feelings."

"You'll hurt him more by letting it slide like this, you know?" Wooyoung shrugs. "It's okay if you don't feel the same. No one can ever force you to feel a certain way and he'll understand that. But, it'll make it easier on everyone if you're just honest from the get."

"Mmyeah."

"I promise. It'll be tough to get it out, but he'll appreciate it."

"I know, I know."

"In the meantime, are we avoiding him tonight? Lemme know the plan." You shrug.

"If he comes up to me, I'll just explain. Then.. go from there. Wherever that is." You pout a bit.

"Hm." Wooyoung hums when he sees the worried look on your face. "Don't worry about it too much, okay? We'll have fun tonight."

"I feel bad that you're here."

"Ouch, why? Don't want me here?"

"It's not that. You were basically forced to be here so Jiwoo wouldn't get on you for her car."

"Eh, well. Her car is fixed. She can't always force me into things. Besides, it's free entrance to a winery with unlimited wine. Why would I say no to that?" You chuckle.

"You say that now."

"We'll enjoy it together, yeah?" He looks at you and you meet his eyes, nodding quietly in agreement. You hope you'll be able to enjoy with Wooyoung, but as of right now, you're a bit anxious and scared for what the night will bring.

When Wooyoung pulls up into the main lot of the winery, the parking attendant signals for him to follow the rest of the cars into the extended lot. He jokes under his breath that maybe, he should've followed his sister's lead with this one and left earlier. But, it doesn't last long when he's able to snag a spot right by the back entrance near the winery's lawn area— aka, where the party would mostly take place.

"Alright. If we ever need to dine and dash, just say the word. We'll leave." He says, hopping out of the car while you laugh to yourself. He swings your door open and holds out his hand for you to take, shutting it close after he's gotten you out of the car. He looks at you up and down once again, causing the heat to rise to your cheeks— this time, at a new intensity. "Yeeeesh, I gotta say, you look fine, 'lil mama." He smirks. Cause yes, that dress falls along your curves, your body, so beautifully. That dress pushes up your tits so nicely.

And that dress hugs the curves of your ass so, so perfectly.

"Wooyoung." You whine a bit before playfully [and very softly] punching his bicep.

"Ah—" He laughs, holding out his arm for you to take. "I'm just being honest as your date."

"You're making me shy."

"Am I?" He looks down at you with another shit-eating smirk. "What else can I do in the next few hours?" You squeeze his bicep as you enter through the back door, greeting familiar faces. To your surprise [or not], Wooyoung immediately introduces himself as your date and Jiwoo's brother, causing your colleagues and everyone around you to hype you both up as a good-looking couple. You don't even know how to respond besides a 'thank you,' letting Wooyoung take on most of the work with his 'yeah, i know we do's' or 'i know, she's just a little shy about it though's.'

"Shoulda left 30 minutes earlier." Jiwoo says, pulling you into a hug before Hongjoong follows suit. "The baddie herself has finally arrived!"

"Shoulda left on time 30 minutes later." Wooyoung retorts, still properly hugging his sister and greeting Hongjoong.

"Time to catch up!" Jiwoo raises her glass and taps it. "The wine is pretty good, can't complain."

"Coming from the person who likes Svedka Vodka."

"Hey! It's cheap and does the job quick!"

"That's why my bar closed a long time ago for you." Wooyoung winces before turning to you. "Wanna go find the right wine for you to sip on?"

"Charcuterie board was just replenished, too!" Jiwoo yells, just as she watches her brother hold your hand and lead you into the winery. "It's so weird to see him doing all that with her."

"Well, he is her date." Hongjoong says with a laugh, sipping on his wine while he holds her by the waist. "He's taking good care of her. Let 'em enjoy it tonight, hm? Just like we will." He hums as she giggles, placing a kiss on her temple before whisking her away to the other finger foods that were just set out.

As you approach the table with endless different wine bottles set on the surface, you keep yourself close to Wooyoung especially with how packed the room has gotten. Wooyoung sets himself in between a red wine, a white wine and a bottle filled with some sort of pink-ish liquid, his hands grabbing two wine glasses and setting them down on the edge of the table.

"There's so much wine."

"Yup. It's nice that you don't have to pay for a dime. These things get costly."

"Which one is good?"

"Hm, let me check. I've heard of this winery but I've never tasted their wine before." He says as you continue to keep close behind him, looking over his shoulder. He picks up the bottle of red wine and takes it to his nose. "This smells hella bitter." Wooyoung says, smelling the red wine. "You probably won't like this one." He sets it back down and picks up the bottle of white wine. "Chardonnay might not be too bad." He pours a bit in his glass and hands it to you. "Taste it." You take the white wine into your mouth and make a face. "No?"

"Kinda bitter still."

"That's okay." He laughs and points to the pink bottle. "That might be good! Can never go wrong with Rosé. Wanna try it?"

"Can you taste it first?" Wooyoung nods, pouring himself some rosé— enough for a little sip. He nods in approval, shifting his attention back to you.

"It's good! You'll like it. I'll pour you a bit again and you can let me know if you want more or not." You nod. He hands you the glass, watching intently as you take a sip and nod in approval.

"Oh, this is good!"

"Yeah? Glad you like it." He pours some more in your glass, a little more heavy-handed than you like but you'll go along with it for tonight.

"What're you gonna drink?"

"I'm just gonna take some of this Cabernet and babysit it for the night." He reaches over to grab another bottle of red wine a couple of buckets away. He pours himself about half a glass before he's sipping it and humming in approval himself. "Yeah, that's pretty good." He sets his glass out, giving you the opportunity to taste his wine of choice. You take a little sip, shaking your head after giving him his glass back.

"Yeah, no." He laughs.

"It's okay. Red wine is tough to work with. At least we found you some good rosé, though. You gotta take those drinks for the both of us."

"Just one glass will do."

"Mm, a couple sounds better, though." He teases, lacing his hand back with yours as you both walk towards Jiwoo and Hongjoong, sharing a table with your other coworker and.. Yeosang.

"Y/N?" Yeosang looks up at you in confusion, and it almost breaks your heart the way he looks at you. You catch his eyes dart from you to your hand that's currently intertwined with Wooyoung's. "Wooyoung."

"What's up." Is all Wooyoung says as he looks at him over the edge of his glass, taking another sip.

"It's nice to see you—" Yeosang pauses and looks at you; you can't help but give him a pursed smile in return. "Together?"

"Mmyeah—"

"I see you went with the rosé! Nice choice!" Jiwoo cuts in, giving you a look to go along with it. "It's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. We tried the others, wasn't a fan of them."

"They can get kinda strong." She says, downing the rest of the Chardonnay in her glass. "Welp, it's a good thing we have refills right at the table! Seems like we're gonna need it." She pours herself more Chardonnay before pouring you a bit more rosé.

"Jiwoo! I haven't even finished the first glass yet!"

"It was getting warm, you needed the refill." She smirks. You squint your eyes at her before briefly scanning the table, Yeosang now occupied with your coworker. He doesn't seem to want to make eye contact with you any time soon, and that particular unsettling feeling hits you in the gut. You're scared you've already ruined your friendship for pulling this stunt, for not being honest in the first place. You're scared you might've lost your other bestfriend because you were too busy hiding.

"Good?" Wooyoung leans forward to look at you, his soft eyes trailing over your features. He can already sense the shift in your mood and he doesn't want you to start overthinking and getting in your head, especially tonight.

"I think so."

"You sure? Got my good socks on." He points down to his boots. You smile at his reminder and it instantly eases him.

"I'm sure." He nods, slipping his arm behind you to rest on the back of your chair. Luckily, the CEO kicks off the dinner portion of the evening. He starts off his speech that lasts about a good minute, thanking everyone for their hardwork and dedication this point in the year. Once finished, he calls on a table to begin lining up for dinner. You, Wooyoung, Jiwoo, Hongjoong, Yeosang and your other coworker patiently fall in line for the buffet-style catering. Wooyoung makes sure to slip in behind you, creating a barrier between you and Yeosang even if there's no obvious hostility. It does help knowing he's creating some distance and you appreciate him for it. You fill your plate with a good scoop of food before settling back down in your seat.

The table enjoys dinner; thankfully, everyone is in good spirits and is cracking jokes despite the awkward moment that fell between you and Yeosang earlier. Even if he was upset, he'd never show you [or anyone] how he was truly feeling, and that could very well become an issue, too.

When it's time for the dance portion, Jiwoo fills your glass along with hers. Even though you had eaten a good amount of food, the alcohol was quick to seep back into your system and loosen you up. But, even with the liquid courage, you couldn't help but still feel shy around her brother.

He just looked so good tonight, you were afraid of looking like a damn fool in front of him.

In your favor, all Wooyoung cares about is making sure you have a good time. He can see how much you're trying to hold back, even when Jiwoo drunkly throws her arm around you and starts vibing to the music. At some point, the crowd splits you and Wooyoung from Hongjoong and Jiwoo, leaving you to your date to enjoy you all to himself. The DJ starts spinning familiar songs from the 90s, bringing a huge smile on Wooyoung's face.

"Come here." He says, pulling you closer to him as you dance around with him. "It's just me. Don't worry about anything or anyone else." He gives you a reassuring look, his hands loosely laced with yours. You start to feel more comfortable with his reassurance, singing and dancing along with Wooyoung. You find yourself laughing and playfully teasing Wooyoung when he shows off his dance moves and pulls you along into his shenanigans. Your worries seem to be a distant thought at this point, no longer being concerned about every little thing, every little detail.

You're having tons of fun with Wooyoung. You're no longer trying to control what can't be controlled, letting the night take care of the rest on its own.

In between, Jiwoo ends up finding you in the crowd, shoving more rosé your way to get you at a good drunk. And sure as hell, the trick works. Wooyoung finds himself smiling in pure adoration over you, letting you lazily wrap your arms around his neck while singing along to the songs and keeping you close—

Until there's a shift in the air and you feel the liquid courage finally kicking in the way it should.

Wooyoung takes your hand and turns you around, a hand resting on your hip as you dance against him. You don't even care that you've backed yourself up against him and are dancing on him the way you are, thoroughly enjoying how he grips your hips and pulls you flush against him.

It's a little much for someone like you, but you find that it gets you going. Almost has your brain going on overdrive, fixating on the fact that Wooyoung has you like this— wants you like this.

You continue to dance against him, loving the way he holds you and keeps up with your rhythm perfectly. It goes on for a few more songs, Wooyoung shifting to the side to get a good look and hype you up. He's had his fair share of dancing with women at clubs, but he can say hands down, he has never had as much fun as he did tonight. You didn't dance like you were out to prove yourself or something to anyone, to forcefully catch his attention or be someone you're not for all the wrong reasons— you just danced to have fun with him, trusted him to take care of you and help you loosen up. It was all genuine fun and good vibes; he's at the point of wishing the night would never end just so he could stay right here with you.

There is literally no care in the world; just you and Wooyoung, enjoying each other's company at this summer party you didn't even wanna go to. In the end, you're glad you ended up here with Wooyoung because it truly was one of the best nights you've had in such a long time.

"Woo." You turn, tired from all the dancing you've been doing with your handsome date.

"Yeah, babygirl?"

"I gotta pee." He snorts.

"You should definitely break the seal if you wanna start sobering up."

"I should, huh?" He laughs and nods.

"I'll wait out here for you, okay?"

"Mmkay." You part from him and it almost aches you to leave him for a second to relieve yourself. The need to pee becomes urgent, your feet rushing you along to the bathroom for a release. Good thing there isn't a line, and that the bathrooms are practically empty— you can sigh away in peace before washing your hands and freshening up a bit. You're excited to get back to Wooyoung, and it shows with the way you giddily pace out of the bathroom and down the hall—

Only to be stopped in the process by none other than your other bestfriend, Kang Yeosang.

You turn and find him there, a small smile plastered on his lips. Your heart immediately drops seeing him, and the guilt comes rushing back. You can't help but frown a bit, pursing your lips together before responding properly.

"Yeo, hi." You look at him with doe-eyes and he isn't sure if he should be more upset over the situation or sad. Maybe sad, because it's clear where you stand with him. And it sucks, but what is he to do? If you're happier elsewhere, who is he to prevent you from having that happiness?

"Hey you." He says softly. "I've barely seen you all night."

"Yeah, just been on the dance floor. My feet kinda hurt now that I think about it." He chuckles a bit.

"Sounds like you're having a good time."

"Um, yeah. Yeah." You repeat. "It's been good. Hope you're having a good night?"

"Can't complain, I guess?" There's a pause before you break the silence.

"Yeo, I'm sorry. It all happened last minute, I really wasn't trying to go but Jiwoo asked her brother and—"

"It's okay, seriously. It's fine. You don't have to explain." He says waving it off, probably trying to make it seem like it's not a big deal when yeah, maybe it isn't. But, you know he's still hurt. You know he still feels a hint of betrayal by the way this all went down— for saying no, for turning down the party, for not telling him you were all of a sudden gonna be here with Jiwoo's brother. For brushing his feelings under the rug.

"Is it?" You ask, still pretty drunk. If this were any other circumstance, you'd probably run away and hide.

"Uh, yeah, it will be." Yeosang shrugs, unsure of what to say because he is sad about it, now that he truly thinks about it and lets the situation settle in his head.

"I'm sorry." Is all you say as a small frown builds on your lips. Just as you're about to turn to get back to Wooyoung, Yeosang catches your wrist and gently tugs you back. You look up at him, eyes full of curiosity as to why he's holding you back. You're scared for what's to come next, but you give him the opportunity to tell you whatever it is anyway.

"Maybe we can talk about this over dinner? Just me and you?" And as much as you should stand your ground and say no, you can't help but feel like you owe it to him. Maybe this would be it— the doorway to being honest, to telling him the truth. Maybe you two could have a good, friendly dinner and get past this without ruining what's already there; as friends.

As for Wooyoung, he sees the whole thing with Yeosang. He can't help but watch, either. His eyes were scanning the crowd tough, a little too eager to have you back in his arms on the dance floor. When he finally caught your figure, your dress, standing in the main hall talking to Yeosang, he felt his heart drop. He's not sure what's going on, can't really make sense of what's being exchanged between the two of you. Yeosang still hasn't let go of your wrist, but Wooyoung catches you nodding before he does. Whatever it was, he's hoping you aren't hurt or anything along those lines.

