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witchywcmans · 4 months

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AGAINST THE LAW. | KEN RYUGUJI

synopsis ━━ after one too many trips to the auto repair shop with your old car, you realize you can focus on your work tasks so much better in the waiting room. but when the head mechanic notices you've been loitering, you recognize him instantly: ken ryuguji. there’s zero chance you’re getting out of this one. (older!draken x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ missionary position on a motorcycle (hey, this is fiction), cunnilingus + fingering, praise, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (i.e. cherry), mentions loss of virginity in the past, mutual pining, au as helllll, draken is in his late 20s and a mechanic. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.2k

song inspiration ━━ one for the road, arctic monkeys / one of the girls, the weeknd / fallen star, the neighbourhood

author's note ━━ ok off the bat, I just wanna say this fic was completely inspired by this movie called wait with me. my friends and I like to watch passionflix movies for the laughs, but this one wasn't. well horrible. if you watch it, don't expect oscar-worthy performances, but it was fun and stupid and yeah, it made me think about what if part of this concept was applied to draken when he was older, workin as a mechanic. idk. I'm not caught up on the manga whatsoever so take this as a major au lol

Your car was a piece of shit, but that wasn’t the only reason you ended up sitting in the waiting room at the mechanic’s more than usual. A police officer would call it loitering. You, on the other hand, called it a safe space. For the past couple of weeks, your car had been in and out of the shop due to a faulty ignition sensor that your mechanic couldn’t nail down until your car broke down on the side of the highway. For the third time. Needless to say, it had been a stressful past month. The car issues had been one thing, but then there was all the pressure at work. And for some reason, you began to find comfort in working at the mechanic’s waiting room.

Your work as a journalist was very important to you. A perfectionist at heart, you needed to be in the right zone, the right state of mind, to write. Unfortunately, you weren’t someone who could sit at your desk at home for hours, typing away at the speed of light, and you definitely couldn’t focus at a coffee shop. You tried a plethora of other places. The local park: your laptop died. The library: teenagers still whispered too loud even in the quietest of places. The McDonald's parking lot: you got distracted by your hunger. Nowhere was right … until you were forced to work from your mechanic’s waiting room while he worked on your car.

Even when your mechanic figured out the issue, you couldn’t help but sneak in through the entrance late mornings and work on your articles. The waiting room was just so … quiet, even more quiet than a library. There was hardly anyone in there besides the retired folk who could wait all day for their car to be fixed. You had a coffee machine at your disposable – not good coffee, but good enough – and a selection of snacks from the vending machine. It was pure bliss. You liked to hole yourself up in the corner, picking out different outfits that would conceal your face enough, and type away until the sun began to set. No one said a word to you. No one batted an eye.

So, as you can see, it was a surprise to you when someone eventually approached you two months into your loitering scheme.

It was just about closing time and you were shoving your laptop in your backpack after sending off another draft to your editor. A pair of feet appeared in front of your chair, and when you looked up at the young mechanic chewing on the end of a toothpick, you knew you were fucked.

“Toyota,” he said without missing a beat, knowing your car from the top of his head, “ignition sensor, right?”

You paused, sliding on your backpack. Could you make a break for it? “Um … correct.”

“That was fixed weeks ago,” he said, slapping a dirty rag on his shoulder, car keys dangling from the other hand.

Your mouth went completely dry. How the fuck could you explain this without coming off as a total weirdo? Your hands gripped the straps of your backpack for dear life. This was so embarrassing.

Before you could reply, the young mechanic gestured to the back door with his chin. “Follow me,” he said. “Boss wants to talk to ‘ya.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Still fiddling with your backpack straps, you knew there was no choice but to follow this guy. He led you through the back door and into the main workshop area of the shop. There were some cars left on a few lifts, ready to be inspected tomorrow, and the shelves packed with parts seemed to be in disarray. Besides that, there was no one in here but you, the young mechanic, and whoever this “boss” was still working in the back of the shop. You had never met the owner of the shop before; you typically worked with your mechanic and no one else.

You took down the hood that you’d been wearing today. There was no use in hiding your face now.

“Here she is, boss,” the man beside you said, still twirling those keys. “Can I go home now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boss replied, hidden behind the huge motorcycle he was working on. “Good work today.”

The younger man left, the bell above the office door jingling, and now it was just two: you and this so-called boss you’d never met. You stood there in silence, hands fidgeting with anxiety, as you waited for the boss to say something. From behind the motorcycle, all you could see was a flash of blonde hair and smoke puffing out into the dingy air. It smelled like motor oil and cigarettes back here.

You lifted your foot – maybe it was time to try and sprint out – but then a deep voice entered the work space.

“You know that loitering is against the law, right?”

That voice … it was familiar, but you couldn’t put a pin on it. And then, the boss was standing up, and you saw the tuft of blonde hair slicked back, the shaved sides on his head. That infamous dragon tattoo still on his left temple. The little hoop on his left ear was accompanied by a few other small piercings. He was still the same height – over six feet – but had grown some muscle. His hands were calloused from all those years of fighting, and now, from heavy labor. And those eyes … they were still as stormy and dark as the first day you saw him in school.

This wasn’t just embarrassing. This was mortifying.

“C’mon, Cherry,” Draken said, instantly recognizing you and your old nickname, “you know you can’t loiter in my shop.”

Cherry. You hadn’t been called that since … well, since high school. Your classmates hadn’t started calling you that because of a specific physical trait. To your face, you were told the nickname was for your quick skill of tying a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue. You had been the best, after all. But unbeknownst to you, the nickname came from when Mikey Sano, the infamous former leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang, popped your cherry.

You hadn’t even liked Mikey at the time. You were just sweet sixteen, and he was a year older, and you had assumed it would be better for your first to be someone with experience. Unfortunately, Mikey Sano had no experience. The sex had been awkward and terrible, as most first times between teenagers are, but at least you could say that you lost your virginity to the leader of Toman. Your eyes had always been on someone else, though. Someone who you had been too nervous to talk to, who you had only shared just a few interactions with. You never had a crush on Mikey as a teenager; you had always liked –

“Draken,” you said finally, shock lining your voice. Your eyes formed into wide saucers. It had been so long, and he was here. This whole time. Right under your nose. How surprised did you look right now?

He chuckled, wiping his hands off on a rag. The cigarette dangling from his lips was plucked out, and he stabbed it into an ashtray. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Oh, so you did look that shocked to see him.

He threw the tool he’d been using on a bench and stepped around the bike. “I really don’t go by Draken anymore,” he continued, sitting down on the rusted motorcycle, stretching his legs out. “Just call me, Ken.”

You were speechless. Were you breathing right now? You had to admit … you still found him to be handsome. He always had been. God, you were obsessed with him in high school, but always hid your crush in the shadows. Not even your friends knew about it, but you’d made it obvious, even if you didn’t know it. And now … he’d gotten better with age. The lines underneath his eyes told a story, as well as the scars etched into his veiny forearms. He could have more that you couldn’t see underneath the tattoos on his arms. Your mouth was so dry from staring at him that you had to lick the corners of your lips.

“Ken,” you said in a single breath, lacing your hands together in front of your body. You hadn’t moved from your spot, even when he was looking at you so casually. “I’m so sorry for loitering. Please, don’t call the cops on me. Or something. I have a reason –”

“Me? Call the police?” He laughed again, and it was just like how you remembered. “Do you know me at all, Cherry?”

Once you found the courage to breathe again, you stepped forward. Then another. And another. “I guess I don’t,” you shrugged, still playing with your hands. “I guess I just knew of you.”

“And I knew of you, all those years ago.” He smiled like you two were in on a secret. The rag that had been in his hands was tossed onto his left shoulder. He was wearing a pair of grey coveralls stained with oil, but the top half was unzipped and tied around his waist, leaving him in just a white tank top on his torso, which hugged his muscles so nicely. “So, tell me then. What’s the reason for your loitering?”

This had to be the most words shared between you two than all those years at school together. You thought about pinching yourself, just to check if this was all part of an elaborate dream. Or nightmare, depending on how it ended.

“Um …” You rubbed the back of your neck, blushing slightly. “Well, you see … the waiting room at your shop is very … quiet.”

His brow raised. “So I’ve been told.” He stared you down. “C’mon, out with it.”

“You’re going to make fun of me.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because we went to school together!”

“Oh, you know that means noth –”

“I’m a journalist and I write my articles better in your waiting room,” you finally answered, crossing your arms over your chest. “There. I said it.”

Draken couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He knew he promised, but the giggles bubbled up inside him, forcing themselves to emerge. You looked at him incredulously, blinking too fast. All you wanted right now was to crawl into a hole and be left alone. You had to find a new mechanic after this.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me,” you sighed.

He waved his hand as his laughter died down. “I’m not. I promise.” Finally, his shoulders sagged again and he stood up. “I think it’s really cool that you … like my waiting room so much.”

You found your lips pulling into a smile at the same time as him. The tension broke and you felt your dimples crease. “I also like all the little snacks in the machine.”

“And the coffee?” He added.

You shrugged. “Could use some work.”

Draken laughed again, and just the sound of it made butterflies form in your stomach. You never had such a reaction to someone laughing before. What was wrong with you?

He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his coveralls. “It’s … really nice to see you again, Cherry.”

You mimicked his actions, instead sliding your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “You too, Ken.”

“I won’t bust you for loitering, by the way. Even if it is against the law,” he chuckled under his breath, whipping the rag off his shoulder once again. “Come over here. Let me show you what I’m working on.”

His tone was so casual, as if years hadn’t passed between you two, as if this wasn’t the most you talked in years. You set your backpack down and approached him in front of the bike. Your fingers ran over the slope of the seat, all new despite the rusty exterior of the motorcycle. “That’s new leather,” he informed you. “Feel free to test it out. I need someone else’s butt on this thing so I know if I chose a good material.”

You giggled, all light and flirty. You simply couldn’t help it, especially when he looked at you with those dark eyes, the corners creasing when he smiled. Without missing a beat, you sat down on the side of the bike, like he had minutes ago, and looked up at him. He was tall, but from this seat, he was even taller.

He pointed to the wheel of the bike, and then the headlight. “I just started replacing the …” His voice drowned out as you simply focused on his lips. His mouth quirked as he explained what he fixed so far on the bike. You watched his finger dance around the bike, taking in the rough exterior of his hands up close. They were so much bigger now, amongst other things –

“So how’s that seat?”

You blinked, bringing yourself out of your horny stupor. “Oh, um – comfy. Very comfy.” You cleared your throat. “So … is this for a customer?”

“It’s mine. This is a personal project,” he explained, leaning slightly to the left, closer to you. “I wouldn’t be working on anything this late except if it was for me.”

His eyes were on you again, drinking you in as you sat on the bike. He placed his hand on the fuel tank, so close to yours. Your stomach was definitely doing flip-flops now, especially when you noticed the way his eyes raked down your figure. You wished you’d chosen something better to wear, something other than a pair of jeans and a cropped hoodie, but you’d only expected to be getting work done in the waiting room today. Not to be confronted by your old school crush. But it looked like it didn’t matter to him. The way he was looking at you … it felt like you were naked.

“It really is nice to see you again,” he said, voice just slightly above a whisper. His stance changed and he moved to stand between your legs.

You bit your lip for a moment. “You already said that.”

“You’re right. Uh … I …” He looked down at his hands, flexing them, breaking his nerves. “You just … look very pretty … sitting on my bike.”

You looked down at yourself. The way you sat with your legs spread wide was anything but attractive, and it wasn’t like you were wearing a cute, little dress. “I do?”

But when you lifted your stare again, his face was so much closer to yours. He was leaning down now, bracing two hands on the leather seat, and trying to pretend like he wasn’t inhaling your perfume. You just smelled … so good. Like strawberries and apples and … cherries. Red, ripened cherries. And the way you were sitting on that seat, eyes wide and cheeks blushing from being caught earlier. Fuck, it reminded him of the first time he saw you in high school. He had been a horny teenager, of course, but the way he saw you tie that cherry stem with your tongue … you were the first person he ever jerked off to the thought of. He had never made a move on you – ever – but at this moment, he was glad. Because things would’ve been different, and you never would’ve ended up loitering at his shop, and you never would’ve been sitting so pretty on his bike, all these years later.

“I just …” He trailed off, words failing him, as he lifted a hand to skim it over your jawline. “You can tell me to stop.”

But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Your eyes simply batted up at him, leaning into his touch when his fingers caressed your cheek. Your skin immediately flushed. You were so soft, and warm, and god, did his skin prickle when he touched you.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He muttered, voice gravely. You nodded instantly, and his thumb went to trace the outline of your lips. “I had always been … jealous that Mikey got to you first.”

Had your feelings in high school been reciprocated and you didn’t even know it? You licked at the corners of your lips, your tongue quickly flicking his thumb in the process. “You were?” You asked, already feeling yourself getting wet from just him tracing your lips. “I … never really liked Mikey anyways.” You then shook your head. “It feels silly to talk about this so many years later –”

Draken turned your face back to his, looking into your eyes sternly. “You never liked Mikey,” he said, point blank, pressing his thumb onto your bottom lip.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around the fingertip. You shook your head at his question.

His breath hitched. Just the sight of your lips around his thumb had him adjusting himself in his pants. He could feel his cock start to swell with need, causing him to mumble a soft, “Fuck,” under his breath.

You weren’t just wet now. You were soaked.

You slipped your mouth off his thumb, leaving a tiny trail of spit. His face immediately got closer, his lips grazing yours. He could tell they were soft, and even your chapstick smelled like cherries. God, how could he be so hard already? “I liked you back when we were teenagers,” you confessed, reaching out to hook your thumbs in the belt loops on his coveralls. “I was too scared to say anything, and Mikey … he’d just been there. Right place at the right time. We really didn’t feel anything for each other.”

Your words stirred something within him, something more than jealousy. Was it regret? The fact that he could’ve had you, all those years ago, if he’d just manned up and asked. He could’ve fought people all day, but when it came to asking out the girl he liked, he’d sat back, let his best friend pop your cherry. It should’ve been him. Fuck, it could’ve been him.

His lips pressed to yours instantly, needing to taste the sweetness on your lips. His tongue darted out, swiping at that cherry flavor, and he moaned. Actually moaned. Draken wasn’t known to be weak for anyone, but you … you had always been a different story. You pulled him in closer by his belt loops, tipping your face up as he leaned over you. His mouth devoured yours, his tongue slipping past your lips once again to explore your mouth. He gripped the edge of the seat, his other hand cradling your jaw, and you wanted him so much closer. If he just put his knee between your legs, you could –

There it was. He did it, placing his knee right in the perfect spot. You bucked your hips up, setting a slow grind against his knee as he kissed you with feverish intent. Moans fell from your lips and into the kiss, making the tent in his pants grow bigger every passing second. He was so fucking hard now, and he needed more of you. He would have more of you.

“No, stop,” he muttered, breaking the kiss and moving his knee away. You huffed with disappointment, wanting that delicious friction once again, but when you opened your eyes, he was staring at you with purpose. “Please, let me taste you.”

You nodded dumbly, eyes blown out with lust. All you could say was, “Okay.”

In another life, you would’ve said something endearing, or maybe even hit him with a little dirty talk. But you absolutely couldn’t right now. Your head was swimming, the image of him unzipping your jeans and taking them off felt like it was out of a fever dream. Is this what it felt like to drown? No, you were breathing – just about – and Draken was throwing your pants off to the side, kneeling before you. Your legs spread wide as you sat on the bike. Surely, there could’ve been a better place to do this, but the way he was staring at your soaked panties, pushing them to the side to take in your pussy … you knew there was no stopping him. This was just his first course of the night.

His tongue dove between your wet folds, drinking you in like a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. You knew you were done for when his arms wrapped around your legs, holding them apart, giving himself better access to one thing he’d craved for years. He rolled his tongue over your swollen clit, enjoying the sounds that slipped out of your mouth. You muttered obscenities, bucked your hips without thinking, pulled on his slicked-back hair. Anything to give you more friction on your precious, aching clit.

He dragged his tongue down, pushing it inside your warmth, collecting the arousal and groaning like a man starved. Fucking his tongue into you, he angled his nose to brush your clit, and you just about mewled. You had spent so many years either having mediocre sex or stressing over this stupid job, when this – this man you had been in love with in school – was here the whole time, just dreaming about the day he could eat your pussy. So much time wasted, so many fake orgasms, while Ken Ryuguji owned your favorite auto shop, so close to you and right under your nose.

You were pretty sure the seat on this bike had to have been ruined. Draken was turning you into a wet mess, making your hips buck against his face. His lips wrapped your beloved clit, sucking and pulling, needing more – so much more – of you. Slipping two fingers inside you, he pumped them fast. It didn’t take long for his fingers to curl and find that sweet spot that had your core trembling around him. He didn’t know what he’d do if you came on his face. Honestly, he’d probably cum in his pants on the spot.

