#Also I wanted to keep this series a bit more light hearted and not too angsty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vagabond-umlaut · 6 months ago

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you kiss the back of my legs and i want to cry

only the sun has come this close, only the sun

gojo satoru x wife!reader; tooth-rotting domestic fluff; gojo LOVERBOY™️ satoru; you aren't any better than him [but less poetic abt the predicament]; tw: pregnancy, 1 tiny mention of throwing up; satoru calls you 'cookie'; and he redefines the word besotted here; his thoughts are also a little yandere-ish but tht's cute, methinks; 2.3k wc; i just wish satoru was real and in my arms rn T-T

belongs to the series 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate' but can be read as a stand-alone fic if you wanna

the fic title and summary don't rly hv a very strong connection to the fic plot— except the fact they fit both satoru's & reader's characters in this series to a tee ^_^

fic title and summary from 'gps' by shauna barbosa // header frm pinterest // divider by @/benkeibear // jjk isn't mine

you are clingy.

always have been, in fact, now that gojo thinks about it. long before the two of you were married. long before you were engaged. quite a long time before the two of you were anything apart from friends at best, acquaintances at worst.

yet now, as he feels a pair of arms squeeze tighter around his middle, not really still very much squeezing the air out of him— your husband reckons you've grown loads clingier now—

and he loves you for this. loving you even more when he feels kisses being pressed into the space between his shoulder blades.

soft lips, a tad chapped. not without the shy grazing of your teeth.

just how he likes it.

very much how he adores you.

affection, settled deeper than should be feasible into the hollow of his chest, flutters a little when you nuzzle into his back; that pleased little hum of yours quick to follow it. smiling, gojo turns his head a touch to catch a glimpse of you. it takes a beat before you remove your face to lock eyes with him, before returning your face to his back.

he huffs a chuckle, sounding incredibly fond all the same. his feelings for you can never be suppressed anyway. time has proved this to him enough number of times.

he runs a finger down the length of your arm, relishing how it leaves a line of goosebumps in its wake—

"you wanna tell me something, cookie?" your husband finally asks.

your reply doesn't come immediately. and when it does, it is nothing more than a noncommittal noise. too spoiled. too stubborn. a bit too satisfied as well, the emotion further expressed when you nuzzle his back yet again.

gojo's smile grows bigger. his cheeks hurt a little.

he thinks he can live forever with this kind of pain, not even a sigh of complaint ever leaving him.

"aha—" he exclaims loudly, still soft enough to keep the quiet of this sweet bubble you've pulled you both into, "so it's just my irresistible charm that's making you so clingy tonight, hm?"

another beat passes.

and just when he thinks he might have to do with another one of your indistinct sounds for an answer, you speak. to be more precise, whine and grumble, everything so sweet in your adorable voice.

"it's not me being clingy, 'toru— it's the baby— the baby is making me so clingy. making me feel as if i can't live even for one second without squishing you like thisss!!!"

the first reaction your tightening grasp brings out is the wind getting knocked out of his lungs— the second reaction being all that oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide being replaced by a feeling so fierce and so tender— the strongest thinks his knees would have buckled under its weight had he not been lying down but standing—

not that he really minds that, though.

for you, he's always on his knees. whether you ask it of him or not. the only light in this world he is willing to bow his eyes before.

it takes him not too much effort but gojo makes a point of struggling whilst he shifts in your hold. and grins when he finally comes face-to-face with you, drinking in the way your brows are puckered and lips a little parted in an incredulous expression.

his grin simmers down however, when his six eyes notice the spark in your tummy. so tiny. so blinding. so priceless— to him and you both— he knows this, surer than he is of the scars on his palms.

thumbing the hem of your t-shirt, he hums, dragging his eyes back to be drowned in yours, "how many weeks along are you, wifey?"

"satoru," you start, voice turning sharper and just as skeptical as your face was, still is— only to be shushed by a finger to your lips. the man addressed feels his heart skip a beat at your confused big scowl— it's got to be a crime to be as cute as you— really!!!

he pinches your cheek lightly.

"it isn't like i don't remember that, cookie. i just wanted you to say it— c'mon, tell me quickly!" he presses, noting then utilising the moment your face begins to lose its cynical hue over his words.

the scowl lingers there however, twisting your delectably pretty lips—

"nine weeks," you say, hooking a leg over his waist to pull him closer. can he be any closer to you, though? your answer is always a yes, he knows you well enough to know this.

"thirty-one weeks more before we meet our baby."

it's not exactly thirty-one weeks; it's thirty weeks and five days before either of you can meet the baby, but gojo decides not to point out the error. you always hate it when he points out your tiny errors and make a point of snarking about it every time he opens his mouth to speak a word next— the man is wary not to upset his wife, yes, thank you very much.

he offers a sage "hm" in response, one he observes you accept slowly. the scowl lifts itself into a curve so fond— gojo thinks once before he vaults his next query your way. not wanting to see that smile vanish in front of him—

the ask won't cause anything so. but he can never be too sure. he has read too many books and articles to not grasp how fragile pregnancy hormones can make one be.

he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear.

fingers tarrying there when he sees you lean into his touch— not akin a moth to a bright flame, no. he can never hurt you. not even for once in his wildest dreams—

but how the north pole of a magnet hurries towards the south pole of another magnet. so different in their nature, a perfect pair of opposite crafted by the nature— maybe that's why nothing can ever stop them from rushing to each other once they're proximated, the lines of their mutual attraction existing even when thousands of miles apart.

just like you and him.

contrasting, complementing, completing each other every instant, in every facet of life.

he lets his fingers dance through the tangles in your hair, unravelling the knots in there. that pleased little hum of yours reaches him once again.

stowing the sound away, later to be placed on a pedestal in an ornate glass case as the most valuable praise ever given to him for his effort, he runs a gentle hand, nails scratching your scalp carefully.