"Hi." You smile toothlessly at him and he has the sudden urge to cup your cheeks, to pull you into his arms and hold onto you. At least you're smiling at him, that's all he could ask for.

"Hey." He smiles back. "I almost thought the toilet swallowed you." You laugh and shake your head.

"What if it did?"

"Then I'd have to go in there and save you, right? Who would I be if I didn't?" He holds out his hand as the next song plays, a little bit of that Jon B. with his They Don't Know. "Mm, I really like this song. Can we head back to the dance floor? I mean, if you don't wanna it's fine but please don't make me slow dance by myself." You giggle, taking his hand and letting him lead you back to the dance floor. He gently wraps his arms around you while you wrap your arms around his neck, his hands firmly keeping you pressed close to him.

"Wooyoung."

"Mhm?" He maintains eye contact with you as you sway to the song, following along to the beat.

"Thank you. For tonight. I've had a lot of fun."

"I'm glad. That's all I wanted." He smirks. "Assuming I'll get a free ride to next year's party, too?" You laugh.

"We'll see."

"No seriously though, I'm glad you had fun."

"I did. I really did." You tilt your head ever so slightly and the lighting from the string lights, the moon, hits you perfectly in this angle that Wooyoung feels his heart skip. The highlighter on your collarbone provides an extra layer of glow to everything about you and he honestly doesn't know how to act right now. You feel his hand gently rub at your lower back, his eyes moving from your nose, down to your lips. You catch his Adam's apple bob in an attempt to swallow this sudden nervousness down.

And you could be wrong, you don't really know what's going on in his head and vice versa. But, the moment his face starts edging towards yours, you can't help but follow his motions. In a sudden turn of events, you find yourself wanting, even needing to kiss him; you really hope to—

"If I didn't know any better, it actually looks like you two like each other a lot annnnd iono about all that." Jiwoo says, carrying the rosé bottle in her hand while Hongjoong tries to tug her away. Wooyoung rolls his eyes and tries to move you two away in tiny steps, fighting the annoyance within him when his sister [of course] butted in at a very pivotal moment. Cause yeah, he would've kissed you, and he would've genuinely enjoyed it. He wanted this, too. "Babe, I got the bottle. Open up—"

"Baby." Hongjoong says. "Stop, put it down. Let's go! Leave them alone!"

"Jiwoo, the hell. Are you trying to poison her?! She's good." Wooyoung says lowly with his brows furrowed, subtly brushing his sister off.

"Ew, fun police!" She looks at both Wooyoung and Hongjoong.

"Can you like, get yourself together? What's fun about drowning my date in rosé?"

"All of a sudden he cares." She snorts.

"Baby—sorry, sorry." Hongjoong has a sympathetic expression on his face while looking at you two. "I got this." Hongjoong whisks her away and grabs the bottle, successfully placing it down on another table before bringing her to get water.

"Jiwoo." You laugh, resting your head against Wooyoung's cheek, his grip on you only tightening as you softly sway back and forth to the music.

"Literally couldn't have been the worst time."

"It's okay. Hongjoong's got her now."

"Sorry." He says, placing a gentle, feathery kiss to your cheek. "Just know that was not how I wanted that to play out." He rubs at your sides as you giggle, continuing to slow dance with Wooyoung under the starlit sky.

When the event officially concludes, the CEO and leadership team come back to the stage to thank everyone for the successful event, wishing everyone safe travels back home. Jiwoo runs to you and hugs you, asking if you had fun tonight. You tell her that you did and that you owe it to her and her brother for all of it. She laughs, happy everything turned out well and that her brother took good care of you.

"Take care of her." Jiwoo glares at Wooyoung while Hongjoong chuckles to the side and shakes his head.

"Okay, go."

"I mean it."

"I do, too!"

"Babe, text me when this big head brings you home. I might not answer though cause I'll be at Joong's but still—" You nod, completely ignoring what she's insinuating.

"Ew, no one fucking asked Jiwoo. Just go." Wooyoung mumbles under his breath, giving her a look. Your eyes widen when you feel Wooyoung slip his hand into yours and grip it tightly, leading you through the crowd of people building around the back of the winery saying their goodbye's. You both head into the car with ease, giving Wooyoung the opportunity to catch a minute before driving off.

"Hm, how do you feel right now?" Wooyoung spreads in his seat, scrolling through his phone.

"I'm fine."

"Not too tired?"

"Not really."

"Still kinda tipsy?"

"Still kinda tipsy." You reaffirm and he chuckles.

"Wanna get some food and hang out somewhere? No pressure. Can take you home if that's what you prefer."

"Um, yeah sure! Let's go."

"Yeah?" He smiles and buckles up, shifting the gear to drive. "Sick. I know just the place to get you some good snacks."

Said place ends up being a convenience store nearby that has the best egg sandwiches, spicy tuna onigiri, and Wooyoung's favorite grab n' go corndogs.

You enjoy the experience nonetheless. Wooyoung parks his car right at the front of the store, helping you hop out of the car before slipping his hand in yours. It almost feels way too natural for two people who were merely attending a party together as acquaintances, [per Choi San] but Wooyoung likes the way your hand feels in his. The way it fits perfectly, and how you seem to put all your trust in him this way. He shuffles towards the back and tosses a few things into the basket you're holding with your other arm, giggling when he debates between a regular corndog or a flaming hot cheeto corndog.

"I don't want my ass to be on fire though, so." He says out loud in the very empty convenience store.

"Wooyoung!" You whisper, more embarrassed on his behalf than himself.

"I'm just saying Y/N, sometimes that shit is outta my control. I don't want it to be one of those nights." You laugh as he looks into the basket. "Is that all you want? A corndog?"

"Mhm. I'm still pretty full."

"Okay then." He takes the items to the register and quickly pays for it, giving you zero chance to slide in some cash. He smirks when he grabs the bag and heads back to the car, letting you know that he'd never let you pay anyway.

The drive to Wooyoung's endpoint is about 20 minutes away from the store, and up a dark hill. If it had been any other situation, it would've looked incredibly scary and suspicious. But since it's Wooyoung, you trust him wholeheartedly to bring you somewhere you'd enjoy.

"It gets better, okay. I know what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?" You squeak.

"You're probably wondering why my punkass is taking you up a dark hill. I promise the view up there is worth it. You trust me, yeah?"

"I do. Don't disappoint me, Jung Wooyoung."

"Nah, never that." He takes you further up the curvy road, finally pulling into a small lot off to the side. There aren't any other cars parked besides Wooyoung's, so it makes it easy for him to back into the spot. He leaves enough space to pop open the trunk freely, allowing you two to sit and enjoy the sideview of the city. "Careful." He says, bringing you to the trunk and making sure you're seated comfortably before grabbing the snacks. He plops into the space next to you and hands you your corndog, the both of you indulging in your snacks in pure silence.

"There's a path down there. You get a better view of the city." He covers his mouth while chewing on his corndog.

"Hm." You hum, looking up at the sky. "The stars are so bright tonight."

"I know, I don't remember the last time I've seen so many stars." Wooyoung points to the right. "Look! There's the big dipper." You chomp on your corndog as you look up to where he's pointing at.

"No, it's not?"

"Y/N. Please. That's the big dipper."

"I'm looking! I don't see it." He scoots closer and points again. At this point, Wooyoung is only inches away from your face. If you were to turn at the wrong time, you'd land a kiss on his lips unintentionally.

"There!" He says. Lo and behold, Wooyoung's right. You finally see the shape of the big dipper up ahead, even if you're slightly distracted with Wooyoung's face being in such close proximity again.

"Okay, you're right. I see it, I'll give that to you." You respond with a tiny smile.

"Haven't seen one in a long time." He smiles proudly before digging into his other snacks and powering through them. Wooyoung doesn't even move away from you after showing you the big dipper, but you aren't complaining. You've come to learn that you enjoy having him near, close. "You're done eating?" You nod, tossing your trash into the bag.

"Mhm." You hum contently. "Wooyoung." He looks at you with a brow cocked up, shoving the last bit of the onigiri in his mouth. He shouldn't like the way you say his name so softly, so delicately, but he does. Especially after tonight, he really, really does.

"Yeah?"

"I wanna walk down the path and look at the view." You stand and start walking towards the path, where it'll take you to a beautiful view of the city.

"Wait, hold up!" He says, grabbing his jacket and locking up his car. "Why does she walk so fast? Miss Quicksilver." He mumbles to himself. When he catches up to you, you feel him drape his jacket over your shoulders before coming to your side. "It's getting kinda chilly out." You look up at him with a small smile on your face, hugging the jacket closely around your frame.

"Thank you."

"Course." He holds out his hand. "It's dark, let me lead the way? You've got your pretty heels on and everything. You sure you wanna do this?"

"Yeah, please?" Wooyoung almost buckles at the knees when he hears you plead the way you do, instantly locking hands while he walks in front to lead the way. You stay close to him, especially when the path has lower visibility than you expected. He tightens the grip on your hand, carefully navigating around the bushes along the way. When he finally reaches the end and brings you to the view, you take a few steps forward toward the edge of the overlook. There's a small board off to the side that outlines the history of the city ahead and when the overlook was created. You let go of Wooyoung's hand completely to rest on the edge, taking in the city lights. The crisp night air. The sound of the stream nearby. You rest your elbows on the stone, chin resting on the palms of your hands. Wooyoung smiles to himself as he admires you from behind, coming right by your side to enjoy the view. "It's so pretty."

"Yeah, it is."

"The crickets are loud. Kinda soothing to listen to, though."

"Louder than Jiwoo, that's for sure." You laugh, continuing to look at the view.

"How'd you know about this spot, Woo? Do you take girls here on dates?"

"God, no. I just come here to chill when I need to get my mind together. I don't really share this spot with anyone." He rests his chin on your head and you don't budge, appreciating the extra body heat from behind.

"You shared it with me."

"That's cause I genuinely wanted to take you here. I know you'd appreciate it."

"Can I start coming here, too?" You look up at him with a smile.

"Only if you let me tag along." Wooyoung teases. "I am heavily equipped with the exact location details and everything."

"Mmkay, fair enough." You let out a content sigh. "I wonder what everyone's doing in the city. What their stories are like and what's happening in their lives right now. Do you ever think about stuff like that?"

"I do."

"It's crazy to think about, isn't it? Being in one place at the same time with all these people, filled with millions of different stories."

"It is." You look at the view with a small pout and Wooyoung feels his knees getting weaker over that damn pout. "Anyway." You turn to look at Wooyoung, who is very much still staring down at you in adoration. "What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"What, can I not? You're just really cute, shit, sue me." You roll your eyes playfully before a yawn comes out, and Wooyoung frowns a bit.

"Yikes." You say just as you shake off the yawn.

"Tired?"

"Mm, it's hitting me now."

"The post-drunk crash." He sighs, cupping your cheeks and looking into your eyes. "Come on, let's get you home."

"What if—" You cover another yawn again. "I don't wanna?" He drops his hands back down before grabbing your hand, slowly trailing back to the car.

"Then babygirl, I dunno. I definitely do not recommend sleeping out here, though." He jokes. He could technically take you back home and do all the things he would normally do if this were any other circumstance, any other person. He could have you right where he wants you and have you stay the night.

But, he won't.

He won't do that to you because that's not what you are to him. You aren't just a body, and you aren't a temporary thing. On top of that, he probably should sort through his feelings, his emotions because he's not sure what the fuck he's been feeling all night; he just knows it's kinda different and kinda alarming for someone like him.

Feels serious, too vulnerable.

"Yeah, I agree." You say sleepily, clinging onto Wooyoung's arm as you walk back to the car.

The ride home is quiet, and exhaustion almost completely consumes your body that you barely realize Wooyoung's thumb gently caressing the surface of your hand. You shouldn't get used to the feeling so much, knowing this is might all be for show especially over a summer party. It hurts to think about, but it's not like Wooyoung willingly wanted to be here. Maybe a small part of him did, but at the end of the day, this was purely a favor for his sister. You didn't think he'd catch feelings over one night, no. It wasn't in his nature to. You didn't expect that whatsoever, either. But, you also couldn't help but feel things after the way he treated you tonight. After the way he took care of you so, so well.

Was it wrong to feel infatuated? Was it wrong to feel happy, giddy, after the time you shared? Being in close proximity all evening, sharing little subtle affectionate moments together?

The voice in your head tells you yes, and that you should know better than to think it'd last past this night.

You are you, and Wooyoung is Wooyoung.

"Y/N?" Wooyoung softly taps your thigh. You turn to face him, recognizing the awfully familiar neighborhood behind him. You had been deep in your thoughts, along with the mix of exhaustion, that you didn't know you've already made it home. "Thought you fell asleep. We're here."

"Already?" You give him a tiny, soft smile that he reciprocates before running to your side and helping you out of the car.

"You don't have to walk me."

"Y/N, please. Don't start spitting out nonsense." He says, unbuckling his seatbelt and running over to your door. He tucks a hand into his pocket while waiting for you to step out, shutting it gently behind you. He walks you up the steps to your studio, silently trailing behind even as you fiddle with your keys to open your door. Once you get it open, you turn to him with that angelic smile he's mesmerized by, causing him to smile in return.

"Hope you had a good time tonight."

"I did. I really, really did. Thank you for.. you know? Accompanying me and what not. Everything, really."

"It was fun." He pulls you into a hug, squeezing you gently. When he pulls away, he keeps an arm wrapped around your neck, planting a kiss on your temple. It lights a fire within you, the heat rising to your cheeks when he pulls back and looks down at you. "Get some sleep, okay?"

"You too. Drive safely." You feel the need to reciprocate the kiss somehow, and it doesn't help that Wooyoung lingers around for a second— mainly to make sure you make it inside your studio. With all your thoughts, you still find yourself reasoning with the giddiness you're feeling. You find the courage to tippy-toe and place a chaste kiss on his cheek, rushing into your studio with a soft: "Goodnight!" before shutting the door. Wooyoung silently laughs to himself as he digs his hands into his pocket, nibbling on his bottom lip to prevent himself from smiling too big at the action.