“C’mon … c’mon … you can cum in my m–mouth –” He was practically begging, his voice muffled from deep within your thighs. “Tastes so, so good … fuck, Cherry, fuck –”

You couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t even think about anything but the way his tongue lapped at your clit, before you were cumming on his tongue, your arousal smearing all over his lips. He moaned the second he got just a hint of your essence, burying his face more into your legs. You tasted better than candy, than cherries, than menthol cigarettes. He could spend forever between these thighs, drinking you in and listening to your desperate moans.

Once your body stopped shaking, he dragged his tongue one last time through your folds, making sure he didn’t miss a drop. You yelped from the overstimulation, and when you opened your eyes, he was rising from in between your legs. His licked at your slick still staining his lips, bringing your mouth to his again, letting you taste yourself. Your hands fisted into his shirt, downright desperate for more of him. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled back.

“I know it’s not ideal, given the place we’re in, but …” He cradled your face in both in his hands, as if you were just a baby bird. “Can I fuck you, Cherry?”

You nodded without hesitation, already drunk on his touch. You weren’t exactly sure how he planned on doing this. I mean … you two were in the dirty workshop area of an auto repair shop. This wasn’t exactly the best place to have sex. But then he was adjusting your position on the motorcycle, laying your head down by the handlebar and pulling your legs on both sides of the seat, your ass resting nicely in the curve. His hands were quick to roll off your panties.

“Ken,” you called out, sitting up a little and dragging your hand up. His white tank bunched up at the waist. “Wanna see more of you …”

Draken was so goddamn hard in his pants, his cock throbbing with the anticipation of being inside you, but you were just so pretty and he was putty in your hands. He let your palms explore him, lifting his tank top up so you could see what the fabric had been concealing. He’d really filled out since school – his arms were toned, his abdomen more defined. He looked like the statue of Apollo, all lean and muscled, but with just the right amount of grit. You liked that he never got his dragon tattoo removed (although, that would’ve been very painful), and that his piercings remained the same. Everything about him seemed untouched, but he’d just gotten better with age. Just the sight of him made your mouth water.

You leaned back down on the bike, bringing him down with you. Your lips pressed against his hungrily, and he was so, so tempted to slip his tongue into your mouth, when he felt his cock hard as a rock in his pants, aching and pulsating. His mouth broke away from yours, and he whispered, quite hopelessly, “I’m so sorry, but I really, really need to be inside you or my dick is going to explode.”

A chuckle escaped your lips, and just the sound of it made Draken smile. You nodded, urging him to continue, and he quickly unzipped the bottom half of his coveralls. He took his cock out: it was long, curved, pink at the tip, and leaking precum on the shop floor. All the more reason to be inside you; he couldn’t have his mechanics seeing that on the floor and wondering what he was doing after hours. He pulled a condom out from his wallet and slid the ribbed rubber on. Lifting both your legs onto his shoulders, your ass was almost rising off the seat and he positioned himself between your thighs, noticing the way your slick was smeared all over his seat. He grunted at the sight of it, slamming his cock into your without thinking.

You cried out, feeling him so deep so quickly. He held your legs up, leaning down as far as he could, and muttered, “Fuck, I’m sorry – so sorry – just … needed to be inside you. Needed to fuck you on my bike.”

You hand came up to cup his chin for a moment. “S’okay,” you promised, “just fuck me like you should’ve done years ago, Draken.”

He knew he told you to call him Ken, but just the nickname falling your lips in such a filthy manner had him groaning. Draken pulled out of you until only the tip remained, and then pounded his cock back inside you. You keened, trying to close your legs, but he held them up by his shoulders. He set a fast pace inside you, unable to keep his moans at bay, and slipped one hand off your leg to snake his fingers up your hoodie, pushing it up to your chin. Pulling your breasts out from your bra, his eyes clouded and played with your sensitive nipples. “So good,” he muttered, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a moment. “Feels so, so good … needed you for so long, Cherry.”

“I know, I know, Draken,” you whimpered, locking your arms around his neck to bring his face closer to yours, your thighs now curling against your chest. Your back ached against the seat and your legs burned from the uncomfortable position, but you wouldn’t dare push him away, not when he was filling you like this.

With his lips just grazing yours, he tugged on your lip, making you moan, and he fucked into you harder. Your nails were now dragging down his shoulders, leaving marks that he’d think about forever. “Fuck, I’m s’deep … so deep inside you. You’re so warm, so wet – fuck, I’m so close already.”

“Wait for me,” you begged, sighing as his cock curved against your sweet spot. “Wanna cum with you, Draken.”

“I know, Cherry,” he grunted, his pace relentless. Fuck, this was all he ever needed, all he wanted to do, forever. It felt like you were made to take him. “Touch yourself f’me. Cum together … we’ll cum together.”

You nodded quickly, moving your hand in between your bodies, finding your puffy clit so easily. A whine escaped your lips as you fingers rubbed little circles, getting you so close already. You just needed a little push. Draken was slamming into you, his breaths fanning your cheeks, and when he felt your legs start to shake, your walls clenching just a little, he almost died. “Such a good girl …” He cooed, nose brushing yours. “Touching yourself f’me so nicely … fuck, you take me so well … yes, yes, you’re so close. Just like that.”

Your fingers rubbed a little faster, and you knew your orgasm was imminent. With him pushing into you, filling you completely, and the stimulation on your clit … you felt your lips purse into an O-shape. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Draken. I’m gonna … fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, I know,” he groaned. “Fuck – gonna cum too. That’s a good girl … doing so good – fuck –”

His release came first. He had been close for so long, Draken was surprised he’d been able to hold back. He came with a loud groan, spilling himself into the condom, and it was only seconds later that your jaw went slack with pleasure. His name fell from your lips in a whimper, and you kept rubbing that aching clit through your orgasm, going tight around his cock. He wouldn’t stop fucking into you, even when your orgasm subsided, needing to feel you clench around him for just a moment longer. The way he filled you wasn’t like any other. You never wanted to feel empty again. You couldn’t, not when you knew how Ken Ryuguji felt inside you.

When you both eventually stopped trembling, he gently placed your legs back down on the sides of the bike. They felt sore and limp, but that was the last thing on your mind. You opened your eyes at the same time, and you both couldn’t help but laugh at the position you were in, the absurdity of it all. The workshop smelled like gas and oil, and you were surrounded by broken-down cars. But you two had fucked like you were in a bedroom, on a soft mattress, rather than a motorcycle. You hand went over your mouth to suppress your giggles.

Draken smiled with you, and then removed your hand, liking the way you laughed. “I know it’s been a long time coming, but … can I take you out some night?”

You couldn’t stop smiling even if you tried. “I’d like that, Ken.”

His cock had gone soft, but he was still nestled inside you, basking in your warmth. Draken wished he could be inside you forever, with your fingers playing with his hair. He would give anything for this moment to last, but he knew this position on the bike had to be the most uncomfortable for you, and he needed to take off this condom. He chuckled under his breath.

“Also, in case you were wondering,” he said, lips pulling into a smirk. “You can loiter around my waiting room anytime.”

731 notes · View notes

koolades-world · 2 months

Note

can i request MC randomly staring at them, and when questioned abt it, MC responds with something similar to “sorry you’re just so pretty” or maybe “do you know how pretty you are?”, or anything else like that with satan, solomon, barbatos, and lucifer?

side note completely unrelated to the headcanon: if i was sent to hell to hang out with the most beautiful men in existence, i don’t think i would be able to stop staring. you know? and i think they need some more compliments and praise. luci, that poor old man working and trying to keep the boys out of trouble 24/7. i don’t think i even need to explain mr. barbs, bro lives, eats, and breathes his job. AND BOTH OF THEM STILL LOOK BEAUTIFUL DOING IT. my excuse for adding solomon and satan is just that they’re pretty and they need to know it. i am just yapping at this point but if i was MC i would probably start with mammon and levi. it has probably been centuries since mammon has heard anything positive said about him and levi is just literally the epitome of insecurity. OOH and maybe even prioritize asmo while we’re at it, someone has got to tell him that his looks are not his only lovable trait 😭😭idk, am i allowed to ask for your opinions on silly questions outside of the headcanon request?

hello!! it's totally fine to ask my opinion on non-headcanons requests <3 it's so fun just getting to rave about things like that and it's always great to get the creative juices flowing haha. if you and other readers ever want to do this, feel so free!! i'd love to chat with you guys about the reason we are all gathered here today haha

you are so right anon. you are so incredibly based because omgod what the hell how are you all Adonis????? if I got teleported suddenly to the Devildom like that, I think I might pass out because hello??? I don’t think I’ve ever been in a room with so many gorgeous people? how are they so effortlessly attractive 😭 all of them need positive reinforcement and i think we would all jump at the chance to be their cheerleaders haha. knowing me, I would try to call them pretty and stumble over ever single word in the process, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

cute request btw!!

enjoy <3

Mc calls Lucifer, Satan, Barbatos and Solomon pretty

Lucifer

he was probably working but you somehow managed to get him to take a rare break

you’d brewed him his favorite; hell coffee. the smell plus youe big puppy dog eyes did the trick

he kind of expected you to want to chat, but to his surprise, the two of you sat mostly in silence

when he asked what the matter was, since you loved to talk during his breaks, the last thing he expected was for you to call him pretty

he blinks a couple times and stares at you back

he couldn’t get many words out, but he did manage to say thank you

as he sips his oh so bitter coffee, he couldn’t help but smile and wonder how he got so lucky

Satan

he probably acted like he expected it and responded smoothly while behind that put together, suave expression was a overthinking mess haha

the cafe you were at was busy, so the two of you were patiently waiting for your drinks

he was telling you all about the book he’d finished reading this morning, but you weren’t engaging with him like you usually do, so he asked if something was wrong

when you told him you were distracted by how pretty he was and how his excitement only made him even more attractive, he knew the perfect counter

despite that well timed and ready compliment back, he still found himself thinking about and getting bashful over your words

thankfully for him, your drinks finally arrived and the conversation took a different turn

but he won’t stop thinking about what you said

Barbatos

he doesn't notice you spacing out at first

he's in the middle of cooking dinner, and is currently refusing to let you help because you're his guest

in the middle of multitasking, he finally notices your eyes on him

he didn't stop working but he called out to you, asking if something was wrong

after you told him you were just admiring his beauty, he thinks about your words but continues to work

your words and unfaltering gaze actually managed to fluster him

congratulations :) you’ve done the impossible

Solomon

he thinks you’re joking at first actually

being silly and poking fun playfully is just so very him and he was probably in the middle of doing just so

maybe the two of you were attempting to do some homework or just lounging around together

you said that he was pretty so suddenly that he didn’t really register what you’d said so when he treats it as a joke, you repeat yourself

now you’ve got his attention and he makes you repeat it one final time

he calls you a cutie, or something along those lines and continues his fun banter, but you notice his lingering, adorable grin

it’s moments like this that make you realize you should tell him just how pretty everything about him was

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date?

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xozombiee · 11 months

Text

“𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝒀!” | C. KAMO

✫| synopsis: emoboy!choso who works at spencer’s sees how nervous you are about trying out a new toy, so he offers to help!

warnings: sex toy usage, pet names as always :3 (sweetheart, honey, baby, etc), lowkey switch!reader, braindead!choso at the end LMFAOO, little hair pulling, no protection used..wrap it up. uhhh idk what else

notes: uhh guys pretend that batteries are included for vibes LMFAOO and..do i have a thing for car sex?

your feet ache as you walk through the mall. a friend was supposed to meet you half an hour ago to go shopping for dresses, only for her to text and say ‘sorry gotta cancel’.

the public chatter of others fill your head as you walk. since you were already here, you figured you’d look around. it’s been a while since you’ve shopped for yourself, and you were in desperate need of a new vibrator.

a colorful sign from the distance catches your attention. it read ‘spencer’s’ in orangey-yellow words. they sold sex toys right? the last time you checked they did. your eyes light up, figure walking a little faster toward the store.

when you enter, you’re met with the sight of shirts on display against the wall, a rack of hoodies and sweatshirts with ugly anime designs on them, and the section with shot glasses with corny messages written on them.

you pretend to be just shopping for a few minutes, not wanting to immediately go to the back of the store. as you pick through some of the clothes on a rack, a voice startled you from behind.

“need help finding anything, ma’am?” the voice asks lowly.

turning swiftly, you’re met with the sight of a taller man. the name on his tag read ‘choso’ with a small sticker next to it. he was young, had piercings along his ears and one on his lip, and a faint pink scar along the bridge of his nose that stretched out to his cheeks.

and he was kinda cute.

you find yourself staring for longer than needed. with a quick nod, you advert your gaze to something else.

“no, no. i’m fine. thank you though.” you reply nervously.

“well, if you need anything just let me know, yeah?” he replies, sounding uninterested.

you give him another nod before he walks off, tending to other customers. watching him out of the corner of your eye, you sigh a little.

this was the reason why you needed a new vibrator immediately. any attractive male that approached you was in danger. you’re surprised you didn’t jump him when he first walked over.

when you make sure no one’s watching, you quickly make your way to the back of the store. the small pink and purple bullets and vibrators come into view as you try to casually approach.

after hiding your body between the shelves by the wall, you look at all of your options. a bullet? nah, you’d already tried that. maybe go for something bigger?

your gaze catches on a cute, pink 8.5 inch vibrator with a ‘rabbit’ attached. before you can even stop yourself, you reach for it. the box made seem like the size was nothing. with a small shrug, you clutch the box next to your thigh. you had to find something else to buy with it.

yes, buying sex toys was normal to society, but it wasn’t normal for you.

after maybe ten minutes, you cautiously make way to the cashier. your eyes are glued to the floor as you put your things up on the counter. hopefully no one would see you walking out the store with a pink dildo in your bag.

“find everything alright?” that voice says again.

you look up with wide eyes, the pierced man with two space buns staring back at you. choso held no amusement in his eyes like you thought he would; he was nonchalant if anything. you give him a nod, looking to the snacks hanging from the counter.

your voice was weak, “a little..overwhelmed, but yeah.”

he flashes you a small smile, putting the toy and socks into a bag. “overwhelmed? this your first time shopping for—” he pauses, glancing down at the bag.

it was obvious he was just trying to make conversation, but you weren’t all that interested. still, you tried to be respectful.

“er..not really. i mean, i’ve had one before, but it’s-” you cut yourself off, cringing at how pathetic you sounded. “i’ve never tried that kind before.” you answer, going a little quiet at the end.

he raises a brow, “never had one with the rabbit?” he asks without really putting thought into his words.

a small nervous laugh falls from you, shaking your head in reply. with that, he leans forward a little, his eyes scanning your figure.

“i’ll show you how to use it if you want.”

your mouth goes dry, looking at him slightly appalled.a chill went up your spine from just his words. your shaky hands move to grab your wallet, brain attempting to find the words wanting to be freed from your throat.

you blink a few times, “you’ll show me? as in..”

choso looks at you, the uninterested expression still on his face. “my shift ends in twenty. i’m parked on the side by macy’s.” he says, watching a few people walk into the store.

now…you’d be an idiot to not meet him. but the contemplation was there. you could just go home, try the toy out yourself. that’d be the sane thing to do.

however, you hadn’t used that small little bullet on your bedside in months since buying a new one was always something you brushed off. so, you weren’t gonna miss this chance to get some dick.

you insert your card into the reader, feeling choso’s eyes on you. when the small device rings, you take it out, putting it back in your wallet.

he hands you the bag, your fingers brushing over his as you take it. it was like an electric current ran into your arm by his touch. you chew on the skin inside your cheek, feet staying planted in front of the counter despite your head telling you to move.

“i’ll see you in twenty.” you say, slowly walking away from the counter.

choso watches you in surprise. he partly only said that for a reaction, the sadist in him wanting to see your cute little eyes widen from his words.

when you exit the store, turning around the corner and leaving his sight with your cute skirt flowing, the crotch in his sweats begin to harden. it left little for an imagination choso wouldn’t need now, and every tomorrow, he hopes.

twenty minutes seem to pass quickly. you stand outside the macy’s entrance, mindlessly scrolling on your phone. the doors slide open, the sound catching your attention. you look up to see choso, space buns and all.

he nods toward the parking lot, motioning for you to follow. and you do, like a clueless puppy. choso leads you to a black colored toyota parked in the back of the lot.

his thumb presses one of the buttons on his keys, unlocking the car with a noise. he pulls you to the passengers side, opening the door for you. his hand finds your lower back as you climb inside. when he assures you’re in all the way, he closes the door.

you watch him from inside, his legs carrying him to the drivers side slower than you’d prefer. when he gets in, he settles into the seat with a soft groan. his hand finds the ignition, slotting the key in and turning it to start the car.

it rumbles lightly, the sound filling the silence between you two. you watch as he turns the wheel with one hand as the car starts to move.

minutes start to pass as you watch him, not even questioning where you were going. he could’ve been taking you somewhere to kill you..would you care? not really.

when he finally parks, you’re in a more secluded area of the mall parking lot. he was near the empty sears that had been closed for about five years, the blue sign still hanging high up.

choso glances over at you, or rather the bag in your lap that you clutched tightly onto.

