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highvern · 8 months ago

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Patterns II

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: exhibitionism, fingering, hand job, dry humping, oral (face sitting), lots of teasing/minor degradation if you squint, overstimulation, breath play

Length: ~9.9k

Note: part 2 is here, let's goooooo! thanks for being so patient and thank you @millennial-fangirl and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing!

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

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This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Avoiding Wonwoo post D-Day, as Amina calls it, proves to be surprisingly easy. An entire week of back to back meetings leaves you blocking off parts of your calendar just to use the bathroom. And according to the grapevine, there’s been zero proof of life from Wonwoo’s end either which has caused Mingyu to break out in hives.

But as the weekend draws closer you’re given the greatest gift the universe can bestow.

“Monday is a disconnect day for the client which means all of us are on black out. No emails, no phone calls, nothing.” Mona announces in the team huddle.

Tears of joy bead in your eyes at the news. However, it's short lived.

“We’ll need to hit the ground running when we come back so make sure everything is done Friday. Even if you have to stay late. Understand?”

Your laptop pings with a message in the corner.

Gerard: how does she make free PTO sound like hell?

Y/N: i think she said it was her special talent when we did ice breakers at the beginning of the project

Gerard: oh yeah right after she said she hates puppies

Y/N: and joy

Mona slaps her own computer shut, sending you ten feet in the air before continuing, “If there isn’t anything else. We can wrap this up. Shoot me a message if there are any questions.”

“And how will you be spending your new found free time?” You ask.

Gerard holds the door open as you walk past, “The way the universe intends. In bed, sleeping. Maybe I’ll finally unpack my suitcase from the last trip Mona dragged me on.”

“Wasn’t that like, a month ago?” You ask.

“And?”

The rest of the day is a blur, rushing from meeting to meeting with barely enough time to breathe. It’s only the end of the day that grants you the next glimpse at the world outside the dreary office walls. Albeit through the bright screen of your cell phone.

Once back at your desk, you unlock your phone to find several unread messages. Several from Amina document her jealousy that you and Lisa have long weekends. Lisa offers to kick Mingyu off the long planned trip to the adorable bed and breakfast she found for their anniversary.

Amina 🍑💗: FREE ME FROM THE SHACKLES OF CORPORATE AMERICA

Y/N: Your honor free her!!!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: Girls trip! Girls trip! Girls trip!

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: mingyu will understand

Y/N: I am begging you to go have gross emotional sex somewhere other than our apartment

Lisa 👁️🫦👁️: we’ve done it plenty of places that arent the apartment :)

Y/N: whore

But a separate thread unleashes a coldsnap in your veins.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): forgot to give these back…

Attached is a photo. A familiar swatch of cotton contrasting with the rich navy of his blanket in the background. His long fingers grip the hem, involuntarily jolting memories of them curled around your body.

Upon realizing you’re sitting out in the open staring at a picture of your panties, you hastily lock your phone and shove it into the deep recesses of your purse. Thank the stars no one else was around to glimpse the crude picture or the sudden sweat along your brow. How dare Wonwoo’s first attempt at speaking to you post hook up be a picture of your underwear in the middle of the work day. Who did he think he was?

Overcoming the initial embarrassment that floods your system, you decide to ignore his bid for attention. If you ignored him then he wouldn’t know the power he held. Plain and simple.

—

The next few days fly past without incident. Wonwoo remains silent and allows you to fall back into forgetting his existence.

As Friday hurdles forward, the usual shenanigans of bar hopping is replaced by plans for a movie night. You aren’t the only one suffering from sleep deprivation; Amina’s job ran her into the ground, and same with Lisa’s.

The idea fills you with dread, spurred by yearning to spend every moment of free time to catch up on sleep. But knowing your friends, the probability of successfully ditching is on the negative side of zero, especially since you’ve barely spoken to one another all week and they’d both be out of town for the weekend.

The atmosphere of the office is sullen. Late Friday afternoons are reserved for pretending to work and gossiping. Unless you work for your team. In which case, you’ve spent the past hour agonizing over different powerpoint transitions and if they convey professionalism yet approachable.

A throat clearing behind you breaks your trace.

“Okay, I need to go home.”

Looking up from your laptop, an aura of visible graveness radiates from Gerard. His theater minor really came in handy.

“Why?” You ask skeptically.

Gerard was nice. But he wasn’t that nice.

“Because I’m already going to be stuck here all night.” He sighs. “And there’s no point in both of us suffering. You have the report ready?”

“Yeah, I just need to make a new powerpoint and get it finalized.”

“Then let me handle it. Mona wants me to re-do the other report you need for the deck so I’ll make it when I’m done.”

Hands moving of their own volition, you shove your scattered belongings into your purse. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” He groans. “If I need something I’ll call. Now go. Be free.”

He shoos you without another word, diving into his own computer. Before Gerard can change his mind you’re in the elevator and own your way home.

Thirty minutes later, you find Amina and Lisa already in the midst of a full apartment clean up. A 2000s playlist blasts from the speaker on the counter while Amina shoots daggers at the furniture in the living room.

“Do you think we should move the couch?” Amina shouts at your entrance.

Her lips move but you can’t hear anything over the blasting noise. “Huh?”

“The couch!” She repeats after cutting off the sound.

You nod before realizing you're still in work clothes. Rushing to your room, you quickly change into something more presentable.

When you return, Lisa is in the kitchen putting away dishes. You and Amina descend on the living room, heads bobbing in sync to the music while you work. Under combined efforts, the space shifts from wild disarray to sparkling clean in no time.

Moving in sync, you both work to tetter the furniture into different arrangements. It takes four attempts before she throws her hands up, accepting defeat and moving to the counter to join Lisa. You fail to silence a half hearted cheer before flopping down onto the soft cushions of the sofa.

“Who said they were coming again?” Amina asks, her head resting on her arms crossed in front of her on top of the cool marble.

“Mingyu, Soonyoung, Eva,” Lisa pauses as she scrolls through her texts to find confirmation. “Wonwoo.”

Both Amina and Lisa snap their necks to pointedly look at you.

Much to your own disappointment, your cheeks heat. Avoiding the scrutinous gazes of your roommates, you roll off the couch and busy yourself with replacing the pillows and blankets Amina tossed aside earlier.

“Have you talked to him at all?” Amina questions, walking over to reorganize the coffee table, sweeping their trinkets and books away for the drinks and food that would soon be spread atop it.

“Nope.”

“He hasn’t texted you or you haven’t responded?” Amina’s eyebrows furrow, as if Wonwoo’s silence is the most confusing thing between you two.

“He hasn’t texted.” You lie, pulling at a frayed thread at the corner of the pillow.

Lisa joins the effort, folding blankets and organizing them in piles. “Well that’s lame.”

“I’m sorry? Weren't you the one who threatened to kill him?”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “So? A girl can’t be dramatic?”

“There’s dramatic and then there’s you.” Amina chimes.

“Whatever.” Lisa scoffs before looking at you. “Wonwoo’s cool but if he ghosted you then he’s a loser.”

You shrug before responding, “It was just a one time thing. It’s not like I was reaching out to him either.”

“I thought you said he was good?” Amina asks with round eyes.

“He was but it was just a one time thing. Let’s not make it weird, okay?” You wait until they both nod before continuing. “What time is everyone coming?”

“Around seven, I think?” Lisa throws the question to Amina.

“Yeah, seven.” Amina answers, eyeing the furniture again.

Glancing at your phone you spot the time, 4:46PM. Perfect.

“I’m gonna shower and take a nap,” You call, heading down the hall.

Once in the bathroom, you undress as the water warms to a tolerable temperature. Finding it suitable, you make to enter but the dig of your phone distracts you. The screen illuminates and you spot a familiar name.

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I was planning on coming with mingyu tonight but if you don’t want me to I'll hang back

Wonwoo (lisa bf roommate): I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything

Strange as it may be, you're oddly endeared by his consideration. But his last messages sit on the screen just above and cut the warmth short.

Y/N: and yet there’s a picture of you holding my panties that says the opposite

Y/N: im not spooked so easily

Locking your phone, you jump in the shower. The hot water lulls away the anticipation flooring through your veins. It didn’t have to be weird. Tonight would prove it.

The short nap leaves you disoriented but the laughter of friends draws you out from the covers. Bravely, you change out of pajamas into more presentable pajamas consisting of sweats and a sweatshirt. Once settled, you slide into the hall and meet company.

Turning the corner and entering the kitchen, you scan the group. Eva and Soonyoung sit across the counter, both of them smiling your way. Amina is fussing about, attempting to organize the drinks spread across the counter into some kind or order. An expensive bottle of liquor Mingyu no doubt supplied sits in the middle like a prize, however he’s nowhere to be seen along with his roommate and girlfriend. You try to assist Amina but the space between the island counter and the stove is barely large enough for one body, let alone two. Amina shoos you away after barely a minute.

A trio of voices echo down the hallway.

“Every project he doesn’t want to do just gets thrown on me.” A deep voice complains. “I don’t even know what his actual job is.”

The timber sends electricity down your spine. You try not to stare as Wonwoo steps into the light of the kitchen trailing behind Lisa. Apparently Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Lisa were tasked with food duty; however, Lisa's hands are completely empty. A stark contrast to Wonwoo and Mingyu behind her balancing several stacked boxes between them.

You exchange a brief friendly smile with Wonwoo, before he continues with Mingyu. Shoulders sagging, your relief is only momentary. The weight of your friends watching the interaction is unbearable, despite everyone being wrapped in their own conversations. Lisa and Amina argue over the best order to organize everything while Mingyu sets about actually arranging the boxes. Soonyoung and Eva exchange gossip at the counter, their own laughter slicing through the air above them.

Pouring yourself a drink, you snatch the pitcher next to Eva, no doubt containing one of her deadly concoctions. Filling the glass halfway, you take a sip. Fruit and spicy sweetness tingling on your tongue followed by the warmth of cinnamon. The slight burn is masked with a deceptive tang of citrus. It goes down much too easily for the amount of alcohol Eva includes in her drinks. You estimate it’ll take two servings before you’re asleep against the arm of the sofa. Empting the glass, you pour another helping and cast off from the counter.

Heading into the living room, you beeline for a spot on the sofa before anyone can object. Despite Amina’s attempts earlier, a few people would have to take to the floor and you refuse to be one of them.

“Alright everyone, come eat.” Amina calls in the small space.

You forgo the pizza for now. There would be plenty after everyone settled. Wrapping in one of the large fleece blankets, you burrow down into the sofa. Bending your knees, your legs cross while you lean back into the seam between the plush cushion and armrest, head perfectly positioned to see the television.

Your cup empties before anyone comes to join you. Lisa and Mingyu squash into the recliner on the other side of the living room, the shabby chair groaning any time their weight shifts. You hope it's enough of a deterrent for their determined wandering hands. Many movie nights had been ruined because of their less than family friendly activities. Amina settles in front of the coffee table amongst the pile of cushions and thick blankets. Eva and Soonyoung curl up on the loveseat against the wall.

Wonwoo crashes down into the space next to you, sending a tight lipped smile at your responding frown. His legs spread apart as he leans forward to eat. Your shin brushes against his thigh through the blanket but fatigue prevents any sort of reaction beyond registering the presence of his body.

Someone knocks out the lights and your eyes cement shut. The horror movie Lisa chose begins, lights from the screen dancing across your eyelids. It's a shallow rest at best, allowing you to catch snippets of dialogue from the characters and muffled whispers from your friends. But it’s like being underwater, senses dull as you experience it all from far far away.

You even forget about Wonwoo until he leans back into the cushions. The contact from his thigh breaking when he props his legs on the coffee table. A particularly loud scream comes from the TV but it's Wonwoo’s voice that startles you.

“Mind sharing?” He whispers, asking for permission despite already lifting the corner of the blanket draped over your knee.

You shake your head, nuzzling further into the armrest and away from temptation.

Wonwoo untucks the fold of the blanket from under your legs, stretching it across his lap. The heat of his side radiates into you even more. Even in your lethargic state the hyper awareness refuses to fade. It stokes a part of you wishing to move onto his lap and work you both back into the blissful high of a few nights ago. But you refuse to acknowledge the craving to dive into him, press your face into the front of his sweater and allow the beat of his heart to lull you into a rest.

You're fully aware all you need to do to get the first thing is let him give it to you. You were the one who ran away, shunned his attempts for a repeat, ignored him. Wonwoo provided several opportunities for a repeat of Friday night, now it was up to you to accept his invitation.

But try as you might not to care, the dread of what your friends will think rears its head. It's a cop out; no one really cares that it's Wonwoo, only happy you’re finally getting laid again.

You need to act before your nerve fades but in a room packed full of watchful eyes you’re unsure how to proceed. Feigning a yawn, your eyes pry open to lazily scan the room. Soonyoung has Eva between his legs, her back resting against his chest.. From where you are sitting it's evident they both have their eyes glued to the screen, Eva takes movie night too seriously to allow any funny business. Amina slouched down enough you can no longer see the top of her curly hair. Cautiously swiping at Lisa and Mingyu, it takes only a second before you look away. Thankfully Eva insists on blasting the TV volume to a deafening decibel.

The movement of Wonwoo’s chest, lulled by the shallow rises and falls, clarifies in the fliting light of the screen. More memories of flushed skin shuddering with ragged breaths come to the forefront. Following the curve of his throat to the arch of his jaw, you find Wonwoo already staring back from the corner of his eye.

He arches an eyebrow, challenging and curious. It demolishes whatever resolve you possess to not look away. Instead, you focus back on the movie while untangling your legs and resting them on the coffee table next to his, ankles crossing under the blanket. The sudden motion leaves the entire span of your right leg flush with his left, a comforting warmth spreading between the layers of thick fabric between..

In the haste, the top of the blanket falls down to your lap. You tug it back up swiftly, wanting the layer to conceal your next action from the rest of the world. Satisfied with re-arranganged fabric, your hand doesn’t return to its previous home in your lap. Instead, it rests in the small stretch of space between you and Wonwoo, allowing your shoulders to brush lightly and her fingers to ghost along his thigh.

The heat of his sideways gaze continues to heat your cheeks despite your attempt at playing oblivious. Shifting closer, you pause; Wonwoo doesn’t take the opportunity to move away. Instead, he presses back. Some twisted part inside your mind relishes in victory.

Wonwoo’s left arm slouches down from its place on top of the cushion, joining yours in the space under the camouflage of the blanket. The back of your hands timidly brush before he extends his arm. It's sweet for a moment; shy and coy. But Wonwoo doesn’t allow you to sink into the gesture because his hand rests on top of your thigh and squeezes.

Thankfully you’re far enough back that no one can see unless they turn their neck so far it almost snaps off. Even then, the thick fabric of the blanket doesn’t give away what's happening underneath. The only clues are your labored breath and the shit eating grin threatening to split Wonwoo’s lips. The two couples on either side of the room are in far more compromising positions but with Wonwoo’s hand so high on your leg, you might as well be nude.

Calloused fingertips begin tracing across the inside of your thigh, just above your knee. Without thinking, your ankles uncross, letting your legs part slightly to grant him more space. A wince escapes between Wonwoo’s teeth from your nails digging into his own thigh.

Wonwoo’s hands are lazy in their journey upwards. Fingers massaging firmly against the supple skin, pulling at the flesh with a fraction of the intensity he’s capable of. His thumb kneads into cords of muscle, working out the knots he detects along the way. When he grazes the edge of the large bruise, you stiffen.

Most of the hickies he gifted that night healed, some already disappearing completely. The one he’s prodding now stubbornly remained, much to your mortification. With the irritated skin still sore to the touch, you were constantly reminded of its presence each time you moved. In your peripheral, Wonwoo turns his head. A downward twitch of your jaw motions for him to continue.

The scene on the TV is almost pitch black, throwing the room into a similar darkness. Wonwoo makes use of the cover and creeps his hand past the waistband of your sweats. He lets his palm rest against the lower part of your stomach, the pleasant warmth seeping in, soothing the nerves. The respite is short lived when his long middle finger traces along the elastic of your panties, teasing the skin under the band.

Sweat blooms on your brow and your breath grows stunted. It's embarrassing how worked up he has you. Barely twenty minutes into the movie, less than five of Wonwoo’s touch and yet the distinct wetness between your legs swells. But rather than relief, Wonwoo waits. And he waits. And he waits.

What is he waiting for? You think.

Eventually the movie will end, signaling your friends to get up. The second any of them spared a glance at your corner of the room everything will become clear and exactly what takes place under the blanket will become easily decipherable.

But there is nothing you can do to make Wonwoo’s hand dip lower and feel the dampness he spurred. Attempting to distract yourself from suffering, you switch focus on controlling your breath. Counting slowly to four while inhaling, holding for another four, and then exhaling in the same measure. Even your hand on Wonwoo’s thigh follows the rhythm.

Mouth watering at the tense flex of the muscle under your fingers, you indulge in the visual of his room again. This time, he’s in nothing but his sweatpants, shirt nowhere to be seen. Red nail marks marr his chest and his hair is wild. You’re perched in his lap, completely naked and grinding against the evident bulge, dripping a wet spot on to the gray fabric. Wonwoo would watch while you used his body to get off, his hands tearing into the sheets. Fantasy Wonwoo would beg. He’d beg to kiss you, beg to touch you. Nothing like the devil sitting next to you, forcing you to plead for every once pleasure.

Next time Wonwoo would beg. But patience was never a virtue you took pride in.

Your hand wanders higher, finding exactly what you knew you would. Everything in you fights against grinning like the cat who got the canary. Despite the fact that you haven't really touched, Wonwoo is half hard. Even more satisfying is how he strains against his pants with only a few teasing passes.

He releases a heavy sigh when you push against him a little more firmly. Breaking attention from the movie, you sneak a peek at his reaction.

Wonwoo’s features are void of emotion. No matching bead of sweat at his temple and the heat you feel on your cheeks fails to present itself on his. Not even a wrinkle across his forehead. He almost looks…bored. It's a stark contrast to what you can feel under her palm.

But then you look closer and discover a discrete clench of his jaw and the minute flare of his nostrils. A glimpse at his neck highlights the stiff muscles, taunt like he’s fighting to break out of his own skin. You can’t stop looking. Subtle as the signs are, Wonwoo is just as much of a mess as you are. The only difference being he’s better at concealing it.

Wonwoo continues to play with the band of your underwear, content to pull the elastic and let it snap against your skin, providing no solace. It's maddening but gives you a chance to brace for his next move. He really only has two options, pull his hand away and end the game. Or push his fingers down further and indulge.