But, his heart is damn near beating out of his chest, another thing that feels pretty unfamiliar but familiar at the same time. The only thing he knows for certain is that it probably can't be good for him—

To feel this way. Forcing himself to walk away from your studio after spending a good evening together. To want to call you even though he's just in his car downstairs. To keep you company until the next morning.

After all, you were starting to feel more than just a favor to him.

Those feelings can't be good for him.

—TAGLIST: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @heyitsmetonid @ldysmfrst @intaksfav

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digital-domain · 6 months

Text

Clean Slate

Part Two to Spring Cleaning

Alastor x Reader // word count 3.1k

In which new clothes are illicitly obtained, and quickly disposed of

Tags/warnings: yandere, invasion of privacy, power imbalance, stripping/nudity, Alastor is definitely watching you sleep

A/N: god, part twos are hard to write. But the people of ao3 asked, so you, the people of tumblr, get to share in their (dubious) reward

True to his promise, Alastor did not leave your closet standing empty. When you woke up this morning, it was already full, the wardrobe you’d collected over the course of your year in hell displaced and forgotten. You wrinkled your nose in distaste when you saw that a large portion of the space was occupied by dresses, none of which fell above the knee. Those, you were sure you would never wear. But there were other options. You donned the least offensive - a pair of black trousers and a soft, slightly oversized red sweater - and felt almost like yourself when you looked in the mirror.

In the drama of last night, Alastor had skipped over the rest of the small drawers of your dresser, so at the very least, you still had your own socks and the rest of your undergarments. The shoes lined haphazardly along the floor of your closet had been replaced by stiff, polished black flats, slip-on pumps, and other things that looked as uncomfortable as they did unfashionable, but he hadn’t noticed the pair sneakers that lay beneath your bed. You felt a strange thrill as you put them on, like you were getting away with something forbidden.

And then, you thought, why stop there?

Alastor tends to keep his distance from you during the day. You do see him, of course - it’s not as if you can avoid him, living in the same building - but he barely speaks to you, unless you happen to be the only two people in the room. He doesn’t seem to like the idea of sharing your company with others, or letting anyone else see the two of you together. It means that outside of your bedroom, you still have your freedom. On this particular morning, you’ve decided to use that freedom to walk out the front door. Alastor is in the lobby, and you tense slightly when you see him, but he doesn’t so much as glance in your direction. At least, not while you’re looking at him. You swear that you can feel his eyes on your back as you exit the building. But that could just be your own paranoia. It’s been very strong as of late.

You don’t know exactly where you’re going. Just that you want to end up somewhere he wouldn’t want you to go. There are plenty of places like that in Hell. Arcades, electronics stores, smoke shops that sell harder drugs out of their back rooms, bars that don’t know how to make a proper old-fashioned…you certainly have plenty of options. But of course, in the end, you find yourself at a clothing store. Not a lingerie store - that entire concept has been ruined for you, for the time being - but still not a place he’d ever visit himself. Everything here is casual, comfortable, unpolished. The opposite of your new wardrobe.

You select a soft, unassuming pair of gray sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt. When you pay for them, you decline the branded paper bag, instead choosing to stuff them into the canvas one you’ve brought with you. Once you make it back to the hotel, and into your room, without alerting any suspicion, you’re relieved. You take the bundle of cloth out of the bag, and stuff it under your pillow. You’re not stupid enough to wear them during the day, but they’ll be perfect to sleep in. The slip you woke up wearing lays crumpled in an invisible corner of your closet. You’d like to forget about its existence, but you don’t dare try to destroy it.

You don’t see Alastor for the rest of the day. He doesn’t visit your room. This isn’t unheard of; his appearances have become more frequent over the past several weeks, but there are times when two, or even three precious days go by without a trace of him. Once it’s late enough, past the time when he might call on you, you change into your contraband. It’s nothing special, nothing particularly flattering, but when you look in the mirror, you smile. When you crawl into bed, you’re almost at ease. Last night, it took you a very long time to fall asleep, but tonight, it comes almost instantly.

It does not last.

You wake up, and know immediately that it is nowhere near morning. You’re on your side, facing the wall, and you fight the impulse to roll over and check the time. You’re still half-asleep. You don’t want to move.

But you do. And once you do, the time no longer matters. The exhaustion bolts from your body. You’d like to bolt along with it, but you only manage to half-sit up, swinging one arm defensively over your body.

You are not alone.

This shouldn’t be happening. There are clear, unspoken rules to Alastor’s appearances - only when you’re alone, never past 10pm, never when you’re in the bathroom that adjoins your room. And yet, he is here. You can see his smile and his eyes far too clearly. It’s unnatural, the way they shine in the dark.

“I apologize for the late arrival, my dear. It’s been quite a busy day.”

You don’t believe him for a moment. “What do you want?” You’d like to scream at him to get out, but you can’t imagine that would end well.

“Do I have to want something to visit you?” He’s nowhere near the switch by your door, but the light still flickers, a shock to your eyes. It’s quickly extinguished, plunging you back into the dark. “Perhaps I merely enjoy your company.”

His hand is curled tightly around his staff. It’s another wrong thing about this image - he usually doesn’t have that, when he visits you. Your fingers brace against your sheets. You know why he’s here. He knows, somehow, about your little act of rebellion. How he knows…oh. You don’t want to think about that.

“I don’t expect you to return the compliment,” he murmurs, “but you could at least temper that awful glare in your eyes. It’s almost making me want to look away from you.” As he says this, he leans closer, bending at the waist until his unblinking eyes are mere inches from your own. “I always make an effort to control my unpleasant feelings. If I didn’t, I might make you uncomfortable.”

You can’t imagine feeling any less comfortable than you do now, with that terrible grin glowing before you. Your eyes are still adjusting to the darkness, but you get the feeling that he can see you with perfect clarity.

He straightens up, and uses the tip of his staff to flick back your covers, revealing the clothes you’re wearing underneath. “You must have thought so little of me,” he sighs, “to expect to get away with such a thing.”

You fail to catch your breath before it gasps out of you. He doesn’t sound angry, but you’ve learned that the tone of his voice is a poor indicator for how he’s truly feeling. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes cast down. There’s nothing else to say. You purse your lips, and wait.

“I’ve tried so hard with you,” he continues, as if he hasn’t heard you at all. “I’ve been so patient. And just when I thought I was getting somewhere, you decided to act out.” The tip of his staff catches on the hem of your t-shirt, and you instinctively tug the fabric away.

It’s the wrong thing to do. His grin freezes on his face, its appearance now closer to a grimace than anything else. He rests the end of his staff heavily on the curve of your waist - you stiffen, and raise your hand as if to shove it aside, but quickly think better of it.

“An excellent decision,” he purrs. “I knew you had some sense. I’ve worked very hard to instill it in you, after all. I was just starting to be impressed by your progress…but it appears that there’s still quite a lot of work to be done.” His eyes flash, momentarily glowing an even brighter red, cutting through the darkness between you. “Stand up.”

He withdraws his staff, and although you want nothing more than to pull your covers over your head and pretend this isn’t happening, you instead feel yourself rising to your feet.

“Well done.” His voice is quiet as he steps forward. He’s not touching you - his hands are pulled behind his back, as they often are when he’s close to you. But you can hear his breath, make out every detail of his face despite the absence of light. “I detest being upset with you. I detest that these little things upset me at all. But it seems there’s nothing I can do about that. So.” He leans forward, and smiles indulgently. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s fix this little problem you’ve created, shall we?” His head tilts a bit further than would be natural for anyone else. “If you take those ridiculous things off, we can put all of this nonsense behind us.”

You instinctively take a half-step backwards, only to awkwardly shuffle your foot back to where it was before. The thought of changing back into the slip he gave you makes you shudder, as does the thought of how he might react when he sees you pull it from the floor of your closet, hideously wrinkled. Still, you find yourself nodding in agreement. “Now?”

“Now.” His control over his tone is beginning to waver - his volume oscillates, voice frays with harsh static.

“The slip…” Your voice is small, in stark contrast with the angered scream you were preparing to release just moments before. “It’s in my closet. I can go”-

Alastor abruptly flicks his staff upwards, turning it into a barrier between you and your closet door. “That won’t be necessary.” You feel very small, all of a sudden. You can’t quite tell whether it’s just the way he’s standing, or if he’s truly taller than he was a moment before. There’s an awful cracking noise - his head drops, neck contorts until he’s staring at you from a truly impossible angle. “You ought to listen when I speak to you, my dear.”

The way he says this now, it might as well be a curse. It propels you back, your feet moving of their own accord. But of course, the backs of your legs quickly hit the side of your mattress, leaving you feeling even more trapped than before. For a moment, you’re grasping at stray thoughts, trying to figure out exactly what you did wrong -

Oh. He didn’t say anything about the slip, did he? That was where you jumped in your head. But what he actually said -

Your breath catches, fists clench. You don’t want to be right. You can’t be right - he’s awful, but he wouldn’t make you do that -

“Hm.” Seeing your panicked response seems to calm him somewhat. He straightens, takes a deep breath. The terrible grin seems to shrink just a fraction. When he speaks again his voice sounds just as it always does, rolling off his tongue with the pleasant crackle of long-dead airwaves. “A delightful reaction, as always.” He shakes his head slightly, shiftily glances aside. His gaze returns to you, and there’s that familiar spark, the excitement that you’ve come to fear. “Now…” The tip of his staff catches once more beneath the hem of your shirt, and this time, you don’t even consider brushing it aside. “Off.”

What is wrong with you? You don’t know. You should have something to say, something to yell, a fist or a kick or a back to turn on him. Instead, you only manage a moment of inaction before casting your eyes down and pulling your t-shirt over your head, discarding it on the floor at your feet. You were wearing nothing beneath it. The blood rushes to your face so quickly that you imagine he can see it flowing beneath your bare skin. You can feel it, almost as intensely as you can feel his eyes burning into your face.

Your face, which you slowly, foolishly raise to look up at him.

His eyes do not wander. He is staring, yes, but at your expression more than anything else. His gaze is fixed and impassive, with much less appreciation than the night before, when you were clothed in the modest garment he’d conjured. There’s something in his eyes - vindication, perhaps - but nothing more than that, even now. His hands are behind his back, and show no signs of stirring.

“Go on.”

He’s certainly enjoying this. But not for any reason that makes sense to you. In his mind, you think, this is fair. To make you regret what you’ve done, in the cruelest, most humiliating way possible - to him, there’s nothing wrong with it. You should have been good. Then, this all could have been avoided.

Is that what you think? That this is your fault? You’re not sure. You don’t want to think about it. You move mechanically, sliding your fingers between your underwear and your waistband, tugging your sweatpants down your legs and nearly losing your balance as you step out of them.

“Well done.” He says this, just as you stumble, just before you catch yourself, and it’s so condescending that you’re seeing red. But it’s not like you can say anything about it. You seem to have lost your ability to speak entirely. “Now. If you can manage it, I would prefer for you to look at me, instead of at your floor.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your lip. Your arms are hanging at your sides. You cross them as you look up, but a gentle glove on your wrist sends them falling. You’re glaring, but it must appear more petulant than anything else, because he only laughs when he sees it.

“Just one more thing, my dear.” He leans forward, strokes one finger over the thin cotton that clings to your hip. His touch is so light that you can barely feel it, but it’s still enough to instantly tense every muscle in your body, to straighten out any slack that was left in the posture of your spine. “These didn’t come from me either, did they?”

You shudder, and set your jaw. Speak through barely parted lips. “No.”

“Don’t look away,” he murmurs. “You’ve nothing to fear, so long as you behave yourself.” He waits patiently until you force yourself to look into his eyes. They’re shining, and his grin, too, is far too bright, a lurid yellow gash in the dark. “If I intended to harm you tonight, you would already be well aware of it.”

Where are your hands? You realize that they’re clasped behind your back; the realization sickens you for reasons that you don’t take the time to understand. As if in a trance, you bring them forward, let them fall against your hips. He doesn’t need to say anything more - only to watch as you pry the last scrap of clothing from your body. When you’re done, you stand with your head bowed, praying that he doesn’t ask you to look up again.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t say anything at all. Only sighs, satisfied, and lightly drags the tip of his staff up the side of your body - the outside of your thigh, your waist, your ribcage, your neck - and then presses it gently under your jaw, silently compelling you to raise your head.

You try to summon anger to your eyes, but find that you can only stare blankly, waiting.

“I almost wish I could stay upset with you,” he sighs, letting his staff drop to his side. “It would make things so much less complicated, if I could simply refuse to forgive you…” His chest rises, falls. “And yet, I can barely stomach the thought.” For just a moment, his eyes flutter shut. His fist falls from behind his back to clench at his side. He takes another slow, deep breath. Then, his eyes slowly open, their red light dim and hazy. “No…I couldn’t let you go, even if I tried.”

You’re rigid, feet frozen to the floor as he leans over and kisses you gently on the forehead - he doesn’t touch you anywhere else, but you feel that perhaps you’d prefer that to this. You’d understand it better, at least. You’d understand exactly what you were scared of.

You don’t think he quite understands what he’s doing, either. He looks almost confused, when he pulls back. Rattled, almost as much as you are. But he quickly suppresses it, the daze in his eyes replaced with the familiar vicious spark. “You look exhausted, my dear. I would apologize for waking you so suddenly, but I’m afraid it was necessary. I’m sure you understand.”

He stares until you nod in agreement.

“Lovely.” He pauses for a moment, then goes on with a lowered voice. “I’m sure I’ll have no need to do it again.”

Again, you nod mutely. It was a question, and one that you can easily answer.

“I certainly have no need to keep you awake any longer tonight.” He gestures to the mattress behind you. “Time for bed.”

You don’t think you’re going to fall asleep any time soon, but you still reach behind you to awkwardly pull back the covers. You do not turn around.

“Hm… ” His eyes narrow, grin twitches at the corners. “It’s a warm night, my dear. I’m sure you’ll be more comfortable without anything covering you.”

There’s nothing to be done. You sit down, swing your legs over your covers, and lay on your back. Arms at your sides, although you itch to wrap them around yourself. You vaguely register that you are cold, but that barely matters. Perhaps you’re not cold at all. You could be shuddering for any number of reasons.