“open it up.”

you blink at him for a second before complying, hands moving to unravel it from the bag. your delicate fingers try to tear the tape off of it, but struggle as it’s not letting up against the box.

he notices, lip twitching at the side as he watched. one of his hands come up to your wrist, taking the box in his other. you watch as he slowly pulls a blade from his pocket, cutting through the tape with ease.

choso notices your expression, the confusion written all over it as your eyes continue to look at the blade.

he chuckles, closing it and putting it back into his pants. “i was opening some new merch that came in the store today. forgot to give it back to yuki.”

you let a small ‘oh’ fall from your lips in understanding. choso takes the box back into his grasp, unraveling the toy from its packaging. the sight of something pink comes into view, and your eyes widen at how small it looks in his hand.

choso fidgets with it, “you said you’ve never tried one of these?”

“no.” you reply, keeping your eyes trained on the object in his hand. “i’ve only ever used one of the bullets.”

he sighs a little, looking up at you. “get in the back.”

you look at him, brows raised in surprise, “what?”

the pierced male leans forward, his face inches from your own. “get in the back.”

despite the music from the car’s stereo playing lowly in the background, your audible gulp overpowered it. you let out a shaky breath as you move to your knees, climbing into the backseat of the car.

he watches you, the skirt you wore lifting up as you shoved yourself in the back. choso followed soon after, moving to sit beside you in the closed space.

you watch him from the other side of the backseat with your shoulders pressed against the window. one of your legs propped itself onto the seat between you two, the other on the floorboard.

choso glances down at your underwear that was shying underneath the cloth on your legs. a small wet patch adorned the lacy piece you wore. his hand slowly moves to you ankle, his thumb moving back and forth against your skin.

“is it okay if i touch you?” he asks in a whisper.

a quick nod comes from you in response. your eager eyes watch him, expecting him to move closer to you.

his hand trails up further on your leg, “words, sweetheart.”

“please, choso.” you whine, enjoying that electric feeling from his skin on yours again.

choso gives you a sympathetic look. “please what? need you to be specific, honey.”

“touch me.”

he lets his hand move up your leg, making its way to your upper thigh. one side of your skirt pushes up, giving him a clearer view of your underwear. he smiles slightly at the cute purple lining that stuck to your lower stomach.

you feel his hand pull you down a little by your hip, back fully against the seat. his hand moves back to stay planted on your stomach, the fabric of your skirt now in his palm. his other hand picks the dildo back up that sat on the console, pressing onto the ‘on’ button.

the sound echos through the car, making the anxiety in your stomach build up. choso looks down at you, his hooded eyes boring into your soul.

he doesn’t give you a warning before he’s pressing the baby pink toy to your underwear. a small gasp evokes from you, back arching against the seat. choso slowly moves his hand on your stomach down to your hip, keeping that side in place.

everything felt heavenly. vibrations moved into your cunt, making your chest heave. your thighs want to shut together, but choso’s body keeps you from doing so.

“shh. you’re okay, baby.” he mutters, continuing to press the vibrator into the fabric.

you let out soft groans and gasps when the toy hits against your clit just right. when you feel that euphoric tightness in your lower stomach, your hand moves to clutch onto choso’s wrist.

“wait-” you whisper out, “want more.”

choso raises his brows, continuing his movement with the toy against you. your head falls back, hand clutching onto his wrist as the pressure builds up.

your jaw slightly hangs open but no words were escaping your lips, just soft cries. choso watched the scene intently as you squeezed your eyes shut and your body spasmed. you came hard, drenching those lace panties even more with your cum.

the sound of your heart beat in your ears lets you know you’re still alive. you listen as choso turns the toy off momentarily. “that was quick.” he comments as your heavy breaths fill the car.

you open your eyes to shoot a meaningless glare at him. he doesn’t say anything, only rubbing small circles on your hip.

“it was barely anything.” he says with a small shrug, “we should test it out with the panties off.”

with a small nod and ‘yes’ requested from him, his fingers start to dip underneath the band of the purple underwear. choso slides them off with ease after letting you lift your hips to get them closer to the ground.

you feel the somewhat cool air hit your pussy that was glistening. a sudden burst of vulnerability comes over you as you press your thighs together to hide from the man that sits in front of you.

his fingers move up your calves, up to the side of your thighs. he brushes them gently, keeping eye contact with you. “don’t need to hide from me, honey.”

at that, you slowly return to your state from before. he watches your pretty pussy come into view, his gaze going sinister at the sight. choso moves one of his hands to the edge of your core, hovering his palm just above your clit.

“so gorgeous.” he mutters, mostly to himself.

the sound of the toy starts up again. you’d figure he’d give a warning before putting it in, but he doesn’t. choso watches your eyes widen as he inserts all four inches of the dildo inside, the rabbit moving along your clit.

an unfamiliar hunger overtook his existence as he watched you squirm underneath him. choso slowly slotted the pink toy back and forth inside of you. you struggled to find something to hold as the pleasure took over your senses.

your hand is suddenly enwrapped by his, that electric current returning to your skin. he moves it to rest beside your head, his other hand maneuvering against you.

the sound of your pleasure almost makes choso’s head spin. he wants nothing more than to throw the plastic toy out of the window and shove his dick all the way into you. but he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself. you seemed like such a sweet girl, and he didn’t want to ruin that.

“mm..’m close, choso.” you rasp, looking into his eyes. “don’t wanna cum with that.”

choso looks at you dumbfounded, trying to process your words. he watches you reach for his hand, pulling the pink toy away from your pussy.

you lean up, pressing your forehead against his. “would you fuck me if i asked nicely?”

“don’t bother.”

not even a millisecond passes after his words before his lips are attaching to yours. choso discards the toy to the front seats, pulling you closer to him.

you feel the hardness under his sweats pressing into you. with a small wiggle of your hips, he lets out a sigh into your lips. his hands find their way to your waist, pulling you up from laying against the seat.

choso places you into his lap, hands curled around the back of your thighs. his head moves upward to keep the connection between your tongues. you bite down onto his bottom lip, and his hands squeeze your flesh.

“please.” you murmur against him, “don’t tease, choso.”

he pulls his mouth away from yours, looking into those gorgeous irises you held. “i like the way you say my name.” he whispers.

you feel his hands remove themselves from you, going to the waistband of his sweats. within a moment, they’re pulled to his thighs. choso looks up at you in anticipation.

“goin’ at your pace, baby.”

your hands fall onto his built chest as you sink all the way down on him, driving the entirety of him deep within you. his hands fly to your hips when it you flutter around him, but then grabs for your wrist on his chest, intertwining your fingers with his.

a moment passes before you begin to lift your hips up and down, pushing his length through you. your movements, your warm skin, fluttering eyes—it's so overwhelming for choso. his head falls back, and even though you’re going at such a slow pace, it feels like you’re milking him, intent on making him fill you to the brim.

choso looks up at you, his brows furrowed with sweat building between them. his face is flushed, highlighting the scar on his nose. you almost cum right then and there from the sight of him looking so desperate.

when you speed up, he groans loudly. “you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

moving closer to his ear, “that was the intent.” you whisper.

he unsuccessfully stifles a groan when your breath meets his ear. his hands are loosely closed around your thighs, not even wanting to press you tighter against him because his brain is practically melting.

you tug on the buns in his hair, forcing him to lock his gaze with yours. the pain in his scalp doesn’t phase him, in fact, he feels himself getting closer from the feeling. he watches your expression change with each thrust, holding him in your hand like a puppet.

“so fuckin’ pretty, choso.” you gasp, kissing up his neck.

he inhales sharply from your praise, “fuck—”

you looked godly--his savior, and your pussy was one squeeze away from sending him to heaven. you were giving him this gift of riding him and god he was so grateful for it--for you.

“feels ‘s good,” he whimpers, looking at you through half lidded eyes.

when you feel him twitch inside of you, your legs find what’s left of the energy you have left to quicken your pace even more. "come on baby, come on," you whisper to him.

he isn't used to this. he isn't used to being guided to his orgasm first, but he his brain is dissociating. he can't think of anything else--he's lost control over his brain and he feels himself tip over the edge of an orgasm.

choso groans when you flutter around him as you cum. he’s thrusting his hips up into you with a newfound force. it requires you to tighten your grip on his shoulders to stay put as he empties his load deep inside you, his sweet moans intercepted with apologies.

hours could’ve gone by, and you wouldn’t realize it. your body lays atop of him, hands lazily gripping onto his shoulders. choso doesn't pull out his cock, keeping it buried inside of you.

his hands are locked together, circled around your waist. his breathing has evened out along with yours, and the only thing filling the silence is the radio that’s barely above zero on the stereo.

“so..did you like the toy?”

#xozombiee #choso kamo #choso x reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso smut #choso my beloved #choso x female reader #choso my beautiful babygirl #jjk #jjk x reader #CHOSO PLEASEE LET ME RIDE JT #i’m so normal about him guys

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 5 months

Note

I'm talking like.... chaste kisses and handholding for like 6 months or smth. Cuddling gradually gets thrown in the mix but like... idk trust takes time. Like the relationship is progressing at the pace of couple of middle schoolers.

And like theres a heart to heart about what ur cool with, what Simon's cool with.... if one of you is uncomfortable for any reason or just straight up don't want physical contact u guys don't find it rude to full out say "hey don't touch me rn." "I love ya but I don't want a hug" "I need personal space"

THAT SAID SOMETIMES YOU GUYS ARE STUCK TO EACHOTHER LIKE BARNACLEs

-🔪

FUCK IT. I'M DOING IT.

words: 750~ cw: 09 Ghost backstory (implied)

Slow.

Not in a torturous way, no.

It's a peaceful kind of slow.

Because you're sort of like him, aren't you? You don't want to be touched blindly and constantly.

You don't need to.

So it's slow.

Sitting on the couch with a gap between you.

A gap that gets smaller and smaller.

You see it happening.

Like a stray cat who inches ever closer to the human that feeds it on the street every day.

Slow progress. One inch at a time.

That's Simon Riley for you.

One day your knees brush together. His doing.

The next, slowly, his whole leg presses against yours.

Then his shoulder and arm.

The skin where his glove doesn't quite meet his sleeve, exposed, rubs against yours on accident one time. It was warm, sent a tingle down his spine.

He sets his hand on yours, open palm against yours, fingers pressing on yours, not intertwined, just touching, wrists rubbing together, seeking a friction he never quite knew he wanted to feel.

Then his fingers lock onto yours.

From then, he begins carefully bringing your hand up with his, fingers tangled resting on his knee, his arm laced with yours.

He very carefully holds your hand in public, making sure you don't get lost. Fidgets with your fingers when he's bored. Takes it with progressively more confidence.

Then, he starts putting his head on you, tentatively so, causing you to freeze every time he does it, regarding him from the corner of your eye like he might get spooked and go away if you move.

He sets it on the crown of your head the first time, then, on your shoulder, always looking away, feigning disinterest, his thumb, meanwhile, rubbing your knuckles and palm and back.

Then he sets it down on your chest one time, very tentatively so. It's Simon's favorite spot, you've come to notice. Hearing your heartbeat, your breathing, feeling it rise and fall.

Then, he's on your lap. A head setting there as he watches TV, trying to act like he's not vibrating inside, with both anxiety and pleasure.

He takes your hand one day and sets it on his head. You leave it be, simply holding him there, as dead weight...

Until he starts softly rubbing against it, seeking your fingers, your palm. Then, you start caressing his hair. You do it anytime now.

His own hands seek you out very gingerly. He holds your waist, or your hips, or your wrists more often than not, like it's fragile material, that might break under him.

He resumes his little head exploration. Mostly setting his temple against yours, his forehead on yours, his nose on yours. He closes his eyes for those, not quite wanting to see...

Simon nuzzles his large nose against your cheek one time, very gently so, and your lips rub together, and he presses in, like he's fearfully stepping into a minefield.

It feels warm, and nice, your lips are soft and give under his, never pushing back too hard, letting him set the pace.

You start kissing all the time from then on, his hands carefully holding some part of you, chaste kisses, and nuzzling into you like a cat trying to leave his scent.

It's not like he doesn't know what he's doing, before everything, Simon had had his fair share of 'escapades'... But it's all different now. So much different.

The first time his lips part and carefully swipe at your bottom lip, it surprises you. Months worth of chaste kisses suddenly cut off by a new advancement. He liked the sound you made. So he started doing that more often.

His tongue would swipe at your lips, until slowly it breached them, poking inside to find yours and, and, with a sigh that sounded like a weight off his shoulders, rubbing them together softly.

Then that turned into more confident touches, fingers digging in, into your body, waist, hip, thighs, arms..., and guiding your hands to places he trusted you to touch and knead at. His shoulders, his biceps, his hip.

Simon'd slot all his weight atop of you, trapping you to the couch or mattress and make out with you, shuddering as your thighs softly squeezed his hip. His hands sliding up and down, caressing, slowly, mapping out where he could and should go.

He never felt so safe as when he had his hands slotted on your body, kneading greedily onto you, yours caressing up his back, his mouth busy with your tongue, and his mind void of any thoughts other than the sound of your breathing and the way your chest rose and fell against his own.

(I GOT LAZY FOR THE SMUT PART, SORRY)

#ikea writes 💚#asks #🔪 anon #simon riley headcanons #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod headcanons #cod mw #canon 09 ghost backstory #09 ghost backstory #09 ghost

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superblysubpar · 4 months

Text

thank you so much for requesting @retrosabers soooooooooooooo...idk what this is. but it turned into a makeup sex, kind of angry with steve, to I guess, the beginnings of the "How Sweet It Is AU" for me?? - you could just read this as stand alone smut, but please read the warnings below if you're unfamiliar with that AU and don't want a pretty big surprise at the end!

2,119 words

warnings: mentions of wearing Steve's boxers, SMUT (piv intercourse - creampie, angry/makeup sex & all the language and actions that may go with it - some kingish steve vocabulary if you will)| pregnant reader announcement - see How Sweet It Is AU warnings for more | my blog is 18+

Late Summer, Early Fall, 1986

Your fingers slip from his neck and shoulders, sweat slicked tan skin there making the bright red of the scratches you made brighter. Angrier.

They match the mood - the deep lines between his brows, the pout of your lips, the brutal punch of his thrust inside of you, the clench of your jaw so you don’t do something satisfying like scream his name or fuck, say sorry.

Neither of you can remember what started it now. You said something bratty, he said something even more so. Sharp tones and stressful weeks. Cupboards and drawers with volume and slams worthy of a battle of the bands. Silent tooth brushing while glaring at one another in the mirror sessions, and purposeful, childish things, like making only enough coffee for one cup each morning.

Not that you had even wanted any today.

The sun was brutal, the AC was busted, and Steve had found you lying on the hard kitchen floor, practically naked, and sipping something out of a blue, glass mason jar that was sweating more than you.

He’d swallowed at the sight of your stomach and arms fully on display, the curve of lace over your chest, his boxers rolled over your thighs too high to be decent if you stood. Perhaps Steve could have taken the gesture of you wearing next to nothing as a white flag, but all he could think about was how hot he was, how tight the tie was around his neck, and how he was mad at you for a reason he didn’t even remember.

Steve stepped over to the thermostat and without opening your eyes you called, “No difference.”

“When’s the last time you checked?” He grumbled under his breath, tapping at it with a roll of his eyes. “No difference.”

“Right,” you propped up on your elbows, glaring at him as you snapped, “Like I just said.”

He looked right at you for what felt like the first time in years, when really it had only been a day or two. But the sight of eyes that were honey turned hard, though just as sticky as they lingered on your own, had something in your chest warming.

Steve glanced down at your body again as he yanked at his tie, throwing it on the counter before taking on his naturally annoyed position of hands on his hips. His fingers flexed against them while his head tilted in a way that exposed his throat more, made it easy to follow his swallow or the bead of sweat curving down his jaw. It made you want to curse whatever god created this man, and that was before he opened his mouth with a tone bitchy enough to match his pose.

“Can you put a shirt on?”