When a deafening scream blasts the TV prompts everyone to jump, he strikes. Wonwoo’s fingers wedge in the tight space between your legs. The sudden intrusion makes your thighs clench, a detrimental mistake since it forces the heel of his palm applying pressure to your clit. He wastes no time before prodding against the soaking fabric curiously. Extending his fingers downward, Wonwoo teases at your entrance through your underwear. You could cry at the relief but control yourself, lip nearly splitting from biting back a squeak. You’d sell your soul to the devil if it meant you could be alone, sitting on his lap as he talks you through it, whispering for you to be good while he stretched you over his cock again and again.

But that's impossible. So you’ll settle for this.

Your friends are none the wiser while you build each other up under the blankets. When you stuff your hand under Wonwoo’s waistband, you find out he is certainly not wearing underwear. Immediately you take advantage, letting your thumb graze against the weeping tip. The angle doesn’t allow for a smooth so you play with the head, letting catch on his slit to over and over. Each pass earns you a shudder of his stomach against the back of your forearm.

Wonwoo pushes aside the thin strip of your underwear, two fingers tracing your entrance before dipping inside, curling up to his middle knuckle. It’s hardly enough to get off but the threat of getting caught spawns more and more arousal. At this rate, your sweatpants will be sporting a wet patch if they aren’t already.

She’s so fucking wet. Wonwoo thinks, the revelation sending a shot of want straight to his cock. He curses whatever he did in a past life preventing him from hauling you into your room and burying himself inside your cunt until he passes out. The irony of the position isn’t lost on him. Wonwoo waited all week for a green light and of course you decided to give it to him in the middle of a packed room with a dozen prying eyes and ears. But he isn’t one to shy away from a challenge. If you want him to get you off under the blanket, then he’s more than happy to rise to the challenge.

Wonwoo repositions his hand, allowing his fingers to play with your clit, abandoning the shallow thrust at your entrance. When his fingernail scrapes delicately over the bundle of nerves, a whimper breaks from through your parted lips and almost blows their cover.

The movie, unlike you or Wonwoo, is at its climax. Loud screams and distorted music occupy the attention of everyone in the room. But still, you both pause, frozen and waiting for a sign someone heard. Wonwoo debates pulling away. He’d seen the film before, and while his mind struggles to remember the plot he knows there's simply not enough time left before the credits roll and the illusion is shattered.

Brain riddled with hormones and lust, Wonwoo faces an impossible choice. Call timeout and hope you’re generous enough to give him another chance. Or, he can make the most of the opportunity literally at hand and pray he’s fast enough.

He’d already waited an entire week, what was another day? And if he waited then maybe he’d get to fuck you properly, away from any onlookers. Where you can sing all the noises that drive him crazy.

The way you play with his cock makes confident he’ll get another turn; so, with herculean effort, Wonwoo extracts his hand from your underwear, moves it back on top of her thigh and gives a minute squeeze in apology. He looks down at your face, witnessing the moments of confusion. Your eyebrows knot under his scrutiny.

“Later.” He mouths, hoping you’ll accept his promise to finish what was started.

In an instant, confusion transforms into cold rage. Features smoothing, your chin tips in defiance. Wonwoo already regrets his decision, tempted to go right back to where he left off but you look like you might rip his arm off if he tries. You turn back to the movie and ignore his existence.

The hand in his pants doesn’t leave, and a chill of fear trickles down his spine. You aren’t prone to violence, but having his most prized possession in the palm of your hand, coupled with the sinister coldness on your face doesn’t inspire any faith that he’ll walk away unscathed.

Wonwoo isn’t sure how much time passes before you act. Seconds drag on, forcing him on the edge of his seat with anticipation. The knee closest to him bends, your foot resting on the end of the cushion, providing a tent of space over his lap. A decisive twist of her wrist catches him off guard. The space between his lap and the blanket hides the rough fists of his cock with their friends only feet away. The motion steals his breath; the way you use the slick to slide across his shaft, squeezing tightly to the point stars float in his vision.

With embarrassing swiftness, he’s close. Teeth pinching at his lip barely prevent the grunts building in his chest; praises for the devil next to him dying on the tip of his tongue. Wonwoo’s hips threaten to cant up, matching the rhythm of your hand with his thrusts. The warning signs of his end sizzle through his veins, the fuzzy snaps of pleasure racing up his spine.

Wonwoo takes one last glance at your face, finding he’s already being watched. His eyes scan the mischievous smirk on your lips and realizes a second too late that he fell right into a trap. Without warning, your hand stills.

You smile sweetly as your hand slips out of his pants, snaking it into the bottom of his sweatshirt to wipe the mess of cum against his stomach. When your hand leaves his body and returns to your own lap, Wonwoo he’s been punched in the gut.

He has no time to ponder what the hell just happened because the credits roll and Amina is already up and moving towards the lights. Wonwoo rubs his eyes, thinking about anything that will make his hard-on deflate before he has to stand up. Cold showers, old neighbors morning sex routine, getting hit with a car… he repeats like a mantra.

On his left, you hop up, all but skipping down the hall and into the darkness. Wonwoo wants to chase and finish whatever the hell just happened given that his cock is soft enough he can tuck it up in his waistband. But his phone buzzes before he can. The screen lights up with a new message from the minx herself.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

The next morning, Wonwoo wakes with utter disbelief at his life. Your texts burned into his skull.

Y/N (lisa roommate): maybe next time :)

Wonwoo: Next time?

Y/N (lisa roommate): you can think of this while you wait

The photo haunted him in his sleep. He stared at it for so long he’s sure he could draw the details from memory.

On your knees facing away from the mirror, your ass is on full display. Wonwoo doesn’t know it is better or worse that you’re lent forward with a lewd curve to your spine. Better because he can see everything. Worse because he received it minutes after you fled to your room, which means the wet cling of your panties to your folds was his doing.

More effective than the picture is the fact you were all but twenty feet away in the privacy of your room, taking nudes while he pretended everything was normal. The entire time he helped tidy up, the walk back to his apartment, and long before he fell asleep, Wonwoo wondered if you were touching yourself. He wanted to ask; ask if you were thinking about him while you did it and if you weren’t, could he give you something to think about?

But every time he opened the thread to message you his finger refused to type. Wonwoo remembered what it was like to have you on your knees. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. But now he has an idea what you look like from the back and it might end his life.

Instead of spending the night with the subject of his desires, Wonwoo found himself the subject of torture. Lisa came back to their apartment so the couple could leave first thing in the morning to some rural bed and breakfast outside the city to celebrate their anniversary. Apparently, they decided to start their celebration early. Hours of Lisa and Mingyu going at it across the hall stretched on with no end in sight.

Their usual antics would piss Wonwoo off but he’d deal with it. However, last night it only reminded him how much he is not getting laid and he has no one to blame but himself. Crushing a pillow over his head, Wonwoo attempted to make up for the sleep he is already desperately missing.

His efforts were hopeless. Barely five minutes passed before he turned fitful, tossing and turning without finding comfort. Every trick he knows failed; counting his breath, meditation, relaxing music, turning off his phone. Nothing works. He gives up after an hour.

When dawn came, Wonwoo’s bad mood set in to plague him the rest of the day.

Sheltering down in his room, he remains hidden until he is certain Mingyu and Lisa are long gone. When he does finally leave his bed, the choke of storm clouds outside have darkened the skies to the point that if not for the clock on his phone he would think it's closer to midnight than it is to noon.

When he decides to step out to grab food, his mistake doesn’t hit him until he’s already shut the door.

Wonwoo’s keys are still on the kitchen counter. Next to his wallet. And his will to live.

Several streets over, your day is going much much better; refreshed from a full night sleep and the thought of what Wonwoo’s face looked like opening the picture.

Lisa and Amina granted clemency last night, cleaning the mess from the evening before abandoning you for the weekend. Lisa off with Mingyu while Amina joined the college friends on their annual retreat (re: party weekend at the coast). Leaving you all to your lonesome for the next two days, nothing but rest and relaxation dancing on the horizon.

The murky darkness of thunder and rain outside the window is staved off by the warm glow from the floor lamp in the corner of the living room and the dancing lights of the TV as a random show whispers quietly. The warm air is clogged with the sweet smell of vanilla and bergamot from one of Amina’s large candles that rests on the coffee table. And bundle on the couch in the same blanket soiled from the night before, you doze off like a house cat.

A rogue buzzing pulls you back from the shallow slumber, eyes cracking open lazily to search for the device lost in the cushions. By the time you find it, the call has gone to voicemail. The notification on the screen means you must still be dreaming.

MISSED CALL: Wonwoo

A flash of panic tightens your chest. A million thoughts race by, all regarding what could prompt Wonwoo to call you. He doesn’t call you. In the year and a half you’ve known each other there isn’t a single instance of it. The complete uncharacteristic nature of it has you calling him back before giving it a second thought.

“Are you home?” Snaps through the speaker after the first ring.

He sounds pissed. It’s not the usual sarcastic lit that graces his interactions. It’s dry and pointed and already grating your nerves.

“Well, hello to you.” You sneer back.

“Hi.” He deadpans. You can feel the eye roll through the phone. “Are you home?”

“Why?”

It’s 9pm on a Saturday night and both your roommates are out… of course you’re home.

“I’m locked out and I know Mingyu gave Lisa a copy of the key.”

“You’re locked out?” You parrot. It’s not that it’s an impossible situation, it’s just ridiculously unlucky timing.

“Good to know you’re listening.” He bites.

“Actually, come to think of it, I’m out of town.”

“Y/N…” He interrupts, voice clearly exhausted.

Normally, you would goad him until blue in the face. His stunt last night doesn’t warrant patience. But you know he’s had a week from hell too based on what Mingyu and Lisa shared.

“Yeah I’m home. But Lisa took her keys with her so I doubt the spare is here.”

“Great, just fucking great.” He erupts.

You wince, “Sorry.”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond immediately. The measured cadence of his breath echoes through the line. When he finally speaks again he sounds calmer.

“Not your fault,” he murmurs. “Timing is just shit given the week I’ve had.”

“Your landlord can’t let you in?”

“Not answering his phone.”

“And Mingyu?”

“Also not answering.”

After that, words fail you. But given Wonwoo truly seems to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, you throw him a bone.

Readjusting the phone on your shoulder, your hands pick at the frayed hem of the blanket. “Look, if you want to sleep on the couch here, be my guest.”

Silence.

“If you’d rather call a locksmith go ahead.” You rush. “Just thought I’d offer.”

“If you wanted a slumber party you could have told me.”

Apparently, even poor luck can’t prevent Wonwoo from being a complete smartass.

“Have fun sleeping outside!” You croon sweetly, looking for the button to end the call.

“Wai—”

Phone locked and tossed to the floor, you burrow back into the nest of pillows and blankets. Any prior drowsiness transforms into irritation.

Less than a minute passes before your phone begins ringing once more.

It's your turn to snap at him. “What?”

The pause on the other end of the line is heavy.

“I was being an ass.”

“You’re always an ass.” You respond with a deep sigh.

“The locksmith won’t come till morning so…”

Despite your better judgment, you take pity on the poor man.

“Come over.” You concede, cringing at the implication of the phrase. Wonwoo is coming over because he’s locked out. Not for any other reason. He’s desperate and needs somewhere to crash until his landlord can let him in.

“…Thanks.”

The call ends.

Wonwoo knocks on the door twenty minutes later. You can’t believe what you see through the peephole. He’s soaked down to his skin, hair matted to his forehead despite the hood of his jacket. The chill of the hallway makes him shake like a leaf in a windstorm. When you finally open the door to face him, he’s somehow worse than he was through the glass.

If it was under any other circumstances the cling of the hoodie against his broad chest would stir something inside you. But Wonwoo has never looked so… pitiful.

“Oh my god,” You manage, choking on laughter.

“Are we just gonna stand here or can I come in?”

Shouldering open the door, you snicker as Wonwoo steps around. At least until he starts abandoning his wet clothes once inside.

“Wait, let me get some towels.”

Running to the bathroom, you snag whatever towels can be spared. You catch yourself in the mirror before exiting. Messy hair with an indent on your cheek from the crease of the pillow is the least of your problems. There's stain on the front of your sweater from the leftover pizza scarfed down for lunch and you aren’t wearing a bra.

It doesn’t matter considering Wonwoo looks like a drowned cat but you’re still self conscious. The best you can do is splash cold water on your face and remember he is worse off than you.

Wonwoo waits right where you left him by the door, dripping more water with each second. His bare chest glistens in the dim light. When he looks up from his phone you chuck a towel at his head.

“You can wait in the bathroom while I find some dry clothes.”

Wonwoo trudges behind as you lead him back the way you came.

Once again, he immediately unbuttons his pants without regard for your presence. Deft fingers make quick work. You remember where you are when he goes to force them down.

Wonwoo meets your eyes in the mirror, “Staying to watch?”

“I’m just gonna…” You mumble, looking anywhere but at the show he puts on.

The door latch clicks just as the heavy thuds of his soaked clothes land in the sink. Leaning against the opposite wall, your head gently rests against the cool surface. A deep sigh leaves your nose.

You’ve seen Wonwoo naked. Your hand was down his pants less than twenty four hours ago. A picture of your ass lives in his text messages for Christ sake. Seeing him shirtless and wet shouldn’t have you blushing like some virgin.

Ruminating on your momentary lapse of dignity will get you nowhere so you start hunting for the collection of Seungcheol’s clothes from the bottom drawer of your dresser. A few months ago the sight would have sent you to tears. Now, it’s comical. The fleeting memory of Lisa’s bewildered face when you choked down sobs after Amina threw out your ex’s toothbrush rears its head. Crazy how things can change so quickly from hurt to nothing.

You're in and out of the bathroom in a flash, collecting wet clothes in exchange for dry ones. Thankfully, Wonwoo doesn’t jest from behind the current.

While he continues to shower, you’re busy with making the couch habitable. Knowing you can’t deal with another of Wonwoo’s uncouth comments, the blanket you previously used is exchanged for the one draped on the armchair. Rather the blanket Mingyu and Lisa sullied than the one tainted by yourselves.

Wonwoo comes down the hallway just in time, toweling at his damp hair.

“Well, this is it.” You say, avoiding eye contact. “There's a charge plugged in near the TV you're welcome to use. Um, good night.”

“Gonna make me sleep all by myself?” He plops on the couch, arms crossed behind his head. Wonwoo’s too cocky for someone who looked like he drowned on dry land twenty minutes ago.

Wonwoo’s triumphant smirk doesn’t last when you plop a heavy knitted quilt over him. He scrambles free but you’re already halfway to your bedroom.

Scoffing, you respond,“What? Are you scared of the dark?”

“If that's the excuse you need to come over here, sure. I’m terrified.”

“Awww,” you coo sarcastically. “You’ll cope.”

In the confines of your room, you manage the first deep breath of the night. You won’t be able to sleep. Not with him so close. Not when temptation is just beyond the door and down the hallway.

How dare he ask you for a favor and then act like an ass. Of course, he’d use something so unfortunate to get his dick wet.

More steam pours from your ears as you ruminate. Pacing back and forth you scoff at his audacity until it boils over and you're stomping back into the living room.

“You know I’m doing you a favor by letting you stay here.” You fume, stopping a few feet away from where the biggest pain in your ass rests. “I could have let you go to Eva and Soonyoung’s and deal with their bullshit but I didn’t.”

Wonwoo lifts on one elbow, eying you silently.

Faltering under his gaze, you continue to ramble. “How dare you ask me for a favor and then act like a pig.”

“You’re right.”

“What?” You choke.

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo concedes.

You falter for a second in disbelief, mouth gaping over silent words. It couldn’t have been that easy.

“I shouldn’t have believed you giving me a handy meant more than it was.”

Huffing, you stop and turn back to your room. “You’re insufferable!”

“And yet, you still sent me a pic of your ass.” He snorts, collapsing back into his pillow. “Pick a lane, Y/N.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Flinging your hands in the air, you return back to your room to stew until morning.

“So that picture was all talk?” Wonwoo yells in your direction.

He wants a reaction and that's exactly what he gets. Pivoting, you storm back in front of the couch.

“Oh! I’m all talk? You’re the one who can’t even finish what he started.”

“And what did I start?” He sneers, sitting up.

You know what he’s doing. Attempting to rile you up until there's no choice but to give in. And it’s working. Wiping that stupid smirk on his face is as simple as swallowing his cock until he’s nothing more than a twitching mess. But if Wonwoo wants you, he’ll need to try harder than goading a response out of you.

Biting back you prod his chest, “Nothing worth my time, that's for damn sure.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asks, rising to his feet. “Didn’t seem that way last night.”

Chest to chest, he’s more intimidating but you won’t falter. Instead, you switch gears. Your finger skims dangerously close to the waistband of his pants.

“I’m a really, really good actress.”

A battle of wills ensues. Wonwoo stares you down, unflinching at your smirk. He’s pissed at the implication. It's clear in his body language; tense shoulders, shuddering breath.

Your fatal mistake comes when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips. The memory of what they felt like jolts an ache in your bones.

A tilt of his chin is all the invitation you need to drag his mouth to yours.

Wonwoo has you perched on his lap in an instant, legs splayed over his spread thighs and his hands pulling you forward. It's clumsy but eagerness blinds you both to anything beyond the powerful drag of your core hips against the tent in his pants.

Twisting a hand in the short hair at the base of Wonwoo’s neck, you tug hard enough to move him how you want. A throaty moan is the only response he gives, easily following your demands. But the way his large hands grab at the curve of your ass move you how he wants.

He groans into the curve of your shoulder with the next cant of your hips. “God, you’re so hot. Shit.”

Despite the chill that has creeped its way inside the apartment, you’re burning up; skin flushed and hot to touch. The hand not tangled in Wonwoo’s hair slips under his shirt, nails skating up the taunt muscles of his abdomen. His own hands echo the path, finding their way beneath your sweater.

Wonwoo lifts your sweater and swiftly drops it to the flooring, busying his hands with cradling the soft skin he’s uncovered. He leans away to break the kiss, but you manage to drag him back.

“W-Wonwoo, fuck,” you curse, clinging tighter when he breaks the contact and drops his mouth to your chest.

His teeth scrape against your collarbone, leaving you dizzy and desperate. Head in the clouds, you fold and bend as he tortures your breasts. The rough pad of his thumb leaves goosebumps in its wake, skating across your nipple until it pebbles. One reflex you twist the fist of his hair harshly when he pinches and are rewarded with a moan and rush of his cock into your covered cunt.