"and at nine weeks old, just how big might our baby be?"

"i think there is a chart comparing our baby's size to fruits..." syllables unhurried and a pinch mumbled, you press your heel to draw him in a little more. "i did not really read that too attentively— oh. but. yeah!" a grin forms on your features, sleepy still twinkling in excitement.

"shoko sent me a link to this website earlier today— any ideas, 'toru, what it might be about?"

gojo does have an idea. he has a very, very good idea.

but he chooses not to say that aloud. you look so extremely adorable when you are being this excited. he would hate nothing more than to see your amped up self getting interrupted by him.

he shakes his head. your grin brightens. eyes crinkling with a glint, he can tell even without looking, is knowing.

the tips of your fingers caress his bare back, softer than a breath. "it's about when our baby forms which organs— our baby's eyes are being formed now!!! isn't that too cute, 'toru?"

"it is, cookie," he hums without any hesitation, six eyes activating one more time to zero in on that teeny-tiny spark. then deactivating when he looks back up to your sleepy eyes. a terribly tickled, equally wicked glimmer creeps into his grin. "so our baby is just like a tiny ball of cells with two big blue eyes, huh? they must look so scary, heh— ouch!"

your pinch did not really pain him, but gojo does his best to mimic an awfully wounded puppy, sogging wet from the rain and waiting at the doorstep with his moving blue eyes— it takes less than three seconds before you let go of your glare with a sigh.

you massaging the sore spot on his arm, your husband watches you give yet another sigh.

"first of all, there's no guarantee our baby will have your eye color and not mine, 'toru," you explain, pinning him under your drowsy stare, "it is very difficult to predict that for sure— and secondly: i'll punch you if you ever call our baby scary— sure, they don't really look like a human in this moment, but they'll slowly get there in forty weeks— as per the website, their face, hands and feet are forming in the ninth—"

"okay, alright!! i get your point, my insanely smart, insanely beautiful, insanely sexy wife," gojo cuts in, smiling while warning bells chime in his head at the faintest gloss in your eyes—

but maybe they weren't noisy enough. that is why he doesn't bite his tongue, rather continuing, "but you weren't actually blaming our poor human-ey baby for your clinginess, were you? it's not like they have a telepathic communication set up with you— hell, maybe they haven't even started forming their brain!"

"the baby's brain starts forming by the fifth week, satoru," your quiet reply reaches him exactly when he gets his last giggle out. the moist sheen in your eyes grows more prominent.

and his insides begin to twist—

one-third helpless. two-thirds contrite.

you don't stop talking, tone lower than he has heard you use in nearly forever, "and you better not comment on my bond with our baby— i'll punch you twice if you—"

"i wasn't doing that and i promise to never make you feel that way, my cutie-pie cookie," gojo interrupts, voice far gentler than earlier, just as low as yours, "but feel free to throw me out the house if i ever do that, even accidentally. okay?"

you're not okay.

you never are, when it comes to you being actually harsh to him, even when he's the one asking you to be— shakespeare once called love to be blind— your husband doesn't think you're blind, however. it is your well-contemplated decision to see his mistakes and see each of them as excusable, perfectly pardonable, no matter how silly or serious the world might regard them to be—

you make a noise. somewhat annoyed. unhappy too, yeah. before you push your face into the crook of his neck, nose nuzzling into the flesh there.

you would have bitten him by now. but he reckons you might be a bit too tired for all that. you couldn't even finish your dinner before facing the urge to throw up tonight, yet again.

feeling sorry, almost, gojo resumes his ministrations to your hair, half because you need to fall asleep now; the hands on the clock are close to striking midnight. the other half because he just loves playing with your hair— only to still when you suddenly pull your head back.

brows furrowed as you peer at him, eyes big and earnest.

"you don't really mind when i hug you like this, do you, 'toru?"

"no, cookie!! of course not!!" the man wastes not even a breath before he rushes to explain— because seriously, what!??

sure, he wasn't the first one to fall between you two. but ever since he did fall, he has never not expressed how every second away from you, every fraction of an instant away from you, causes him pain.

and yeah, he might have been a tad too dramatic whilst doing so, but you've always been so good at reading him— then why on earth can't you read him now? why don't you read, he loves it when you seek him out, he loves you more than anyone and anything else??

"good," your satisfied little chirp gives him a light shove away from his frantic thoughts. something tells him he should be put on alert by the way your lips curve into a smug smile next.

but gojo finds himself uncaring. just immensely relieved as he trails his fingers from the back of your head to your chin. thumb reaching out to brush the corner of your infectious smile. you continue.