He leans over you one final time. “Sleep well, darling.” His eyes do not waver from your face. Nor do they blink. You’re not sure if they ever have. “You’re quite a restless sleeper…I do hope that you have better dreams tonight.”

By the time you’ve processed what, exactly, he’s just told you, he has shrunken into the shadows before your eyes, and silently disappeared. You lay stiffly on top of your blankets, and stare up at the ceiling. You do not move, and you certainly do not cover yourself, even as the chill seeps under your skin. When you do fall asleep, hours later, your dreams are cryptic, tinged in a red glow, full of shadows and whispers in voices that are almost familiar, but far too distorted to make out.

When you wake up, you’re shocked to see that your discarded clothes are still lying on the floor. Shocked - but not relieved. It only means that the task of their disposal has been left to you.

#alastor x reader #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #tw yandere #tw invasion of privacy #tw abuse of power

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ponderingmoonlight · 1 year

Note

hiihihi can i request prompt 55 for megumi?? maybe reader texted him late at night and wanted him to sneak into her dorm after curfew? (maybeee gojo caught them a lil while later 👀 only doing rounds cause he was nosy and wanted to snoop lmaoo)

I’m an absolute sucker for Megumi, thank you for this request! It’s a little goofy, kinda got inspired by my dress up darling xD Hope you like it though, please let me know :) 55. "I'm tired. Don't make me angry."

Caught

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: Megumi knows it isn't allowed to visit you after curfew late at night, but the temptation is just too great. However, it is percisely this night that Gojo noticed the both of you and finds you in a rather unfavorable situation.

Warnings: language, mentions of smut, it's getting a little heated

Yo loser, you still awake? 🖤

Stop calling me that, yes I am (y/n).

Wanna come over? I’m bored as hell :(

Not my problem, remember curfew? I don’t want to get into trouble because of you.

You sign at your screen and roll your eyes in annoyance. God, Megumi is such a pain in the ass when it comes to following these stupid rules. You are mature enough to decide on your own when and who you want to visit. And how would they know? All the teachers are sound asleep anyway. Not even Gojo has the nerve to stay alert all night just to make sure that Megumi won’t visit you, right?

You just have to be silent. Shouldn’t be hard for you.

I’m tired. Don’t make me angry (y/n).

Pleeeaaaassseee Megumi, I’m begging on my knees :(

Megumi throws his phone to the side in irritation. Why do you always have to bother him this late at night? Of course his heart beats out of his chest just thinking about seeing you alone, but why does meeting you always bond with getting into trouble?

Still…maybe he is even able to hold you in his arms until the sun begins to rise. He’d ditch sleep a hundred times if it meant that you are by his side. As noiselessly as possible he sits up in bed and glances at Yuji who is breathing peacefully and is keeping his eyes closed. Megumi stands up, puts on his slippers and walks to the door. The girl’s corridor is down the hall, quite a stretch that cannot be explained if someone catches him there. Why does he keep doing things like this for you?

It doesn’t matter. As if in trance his feet carry him to your door. His knuckles brush gently against the hard wood, eyes swaying around in alert.

Your heart skips a beat when you catch a glimpse of him in the dim moonlight. He really came! With a wide grin on your face you grab his hand and pull him into your room.

“Megumi!”, you cry out in excitement.

“Shh, you want everyone to know that I’m here? Maki is next door”, he hisses.

A glimpse of you is enough to make Megumi blush in an instant. You are covered by nothing but an oversized Shirt, your butt just barely covered by it. Are you only wearing underwear underneath this? He always knew and appreciated that you are comfortable around him, but the sight of your naked thighs does thinks to him and lets his mind wander. Why do you have to be so ridiculously attractive anyway?

“Come on, Maki sleeps like a rock and who cares about you being here anyway? Except for me, of course. You can’t even imagine how happy it makes me that you really came”, you shyly admit.

He looks as breathtaking as usual, maybe even better with his loose black sweater that shows off his tight muscles underneath so perfectly. Nothing ever happened between Megumi and you. You’re just friends that meet up late at night and lay in your bed until the sun rises, talking about everything and everyone. Megumi never touched you, never cuddled you, never intertwined his hand with yours. But oh how much you wished he did. Since you joined Jujutsu High alongside him, your feelings for the black-haired boy grew day by day. Now you can’t imagine life without him, your heart starts to dance whenever you see him.

“You know, I just really like your company”, he responses, scratching his head awkwardly and avoiding your gaze.

Your heart skips a beat, face lighting up by the sound of his sweet words. It is rare that he says such things to you, Megumi isn’t the vocal one anyway. Actually you are, but not when it comes to him. He is the only person that lets your outspoken and confident self get soft and all flustered, not even brave enough to give him a hug.

“Wanna lay in bed? You said you were tired.”

Not anymore. Your sight alone is better than the best sleep and wakes him up every time.

“Sure.”

His gaze brushes over your moonlit features as you climb into bed, sliding against the wall and invitingly padding the sheets next to you. It makes him nervous to lay this close to you, knowing that you wear nothing but a shirt and that you are absolutely breathtaking beautiful. His heart almost beats out of his chest when the mattress gives in under his weight and your bare arm brushes against his skin while he lays down. Everything smells so good. He can immediately scent your sweet shampoo on the cushion under his head as well as the delicious fragrance of your body spray that hangs in the air and tingles in his nose. But the sight of your glistering eyes is what sends him over the edge.

“God, you are so beautiful.”

The words escape his mouth faster than he can react, hands covering his mouth in shock. Did he really just say that? Fuck, you must think he is really awkward, that all he thinks about are your good looks.

“I-I mean…You’re pretty smart as well…”, he stutters, face flushing immediately.

A cute little giggle escapes your mouth, cheeks heating up at his sudden outburst. Here and there a few compliments slipped out of Megumi’s mouth and left him all flustered. You adored the blush creeping up his face and the way he always scratched his head awkwardly in silence.

“(y/n), you need to be a little quieter. I don’t want Gojo-sensei to find us here”, he whispers, gaze creeping to the door.

“Don’t worry, he never did!”

Little did you know that Satoru just woke up from his light sleep and your giggling that echoed through the otherwise quiet halls of the dorms. He straightens himself and puts on a pair of sweatpants, a yawn escaping his lips. Why the hell is someone awake this late at night? Putting on his slippers, he leaves his room and roams around.

Another giggle. His eyes narrow. This sounds like you. Why are you giggling? Maybe someone is with you. Gojo doesn’t waste any more time and traces into the girl’s corridor. The ruffling, giggles and muffled voices grow louder as he moves towards your door. That other voice, it sounds so familiar…His eyes widen in surprise. Is that Megumi? What are you doing in there, after curfew alone in your room late at night? Fuck, he didn’t prepare Megumi for any for this. Does he know how this works? Is he using protection? Gojo’s pace picks up in an instant, panic mode completely activated.

“(y/n) and Megumi-chan, I know you’re in there. Get dressed within the next ten seconds”, he announces.

Your eyes widen in pure horror. Fuck, Gojo is here. Why the hell is Gojo here? He never caught you over the span of many months. Why today? Why when Megumi’s arms are this close to you, ready to hug you tightly?

“I told you!”, Megumi hisses through gritted teeth, panic written on his face.

“I’ll lock the door”, you proclaim with determination and lift yourself up.

This will give Megumi enough time to hide somewhere. You frantically swing your leg over his body, almost losing balance on the soft mattress underneath and your body tangled within the blanket in your rush.

“Fuck”, you mutter and search for hold, hands landing on his chest.

Instinctively, his hands grab your hips tightly just in time before you fall onto the ground.

Time stands still, your eyes stare right into Megumi’s ones. You’re sitting on top of him, thighs pressed against his with his big hands resting against your hips, squeezing them. You can feel something twitching underneath you, Megumi’s heartbeat bangs against your hands. Oh god. Is this really happening? All you can do is hold your breath and stare at him, every cell of your body refusing to move.

You sit on top of Megumi Fushiguro.

His hands grab your hips.

You know exactly what is moving beneath you.

“We didn’t even talk about this Megumi-chan, get back into yo- OH MY GODNESS.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gojo entered the room, gaping at the both of you with his mouth wide open and completely frozen in his tracks.

“I-It’s not what it l-looks like…I-I promise!”, you stutter, full panic mode activated.

You stumble off him, body swaying back and forth. Did you really just sit on Megumi? With Gojo catching you mid-action?

Megumi hectically covers his lower body with a blanket, face dripping in sweat, embarrassment and heat. You just sat on him. He got hard and you probably noticed. Gojo saw all of this. He doesn’t know what to think or say anymore, mind completely occupied by what just happened. Did you really sit on him?

“Listen kids, I don’t care about curfew or anything, but please make sure to use protection and be…y’know…quiet.”

Even Gojo stumbles over his words at this point, avoiding gazing at your poorly dressed figure.

“We didn’t do anything. It just looked strange”, Megumi finally speaks out.

You want to be swallowed by the ground and hide in a tiny hole for the rest of your life. Your sensei thinks that you two got intimate. But not only that, it looked like he caught you mid-action. But more important than that…You sat on Megumi and he was very excited about that. Does that mean that he…likes you?

“Sure. Listen, let’s talk about this tomorrow or even better, never again. Just make sure to be quiet…Ehm, have a nice night I guess.”

And with that, Gojo closes the door behind him, leaving the both of you with his fast steps echoing down the hall.

Silence fills the room, you don’t dare to look at Megumi.

“Maybe…You wanna cuddle for a bit? Doesn’t make any difference anymore I guess.”

Your heart skips a beat. Did this words really just left his mouth, the mouth of Megumi Fushiguro, the boy who never even tried to put an arm around you? This night truly just keeps getting crazier.

“Aren’t you worried about what Gojo-sensei thinks?”, you question, face still hot in embarrassment.

“I’ll talk to him in the morning. We don’t have to if yo-“

“No”, you interrupt him immediately.

“I would love to lay in your arms.”

And that’s what you did. His warm arms welcomed and held you tight through the rest of this eventful night, heart still racing uncontrollably.

“I think I like you more than a friend”, you admit into silence, face buried against his chest.

“Me too.”

“Yeah, I noticed that”, you remark before you can stop yourself.

Megumi pushes you off his chest, face red as a tomato almost instantly.

“Can we please just stop talking about that, (y/n)?”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi #jujutsu megumi #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #megumi x reader #fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #jjk fushiguro #fushiguro x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #megumi fluff

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leth-writes · 1 month

Text

Fishbowl

yandere Chrollo x reader

Summary: There's something wrong with your boyfriend. If only you'd figured it out before it was too late.

Warnings: brief discussions of death and serious injuries, nothing is done to the reader!

There’s something wrong with your boyfriend. You’d never really noticed, beyond the slight, subtle signs, but now, sitting in a dingy warehouse with a raving man waving a gun in your face, you don’t really have much else to do except think. And what you think, is that there’s something wrong with Chrollo.

Chrollo’s kind of a weird guy, as much as you love him. He’s pale and quiet, though he often wears that small smirk, especially when he’s correcting some asshole about the pronunciation of some long-dead composer. His skin is so white it’s almost translucent, and he seems to glow in the moonlight, skin taking on an otherworldly quality you hadn’t ever seen outside of the movies. You’d asked multiple times, only half-joking, if he was part-fae. He always said no, though he did laugh and squish your cheeks, calling you adorable.

His eyes were remarkably shallow, though you often attributed that to some unknown trauma he refused to really address. They were a deep, rich black, and when you stared into them it felt like they’d swallow you whole, but there was a noticeable barrier that blocked you from understanding how he was really feeling, what he was really thinking.

His face, free of wrinkles or blemishes, often stayed in a flat, resting expression. He didn’t often show extreme emotion, seemed to avoid it, and stared at you like you were a particularly interesting insect whenever you expressed a strong feeling. It sometimes felt like he didn’t… get your emotions, like he only played along to make you happy, rather than understanding how you felt. It sometimes led to problems, like the time you’d been crying because you got fired (you got accused of sending harsh messages to your coworkers, though your phone showed no such logs), and he’d just chuckled and patted your head like you were a dog.

His hair often framed his face perfectly, slick and choppy like he’d just come from the barber, perfectly accentuated by the grey cloth headband he never took off. You’d asked why he wore it so low, once, only for him to say he had a particularly bad scar. He never offered to show you, and you never asked again. You knew not to press when he’d ended the conversation. It wasn’t like he’d tell you anyways.

He always wore dark pants, usually slacks, contrasting with his wardrobe of soft cashmere sweaters and white dress shirts. He dressed like an office worker, so you assumed he was some higher up at a big company in YorkNew, but Chrollo never answered when you asked. He only replied “It’s not important,” and laughed at the confused expression you’d make.

He loved watching you, like he’d never seen another person before. Sometimes he’d just spend hours watching you read or work, face never falling from a gentle smile as he leant on one hand and crossed his wrinkle-free slack-clad legs, staring at you like you were a new species. He loved watching the muscles move under your skin, tracing them as you lay next to him in bed. Sometimes you’d even wake up to him staring at you in the dark, sitting in a chair he’d surreptitiously brought into the bedroom. He’d always said he was making sure you had good dreams.

You had never met his friends, you didn’t know their names, but he loved telling you about their shenanigans. He’d tell you about his boisterous friend getting drunk and starting fights, his friend with the short bob who was an incredible shot, even his friend obsessed with samurai memorabilia. Yet, he refused to let you actually meet them, or even call them. He knew everything about your friends, even more than you had ever told him. You weren’t sure how, because they couldn’t recall telling him anything. That was before they’d all left you, refusing to hang out if you were still dating Chrollo. They all said he was creepy, that he hated them, that he was dangerous. You’d just thought they disliked him for his upbringing, growing up poor. It was about the only thing he’d ever told you.

Now, you were wishing he’d told you more. You imagined going back to that younger, naive self and agreeing with your friends, breaking up with Chrollo and never looking back. Alas, it was too late. You were stuck, and there was nowhere for you to go. You were stuck in some gross, dark room, with the man who had thrown a bag over your head and shoved you into his trunk. Your ankles and wrists were raw from trying to escape the bonds, but they were tied remarkably tight to the thin metal chair you were placed upon. All you could hope is that your death would be quick, that they’d find your body before it decomposed too much to identify you. You could imagine the terrible reconstruction they’d put on the news, Chrollo being interviewed about how tragic it was you were missing while a new girlfriend hung on his arm.