A hot trail of sloppy kisses sends your heart into a tailspin. Wonwoo must feel it with the way he licks and sucks your nipple; pulling until it pops out of his mouth before he leans back to repeat the motion once more.

Eventually, Wonwoo’s borrowed sweatshirt is abandoned on the floor as well but neither of you find the rush present from your previous romp. You follow when Wonwoo leans back, flat against his chest.

Hazy fatigue swells around the edges. The feeling of skin on skin, lips on lips, and roaming hands brings everything to a calming lull. Without the fog of alcohol or the threat of nosey friends, you explore each other with feather light touches that turn into gentle gropes, and hot wet kisses that transform into drags of teeth and lips. From shared exhaustion, running on nothing less than minutes of sleep and a near lethal dose of caffeine, you sluggish trapeze through the motions.

Taking advantage of the moment, you discover exactly what Wonwoo likes. When you rake a hand through his hair, nails pulling through the damp locks to scratch against his scalp, then Wonwoo shudders and sucks at your chest with more enthusiasm than before. He likes when you bite him, his hips rutting up harshly with each nip at his throat.

Each breathy sigh you release spurs him on. Melting into a needy mess, you can’t find an ounce of embarrassment; even as Wonwoo massages your cunt through your sweatpants and pathetic whimper after pathetic whimper pours from your throat.

Having his focus on you makes you crave him more. A never ending cycle of want.

“Please,” you beg. The second the word is out of your mouth, Wonwoo is ushering you towards your room.

You trip through the living room with Wonwoo’s mouth still latched to your chest. Pinned between the back of the couch and his body, he sucks until your shoulders cave and you force him from his hiding place.

“What?” he smirks into your jaw. “What do you want?” His hand sneaks its way under your pants, squeezing a palm full of your bare ass before slipping down further. “Fuck, you’re so wet.” He nips at your chin, fingers dipping into your entrance. “So messy for me.”

Your hands scramble for something to comfort from the onslaught. Wonwoo is already back between your breasts, humming around the flesh every time you shudder from his ministrations. He twists his fingers into your core, the noise loud despite the cover of your pants.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you rasps under the prod of his thumb against your clit. Rather than succumbing to the mind numbing assault, you jolt into action.

Wonwoo angles his hips just right when he realizes your aim. It’s too easy to force your hand under the fabric and find him hard and waiting just like last night. But unlike last night, you don’t have to hide. And the freedom dooms him from the start.

Anchoring one hand on his chest, you push until he’s upright. He’s a wreck; eyes half shut behind the lens of his glass and lips a delectable shade of red. You pull your hand out of his pants and lap away the evidence of his arousal, delighting in the way a vein on his neck jumps when you give them a lewd suck.

Turning, you saunter down the hallway, shedding the rest of your clothes as you go.

“Coming?” you call over your shoulder, pinning Wonwoo in place as you bend to slip off your sweatpants, flashing him the barest peak of your cunt, before continuing to your room.

You don’t hear him following until you're at the threshold. A rush of footsteps and then he’s emerging from the darkness, eyes taking in your naked form. Wonwoo looks like he’s been starving and you’re the first meals he’s about to have in years.

Wonwoo pins you to the wooden door, one hand finding your jaw while the other bats your legs wide before roughly swiping at your sensitive clit.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he rasps into your ear.

Two fingers tap against your lips. Without hesitation you present your tongue, lapping the digits like you would his cock. Wonwoo watches with so much heat in his gaze you can’t stop a moan from slipping free when he puts pressure on your tongue and causes you to drool. He makes to pull away but stops when you grab his wrist and force him in place.

You suck his fingers deeper, eyes never leaving his the entire time. The pressure against the inside of your cheek leaves you reeling. Pure desire inks your brain and makes you desperate.

Both unsatisfied, you let Wonwoo go. He’s quicker than you imagined. A force full grab of your jaw tugs you away from the door and into his mouth. The slide of his tongue against your own verges on pornographic but you're too busy focusing on the same fingers you’d just been sucking on splitting your folds before stretching your walls.

Slowly falling to his knees, Wonwoo shoulders under your leg until your pussy is splayed for him to enjoy. The trail of hot kisses across your hip do nothing to comfort you. Not with the swift pace of his hand.

“Are you gonna do something or just stare all night?”

The strip he licks up your core, tongue flat and heavy, makes you double over. Wonwoo remembers exactly what buttons to push to shut you up, overwhelming you with his mouth and hand buried in your cunt along with the hand continuing to tweak your nipples.

“Fuck,” you mewl. “You can do—shit—better than that.”

The raze of his teeth on your clit is punishment enough for the outburst. But Wonwoo loves to prove a point. His pace becomes slower than ever, still hard but the tempo of his hand is reserved. It makes you hot all over. Choking on air, your brain melts and bones jelly under the lashing of Wonwoo’s tongue.

Just as he finds the perfect angle, he falls back.

You snap. “What the fuck?”

He doesn’t answer. Wonwoo pulls away his hand and rises to his feet. Once nose to nose, he smiles. The sudden change is disorienting. Even more so when he leaves a gentle peck against your cheek and heads for the bed.

Perching on the bed, he leans pack on to his palms and presents his lap like a throne. “Come here,” he commands.

Scrabbling into his lap, Wonwoo catches you off guard. His hands strike across your waist as he leans back, shuffling you up his chest until your knelt over his face.

Your hands steady on your thighs, brushing his. In an uncharacteristic act of sweetness, he tangles his fingers with your own.

The gesture leaves you reeling. “Wonwoo?”

His hands curl around your thighs and force you down onto his waiting tongue. There's no build up, only hunger. Wonwoo points his tongue and uses it to trace hard circles around your clit before suck so harshly you buckle in half.

If Wonwoo minds he makes no show of it. Instead, he pins your tangled hands in place and licks deeper, tracing anywhere he can reach. Every muscle in your body jerks from the sloppy way he eats you out.

Sweat blooms on your skin. Each breath stilted and you’re drooling when cracks open an eye to take him in. The flex of his biceps when you lurches against a vulgar suck of his mouth. Even the mop of his hair buried between your thighs makes you whimper.

One hand leaves your, reaching around and pinching your ass punitively.

“Work for it,” he hums into your pussy.

Not needing to be told twice, you rock where your bodies meet. Your free hand tangles in his hair and uses the leverage to grind against his tongue. Wonwoo’s hand continues to follow the curve of your ass until he’s able to tease your entrance.

Foul noises radiate from where he works you, from his hand and your mouth. Spit and arousal smear on his cheeks and you can feel it against your thighs bracketing his head.

You want to see his face. The heat in his eyes when he’s focused on something, focused on you, making you cum. You pull Wonwoo’s hair again.

“Focus,” His muffled voice is thick and broken, like he’s getting off just as much as you are.

Whining from the vibration against your clit, tears threaten to fall from how tight you pinches your eyes shut from the onslaught.

“Wonwoo, I’m—” you sob. “Please, fuck. Please, I’m gonna cum.”

The world holds its breath. And then it shatters into a million pieces.

You’re whole and not. No more than a supernova. Whine after whine claws its way out of your lungs until you choke on them.

Wonwoo pays no mind, continuing to work you until you try and fall away. But he expects it, moving with you and staying between your thighs like you haven’t cum at all.

“Too much,” you gasp when he spits on your ruined cunt.

Flashing the pink of his tongue, he sneers your own words back with acidic sweetness. “You can do better than that.”

Tossing your legs over his shoulders, he digs in again.

It hurts. Wonwoo isn’t easing you into a second orgasm. If anything, he’s bullying it out of you.

And you take it.

“I can’t,” you plead, dipping your chin to meet his eyes and beg your case. “Too much, Woo. I—”

Wonwoo leans back and slows the three fingers buried inside you. The hand pressed to your stomach rises to cup your face, his thumb tracing the bow of your lips.

“You can.” He coos. His thumb slips into your mouth a second before he spits on your clit and uses his soiled hand to slap.

The scream ripping its way out is silenced by the digit in your mouth. Wonwoo dives back in, taking zero mercy. Your hips buck into his mouth involuntarily and the bastard laughs.

“See? You want it so bad, don’t you baby?”

His thumb pops from your mouth but not before you manage a quick nip. The look on Wonwoo’s face tells you it was the wrong answer to his question.

Your breath falters when the faintest amount of pressure ghosts along your throat, waiting for your okay before committing.

Spreading your legs wider and tucking your hands behind your knees, you nod, “I want it.”

Pupils blown wide, Wonwoo goes rigid before exploding into a frenzy.

He sucks your folds into his mouth, hastily laving you in his spit before forcing another finger inside your tight hole.

“C’mon, you can do it for me. Give me one more.” He demands while coming up for a breath. “Such a fucking mess for me.”

Your hips snap harshly, nails digging into his wrist resting on your chest. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

Feet planting onto the mattress, you rock against his face with more force than before. A cacophony of vulgar squelches and desperate whines fill the room. He squeezes until stars dot your vision from the lack of blood flow only to release with a rush of lightheaded bliss. Using your hands to tug at your sore nipples, you finally give Wonwoo what he wants.

“W-Wonwoo, so good.” You pant.

He cleans up the mess the same way he made it but with a gentler touch. It doesn’t stop the quivers of overstimulation from wrecking your nerves but he whispers an apology for each one and rubs it into the crease of your thigh when you wince.

With a final peck to your clit, he releases you.

Wonwoo’s chest heaves, eyes drooping in lust or fatigue, you don’t know. Maybe both. When he rises from his spot between your legs, you scramble for his face. Mouths meet in a slow kiss, nothing more than a languid press against one another and a few deep breaths. You taste yourself but ignore it. You’re too tired, too sated, to care.

You try and palm his cock, eager to return the favor but Wonwoo shifts away. He crowds you up to the pillows, pulls you into his chest, and sends you off to sleep with his lips against your forehead.

You simply lay there, curled around one another until sleep claims you.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho @kyeomofhearts @beananacake

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #svthub #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt fanfic #svt smut #🫡 highvern

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clementine-thedestroyer · 1 year ago

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Miguel O’Hara x reader - Sew cute

Warnings/tags: Miguel getting lowkey horny over his girlfriend knowing how to sew. Also, mentions of marriage.

Part two

I have this head cannon of rich bf Miguel finding his girlfriend’s hobbies adorable and taking every possible opportunity to fule her passion- I might make this a loosely related series, where it’d be the same concept but different hobbies.

I’m so sorry for the pun as the title.

It all started when a line of stitching on your pants began to loosen. The top stitching under the fly, specifically.

You complained offhandedly about it to Miguel, leaning against his side and pouting slightly as you whined about your favorite pair of pants starting to give out. Miguel chuckled softly at your dramatics, scrolling through his phone with one hand and rubbing your shoulder sympathetically with his other, eventually pressing a kiss to your forehead and promising to buy you a new pair next time you two went shopping.

Except, he never gets a chance. Because the next night, he comes home to the sight of you hunched over on the couch, your tongue bitten in concentration as a movie you’re not paying attention too plays on the TV, your head turned to something in your lap instead.

Miguel can’t help his curiosity- coming up behind you and peaking over your shoulder.

Looking down, he sees what you’re focused so intensely on, and it catches him off guard.

You held a thread and needle in one hand and what he assumed to be your pants in the other, carefully sewing a line of stitching into the fabric. Except, you weren’t working on your pants- your pants were sitting to the side of you- the stitching already repaired. Now, you had one of Miguel’s shirts- one he recognized as one he had planned on getting rid of because of a seam coming undone.

“¿Qué haces?” Miguel asks, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing loving circles into the tense muscles as watched you work.

You can’t help but shudder as Miguel’s fingers dig into your back, easing the pain from sitting hunched over for so long. You try to keep the shakiness out of your voice as you look up at him to answer his question.

“I’m fixing my pants. The ones that were coming apart- I told you about that yesterday, remember?”

“Love, that’s my shirt. Not your pants.”

“O-oh yeah.” You felt yourself flush in embarrassment, looking back down at the shirt you had stolen from Miguel. “Well- yeah- I finished the pants earlier. Then I found this shirt in with the rest of the clothes while I was putting away laundry. I-I hope you don’t mind that I’m fixing it-”

Miguel smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of your head as he continued rubbing your shoulders. “Of course I don’t mind. But, I’m more than happy to buy us both new clothes. You don’t need to worry about pinching pennies.”

You turn to him, a grin spread across your still warm cheeks as you respond. “Miguel, there’s no reason to replace something so easy to repair! Plus, I’m enjoying myself!”

Miguel nodded, looking down to admire the stitching you had done on the shirt so far. “Hm… I didn’t know you could sew, mi amor.”

“It’s not exactly hard, just moving the needle through the fabric, you know? I haven’t done it in a good while, I forgot how much I liked doing this kinda stuff.”

Miguel was enamored by this new revelation. Before this, he had always seen sewing as more of an old person thing, but he couldn’t deny the warm, fuzzy feeling of domesticity he got from watching you lay in his lap as you delicately maneuvered the needle and thread through the torn fabric of his shirt. He couldn’t help but feel a hint of pride at the sight, it was like you were his little house wife.

Or…house girlfriend? Because he hasn’t married you yet…. But that’s really just a technicality. You’re his house wife, Miguel has decided it.

The next morning, when you handed him the repaired shirt with a proud grin, Miguel couldn’t help but feel treasured and loved from the simple gesture. Before this, Miguel would never have considered wearing something that had ripped them been repaired. He had the money to replace things, so why wouldn’t he? But from that day on, that shirt became his favorite, and he wore it every chance he had.

After that, Miguel started coming home with little handicraft and embroidery kits for you. Whenever he’d get see a kit he knew you’d like- maybe it had your favorite animal or something- he’d toss it in the cart and save it for a rainy day, whether that be a metaphorical or literal one.

And it all stayed like that for a while: Miguel bringing you small hand sewing and embroidery kits, you lighting up and getting started on them right away- usually spending the rest of the night on the couch next to Miguel with a movie or show on in the background.

Until one of your friends asked that you sign up for a sewing workshop with them. It was a relatively basic class, held at one of the local chain fabric/craft stores, but you had agreed to go, mostly for your friends sake.

The workshop was fun. You learned a bit about sewing machine tension and using patterns, and the sewing project given was simple and doable within the time period.

You didn’t realize that Miguel had come early, or that he was standing in the doorway of the classroom, watching you sew with a smile. He would deny it if you asked him, but he had arrived early on purpose to watch the last few minutes of the class. He had assumed the class was hand sewing, like everything else he had seen you do up till that point, and he was surprised to see you hunched over a sewing machine instead of your usual needle and thread.

It was like the first time he saw you sewing all over again: he was fucking smitten, and was going to make you his wife. That was all he could think about, because god help him, you already looked and acted the part.

Miguel was mesmerized by how focused you were as you moved the fabric through the machine. The way you bit your lip and furrowed your brow in concentration- it was precious, and Miguel wanted nothing more than to melt at how domestic you seemed while doing it.

And when you finished and came up to him? With a wide grin as you proudly presented the stuffed animal you had made during the workshop, insisting that you made it for him? His heart melted, right then and there. He squeezed that stuffed animal so tight and looked down at you with so much love, you were half worried he’d either pounce on you or make the poor stuffed animal’s head pop off (which Miguel might have cried about, at this point).

After the workshop, Miguel didn’t take you home. You and him stayed at the fabric store, him loading your arms up with fabric, patterns, and whatever else he decided you needed. “You like this one? No? You don’t? Well I think it’s just a good basic- like a black shirt, so we should just get it anyways.”

Oh god. And then he found the baby clothes patterns. You could’ve sworn you spent hours at that craft store.

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javiersprincess · 8 months ago

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tags: 18+ minors dni / fem reader / fingering / reader is mexican / spanish / religious imagery / aftercare / hinted virginity loss / penetration /2.6k/ pwp - let me know if i miss something.

synopsis: javier escuella feels an all encompassing desire to have you. you feel it too, maybe even more.

Javier laughs into your lips, you are kissing him with the reverence of the faithful. You kiss sweetly, gently with the undercut of hunger he is all too happy to sate. Your form is soft beneath his hands, flesh pillabe like the strings on his guitar and the trigger of his revolver - the hollow of his palms filled with the curve of your hips. Javier nips at your lip until he can hear you hiss from the sting among your sighs from the pleasure of having him suck on your tongue.

“I can’t believe you - all I did was kiss you,” he stops to puff a breathe against your lips snickering at the dazed look on your face and the glistening spit on your lips, “and now you’re letting me fuck you.”

You whine, high and embarrassed but so unbearably needy and pressing yourself up against him like a cat in heat. There’s a little gold necklace threaded along the slopes of your collar - it glints against your untouched and unblemished skin like a comet, looping along your form in a circle until completion where it stays in perpetual orbit. Javier doesn’t know if he should be jealous of the thin necklace or not.

Your nightgown is off, spread out on the ground and Javier’s eyes are caught on the pendant that holds the face of La Virgen that glints in the lowlight of his tent - his eyes meet hers and he feels a shiver against his spine. Of course she would be there, looped above your too-good heart and appearing before him. It almost pains him to touch you, the holiness of your skin burning his palms that are too greedy to stay away.

You gasp his name and it brings him back to you - it brings his lips to your chest and you sigh as your hands twist on the fabric of his shirt clad shoulders like you are scared to touch him. You still have your bloomers, the white cotton stark against his tan hands and he presses another kiss right above your heart as it stutters tucked away in your ribs.

“Esta bien hermosa - you can touch me.” The pet name makes you tremble, whining when the word graces your flushed ears. Hermosa, meaning beautiful or gorgeous in the language your mother would sing you to when you were a girl. Your nostalgia brings desperation and it only serves to make you needier, wanting for more of the man above you like how priests desire the light of God. You think of that ill-stricken Reverend that wanders this camp and something aches in your chest as you let your hands go over the curve of his shoulders and anchor yourself there. Teeth aching with each suck on your tongue you don’t notice it when your bloomers are off until the brisk cool night breeze dances on your bare thighs. The skin there is hot and growing more so when he lets his hands settle on the smooth skin.

It’s almost comical how perfectly you fit in his roughed hands, his callouses from his knife so seamlessly accepted by the plush of your thighs. Like the velvet cushions rich men sit in their gilded train cars and golden stagecoaches. You go from velvet to wet silk with simple touches and you moan something sweetly into his ear as his face goes to your chest and his hands in between your thighs. The backs of his knuckles tease the wetness of your slick that leaks like honey and Javier lets his lips kiss the bud of your nipple softly but not without letting his teeth have their own kiss at the edge to make you whine.