"but even if you did mind, sorry not sorry— you were the one who put the ring on my finger, so you have to deal with everything i'm, mister!! no refunds nor complaints can be filed here, gojo-san~"

and neither refunds nor complaints he wishes to file, satoru muses to himself as he cups your cheek in one hand. bending down to steal the taste of your beam, your tease, your love for him on his tongue—

not when he has received the world in exchange for letting go of that poor splintered mess of a heart, he used to call his, but is now yours.

and will always stay yours—

"hey 'toru— what will you do if i chomp on your fingers right now, like really hard? will you yell? or will you be the freak that you're and enjoy it, huh?"

gojo pauses.

and wonders.

is there any binding vow one can make to secure oneself to another in every lifetime, for all eternity?

he hopes there is.

your husband really, seriously hopes there is—

'cause no way in heaven, earth or hell, does gojo satoru want to let go of you— and he will not let go of you.

this idea was ROTTING in my brain for ages, but wht gave me the spark– the boost to write this was the wonderful sukuna fic written by ari @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat ❤️❤️❤️ i seriously love u & ur writings sm, babes 🥹🥹 everyone pls go check their masterlist out. it's studded w diamonds and pearls 😌😌🥰

and this is also for my sweet & sour bestie mimi @avatarofstars 🤭🤭— u 🤝 me in being clingy af towards our fictional hubbies 😂😂🥰

hope this was an enjoyable read! pls don't plagiarise, translate or repost this ❤️❤️

masterlist

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

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kcrossvine-art · 8 months ago

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Hi fellow adventurers!! A few weeks ago i caught wind of "Delicious in Dungeon". I'm not really an anime person, but I am a TTRPG, CRPG, and cooking person- . And holy shit. It is so good i convinced my partner to binge read the whole thing. I'm caught up on dungeon meshi, the anime, and just yesterday i also finished dungeon meshi, the manga.

Its rare to come across a serialized story that is so thematically cohesive and knows its characters so well. All of the bonus content like the artbooks and monster tidbits are just the icing on top.

So, inspired by Ryōko Kui's writing and illustration I'm going to attempt to create a recipe for every single Delicious in Dungeon recipe!-

Today that means Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot is on the menu!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is one of the pricier dishes until we get to the kelpies and dragons of the menu-

Rock lobster tail

Porcini mushrooms

Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus

Small potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water

OPTIONAL: your choice of dipping sauces

There was a crossover/promotional event in Shibuya which featured various realworld dishes from the series. They had one for Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom, but they used prawns. while those cook better in a hotpot, they also didn't look enough like the scorpion for me, they also used udon noodles for the slime and a seaweed/kale(?) mixture for the algae. If you're looking for substitutes due to price or availability i would start with those ingredients.

AND, “what does a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKI hope Senshi would forgive me for technically cooking the lobster outside the pot, once he tastes it.

Okay im always partial to veggies but wowowowowowowoowowowow the snow fungus and the mushrooms tasted soooooooooooo good in the lobster stock

A nice delicate layering of different flavors

Try to get a bite with the lobster meat and shiitake together, dip in butter then chili- trust me

Its up to you what texture you prefer if you want to put the noodles in at the end or put them in halfway through the meal. Either way dont go for eating those first as theyre very filling

I think this would pair well with a citrus drink, something light and clarifying

This would also pair well with being extremely high and hungry (if you feel safe cooking while inebriated lol) very calorically dense

For the trial run I did one lobster tail in the pot with everything else, and one lobster tail off to the side to be picked apart. The former is more in spirit with a hotpot, but it got rubbery as the meal went on and lost its nice taste. The latter may be a bit more work but all you have to do still is boil it and set it aside. I found it held up much better. It was also easier to get inside the shell.

. If you have hardshell maine lobster available, i think it would be superior to rock lobster (keep in mind crustaceans will get rubbery if cooked too long in the pot) . Green onions and/or lotus root would make excellent additions

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From getting the ingredients out to sitting down and eating, id say it took maybe 30 minutes max? It'd vary on how fast you can prep vegetables and get the various implements heated.

Hotpots are not something i do very often as i'm usually just feeding myself. I think thats why a hotpot makes perfect sense to start the series off. If you want to set the tone of "take care of yourself, eat food with others, and use what you have" (generally speaking) there is nothing more simplistic, flexible, and defeats-the-purpose-if-you-eat-it-alone than a hotpot. Gather around and let your friends bring ingredients to the pot if you want to fill your heart up extra full <3

I'm doing something different here because unlike previous recipes where i used a bunch of different sources and made my own recipe out of hodge-podging it, or just used another persons recipe entirely if they did it really well, i made this more whole-cloth based off of what i had available, what I could discover through research, and my existing knowledge. Instead of the recipe being 50/50 original, this one is more 20/80. So. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys :D

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

2 Rock lobster tails

3 Porcini mushrooms

2 Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus (a good handful, should rehydrate in the hotpot)

2 Small waxy potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water/lobster stock

Method:

Lightly rinse all of your vegetables beforehand and let them dry.

Vertically slice the porcini mushrooms. Cut off and dice the stems of the shiitake mushrooms. You can slice the tops if youd like.

Peel and cube the potatoes, roughly an inch each.

For the lobster tails; Boil a pot of salted water. Keep the shell on. Weigh the largest tail and add 1 minute of cooking time for every ounce of weight.

When done, strain the lobster from the water. Pour the water into your hotpot as the base. Serve the lobster on the side so people can pick the meat out to dip into the hotpot.

Bring the hotpot to a simmer. Add the potato cubes, snow fungus, mushrooms, and noodles.