The man who’d kidnapped you said he was trying to get revenge on Chrollo for taking someone from him, but you couldn’t help but think that he was overestimating how much Chrollo cared for you. Then, the lights went out. The man shouted, though it suddenly cut off, and a sickening crunch resonated and echoed around the warehouse. The lights flicked back on and there stood Chrollo over top of the man’s body, neck twisted and bones poking grotesquely through paling skin, white so bright it looked like fresh snow. Chrollo smiled, stepping toward you despite your flinch, and untied you. He smiled, eyes crazed in a way you’d never seen before, and kissed your head gently. “Let’s go home, sweetheart,” he said, smile growing softer and more gentle. His eyes returned to their normal, dead, state.

As you stared into the wide, unseeing eyes of the man who lay dead on the floor, you wondered who was worse off.

#lethwrites #yandere hxh #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader

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unconventional-lawnchair · 22 days

Text

Meeting Royalty {Blurb}

Remus Lupin x Dutchess!Reader

English Love Affair 5sos

Masterlist

Summary: Meet cute but make it royalty}

wc-1326

If the phrase, ‘Money is no object.” Was a person, it would be {Y/N} {L/N}.

The {L/N}s were known for many things, the most significant being they were dukes and duchesses of Whales. True royalty in their simplest forms. All of the perks and notaries, no true rules and regulations.

Your father was a tart man with more concerns about the latest lacrosse then what you were up to. It never bothered you, you could snap your fingers and have anything you ever wanted. People doted on you left and right, you were able to enjoy London to the fullest, and you had more money then you knew what to do with.

People had a habit of sucking up to you, you had never known trial in your life.

Until you met them.

Four boys, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You spent every day of your life memorizing and familiarizing yourself with the locals, especially the ones your age. You were a high society socialite, it was in your blood. Their faces were certainly new no doubt about it.

One in particular caught your eye and kept it like a promise.

“Are you reading this?”

You were outside your favorite library in upper Kensington, a stack of books by your side. They were varieties of fantasy, but the long tanned finger in front of yours was gesturing to the one you just finished, ancient myth and mythos of Werewolves.

Now, you had never been approached so casually before. People your age were a bit bold, but no bolder than longer glances your way, muttering a bit too loud, even occasionally copying your coffee order from the cashier.

Then again, they tended to know who you were.

“Ma'am?”

His voice snapped you out of your trance. You lowered your sunglasses and looked up at him, eyes trailing his arm before you were met with a breathtaking sight. Tanned skin broken across with pale white scars, bordering on fleshy pinks. His eyes were rich with a creamy warmth, mint chocolate. He was giving you a curious look, before he slowly curled a corner of his lips into a smirk.

Oh god, how do you breathe again? Your throat was closed up and you forgot how to release it.

Slowly, you pulled down your glasses and began to chew idle on one of the ends. You were smirking at his sudden shyness, missing his smirk. Who speaks to royalty and shys away? You looked over his outfit, pressed shirt, steamed and starched trousers- was he 70?

A cozy brown corduroy sweater you could totally picture yourself in, early morning, with that dazzling smile looking at you. His large hands over your bare lower back littered in love bites-

“Your grace? Is this intended company?” One of your chaperones called over, making Remus look up like a startled bird.

“Intended? No, but very welcomed.” You called back before looking back up at the scarred boy. He seemed distressed. “So, do you have a name, Mint Chocolate?”

“Mint Chocolate?” He muttered, a bit confused.

“Like your eyes.” You mused and leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table and crossing your legs.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, completely stunned by not only your forwardness, but the fact he wasn't being dragged off the patio by your company. Your grace? You were royalty. He just came up to royalty and asked for your book. Your book on werewolves.

He must look like a complete imbecile.

“Still with me, handsome?”

Oh and you were flirting with him.

“Y-yeah, sorry I wasn't aware-”

“Moony! The hell are you doing? We are done waiting for you!” A voice called out to him. It was deep, thick, and a bit playful. You looked right past your current fascination and smirked at the black haired boy. He looked startled, slowing his step towards you as your two chaperones began to step forward, like dressed up bodyguards.

“Woah, Moony, what did you get yourself into?” He whistled low, looking you over a few times before he smirked. He was handsome, and he seemed ready to flirt, but you were already over it, looking back up at Remus with a flutter of your eyelashes.

“My my moony, what have you gotten yourself into?” You hummed, and his jaw went slack. You grabbed the book he gestured to. It was a rather old one, supposedly donated to the library years ago. It cost a pretty penny to take it home. You looked it over before pressing the top to your chin, framing your face for him.

Sirius glanced down at the book they had been looking for, for the past hour, and then back to Remus who looked as flustered as a school boy. He slowly smirked and put his hand up to James’s chest to stop him from walking over, shushing him in a smooth motion, like it was second nature.

Not that you noticed much other than those glossy spectacles in his head. “I'll tell you what.”

You stood up and leaned forward, into his space. He didn't seem to have any problems with this, maybe there was a bit of fight behind his embarrassment?

“I did just buy this, it cost me quite a bit.” You started and his jaw dropped. Who just casually buys an artifact like this? “But, I'll let you borrow it.” You mused and held it out to him.

He slowly took it, cautious before his eyes darted from the worn leather cover, back to you. “Is there.. a catch?”

“Smart boy.” You praised and he couldn't find it in himself to be offended. You sat back on the table and bit your lip. “I want to know how to reach you. To get my book back, of course.”

“I uhm-” He took a deep breath and began to feel around his pockets for a pen. Pulling out a sharpie you extended your arm to him.

“Ma'am, your skin-” You waved off your chaperone’s concerns.

“Go ahead, sign it, Moony.” You teased in a song like voice and his breathing picked up a moment. He looked down and carefully took your elbow. Like you were fragile china.

The pen glided across your skin so featherlite you prayed he'd have to write it again, just to feel the pen tip against your soft flesh, spelling his lovely name. You licked your lips at him and he almost choked. Running your fingertips along your forearm, tracing the new name, like a claim on your skin.

“Remus?” You breathed and he closed the pen, putting it in his pocket.

“Remus Lupin.” He seemed just as effected by the little intimate action.

“{Y/N} {L/N}, Dutchess of Whales.” You offered your hand and he took it, kissing the back and shooting you a look. It was your turn to be flustered. Oh there was so much more beyond his initial embarrassment.

You wanted all of it.

“I'll return this soon.”

“Please. Very soon.” You whispered and he pulled back, biting his cheek before nodding.

“Your highness.”

“Call me by my first name, please.”

His eyebrows raised before he nodded. “Goodbye, {Y/N}.”

“See you soon, Moony.”

You watched him leave, his friends patting him on his back and laughing at the poor boy's state.

You could faintly hear the one you didn't hear shout. “You flirted with royalty!?”

You gave a laugh and stared where he stood. Suddenly realizing you just gave a book worth a few thousand quid to an absolute stranger. You couldn't care less- the idea of seeing him again was enough.

Eventually, it was time to brave the ride home. The England rain came out of nowhere, leaving you and your sundress soaked when you came home.

But the only thing you seemed to care about, was how his damned number had melted off your arm. Leaving just his morphed signature in its place.

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ambiguouslady42 · 2 months

Text

Court

Nanami x Fem! Reader.

You are at your first-ever tennis match. Nanami Kento is also at this match. A chance encounter becomes one to remember.

Tags: Smut. Some choking.

Word Count: 2.5K

This is my first try at writing smut. It was inspired by attending the National Bank Open.

Minors DNI. I will block you.

You have never been to a tennis match in your life. You are very familiar with tournaments such as Wimbledon or the French Open. You have caught glimpses of the sport through television, but you are not that familiar with the rules. You are familiar with the unofficial dress code. People are dressed in crisp linens, khakis, dresses, skirts, and sweaters. It seems like you’re going to a garden party versus being a spectator. Due to the humid weather, you have opted for a form-fitting dress that accentuates your waist, your hips, and the firm ass of yours. Although, those are not the only assets that you possess. If people are talking to you, you must double-check that they are looking at your face and not below the neck.

You carry an allure to yourself. Your perfume smells of sparkling fruit; it’s not overpowering, but it leaves a trail as you enter the venue. Further away from you is a VIP area. Those with the means to enjoy the comfort of watching the game indoors. Marble tables and chairs with cushions are placed everywhere. Visitors can enjoy the buffet. Kento Nanami doesn’t particularly feel interested in this. He feels a hunger for something else. Dressed in his notable khaki suit, blue shirt, and leopard-printed tie. It was appropriate for today’s activities. He was supposed to be accompanied to this event, but unfortunately, his date did not come. He was by himself enjoying an old-fashioned at the bar.

Fortuitously, you decided to enter the VIP area to explore. You had free tickets to access the VIP area, plus the ability to sit courtside. You approach the bar and notice the gentleman standing next to you. However, you wait before you can start a conversation. You flag the bartender, and order your drink: “whiskey sour, please.”

You notice that Nanami’s scent is that of lemon, rosemary, and bergamot. It was lovely. You feel a sudden attraction to this. However, you do not want to make the first interaction. You slowly sip your drip and look at your phone. He notices your scent. It’s alluring to him and he catches a glimpse of your outfit for today’s occasion. He can notice your assets and wonders if you’re alone. You catch him looking as you use your peripheral vision. At this point, this almost feels like a game of cat and mouse.

“Can I help you?” you ask.

Nanami is surprised that you were quickly able to notice his glance. He maintains his composure. “Not at all, I apologize if I startled you. ”

Noticing that you have embarrassed him slightly you relax and approach him. “I apologize. I’m alone and I wasn’t expecting to be spoken to today”.

“Oh, why is that?”

“Well, I was supposed to be here with a friend, but she wasn’t able to come. I didn’t want to waste these tickets. I suppose I can stay indoors and watch the game from here, but that would be ridiculous.”

“Where are you supposed to be seated?”

“Courtside” you respond.

“That’s a coincidence. I’m also going to be seated courtside. I was supposed to have a companion today, but I was stood up.”

“I find that very hard to believe. Based on your appearance, I find it hard for you to ever be stood up.”

“What about my appearance?”

You begin to blush slightly. “Well, you look rather dashing in your suit. I must say that your scent is also quite alluring, so even if you do not have a date, I doubt that you’ll have a challenging time meeting someone today.”

Nanami is taken aback by how forward you are. He is intrigued, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. “Are you alone?”

“For today, I am. I wouldn’t mind some company.”

“My name is Y/N L/N. What is yours?”

“Nanami Kento. It’s a pleasure” He grasps your hand for a firm handshake. You like the grip of his hand. However, you are the first to let go.

You both finish your drink in silence. “Would you care for another?” he asks.

You give him a coy smile. “Are you buying?”

“I could if you’d like.”

“No thank you. I think I will suffice with just one. I’d like to walk around the VIP area if that’s alright.”

“That’s perfectly okay.” He offers you his arm. You gladly take it.

As you begin to walk around the venue, he glances at your face. He notices the red lipstick that’s around your plump lips. He wonders what it would be like to kiss lips like yours. You look up to him and just smile at him. You look away immediately. His ears turn slightly pink, but you don’t notice. You do begin to feel a warmth on your face, but you maintain your composure. You notice a booth. It’s to enter the Grand Open in Monte Carlo next year.

“Would you like to sign-up?” Nanami asks.

“Maybe. I’ve dreamt of going to the Italian southside. I’ve always wanted to go on a boat in the Italian waters. Have you ever been?”

“I have not. I’ve been to Malaysia. Beautiful beaches. The water feels amazing too.”

“I’d never been to the beaches. I guess i’ll just have to see someday.”

“Let’s both sign-up. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Sure why not. And what will you do if you win?”

“There’s a lovely individual that i just met. I would hope that she would be my date. How about you? What will you do if you win?”

“I’ll be going with a dashing individual. He seems like the perfect gentleman.”

Nanami gives you a reassuring wink. You both sign-up for the open.

“If anything happens, you’ll be the first to know.” you reassure him.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

You take his arm back as you now realize it’s time to get to your courtside seats for the match. As you are making your way to the stadium, he allows you to get ahead of him in the narrow staircase up to the stands. As you’re making your way, you begin to feel self-conscious about the choice of outfit. However, he cannot help to take a glance at the view that he’s able to take. He clears his throat as you both approach the level. You pass a nearby elevator and notice that no one is there.

“Is there something the matter?” he asks.

“Oh no. Not at all.” You take his arm and continue to walk towards your seats.

Coincidentally, both of you are seated right next to each other. Your knees are able to touch, but you make sure to remain calm and collected. Nanami proceeds to cross his legs. You place your arms on your lap. The sun is shining and you put on your sunglasses. You are able to catch a glance of at his stoic figure. You imagine what it would be like to run your hands through his carefully combed hair. He turns to look at you and you just proceed to just smile at him. He smiles back. He’s beginning to imagine what it would be like to kiss you. He can smell your perfume now that you’re sitting very closely to each other.

“I’m pretty interested to see today’s match. This is my first time being at a game.”

“Oh I agree. I heard the American player is a force to be reckoned with.”

“I’ve heard she’s won her titles. She’s already made a name for herself. I’m sure her competitor will be fierce competition.”

“Agreed. The match is about to start.” Nanami says as he faces forward.

Without thinking too much about it, Nanami’s hand grazes your knee. He’s about to move it as he notices that you take a deep breath, but you gently place your hand on top of his. You interlace your fingers with his.

You begin to feel excited. You just met this man, but you feel prepared to do just about anything. The match begins. There are three sets of a total of 6 matches that need to be won. The first set began, but the competition got intense midway through. You begin to brush your thumb on his hand. You felt tense as you were rooting for the American to win. She was already world-recongized and you wanted her to win. However, you did not want to get too boastful next to the perfect gentleman.

“Excited much?” he asked. “Don’t worry, it’s actually cute.”

“Just cute?” You ask.

“No. However, i don’t think this is the time or the place to discuss this.” he whispers into your ear. You begin to feel aroused by his voice. You don’t respond. At this point, you began remembering about the elevator that was nearby. You keep your eyes on the match.