“You are so wet, leaking for me - you’ll make a mess on my pants mi amor.” His teasing is endless and you can hear that smile you see whenever you blink. You jumble out a half-assed apology and it makes Javier laugh at you again. He must have you in quite the state if it’s making your perfectly trained manners fall off like wool when faced with sheep shears. His fingers have made their way to where you are the most needy - letting them pet along the slit and cup at your mound. You moan his name, oh so, softly when he squeezes gently, cradling your most delicate part the same way he cradles the neck of his guitar.

“Javi - please, please.” The shortened version of his name makes him grin, shivering pleasantly at how affection given only to him melts into his ears like syrup.

“Ya se, ya se. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you tonight.” Dark eyes are wicked at how they glint in the low orange light of his tent as he lets one finger slip in. He reclines himself back so he can watch how you take him.

Javier does not profess how he would take care of you every night for the rest of the nights you have in your life.

You whine thinly into the air, and it makes him hiss at how tight you are around his one finger.

“Relax, chiquita - I can’t take care of you when you’re all tense like this. Shh, shh,” he murmurs to you and in return you whine with a nod; pliable and sweet for him as you let your legs shuffle more open, working on letting him in and letting him deeper. One finger turns to two, and they curl into you cruelly without respite for how you weep and sniffle at the pleasure he tugs from you like music from his guitar strings. Your mouth is hanging open, drool shining on your lips as you let out thin little sounds.

You feel full, and pleasure dances along your spine as his thumb plays with the glimmering pearl of your clit. You whine - no sing his name like gospel and it makes something inside his stomach preen like a peacock.

Javier is dedicated, giving you an even pace and deep curls of his fingers to make you soft and loose for him. Dark brown eyes watch you with the precision of a predator - eagerly taking in how sweat drips down the middle of your breasts and how your jaw drops to make out little pants of his name just for him to hear. His fingers do just enough to bring you to the edge, and you stutter over your words as you push at his wrist with the desperation that is unbecoming of you. Etiquette and education are long gone from your mind as you beg him with an addled mind.

“Please, please not - not like that,” you stutter and let out soft little moans in between each word as Javier remains unmoved; letting his fingers stay inside you at their same pace, dark brown eyes taking in how even this almost makes you weep in pleasure. His cock stirs in his jeans at how it will be when he’s inside of you, filling you well beyond anything you’ve ever had.

“No, like this - it will hurt if you don’t cum now.” He mutters, voice thick with lust as he watches your hips twitch and jump when you have begun to hit the highest peak of your pleasure. Your body is eager for his fingers, tightening and fluttering around them as you leak down to his palm. Javier goes to shush you but you’re a good girl he realizes, watching you with a grin at how your hands shoot up to your mouth to muffle your long winded whines when you crash and cum for him. His voice is soft, reassuring you as you ride out your pleasure with the trembling of your hips and the quickened rising falls of your chest.

“Just like that - like that. There you go, there you go. Cum for me, give me this one and I’ll give you another.” He promises you, his accent thick as he watches your eyes go dark and unfocused as you burn with hot desire for him until he hears your broken voice mumble; “There’s more?”

He laughs. Teasingly, adoringly, lovingly and so many other words he can’t quite say.

“Si mi vida, there is always more with me. That I can promise you.”

Again, he laughs at the way he feels you twitch around his fingers that have stilled inside at the prospect of what more entails. He won’t admit to how his cock twitches in time with you tucked away in his pants.

You whine at the idea, hot at the image of being filled with all of him and whine again when his fingers slip out of you. Gossamer strands of your cum follow them, only to break and splatter along the inside of your flushed thighs. Javier smiles the same charming smile as when he sings and soothes you by rubbing your thigh with one hand while the other goes to undo his belt buckle.

You don’t see the length of him, only feel the heat of him against the petals of your cunt and it’s enough for you to yelp like some poor animal caught in a trap. Javier is bent over you, the build of his slim body covering you with his elbow supporting him above your head, eyes attuned to the half lit scene before him. You, sweating enough to make strands of your hair stick your flushed face with your eyes half lidded and mouth parted. His hips move without him thinking, coating his length in your glimmering release and rubbing against your still sensitive clit that it makes you flinch - mewling his name in a wet and defeated tone that makes him huff in half fondness-half teasing.

“Javi-” you whine, hotter than you have ever been and voice cracking when the head of his cock brushes past your entrance and makes its way in. You gasp into his mouth, one hand coming to cover your eyes and the other gripping at the fabric of his shoulder. Javier sighs against your lips and kisses you to muffle his own noises - higher pitched than he’d like to admit they are lost in between your two mouths as you take another inch of him. He is long, he knows this and you are tight ; tighter than anyone else he’s ever been with due to your lack of experience so he is slow with you despite how he wants to devour you entirely with one stroke.

Javier is tactical when he wants to be and is more than practical when he has to be so he controls himself, letting you have him inch by torturous inch. You are panting, throwing your head back in a way that lets him catch the tears that make it down your cheek and are uncovered by your hand. With one hand he bats away yours until your face - glistening and flushed is revealed to him as your mouth shines with drool from pleasure. His thumb goes to wipe away a tear and you move to feel the warmth of him more closely.

“Why are you crying hermosa, hm?” He asks you, sighing at how you take more of him so sweetly. You don’t respond only squealing and squeezing around him as you lose more of yourself on his cock. Half of him is seated inside you, enough for you to moan his name brokenly as you beg for more despite you wincing when he moves. Javier grunts and stops, letting the half of him that’s inside you stay still to let you breathe

“You can,” you pant, “you can put the whole thing in - please, please put it in.” You beg, and a thrill goes up his spine at the idea of seeing you weep from his cock being too much runs across his mind before he pushes it to the side. You are far too sweet, too delicate to be treated so roughly by him. You aren’t a working girl he can forget about come morning but the woman he wants to wake up to, which is why it’s easy for him to do what he thinks to be best.

He denies you.

“No, this is -” he sighs deeply at the way you feel around him - slick and wet and wanting for him to give you more until it aches. “This is enough. You’ll take the rest next time.” You whine at the thought and whine again when he pulls his slim hips back to fuck you like that. He gives you slow, careful thrusts with the hand that cradles your face sneaking down to rub at your pulsing clit with gentle precision. It’s almost too much for you, he notes and he feels bad that the sight of you weeping on half his cock, losing your mind with your eyes glassy from tears is doing it more for him than anything else.

You’ve always been a proper girl, ever since he saw you on your horse in the snow of Colter looking at him with the sweetest eyes framed by snowflakes. There’s a sick pleasure tugging at his stomach at how he has you now, manners gone and all you are now is debauched and drunk on him. It’s almost enough to make him finish and clearly it’s enough to get you there too by the way you weep out the little nickname you gave him.

“Javi, Javi, ’m going to -” He cuts you off with a punched out exhale, grinding his molders to keep from cumming inside by how you keep tightening around him like a vice.

“Go let go for me, mi amor - you’ve been so good.” With that you break, voice so ruined it cracks when you whine out babbles of precious thank yous in his ear as you come to completion a second and last time for the night. It’s painful, the last drag he gets of your cunt before he tugs at his sticky and slick cock to shoot his spend against the mound of your cunt. The sight of him dripping down to your twitching lower half more than makes up for it and he is more than willing to bend back over you to press gentle kiss after kiss on your panting lips. Your eyes had fluttered close and you babbled mindlessly under his gentle touches as you slowly came back down to look up at him with blearily eyes. Javier smiles at you with all the tenderness of the world when you wrap your arms around his neck - he manages to settle on his side with you in his arms and you tuck your face into his neck. You nuzzle the skin and sight softly, eyes red and half lidded tired from all he has pulled for you. Javier is soft with you, spoiling you by letting his nails scratch your scalp the way you like.

“Rest mi vida, I’ll clean you up.” he murmurs into your hair, presses a kiss to the crown of your head. You hum, murmur his name and a soft little confession of love before your eyes slip shut. You shiver when the soft fabric of a pocket square wipes at the mess of your swollen cunt and whine when you are moved to have your nightgown pulled over your head. Through your fussing Javier remains gentle, whispering praise as he settles you to his chest to sleep. When you awake you’ll be faced with teasing you thought you were quiet enough to avoid but that can wait. Now your eyes are heavy and Javier’s heartbeat is soothing - anything else can wait as for now you want for nothing else.

#lamb.writes #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella smut #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption x reader #rdr2 smut

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toomanythoughts4myhead · 11 months ago

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Woven from the same thread

[Part 2] [Masterlist]

Summary: Coriolanus Snow hungers for control, what will happen when he gives up it up for his own good? What will happen when he finaly meets his match?

Pairing: Sub!Coriolanus Snow x Dom!reader

Warnings: gaslight, gatekeeper, girl boss; dumbification; Coriolanus Snow, mentioned of death and bombings, manipulations.

A/N: purely an excuse to write for submissive Coriolanus. I love me a controlling obsessive man, but I love him more on his knees crying.

Coriolanus Snow who decided getting a cute rich girlfriend would help him in life. He wouldn't love her, he'd discard her immediately the moment he managed to get into university with the plinth prize or if he simply found someone better.

Coriolanus Snow who saw you and your sweet smile and charming innocent eyes and decided that you were going to be his personal piggy bank.

Coriolanus Snow who tries charming you with pretty words and gentlemanly actions, providing as much as he can muster with his unexistable budget. An occasional white rose or a pretty origami would be thrown your way, but that's as far as he could afford to go.

Coriolanus Snow who realizes too late you are a snake like him.

Coriolanus Snow who gapes in horror at you in your lavish room at your parent's penthouse after you reveal it all to him. Telling him how you saw his thinning frame and hollow cheeks, the acidy breath from hunger and the lack of presents or money spent on you had given him away. It was all a hypothesis but his reacting confirmed it.

Coriolanus Snow who is frozen in place, his deepest fear of getting closer to someone and having them find out of his poverty hidden in plain sight made his pale skin loose all semblence of color.

Coriolanus Snow who is on the verge of dropping on his knees and begging(he should) but you run a hand along his jaw and propose a deal. He is the smartest boy in the Academy, presentable and well mannered, he will continue to be your boyfriend and you will keep your mouth shut and wallet open for him as long as he plays by your whistle. It was left unspoken that if he stepped out of line you would air his dirty laundry with no hesitation.

Coriolanus Snow who becomes your personal dog, no matter how much he hates it. You wrote him a check to buy his family some food and pay his rent, as a starting sum, with one of your credit cards.

Having a pretty smart boyfriend was a dream come true for you. Having said boy and holding an unimaginable power over his every move was all you ever wanted. You and him shared the same poison, the same thirst for power, you knew that. But he hadn't, and that is what brought him to his demise.

He lost the battle. He lost the war.

Coriolanus Snow who does all the stereotypical "perfect boyfriend" things. He carries your books, opens the doors for you, pulls your chair out, kisses your forehead sweetly and holds your hand. He was perfect, at performing in public at least. Behind closed doors he still had his bite, no matter how good he could act his ego got the best of him.

You would break him soon enough

You started it small.

Phase 1:

Giving him small commands first in public, where he couldn't let his bravado fall. Telling him to wait for you, to not move, to lift that, do that, etc. Later you did it when there were people of your age or older around. Clearly showing off the power you had over Coriolanus, he had to obey you, his families apartment depended on it. He wanted to snap and not do it, to show he is in fact his own master, but how will he explain to granma' am and Tigris that they had to live on the street because his girlfriend/sugar mommy was too bossy?

Coriolanus Snow who was left to marinate in his own embarrassment in silence, feeling all eyes on him as people's perception of him change. From a proud heir to one of the most important business for the Capitol to a lovesick boyfriend who was his girlfriends servant, with a smile on his face worst of all. He was starting to get used to it. This had been going on for months now, the habit was starting to get rooted deeply.

Phase 2:

It was still a small jump but you started to give him shorter orders, one word commands, expecting him to know what to do- and he did. You'd say "open" and any door would be trust wide open and held for you. You'd say "hold" and thrust whatever you are holding to him without a spare glance. Maybe in the past he would have thrown the expensive purse or books while looking you dead in the eyes like a statement but now he simply waited for you patiently.

Coriolanus Snow who actually threw your books in a fit of rage once and ended up penniless for a month. He had to come to your house timidly after receiving no calls on the private phone you had bought him and no reply as he blew up your line.(he could only call your number and couldn't add or remove it. who else did he need to contact?)

Coriolanus who had to face greater humiliation than what he was used to, as he walked across the private party thrown by your parents, looking for you. The pitiful looks he got wobbling around in his academy uniform, even outside school as he asked around for you. People must have seen him as a kicked puppy, looking for his owner. It wasn't completely false.

Coriolanus Snow who found you in a secret room pointed to him by your mother who had cooed at him pitifully, used to seeing him waddle after you almost daily. You were sitting on large chair behind a wooden desk, looking over some documents. Your gaze snapped to him as he entereed, the faint yellow light from the lamp illuminated his face and made the miserable look in his eyes and blush in his cheeks ever more evident.

He had gotten to eat so good, first class meals, you'd even send a private chef over to his house to cook for him when he was especially good. He had gotten greedy and now going back to slurping bean juice felt unimaginable.

"Your rent is looking ever the higher. Its not looking good."

He hadn't(didnt) want to think about this as he slept on a cold matress, their heating had run out. He missed the taste of luxury. He would do anything to get it back.

"I made a mistake, y/n."

He knew he should do more. He knew you'd like to see him beg and squirm but he didn't think he could handle any more of this if he did. He had felt so much pressure, so such stress to find some food, to worry about rent, to hide the eyebags under his eyes, the humiliation from tonight was almost too much.

"Come here, Coriolanus."

Your voice rang out cold and commanding, but never demanding. You had too much power over him to demand. You pulled the chair back and it's wheels creaked, you put a hand on your thigh in a wordless command. Coriolanus wobbled a bit shakily, trying to maintain some form of dignity as he walked to you. He came to a halt between your legs, looking down at you and creating a shadow over your form. It should have made him feel better, to be in one way on top, but it didn't, he couldn't delude himself anymore, he knew he had no control.

What had you done to him?

"Kneel"

It took him a few seconds but he dropped slowly to his knees, one leg at a time until he was at eyelevel with your knees, sitting on his hinges, since he knew he'd be down here for a while. He stared stubbornly into your eyes, his pale blue eyes shone almost angelically paired with his pink lips. Your pretty puppy, it almsot made you smile. It almost made you forgive him, almost.

"You disobeyed me, Coriolanus. I told you there would be consequences."

"I know, y/n, i know, i wont do it again. I promise."

"I dont believe you."

You say and pick the document you had been reviewing before. You bring them close enough so he can read them too. They were charts and documents of increasing rent money for the apartment building his penthouse was in, the wages of the workers where Tigris worked, a paper with the retirement money his grandma got, paper with the money the country gave him as a compensation since he had lost both of his parents. All the money that his family got and had to spend.

Coriolanus who skims the papers but even the breif look of the numbers told him what he already knew.

He had no future without you. The Hunger games had gotten canceled this year since the death of Felix, the presidents son, the Plinth prize had gotten withdrawn. He had nothing, he could do nothing.

"I gave you everything, Coriolanus. Was your pride worth your future?"

He feels his gaze get hazy, the panic was starting to set in. He had come here to get you back, sure that he would be able to do it, but now he could almost taste your rejection. He was starting to get scared and panicked. He needed you.

"It wasnt- it isnt. Y/n, I made a mistake, plase forgive me. I wont do it again."

He shuffles closer to you subconsciously, looking up at you as his voice grew hoarse. His pride long gone, thrown out the moment he saw the consequences. You place a soft hand on his hair, gripping it gently and he feels the golden ring on your finger, the one with your family's crest made from pure gold, rest heavily on his scalp. You tilt his face up to look at you.

"Beg. Show me how sorry you are."

His mouth opened immediately, no hesitation to beg for you. Maybe he should feel shame to be thrust into this position but all he felt was hope. If you were willing to hear him out it means there is some chance he could get you back.

"Im sorry, y/n, im so sorry. I was stupid, i was greedy, i was arrogant. I wont do it again. Im yours, please"

He hadn't realized he had started crying until his tears pooled and fell, warm and salty, against his lips and on the material of the chair, his long blond lashes clump togetger and his lips redden, the tear streaks down his cheeks and neck glisten in the light and he looks like a painting.

You decide you like him like this best, begging at your feet and crying for your love.

You coo at him sympatheticly even as a smile tugs the corners of your lips. You caress his beautiful locks of hair and wipe his tears away only to lick your fingers.

"My poor baby, no need to cry. Im here now, you remembered where you belong, its okay now, you are okay now."

His breath grows labored and his face twists in pain as more tears follow, he burries his face into the bare skin of your inner thighs and sobs loudly. All the stress had caught up with him. The responsibilities, the fear, the hunger, the thought that he'd lose his anchor, the thought he'd lose you.

Your guidance, your attention, your love. He didn't need to worry anymore, he didn't need to fret and plot to stay at the top, simply being known as your lover was enough. You were the second richest family in Panem, after the President. Coriolanus held much more power than he ever had on his own. People respected him more and he got the cushiony life he had always dreamt of.

He was safe.

His family was safe.

You let him cry, cooing calming words of reassurance as you caress the nape of his neck and the curls of his hair. His big shaky hands envelope your thighs and he holds onto them for dear life.

You knew he would come crawling back once he saw that you meant business and weren't bluffing. It had taken him longer and you respect his resilience but he had funaly come to his senses and back into your arms. A part of you felt a pang of empathy for him, for the poor boy underneath all the masks and facades he had on to survive in this world. You knew when it came down to it he would have murdered him, to remain the shell of the person he is. You don't feel bad for Snow. You felt bad for Coriolanus.

Poor, caring, driven Coriolanus, who might have been good if not for the poison and hunger and fear he had been forced to shoulder.

But you are here now, so he wouldn't have to worry anymore. He can be good. You'll make sure he is your good boy.

Phase 0:

Coriolanus is a smart boy, he probably could predict all the steps of manipulation you had come up with, what he probably hadn't anticipated were the rewards. The additional money, delicious food, new clothes, you'd even found a better job for Tigris (not good enough to pay for the rent ofc). The small touches you'd offered him and the lack of discrimination against his poverty. You'd treated him good and given him a lot.