OPTIONAL: this wasnt in the show, but its fun having sauces on the side :) i had oyster sauce, dry seasoned chili dip, melted butter, and soy sauce available

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #cooking #digital art

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kithtaehyung · 4 months ago

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lollipop (3tan) (m) | myg

title: lollipop (m) | part one: summer bbq pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) | broken (pt. 2) rating/genre: m (18+) ; fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after the summer cookout ends, you say goodnight to your brother and his best friend. but the latter just had to have a lollipop in his mouth… and had to make you aware of it hours later. note: this is part two of the three tangerines drabble summer bbq! undisclosed whether these are in the main storyline or not, so it’s a standalone for now. note 2: also..... hope y'all read this in private :))) hahahah warnings: yoongi is the biggest warning, but reader almost inches him out here🤭, no joke we may need to form a new line for reader, kissing, hella kissing, a mirror makes an appearance.. 🫣, tense situations, tender moments, lollipop gets its own warning i’m so serious, cocky yoongi lolll explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: july 22nd, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 7.3k💀💀💀

explicit warnings: food play (just roll with it😂), oral sex (m/f rec), masturbation, the struggle to keep quiet is real, mirrors are involved lord have mercy, spanking, breast play, multiple orgasms, yoongi hands, choking, fingering, face f*cking, titty shotsss, a little bit of manhandling and roughness but we love it🤭🤭, aftercare and cute cute reader afterwards

—

It’s not long until you’re snuggled under your covers, every limb in your body relieved to be at rest. From getting ready, cooking for hours, to general host duties—all while trying to avoid sin in human form—you’ve completely exhausted your living battery.

But for some reason, sleepiness is out of reach.

Tiredness? For sure. But sleep seems to elude you, and you toss and turn before giving up and turning your television on.

It’s after you get through two episodes of something random and endless doomscrolling that you get a text.

From the last person that should be texting you right now.

And your heart slams on every brake it has.

Yoongi [2:37am]: You up?

Umm.

What.

Why is he asking you that? It’s quite possibly the worst time and type of message to receive right now.

Don’t overthink it. He probably just needs extra hands to drag your brother back to his room again.

You [2:37am]: mmhmm

You [2:37am]: you need me for something?

With a sigh, you rest your phone by your side.

The last time that happened was so long ago. Back when you were fighting off sickness and absentmindedly grabbing tangerines to snack on.

You wonder what that man wants this time around.

Yoongi [2:37am]: Haha nah

Yoongi [2:37am]: Just curious

Well that’s interesting.

Is he still in the backyard? Somewhere in the house? You knew he was staying over, but is he in the guest room with Jimin lying down like you are?

Why is that making your soul squeeze?

You [2:38am]: yeah i am. can’t sleep :\

After hitting send, you feel more awake than ever, staring at your ceiling changing hues from the light of your tv.

It kinda hurts knowing Yoongi’s the closest he could be tonight.

On one hand, you still remain feeling safer than ever, having all of them here. But on the other, you’d much rather Yoongi be right next to you, heart beating under the same covers and eyes covering you in moonlight.

He’s so close and yet…

So damn far.

Yoongi [2:39am]: Same.

Your arm slings right over your eyes.

How is one word from him enough to make your legs shift? That is something that needs to be studied, but alas, you would only be the subject if someone paid you for it.

What do you say now? You miss him so much it practically hurts? You want him to be lying next to you even though it’s the riskiest thing in the world?

Maybe start slow.

You [2:40am]: did you have fun today?

Shit, was that a little too slow? Abnormal? It’s not like you two have as much small talk as other people. Though you wouldn’t mind any type of talking with him at all, casual small talk just isn’t on the list of defaults.

When you check the next text you get, it’s hard to keep your phone from falling onto your face.

Yoongi [2:42am]: I’ll tell you if you open the door :)

Huh.

So much for starting slow what the fuck!

You [2:43am]: ???

You [2:43am]: front door?

Yoongi [2:43am]: Yours

There have been many times in which this man has made you speechless. Some just for being so heartstoppingly handsome; others for being the most considerate person you’ve ever met.

But this time?

You can’t even form all the reasons why you can’t form words.

You [2:44am]: ?????

Yoongi [2:44am]: 🤨

Yoongi [2:44am]: Feel like this is pretty easy stuff, doll

What is happening? What possessed your brother’s legitimate ride or die to stand at your door while still in the same house? When other people are also staying over?

You’re so close. He’s right there. You can see a slight shadow underneath the wooden frame and it’s making your stomach silly.

But you have to be sure.

You [2:45am]: is he asleep?

Yoongi [2:45am]: Yeah he’s out

Getting up, you already miss the warmth of your sheets as you tiptoe towards the only thing separating you from the man you’ve yearned for all day long.

Fuck. If this isn’t the worst decision you’re ever gonna make in your life.

But damn it, you already knew you were gonna let him in as soon as he asked.

After checking what you’re wearing before knowing it doesn’t matter, you open your door while fearing what it reveals.

And Yoongi slowly enters through the night—freshly showered, still studded with jewelry, and decked in clean clothes while dirtying your mind to hell.

Because of the goddamn lollipop in his mouth.

“What’s going on,” you whisper, knowing your brother could wake up at any second. Maybe. Possibly. Everything bad is always possible when you’re paranoid about it—especially since Yoongi is in your room! “What are you doing?”

Your secret wastes no time as he quietly shuts and locks the door, hair shifting down his head in damp waves as he takes out the sucker,

“This.”

Silent, he pulls you in slow for a kiss, melting you down with ease. When he presses you into one of your walls, you know the only thing propping you up is his pelvis molding with your front.

Already, your senses are on high alert, wondering how long Yoongi plans on staying because as much as you want him here forever, you still want him in one piece.