Nanami begins to focus on the match as well. He starts to notice the grunting of both players playing. He starts to caress your knee just a little more, and slowly lifts the dress slightly above your knee. You slow him down and whisper to him “I don’t think this is the place to be sneaking around. Although, I know of a place where we can.”

He leans closer to you. You can feel his breath on your neck. “And where might that be?”

“Meet me by the elevator in the next 5 minutes.” you whisper back. You slowly make your way up and straighten your dress. Nanami takes one final look as you walk away. He glances at his watch. He begins to time himself. He straightens up his tie and combs back his hair with his hands. He takes a mint before he makes his way to the elevator.

You are glancing at your watch. You notice how particularly quiet this area is. However, you do notice that there are people just walking by. You see Nanami approaching. You heart begins to race. Once he approaches you, you feel like your heart is going to burst. Without speaking a word.Nanami takes your hand and you push the button to the elevator. It opens. You turn around to make sure nobody is nearby. The elevator closes. You press it to level 3. Nanami is quick to press the emergency stop button.

He suddenly wraps his arm around your waist and you wrap your arms around his neck. He places a soft kiss upon your lips. You immediately laugh. “You just got lipstick on yourself.”

“Who cares”.

He notices that you took your glasses off. He loves the colour of your eyes. You also notice that he took off his glasses. You love his brown, hazel eyes. They were beautiful to look at.

He proceeds to deepen his kiss. You moan as you feel him. You proceed to run your fingers through his hair. You begin to feel his tongue. You begin to gently bite his lower lip. He begins to moan. His hands are no longer on your waist. He begins to travel them towards your ass. He squeezes it as you begin to fall into the trance of his kiss. You begin to pull his tie towards you and he proceeds to kiss your neck. It starts with small, tender kisses, but moves to gentle love bites. He takes off his jacket and you begin to feel his biceps. You feel further aroused as you feel his muscles.

Wasting no time, he begins to lift up your dress. He continues to move his hands towards your ass. He starts to caress his fingers to feel your skin. He slowly begins to slide your panties off. You begin to losen his tie and unbutton a few of his buttons. You press small gentle kisses on his chest.

With gasps in between “I’ve wanted you all afternoon…” you whisper in his ear.

“I knew i wanted you the moment we were at the bar.” He begins to slide his fingers into your sex. You begin to moan, but he proceeds to kiss you. “Shhhh, you don’t want anyone to hear us…”

“I guess i’ll need a way to make me shut up.”

Nanami proceeds to kiss you. You moan as he deepens his kiss. His fingers are beginning to slide between your pussy and your clit. You can’t tell which part feels amazing, but as you’re moaning, he keeps silencing it with a stolen kiss.

“I…need you now…” you whisper to him.

“I know sweetheart. I can tell that you’re ready for me. Your pussy is so wet for me.”

“Yes…Nanami”.

“It’s Kento” as he whispers and proceeds to bite your ear.

You unbuckle his belt and his pants. He quickly slides his pants and underwear. You see his cock exposed. You proceed to grab his cock and slowly massage it.

“Do…you…want me?” you whisper into his ear.

“Yes, sweetheart. I’m ready to make you mine”

He lifts you up and he slides his cock inside of you. As he notices that you grab on to his arms, he begins to give you another kiss as you moan. Each thrust, he can feel your moans getting harder to suppress with every kiss that he shares with you.

“Ken…fuck me…harder” you whisper.

He slams you harder against the elevator wall. As you wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek and his neck, you further lock your legs around him. He begins to thrust harder and faster.

“Will you fuck me like this…in Monte Carlo?” you ask him

“Sweetheart, I’ll fuck you when I take you out to dinner.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow night. I know a place.”

As your next moan is approaching, he steals another kiss. “Mmm, it’s a date…Ken”.

Nanami begins to softly choke you as he is thrusting. You suddenly begin to hear someone outside of the elevator “i think it’s broken…hmm?”

“Oh…fuck…Ken…people are outside.”

“Shh…sweetie.” He begins to choke you just a little harder; you release one final moan and Nanami begins to cum. He takes one final kiss as your releasing your final orgasm. You can an feel him cumming inside of you. In this moment, you are his, and he is yours.

With one final kiss, he slowly sets you down. You straighten your dress and he begins to buckle his pants.

“You have lipstick all over you.” as you approach to turn off the emergency stop.

Nanami grabs his handkerchief to remove the lipstick smeared all over him. “At least i’ll have the memory of this.”

As the elevator approaches the third floor. “I’ll meet you downstairs. This elevator seems to be broken, eh?”

“Yes, i’m sure your companion must be wondering where his lovely date went.”

“He won’t mind. He promised me to take me on another date tomorrow.”

Nanami feels enthralled by you. He knows that he will wine and dine you tomorrow. Later, he will make love to you before he fucks you. He hopes that he can do the same in Monte Carlo the following year.

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #nanami kento #nanami kento x fem!reader #jjk x you #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #jjk x y/n

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valeriianz · 9 months

Note

Smutty fic idea prompts - 36 is just perfect for Dreamling please?

36: A rolls sleeves up/takes shirt off, revealing body hair to B. B has no idea how to act normal around A anymore.

Hob dresses up as Sexy Santa for a staff party and Dream absolutely loses his cool <3

-----------

These days, Dream finds himself as the newest addition to Johanna Constantine’s friend group. It’s quite nice of her, if not a little presumptuous, to drag him along to nearly every social outing and local music show in order to introduce him to as many people in her network as possible. The only reason they are still friends, Dream and Jo, is the small mercy of her not putting up a fuss when his social battery has been drained and he awkwardly dips out.

The best thing to come out of these adventures, at least, is meeting Hob Gadling.

Hob and Jo go way back, or so she’d announced the first time he and Dream had met. At a bar where the lights were low but Hob’s natural charisma and warm smile had radiated through anyway. They got along immediately, exchanging intellectual conversations where Hob had surprising takes and kept Dream’s interest; kept the dialogue fresh and spontaneous. Dream didn’t even need to contribute much while sharing a space with Hob, he could simply sip on his gin something-or-other and listen as Hob went on passionate rants about revolutions or human invention over the past centuries– each time they met up he’d go down a 100 years. Or complaining about how washed up Shakespeare was (an argument Dream allowed himself to fall into and they’d talked about all night, much to Johanna’s chagrin and massive eye roll, muttering a very clear “nerds” under her breath).

Chemistry aside, Dream also couldn’t deny how… effortlessly attractive Hob was.

Deep brown eyes that seemed to sparkle with barely contained mischief, chocolate dark hair with brush strokes of greys that unfairly complimented his face, and a seemingly permanent five O’clock shadow that Dream never imagined would leave him staring and daydreaming… alas, he’d discovered quite a few new things about himself around Hob.

Like how he’d imagined on more than one occasion, how easily he’d be able to lift Dream, how those broad shoulders and chest, thick biceps that even a cable knit sweater couldn’t hide– might manhandle his own body, lifting and bending him into submission. Dream ached with it; the possibilities. Was dying to kiss Hob’s plush mouth, his gaze fell to it enough, or feel the stubble of Hob’s jaw under his own palm, under his lips, along the inside of Dream’s thighs.

Hob was everything Dream was not; roguish, masculine, and unbearably kind. It was no wonder Dream had developed a crush from their very first meeting.

And maybe Hob was interested too, if you squinted. He always offered Dream a ride home, set his hand on the small of his back, his shoulder, and never seemed to stop smiling in his presence. Dream was never very good at picking up cues though– his prior relationships had been him making the first move, striking immediately at what he wanted, courting in the most by-the-book manner, before he was ultimately either rejected or caught up in a love affair that burned out before the year was up.

He didn’t want to do that with Hob. Dream held back, kept his desires at bay… because he truly enjoyed Hob’s company. It would be devastating if Hob rejected him, or worse, fell into a relationship and then realised Dream was… too much, too fast, too methodical. Dream wasn’t sure he could handle not having Hob in his life now that he’d met him. He was determined to keep him around, even if it meant remaining friends. Dream could work with that, could suffer quietly and go home after a long night of drinking or dancing and being subjected to Hob’s ever-present smile, his unwavering gaze, the warmth his body radiated, even feet apart. Could hold onto those images and sensations and close his eyes, take himself in hand, and work himself to climax in the safe darkness of his own bedroom, clenching his teeth and imagining how it might feel if it were Hob’s hands on him instead.

All of Dream’s self restraint comes crashing down about a week before Christmas, at the staff holiday party Johanna had invited him along to.

Because Hob is sitting on a large red velvet chair at the back of the venue, surrounded by cotton snow and boxed presents, wearing absolutely nothing but a Santa hat, explicitly short red and white trousers, and black boots.

It’s a mockery of what you’d see at perhaps a mall: Santa waiting to greet children and ask what they want for Christmas while his elves putter around and keep order. This is…

Obscene, is what Dream’s brain provides before it completely resets and replaces the word with animal noises.

He’d overheard Hob and Johanna talking about this, how they had a “sexy Santa” every year (because Jo’s office was mostly comprised of women who voted on it every year, vastly sweeping the competition to the point of tradition). And to save on money this year, decided to find a Santa who would do it for free, hence Jo asking Hob to do her a solid.

Dream felt heat rush through his entire body, unable to look away as Jo, Matthew, and him walked out of the foyer and into the thick of the party. Dream heard Johanna speaking, but couldn't decipher her words, his brain wiped clean by the reveal of Hob’s body, something Dream had only imagined in the safety of his own head, and kicked himself over the exclusion of hair.

So much body hair. Thick, dark hairs covered Hob’s chest like a pelt, rolling down his abs and scattered out around his soft belly. It was enough to make Dream’s mouth water, a ringing sound began in his ears, making him dizzy as he forced one foot in front of the other.

Dream had only met Hob a couple months ago, while the weather had just turned cold and they’d both only seen one another buttoned and bundled up in high necklines and long sleeves. To see Hob nearly completely nude was a shock to Dream’s system. And holy shit, Dream wanted. He had to know how those thick hairs felt between his fingers, digging them in while he sat on Hob’s lap, grinding his hips down while his own naked chest slid along Hob’s. What sounds Hob would make while Dream petted and pulled and rubbed his cock along the swell of Hob’s furred stomach.

And then Hob spotted them coming in, his smile dazzling as he stood up and waved.

Giving Dream a fantastic view of his legs, which were just as thick and strong as Dream had fantasised, and just as hairy as his top half. As well as a view of how those pants rode up enough to make Dream question if the man was wearing underwear.

Dream stumbled to the nearest restroom, locking himself in a stall and attempting to breathe and calm his erratic heart beat.

Friend, friend. Hob is your friend. Dream chanted to himself, keeping his hand out of his pants and taking deep breaths as his blood circulation regulated itself. Don’t make it weird.

Dream didn’t know how to socialise on a good day, and how with a half naked Hob in the building– shamelessly on display and humouring drunk female staff as they boldly sat on his knee– Dream felt himself shutting down entirely, spluttering and stumbling over his speech with enough velocity that he feared he'd glitch and spark out, setting the place on fire. Or at the very least, melt into a puddle of goo, the remains of his dignity soaked into the hardwood floor.

Dream tossed back drink after drink, matching Jo’s pace if only to distract his wandering thoughts, losing his jacket somewhere in the scuffle and rolling up the sleeves of his black button down.

Johanna’s laughter snapped Dream back to the present, looking down at the red solo cup in his hand and Jo standing across from him, visibly swaying on that spot. Dream doesn’t remember what he’d said to elicit such a reaction, but felt his lips curl anyway.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, dreamboat!” Jo’s laughter simmered down to a pleasant chuckle, if not a little devious. “I thought– nah, can’t be. But holy shit, you like Hob, don’t you?”

It took several long, embarrassing seconds to figure out what Jo just asked him. Dream felt warmth spreading up his ears.

“Of course. He’s my friend–”

“Nonono–” Jo stepped into Dream’s space, landing a heavy hand on his bony shoulder. “You like him. I can tell, because you haven’t spoken to him all night.”

Dream swallowed. The alcohol was affecting his brain, sloshing it around and rendering him speechless.

Johanna smirked. “Am I wrong?”

“You’re a menace, Constantine.” Dream said, pushing her hand off him and sliding his gaze sideways to find Hob rubbing the tops of his thighs. It’d been well over an hour since they’d arrived, Dream wondered how long Hob had been sitting there, playing a role he clearly wasn’t enjoying anymore.

Jo inclined her head.

“He likes you too.”

Dream’s head snapped back to meet Jo’s eyes, searching for that tell of humour or sarcasm, and finding none.

She leaned in conspiratorially. “He told me not to tell you. Thinks your eyes are ‘dazzling’ and your hands are pretty–” she makes a face at that one. “And that your hair looks– and I quote– ‘like raven’s feathers’.”

Dream swallows, his throat suddenly dry.

“When did he tell you this?”

Jo huffs a sigh, taking a sip from her beer, her lips making a smacking sound off the bottle’s mouth.

“The night after I introduced you two.”

Dream’s heart flips over at the revelation.

Johanna winks and shoves at Dream’s shoulder. “Now go say hi before you break his heart.”

Taking Johanna’s advice seems like a death sentence, but Dream is just drunk enough to summon courage, finishing off his drink and setting the empty cup on a random surface, before forcing his shoulders back and finally making his way towards Hob.

The smile that breaks across Hob’s face once he spots Dream is staggering, and it strikes Dream down more so than before, informed with the knowledge that Hob might like him as much as Dream does.

Dream slips his hands into the pockets of his slacks, affecting nonchalance as he finally stands before Hob.

“Hello, Hob.”

“Hey, Dream.” Hob tugs on his ear, looking up at Dream. His entire body seems to relax, even slouching a bit in the chair. “Was surprised to see you here.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I know parties aren’t really your thing.”

Dream hums, his eyes selfishly taking in their fill. This close to Hob, he can catalogue every hair, curve and freckle in greater detail, storing the information away for later.

And with Hob looking up at him, giving the illusion of superior height, an unmistakable flicker of arousal begins low in Dream’s belly.

“I can be persuaded, from time to time.” Dream smiles, coy. The alcohol gives him a confidence boost and relaxes him further. “I apologise for not visiting you sooner.”