The bite of his question made your eyes narrow, made you stick out your peachy, lace covered chest more just to spite him. His gaze returned to yours, challenging, fire burning between you both making his gaze molten - pure lava that was sure to consume you before you even had the thought of running from it.

You stood as he harshly unbuttoned the white button down he was dressed in, revealing dark chest hair and the gold chain nestled there, both threatening to make you fold first, but you couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

His finger’s movements slowed as they worked at the cuffs when you set your glass on the counter. As you took a step closer, then another, you both refused to break eye contact until your chests were almost touching and your chin tipped up at him in your own challenge back.

“Make me.”

The space between your lips buzzed, his cupid’s bow mocking you, the heave of your chest doing the same to him.

Maybe you tilted higher first, maybe he bent lower, but your lips crashed into each other - literally.

Teeth against plush bottom lips and noses bumping, hands gripping at each other like you’re about to push the other off, yet you both only get closer.

Steve pants into your mouth, his fingers dig into the skin just below your ribs as he pushes you in a direction clumsily, till your back is hitting the counter and you can feel how hard he already is as he pulls your hips against his own.

You don’t give him the satisfaction of making any noise when his thumb brushes over a hard nipple through lace, or when his tongue meets yours. He doesn’t give you any either when you pull a little hard at the hair at the back of his head and roll your hips.

Neither of you say a word or let your faces show any sign that this is all exactly what you want, what you need when he pushes at the boxers and lets them fall to the floor as he lifts you onto the counter or when you pull and push at his belt and dress slacks enough to free his length.

Steve slips up a little when you wrap your hand around him, his head thrown back and teeth digging into his lip, fists forming against the counter next to your thighs with each slow tug.

“What’s the matter Steve?” Faux pouting lips form the coy question while your hand pumps faster. You smirk when Steve lets loose a shaky exhale on your next words. “You wanna tell me how good it feels? How turned on you are right now? How sor-“

You inhale sharply when his thumbs spread you and a low rumble leaves his lips, too close to your ear, “Oh babe…me? I think if anyone here is turned on it’s-fuck.”

Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass and pushing him closer so his tip hits your entrance, your hand glides it through your folds dripping around him already, teasing at your clit then back down.

“Speaking of fuck-oh.”

Your brows knit together, lips clamp shut as he slides into you slowly. His chest is heaving, white button down open so you could scrape you nails down the gray tank top revealed to you now, but you don’t. Your eyelashes are fluttering, fingers slipping against the counter and back arching so he could go deeper.

He doesn’t.

Steve keeps his thrusts shallow and slow, only giving you just enough to make you angry. Your cheeks grow hot, spine tingling, tongue pushing against your teeth with every glide in, silently willing, begging, him to go deeper.

Your clit throbs, heels dig into him, but Steve stands firm, watching you closely, waiting till you look up at him.

One damp strand of brown hair falls over his forehead, while eyes soften towards you again. Sweat rolls down his temple, each pulse of his steady heartbeat making his cologne sharper, mint and cedar distracting you, placating you. When you grip at his shoulders, finally touching him again, he exhales as his name leaves you in a whisper.

“Steve,” your fingers grip the collar of his button down, “More.”

As your hands slip, nails curling into his chest, Steve finally gives you more.

Then he stops.

Pressed against you, he inhales slow and steady, watching you. His arms flex around yours as his palms press to the cool counter, ignoring how thrilled he is to feel you fluttering around him fully now.

He grins, finally, when a whine bubbles out of your throat at the lack of movement. He can’t help himself, raising his pitch and mocking your words earlier, “What’s the matter? Wanna tell me how good it feels? Wanna tell me you’re sor-“

“I said more,” you gasp around the words, rolling your hips until his hands fly to them and hold them in place.

Steve looks at you seriously, black lust filled pupils taken over his gaze, and his tongue slides over his bottom lip before he speaks, like he’s debating his words.

“I did give you more. Want something else? Gonna have to be specific babe. Maybe use a word that starts with ‘P’ and ends with leas-“

“Fucking, fuck me, Harrington!” You grip the cotton tank between your fingers, voice hot and body hotter and only getting more so when he throws his head back in a laugh. A laugh which only makes you clench around him more and spurring him on.

“Harrington?! Did you just call me Harrington and then tell me to fuck you?!” He grins wider, his perfect smile on display, like he just can’t help himself.

“Would you prefer King Ste-ohmygod!”

Steve pulls out and thrusts into you hard, his forehead furrowed as his mouth searches for yours. You meet him in a kiss that starts with another gasp as he sets a brutal pace. Your fingers slip around his neck and he lays over you so your back is against the counter. His hands drag you to the edge still, so his hips can meet yours over and over again as his tongue works at the seam of your lips once more.

He slows his kiss down, sucking on your bottom lip and pulling, breath exhaled against your cheek through his nose as your back arches and your nails leave their marks. Steve keeps thrusting, coarse hair hitting your clit that only aches for more when he releases your mouth. Lips kiss bitten and parting in shock when he speaks down to you with a deep and hoarse gravel, chest heaving as his nails scratch down your thigh.

“Am I fucking you good enough, honey?” He pushes at your legs, bending them up and towards your chest so you do cry out as he somehow gets more inside of you, “Feel that? Feel how deep I am?”

He rolls his hips, a thumb pressed to your clit and you break, the lava creeping closer.

Steve groans when you gasp a yes, a more.

He thrusts faster, hands skating over your body, pulling and tugging you closer to him, lips brushing against your jaw then your neck as he speaks.

“Wanna come for me baby? Feels like you do, this pussy’s just crying around me.”

You gasp at the filth coming out of him, hating that it only makes him slip inside of you easier, faster.

Steve lets your legs fall, guiding one around his hip and the other pressed next to your head, his torso rising so his gaze can stay on where your bodies meet with an intensity you haven’t quite seen before. He looks like an older version of a Steve you met a long time ago.

Realizing now, his pants aren’t even down, his shirt only just unbuttoned, chain glistening in damp chest hair. His forearm veins and shoulders flex with determination you used to see on a court, jaw pulsing, and his brow sweating, but no longer furrowed - like he knows he’s won. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, tongue between his lips as his thumb swipes over your clit in a large figure eight and you jolt. His hand reflexively pushes your shoulder down, while he keeps working on the swollen nerves in time with his thrusts.

Each pass, each thrust, is a clock counting down drowning out a crowd for him, knowing if he just keeps going, he’ll make it. For you, it’s lava gaining ground, inches from your demise, the heat licking at your body now enough for you to cry out his name just like an adoring fan.

Steve grunts, brow furrowed again so he can focus on what he’s trying to say.

“Oh, it’s first name basis again, yeah? Did that good of a job? An-another slut satisfied with their fuck from Harrington?”

You cry out a yes, literally, your orgasm breaking over you in multiple releases. You clench around him, thighs tightening on his hips and Steve’s rhythm stutters as you take everything he gives you. The rush of every pent up emotion makes it’s way over your lash lines. Angry tears, sad tears, relieved tears. Maybe delirious as you start laughing, fingers swiping at them and Steve’s head whips up.

He slips out of you with a wince, his fingers catching the tears and his forehead furrowed with worry now, “Baby, babe. Hey, hey, hey, what’s-I’m sorry, that was too far, I thought you-“

“Steve,” you hiccup, fingers catching his, eyes doing the same to worried and back to warm honey irises.

He waits, thumbs soothing over yours only pausing when you speak again. The scratches on his neck and shoulders pink now, less angry - sorry. They match the pink lips that part, the cheeks that stand out behind tear tracks. They still match the mood.

Softer.

Sweeter.

Just like the words leaving your lips.

“I’m pregnant.”

#superbly subpar steve smut #superbly subpar's writing #How Sweet It Is AU #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington blurb

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iactuallykissedsharawheeler · 1 year

Text

⭑⌗ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐂𝐒 + 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✶ let's go ahead and clear that idea that ellie wouldn't be like. immediately obsessed with you and giving you secret discounts on the weed.

✶ she met you five seconds ago and she was like. why would she ever pay for anything?? she's literally my reason for breathing?? (ok babe 😭) so you're getting that stuff for lowest price she can possibly make it. and if you flirt a little?? she's wondering why she's not just handing you the bag for free.

✶ when you guys get closer, she notices you're kinda into pink so when she sees pink papers???? she's SLAMMING that card, best believe. when you're freaking and like HOWD YOU GET THIS she's trying to pretend to be all cool like oh idk just found 'em and thought it'd be funny but if you like 'em you can have them ... i guess 😒

✶ if you're a little inexperienced with it she's a little protective and is like oh i don't think you should try that this one's way better and gives it to you on the house like?? you're trying to pay for it and she's like noooo it's for you just take it even though that was some of her good weed and she never gives that out. but you're nice and sweet and her bestest customer so who is she to charge you??

✶ when y'all are closer she literally just starts buying shit for you. you're like oh my gosh this bracelet is literally so pretty and next time you come over she's like so.. guess what and there's the bracelet in a box under two pretty pre-rolls (that she's also not letting you pay for btw)

✶ n you're so worried about breaking her bank when she does it but she's literally living lavish because she's everyone's dealer and no one with weed isn't getting it from her. (charismatic queen tbh)

✶ plus if you think this is gonna kill her wallet just wait until you guys start actually dating. she's not even waiting for you to ask for shit, she's telling you to put your cart on public so she can surprise you all the time.

✶ you're like babe how am i gonna pay you back and she's like just .. be pretty for me, yeah? 's not hard for you at all. (just flustered myself give me a minute)

✶ and some random things i just think she'd do:

✶ texting you high out of her mind about dinosaur facts because she just knows too much and needs to get it out immediately (she's such a nerd I love it 😭)

✶ trying to shotgun with you but she sees your face lookin' all pretty n dazed, chokes on the smoke, and just simply never does it after that. (give her a week, she'll be back)

✶ reading a shit ton of sci-fi. she compulsively reads savage starlight all the time but she's actually obsessed with the whole genre n can't exist without it atp (she DEFINITELY owns a few space cowboy books and before meeting you she would always imagine she was the lead guy with the hot love interest who was definitely some kind of alien. don't question it.)

✶ if you're a plushie girlie (me fr) she's ALWAYS buying you plushies. but she always buys one that matches yours for herself so you guys are "always together" or something. idk she's a little bit of a loser.

✶ she's so bad at keeping up with skincare but now she just weaponises that and makes you do it for her. literally rolling her eyes and pouting if you do yours without her, mumbling shit like "oh yeah, just forget about ellie, huh? that's what they all do" until you're like babe what??? 😭

✶ also i know that everyone says this but she really does own some weird ass shirts 😭😭 she'll get high and buy weird shit like that shirt that just says tomatoes it's so wild going through her closet lmaoo

✶ and because of her high shopping she also has some weird ass bongs like. seriously. there's a an astronaut one with octopus legs for sure, i can feel it.

✶ high ellie tweets>> she's actually so out of pocket sometimes 😭 some of her greatest hits would probs be

✶ also she was so nervous around you and wouldn't look you in the eye for too long because she didn't wanna scare you but then she got a little bold when she found out you liked girls and then was just straight up cocky when she realised you liked her, too (that blunt flick when dina said she wanted her to kiss her .. yeah that ellie)

✶ she's just the bestest, silliest, nerdiest girl ever and the best girlfriend literally anyone could ask for 💞💞

hey guys back with another banger hope you guys enjoyed make sure to like follow and subscribe‼️ no but seriously give me opinions because i love hearing you guys have little convos and the reposts are always so wild 😭😭 thank you new jersey, and goodnight (also don't look at the tags im shy) as alwaysss creds to @ cafekitsune bc these dividers are so mf cute

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luveline · 1 year

Note

hi!!! i really love your writing, i was thinking maybe i could request something for the steve zombie! au? maybe the reader and steve get separated (maybe the reader and eddie go outside of camp and don’t come back for a couple of days, so steve thinks something went wrong and maybe someone got to them) but after days they reunite and it all protective steve fluff? idk if you don’t like it it’s fine just ignore me hehe 🫶🏼

sorry this wasn't very angsty but there is fluff! ty for requesting ♡ steve zombie au. fem!reader, 1.4k

You and Eddie lie with an amicable space between you, though you've agreed to share a huge sleeping bag to conserve a modicum of heat. His hair touches your shoulder whenever he moves.

"Why are you looking at me?" you ask.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly.

"No. I… yeah, I'm okay."

Eddie never tries anything, doesn't touch you beyond friendly pats on the shoulder or knuckle touches after a job well done. He's never given you any reason to worry, but Steve said he's a guy. He didn't think Eddie was gonna hurt you, but there was a possibility he'd flirt. All I'm saying is that it didn't take long for me to fall in love with you, Steve'd said, his hands in your waistband, tucking in your shirt.

You laughed. Steve, you didn't like me.

Well, not out loud. And I was dumb enough to miss how lucky I was for a while. Eddie's not that stupid. He's not gonna try nothing, but… You know, don't fall in love with him. Please.

You'd wrapped your arms around his neck and shoulders and had him take your weight, impressed and in love at the subtle strength he used to keep you both standing. Don't worry. I won't. I never would.

Not with Steve in this world. Even then, if Steve somehow met his demise, you're pretty sure you'd be done with love.

"Worrying about loverboy?" Eddie asks.

You're definitely worrying about loverboy. "I told him I'd be back in the morning. It's been a whole extra day. He gets– gets so worried. Honestly, it won't surprise me if he turns up looking for us."

"You've been apart?"

"Two or three times." You wince, thinking about Steve the last time you'd been separated. How he'd put his hands under your arms and hugged you, even though you couldn't open your eyes. The time before, how he'd cried into your stomach, hands grasping blindly at your back. "I think he worries about me 'cos I'm kind of useless."

"That's not true. Robin told me all about your psycho takeover."

"She did?" you ask, covering your face with your hand.

"I wanted to know why she calls you killer."

"That's pretty much the only time I've defended myself. He always does the hard work."

"If you're really that useless, why'd you come?" He turns on his side away from you. "You're fine. You've learned to fight just like the rest of us. Steve knows you can take care of yourself. He's probably sleeping like a baby waiting for you to bring him back his new jacket."

You dig for the necklace Steve gave you so long ago under your shirt. You'd thought you lost it, having taken it off before bed the night you escaped the College, but he had it. He gave it back. The little diamond is hard between your fingers. You press it to your lips, wondering if he's really as okay as Eddie claims.

—

Steve lies on his back in the clearing, wishing he was dead. The anxiety is genuinely so bad he's agonised and prone.

Robin laughed at him for worrying when you didn't show up in the morning as you planned to, but by nightfall she was equally worried. A day later, she sits cross legged by his head, her hand on his arm. She's feigning reading, her bottom lip nibbled raw.

"You want some chapstick?" he asks.

"Nah. Stings."

He sits up feeling like someone's kicked him all over. "The brain is a stupid organ. I'm worried about Y/N, so sure, I get to feel like a jet engine fell on me."

"She's fine." He and Robin have been playing a game where one of them mentions you and the other immediately reassures that you're alive. He quite likes it. It makes it easier to breathe. "You need to chill out, that's all. Eddie had that fucking shotgun. They're not in any danger."

"What if she fell and broke her leg or something? He's carrying her across the country like a backpack. That should be me."

"What if he fell and broke his leg? You wanna go give Eddie a lift?" Robin asks, grinning.

Steve thinks the worst part is that he misses you. He's so worried about you he could throw up (he almost did at breakfast, every mouthful cement thick), but he just hates turning to talk to you and finding empty space. He misses the way you smile, your tentative hand holding, even the way you look at him. He remembers the first time he realised you liked him, how your gaze had slowly gone from annoyed to admiring, how your eyes would catch on his arms or the corner of his mouth.

He remembers wiping sleep from your eyes, how hot your cheek felt under hand, and the pit it opened in his stomach. It's a strange thing to notice someone's fallen in love with you by themselves. He had catching up to do. It's probably why he feels like he's on death's door whenever you're not around.

"I don't wanna give Munson anything. S'already stealing my girl, smarmy bastard. They ran away to be together."

Robin gasps. He thinks, Well, I was kidding, then, Holy shit they've actually run away together.

"Stevie!" your voice echoes. "Hey! I've been looking all over for you, why are you guys out here?"

Steve's neck clicks like a Jacob ladder as his head whips up. The fear and anxiety drains from his body, a rapid exsanguination. You look tired but blissfully alive as you jog across the grass clearing, your backpack weighed down and your empty canteens rattling against your thigh.

Steve trips over grass whorls to get to you. Your little laugh before he grabs you drives him crazy.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he asks.

"Got lost. Sorry. Love you," you say, rubbing your cheek against his, your hands bunching up his shirt. You smell like dirt, grass, and tent plastic. It's frankly the best smell in the whole world. He sniffs at you greedily.