But it’s getting hard to concentrate on consequences and scenarios when this man is infiltrating your every thought. His lips feel like summer and his fragrance reminds you of spring, and you immediately know it’s that subtly scented body wash you picked to put in the guest bathroom.

Strange. You both have now used each others’ soap and showers. That has to mean something intimate, right? How many people can say that about one another and not look into it too much?

Well, he technically hasn’t used the shower in your bathr—

“You looked great today,” Yoongi whispers into your neck.

His kiss there renders you speechless for what seems like eons. Today. Uh huh. What were you thinking just now? “Thank you,” you finally sigh, relishing in the way he’s holding your side. “So did you.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean.. You always do, so. Nothing new there.”

Yoongi quietly huffs a laugh before tugging your hips. But he doesn’t say anything in return, and you wonder if he didn’t have an answer or just didn’t feel the need to.

So your nerves fill the space again. “Is it weird that I missed you? You were here the whole time.”

“Mm.” His kisses traverse up your shivering throat, and his raspy answer has your eyes fluttering shut, “I get that.”

Fuck, you can’t deal with him. “Is.. Is that so..”

“People miss me all the time.”

A snort. “Ass.”

Yoongi immediately laughs into your skin. “But they aren’t here now, are they?” When you don’t respond with anything substantial, he squeezes the side of your ass. “Are they.”

“No,” you hitch out. “But you shouldn’t be here, either.”

“Tell me to leave then.”

Shit. You can’t. You both know you can’t. You try so hard to stifle a moan when you feel Yoongi grip an asscheek, his lips finding your ear at the same time he gives a firm smack.

“Do it, doll.”

“I…” Fuck, he’s surrounding you and there’s no way no way out. “I can’t.”

“Good.” Yoongi then slides your hand from his side down to his legs, placing it on his very big, very hard length. “Cus I can’t fucking stay away from you.”

You grip him through his pants, pleased when he moans deep. “What if he wakes up?”

“He won’t,” your handsome rebel purrs. “Drank for hours.”

“You sure?”

“Course I am.” Yoongi slides a finger along the outline of your breasts. “He tried to keep up and lost.”

“Typical.”

He keeps doing exactly what you want him to do. It’s quite scary how well he knows your body now, but you’d also like to think you have a good level of knowledge with his.

Especially when you reach up to twist his nipple.

A groan mixed with dark chuckles has your knees shaking, and you prolong it by doing something else you know—or think you know—he likes,

“I think you’d like it if I kicked you out now.”

The volcano inside Yoongi rumbles. “Is that so?”

“It is,” you huff out in mock triumph, loving how his cock twitches against your hand. “Or am I wrong?”

He flicks his eyes to yours before holding a gaze. A look so telling, and full, and searing. When his mouth flicks upward, he admits,

“I’d love it.”

Laughing as softly as you can, you stop to simply hug him. Leaning forward until your head rests, feeling the most at home and happy hearing his own amusement vibrating through his clothes.

And just like that, you’re conflicted.

What the hell are you doing? Even though passed out and sloshed, your brother could still wake up. It’s not like he’s totally gone. And if he catches his best friend in your room? There’s no telling what damage could be dealt.

Actually, the damage could be told in gruesome detail.

But the way Yoongi’s filling the distance from today, you really don’t want to stop. In fact, you don’t even want to pretend to shoo him off.

So this is your first step onto a precarious, unpredictable tightrope. A step you are very okay taking.

“Babe?”

Shit, you got lost again. When you find your way back, Yoongi’s concern materializes at once,

“If you really aren’t down—”

“Fuck it.”

Your kiss digs into his face so hard you strike gold, rewarded with a growl so potent it disrupts your core. Lightning zaps through your veins at the hands squeezing your hips, and you buck with a desperation that’s been stockpiling all day long.

Sliding along the wall, you notice that Yoongi tastes like alcohol and sugar, and you wanna lick every crevice you can reach, drunk off his cockiness and audacity alone.

It’s no use fighting this. He’s really in your room, making out with you like a demon while the house is filled with your brother’s sleeping friends.

Fuck, you two could really get caught here.

The swirl in your belly keeps you on your toes, transforming your movements into sharp, hasty tugs on his clothes, hemlines, hair. You’re practically acting like you’ve never had him before and want to make up for all those missed opportunities.

Not like it’s any different every time.

But you’re quelled by a calm hand on your wrist. “As much as I like you like this,” Yoongi whispers across your cheek, “You can’t be too loud, baby girl.”

Your silent question must’ve escaped past your teeth. Because you hear a deep chuckle before shivers run down your spine,

“If you aren’t quiet enough I’m gonna fix that.”

Oh. Fuck.

“I didn’t even know I was talking,” you admit, body creasing in embarrassment and a bit of nervous laughs. Your grin cannot be contained by the fingers you slide up to cover it. “Oh, my god.”

“What?” Yoongi’s devilish look is even more potent in the flashing lights of your television. “You serious?”

When you scrunch in deeper admittance, he flashes teeth with a wider smile than yours. It’s a prelude to the way he launches your heartbeat, his scent mesmerizing and his fingers lethal on the back of your neck.

“Adorable.”

You groan into his swooping kiss, the rush of a thousand rivers carrying you to bliss. Breaths intertwined, the pair of you can’t seem to part until Yoongi accidentally shoulders something at his side.

Your mirror? When did you both travel so far that you got here?

He lets off with a pop to steady the wavering furniture piece, pausing to make sure it’s stable before looking at the movie playing nearby.