Hob waves it off. “I honestly didn’t expect you to. I know this is… a lot.” He gestures to himself and laughs self-deprecatingly. “I only agreed to be Sexy Santa because I owe Jo a favour.”

“It’s a fetching look on you,” Dream says, flinging himself into the deep end. He bites his bottom lip as Hob actually looks twice up at Dream, his smile falling into something like disbelief.

“O-oh. Really?” Hob laughs, but it’s small, doubtful. Dream will have to remedy that.

Dream takes a long breath, grounding himself, licking his lips before speaking what he’d wanted to say to Hob all night.

“I believe it’s my turn to ask Santa what I want for Christmas?”

The prettiest pink flush rises up Hob’s cheeks. His lips part as his eyes rove across Dream, down and up.

Despite what Johanna said, Dream feels himself shake with nerves as he tips forward, touching the top of Hob’s thigh before slowly lowering himself onto it. His eyes never leave Hob’s as he goes, silently asking for permission and receiving a nod once he’s fully seated.

Hob’s hand instantly curls around Dream’s narrow hips, holding him steady, locking him into place both upon his lap and in his gaze; wide and dark and focused.

Dream crossed one leg over the other, settling his hands on his knees, which inadvertently causes him to sway that much closer to Hob. He can feel the heat of his body, this close. Can smell something sweet and earthy, like sandalwood and pine, mixed in with something tangy that makes Dream’s mouth water. He has to hold back the urge to close the gap between them and shove his face in Hob’s chest, into the crook of his neck, under his armpit and lose his sanity. Abandon all pretence and inhale Hob like a wild animal, scent and mark him with his teeth and tongue and–

Hob swallows. Dream watches the way his Adam’s apple bobs, fascinated.

“Are you messing with me?”

Dream cocks an eyebrow. “You think me capable of jokes?”

Hob laughs, soft, wonderful. “You are. You’re the funniest person I’ve ever met.”

His thumb is pressing into Dream’s side, caressing back and forth, sending spikes of electricity through his veins and heating him up from the inside.

“No one thinks I’m funny,” Dream says matter-of-factly.

“Well, you make me laugh,” Hob says simply, his other hand coming across Dream’s front to lace his fingers together, forming a snare around Dream that ignites something within him. “You challenge me, keep me on my toes… keep me guessing.”

Dream’s heart beats so hard against his ribs it nearly hurts. He wonders if Hob can hear it, how he makes his blood race a mile a minute.

“I’m being very serious,” Dream takes a breath. “But if you deny me, I’ll just say I’m drunk.”

Hob laughs again, his hold around Dream tightening and nearly causing Dream’s knee to bump into Hob’s crotch.

“Are you drunk?”

Dream is very aware that they are in the middle of a party, and although the people around them seem to be paying them little attention, it would probably be inappropriate to follow the path enticing him to resituate himself on Hob’s lap to instead straddle him. To grind his barely contained semi against Hob’s flimsy excuse for shorts, while winding his arms around his shoulders and kiss him stupid.

Dream leans forward, brushing his lips along the shell of Hob’s ear and lowers his voice.

“Not enough to not know what I want.”

Hob groans, Dream can feel the vibration in his own chest as he pulls back just enough to see how his eyes have fluttered shut, swallowing again before opening his eyes and focusing on him.

“And what do you want, Dream?”

“Whatever you’ll give me,” Dream wets his lips. His hands venture up, tentatively brushing his knuckles against Hob’s bronze skin, fascinated at how snow-white his own appears against it. His fingers uncurl as he dares himself to properly touch; pushing into the soft flesh at Hob’s sides and drinking in the unmistakable sound of a choked off whine from his friend.

“I’ll take anything, Hob.”

“Holy shit–” Hob whispers, his head lolling back, exposing his throat which Dream violently refuses to latch his mouth on to.

“Okay…” Hob clears his throat, his eyes swinging over to gauge Dream again. His pupils are blown wide, hunger clear in its depths. “Okay.”

He’s looking at Dream’s mouth as he speaks again. “Meet me out back in 10 minutes?”

Dream bites back a smile and nods, his heart soaring as he climbs off Hob.

Johanna gives him a knowing look as Dream stumbles back into the crowd to find his jacket and coat, managing a wave (great, now he owed her a favour as well) before all but running out of the building to make good on his promise to Hob.

Hob makes good on his offer as well; indeed giving Dream everything he’d wanted. All night.

#dreamling #hob x dream #omg i managed to write a semi-holiday themed fic!#so sorry this took a hundred years lol #im slowly working on all the prompts sent to me from this list #thank you so much for sending one in!!#i hope you love it!#my writing #happy holidays!#this is sfw mostly

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blxvdlusttxx · 3 months

Note

Hey pookiee, can you write something soft with Tobi? Maybe cuddling in bed after a long day? Oh with male reader please ❤️

Soft blankets and Rainy weather - Ticci Tobi x Male!Reader

I certainly can! I love Tobi with all my heart. Hope you enjoy!

Content warning: mentions of blood (Tobi has a cut), showering together, other than that, none. just some soft, fluffy time with Tobi.

Male!Reader

All of my writings are based off of Jordan Persegati's videos on youtube, If they seem out of character let me know.

Request: Yes / No

It had been a long day, y/n was laying in bed reading a book, quietly enjoying the rain tapping against the window as he sipped on his coffee/tea. It was calm, quiet, which is not a common thing in the slender mansion. That was until his boyfriend, Tobi, burst in the door, soaking wet and reeking of blood and dirt.

"H-hi honey" Tobi smiles sweetly, kicking off his muddy boots and slipping his wet sweater off his shaky frame.

"Hello love" y/n responded, taking another sip of his drink.

Tobi huffs, walking over to where his lover laid.

"Nu uh, no you don't" He puts his hand against Tobi's chest, stopping him from throwing himself on the bed, causing Tobi to pout.

"Go shower before you stink up my bed, I just changed the sheets." y/n smiles, rubbing his boyfriends chest lovingly.

"F-Fineeee" Tobi groans before crossing the bedroom and into the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door. He strips off his clothes, kicking them out of the bathroom, causing y/n to shake his head.

He watches Tobi, admiring his boy before noticing a cut on his back, which is bleeding rather heavily. He sighs before slipping his bookmark in between the book pages and setting it on the rickety nightstand beside his bed. He gets up, and walks across the cold floor, as Tobi did moments before.

"Baby, you're bleeding. He says, causing Tobi to jump a little.

"What? W-Where?" Tobi asks confused.

Y/n chuckles and grabs the first aid kit out of the cabinet, opening it up.

"On your shoulder baby, turn around." he says, Tobi turns his back to him, looking at him over his not wounded shoulder.

"How did that happen, pretty boy?" Y/n asks, the pet name causing Tobi's cheeks to burn up.

"Um... I-I don't k-know." He says, waiting patiently as his boyfriend cleans the wound.

Y/n cleans it gently, his warm hands causing Tobi to shiver, as they always did.

"There, I'll bandage it after you shower." He says as he throws away the soiled cloth.

"T-thank you, honey." Tobi smiles, reaching up and pulling him into a hug. Y/n hums and returns the hug, wrapping his arms around the smaller boys waist. They remain like that for a few minutes, simply enjoying each others company.

"W-will you help m-me..." Tobi asks shyly, no matter how long the two had been a couple, Tobi always felt nervous asking for more intimate things from his lover. His shyness never failed to make Y/n to smile. "Sure baby, I don't mind." he responds, sliding his grey sweatpants off his body.

After their shower, the boys were giggling, talking about anything and everything as Y/n went into their shared bedroom, taking a pair of boxers and one of his shirts from the dresser for Tobi.

They got dressed and Tobi flopped onto the bed as he wanted to earlier, Causing Y/n to chuckle. Y/n curled back up into the bed, sitting up against the pillows with his legs stretched out. He extended an arm out towards Tobi, urging him to come to him, he does. Tobi crawls up under the blankets and snuggles into his boyfriends chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Tobi sighs, his body finally relaxing after his joints had been begging too for the past few hours.

"Long day, my love?" Y/n asks, gently scratching Tobi's scalp, running his fingers through his boyfriend's damp brown hair. He mumbles in response, nodding his head.

Y/n hums, picking up the mug that sat on the nightstand beside his discarded book, he takes a sip and cringes at the cold liquid wetting his tongue.

"C-Cold?" Tobi asks, giggling at his boyfriends expression.

"Yea, It's fine I'll warm it up later." they smile, putting the mug back down before wrapping his arm around Tobi's shoulders.

"I m-missed you" Tobi mumbles tiredly, rubbing his face against y/n's bare chest.

"I missed you too darling, get some sleep baby you need it." He says, kissing the top of the boys head. Tobi nods as he doses off.

We definitely need more times like this, Y/n thought to himself.

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #fluff #x reader #fanfiction #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #male reader #mlm

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match-notes · 3 months

Text

Whether they were looking to arrive in Germany in style or simply marking the occasion with a group photoshoot, the national teams at Euro 2024 were showing off their fashion in the build-up to the tournament. Let's take a look at some of the fits.

In no particular order:

Denmark NT

Beige, beautiful but boring- the suit looks good but overall this seems a little too safe. Have some fun Denmark!

Netherlands NT

Utilitarian! A laidback but put together look, this looks like a mega boy band poised to take over the world but somehow also like a plumbers firm taking a company picture for their new website.

France NT

Elegant and expected, France did not feel the need to reinvent the wheel nor did they have to, they look flawless.

Hungary NT

A little unexpected but still a nice look, a very welcome change from the usual suit and jacket. Dominik Szoboszlai is giving ‘my father will hear about this’ country club realness with the sweater over the shoulder look.

England NT

We can see what they were trying to do but the execution wasn't the best. Having one half of the team wear beige and the other half in black was already a bold choice but when you add the different jackets and shirts with the different necklines it all ends up looking just a tad too disorganised. Call us old fashioned but we think a team event is the perfect time to have everyone match.

The whole thing seems to have confused poor Aaron Ramsdale who clearly didn't quite understand the memo and decided to do his own thing.

Poland NT

Unfortunately this doesn’t quite do it for us. Perfect for a casual summer dinner with the family but maybe not stylish enough for a grand entrance at the Euros.

Slovakia NT

Unexpected but a little badass. The all black has the potential to be a bit underwhelming, but the heavier fabric of the shirt as well as the pocket detail add some dimension to the outfit. Sure, there's some underworld vibes being given off but we can't deny that they look good.

Slovakia came dressed like they mean business!

Germany NT

Another casual look but still stylish. The outfit works best without a jacket in our opinion, the knit top is just 🧑‍🍳💋.

Portugal NT

Another navy blue suit but not quite as flawless as France (womp womp). Maybe Portugal can do a repeat of 2016 and best them where it really matters?

Note: This is all done in fun and just our opinions. Feel free to let us know who you think looked best or if we missed any other teams that ditched the sportswear who you think looked good.

#france nt #germany nt #portugal nt #slovakia nt #poland nt #denmark nt #netherlands nt #england nt #england national team #hungary nt #kai havertz #dominik szoboszlai #aaron ramsdale #andreas christensen #rasmus hojlund #euros 2024 #euro 2024 #football

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bullet-prooflove · 1 month

Text

One Rule: Dean Archer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @chicagotrio101 @Mysticcandymiracle @sweetdaytimedreams

Companion piece to:

The Study:

Part One: Courting Disaster - Dean realises Jack is courting you.

Part Two: Distance - Dean tries to discuss the distance between the two of you.

Part Three: Deserving - Jack tries to show you, you deserve better.

Part Four: Navy Shirt - You and Dean don't keep secrets.

Part Five: A Punch In The Face - Dean reacts badly to the news about Jack Dayton.

Part Six: Blow After Blow - Dean doesn't know how much more you can take

Part Seven: Cutting - Dean's surprised when Jack Dayton turns up on his doorstep.

The Wrong One - After a disagreement Dean is forced to confront his choices.

The Deepest Cut - Dean discovers the effect his illness is having on you.

A few days turns into a week and before you know it you’ve been staying at Sam’s apartment almost for almost ten days, cocooned in the silence that fills you once you step through the door. It’s both heaven and hell at the same time, because there’s no Dean but there’s also no illness, there’s just you safe, sheltered in a space where you don’t have to cope with the reality you face.

And for a while it works, you come in, you turn off your phone, you have a bath, drink some wine and then you spend the night ordering in and watching reality television because the shit that’s going on in their lives, it’s far more entertaining that the nightmare that’s going on in yours. You lose yourself in it because you can’t stand the constant drumbeat in your head that tells you your husband is going to die.

It's bedtime that’s the worst, curling up without him, the sound of the traffic outside instead of the rhythm of the dialysis machine you’ve become accustomed to. Those are the nights that you draw the covers up around you to block out the rest of the world.

This illness has become your entire relationship. Elle tells you when she drops by to check in on you. You’ve been radio silent with every single person in your life for over a week now and the natives are starting to worry. You need to remind yourself that you and Dean are a couple outside of it, that you still enjoy each other’s company. Go on a date, remember why you fell in love in the first place.

That’s exactly what you do. You set up a date with your husband to the same restaurant where you celebrated your first wedding anniversary. You buy a new dress and new underwear, something pretty he hasn’t seen before and you spray yourself with that perfume he likes, the one that made him get a little crazy that night on your honeymoon.

When he looks at you, you want him to remember the woman he married, the person who loves him more than life itself.

He’s already there when you arrive at the restaurant, fashionably early, you’ve always joked. You take a second to drink him in, the way that dark sweater clings to his frame, the strands of salt and pepper that thread through his hair and beard. He’s always been an attractive man but tonight, it’s more than that and when his eyes meet yours you feel that raw heat rush through your body because your husband, he wants to fuck you.

You’ve never felt more like a goddess than in this moment.

There’s only one rule tonight.

No talking about his condition.

It’s just Isobel and Dean, falling in love all over again.

And that’s what happens, you eat dinner together. He tells you about the six foot tape worm he pulled from a man’s stomach, how Sean helped deliver a baby and you tell him about the duck that’s started following you through the park on your way home every night. Selwyn, you’ve called it.