"I thought you died," he says.

"Yeah, I did. Eddie gave me sloppy CPR–" You screech as Steve sweeps your leg from under you and giggle as he holds you up, begging for forgiveness as he threatens to drop you. "Sorry, it was just so easy! You set it up for me!"

You laugh as he drags a kiss along your jaw, his stubble scramming your softer skin.

"I love you," he says, "even if you're seeing other boys."

"Never." You close your eyes and wait for a kiss. Steve's more happy that you expect one than he is to give one, which is saying a lot —he wants to kiss you bad enough to feel the phantom of it before he's closed the gap between you.

He gives you way too many kisses.

You push your head down into the crook of his neck and hold him tight. "Sorry I didn't come back when I said I would. Didn't scare you too much, did I?

He was scared shitless. "No, it's alright. It's okay."

He takes your face into his hands and checks you're all in one piece. Same smile. Same dazzled squint when he kisses you.

You leave his arms too soon for his liking. Robin waits patiently for her own hug, less so when you shed your backpack. She hugs you as it falls to the floor.

"Miss me?" you ask into her hair.

"Thought I'd be stuck with mopey Steve forever." Her insult doesn't land, her voice heavy with relief. "You know coming back in the morning doesn't mean any morning, right? Just checking."

"Sorry, Robin. I missed you."

"Eddie bad company?"

"He's nice, he's just not you guys."

Steve puts a hand on your back, fingers hooked in your belt loop. "Where is he?"

"Playing Peter Pan in the mess tent. I got you guys the best winter jackets ever. Though me and you are sort of matching, Steve." You look at him over your shoulder sheepishly. "Sorry."

"The horror," he murmurs.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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hiraya-rawr · 2 years

Text

everywhere, everything – alhaitham

synopsis !! somehow, you find yourself stuck in a broom closet with your academic rival, alhaitham— and oh? is that a mistletoe?

contains !! 2.4k wc , gn reader, enemies to lovers? fluffy drama! dialogue-centric post, some intimacy (obviously)— lots of fluffy love. flustered things, alhaitham can't hold back okay- FOR SOME REASON IM NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS IDK the outline was way longer than I thought, hence the late Christmas post

note !! i joined my first christmas collab event by @dustofthedailylife ! aaaaah and im also practicing scenario events where the setting is restricted (like a broom closet heheh)

11:46 PM, Christmas Eve

You shouldn't have listened to Kaveh. It's his party, in his (shared) house, yet you nodded along when he told you to grab a broom from the closet. It sounded simple enough—

Walking over to the broom closet at the end of the hall, away from the bustling party in the livingroom. Grabbing the handle, pulling it open, almost shrieking when you spotted the actual homeowner standing with the most irked expression on his face, then—

There are hands on your back, shoving you in as the closet door slams, the bang muffled by loud music. Your breath catches in surprise. Your face plants firmly on the forbidden chest. There are clicking noises outside the door handle.

In front of you, Alhaitham scowls and you can practically feel the anger radiating off of him.

"Did- did Kaveh just—" You stutter, still confused from the whirlwind of events that happened within seconds.

"Yes. He did. That bastard, I swear I'll-"

You drown out the insults and threats spewing from his mouth as you turn to look around. The closet is small, very small, the type that shouldn't have people in it in the first place.

The door is firmly on your back and you can feel that Alhaitham's own back is up against the shelves. Next to you stand a broom and mop, taking up the remaining space in the room. It's dark and you could barely tell what's in front of you (this firm thing. . . it is his chest, right?).

"How long have you been here?" You wonder out loud.

"5 wasted minutes. After he knocked over a bowl of chips and told me to get a broom. Honestly, that imbecile–"

"He told me to get a broom for the chips too! What the heck. This was premeditated!"

"Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out."

Your eyes narrow at his comment, glaring at what you suppose was his face.

"If you're so genius, you could have escaped the second he opened up that door."

"Ha, I could have if it weren't for a certain someone getting shoved into me."

"I'm not a wrecking ball, Scribe Haitham." You scoff, shifting to face him better. Of all the people to get pranked with, it just had to be your academic rival —from the day you received second place in the akademiya entrance exams to the day you both proposed the exact same thesis topic— he was always a step ahead and that infuriated you.

5 years ago, Entrance Exam Results Day

Of course, it wasn’t that he’s a smidge better than you that you hate him; rather, it’s because he acts like he’s so much better than anyone else that you hated him — from staring you down the day you tried to congratulate him on getting first place, to refusing to cooperate together despite having the same thesis topic — you believe your reasons for hating him are quite valid.

“You’re Alhaitham, right? Congratulations on receiving first place on the exams!” You greet cheerfully, a hand extended for him to shake. It was the first day commemorating the start of your academic life and you figured you might as well surround yourself with the right crowd.

Yet, he stays frozen, an odd squint in his eyes and you wonder if you should keep your hand out longer.

“It was to be expected.” He states simply, lightly shrugging, before returning to the book he was reading.

To be expected? First place? In Teyvat’s most prestigious academic institution? The one you toiled day and night in, consuming mountain loads of information, just to deserve your rank? Internally, you decided that you didn’t like him and that he’s an arrogant piece of sh– no, good thoughts (Name), you should befriend your schoolmates.

“Hahaha is that so? I guess you really must be smart,” You force a laugh, retrieving your hand, “If you don’t know yet, I’m–“

“I know you. You’re the one who received second on the exams.”

Okay. It’s official. He’s an arrogant piece of shit.

You grit your teeth, smiling, “. . . It was nice meeting you, Alhaitham. See you when lectures start.”

11:53 PM, Christmas Eve

". . . Stop moving." He tells you.

"What?"

"I said stop moving."

"I'm literally just breathing here, do you want me to stop that too?"

"You're squirming like a worm. Do you want to knock over chemicals off their shelves?”

Oh yeah, this was a broom closet.

"I can't help it when you're taking up all the space!" You huff in his direction, trying to get a clearer view of him with squinted eyes in the dark.

"Unless you want to kiss me, I suggest you stop trying to shove your face into mine as well."

You feel your face heat up, a stutter evident in your voice, "W-what? Why on Teyvat would I ever want that!"

"It's a statement, I never said you wanted it." He scoffs. It was getting warmer in the room, the inescapable warmth of him spreading to you and you wonder if your heartbeat was always this loud. You shuffle uncomfortably, how could he even insinuate that? This arrogant guy!

Maybe it was the small space getting to you, or the tension of being so close to someone you clearly feel contempt for, but you couldn’t stop the next words you say.

“Maybe you’re the one who wants to kiss me! How would I know you didn’t plan this with your roommate?” You jibe back, “Honestly, what kind of homeowner gets trapped in their own broom closet!”

“First of all, we both know -as Kaveh’s mutual friend- that he’s a bastard with his mind in the gutters. This is all his mastermind plan. Secondly, if you want to kiss me that badly, you don't even have to provoke me. by starting a fight.” Before you could even respond to that (or manage to comprehend it), you feel him shuffling back, his muscular torso moving to the whims of his arm as it presses against your own chest.

You unknowingly hold your own breath. Thump, thump, thump– is that his heart or yours?

A sound of a chain, metal clinking, reaches your ears.

“H-hold on, what are you doing?!” You panic, flustered.

“I’m trying to grab the pull-switch for a light, what do you think I’m doing?” He all but hisses back, “Now hold still—”

Light floods the room at the clicking sound, blinding you temporarily.

"—Oh, how convenient, there's a mistletoe above us. Now here's your chance to kiss me." You hear him say and you freeze, quickly glancing up at the bright bulb to see the unmistakable mistletoe hanging next to it. Your jaw drops slightly.

"I— I am not kissing you! I told you that!" You exclaim, hands trying to shove him away for what little space you could muster. Kaveh is dead once you get out of here, you think to yourself.

You hear him scoff, "Again, I was only teasing you-"

"Then I suggest you stop!"

"-but I'd rather not reject tradition."

"W-what?"

5 years ago, Entrance Exam Results Day

Alhaitham believes in love. He understands everything about it– from the chemical compositions to the process. He understands the build up of love.

Naturally, it began when he saw your name only second to his first rank. It wasn't anything particularly special, you were a few points below the prodigy and he found it curious how someone managed to keep up with his wits.

“You’re Alhaitham, right? Congratulations on receiving first place on the exams!”

He's frozen. He knows he's staring. There's a hand outstretched for him yet he hasn't willed his own to take it. It's only for a second but internally, he recognizes the lapse in his act. Say something, Alhaitham, say it now–

“It was to be expected.” He states simply, lightly shrugging, before returning to the book he was reading. It lays flat on his hand and he rereads the same sentence, conscious of your presence next to him. He tries to rationalize– he finds you attractive, you seem to be his type, and it's natural for a man such as himself to eventually feel such things and react this way. Not even he, as logical as he is, could be an independent variable for love.

“Hahaha is that so? I guess you really must be smart,” You laugh and he finds the sound pleasant but forced as you retrieve your hand. “If you don’t know yet, I’m–“

He knows you. He saw your name and looked up the basic credentials already, it's natural as the soon-to-be-top student of your batch.

“I know you. You’re the one who received second on the exams.”

“. . . It was nice meeting you, Alhaitham. See you when lectures start.”

It seems he didn't make a good first impression; but that's fine, logically, he has no plans to act on his feelings anyway. As the elders would say– studies first before lovers.

5 years ago, Thesis Proposal Day

Logic was harder to act on when love was the opponent –as Alhaitham later realized– because, Archons, were you difficult to get rid of.

He notices you– everywhere. This shouldn't be surprising considering your similar academic strands and ranks, but that was exactly the issue! He was hyperaware of everything you did and what you would next do.

Alhaitham believes in love. He knows of all the ridiculous tropes, unable to escape the concept of it as it floats around even in one of the most highly rational spaces in Teyvat. He had no plans of pursuing love, it isn't something he wanted to fit into his intricate schedule,

Yet, he feels pulled by it.

He sees you in class, the seat next to you empty, and he wants to take it but he doesn't.

He bumps into you in the halls, your hands carrying stacks of research materials, but you could handle yourself as he glances the other way.

You ask him, almost hesitantly, shyly, if he would like to pair up for one of the most important thesis projects in your lives and– he flat out refuses, because -archons forbid- the remnants of his discipline and self-control be lost over sleepless nights with you next to him, working on something you both proposed.

No, he would not have that. It's not a part of his life plan (you aren't part of his life plan).

Yet, as he passes out papers in class, people's hands brushing against his, he can't help but compare yours– your hand, your fingers brushing on his, skin on skin, he feels it in his nerve receptors, electric despite not electrifying– yours is felt so much more than how he felt the others and he can't describe how.

12:00 AM, Christmas Day

And he feels it again now. The hyperawareness of you on him, like the day your fingers brushed– this illogical, subtle, uncontrollable feeling.

It must be love, he tells himself. He understands love and everything about it and it infuriates him.

But the closet is too small, you're much too close, he wants to do something. Then– he remembers. A mistletoe. Kaveh hung a mistletoe in the broom closet. Mentally, he knew this all along, but now it was becoming increasingly obvious that a mistletoe existed above him (Above you. Above you and him).

Thump, thump, thump– it's his heart beating. He shuffles to reach a chain, he needs to see it to believe it (that a mistletoe is there) but what good would that do? Is it to simply show you? To see how you'd react? A chance for him to act on these frantic feelings?

Love is illogical, it's breaking the bottle he so carefully closed.

“H-hold on, what are you doing?!” You panic, flustered.

“I’m trying to grab the pull-switch for a light, what do you think I’m doing?” He replies and he hopes he doesn't sound too rushed, “Now hold still—”

Light floods the room at the clicking sound, and it blinds him temporarily, but he feels everything– you being there, your clothes brushing against his and your skin on his, everything and everything–

–and the mistletoe, there.

"Oh, how convenient, there's a mistletoe above us. Now here's your chance to kiss me." He says and time unmistakably slows for him. His heart is steady, as if acting on his feelings were the only way to calm his fight with himself.

You look up at him frantically, "I— I am not kissing you! I told you that!" You exclaim, hands trying to shove him away for what little space you could muster.

He scoffs, "Again, I was only teasing you-"

"Then I suggest you stop!"

"-but I'd rather not reject tradition."

"W-what?"

You freeze as he tests the waters. He understands love, he understands all the tropes, the build-up, the chemicals, but -holy dendro archon- is he taking risks.

"I'm asking if I could kiss you."

"Wha-what!"

"You're repeating your words now. Would you like me to ask again or should I give you time to clear your ears?"

Under the warm light, he sees you visibly gulp. He can't help the way he leans in closer, an arm resting on the door beside your head.

"I don't need to clear my ears! I just- I thought you, well, hated me," You hurriedly reply, looking away from his own gaze. The floor is way more interesting, it seems.

"Hated you? Whoever said that?"

"W-well, you acted as though you did. Always avoiding me, always pulling away–"

"I'm not pulling away now, am I?" As if to prove his point, he leans closer, slipping his fingers under your chin to face him directly, "But it seems like you're the one shying away."

You're sure you stopped breathing at some point.

"To be fair, I was trying to avoid you back then. But not in the way that you think." His thumb brushes over your lower lip, "It was never because I hated you. In fact, it's quite the opposite."

Silence lingers in the air at his subtle confession. At the lack of a reply, Alhaitham sighs, "If I'm making you uncomfortable, we can break this door down and yo-"

"I'm not uncomfortable!" You blurt out, "I- I just didn't think you- you felt this way."

"Then may I?"

"May you?" You repeat questioningly.

"Mistletoe." He states and stiffly, he feels the slightest nod of your head on his fingers and–

The door swings open.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS, LOVEBIRDS! How are we doing? Is my dear housemate finally getting some action in his bleak life?"

"KAVEH!!!"

prompt !! "oh, how convenient, there's a mistletoe above us."

ko-fi !! commissions !! best m.list

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @stygianoir14 @shizunxie @bluriie @aestellia @abyislan08 @scooterscoob @lordbugs

#dust winter wonderland #yaepublishinghouse #al haitam x reader #al haitham #genshin al haitham #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin fic #kaveh #genshin kaveh #genshin impact imagines

2K notes · View notes

dollveis · 1 year

Text

⠀ ⠀ MOTH TO A FLAME !

ELLIE WILLIAMS ⠀⸝⸝ but does he know the reasons that you cry? or tell me does he know where your heart lies? where it truly lies. ⸝⸝

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ warnings. +18 content, best friend!ellie x fem!reader, mention of sex with a man, reader is dating a man for the first few paragraphs but they break up soon in the fic, kind of emotional cheating tho, dealer!ellie + mention of usage of weed, reader checking out ellie all the time, it's hinted ellie masturbated thinking about reader and reader did too, ellie's actually kind of a loser lesbian but with a tough facade, idk if there's something more. 4.5k WORDS.

˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ vi's sticky note. so... i was watching tiktok and this appeared, some tiktok fake scenarios also helped me. this took me forever and i pretty much hate how rushed is.

⠀⠀⠀

IT DIDN'T FELT RIGHT, it didn't felt right how his hands roamed through the valley of your hips or how his lips sucked the skin in your neck, leaving soft reddish marks. It didn't felt right how his knee started to make space between your bare legs. It didn't felt right because he wasn't her and just that thought made your heart soak in guilt because he was actually everything you wished once.

Andrew was the type of guy Disney movies showed, with pearly white teeth hiding behind a cute smile, eyes that looked at you with burning adoration and desire, gentle with you and your wishes, the type of guy you would want to bring to your parents house and your friends adore but he was not the type of guy you wanted anymore. Because you didn't want Disney's pretty prince, maybe you wanted your hot lesbian best friend.

Fuck.

"Andrew... can we stop?" your voice coming out almost silent, "i'm not feeling well today," your lips forming a twisted smile as you pushed his shoulders and weight away from your body slightly.

"Oh, sorry, baby," his eyes opening in surprise as he got away, sitting next to your body only covered by your underwear, "i was doing something you didn't like?"

"Oh, no," liar, "it's not that," you were being such a liar. I mean, he was not that horrible at sex and the first times you didn't mind it until Ellie got a stupid girlfriend and your mind kept thinking about how she fucked her when your boyfriend was on top of you, trying to find his way to your inside. Your mind kept thinking about how well she could fuck you with a fake dick, probably better than your own boyfriend.

And you were tired of your own mind because well, you just knew Ellie saw you as her best friend and you should do the same, you had a boyfriend, why your heart wanted to run next to the freckled girl? why deep in your mind you felt you only started date Andrew as an attempt to stop looking at Ellie's lips when she spoke, to stop staring at her freckles longer than a normal friend would do. To stop your heart from racing as fast as a bird's one when she sang love songs looking directly at your eyes, feeling hers drowning in your soul and her essence crawling into your heart, invading it like a plague.