And you watch in curiosity as he backs further into your room, eyeing himself in the mirror while slotting the sucker back into his mouth.

God. How did you forget he was still holding that?

And why can’t you move even as he turns around, even as he glances at the tv, even as he sits on the edge of your bed?

Move. Walk. Do something!

In the end, you can’t.

Because Yoongi’s stare alone gives you first time jitters, like you’ve never even conversed or much less slept with him before.

How the fuck are you gonna get through the night?

Swallowing and shooting one more look at your door, you pad your way to him, knowing he sees your nipples poking through your shirt and assuming there’s not much else you’re wearing.

And he’s right.

As you stop at Yoongi’s knees, you watch as he gives the lollipop another slow suck, groaning at the red smeared across his tainted lips.

That’s it. It’s decided. There’s no way you’re making it out alive.

“Get up here.”

Obliging but unhurried, you mount his lap, your heart skipping at the way he enjoys your shirt riding up your thighs.

So that damn sucker is gonna stay in his mouth?

Min Yoongi is your enemy tonight.

Your nemesis, in fact. Even if he slides both free hands up your ass like that fuck he squeezes so expertly. Fuck.

It’s keeping everything in you to hide your moan, your head falling forward as he slightly lifts you to drop you onto his comfy sweats.

When he chuckles in your ear, your muscles lock. And when he pops the lolly out of his mouth, you crumble at his mercy. “You were lucky to be off-limits today, doll.”

“What…” You tense at another grip to your ass. “What do you mean.”

As you eye the silver around his neck, Yoongi’s smirk pours weight on your legs. “If you weren’t? There’s no telling what I would’ve done.”

You don’t think you’ve ever gulped so deeply. What toe-curling secrets is he hiding? Today could have gone a much, much different route depending on what he’d spill. “Tell… Tell me anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

The man below you huffs quick, and you watch the corner of his mouth lift at a dangerous angle. “Would’ve kept you in that bathroom,” he divulges, voice dragging across the rattled surface of your brain. “Bent you over the sink.”

Your breath hitches when he gets close, lips caressing your ear but words striking through your chest, “Just so you could watch me fuck you in that sundress.”

“Fuck.”

“Uh uh,” Yoongi coos, chuckle so, so deep. “Quiet, baby girl.”

“I just…” It’s already hard to think around this demon of a person. But it’s even more difficult when he’s got your ear in his teeth. “Wait.”

As he pulls away, the light of your television highlights his features. And you find that this specific, comforting look of attentiveness is what attracts you the most.

Now that you can think clearly, you remember exactly what you were gonna do. It’s simple but significant nonetheless.

Because your dress from today is in the laundry already. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have another one. Another very particular one he may remember, in fact.

“Go over there,” you whisper, smile wide as you dismount. “Turn around.”

When he wordlessly asks what you’re up to, a single finger presses against your lips before you assure, “Just trust me.”

The way his brows scrunch makes your cheeks hurt as you watch him get up and swivel, endeared by the casual lean on your wall and the lollipop stuck in his cheek. Just as his head falls in waiting, you slip into your closet, darkness getting even darker as you enter.

Due to an afterthought, you pop your head out. “No peeking in the mirror.”

“Uh huh.”

Satisfied, you go back to your lightless search.

You know exactly what you’re going for. It’s too easy for you to locate your chosen piece of clothing before stripping and changing as orderly as you can.

Okay. This is okay because you’re alone, right? No one else is here. Technically. Okay.

As you make your way out, a million nerves pop and fizzle under moonlight. The air surrounding your bare shoulders proves charged. Electric enough to send shivers down to your pedicured toes.

Composing yourself before you break, you softly catch his attention as you eye the sucker poised in his fingers,

“Ready.”

The moon waits.

Your breath follows.

And when Yoongi turns, you know you’ll never forget this moment. It feels exactly like the time in that restaurant long ago, but more potent. Shimmering.

Because you’re wearing the same sundress he witnessed you in on the night of Dom’s party.

And you’ve never been so delighted to see the stars in his eyes go dark.

You expect him to call you over. Whether with words or not, you’re gonna do whatever he wants—because it’s what you want… too…

Yoongi’s aura billows as he closes the distance himself. No words. No gestures. Just step by breath-taking step, air around him so charged and commanding that your knees threaten to buckle.

For reasons you won’t admit, your mouth can’t even create sounds. All you want to ask is if he likes the dress, or if he even cares you aren’t as dressed up as before.

Of course he wouldn’t give a single shit. But you can’t stop yourself from these thoughts just yet.

Swallowing, you stare as he rolls the sucker in his mouth, eyes in no other direction but yours. “You, umm. Does this one work instead? The other one is in the—”

Quick isn’t fast enough to describe what’s happening, your shoulders pressing into the nearest wall as your lips get consumed by lust and possession. Everything in your body tingles, and for a split second you wonder how Yoongi managed to swing you around so swift with barely a sound.

Stars fly from your eyes before they slip shut, pouring want onto his veins as he circles strong arms across your waist. Sparks erupt the scant distance between your hips and his, and you are once again reminded why you feel so high-strung.

There are so many people staying over. Not just Yoongi and Jimin. From what you can recall, at least ten people are passed out around the house, any of which could wake up for a bathroom break or something at any second.

And yet. You will not tell this man to leave. Truthfully, this is exhilarating and all you’re doing is ki—

“Get down there.”

Oh, fuck.