“I’d like to meet it.” He tells you, so the two of sneak the bread from the basket on the table into your pockets and stroll through the park after you’ve shared dessert. As always Selwyn is waiting, honking loudly for his treat. He trails after you until you reach the gates, before retreating back to his family in the pond.

Dean finds this turn of events hilarious because it’s just so typically you.

“Will you come up?” You ask him when you reach Sam’s apartment and the mood shifts as he tucks his hands into his pockets.

“I want to.” He says with a sigh. “But…”

He leaves the rest of the sentence hanging between the two of you and it takes your brain a second to catch up because you've lost track of his overnight treatments since you've been gone.

“Oh.” You say. “I forgot…”

“So did I.” He says with a sad smile.

It crashes down on you then and those horrible, devastating feelings, they start to raise in your chest. You step away from him, your nails digging into your palms because you don’t want to go there anymore, you don’t want to deal with the knowledge that you’re not enough, that your husband doesn’t want to live for you.

“I guess I’ll call you in the morning then.” He says awkwardly and you nod your head, unable to speak before you turn your back on him and retreat inside the doors to the lobby.

That emotion it builds like a pressure in your ribcage, it pushes down on your lungs until you can’t breathe. Your hands are shaking by the time you reach the apartment, you barely manage to get your key in the lock before you shove open the door and beginning to disrobe in the hall way.

The dress you’re husband’s meant to be stripping off your body, the underwear he’s supposed to be fucking you in, you bundle it up and you shove it into the trash because it’s pointless, all of it.

It’s in the bathroom that you take out the razor from the cutting kit, your thumb chases over the metal as it glints in the light. You hate that you do this, that you feel the need to slice into your flesh, to maim yourself but it’s the only way to vent agony you feel because in your husband’s eyes you aren’t worth living for.

And that’s the reason you cut.

Love Dean? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#dean archer #dean archer x reader #chicago med

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katareyoudrilling · 10 months

Text

The Sweepstakes: Dave York (Porn Star AU)

Pairing: Porn Star Dave York x Female Reader

Summary: You’ve never been able to explore your kinks with a partner. Could a night with a porn star give you that opportunity?

Word count: ~2.6k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: kink negotiation, some choking and breath play, unprotected PiV (paperwork is involved), oral sex (m and f receiving), multiple orgasms

A/N: This is rougher sex than I have written before, and I definitely got in my head about it. Please heed the warnings, but also know that it’s still me writing it, no matter how much Dave York tried to say otherwise. The company mentioned is heavily inspired by Bellesa. Bonus points to anyone who can guess which performer in particular inspired this one. Enjoy!

Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio and on my Masterlist

You can’t believe you’re standing in the room you’ve seen so many times on your laptop and phone. White walls, hardwood floor, gauzy white curtains, and most importantly… the bed.

You take a deep, calming breath and wipe your damp palms down your leggings as pace around the room waiting for him to arrive.

It all started when you saw an ad for “The Sweepstakes” advertised on your favorite porn site. It said, “Enter for a chance to win a night with your favorite porn star!” You filled out the form before you could even stop to think about it.

You won and now you wait anxiously for your choice to arrive – Dave York.

You love Dave’s videos. He can go from laughing and flirting to intense and demanding in the blink of an eye. It’s ridiculous how much that dichotomy turns you on.

You don’t feel turned on right now, though. You feel very, very nervous. You take another calming breath just as the doors open and Dave York walks in.

In his more scripted videos, he’s often cast as a businessman, wearing a suit and tie, or maybe just a dress shirt and slacks. In the casual, unscripted ones, he wears all black.

That’s what he’s wearing today.

His black sweater strains across his broad, muscled shoulders. Track pants hang low on his trim waist. He’s clean shaven and his dark hair is short and neat. If it weren’t for the intensity of his gaze, he would probably just look like an average guy.

He’s anything but.

Dave extends his hand to you and introduces himself. You manage to fight through the haze of nerves and arousal to do the same.

“Erin asked me to go over your sexual interest survey with you to make sure we’re on the same page, since your tastes run on the rough side.” His deep, gravelly voice vibrates through your body sending jolts of need to your core. It’s so much better in person than through a tiny phone speaker.

You met with the director, Erin, earlier in the day to sign releases and fill out paperwork related to your sexual history, health, and interests. You even agreed to be filmed for your private use. A chance like this doesn’t come around every day.

You nod and Dave looks down at the papers he’s holding.

“Let’s start with spanking, how hard do you like it?” he asks, warm brown eyes meeting yours.

“I… uhhh…. I don’t actually know,” you stammer. Dave waits patiently for you to continue. “My partners have never been willing to uhh… try things with me.” That’s an understatement. Not only have your partners not been willing, they have looked at you like you were crazy. “I like watching it. I like it when you do it,” you choke out, heat flooding your cheeks as you look anywhere but at him.

Dave sets the papers down on the bed and reaches for you, lifting your chin up so you meet his eyes.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed.” His hypnotic, liquid chocolate gaze starts to melt the tension you’re holding in your shoulders. “We can try these things and find out if you like them, but you have to talk to me. If you can’t, then we can’t. Can you do that?”

You nod.

“Say it,” he commands, but not unkindly. Heat floods your center.

“I can do that,” you answer, a bit breathlessly.

“If you say no, or stop, or anything else to indicate something isn’t working for you, I will stop immediately. Understood?”

“I understand.”

“Good,” he smiles and picks up the paper again. “Let’s talk about breath play.”

A burst of adrenaline floods your body as Dave moves closer to you. Holding your gaze, he lifts his arm and places the heal of his hand against your collarbone. Your heart beats loudly in your ears as he gently wraps his fingers around your throat. You can still breathe normally even as he squeezes gently.

“I will not squeeze harder than this, is this ok?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Good, remember at any time you can tell me to stop, and I will. Now…” he removes his hand from your throat and brings it towards your mouth. “I will only cover your nose and mouth for five seconds at a time, ok?”

“Ok,”

“Let’s practice.”

Staring intently into your eyes, he covers your nose and mouth and counts to five. Your fingers and toes tingle as the adrenaline courses through your body. Dave’s pupils dilate as he watches your reaction.

Five seconds isn’t very long at all, but you gulp in air when he removes his hand. The rush goes straight to your head and you sway towards him. Large hands steady your shoulders.

“How was that? Are you ok?” he asks, his voice husky with his own arousal.

“That was… very good,” you reply shakily. Your pussy is already throbbing, and you’ve barely begun.

“Good,” Dave murmurs. He’s still so close. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, he squeezes your arms before letting his hands drop. “Is there anything else you want?”

“I want…” you take a shaky breath, locked into Dave’s hypnotic gaze, “to be thrown around a little.”

Dave licks his lips, “Fuck yes,” he replies, closing the distance between you. “You want me to use you?” His eyes are as black as his sweater as he crowds your vision. Desire ripples off him in waves. It hits you that he desires you and it and makes your knees weak. You nod, hypnotized by his gaze.

“Can I kiss you?” he practically growls.

You whimper yes and melt into him as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. He’s so intense and overwhelming. God, you hope the cameras are already recording.

Your head swims with arousal as he explores your mouth, pulling you tighter against his broad frame. Your hands fist in his sweater as you fight the urge to climb up his body.

You break apart panting. Dave steps back, his large hands helping keep you steady.

“I have to take this back to Erin,” he swallows and holds up your paperwork, now slightly crinkled from getting crushed between your bodies, “and give you a few minutes to make sure you haven’t changed your mind.”

Dave steps away from you and heads for the door. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his pants that wasn’t there before. You lower yourself to sit on the edge of the bed on wobbly legs.

He pauses at the door and turns back to you, “One more question. Are you wearing underwear?”

“No,” you blurt out, surprised. He smirks and leaves the room.

You collapse backwards onto the bed, taking in a deep lungful of air to try to calm down. You’re embarrassingly wet between your legs.

No.

Not embarrassing, you correct yourself.

Just because your previous partners haven’t been open to trying these kinks does not make it embarrassing that you are into them. There wouldn’t be a whole industry devoted to these things if you were the only one. Dave certainly seems to be.

You push yourself back up to sitting. The nerves you felt when you waited for him the first time have burned away in the wake of your arousal. Your knee bounces impatiently as you wait for him to come back.

You pop back onto your feet when you hear the door handle begin to turn. Dave enters the room with a question in his eye. You nod. There is no way you have changed your mind.

He stalks towards you like a jungle cat and pulls you into another kiss, hands cradling your face. He’s less desperate this time, but still eager, confident, demanding.

You allow your hands to run down his sides, over the rippling muscles under his thin sweater. You feel the divot at his hipbone, but instead of trailing down to explore the swell you feel against your abdomen, you slip your hands under his sweater and draw them up his back.

Dave chuckles and breaks the kiss, allowing you to pull his sweater off over his head. You drag your fingers down the smooth, golden skin of his chest. You whimper as your fingers get to the waistband of his pants.

He reclaims your mouth with a curse and turns you, so the backs of your legs knock against the side of the bed. His large hands roam down your body and hitch under your thighs. Before you realize what he’s doing, he lifts you up and tosses you onto the bed.

You squeal as you bounce. But before your bottom hits the bed a second time, Dave whips your leggings down past your ass and pushes your knees into your chest. He dives into your pussy like a man starved.

Your squeals of surprise rapidly turn into moans as his expert tongue sweeps over your throbbing cunt. His question about underwear makes sense now.

Your hands scrabble for purchase on the bedding as Dave presses you open and feasts at your core.

All the buildup of being here, discussing your list, and finally getting to kiss and touch the subject of so many of your fantasies has you pulsing against his mouth in no time.

Dave pulls back from you to stand by the bed with a satisfied smirk on his face, pulling your leggings the rest of the way off and tossing them on the floor.

As your orgasm fades, leaving you boneless on the bed, you can’t help the huge smile that spreads across your face, or the laugh that escapes your chest.

“What’s so funny,” Dave watches you from beside the bed, eyes twinkling.

“You just… just…. that was so good and I’m just so glad I’m here,” you smile up at him. You’re no longer nervous. You’re excited to be here and experience all of this with him.

“I’m glad you’re here too.” Dave begins to pull down his track pants and you scramble up and over to him to kneel eagerly at the side of the bed. Now it’s Dave’s turn to laugh. “Do you want something, beautiful?”

You preen internally at the nickname and don’t even bother to hide your enthusiasm.

“I want to suck your cock.”

“Look who has things to say now. I think that orgasm loosened your tongue,” he teases you gently, his eyes flashing with humor and want as he frees the cock you’ve been dreaming about.

He’s so perfect.

You lick your lips and pull your top over your head before lining up to take him in your mouth. Dave hisses as you draw him in. He strokes your cheek and neck as he watches you.

With every flick of your tongue the ache between your legs builds, until you’re moaning around him with every stroke.

You pop off to catch your breath and Dave eagerly claims your mouth. He climbs on the bed, pushing you onto your back and crowding your vision, never taking his mouth of you. He kisses down your neck and nips at your shoulders and breasts as he lines up at your entrance.

“You ready for this cock, beautiful?”

You nod and pull him towards you with your heels.

“So eager for it,” Dave growls as he presses into your wet heat.

Your eyes roll back in your head as he fills you so perfectly. He plies you with long, firm strokes, pressing you deeper into the mattress, covering your body with his.

He’s all you can see and feel and you melt beneath him, giving yourself over to the force of him. Your orgasm begins to build in the distance, but before it can take hold, Dave rolls the two of you so that you’re now on top.

His hands stroke up your torso, cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples as you adjust to the new angle.

Dave pistons up into you, his abdominal muscles tensing with the effort. His strong hands hold your hips firmly against him. A boldness you’ve never felt before washes over you as you grasp one of his hands and bring it to your throat.

He places his hand exactly as he said he would, at the base of your throat. You lean into him, knowing you are in control and could lean back at any time, but the theoretical danger of it sizzles under your skin. His strong fingers squeeze slightly sending dizzying waves of pleasure through your body.

You stare into his eyes, never breaking contact, as he brings you to the brink. Your clit throbs, seeking the friction of his body, you’re so close to breaking when he pulls out and flips you over onto your stomach.

He drags your hips in the air and presses your shoulders down onto the bed as he drives into you and smacks your ass. Your pussy clenches in response.

“You like that don’t you?”

“Yes, oh my god yes,” you babble incoherently.

“I feel that tight pussy grabbing me.” He smacks your ass again for emphasis and you clench around him again.

He is so deep in this position. He thrusts into you slowly, dragging his cock against your sensitive walls, allowing the orgasm to ebb away in favor of slow sensation punctuated with the stinging of his palm.

You press your hips back into him, savoring every thrust and allowing your mind to drift. You are not in control here. He will move you when he’s ready, you don’t have to think, just feel.

Seemingly to prove your point, he pulls out and flips you once again. This time onto your side before pulling you into his chest.

His strong arms band around your hips and shoulders as he enters your slippery cunt from behind. You are at his mercy and nothing has ever made you feel more alive.

He nibbles at your ear as he spews praise and filth under his breath – how good you feel, how wet you are, how he’s going to make you come so hard.

You don’t doubt his promises and when his hand comes up to cover your mouth, all you can do is take and take and take his cock.

You are only need and sensation, unable to move other than how he moves you. Everything else falls away except the white hot pleasure taking over your body. He has edged you over and over and you half expect him to do it again, but this time your climax is barreling towards you at full force.

“Give it to me,” Dave demands in your ear, and you launch off a cliff.

He removes his hand and you gasp for air, sparks clouding your vision. He doesn’t let up as you pulse and scream around him. He presses on your mound, intensifying the waves of pleasure wracking through your body.

He stutters and moans raggedly behind you, emptying himself into your fluttering pussy.

You sag against him, spent and floating. He presses kisses between your shoulder blades and up your neck as he helps disentangle your bodies.

You catch your breath, staring at the ceiling above you and then over at the glistening man next to you.

“That was…. amazing.” A whole new world has been opened to you, and you definitely like it. “Thank you.”

Dave props himself up on his elbow and looks down at you, angular jaw and aquiline nose catching the light of the fading sunset.

“That was just round one, beautiful. You have me all night.” He winks before kissing you once again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Taglist- in reblog

#the sweepstakes #dave york #dave york x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character

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