Your boyfriend hummed, stare lost at the back of the room, "it's just that... i feel something's wrong," he turned his head to look directly at you, "like you're not feeling us anymore," his words echoed in your brain, taking you by surprise, you knew Andrew avoided serious themes just like a kid. He had the bad habit of acting deaf towards problems, hiding them under the bed hoping they're gonna resolve by themselves.

You're not feeling us anymore, did you felt you both at some point? or were you just lying to yourself from the start?

"I've been tryin' to ignore it but i can't keep playing dumb," his voice started to escalate, sounding more desperate with every word he was saying, "where your heart truly lies? is it with me?"

"Andrew," you sighed, "what are you trying to-"

"Or with her?" his words kicked directly to your heart, your voice suddenly stuck at your throat, completely tangled around it making you unable to answer and incapable of lying to him and to you once again.

If like your lack of words and silence gave him the answer he nodded, getting up and sighing. Fixed his hair with his right hand as he roamed through his room, first looking for his clothes and dressing up with some basketball shorts and a white tee. For you, you just were frozen there, sitting with your legs crossed at the end of the king sized bed, your mind running as your prefrontal cortex screamed to you for unconsciously follow the insular and your feelings, telling you how dumb you are but... you couldn't help it.

"I like you but i'm not keep acting like i'm blind," he stood up in front of you, towering you, "i think is for the best to take a break until you find out how you really feel," he handed you your clothes and your hand grabbed them as you finally had the courage to face him, "i'm gonna let you change," he avoided your stare, walking towards the door and leaving you alone with yourself and your guilt.

You wish you felt bad, you wanted to feel something at least something minimum. Whatever it was, whether it was rage, sadness, loneliness, something, but you didn't, absolutely nothing. Well, there was something: relief, and that feeling just incremented the guilt in your heart, your almost perfect boyfriend basically broke up with you?

The boyfriend everyone adored but you.

You reached for your jeans, pulling out your phone from one of the back pockets, unlocking it, 1:00 𝐀𝐌. Not late enough yet.

⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀els 💌

can u pick me up?

please ellie, hurry up

⠀⠀⠀

???

thought u were spending the night w ur lil bf

⠀⠀⠀

just come pls

⠀⠀⠀

is everything okay? im at a party at jesses place so gimme 15 mins

⠀⠀⠀

You chuckled at how ironic it was that the first person you talked to after Andrew's words was the apple of discord between you two, but you didn't do it with intention, she was your best friend, the closest friend you had. Your safe place.

Without wasting time you dressed up and made sure you had everything in your bag, wanting to avoid having to go back to his place at least for tonight.

The buzz in the back of your black jeans making you instinctively pulling it out, hoping it was the auburn haired girl who texted you, when you turned on your phone the first notification that popped out was a 'im at the corner' from Ellie, as an answer you just left her in read, hurrying up to grab your bag and throwing it at your back, heading towards the door of the room. Your body stopped for a second at the frame of the wooden door, analyzing what you would say once you step out of your now ex boyfriend's room.

Just say goodbye and go you breathed, collecting yourself before opening the door, encountering the small living room and kitchen and Andrew sitting at the end of the white sofa, his eyes directly facing you once he realizes your presence.

"I'm leaving," your voice obviously awkward just like your words and your thumb pointing the front door at your left.

"Oh, someone's picking you?" you just nodded, preferring avoid more confrontation by bringing up Ellie was the one waiting for you outside his block.

And after some more awkward exchange of words and stares you left his apartment finally, making you sigh, liberating the air you were containing in your lungs.

'take ur time, dw, i almost got stopped by the police bc i thought something serious happened🙄 just that' Ellie texted again, chuckling at her message you opened the glass door of the pretty expensive block of apartments, looking for your best friend's black car. Her distinctive shitty -which she always denied- car finally entering on your sight.

You make your way to it, opening first the door of the backseat to throw your bag and at the end entering the passenger seat, being welcomed and hugged by the soft smell of weed mixed with Ellie's cologne, a familiar smell that made you feel blanketed and safe.

"Hi," you softly mumbled, kinda escaping her obvious stare.

"Hi?" Ellie repeated you, feeling in her voice how one of her eyebrow was lifted "just hi?"

"What you mean?" as you rested your head in the window of the car you could felt Ellie's body leaning closer to yours, driving your heart to the palm of your hand.

"You tell me," her minty breath skimming your ear and cheek, " since 'm not the one who called at fucking 1 am," her hand reaching your chin, fingertips caressing the edges of your jaw. Abruptly her fingers clenched around it, shivers traveling through your whole spine as your heart started to pound loudly. So loud you were scared Ellie could hear it and if she did, she didn't give a shit about it. The delicious strength she had on your jaw incremented, not to the point it hurted but to force you to look back at her, herr emerald gaze contemplating your face, scrutinizing your features just like she was searching a hint of what happened.

Ellie's scent was making hard to keep your mind focused on her eyes and not in the strands of hair lost in the front of her face or how her mouth was softly opened, the oxygen entering to her body through it instead of her nose. And, oh God, her nose, sparkled with some freckles that travelled from her right cheek to the left one, making it seems like a small constellation was drawn all over her face, one that expanded softly to her shoulders and chest covered with a white wife beater and a sage green flannel with the sleeves rolled up, her sleeve tattoo in sight to curious eyes like yours.

"You really drive me crazy," Ellie purred with a smirk on her lips, her warm breath hitting your face. Actions like that, like whispering next to your lips or examining your face and figure with a grin, made your stomach tangle in knots and your head dizzy, "you always expect me to run under your skirt when you call my name," her voice getting lower as her grip on your chin started to soft.

Fingers leaving it to roam to your neck, stopping their way in a reddish mark Andrew left there, Ellie's eyebrows furrowing slightly at the thought of his mouth touching you, "and i always do, so you have a point," her body getting away from yours and leaving you almost cold by the absent of her touch, she readjusted herself in the pilot sit and she just lied there, resting her head in her palm, looking at you with her corners of her mouth upturned like she was waiting for you to say something back, like she didn't leave you breathless and intoxicated in her.

"So..." you turned to the front, evading her stare again.

"So are you goin' to tell me what happened or what, because i know you didn't call me because little mister perfect was being the best boyfriend," she chuckled a bit, glancing at her phone screen, "not like he was either way tho."

You tilted your head, curious at what she could meant with that sentence, Ellie brushed it off shrugging her shoulders and whispering a whatever you barely heard. Her hands reaching the car's key, the motor of it making a loud sound.

"Andrew broke up with me," you spoke fastly, almost without spaces between words. Ellie froze, the grip in the wheel softening as her eyes looked at you with open eyes in surprise.

"Andrew?" incredulously repeated, "Andrew Andrew? Like... the tall guy who's basically a himbo? Your boyfriend?"

"Oh my god, yes, Ellie, Andrew, my now ex-boyfriend... and he's not a himbo," eyebrows quirked as you spoke, your arm playfully hitting her shoulder making her chuckle and lick her bottom lip.

"Can't blame me, i wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't know where the clit is... actually, does he?" a big smirk on her mouth and eyes now centered to get out of the place she was parked to drive you home, or honestly drive you wherever you want. Ellie would deny it every time, but you had her how you wanted, you asked and she delivered. That made her feel like a loser lesbian but maybe she was for you.

You couldn't say something back because you weren't sure if he knew, he should know, he's all grown up and fucked more girls than you can count with your hands' fingers. But you weren't sure because Andrew never gave you head -because he said he didn't like it- or even fingered you, he was just into fucking you with his dick.

Ellie's smirk transformed into a sweet smile when she glanced at you for a moment when you kept your mouth shut, one of her hands leaving the wheel to rest it on your thigh, her thumb rubbing it with endearment as the rest of her hand got lost in the inner of your thigh, your mind starting to get dizzy once again.

"I'm just fuckin' with ya, want to talk about what happened, babe?" Ellie had the bad habit of using pet names when she was trying to be sweet and understanding, completely clueless at how 'pretty', 'babe', 'angel' coming from her mouth made your heart -and core- feel.

"It's just... i don't know," you scratched your head, Ellie's gaze on you again.

"What about you start telling me what happened because sorry, but mister perfect was really down bad for you," her eyes rolled at her final words. Ellie never said she hated Andrew, she didn't love him either and she made it obvious with her sarcastic jokes and faked gags whenever he was around you with his arms around your waist or hips but you never thought she hated him, just more that she found him annoying just like she found almost every guy except Jesse and Joel.

"He said i wasn't sure of my feelings for him," your eyes trailing to the front, trying to ignore her hand caressing your clothed thigh or how she examined you with her eyes every now and then, trying to disguise the fact she was the whole reason why you weren't sure of your feelings from your ex boyfriend.

"And you are?"

"I think i've never been sure of my feelings for him," your hands starting to get sweaty from your fear of talking to much and say things you shouldn't.

Ellie hummed, "and why you dated him? He was handsome and shit but dude didn't have much else-"

"Because i liked someone else... and she would never give a shit about me in that way so i guess i thought dating a popular pretty guy would change my feelings, i guess it didn't" your voice interrupted Ellie's, you weren't sure of what you wanted to reach driving the conversation to this topic, maybe just free your chest from this heavy feeling you had been hiding for almost the start of your friendship with Ellie.

No, you couldn't make yourself speak more, you couldn't drop a 'i liked you and i still like you, Ellie' from your mouth.

"You never know, maybe you should try to make a move," Ellie tried to sound lighthearted but she could swore her heart skipped a few beats at your words. Her mind starting roam through her thoughts: what if it's me. There's no fucking way it's me. She just sees you as a friend, Ellie. Don't be delusional, it's probably another girl.

"Maybe," a giggle escaped your lips, just if she knew you were talking about her, "let's not talk about my ex boyfriend more, distract my mind, miss Ellie Williams," your voice sounding playful and your brows wiggling. Ellie was a tease but you could be more and drove Ellie crazy, most of the times making her hard to play it cool.

"Sorry, i don't fuck with girls who just got out of relationships," her green orbs looking directly at you, taking advantage of the stop, "and i don't fuck them either," eyes again locked at the road, the car accelerating at green and your heart about to combust at her words, you hated how easily she would drop shit like that, like it was nothing.

"Whatever, your loss," you rolled your eyes as Ellie's brows quirked at your phrase without looking at your direction, an entertained smile drew all over her lips, "where are we goin'?"

"You choose, Miss Daisy, i can drive you home or we can get something to eat and chit chat in a empty parking lot until the sun rises. Personally 'm starving."

"Something's even open?" your choice already settled without the need of more words.

Ellie's proposal wasn't something you were a stranger of, actually, you couldn't count how many times you both ended up in deserted parking lots with junk food and just the company of each other, specially if one of you was down or just after some party. Feeling like a whole eternity since the last time happened and not because of Ellie's fault but yours, you never distanced from your best friend, you just marked some... distance to try to get your mind off of her but there you were once again, your heart in the palm of your hand and your eyes trailing back and forth from her slim figure.

"There has to be."

A shared precooked meal and joint with Ellie felt like it was what you needed so everything felt right again. Your mind hazy, more than you expected to be when the auburn haired girl offered it to you, probably because you were the one who smoked the most, Ellie almost rejecting every time you handed her the burned paper, maybe she wasn't the most responsible but she was conscious she had to drive you and herself back home.

"I'm gonna have to pay for it?" your chin pointed to the cigarette butt resting in the small, handmade ashtray she had in the car.

Ellie side eyed, first looking at you and later where your chin was pointing. A cheeky grin portrayed on her face, "do you? maybe i would consider a pretty girl discount," her voice cocky, she was playing with you like she always did, "of course you don't have to pay, i offered it to you."

"You're such a loser for the pretty girl discount anyway," your shoulders shrugged, your friend's eyebrows knitted making an expression of the fuck you mean with that which you ignored, "kinda offensive you just hinted you wouldn't do a pretty girl discount for me."

It was kinda funny for her you said she was a loser for the pretty girl discount because until not long ago she kinda was, not like she invited every girl she dealed to but her pretty girl discounts were more of a you're really pretty to pay for my weed instead of a i would fuck you so you don't need to pay, so she stopped when she realized some girls misinterpreted her actions and also because even though you were really pretty to pay for her weed she would also fuck you. Of course she wouldn't say that out loud.

"You're so dramatic, god," her words making you lift one of the corners of your mouth but you didn't answer, enjoying the few cars passing by and the soft night light of the city that was mixed with the yellowish streetlights and the cold light of the moon and stars, her raspy voice breaking the silence, "i guess we're both single again.... aaaand we're arriving too."

You hummed to her last words, your mind more centered about the 'we're both single' part. You totally forgot for a moment Ellie and Cat broke up not long ago as well, you didn't know the exact reasons since when you asked she just said it wasn't really working, that Cat was nice and shit but she wasn't really what Ellie wanted and her words really caught you by surprise. As her best friend you knew Ellie was more of a quality time and gifts type of girl, but when you hangout with them and some more friends a few times them both didn't know how to keep their hands to themselves. Fingers locked, sweet cheek kisses, whispers at each other's ear with giggles Intercalated and fast lovely stares from Ellie's side that sometimes traveled to you but she quickly looked away when your eyes interlocked with jewel like eyes, so of course it caught you by surprise when she told Cat wasn't what she wanted.

"I guess so," you spoke with your eyes glued go the streets outside the car's window, the small block of apartments you lived in entering in your sight and almost every parking space occupied, which made Ellie pant, there was nothing she hated most than searching for a place to park. In the middle of the night. At fucking 3 am, "looks like your ex moved on pretty quick tho."

It was true, even though you were never close to Cat you both had a gentle relationship of acquaintances so it was no weird you followed each other on Instagram, making it impossible to not see the story she posted last night. Cat's waist wrapped by some cute masc's arm, the face of the unknown girl rested in her shoulder as the asian showed to the camera some shot she was taking at a party with blinking neon lights that could make you go blind and some cute love song usually related to the wlw community, the story basically screaming there was something going on between Cat and that other girl.

The freckled girl next to you couldn't help but chuckle at your words, your commentary catching her by surprise as she devised a free spot where she could park.

"Yeah... it's whatever, so have i," she brushed it off, more concentrated on parking -since she was a really careful driver- than how your eyes were blazing at the sight of her.

Of how her hands had a tight grip of the wheel, or how she bites her bottom lip in frustration when she was trying to get the car in the right angle. Your pupils started to roam to sinful places, or at least places you shouldn't be looking like her thighs hugged by her skinny jeans or wondering what she could hide being her pants and her top, even asking yourself if she ever wore a strap outside of the room, completely ecstatic at the thought of her hiding a plastic cock behind those really tight jeans. Your were knees getting weak and your fists clenching as an attempt to calm whatever Ellie was waking up by just... existing?

And of course you couldn't keep your mouth shut, you didn't know how to, more when you were high.

"Proof?" the words slipping your lips faster than your brain had the time to analyze them, the reflex of slapping your hand to your mouth almost automatic but it was too late, Ellie already heard you and if only you could hear her heart beating fast and her mind in panic all the fear that soaked your body would disappear in an instant. Ellie's eyes widened, her chill and playful facade falling apart for a few seconds which she quickly recovered hoping you didn't realize her moment of weakness.

With a dangerous smirk Ellie turned to look at you, her slightly dilated pupils looking up and down at you, "proof?" her voice cooed, her body inclinated to your direction, you gave her an opportunity and she was gonna take it without doubt, "proof would ruin our friendship," her face close to your own more than ever, her right hand leaving the wheel to touch your chin just like she did hours before but this time it was different. Her touch was edging sinful, intoxicating, the growing tension making you swallow with difficult as your thighs pressed together, and she noticed it, she finally catch up the effect she had on you and your body; she always knew she did something to you but never really stopped to think about it until that moment.

Her mind running through all the possibilities able to happen, how your body gave her the hint she could take you to the backseat and eat your heated cunt in that moment, just the thought making her own pussy wet and needy, almost impossible for her to contain the action of cup it over her jeans.

"And we don't want our friendship ruined, right, pretty?" her voice so sweet, so sugar coated, the pads of her fingers leaving your chin once again, just like before. It's not what she wanted, she wanted to eat you in every way possible, thinking about how good her lips would feel against your glossy ones, she was craving for you like you were but she didn't want it to happen that way.

She was scared. She didn't know if you could regret once the heated was gone, if you maybe just wanted Andrew out of your head, she didn't want her heart broke and she wanted you completely conscious and right on your mind. Fuck, behind her cocky smile and confident eyes she was shitting her pants.

But you wouldn't let it go like that.

"Wait!" your hand reaching and grabbing her wrist, "what do you mean?" a flirtatious smile on your lips without you realizing.