How could a boy who's only had things taken from him begin to expect anything else? The mentality of take or lose had kept him alive this long, but maybe you wanted to give. He had shared with you in a night of vulnerabilities about his family. How his mother and unborn sister died, hiw his father died, how he was left with only his grandma and Tigris almost broke to survive.

Coriolanus had a lot of potential to be your loyalest dog or biggest enemy depending on how you let him flourish.

That's why you had bought him a phone to call only you, made him dependant only on you, talked with your parents and together you'd managed to cancel the Hunger games, throwing all the district tributes back in their homes, far far away. Especially Lucy Gray, the songbird who was on her way to charm Coriolanus. How you'd agreed the money from the plinth prize should be used on fixing the damage done by the rebelion bombings.

Coriolanus wasn't a good person.

You were simply better at being bad.

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short-honey-badger · 6 months ago

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Kelp? No, Hello!

This has come from a little brainstorming session with my darling @goth-mami-writer. Enjoy a little JJK soul mate fic. We've decided to do our own takes on this, so I hope you enjoy! I'll have her works tagged below!

Pairings: Inumaki Toge x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut! Fast burn. Cunnilingus. The movie spoiled me. Fluff and sweet things.

Masterlist

Toge doesn't expect to meet his soul mate while out for a snack run for the other second years in his class. You'd bumped into him coming out of the convenience store, and both of you had felt that instant connection when he'd grabbed your hand to prevent you from falling. Your face, red and adorable, stared up at him.

"Hi."

Toge wished more than anything that he could say anything to you that wasn't a rich ball ingredient, brows furrowing, as he slowly offers you a soft.

"Kelp."

Embarrassment welled up in his chest when you gave him an odd look, but then you shrugged like it was no big deal, giving Toge a winning smile and suggested that the two of you go somewhere less crowded.

Inumaki had easily agreed and shot a quick text off to Maki to let her know that he'd be back later that evening. He'd then followed you to a nearby park, your hand tangled with his own the entire time. The longer he held your hand, the more his mouth and tongue felt tingly, like he'd eaten something sour. It wasn't until he made it to the park that Inumaki recalled something Gojo had mentioned in passing about soul mates before.

"Soul mates, as rare as they are, can be dangerous. With enough skin on skin contact, your "other half" can mute your cursed technique. It's that reason why you hardly see anyone paired up around here."

Toge felt his heart rate pick up twofold, and his hand shook as he grabbed the zipper to his mask and tugged it down. You were looking at him curiously, taking in the old tattoos that he had on either side of his mouth. He licks his lips, voice rough when he speaks up.

"Hello."

You had beamed at him, excited but unsure as to why, other than knowing your soul mate seemed incredibly relieved about something. Toge had quickly introduced himself, speech picking up speed the more he relaxed in the knowledge that he couldn't hurt you with his cursed speech as long as you were touching him.

Things moved quickly after that. Dates and outings when Toge had the time outside of school, taking every bit of his spare time to get to know you. It's a month into his new relationship when things turn heated while he's at your apartment visiting.

You lay played across the bed, eyes only for Inumaki as the white-haired man hovers over you. Your shirt and pants have been cast aside, and he only wears a pair of boxers. You smooth your hands across his pale body, fingers dragging along his lean muscles and then up to pull him down for a kiss. His free hand grips your side, keeping your squirming body still.

You open your legs, and his throbbing erection flush with the heat of your core as your slide your legs up and around his hips. He sighs into the kiss, grinding down and enjoying the way your legs squeeze around him. You have been so kind, so understanding with him, and Inumaki loves you for it.

Toge breaks the kiss, smoothing down to nip at your jaw, and admiring the soft sounds that you make in response to his touch. Down he goes, taking your bra off and wrapping his lips around a peaked nipple. He leaves it swollen and red before he moves to the other one, giving it the same soft attention.

You whine and huff under him, dropping your legs when he scoots down to press loving kisses to your stomach and hip bones. He peeks up at you, purple eyes dark with arousal and want.

"You're so pretty," He murmurs and licks his lips, dipping his head to press a kiss to your covered mound. You shiver, eyes half-lidded as you thread your fingers through his hair.

His hands grasp your panties, sliding them down and past your legs to toss behind him. Inumaki strokes the sensitive skin of your hip bones, trailing them down to gently slide his middle finger through your sticky folds. He hums at how wet you are and explores further, slicking his fingers with your juices and basking in the noises you make for him.

"Toge, please."

Inumaki shifts back down at your quiet pleading, kissing your inner thighs and then up to your quivering lips. You whine at the heat of his tongue against your pussy, legs shifts open to accommodate his shoulders. He lulls his tongue out and groans when when he slides the muscle through your folds, finally tasting you. His mouth is devilish, tongue swirling against your clit and then pressing down with the perfect amount of pressure that it makes you see stars.

Toge slides a hand forward, fingers finding your dripping hole and circling it. Your hips buck, and he can't help the huff of amusement that escapes him at your Impatientness. The sorcerer nudges forward, and you sigh in relief at the feeling of being filled, even if it's only his fingers.

Your slick coats his hand, and Toge pulls all sorta of delicious sounds from you as he laps at your cunt like a man lost in the desert. Your stomach tenses, and you can feel that familiar tug deep in your belly as you get closer and closer. Inumaki grunts when you pull his hair, and he rises from your dripping cunt to stare at you, face covered in your juices.

"Is everything okay?"

When you nod, he drops back between your legs, tongue curling around your clit and sucking the throbbing bud into his mouth. You keen and arch off the bed, forcing Toge to push you back down even as he adds another finger. Electric shocks jump up and down your spine as you come with a cry of his name, muscles clenching down around his fingers and slick gushing from your cunt.

Inumaki slows to a stop when you pat the top of his head, feeling smug when he pulls away to smile down at your flushed body. He massages your hips and whispers sweet nothings as you come back to yourself before he leans down and kisses you. He wasn't done just yet.

#reader insert #jjk smut #inumaki toge #jjk inumaki #jjk x reader #inumaki x reader #soulmate au #soulmates #jujitsu kaisen

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joelalorian · 7 months ago

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Seven: I'll Catch You Darlin'

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.9k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, unprotected p in v, flirting, dads being dads. Two idiots falling in love. Joel is his own warning. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

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Chapter Six | Main Masterlist

Moonlight peeked through the gap in the dark curtains, beams of soft light dancing across your face. Blinking your eyes open, you glanced around the room, momentarily uncertain where you were. Even in the pre-dawn light, the walls were noticeably darker than your room, furniture a rich mahogany, the bedding a deep blue. The spot in the bed beside you was empty but warm, and it jogged your memory.

You were in Joel’s room, in his bed.

You slept with Joel last night… but, no, wait. You didn’t, you know, sleep with him, though you wanted to and now wished you had.

The two of you made a mess of each other on the couch – you still couldn’t believe you made Joel come in his pants. You’d never done such a thing and it was so fucking hot! Even hotter was the fact that he wasn’t even embarrassed about it. Instead, he let you know how much of an effect you had on him, murmuring affectionate words in your ear. Afterwards, you both cleaned up, Joel loaning you a pair of boxer briefs and joggers to replace your soaked jeans and panties, and finally sat down to watch a movie and order pizza. It was a perfect Sunday date night in. When Sarah and Tommy returned, they joined you for a bit, Sarah cuddled into your left side as you cuddled into Joel on your right. Somehow, after Sarah went to bed and Tommy left, you ended up in Joel’s bed, the dark sheets covering you as he held you in his broad arms. Too tired for anything more, you fell asleep.

It was the best night of sleep you had in your entire life.

Glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand, you sighed. Too early to rise, you huddled under the covers wondering where Joel went off to. Just then, the bathroom door creaked open, and Joel emerged, climbing back into bed next to you. His arms encased you in the warmth of his body and you hummed happily, placing soft kisses on his chest.

“Mmm, what are you doin’ awake, darlin’,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose in your hair.

“Dunno,” you replied, fingertips dancing along his arms and over his shoulders. Joel pulled you closer still and, with a tilt of your head, you pressed a kiss to his pouty lips, the scruff of his beard and mustache tickling your skin.

Just being in his arms, in his bed, caused a wave of arousal to pool in your lower belly. Thinking of last night on the couch, your hips pressed forward without conscious thought from your brain and your lower belly brushed against the swelling length of Joel’s cock.

“Is someone feelin’ a lil’ needy?” Joel asked, voice thick and velvety, as one hand wandered down the length of your back to squeeze at the plumpness of your ass.

“Always need you, Joel,” you practically whined, internally cringing at your own neediness. You always swore you wouldn’t beg for a man but with your skin practically burning for his every touch, you’d give anything for Joel to be inside you. You never wanted someone so much you felt like you could shatter from the wanton desire pulsing through you.

Shifting forward, Joel rolled you onto your back and hovered above you, bracing himself on one veiny forearm. The thumb of his free hand swiped slowly across your bottom lip, pulling at the pouty flesh, his dark eyes searing as your tongue darted out for a taste of his skin. With a growling moan, he darted forward to press his mouth to yours, nipping at that bottom lip while his hand traced a path down your neck and chest, seeking the roundness of your breasts. Precise in his movements, Joel swallowed your little mewls as he plucked at your nipples one at a time until they were hardened peaks. You squirmed as each delectable pinch sent a bolt of arousal straight to your pussy.

Without a word, Joel read your movements, his hand gliding further down your body to dip beneath the elastic of your panties. Leaning back slightly, his eyes met yours, pupils blown, and arched a single eyebrow. You were absolutely drenched, your arousal seeping through the fabric of your panties to coat the flesh of your inner thighs.

“All this for me? I’ve been so neglectful, you poor lil’ thing. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you, darlin’.”

Joel’s eyes never left yours as he swiped through your folds, the rough pad of his index finger strumming at your clit for a few beats before slipping inside you. It had been a while since you had anything other than a tampon inside you and your breath caught at the feeling of his thick finger stretching you. Soft mewls quickly turned to panting moans as he added another finger to the mix, curling them both to hit that little fleshy bundle of nerves that made you desperate to come as his thumb teased your clit.

“Shhh, darlin’. We need to be quiet,” Joel whispered, his breath in your ear causing goosebumps to prickle across your scalp and along your arms. Biting your lip, you did your best to stay quiet, breathing heavily through your nose as Joel scissored his fingers, opening you up to take the fullness of him.

Suddenly realizing you’ve been so focused on what Joel was doing to you that your hands hadn’t moved from his waist, you shifted. Hips arching up chasing the orgasm that teetered just out of reach, you slipped one hand around Joel’s hip, digging your fingers under the waistband of his boxer briefs to take the heft of him in hand.

Fuck, he was huge. Joel chuckled and your faced heated at the realization that you said that aloud. “That’s why I’m making sure you’re ready to take me, darlin’. I don’t want to hurt you, ever.”

How was this man real? He was everything you never knew you always wanted and then some. And God damn did he know how to work you right over the edge. Afraid of being too loud, you bit into the flesh of Joel’s shoulder to drown your moans as an intense orgasm washed over you. Joel’s fingers worked you through it, soothing you through the trembling aftershocks until you came back to your senses.

“Please, Joel. I need you. I’m ready. I need you now. Please,” you babbled, hands scrabbling at his underwear, wanting him as naked as you. So much for not begging.

Pushing back, Joel tugged his boxer briefs down his hips and thighs, kicking them away as he settled between your thighs. Your eyes widened when you caught a glimpse of his cock, mouth watering with the desire to taste him. Next time, you thought, as he tilted his hips forward, balancing his upper body on his arms. This was the moment you’d both been waiting patiently for.

Joel’s big brown eyes met yours, seeking confirmation that this was what you wanted, and you smiled. “Please, Joel,” you whimpered, hips bucking in search of friction.

Sealing his lips to yours, Joel pushed forward, easing his cock into you with an exaggerated slowness. The mixture of pleasure and slight pain was exquisite as inch after inch of his cock caressed your walls, eyes rolling back when he finally bottomed out.

“Fuck, baby. Y-you feel so fucking good wrapped around me, squeezing me so tight. I could live here, just like this, forever.” Joel’s voice a deep whisper as he rocked into you, cock sliding along your fluttering walls, hitting just the right spots with every movement. He was do deep inside you; you’d swear you could feel him deep in your belly.

The broadness of him surrounded you as he fed you his cock with steady thrusts. Sex never felt so good, and you knew it had everything to do with Joel and the way you felt about him. You’d never felt this way about anyone before and, though it overwhelmed you, it was the greatest thing in the world. You were bursting to tell him the true depth of your feelings, but hesitated, not wanting to be the first to make such a declaration, especially in the heat of the moment.

The pace picked up, Joel kissing you deeply as he rocked into you. You swallowed each other’s moans as you wrapped your legs around his hips, drawing him ever closer, ever deeper. The brush of his lower belly and coarse curls against you created just the right amount of friction on your clit it threw you right over the cliff, moaning into Joel’s mouth, fingernails digging into the skin of his back. No doubt there would be a dozen half moon markings on his back later.

Within a few thrusts, Joel’s pace turned erratic as he sought his own pleasure. Tearing his lips from yours, he frantically blurted, “Where?”

“Inside. Come inside me, baby,” your mewled, aching to feel him pulse inside you.

Two more thrusts and Joel came, his low groan muffled by your neck as he burrowed his head into the pillow. “Fuck,” he drew out the word, followed by a sigh of your name before he collapsed half on top of you. The bulk of him like a weighted blanket covering your body. “That was amazing. I can’t wait to do it again.”

Still delirious, you both chuckled as quietly as you could manage, chests heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Rolling off you, Joel pulled you close so that you were now sprawled half over him and cuddled you until your heart rates returned to normal.

A glance at the clock let you know you were out of time. Sarah would be up any minute looking for breakfast before getting ready for school. The thought of unwrapping yourself from Joel and leaving his bed pained you, but you both got up. You did a quick cleanup while Joel jumped in the shower. As much as you wanted to join him, you both knew you’d lose track of time if you did. Instead, you jumped in after Joel finished, letting him deal with getting Sarah’s breakfast.

It wasn’t until you emerged from the shower that nervous energy coursed through you at the thought of going downstairs. Did Sarah know you stayed over? Did Joel want Sarah to know that you stayed over? You should have talked to Joel about this before he went downstairs, but it was too late now. The questions still swirled in your head as you slipped on the borrowed joggers and scraped your hair into a knot at the back of your head. You wore a tank top to sleep in and were about to put your shirt from the night before on when one of Joel’s flannels caught your eye. Holding the fabric up to your nose, you breathed in the scent of him – fresh cut wood and a musk that was so uniquely Joel – and slipped the shirt on with a tender smile. Time to face the music, you thought.

Steps light as you walked down the stairs, you heard Sarah chattering away to Joel and smiled when Joel’s deep voice muttered responses. Their connection warmed your heart and you wanted so badly to be part of this family unit with them.

Catching sight of you as you turned the corner, Joel’s dark chocolate eyes lit up, lips twitching into a half smile. “Good mornin’, darlin’,” he greeted once you stepped through into the kitchen, leaning down to kiss the top of your head as if the two of you hadn’t spent the last hour getting full carnal knowledge of each other. “How’d you sleep?”

“Mmm, good morning you two,” you replied, slipping into the seat next to Sarah with a smile at the young girl. “That was the best night of sleep.”

Joel looked pleased with himself as he placed a glass of water on the table in front of you along with a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. “Just what I hoped to hear.” He took the seat across from you at the little four-top table and the three of you dug in.

Sarah kept up a stream of chatter as you ate, telling you all about her ice cream date with Tommy the night before. About mid-way through breakfast, you nearly choked on your eggs when the little girl blurted, “You’re wearing Daddy’s clothes. Does that mean you’re officially his girlfriend now?”

Sputtering, your wide-eyed gaze darted to Joel. He sat there looking cool as a cucumber, lips quirked in a grin and umber eyes twinkling with mischief. “Yeah, darlin’. Does that mean you’re officially my girlfriend now?”

Eyes narrowing at the menace of a man sitting across the table, you smirked. Two could play this game. “Well, I don’t know. What do I get for being your official girlfriend?” you asked, voice dipping toward sultry.

Joel visibly gulped, eyes searching your face before he cleared his throat. “Anything you want.” He said it so simply, the words leaving his lips so effortlessly, and it threw you.

“What about what you want?” you deflected.

Sarah gazed between the two of you, nose scrunched, equal parts happy and confused. Why did adults make everything complicated?

Playfulness glinted in Joel’s eyes, winking at Sarah before turning back to you. “I want you to be my official girlfriend.”

“Okie dokie,” you replied with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, feigning indifference as you took the last bite of eggs on your plate to hide your smile.

Joel shook his head, wide grin splitting his face, and went to reply when his phone buzzed. He shot a brief look to you before answering. “Hey JB,” he greeted, listening as your dad spoke. “Yeah, she’s here. Just getting the nugget ready for school.”

One thick-fingered hand tapped a rhythm on the wooden table, phone to his left ear as he gazed at you. Your dad was talking a lot, the echo of his voice carried in the air, but you couldn’t decipher what he said.

“It’s no bother, man. She’s a good girl and we love having her here.” Joel winked at you again before motioning for Sarah to go finish getting ready. “Yeah, JB, you can talk to her.”

Accepting the phone as he passed it across the table, you sat back in the chair. “Hey Dad. What’s up?”

“What’s up with you, ya dirty stay out? I didn’t see your car last night or this morning and wondered where ya were. Guess I shoulda known you’d be over there.”

There was something off with your dad’s tone and you panicked, trying in vain to think of an excuse on why you would’ve stayed the night. Mouth opening and closing a few times, your dad beat you to the punch.

“Don’t be makin’ a nuisance of yourself over there, ya hear? It’s one thing to have a crush on the guy, but it’s another to force yourself into every aspect of their lives, Spud. Don’t be getting’ in the way of their family time. You know how important that is.”

Your dad kept going, rattling off some other advice you didn’t ask for, but you were stuck on one thing. He thought you had a crush on Joel. He was much more observant than you ever gave him credit for. You and Joel would not be able to keep your now official relationship secret for long, not with good ol’ JB nosing around.

Joel’s eyes burned into you, but you couldn’t meet his gaze, staring down at the flaws in the tabletop instead.

“Anyway, I just wanted to wish ya good luck on your meeting at the school today, sweetie. You make your old man proud,” your dad said. “Tell Joel I’ll see him later. Love you, Spud.”

“Thanks Dad, love you too,” you uttered, the line going dead before you finished speaking. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, your eyes met Joel’s, finally. “He thinks I have a crush on you and shouldn’t interfere with your family time.”