This is the new point of no return.

If you do this, not only will Yoongi be a goner, but so will you. Both of you would never, ever come back from this.

But that fucking lollipop…

Screw everything to hell.

Your smile grows with his, lip bitten in the throes of your newfound excitement. You already feel how rock solid he is through his pants, and you make it a point to stroke him on the way to the ground.

There’s so little room that your ass skims the wall, your chest the second part to slide along his covered length and causing him to groan out a curse.

Is there a shift here? Did you change the whole dynamic with one move? Maybe you’re the one with the power now.

“Look at me.”

Ah. Maybe not.

Obedient, you stare upward, catching the fire in Yoongi’s eyes as he gives the sucker one more pass in his mouth.

God, he makes it look so enticing. It’s just a piece of candy but you’ve never been this desperate to have one, too. Or be the one treated with his tongue like that goddamn does he have to make it seem so erotic?

With a pop, Yoongi releases the stick, lips shiny and tainted in the television lights. When he lowers it, you realize it’s descending—farther and farther—until it stops in front of your face.

And shivers overtake you.

“Suck.”

Well. You’ve never done something like this before. In all the relationships you’ve been in, you have never experienced anything like this. Much less in your own house.

Which makes your eyes flare and the monster in your belly rumble, fire hissing from its nose and prying your mouth open to do exactly what you were told.

“That’s my girl.”

Sugar coats your tongue immediately. Glowing, the heat in your core stokes embers, warning with each loll, each cave of your cheeks. You treat the candy so tenderly Yoongi will deny jealousy, and your lips pucker and puff with a sheen.

Are you glistening as much as his eyes? Are you causing him as much grief as he has put you through?

You damn well hope so. Yoongi isn’t the only one that’s gonna unleash his needs from the whole day.

So you keep sucking with closed eyes, swirling your tongue around the lolly and licking it just how you would his tip. It tastes like sweet rebellion, but also late nights with your friends. And with a fleeting thought, you know said friends would grill you if they ever found out this was happening.

Maybe Tae would just laugh his ass off.

Fuck, this is so unbelievably risky. Your door is locked, sure. But the guest room is still very much missing an occupant and one look in there and at Yoongi’s car in the street would cause an eruption.

Through the haze of your thoughts, you hear shuffling and a low droning grunt.

With one glance, you know Yoongi is crumbling. The shadowed promises under his bangs make you preen, and you remain on the precipice of anxiousness and glee.

“Keep that tongue out for me.”

Clearly, he doesn’t give a shit about risk.

So gladly, you oblige, flinching when the lollipop is replaced by something you’re much more familiar with, and your eyes bat on instinct as you know exactly what to do with this one.

When did he shove his pants down? Were you that lost in your sticky treat that you didn’t even notice?

Doesn’t matter. You feel his beautiful weight on your stained tongue and it’s second nature to pleasure. When you grab hold of his base, you give one more suck before popping him out of your mouth to lick down.

For someone that’s been shushing you, Yoongi’s groan is not quiet, and you pause just in time to see him grit his teeth with a nose scrunched to hell.

And his attention is sideways. What is he…

Oh. Fuck.

You can see yourself in your mirror on the other wall.

Is that… you? The one looking back with a visage so arousing your breath stops? If this is the person that Yoongi brings out you actually feel your confidence inflate like a parade balloon.

“So fucking hot.”

When you laugh in shyness, his eyes slide shut in agony as he rakes through his hair. Crumbling inside, you offer a compliment of your own,

“You’re so unfair when you do that.”

Yoongi has the audacity to grin wide as he grips his long strands. “This?”

“Ugh. Whatever.” You wanna smack that smirk right off his face.

So you keep going, loving the way his walls and defenses are back to shattering at your knees. From your inappropriate level of experience with his cock, you go for what you know. Licking his underside, swirling around the tip, sucking just the first bit, gathering spit all over before taking him in deep.

The smells around you coalesce into something potent. With the fruitiness of the lolly and the headiness of Yoongi, it’s pure bliss in your nostrils and you soak it all in. There’s no pause in your sucking, licking, tugging him rough. You’re giving it your all and feeling the effects between your legs.

Suddenly.

Huffs litter around your sundress as Yoongi yanks himself out, sticking the sucker in your mouth again while holding your head. And his smile puts devils to shame when he scoffs, “Unfair, my ass.”

You giggle, sliding the pop up and down your outstretched tongue before slowly pushing it in. When you watch one of his veiny hands grip his cock, your brain resets and rewires, prompting you to be a little bit more daring.

As if this whole situation wasn’t daring enough.

You coyly slide one of your sundress straps down your arm, slowly revealing the top of a breast before going for the other side. Not enough to show everything. But enough to give him a much better view from above.

And the sound you hear in response causes pulses between your legs,

“What the fuck.”

Satisfied, you ride this high of praise and keep diligently sucking on the lolly, watching him pump himself until you can’t can’t can’t take it anymore.

It all happens in quick succession, your hand outright slapping the lollipop out of his hand before grabbing for him, shaky fingers knocking into his slick ones before slipping his dick in your mouth.

“Shit—”

His scent captures your nostrils as he bucks forward, knocking your throat and causing your gag to hit the wall. When you keep sucking, Yoongi grabs your chin, chains swaying as he rocks in, out, in, out again.

Drool and spit cover your neck, seeping onto his fingers as he keeps them where he wants. Imagining how you look in the mirror makes you moan, and imagining Yoongi watching everything from his view makes your cunt leak onto your thighs.