You were really making the game difficult to Ellie, if you continued acting like that she was gonna throw everything away and just do it, just surrender to her lustful feelings. And she was about to do it.

"Are you playing dumb or do you want me to be straight forward?" she said in an undertone.

"I want you... to show it if you wanna make this a lil' more interesting," your head tilting slightly with a flirty manner. You made your mind, you won't retreat this time, you didn't know if it was your own confidence or the weed you consumed that gave you the strength to not be scared, or at least not terrified.

Despite the fact Ellie's heart was about to jump out of her chest she did a really good job hiding it with her slick grin growing bigger, sated at your curiosity, at your need and he was gonna reward it... kinda.

You saw her face suddenly getting closer to yours, one of her hands placing now in the side of your thigh almost on your hip, squeezing it, and the other resting in back of your seat, helping her to maintain balance. Her lips ghosting over your own, making you unconsciously close your eyes, awaiting for her chapped warm lips finally pressed against you.

The sight of you with eyes closed, looking almost like an angel, and your lips parted made Ellie even more aroused, you looked so pretty like that and it was something only her could see in that moment, only for her.

To your surprise your glossy lips never met the warm of Ellie's but your ear did, a low chuckle before she spoke slowly and patiently, with such a provocative tone, "if you're that desperate for proof i can show you tomorrow, sweet girl," her lips skimming your earlobe so close to kissing it, your only response was almost a whimper, you couldn't wait.

"But-"

"Tomorrow," her tone demanding this time, "now go, it's really late."

It was late and Ellie's cunt was so heated, her boxers a mess, that she needed you out of her car so she could take care of it just like you needed too.

⠀⠀⠀

Each other's fingers meeting your respective soaked cores, you thinking how full could Ellie make you feel and Ellie thinking how much she wanted to make you a mess of moans and whimper for her and her fingers, just the moon knowing your sinful actions.

#𔓘 vi's works. ꒱#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #the last of us part 2

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mailjeevasfan · 1 year

Note

can i request headcanons of the death note boys proposing to their gn!s/o?

ty for req this is adorable

-light, l lawliet, matt, mello, near, matsuda

-death note x gn!reader

༺♡༻

dn boys proposing to s/o ❦

light

he’d either do something really big and romantic or something rly small no in between

ok but seriously if he did something big, it’d be really elaborate and carefully planned. idk maybe you guys went on a vacation and he does a traditional on one knee proposal on a beach or something. very pretty and expensive ring

either that or just kind of a ‘we just should get married.’ but i mean i definitely prefer to imagine the first one

༺♡༻

l lawliet

probably doesn’t know what he’s doing at all let’s be real

i can imagine him carrying out some kind of elaborate plan to send u on a crazy mindfuck adventure to eventually reveal the proposal LMAO i hope that made sense

like a scavenger hunt or some shit

(my main point is that his proposal would probably be very unconventional)

again, it’d probably be either that or just a ‘let’s get married.’ but in his case i think it would be more heartfelt

༺♡༻

matt

can u imagine him making a game with a proposal encoded in the end… is that really dumb… cmon that would be adorable

matt probably has the ability to create his own game with his knowledge in technology and his general fixation on video games so i can totally see him doing something like this. especially if you guys play games together a lot. even if u don’t tbh

but even if it’s not that, i feel like matt would do a very casual proposal. don’t get me wrong he’d definitely put thought into it and would be so so adorably nervous but i don’t think he’d make it a big deal at all.

but like i say he is very very nervous and absolutely overjoyed when you say yes

༺♡༻

mello

he’s definitely a confident guy, especially in this context. he wouldn’t be afraid to do it in a very bold way, like in a public space. he isn’t afraid in the slightest to show his love for you at this point, even if it hasn’t always been that way. although if he knew that you wouldn’t want that then i don’t think he’d do it

in short he’s gonna come right out with it lol. he’s gonna be bold. when you said yes he was super happy but also probably not surprised cuz he’s a cocky fucker (he has every reason to be tho 😁)

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near

a very unemotional person but honestly?? i think he’d be scared as SHIT

this is one of the only times you’ve seen him so nervous, and you probably shit urself too. i mean cmon when does near act like this? you thought something bad was gonna go down

he would probably just present the ring and awkwardly look at the ground whilst asking you to marry him. he only looked at you once you said yes, and his smile was the most genuine you’d ever seen

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matsuda

he is a very romantic guy to me and he is going to carry out the most thoughtful proposal ever.

he’d probably be like ‘surprise!!! dinner at fancy restaurant!!’ or something similar to that, like a trip or something

i can also imagine you catching on so quickly. he tries his hardest to hide what he’s planning but you realise what’s going on. bless his heart. luckily, you’re going to say yes. and he probably cries and spins you around in his arms when u do icl

༺♡༻

#death note #mail jeevas #mello #mihael keehl #l lawliet #matt #death note x reader #light yagami #near #near x reader #mail jeevas x reader #mello x reader #light x reader #l lawliet x reader #matsuda #matsuda x reader

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shmaptainwrites · 2 months

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𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐈 [𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!seamstress!Reader

SUMMARY — Madame Delacroix expands her business with a French seamstress and Violet is the first customer.

WORD COUNT — 6.2K

WARNINGS — 18+ NSFW MDNI, it’s just gay sex guys idk what to tell you, French dialogue used throughout (minimally but context helps explain)

NOTE — I feel obligated to tell you that this fic is in part inspired by a song I listen to on repeat, although I don’t think the French guys that wrote it realized it would be the catalyst for a sapphic fanfic

Lady Violet Bridgerton was never one for last minute endeavours. That wasn’t to say she didn’t appreciate a little spontaneity every now and again, but surely she preferred when things were planned and she was prepared.

So it shocked her, of all things, that she could be the reason for her own unpreparedness. In reality, her family’s circumstances — with Francesca’s departure to Scotland, Anthony and Kate’s travels to India, and Colin and Penelope’s honeymoon — were the real cause of her scattered brain, but she still blamed herself of course.

It was with a very apologetic look that she entered the modiste, hopeful that Madame Delacroix might be able to fit her in for a last minute appointment so that she could have a dress made for an upcoming ball.

“Unfortunately, I will not be able to help you, Lady Bridgerton,” the seamstress said and Violet cursed internally, “but I have a colleague who has just arrived from France to help me since business has been so-err plentiful.”

“Oh!” Violet was pleasantly surprised, blinking her eyes a few times, thinking something was better than nothing at this point. “Would she be able to see me?”

“She is just getting settled, but I am sure she can make some time for a very loyal customer who I am sure has been just as busy as me recently,” Madame Delacroix gave Violet a friendly smile which was bashfully returned.

She asked Violet to wait for a moment, going to the back where Violet could hear some quiet chatter before Madame Delacroix returned with you by her side.

“Lady Bridgerton, this is Madame Bisset.”

Violet had to remind herself to move her head up and down in a polite nod, her eyes glued so intensely to yours. She wouldn’t be surprised if her mouth was slightly agape like that of a fish, but she could have sworn she’d never seen anything as beautiful in her entire life.

“I have a space upstairs,” you explained. “It is still a little messy. I hope you do not mind.”

“I-” Violet’s voice came out strained and she coughed and cleared her throat. “No, that will not be a problem.”

“Perfect, right this way, Madame,” you motioned for her to follow you, going into the back of the shop, climbing up a set of narrow stairs until you reached the top, revealing to Violet another workspace she hadn’t seen before.

Like you had already mentioned, it was a little rough around the edges, fabric was still pouring out of boxes, a few mannequins were tucked away in the corner, but there was a nice carpeted area in the middle of the room with a raised platform and a large mirror.

“Um, Madame Delacroix said you came from France recently,” Violet found herself beginning to talk.

“Yes, I arrived just one week ago,” you explained. “I heard there is quite the market for dress making in London and I was looking for a bit of a change.”

“I hope you enjoy it here,” Violet smiled. “Lord knows the ton cannot get enough of a good modiste.”

“That is what I am relying on.” you chuckled, and motioned for her to step up on the platform. “Now, what is it you are looking for, Lady Bridgerton?”

“Just an evening gown, for an upcoming ball,” she said, finding herself unable to break her gaze from you, watching as you brought out a measuring tape and looked through some boxes of fabric.

“Any preferences?” you asked. “We just had this lovely fabric come in, I think it would look quite stunning on you.”

Once you had found it, you pulled it out of the box with a smile and came to drape it over Violet’s shoulder so she could see it on herself. You smoothed out the fabric along her front and she almost felt herself stagger back at the gentle and light pressure over her chest and midsection.

“What do you think?”

She blinked a few times, like she was trying to get her eyes to work again, taking in the blushy pink fabric with darker pink paisley embroidery.

“Yes, it’s quite nice,” her voice came out a whisper.

“Perfect,” you smiled. “Then I will take your measurements and you can be on your way.”

Measurements. Violet wasn’t sure if she’d be able to make it through that.

There was something electric about your touch, even when your fingers were simply hovering over her, she could feel sparks sending signals to her heart, beating faster until she could hear it pounding in her ears.

Violet had always known attraction to be strong and forceful, but this was bordering on violent.

She watched as you adjusted the measuring tape in your hands, first starting with the length from her shoulder to her ankle. You worked with much concentration and diligence, and for that Violet was grateful, because it meant that maybe you wouldn’t notice how each time she felt your hands against her she would have to centre herself and remind herself how to breathe, repeating the words in and out over and over again in her head.

Eventually, you needed to take the measurements for her hips and bust and Violet knew if she didn’t distract herself somehow she might faint.

“Um when will I-uh need to come in for adjustments?” she asked, just as your hands wrapped the tape from around her back to the front of her chest.

“Currently you are my only customer,” you said. “I believe two days will be more than enough time for me to finish. After the adjustments are done I can have the dress sent to Bridgerton house if that is agreeable.”

“Oh, um, no there is no need for that,” she shook her head. “I can pick it up. The home is quiet nowadays with most of my children off in every corner of Lord knows where,” she chuckled nervously. “It’s nice to get out of the house and get some fresh air, perhaps get some tea, go for a stroll.”

“Yes of course, whatever suits you, Madame,” you nodded your head. “And I believe we are finished for today.”

Violet gave you a sheepish smile and stepped down from the platform.

“Thank you, Madame Bisset. I am not normally this-uh disorganized,” she explained. “I promise next time I will plan things much better.”

“Lady Bridgerton, I love what I do, really it is no trouble. Come any time to see me.”

Violet lightly chewed on the side of her bottom lip, looking down at her feet, her hands moving to her stomach, perhaps to remind herself that she was standing.

“I will keep that in mind,” she nodded and wished you a final goodbye before walking down the stairs and exiting the modiste, grateful now for the air outside more than she thought she had ever been in her life.

—

Two days later, Violet returned anxiously for her alterations. When she entered the modiste she was surprised to see you already downstairs, looking through some drawers for something.

You heard the ring of the shop bell and looked up from where you were hunched over, a welcoming smile gracing your face.

“Lady Bridgerton,” you greeted.

“Madame Bisset, it is good to see you.”

Her mind drifted back to the image of you moments ago, bent over an open drawer. It certainly was good to see you.

“Did I drop in at a bad time?” she asked.

“Not at all, I was just getting some lace for the hem of the dress and around the sleeves and neckline. I thought it might be nice to try, no?”

Violet nodded, she would simply say yes to anything that either gave her an excuse to be with you longer or to come back more often.

You led her upstairs to your workspace again, and this time when she entered she realized it was noticeably cleaner and more organized than last time.

Boxes were replaced by racks of fabrics and shelves had been uncovered to host a myriad of little things, all of which she was sure you’d find use for in due time.

“Should I help with the dress, Madame?” you motioned to her outfit and Violet gulped.

“Y-yes, I suppose that would be…necessary,” she nodded her head and you moved to close the door for the workspace and lock it to ensure privacy while Violet stood up on the slightly raised platform in front of the mirror.

You had come to stand behind her, your fingers carefully fitting themselves between her sleeve and shoulder, helping her slip one arm out at a time before pulling it down slightly over her chest and guiding the fabric to the ground so she could step out of it.

It was something she’d done in front of other women countless times, but never had she felt this vulnerable and exposed. She looked down and saw the hairs on her arm stand on end, only to be followed by a slight jolt when she felt your hand against her corseted waist.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized with a chuckle. “I just need…” your voice trailed off as you looked down at her feet and she realized she needed to step out of her dress.

A rosy colour quickly made its way onto her cheeks as she stepped out of her dress so you could hang it up for her and bring the new dress for her to try on.

She stepped into the pink fabric and tried to make sure her body made no involuntary movements as she felt your hands graze along her sides, helping each bare arm slip into a sleeve, now finally covered again.

“Hmm,” you stood in front of her and analyzed the way the fabric fit. “It is a little loose here, no?” you asked, tightening the fabric around her chest slightly so that it was more in line with the shape of her corset.

“I suppose, maybe, yes,” she nodded, “I-I’m sorry, but do you have any water?” Violet asked.”I-I’m feeling a little parched.”

“Oh of course,” you nodded, letting go of her dress and walking to a pitcher and some glasses you had set to the side, filling one up for her before bringing it back.

She tried her best to drink it graciously, but there was nothing more she wanted to do than down the whole glass in one shot. Once she was finished, you took the glass from her and set it aside, picking up the lace you had brought up with you, to present your suggestion.

“I was thinking maybe we can put it around the hem of the dress, like this,” you showed her, bending down and lifting the skirt just slightly to tuck some of the lace under it so it was peeking throughout the bottom.

“Oh,” Violet raised her brows as she looked in the mirror. “I actually quite like that.”

“So do I,” you nodded, standing back up, “And I thought maybe the arms…”

You tried the same thing with the sleeves and, again, it suited the look of the dress. Lastly, you placed it around the neckline, moving to hold it up from behind her so she could see.

Violet thought at that moment it was probably better not to breathe at all considering if she did, with the restriction of her corset her heaving chest would be quite obvious.

“Mmm, je n’aime pas ça,” you shook your head, your voice soft and close to her ear.

“I-I’m sorry?”

Violet had spent most of her younger years learning French, but for some reason, the entirety of the language had escaped her.

“I do not like the lace here,” you switched back to English, removing the lace and pulling the fabric a little tighter around her bust, pinning it in place with the pins from your pin cushion. “It is better like this.”

“You think so?” she asked quietly, feeling herself swallow harshly after she finished speaking.

“I know so, Madame,” you nodded. “Why would one hide such perfect skin?”

Violet looked in the mirror at what you were referring to, her chest littered with freckles and spots.

“I hardly think it is perfect,” she shook her head.

“It would be like covering a starry sky with clouds,” you offered. “One cannot gaze at the stars and wonder about the universe on a cloudy night.”

Violet chuckled nervously and looked down at the floor for a moment.

“Madame Bisset, I think you mistake how many people are gazing.”

“You would be surprised,” you gently placed your hand on her arm, rubbing up and down in a reassuring motion.

She could feel the fabric of the sleeves move against her arm in response to your touch and it caused a warmth to spread in the pit of her stomach.

You moved to grab a container with a few more pins and began seeing where adjustments needed to be made and dealt with the fabric accordingly. Violet felt herself easily growing restless, her fingers fiddling around with the small bits of thread sticking out of the end of the sleeves.

“So, um, where does the name Bisset come from? What I mean to say is what area of France?” she quickly clarified.

“Bisset does not belong to a region,” you explained. “It means one who weaves.”

“Oh, how fitting,” Violet hummed.

“It is not my real name,” you admitted. “Just something I picked up for work.”

Violet bit the inside of her cheek, trying not to let her curiosity get the best of her, but when she heard your quiet chuckle from behind her, she tried to turn her head to look back at you.

“What is it?”

“It is okay, you want to know what my name actually is,” you said. “You can ask.”

And so she did, and for the first time she heard your name. She tested it in her own voice, like she was savouring having your name on her tongue, burned into her mind.

“Mine is Violet,” she said quietly.

“Violet,” your French pronunciation of her name made her feel a shiver behind her neck, or maybe that was simply your breath against her skin. “Un nom joli pour une personne même plus jolie.”

Violet blushed at your admission, and you grinned.

“So you understand me then?”

She nodded her head.

“Then what did I say?” you teased her a little, while adding a few more pins, now along the length of the sleeves.

Violet looked at you as if to ask if you were really going to make her say it out loud, and when you didn’t seem to back down she caved.

“You said that it was a beautiful name for a beautiful person,” she said before pressing her lips together.

“Close,” you looked up at her. “A beautiful name for an even more beautiful person.”

“You flatter me too much,” Violet shook her head.