Tilting his head to the side, brows pinched, Joel reached a hand across the table to link his fingers with yours. “We’ll tell him real soon, darlin’. Don’t want you keeping secrets from your dad like this.”

“You sure? What if…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m here, in this, for the long haul,” Joel replied imploringly, his fingers squeezing yours. “I haven’t felt like this in too long, if ever, and I’m not givin’ it up for anything. Okay?”

The tell-tale tickle of tears welled but you refused to let them spill over, nodding with a watery smile. “Okay.”

The day started off cool, but the southern sun beat down on the back of Joel’s neck by early afternoon, causing him to shed the red flannel he wore to the job site. Gulping down a bottle of chilled water, he glanced at his phone hoping for a message from you.

You were on his mind constantly. Something triggered a memory or thought of you at almost every moment of the day. He’d see a bird and wonder if you knew what species it was. Or he’d hear something funny and wonder what you’d think about it. Or memories of you in his lap and in his bed would hit suddenly, making him hot under the collar and below the belt.

Joel Miller was a man falling in love and powerless to stop it. Not that he wanted to, anyway.

Just then his phone buzzed with a message from you asking him to call you when he had a moment. He’d always make time for you, he thought, his fingers already hitting the call symbol.

“Hey handsome,” you answered on the second ring, breathless as if you were running.

“Howdy darlin’,” he replied, voice deep and rumbly, just the way he knew you liked it. “How’d the meeting go?”

You were silent for a moment too long, and Joel pulled the phone from his ear, checking that the call didn’t drop.

“Well, you’re talking to the new middle grade science teacher, so I’d say it went well.” He could feel the pride in your voice and his heart swelled.

“Congrats, darlin’. I knew you’d get it and you’ll be the best damn science teacher those kids will ever have.” He was already thinking about how lucky Sarah would be to have you as a teacher. Letting his voice go a little deeper, he added, “We should celebrate this weekend. Sarah has two sleepover birthday parties to go to, so we’ll have the house to ourselves. I can take my time in showing you just how proud I am of you, and we can be as loud as we want.”

Your breath audibly hitched on the other end of the phone, causing Joel’s lips to twitch into a smirk. “I’d really like that, Joel,” you breathed, and his jeans suddenly grew tighter.

Adjusting himself as subtly as possible, Joel sighed. “I should go, sweetheart. There’s a ton to do at this site and I’m already looking at a few long days this week. Call JB next. He’s dropping by in a bit, and I don’t want to let something slip that I shouldn’t know yet.”

Sighing deeply into the phone, you said, “Alright, I’ll call him now. We gotta tell him soon, Joel. This is only gonna get harder, you know.”

“I know, sweet cheeks. We will, I promise.” Hearing his name, Joel nodded to one of his crew before saying goodbye. Your sweet voice echoed in his ears as he worked like a dog the rest of the day. JB was a proud papa when he stopped by, bragging about you to anyone who would listen. Guilt gurgled in Joel’s gut knowing the two of you were keeping a secret from the guy, but he pushed it down, pretending that he didn’t know anything about your new job and let JB share the details. The sun set long before he left the site, and he arrived home to find leftovers warming on the stove while you got Sarah ready for bed.

The sight of you walking down the stairs, smiling sweetly at him, set his soul on fire. God, how he longed to be with you all the time, to wake up next to you every morning and come home to you every evening.

“Come ‘ere, my sexy teacher girlfriend,” he greeted softly, pulling you in for a scorching kiss. He wasted no time, tongue dipping into your mouth to tangle with yours. “You’re so beautiful and smart, I’m so lucky I get to call you mine.”

You laughed with a little shake of your head. “I’m the lucky one, Joel. I can’t believe some lucky lady hadn’t snatched you up before I came along.”

Even though he was dirty and probably stunk of sweat from working all day, Joel hesitated to let you out of his embrace. As if sensing his feelings, you nuzzled into him.

“I wish I could stay the night, but I should get back to my dad’s,” you said, reluctantly.

“I know, darlin’. We’ll tell him soon and then you can stay over whenever you want.” Joel walked you out the door, thanking you for taking care of Sarah and cooking dinner. He kissed you a few more times on the way to your car and even ducked down to buckle you in and kiss you one last time before finally stepping back. “I’ll see you in the mornin’. I—”

That pesky little four-letter word had been bouncing around his heart and mind for weeks, even before the two of you decided to give this thing before you a shot, but he hesitated to say it first. He’d never said it and meant it, and to him it was a really big thing that he needed to time just right.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of work for Joel. Business was good, keeping him, Tommy, and a few other guys busier than any of them preferred. It was getting to the point where Joel needed to hire another crew so they could run two jobs at once. Though it was a great thing, making changes to his business always increased Joel’s anxiety. Management wasn’t his forte and he was terrified of screwing something up, but maybe that’s what made him a great small business owner. He was hyper vigilant in both the business and construction side of operations, going the extra mile to make sure things ran safely and smoothly.

The downfall of being so busy was, of course, the complete lack of time to spend with Sarah or you. It made him extra happy to know that Sarah had you to lean on and spend time with while he was busy, though. You were the piece of the support system that Sarah had been missing and seeing the bond between the two of you grow stronger every day warmed his heart to the point of bursting.

Finally, Friday arrived, and Joel busted his ass to get done early, rushing home to shower and setup a little something in the backyard to celebrate you landing your first teaching position. He had the perfect evening planned.

tbc

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#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots falling for each other

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insomniactic-daydream · 4 months ago

Text

Really?- Bakugo x Reader

Bakugo x Support Course Shoto's Twin Sister Reader (Part 5)

<- (Previous Part 4)

Summary: Y/n and Bakugo being supportive love sick idiots. (I'm too lazy to write a summary rn)

"What is this shit? Why is the fabric weird?"

"Those are your gloves. They'll help you adjust to the seasonal changes. Warmer in the winter and even more sweat in these warmer temperatures.

It's made with metal thread produced by yours truly. That way, they dont wear out easily." you say while tidying up some screws.

Bakugo's questioning has been going on for the last few minutes. If you didn't know better, you'd think he's trying to take your place in the support course. You swear he's taking up all the oxygen in the unventilated shed; nothing but an open window.

"You spent time sewing this shit together after creating the thread?"

"I am the best, aren't I?" You say, looking up from the gauntlets to meet his eyes with a smirk. He quickly turns his head in another direction, avoiding being caught flustered.

"Tch, as if. I just didn't think you losers had to put together so much shit just for one hero's gear." He grumbles, taking on a new appreciation to support course people and workers.

"Well, now you know not to be cheap when it comes to your agency's gear in the future, right Number One?" You say before grabbing the gloves and one of his arms.

You slip his hands into the fingerless gloves; shockingly compliant. Meanwhile, Bakugo is wondering how the hell your hands are so soft given your job. One of the pros of having a lava quirk.

"Tch damn right, nerd. Now the hell are we doing now?" He says, eyeing Y/n's calm and zone in look on her face.

"Do you ever stop asking questions? We're assembling your shit together already. If anything too tight or loose, tell me, and I'll adjust it. " You say as he examines the gauntlets on his arms, opening and closing his fists.

"One of the rings for my ultimate blast is a bit snug. It's making harder to pull on to activate it." He says while Y/n grabs the defective gauntlet pulling out the ring.

Y/n also grabs his hand again while heating up the ring with her quirk and goes to the finger in question; which so happens to be his ring finger.

"Oi, what the hell do yo -" Bakugo says in fear for his finger to be charred off or 3rd degree burns at least. He pauses as he realizes the ring is also being cooled down with your ice quirk.

"What too soon for you to say yes?" you say through a chuckle, jokingly makes it seem she's proposing to him.

That's when Bakugo quirk goes off, earning a little harmless explosion to Y/n's face. Even Bakugo was not sure he meant to do that, but he quickly composed himself.

"You're an idiot." He says, rolling his eyes and his face away from you. You let out a giggle.

"What? If this this career doesn't work out for me I had to make sure I'm rich somehow." She says sarcastically.

"Your father is literally loaded, dumbass." He says to you; now chuckling at your stupid joke. Totally forgetting that you almost burned his finger off. (He's being overdramatic)

You were an idiot he thought. But something warm erupted in his chest, thinking about your unwavering confidence in him to be number one in the future.

You always refer to his goal as something you believe he can actually achieve. You don't criticize his personality or tell him it's impossible with an ego like his. You actually think he's going to be someone big someday.

And if he were honest with himself, he wouldn't mind if you're there when he does make his dream a reality.

"Hm, I guess you're right." You say laughing, and you help him reattach parts of the gauntlets.

"Besides, you're not half bad at this shit. I don't think you'll fail even if you tried." He grumbles softly, almost embarrassed he's complimenting you.

"Guess I proved myself to you, huh then number one?" You look up to make eye contact with him.

He stares back intensely. Like a trance, he can't shake off.

"I guess you did, idiot." He says softly. He admit he had his reservations about you, but you ended up proving him wrong in the such short duration of time you've known each other.

The room falls silent for a while. Nobody mentioned the moment that just happened between them. Too stubborn to say the obvious.

"So why the support course? And how come not your brother too?" Bakugo says, clearing his throat into a new conversation. Y/n, let's out a pondering hum.

"Hm, well, I did get my quirk a little later than him. I was always around my dad, but he only focused on training Shoto for the time being."

"I'd usually stay around the agency when I was younger while my mother took care of my siblings at home. That's how I ended being looked after by the agency's support crew." You say with a shrug.

The information made Bakugo uneasy. How come your mother didn't take care of you? But your speaking cut off his thoughts.

"From then, I already learned the basics. And so, even when my quirk came and my dad pushed me towards becoming a hero, I knew that I wanted to make support gear. And I wanted to be the best at it." You say with a smile as you adjust the newly fitted ring back into the now newly completed gauntlets.

"Well, if my gauntlets serve any proof, I'd say your smartass is already halfway there." Bakugo says wholeheartedly to you. Hoping his words gave you an ounce of confidence you've given him.

"Really?"

"Really"

"Guess I should charge you extra then, huh? I mean, I'm going to be in pretty high demand then."

"You know what. I take it back."

As if he wouldn't pay top dollar for you if that were the case.

(Part 6) ->

I literally cringed writing this. Idk why I can't write lovey stuff 😭

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mariasont · 8 months ago

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Our Minds Entwined------------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3

Aaron Hotchner x Original Character x Spencer Reid

in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest youngest member

Chapter Two:

Evelyn glided into the BAU office like the first breath of spring, her heels tapping a confident rhythm against the gleaming floor--a drummer setting the beat for a new day. The sun peaked shyly above the horizon, casting a soft glow that seemed to dance with the spark in her eyes. With a tray of meticulously chosen coffee cups cradled in her hands, she was the portrait of preparedness, memorizing everyone's order--or so she thought.

Her arrival was like a ripple in a still pond, drawing the gaze of every agent in the room. They couldn't help but be captivated by the way her hair cascaded in perfect waves, each strand catching the light as if spun from chestnut threads. Her nails, painted a shade of pink, spoke of a meticulous nature, each tip polished to a flawless finish. The air shifted around her, sweetened by the subtle hint of vanilla that trailed in her wake. She moved with a grace that belied the steel in her spine.

"Good morning, everyone!" Evelyn chirps, her voice a cheerful melody that fills the BAU conference room. She flutters to the table, her movements light. "Your caffeine fix, courtesy of the new girl," she announced with a wink, her words wrapped in warmth.

Each cup finds its way into the hands of colleagues, a personal touch from the newest member. Hotchner's eyebrow arches in silent question as he brings the cup to his lips, the familiar comfort of his morning ritual poised at the edge of disruption.

The first sip is a surprise, a cascade of caramel where stark bitterness usually resides. "This is... different," he remarks, the dryness of his tone belting out a hint of amusement that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Yet, in the curve of his mouth, there's a shadow of a smile, a rare crack in the facade of the ever-serious unit chief.

Reid's curiosity piqued as he approached his coffee with caution. The liquid was dark and unadulterated, a stark contrast to the usual sugary coffee. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth, a silent nod to Evelyn's thoughtful gesture. "Actually, this is exactly how I like it," he said, the lie as transparent as glass, accompanied by an awkward sweep of his hand through his hair. "Thank you, Evelyn."

The room fills with soft laughter. It was a rare sound, one that seemed to wrap around the room like a comforting blanket. Rossi, who had just walked in, couldn't but chuckle as he reached for his expresso, served just the way he liked it.

"You'll fit right in, kid," Rossi said, his voice rich with approval as he gave Evelyn a gentle pat on the shoulder.

Evelyn's cheeks flushed with a cocktail of embarrassment and delight, a rosy hue that matched the sunrise peeking through the blinds. "I'll get it right next time, promise," she chirped, her voice a tender mix of hope and humility.

As the room settled into the rhythm of the morning briefing, Evelyn found herself perched next to Reid, her pulse dancing to a nervous beat. "So, I heard you're going to be my mentor," she blurted out, her words tumbling faster than her mind could keep up. "I'm really looking forward to learning from you, Dr. Reid. I mean, your analysis on the last case was just--wow!"

Reid's gaze lingered on her, a silent enigma before his lips curled into a smile that could put the stars to shame. "I'm looking forward to working with you too, Evelyn. And please, call me Spencer."

The name rolled off her tongue, a sweet note in her mouth. "Spencer," she echoed, savoring the familiarity it promised. A shadow of a memory flickered--the bar incident--and her smile wavered, a ripple of uncertainty. Had he heard what she said that night? She prayed not.

The conference room, usually a crucible of tension and intellect, shifted into a training exercise as Hotchner laid out the case before Evelyn. "Evelyn, we have a mock case for you," he declared, his voice a beacon of authority. "We need a profile for a suspect based on the evidence provided. Let's see what you've got."

Evelyn stood, her notes clutched in her hands like a shield, her smile a bright flag of enthusiasm. "Thank you, sir," she said, her voice ringing with the clear tones of determination. "Okay, based on the behavioral patterns and crime scene photos, I'd say our suspect is a male in his late thirties, likely works in a managerial position--someone who's used to being in control."

From the sidelines, Reid observed, his mentor's eyes sharp yet encouraging. As Evelyn unfolded her thoughts, he found himself quietly impressed by the clarity of her intuition and solidity of her logic. She was a natural, her talent shining through like a lighthouse in the fog.

"Also," Evelyn pressed on, her confidence swelling, "he's meticulous, organized. The way the scene is arranged, it's almost ritualistic. This isn't his first rodeo."

Hotchner absorbed her words, his face a mask of neutrality. When she concluded, he gave a slow nod. "Impressive, Evelyn. Very thorough analysis."

Reid leaned in, his gaze locking with Evelyn's. "You're right about the control aspect," he offered softly, his voice a harmonious contrast to Hotchner's commanding tone. "But consider this--the suspect might also crave recognition. The 'ritualistic' aspect could be a signature, a way to stand out."

Evelyn's eyes stayed on Reid; her respect evident. "That's a really good point, thank you, Dr. Reid--Spencer," she corrected, a blush coloring her cheeks.

A hush fell over the room, all eyes drawn to the pair. Then, like a burst of sunlight through clouds, Garcia tumbled into the room, her arms laden with case files and her attire a splash of color. "Sorry, I'm late, traffic was a nightmare!" she announced, but her tone softened as she caught sight of Evelyn. "Oh, you're doing the mock case today! You go, girl!"

Evelyn's smile returned, buoyed by Garcia's infectious cheer. The room came alive with a fresh vigor, the team converging to weave their insights on Evelyn's building profile.

As the discussion continues, Spencer leaned in, his voice a low murmur meant only for Evelyn. "You have a good instinct for this," he murmured, his eyes twinkling with pride.

The moment shattered as JJ burst through the door, her breaths quick and sharp, cutting through the quiet. "Sorry to interrupt," she gasped, "But we've got a situation. The 'Charleston Choker'--he's active again."

A heavy silence fell, the team's focus coalescing into a sharp point. Hotchner's nod was silent, a nonverbal command that set the wheels in motion. "Go ahead, JJ."

With a sense of solemnity, JJ unfurled the folder, her fingers tracing the outline of a lily in a crime scene photo. "Two hours ago, a jogger found a body in the woods outside of Charleston. Strangulation, posed, and..." Her voice faltered, the weight of the words heavy on her tongue, "...a lily placed in the victim's hands."

Reid's mind was a whirl with patterns and profiles, his thoughts racing ahead. "That's the third this month. The escalation is consistent with his pattern."

Evelyn's response with a bright flame of determination, tinged with a concern of the uninitiated. "What's our timeline looking like? How fast is he moving now?"

"Faster," JJ returned, her gaze locking with Evelyn's, a silent exchange of resolve. "Days instead of weeks."

Garcia chimed in from her nest of monitors, "And I just cross-referenced florists in the area. There's a purchase that stands out--cash, large quantities. It could be our guy."

Evelyn's eyes shone, the thrill of her first case igniting a spark within. "That's something! Can we get a location?"

Reid's smile was tinged with pride and a hint of concern. "We can, and we will. But we need to be careful. This unsub is cautious; he's been evading us for a reason."

Hotchner rose, his very stance a commandment. "Wheels up in 30. JJ, brief us on the way. Garcia, send everything you have to the tablets."

The team began to mobilize, the urgency palpable. As they walked out, Evelyn turned to Reid, her voice a mix of excitement and naivety. "This is it, huh? The real deal?"

Reid nodded, the protective edge in his voice unmistakable. "It is. And remember, it's not about just catching him--it's about saving the next potential victim."

Evelyn's first step onto the BAU jet was like stepping into another world--one where the grim realities of their job were momentarily eclipsed by the sheer luxury of federal funding. The plush leather seats, the soft hum of the engines, it was all so... cinematic.

As she settled into the seat beside Hotchner, the reality of her situation began to sink in. She was here, really here, on the jet she'd seen countless times from her father, now filled with the tangible presence of her new colleagues--legends in their own right. And then there was Hotchner, the epitome of stoic leadership, his profile as he reviewed case files was a study in concentration. Evelyn couldn't help but steal glances, each one leaving her more awestruck than the last.

Hothcner's brow raised as his focus stayed on the case file. "Something on your mind, Evelyn?" he inquired, his voice steady.

Evelyn's cheeks were a canvas of emotion, painted with the embarrassment of being caught ogling as she averted her eyes. "Just... taking it all in. It's a lot to process," she said, her voice a whisper of excitement against the backdrop of her new reality.

A smile, rare and fleeting, graced Hotchner's lips. "It can be overwhelming at first," he acknowledged, his words a gentle nudge of encouragement.