“In my experience, a dress is only as beautiful as the person wearing it,” you said. “It is always a pleasure to make something for someone who shines just as brightly as the fine fabrics and silks. Even more so when they believe it.”

You put in the last pin and looked content with your work.

“I should have this ready by tomorrow,” you told her. “You still wish to pick it up?”

“Yes,” she nodded with a smile.

“Alright, let me help you change so that you can be on your way.”

Carefully, you helped Violet take off the dress, conscious to make sure none of the pins pricked her, and after she stepped out of the dress, you put it on your work table, getting what dress she came with and helping her slip back into it.

“I will see you tomorrow then, in the afternoon, in case anything comes up,” you said and she smiled.

“Tomorrow afternoon it is, Madame.”

“Au revoir,” you gave her a small wave and again, she held her hands against her stomach.

“Au revoir.”

—

Violet wasn’t sure she’d ever gotten so many compliments on a dress as she had on what you’d made for her. There was something new and cutting about it and much to her surprise, it became very hard to book an appointment with either you or Madame Delacroix afterwards.

News had spread to the rest of the ton of you and your talents, and everyone wanted a piece.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Violet managed to get herself in for another appointment, needing a dress for a wedding along with a few odds and ends she thought with all this uncertainty she may as well get done now.

When she arrived at the modiste, it was overflowing with people. She never thought she had seen it so busy and she wondered if it was really all from that simple pink dress. Although the dress itself wasn’t necessarily simple, it was elegant in its style, its function, and of course, it had a certain je ne sais quoi.

“Lady Bridgerton,” you grinned, seeing Violet enter the shop. “I believe I have you to thank for all this business. Both Genviève and I do.”

“Oh, I didn’t do any of the work,” she shook her head. “I simply wore it.”

“And you wore it well, which is half of the battle,” you chuckled. “Come, I am always happy to see my favourite customer.”

Violet’s heart warmed when you called her your favourite, a sense of pride overcoming her. Still out of all of the young debutantes and busy mamas, she somehow remained at the top of your list.

When you arrived at your workspace, closing the door behind you and walking further inside and let out a small breath of air, a bright smile came over your face.

“How can I help you today?”

“I need a dress for a wedding,” she began, “along with a few other things.”

“Such as?” you pressed.

“Some clothes for the country, a few dresses for home, and some new night clothes. I was thinking perhaps a robe and a nightgown or two.”

“Madame, you are keeping my hands busy,” you smiled. “Now I already have the measurements I will need for the dress, so we can pick fabrics, then maybe I can show you some things I have already made in case something catches your eye and we can make alterations and then fill in any gaps after.”

“Sounds splendid to me,” she nodded.

“Parfait,” you grinned and clapped your hands together. “What colour are you thinking for the dress you will wear to the wedding?”

“I usually stick to blue,” she said. “It was the colour my late husband’s family used a lot, but…” she paused.

“You’re thinking of something else,” you put your hands on your hips. “Purple.”

“How did you know?” she looked at you a little astounded, a small chuckle coming past her lips, lacing her words with a certain playfulness.

“A suspicion,” you shrugged with a teasing wink. “Now light or dark?”

“Light, it is getting warmer outside after all.”

You rummaged through some things and pulled out a few swatches of fabric for her to choose from.

“They are all nice,” Violet chewed on her lip while trying to decide. “What do you think?”

You took a long look at the collection in front of you and then looked up at Violet, sizing up each swatch to the woman in front of you, fabricating the dress in your mind’s eye until you figured out which one you liked the most.

“This one, I think.”

You held out a simple silky fabric for her.

“I can add something to it, a design, some beads,” you said. “But I like this colour on you.”

“I will leave it up to you,” she said. “I am sure I will be happy with whatever you make. Surely, the rest of the ton is.”

You chuckled and placed the fabric back down.

“Now some of those other things,” you motioned for her to follow you.

You showed her a few dresses to see what ones she might be interested in taking with her to the country. Some were made with simple cotton for days spent resting inside the house in the off season. Once she had decided which she liked, you set them aside to make sure they were properly fitted for her.

“And nightclothes?” you asked. “What about something like this?”

You pulled out a particularly sheer gown, probably meant for someone on their honeymoon, or maybe at the very least with someone to share it with.

“Um, I am not sure I am the right fit for that,” she chuckled nervously, knowing her resolve with you already wore thin, hoping you would accept her reasoning and move on to something more modest.

“Why not?” you asked.

“I am a widow, Madame, I wouldn’t have anyone to wear it for,” she said truthfully.

“You could wear it for yourself,” you said.

Violet tilted her head and blinked, “Myself?”

“Ben oui,” you nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Who said you have to wear something for someone else?”

Violet chewed on her cheek. She supposed she wasn’t really wearing anything for anyone but herself at the moment.

“It is okay to wear something that makes you feel beautiful even if you are the only one to see it,” you reassured her. “If you do not think you would feel beautiful in this, now that is something different.”

Violet pressed her lips together. It had been so long since she had worn something other than a simple cotton nightdress, but there was something alluring about wearing something that matched her desire, even if she would end up being the only one to see it.

“And the fitting for this?” she asked.

“We could do it right now, if you wish,” you said.

“L-Like for alterations?” she looked at you wide-eyed.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, draping the dress over your arm, ignoring her surprise.

She looked between the dress and herself a few times, contemplating whether or not she should do it, or more, whether she could handle it.

Wearing it for herself was one thing, but wearing it in front of you was something else.

She nervously scratched behind her ear, thinking in her mind that it might be best to pass on this for the moment, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she said,

“Alright then.”

You smiled and turned to go back to where you would do the alterations and Violet blinked hard, processing what had just left her mouth.

“Are you coming, Madame?”

Violet looked over at you and nodded, slowly walking over to the platform.

Similar to before, you helped her out of her dress, and she stood in front of you again in her corset and undergarments, but this time after her dress was placed off to the side, your fingers nimbly worked on the laces on her back, deftly loosening the material and unravelling it until it was loose around her.

Violet, not quite ready to let go, held it up from the front, noticing her breathing becoming shakier by the second.

“I can take that for you,” you extended your hand out for her corset and she swallowed thickly.

It took her a few moments to remember how to work her hands again, carefully peeling the material away from her chest and handing it to you, unsure of what to do with her arms before deciding her best option was to cross them over her chest.

When you returned, you came to stand in front of Violet, the nightgown in your hands, ready to help her put it on. You looked down at her crossed arms then back up at her blue eyes and her cheeks flushed before moving her hands and lifting them above her head so you could slip the fabric over her.

The hem of the dress stopped at her knees, much shorter than anything she was used to wearing. The slight blue colour almost enhanced the sheerness of the fabric and Violet tried to take it all in, running a hand down her midsection, noticing how she could see her bellybutton.

She tried not to focus on how she could feel your gaze burning into what felt like her very soul.

“What do you think of the fit?” she asked quietly.

You pursed your lips.

“I like how it fits around here,” you ran your hands along both sides of her waist down to her hips. “Less, up here.”

Your hands migrated to the fabric barely covering her breasts and she could have sworn she let out a small squeak, feeling your fingers brush against her. Her suspicion was confirmed when you spoke.

“Everything alright, Madame?” you looked up at her.

“Fine,” she whispered.

“T’es sûre?” you murmured, stepping a little closer and adjusting the straps over her shoulders.

“Mhmm,” she almost whimpered, pressing her lips together and looking up at the ceiling. “I’m fine, it is just a little chilly up here,” she said. “You know when you get cold, you um…you feel things more.”

You nodded your head.

“That is not to say it was cold before, I am just cold now because-”

“Tais toi.”

Violet blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” you looked up at her and placed a finger under her chin. “I said tais toi.”

Despite Violet’s shock that you had essentially told her to shut up, she found herself speaking still.

“Really?” she began. “You won’t even use le vous poli?” she asked, referring to your less polite and more informal grammar choice.

“Why would I use that when everything I want to do to you is very, very impolite?” you whispered, merely millimeters away from her mouth, your breath mingling with hers.

Violet wasn’t sure what overcame her, she grabbed your hands, placing them over her breasts, her mouth agape as shaky breaths fanned over your face.

With that permission, you brushed your thumbs on top of the fabric, over her nipples, her whimper deliciously clouding your senses, encouraging you to do it again.

“If you are really so set on wearing this for someone,” you gripped her tighter, eliciting a surprised gasp, your lips travelling closer to her ear. “You could wear it for me, ma belle.”

Violet hummed and leaned her head against yours, feeling you move along her until your foreheads were pressed together, noses brushing against each other.

“We shouldn’t,” Violet breathed.

“We shouldn’t,” you shook your head, still moving closer until you captured her lips with yours. Her hands found their way to your waist, narrowly avoiding your pin cushion, pulling you against her, your thumbs still gently massaging over her breasts, content hums and soft moans echoing in your mouth as you kissed her.

When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against Violet’s again, your eyes shut.

“You have another appointment don’t you?” Violet whispered and you nodded and she had to bite back the whine that wanted to escape.

“Come back tonight,” you murmured, your hands moving to hold both sides of Violet’s face, a reassurance. “Two doors down.”

“W-What would I tell my carriage driver?”

“Pick your most discreet one,” you whispered, pressing your lips to hers again in a much softer kiss.

She nodded her head and when you pulled apart further and she opened her eyes, she could see you smiling back at her and she thought if you were so certain, maybe everything would be okay.

It wasn’t until much later in the evening when Violet was standing outside your door, waiting for you to come and open it, that the reality of the situation fully set on her. She was caught in such a haze before, her stomach swirling with an all consuming nausea that was almost delightful.

She felt her arms wrapping around herself tighter, nervously looking around to make sure there were no unwanted eyes watching her, until she heard the door open in front of her, bringing her attention back to the present.

You were quick to wordlessly take her hand and bring her inside, closing the door behind you.

“You are tense,” you remarked, holding her hand in both of yours, gently massaging its back with your thumbs.

Violet was unsure of what to expect, but she did know wherever this led, she wanted to follow it, to chase that staggering violent feeling until she couldn’t take it any more.

“I just didn’t want anyone to see,” she whispered. “I am fine.”

You smiled. “Bien.”

You helped her take off her cloak, biting your bottom lip when you saw what she was wearing underneath.

“C’est jolie,” you hummed. “But I think I am more excited to see what is underneath.”

Violet chuckled nervously, feeling a certain heat come to her cheeks. She let herself be pulled into you when you took your hand in hers, melting into the kiss that followed, allowing you to lead her through the hallway and into what she assumed was a bedroom.

Her suspicions were fully confirmed when she felt the back of her legs hit a plush mattress, making her fall back, only to be gently lowered the rest of the way by you, now leaning over top of her.

“W-Wait,” Violet whispered.

“Hmm?” you looked at her patiently. “Ça va?”

“What happens next?” she asked.

“Do you want me to explain it to you?”

You tilted your head to look at her and she nodded.

“First I take this off,” you murmured, working at the series of ribbons in the front of her dress that kept it tied shut.

She watched as you undid each one, single handedly, revealing more and more of her bare skin until your hand came and fully pushed both parts of the fabric aside, leaving her exposed in front of you.

“Then I listen,” you kissed her jaw. “Your breathing, your body, it…tells me things.”

One hand moved to cup her breast and she sighed.

“Like that,” you smiled. “And I follow that, I see where it takes me.”

You pinched her nipple between your thumb and pointer finger and she arched slightly into your touch. Carefully, you twisted it between your fingers, your mouth trailing its kisses down her neck and chest, until eventually your mouth replaced your fingers, tongue swirling and teeth grazing against the soft and sensitive flesh.

Violet let out a breath of air, a whine caught in the back of her throat as she arched further into you, her hand coming to hold your head against her.

With a gentle kiss, you paused your mouth’s movements, taking your hand from where it rested against her waist, dragging it across her stomach.

“Next,” you began, “No, it is too vulgar in English,” you shook your head.

“Tell me in French,” she begged. “Dit-le moi, s’il vous plaît.”

You smiled and kissed her breast again.

“Since you asked so nicely.”

Your finger trailed a little lower, now tracing lines across the base of her stomach, the skin there soft and stretched from many pregnancies, and oh so precious.

“Je prends mes doigts,” your fingers moved even lower, the blood pumping to Violet’s head so fast she thought she might faint. “Et je les appuie ici.”

“Oh!” she moaned, her head turned to the side, your thumb firmly against her, massaging in slow tantalizing and tortuous circles.

“Mais, je préfère les mettre comme ça.”

Violet gasped, your name on her lips as she felt your fingers inside her, beginning a slow and steady pace that her body seemed to match with the movement of her hips.

“Is this good, or do you want more?” you asked her, not stopping the movement of your hand and fingers.

“More, please,” she breathed.

“En Français, ma belle.”

“S-S’il vous plaît.”

“Bien sûre,” you smiled and increased your pace, fingers carefully searching until they found the intense response they were seeking from Violet.

“There,” she nodded her head, eyes squeezed shut. “Mmm.”

She pressed her lips together so tightly you could have sworn they went white.

You listened to her instructions, continuing to work at that spot, leaning over top of her, feeling her breathing pick up with each fan of warm breath over your face. You pressed a few kisses to her jaw, your ear right next to her mouth, listening intently as breathing turned into moans that didn’t stop.

You could feel the heat radiating off of every part of her, clouding your own senses, encouraging you further to push her over that edge, eager movements guiding her until her mind went blissfully blank, her back arched towards you while you slowed your hand, her breathing much more ragged than before until you carefully removed your fingers.

Wiping them carefully on the sheets next to her, you then took her face in your hand, pressing a slow kiss to her lips.

Violet hummed into your lips, like she wanted to say something so you pulled away, watching her finally open her eyes once more.

“Can I?” she whispered.

“Can you what, chèrie?”

“Do that for you?” she asked. “Teach me.”

You grinned, leaning down and capturing her lips in another kiss.

When you pulled apart this time, she pushed herself up on her forearms, watching as you moved to sit next to her. She knew the first step, her hand brushing against the sleeve of your nightgown, pushing it off your shoulder, studying how your skin felt against her fingers.

You took your arm out of your sleeve and waited for her to do the same with the opposite side before tugging the sides down until the fabric pooled at your hips.

She leaned in to kiss you, guiding you to lie back on the mattress before her hands came back to the fabric, pulling it completely off of you.

She took a moment to admire you in front of her, feeling that same intense pull towards you as she did when you had first become acquainted.

With her lips against yours once more, she hooked her fingers around the top of your underwear, pulling it down as her lips detached from yours so she could finish the job.

She leaned over top of you, her brown hair falling in waves on either side of her head, the soft fabric of her robe-like dress, creating a curtain around her, but her body still on full display for you.

You couldn’t help but reach out and snake a hand around her waist, your thumb brushing back and forth in small motions.

“Tell me,” she whispered. “What do I do next?”

You moved your hand up from her waist tracing along her side and down her arm, until her wrist was in your hands.

“You can touch me here.”

You placed her hand on your breast. “Or here.”

Your hand moved hers lower, only hovering over your core.

“Or anywhere that feels right when you listen.”

She nodded her head slowly, your hand finishing its guidance as she watched with bated breath, your eyes closed anticipatorily, small shaky breaths coming past your lips as her fingers made contact and you finally let go of her wrist.

Violet tucked some of her hair behind her ear with her free hand before letting herself feel and explore you.

She paid close attention, listening to what sounds filled the air, a small smile coming to her lips when you moaned her name.

She moved so her thumb replaced her fingers, continuing to brush against that spot that seemed to make your face twist and contort in beautiful ways she’d never seen before.

Violet became curious, her other hand moving to cup your breast, brushing her thumb over your nipple, noticing the new reaction it had brought, a groan and a plea for more.

Both of her thumbs worked in tandem on different parts of your body, pulling your focus in two directions, back and forth with no end in sight.

Violet was entranced by you, squirming slightly under her touch, the fact that she was the one making you feel this way, like you had no control. The only thing possible for you to do was let her know how much you wanted, no, needed her.

“Violet,” you whimpered. “Please, m-more.”

Violet smiled devilishly and leaned down, her lips ghosting your ear.

“En Français.”

“S’il vous plaît, Violet, mon Dieu,” you groaned before she increased the intensity of her ministrations.

Her hand moved from your breast up to your face, holding it up so she could kiss you as her thumb worked against you, a warmth spreading in her stomach as you moaned into her mouth, your hips meeting her touch until you were gripping onto Violet for dear life as the only hope of reminding yourself you were, in fact, still on earth.

She stopped a little more abruptly than you would have liked, still thrumming with pleasure, and holding her close.

“Was that right?” she teased and when you finally looked up at her, grabbing her chin with your thumb and forefinger, pulling her down in a kiss, your last words, a mutter against her lips.

“Tais toi.”

TAGLIST —

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