The jet engines roared to life, and as they ascended, Evelyn felt the weight of her new reality. She was flying high, both literally and metaphorically on the wings of her dreams and the gravity of their mission. The juxtaposition was dizzying.

JJ commanded the room from the head of the plane, her laser pointer a wand of urgency as she traced the geography of the investigation. "This is where the last body was found," she intoned, each word heavy with the gravity of their task. "And here, and here. All within a ten-mile radius."

Morgan's posture was that of a statue, contemplative and still. "He's got a comfort zone. He's not taking any chances, staying close to what he knows," he mused, his thoughts a fortress around the profile they were building.

"Which means he's likely a local. Someone who blends in, who wouldn't raise suspicion," Reid contributes, his voice a sound of reason.

Evelyn observed with the intensity of a hawk. Her notes were a flurry of ink and paper, a physical manifestation of her fervor to contribute.

"So, we're looking for a needle in a haystack, but at least we know which haystack," she offered, her optimism a beacon in the fog of uncertainty.

Garcia's voice, a familiar melody, filled the space from the screen. "And I'm sifting through it as we speak, my doves. I'll find that needle," she promised, her determination a tangible force even through the digital divide.

Hotchner's nod was a silent decree, a sign of approval and command. "Good. Keep us updated, Garcia," he directed.

The team continues to brainstorm, throwing out theories and ideas. Evelyn sat amidst the seasoned agents; her eyes wide with a childlike wonder. Her enthusiasm was infectious, a palpable energy that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of her heartbeat--fast, eager, alive. Hotchner watched her, his gaze the steady flame in her excitement.

There was a softness there, a rare glimpse of approval that softened the hard lines of his face. He saw in her the spark that had once driven him, the unquenchable thirst for justice that was the lifeblood of their work.

Evelyn's idea cut through the hum of the plane's descent. "What if we set up a roadblock? Check vehicles coming in and out of the area?" Her voice a symphony of eagerness.

Rossi smirks at her words. "Not a bad idea for a rookie," he mused, his words a gentle tease wrapped in the velvet of experience.

As the plane continues to descend, the team starts to pack up their gear. Hotchner remained seated, his gaze anchoring Evelyn in place.

"Listen, Evelyn," he said, his tone even, "I know this is exciting for you, your first real case. But remember, this job... it can take a lot out of you. It can change you."

Evelyn nodded, her shine not dimming. "I know. But I'm ready."

Hotchner's expression softened just a touch. "Just don't lose that optimism. It's rare in this line of work, and it's... refreshing."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotchner #reid #dr. reid #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x original character #spencer reid x original character #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader x aaron hotchner #Spotify

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sinsmockingbird · 8 months ago

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Hello hello I hope this ask reaches you well because I'm very not well thinking about rich alpha ptn women aka Eirene Chelsea and Cabernet share a lil omega together 🥵🥵

You're a freshly recruited omega who's responsible for working in the MBCC's cafeteria. The job is simple, you stay behind counters to serve the Sinners their meals and wait until they leave to clean the area. The bureau pays you well, enough to make ends meet every months but in your mind, you know you can achieve more than this.

In the first few weeks you do job perfectly, and even make friends with some Sinners. One of them is the famous Cabernet Franc, daughter of one of the riches families in Eastside. Cabernet clearly has an interest in you, her lust keeps growing stronger and stronger but before she can sweep you away, you magically disappear from your job in the cafeteria. When she discovers that you've resigned to work for the Quinn Industry, she knows she has to have a personal talk with the Eirene Quinn.

Chelsea thought she found you first, a naive, innocent and unmated omega who's working hard to earn money in the bureau. Immediately she takes you under her wings, telling you to be her mate and she will provide you an endless amount of money! When you reluctantly refuse, saying that you would rather be financially independent and that the Quinn CEO has already promised you a position in her company, Chelsea is absolutely furious. How dare the woman steal you from her?

On the other hand, Eirene is very pleased that she has the upper hand in keeping you to herself. You come to her cell all by your own, personally asking her about the vacant positions in her company without fears that she may tear your life into threads. Your determination and willingness to have a stable job in her company amused her, but it was your sweet odor of purity attracted her. It didn't take much effort to trick you into working as her "private secrectary", you were just so oblivious to the alpha's hungry stare. Eirene is the woman of conquer, so when she sees something she wants, she will get it. But why do you come into her office, according to her request to give you a brief explanation of work (a lie ofc), with two angry alphas follow quietly behind?

As a result, you are trapped in a same room with 3 intimidating alphas who're trying to kill each other to win over you. You're freaked out at the scene before you, wanting to run away and hide. But before you can take one step away from their gaze Chelsea makes an offer: "Why don't we share this little one?" The other two look at each other in silence, then nod their head in agreement.

The only one who seems to disagree is you, though. Being mated to not one, but three alphas at the same time, how can your body withstand the rough treatment? You try to run again, only to be caught in Cabernet's vines and being tied up in an embarrassing position: legs spread out on the head, hands on your head, immobile. Three pair of eyes stare at your clothed body making you instinctively squirm, their pheromones being spread you cause your heat to overcome your senses, then in a blink of an eye you are begging them to touch you desperately.

Half an hour later you have Chelsea behind your back, thrusting in and out of your ass and playing with your nipples, Eirene on her knees in front pushing her cock into your mouth, and Cabernet hungrily taking your pussy. Although the alphas still hate each other, they all decide that pleasing the omega together is their priority and tone down the hatred. Why would they fight when they have a needy girl to dote on like this? By the time each woman has their full, you've passed out from exhaustion and overstimulation, leaving to clean up the wet mess on the bed, full of their cum. Eirene plugs your pussy up, telling the other two that whoever your first child is can have you to themselves for an entire week.

They never back down from a challenge, so prepare yourself to be absolutely ravaged in the next months...

Oh god, this is so hot. Like I can completely see Cabernet getting pussy drunk off you. She's eating you out, her little Omega, like your a fucking feast, and you are! She would happily eat you out for hours, not caring if you've long passed out, she's just addicted to your taste, and you can't blame her! She'd be fucking/humping her cock into the bed, and she doesn't need any stimulation on her pretty cock, because tasting your cum is enough to get her off.

Chelsea is pathetic when it comes to you, her shared Omega. She can be possessive, wanting to mark you up with her teeth and nails, to try and show claim that your hers- even though she does share you with two other women. She's the one mainly fucking you with her cock, giving you endless creampies, because she doesn't ever want to pull out of your pretty pussy.

Eirene is probably the most dominant out of the three, and she's the one who sees you the most, considering you work with her. Being her private secretary means you're usually under her desk in her office, having her cock shoved down your through, making you suck her off and cockwarm her with your mouth. She also loves fucking you against the wall of windows in her office, making you stare at the bustling street below while she's fucking you rough and fast and staining your soaked pussy with her cum.

@sea-lanterns You'll love this because it has your wife, Cabernet.

#*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟsins inbox #*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟsins thirsts #cabernet #cabernet x reader #cabernet x you #chelsea #chelsea x reader #chelsea x you #eirene #eirene x reader #eirene x you

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friendsoup · 10 months ago

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aah you're fuelling my reverse 1999 addiction sm righ now!! if you're able to maybe some fluff with medicine pocket, dikke or blonney with a SO who got a new hair cut??

Haircuts!

Recipe: Medi is oblivious, but they try!, Hair touching, Awkward Dikke, Blonney being a rich girl, And a sugar mommy?, She just likes spoiling you WC: 703 Chef's Note: I hope you don't mind that this is super short! I just wanted to get this out, and I didn't want to write a full fic for 3 characters at a time! If you like these little bite sized fics, let me know! They're honestly way less stress for me, and I can get them out quicker!

Medicine Pocket

…It takes a moment for Medi to realize there’s something different about you, to be honest. They’re so wrapped up in their work, they don’t spare a second glance. They simply mutter a generic reply when you try to get their attention, too focused on what’s in front of them to care. After you clear your throat, they’ll look up. They’ll squint at you for a moment, realizing something’s off, but not knowing what. “Uhhh… new glasses?” Once they realize what’s going on, they’ll feel incredibly silly. Their face will heat up, and they’ll get very defensive about it. “How was I supposed to know?!” is thrown out, though they do feel bad for not noticing sooner.

They’ll compliment it awkwardly. They aren’t one for fashion, nor any form of self care, but they do like how it looks on you. They just don’t know how to express it.

Once you two are alone, without Medi’s nose in their studies, Medi is ALL over your new hair. Touching it, playing with it, brushing it with their fingers. At one point, they start petting you like one would a dog, even giving the baby talk along with it. They’re so used to giving their canines affection, they’ve forgotten how to give humans normal affection. You can correct them if you’d like, and they’ll stop. But honestly? It feels nice.

Dikke

Dikke freezes when she first sees you. She stares at you from across the room, acclimating to your new look. For a moment, you’re worried that she may be mad at you. Did you offend her in some way? You don’t remember anything you could have done. When she approaches you, it’s with such determination that you’re worried you may meet the end of her sword.

“You look… nice…” The words fight to escape her mouth, her whole face becoming flushed in response. She doesn’t dare look you in the eyes, her body rigid, her expression the same. If you weren’t used to Dikke’s antics, you might have thought that she was attempting to lie, but you knew her far better than that. “Thank you!” You respond, reaching for her hand. She jumps at the touch, but quickly accepts it, threading her fingers into yours.

“Y-Your hair is… pretty…” She continues. Affection through words is not her strong suit. However, she still wants to compliment you, despite how embarrassed it makes her to do so.

“I’m glad you like it, my knight.” You smile, caressing the back of her hand with your thumb.

Blonney

When you mentioned getting your hair cut, Blonney was over the moon. She brought you to her favorite place, and made sure to spare no expense on your new look. The hairdressers were high tier stuff, whatever you wanted for your hair? They were able to replicate.

You walk into the waiting room to see her, feeling a bit nervous. However, the moment she sees you, her face lights up. She jumps out of her seat, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into a tight hug. Every compliment she can give is exclaimed loudly, as she spins you in her arms. It’s embarrassing, the entire waiting room’s eyes glued onto the two of you, but you’re so overcome with affection that you can ignore it.

Once Blonney releases you from her embrace, you can tell she’s only getting more excited. “Now we have to get a new outfit for you!” She says, grabbing your hand and dragging you off to the nearest mall.

Blonney has always loved dressing you up, but with the new haircut? It’s like a whole new beast was unleashed. She keeps in mind your preferred fashion style, making sure to get only things she knows you’ll like to wear. Her eye for fashion is incredibly good, and every outfit she picks makes you almost dizzy with confidence.

At the end of the day, the two of you will be relaxing on the couch, and Blonney will be playing with your hair. She’ll tell you all the ways you can style it, and how she’d like to see you wear it. The two of you stay cuddled up there until you fall asleep.

#x reader #reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 x reader #Dikke #Dikke x reader #Dikke x you #Dikke reverse 1999 #Medicine Pocket #Medicine Pocket x reader #Medicine Pocket x you #Medicine Pocket reverse 1999 #Blonney #blonney x reader #Blonney x you #blonney reverse 1999 #fanfic #reader insert #Let's Make Friend Soup!#Order Up!

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wri0thesley · 1 year ago

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show me - welt x reader (3k)

it's easier if you show him, welt says. and if you show him . . . he'll show you too.

cw: afab reader (no pronouns). mutual masturbation, talk of past fantasising, welt has a corruption kink, reader is inexperienced. not sfw, minors dni.

[a/n: i used a random number generator to throw me some scenarios with some of my fav characters to write, kinks to write etc as a little birthday game for myself, and it threw up welt and mutual masturbation to begin with and it was so perfect for him i couldn't resist.]

Welt’s hands rest reassuringly on your thighs, warm and calloused – the single glove shed. His face above you is gentle as always; the stars reflecting off the glass of his spectacles, a small smile on his handsome face. His hair falling against his forehead, the silver threading through it catching the light.

“Show me,” he repeats to you again, his voice as low and calm as ever, even as your own heart jack-rabbits in your chest like a frightened animal. Your breath feels short. He sees the way that you take your steadying breath and smiles, one hand moving from your thigh to catch your chin in its grip and pull you into a kiss.

You melt against his mouth – he knows how to do this. Experience is clear in every moment of his lips upon yours; the way his tongue teases at the seam of your mouth, the way his teeth tug teasingly upon your bottom lip, the way that your jaw stays cradled in his sure embrace.

“You don’t have anything to be afraid of,” he murmurs against your lips, breaking the kiss only the merest fraction of distance. “I just want to see how you touch yourself so I know what you like when I’m the one touching you.”

An embarrassed little squeak falls from your throat.

It’s different, hearing it said aloud - and though it’s not the first time Welt has put forth the idea tonight, something about it still feels decadent and rich and sinful. You look up at him through the fringe of your lashes, your cheeks puffing out (Welt thinks that adorable; everything about you screams inexperience, and . . . a part of him, deep in his chest, roars with pleasure at the idea of being the one who gets to show you and teach you and have you in all of these ways for the first time). He smiles at you encouragingly once more, his thumb rubbing tender circles over your jawline.

“I’ve never . . .” You swallow, heat rushing to the surface of your skin. “I haven’t ever done that in front of anyone, before.”

He raises one eyebrow and lets his smile curl the corners of his lips, always reassuring, always gentle, always patient.

“But you have done it?” He presses, and you squeak again and for a moment he thinks you’re going to bury your face into his chest in embarrassment.

You sit on his bed in nothing but a shirt that is too big for you (a faded cartoon kitten prances across your chest) and cotton underwear patterned with little roses, and Welt thinks he prefers you like this more than he’d enjoy you in lingerie and ribbons and lace. There’s something so real and raw - and yes, unfledged - about you in this manner. There is no pretense about you in this. You squirm under his gaze.

“. . . I’m not entirely innocent, Mr Yang,” you say, and there’s a prim little shadow to your words that has him achingly hard in his own nightclothes. He chuckles at your answer and presses a kiss onto your forehead in amusement, humming slightly as he pulls back to let you have more room on the bed. He walks his fingers up your calf, sending shivers all through your body, the hair standing up on end at the slow, luxurious contact.

Welt touches you like he’s holding himself back - forcing himself to go slow, tension simmering beneath his surface. You know that he holds back for your benefit - that there’s hunger in his eyes when he looks at you like he’d love nothing more than to throw you down onto his bed and have his way with you. Your insides give a twist at the thought; a bolt of heat between your thighs.

Welt has already noticed you’re watering the roses on your pretty cotton underwear.

“You’re playing a very good game of it,” he says, with only a little amused rebuke. “Here. Would it make you feel better if I touched myself too?”

You take a soft intake of breath, eyes flickering up to his - he holds your gaze with a firmness that remains as sweet as he can manage when his instincts are screaming to stop being so patient about all of this.

“Th-that’s something you’d do? Over me?”

“That’s something I’ve done over you,” he corrects you. “More than once, my dear.”

You don’t quite know how to respond to that. Your breath hitches sweetly, and you toss your pretty head as if you can’t quite believe his confession. He continues, just to see you get more flustered - you’re so adorable when you’re nonplussed. And . . . a part of him delights in just how naively you respond to him saying how he has fantasised about you - a reminder of your own chastity. He longs to make you come undone. To ruin you.

“I’ve touched myself and thought about how pretty you’d look split open on my cock,” Welt murmurs, skating his thumb higher on your thigh, leaving a hot trail of desire in his wake. “What you’d sound like when I made you come. The way you’d taste when I bent my head between your thighs . . .”

You gasp softly as his thumb rubs over the seam of your sex, feeling the dampness there. You shudder under his touch for a moment, before you open your mouth and your words escape out in a rush.

“You first,” you say, and it comes out a little more petulant and demanding than you’d meant it to - but Welt doesn’t scold you. He merely quirks an eyebrow at you.

“Why,” he says, “I didn’t know you could be such a bratty little thing.”

Your cheeks heat again, shoulders drawing in, rushing to apologise - but Welt chuckles again and pinches the softness of your thigh to stop you in your tracks.

“Don’t apologise,” Welt murmurs. “I think it’s rather cute.”

“O-oh,” you say, and you wet your lips, your tongue shining pink in the light of his cabin. He wonders how that tongue would feel tracing the veins of his cock - how your pretty lips would look, wrapped around his length, eyes gone wide at how thick he is. A gossamer strand of drool, perhaps, leaking from the corner of your mouth - your tongue licking and suckling at his reddened head like you were enjoying some kind of delicious treat . . .

Time to teach you how to do that later on.

“Well,” you breathe, keeping your eyes firmly fastened on the spot at his crotch where his cock is longing to be freed from the confines of his own nightwear. “Will you? Show me first?” You look embarrassed. “It’s easier for me to . . . touch myself . . . i-if I have something to look at and think about--”

“Have you ever touched yourself and thought of me?” He asks, with a small smile, and your response - the whimper of embarrassment, the way that you avoid his eye - tells him all that he needs to know. “Ah. How flattering.”

“Mr Yang . . .”

His eyes go half-lidded and he sighs, shifting backwards again - reaching to the waistband of his trousers to push them down and free his cock. He lets you look at it - thicker than average, a length he’s never had any complaints about, tip ruddy and ridged with veins that pulse in time with his heartbeat, silvery precome soaking the head - before he gently lets himself take hold of it. It jumps in his hand at the contact.

“I love it when you call me that,” he says. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose, clouded with the heat of the moment - but that just allows you a better view of his eyes, pupils blown wide as he rubs his thumb over the slit at the head of his cock. He sighs.

. . . He’s so handsome. The ravages of age have touched him only lightly; silvery streaks in his hair, fine crow’s feet at his eyes, smile lines at his generous mouth. Unconsciously, you let your own thumbs hook into the waistband of your underwear. You’re a little embarrassed at how it sticks to your cunt as you roll it down your own thighs - the threads of your arousal clinging on, the gusset all damp with your own slick. But Welt’s eyes flicker to it and he sighs again, slowly pumping his hand up and down his shaft.

“Spread your legs for me,” He says to you, voice stern but kindly. “Let me see all of you, pretty thing.”

You bite your lip, but you let him see - urge your thighs apart to reveal yourself fully, cunt wet and dripping onto his bed. You stay very still for a moment, as Welt takes in the view - his sharp eyes caressing every inch of you, learning you as if he intends to know your body by heart. He smiles a secret smile that manages to be at once gentle and predatory as you tremble beneath the intensity of the gaze.

“You don’t disappoint,” he murmurs. “You’re even lovelier in the flesh. Look at how wet you are. Is that all for me?”

You are wet - you’re not sure you’ve ever been this wet before in your life. Even as Welt looks at you, you feel your cunt clench around nothing; an emptiness inside of you that you wish were being filled by Welt’s fingers or his cock or anything at all. Your clit throbs at the exposure to the cool air, sensitive.

You nod shyly, and Welt exhales through his clenched teeth. The hand on his cock remains slow, his pumps purposeful instead of frenzied. As he works his own shaft, more precome bubbles from his tip, and you unconsciously lick your lips at the thought of wrapping your mouth around him.

“Come on,” he encourages. “Let me see how you touch yourself.”

“O-okay,” you exhale again softly, and let one of your hands drift down to between your thighs. It hovers there for a moment nervously, unsure what to do - but you try to let the tension drain from your shoulders, the embarrassment of being so thoroughly studied fade, and you concentrate on what Welt is doing instead. The rhythmic motion of his hand as it works his cock, the way it twitches in his grip at the sight of you. You let two of your fingers dip between the plump lips of your cunt and a whimper falls from your mouth. “S-sorry for being noisy, Mr Yang--”

“Oh . . .” Welt sighs. “Don’t apologise on my account, my dear. You’re very nice to hear after imagining what it would sound like for so long.”

Your fingers slide down to your entrance, slippery with your own slick. You feel yourself pulse at contact as you circle it, huffing out a hot breath.

Welt does not stop touching himself; alternating the slides of his hand on his cock with rubs to his slit, loosening and tightening his grip on his own shaft as he watches you slowly, slowly, slide a finger inside of yourself. He sees that you cling tightly to only one finger; that droplets and rivulets of your arousal ooze out from around the finger. He hears that the noise of your cunt sucking your digit in is indecently loud and wet - you deserve to have something more fulfilling put inside of you. Welt hopes you will allow him, one day, to fill you up more thoroughly.

A soft whine escapes parted lips as you urge your thighs wider and begin to slowly move the finger inside of you. Your other hand moves to part the lips of your sex, fingers in a ‘v’ formation, showing him a tantalising glimpse of your clit and how it stands swollen and hard for attention. He licks his own lips without realising he’s doing it, imagining wrapping them around the little bud and suckling upon it until you cry out, fingers tangled in his hair. How pretty you are.

He wishes he could draw you right now; an erotic tableau for his eyes only, a memory made paper he could return to on lonely nights. You’re so lovely. So much better in the flesh.

You get shy after displaying yourself for him so lewdly; the hand spreading you open dips between your folds and begins to circle your clit instead, rubbing clumsily backwards and forwards on it. A smile plays at his mouth. You may have touched yourself and thought about him, but nobody has ever really taken the time to teach you the finer points of self-pleasure - you’re unsure and awkward, fingers slipping, whimpers falling from your mouth and face scrunching sweetly in frustration that you can’t quite get it to feel as good as you know it could.

That makes him harder; the ball of tension in his stomach draw in tighter. Such sweet naivety, so green to the ways of the world . . . Welt will take great pleasure in finding exactly what motions on your clit have you squealing. What rhythms of your fingers will get you gasping. Teaching.

Time enough for that later. Right now, he watches you - the pump of one lone finger, the awkward rubbing of your clit. The thought of you alone in your cabin with your face in a pillow to muffle your whimpers almost makes him come early.

(He wonders how you prefer to do it, if nobody is watching. Do you lie like this, on your back, fingers delving between the pretty folds of your cunt? Or do you prefer hands and knees, imagining being fucked from behind? Perhaps you slip a pillow between your thighs and dry-hump it until it’s saturated through with your slick, imagining yourself atop of someone. Imagining yourself atop of him.)

He lets you struggle along for a few more minutes, before the sight of your awkward inexperience is just too adorable to bear for a moment longer.

“That’s right,” Welt murmurs, his eyes so focused on you that you feel like they’re burning. “I think you could take another finger, pretty thing. Let me see how you look stretched around something wider so I can imagine my cock inside of you.”

A strangled noise, aroused and bashful, falls out of you but you obey him even so. You press a second finger inside of yourself, and Welt doesn’t fail to notice how it’s a tight fit even like that. How tight would you feel, then, clinging to his cock? How hot and wet and snug would you feel if he were buried inside of you, hips stuttering into you over and over until your insides moulded to the shape of him? The wet squelching sounds of your fingers working in and out of you mix in the air with your laboured panting, the slick sound of his hand over his cock as he works it faster and faster. Unconsciously, he shifts closer to you.

“Mr Yang,” you whine, a pitiful little noise. “I-I’m not going to last very long--”

“Fuck.” He breathes out. His cock jumps in his hand as you speak - you’re so very pretty like this, frustrated and teetering on the edge of your orgasm and embarrassed all at the same time. He isn’t going to last very long either. Just touching isn’t enough any more. “Stay still, pretty.”

He shifts - and you cry out in surprise as he gathers himself on his knees, as he works himself closer to you, using the hand not wrapped around his cock to take the one of yours currently shyly circling your swollen clit. His fingers intertwine with yours as he presses your hand down on the bed - and slaps the head of his cock against your clit.

The intertwined fingertips dig into the roughened flesh of his hand. You whine out again as he continues to pump his shaft, but this time with every movement of his fist the flushed leaking tip of his cock nudges at your clit, mixing his precome with your slick until tears are beading in your eyes. The entire experience is decadent and wet and feels wonderful - your fingers inside of you, Welt’s cock gliding all over the hard nub of your clit. It’s like a scene dropped from a fantasy you’d never let yourself think too hard about.

Your release doesn’t sneak up on you so much as it all falls upon you at once - rushing up on all sides to overwhelm you with heat and pleasure, hot and desperate jolts of electricity as your mouth falls open and you whine and your cunt clenches and tenses around your fingers and your release coats your fingers in an extra gush of wetness. You’re breathing heavily as you come, whining and whimpering filling the air of his cabin.

“Mr Yang-- Welt, please-- I want you to come too--”

The way you say his surname and his forename and the little plea are all too much for him. His own breath labours as his hips stutter, and his cock jumps and jitters and twitches in his grip - and strings of his own pearl release paint your cunt like he’s marking you out as his. He chases the dregs of his orgasm, smearing his release all into your already-wet folds, making a mess of you - but as he does, you just sigh prettily and your fingers squeeze his own where they are entwined and he thinks he could stay here forever.

You’re both silent for a few moments, the air filled with the lightning crack of something changing. You look at one another and think how beautiful the other is, how every moment lives up to the fantasy--

“Mr Yang,” you say, shyly, when your breath has returned to normal. “I’d . . . like for you to know what some of your other fantasies are like. I-in person, I mean. For real.”

He looks at you. His other hand cups your cheek as he pulls your face forward, resting his forehead against yours. A soft smile plays on his lips.

“I would like that very much.”

#writing #hsr x reader #welt x reader #welt yang x reader #welt smut #welt yang smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #not sfw text #its my birthday i bring gift

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hqnqm1 · 1 year ago

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Could I request a nishinoya x reader soulmate au?

fated by thread; from me to you

nishinoya yū x GN!reader

A/N: this took way too long sorry 😥. kinda ooc noya? my first fic so might suck booty, not proofread

“why are you the odd one out?”

it’s a question you’ve been asked your whole life. everyone was fated with the red string of fate, including you. everyone had always found their fated person on the other end of the string. everyone except you. so how come everyone was falling in love, but you’re falling behind?

“the red string of fate is a phenomenon in which soulmates by fate are connected to another by a red thread that is tied around their pinkies. this thread is dull but starts to glow once the pair find each other. sometimes, you may feel your partner moving based on tugging on your pinky. this is an indication that your soulmate is nearby. it is the persons choice if they want to cut their thread for any reason to withdraw pining over their fated soulmate. once cut, the string becomes dull again. this does not affect anything, but is a sign of rejection. this can be undone if the person reties their string with genuine feelings, as their thread can glow again” you read out the information on the book somehow hoping that soon, your ribbon will glow too.

“gah” you grunt out in discomfort. ever since the school year started again, you’ve been feeling constant tugs at my pinky finger. “does my soulmate really like to bother me that much?” you thought.

you gently examine your finger and caress it.

“you alright?” a voice appears suddenly causing you to jump on the spot. you turn to see that it’s your friend, hinako.

“what the hell? you scared me” you lightly berate your friend following a short chuckle.

“sorry~ anyway. are you still up to join a club? i hear it’s mandatory according to the student council” the brunette girl casually speaks.

“i’m not interested…” you bashfully respond.

“well, you’ll have to find a club soon. i suggest you manage the guy’s soccer team! the guys are so hot.” hinako enthusiastically adds as she gives a playful smirk.

“yeah they’re hot, but the soccer team is full of stuck up, filthy rich brats…” you scoff.

“oh! what about the yearbook committee?” she suggests.

“that’s for nerds” you joke slightly to light up the mood.

“oh? then, as a last result, all i can think of is.. the manager for the guy’s volleyball team!” she exclaims excitedly.

stuck in a few thoughts, she continues her sentence with a dreamy expression. “i hear that the guys are so fine… and their manager is stunning too…”

“shimizu? like, the kiyoko shimizu? she’s the manager isn’t she? she’s gorgeous. maybe i can consider it” you take the opportunity into thought. after all, you used to play volleyball until the accident.

_________________________________

you’ve waited hours since that conversation from lunchtime and now you’re currently outside the school gym during after school hours, awaiting the third-year beauty. after what seemed like hours, she finally arrived, looking as stunning as ever.

“hello. i assume you’re here to visit?” a soothing, calm voice projects from kiyoko’s mouth as she radiates a small but welcoming smile.

“o-oh! yes! i’m here to try out for the manager” you blurt out suddenly as your face grows a furious red of embarrassment.

with no ill intent, kiyoko lightly giggles and beckons you to come inside the gym.

inside, you take in the vision of the nets that can easily loom over anyone, the scoreboards, the varnished wooden floors and not to mention, the fine guys.

one by one, they line up. you couldn’t help but find how breathtaking these men were.. that was until.. a special one showed up. black, spiked up hair with a highlighted strand at the front. he wore an orange uniform instead of karasuno’s standard black uniform for home games, indicating that he played libero. sure, he wasn’t the tallest, but did his pretty face make up for it.

that’s when it hit you. your thread ignited in a beautiful crimson luminescence.

in that moment, your heart thumps and throbs, your eyes widen, and you stare in awe. he’s your soulmate?

at first you thought he was approaching you, which made you freeze out of anxiety, thinking about the words to say when he approaches. instead he ran towards kiyoko instead with his friend with a shaven head. you can see kiyoko’s unimpressed demeanour around the two boys as they attempt to woo her.

then he turns to you.

“we must be the luckiest guys in the world, tanaka. to be blessed with these absolutely stunning people to keep coming to us! whatcha here for?” the shorter man smirks flirtatiously. in some way, it made you uncomfortable, but in another way, it made you feel appreciated and loved knowing that this man is your soulmate.

“well, i’m here to have a visit. i’m considering on becoming the next manager for the club” you respond with a constant consciousness to stay calm.

“you hear that nishinoya? they’re gonna be our manager! that’s great. what’s your name, hun?” tanaka asks with that musk voice of his.

“so that’s his name, huh” you thought.

your pulse races and you desperately try to keep your cool. clearly, the facade is breaking by each passing second.

“(name). pleasure to meet you” you hold your hand out.

in that moment, you see nishinoya’s eyes widen the moment he sees that the red threads connect. to your dismay, he doesn’t say a word and looks… disappointed.

he quickly shakes your hand then goes back to training as if the red string was nothing to him. you stand there dumbfounded and hurt. you found your fated mate and this is how the first meeting goes?

he continues to train and even after that disappointing exchange, you couldn’t help but fall in love with him more.

_____________________________________

successfully, you were able to become the manager of the karasuno boy’s volleyball team alongside kiyoko. spring tournament was approaching and you worked hard to prepare the boys for their important event.

training had ended already, the gym was empty, but, the only people that were filling the room were you and nishinoya.

“hey, can you pepper with me? i need to practise my digs” the libero asks you with an aloof and indifferent expression.

you haven’t played in a while ever since the accident that had injured your ankle. you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you didn’t want to reject his offer either. so you transported the basket of volleyballs. you start with a few quick shoulder warm ups, then you toss a volleyball upwards and spike it towards him.

the libero messes up his dig as the ball flies in the opposite direction. he lets out a snarky smirk.

“not bad. you’ve definitely played before” nishinoya retorts and he motions for you to keep going.

the little pepper session got more competitive. when the ball was set to him, he decided to do a feint and tipped the ball causing you to attempt a dive for the ball.

during the moment, unfortunately, you tore a ligament in your ankle from a past injury and you let out a scream of pain.

nishinoya’s stoic and indifferent attitude had dropped once seeing you injured.

“hey! wait! do you need me to take you to the infirmary?” his brows furrow in concern and he runs up to you, examining your ankle.

“yes… it’s just from a past injury..” you wince through the discomfort.

“is it alright if i guide you to the infirmary?” nishinoya asks in a gentle tone.

“that isn’t necessary…” you say bashfully although deep inside you clearly want him to be close to you.

“seriously, (name). you’re injured and you can’t walk” he responds, holding your hand to help you up. that strong, pulsating sensation in your chest appears again as your cheek grow faintly pink. he gently takes your arm to sling it around his shoulder as he guides you to the infirmary.

as he walks you there he makes a comment that flusters you.

“i can’t believe i get to touch the most stunning being i’ve seen right now” he proudly comments, making you flush red in embarrassment.

“hey wait! that was so uncalled for!” you chuckle.

little did you know that he never meant those words.

____________________________________

tournaments finished and unfortunately, they came runner-up to the winners. currently, you’re at the back of the sendai gym, comforting a weeping noya who has his knees tucked to his head.

“hey? noya, you worked hard and did the best you could. that’s more than enough okay? you did your best and i’m so proud of you for that. you know what? one competition doesn’t define who you are.. to me, you’re hardworking, amazing and you always try your best.. this competition may have ended up with you and the guys in second place, but to me, you’re always my number one-“

“I DON’T NEED YOUR PITY OKAY!? THIS? THIS IS JUST STUPID! STOP BABYING ME! YOU JUST WANT MY ATTENTION BECAUSE WE’RE SOULMATES, YEAH? WHY DO YOU THINK I NEVER TALK ABOUT IT HUH? IT’S BECAUSE I HATE THE FACT THAT YOU’RE MY SOULMATE! I WISHED IT WAS SOMEONE ELSE! SOMEONE BETTER, LIKE KIYOKO!” noya snaps out of a fit of rage, leaving you dumbfounded and processing his words. it slowly eats you up and shatters you as you watch him storm away in anger. that was the last time you talked to him until the end of the year.

_____________________________________

it was one of the last training sessions of the year and you carried the tub of the club member’s water bottles to refill them with yamaguchi. the two of you walk towards the back of the gym and hear an exchange going on…

“why wont you go out with me? i did everything for you!” nishinoya cries out in a pained expression.

“i’m sorry, we aren’t meant to be.. i’ve already found my soulmate and it isn’t you.. i hope you find the one you truly love and i hope they make you happier” kiyoko replies with remorse and pity.

“but… it’s you i want… not anyone else… i’ve already cut my red string just to be with you” a gasp falls from kiyoko’s and a eavesdropping yamaguchi’s mouth from nishinoya’s revelation.

for them, it was jaws that fell in surprise, but for you, it was tears that fell in heartbreak. you already knew he despised you ever since the tournament but this? this is too far. your true soulmate had cut the thread and denied you for another woman. you walk away in pain.

“why can’t he just love me back?” you thought.

_____________________________________

you were now in third year, studying hard just to get into your dream university.

lately, you’ve been getting snacks, poems, keychains, plushies galore stuffed in your locker, but never once have you found out who’s been behind all this.

you’ve noticed small blonde hair strands on the plushies. could this be from tsukishima? no, he’s way too cold to like anyone. either way, he’s a jerk so nobody would like him back. but then there were also jet black hairs on the other few gifts. could this be a case of a love triangle where you’re being pined by your juniors, both tsukishima and kageyama? impossible.

but you did know someone that had both hair colours on his head… you didn’t want to assume it was him, and it had been a while since you thought about the man that hurt you.

it was a rainy afternoon and you had just finished tutoring. on the way home, you were considering cutting your part of the thread off. you believed that it wouldn’t matter if the love was unrequited.

you hold your umbrella out to prevent the rain getting to you as you walk down the wet street, the sound of rain hitting the concrete lingering in your ears.

a tap on your shoulder could be felt and you turn around. it’s nishinoya yuu. he looks disheveled and somewhat remorseful? is he here to apologise?

“may i help you?” you ask with a slight pettiness.

“hey, uh… i hoped you liked the gifts i’ve been leaving in your locker… i don’t know if it’s too late for this, but i took you for granted okay? those sweet and genuine words of yours, your consideration for others, the way you care for everyone around you, your kind and gentle demeanour… i can’t help but have fallen in love with it all… especially that one time, those words you said in the tournament got me by, and i just couldn’t accept your love because i was such a jerk and was blind to your love. i want to love you like how you loved me.. i’m so sorry i didn’t treat you like the royalty you should’ve been treated like. i don’t expect you to forgive me after what i did, but will you give me a chance to make it up to you..?” he asks with genuine remorse and regret. he looks you in the eyes with glossy tears threatening to fall down.

you see that he has also attempted to mend the red thread by retying it into a cute bow to try and rekindle what once was. you let out a small smile before you respond.

“maybe i’ll give it another go”

______________________________________

you wake up. was it just a dream? is he really not yours? was it too good to be true?

you look around your room and… ah yes, you see your husband, nishinoya, beside you snoring and sleeping… not so gracefully. but regardless of that, he’s yours, you’re his, and beside your shared bed, resides the crib holding your twin infants, a result of the love you two shared. it seems that the dream was a memory of how it all started.

slowly, your husband stirs awake.

“my love? you’re up early” noya stretches his limbs from his slumber and following that, your children start to yawn and stretch out. he reaches for your hands as your fingers intertwine with his, the red string glowing stronger than ever. you smile gently as you plant a short but loving kiss on his soft lips. you then speak up.

“remember how we first met?”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuuxreader #nishinoya #nishinoya x you #nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya x reader #hq nishinoya #nishinoya yuu #nishinoya yu x reader #yu nishinoya #yuu nishinoya #karasuno #karasuno x reader #hq fluff #hq angst

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