Fuck you wanna watch, too. What does that say about you? You’re legitimately jealous that you can’t see yourself taking Yoongi so deep he’s cursing in strings.

When you choke, it’s disgustingly loud, so he has to pull out once again just to command, “Quiet.”

“Ye—”

He’s shoved back in before you can finish one syllable, back out after a single suck before he drives his point home, “Understand?”

“Y—”

Your words are pushed down your throat again, the intensity Yoongi’s exuding rolling your eyes back and shaking your muscles. Spent and unable to speak, you nod around him, and your arms are suddenly gathered against the wall until you’re fully flushed, held up by one of his strong hands.

“Good girl.”

You brace yourself for his complete control, dick sliding down your throat and pushing tears out of your eyes. Breathing through your nose, you keep your tongue flat, taking him in until your full body gag alerts him to pull out.

As soon as he does, you buckle straight towards the mirror, eyes bursting with shock as you drink in the man watching your heaving, shimmering chest.

“This is what you do to me, doll.” When you shift your attention upward, you gulp at his smile of pride. “Can you stand?”

“I…” Holy shit, he fucked the voice right out of you. “I think so.”

“Here.”

You place your hand in his, muscles in your legs stinging at the change in position. When you go slow, Yoongi lets you, and your lips curve tenderly at the way he kisses you at your peak.

“You almost made me come,” he whispers, chuckling when you watch his eyes. “Fuckin’ hustler.”

“You didn’t want to?”

“Not yet.” Winking, Yoongi gives you another peck before getting close.

As you look in the mirror, you catch the way he kisses along your neck, his hair tickling your skin and his arms bent as he holds yours. It��s almost enough to make you feel higher than royalty, now knowing what it looks like to be feasted on by a king.

“Promise me something,” he rasps.

“Anything,” you whisper in confidence.

“It’s your turn now.” Another kiss to your ear makes you flinch. “But if you’re too loud that’s all you get.”

Bold statement coming from the guy that couldn’t stay silent. But you’re far too gone to dwell on the past so all you can do is nod in understanding. You need this. After today? You really fucking need this.

Yoongi tucks himself back in his sweats before kissing your neck again, lips leaving a trail along the tracks left by your own actions. When he gets to your chest, he gets to unwrap another treat, slowly peeling your dress down to suck on a nipple.

You almost cut the whole thing short.

A hand flies up over your mouth, and you watch your face twist in anguish in the glass. Sparks tingle from where Yoongi slides his tongue, and seeing this man in action from another viewpoint launches you across the edge instead of right to it.

You’re gonna get yourself caught. There’s no way you aren’t crying out by the time he’s done but goddamn you’ve got to keep it toge—

Deft fingers rub your other nipple, causing your body to jump forward and Yoongi to chuckle into your chest. After he squeezes, you watch as he pops off your tit. “What’d I say.”

This is the hardest thing you’ve ever done!

You can only shake your head, hand still preventing your mouth to move and your throat stinging from suppressed screams.

“That’s what I thought,” Yoongi quips before kissing the rest of your dress downward.

And the fucker didn’t even look back at the mirror. Like he already knows exactly what he looks like or doesn’t care in the slightest. All he’s focused on is you and you alone, and you’re so enamoured that you watch his head below you, too.

Calmly and surely, Yoongi lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing along your skin and gripping you tight. When he lifts a brow upward, you nod downward, bracing yourself for him to notice something else you had planned to show.

Works like a sinful charm. His reaction could be felt better than seen.

Because as soon as he notices that you don’t have any underwear on, Yoongi pours out dark amusement before giving your cunt the deepest kiss it’s ever felt.

A mewl smushes into your fingers as you cave, eyes shutting so tight as he eats you out like a man starved and never satiated.

His licks hit just right, and the way he tongues you causes stars to pierce your eyes through. Over and over and over, Yoongi is merciless in how he pleasures, and your esophagus burns and burns and burns.

Both your legs quake as he slips a finger under his tongue, and your eyes fly open just in time to see yourselves in the mirror again.

Holy fuck.

You’ve always known this man was attractive. Overwhelmingly so, in fact. But seeing him on his knees and knowing it’s not a dream makes you so dizzy your brain can’t keep up.

Yoongi’s hands flex on your skin with each minuscule grip, and his hair bunches as he moves between your legs. Your thigh covers his face, but maybe that’s for the best, because you don’t think you could handle watching his tongue while feeling it inside.

“So fucking wet,” he hisses out before diving in again, and you use your other hand to grapple a chunk of his drying hair. “Fuck.”

Yes, keep going. He’s so close to making you come you squeeze even harder. By now, your whole upper body is burning with unreleased yells and your lower body is suffering just as much. He’s too good. Way too good for a quiet house.

You can’t hold it in. You can’t you can’t you can’t.

“Yoongi, please”—your legs start to twinge with want and pending release—“Gonna come, I—”

Everything snaps as soon as he reaches to grope your ass, tugging you forward to lick a spot that has you vibrating like mad.

And your orgasm is so potent that your knees legitimately buckle, your body slipping with no purchase before you catch yourself on the wall. Waves hit you from all directions and you let out one yelp before you feel a moist hand clamp over your lips.

Oh, he’s standing now. Oh, he’s fingering you. Oh fuck, he’s talking you through your orgasm and you can’t understand him but your body reacts either way.

“—another one for me.”

Your pulses wreck your body into angles, each one shifting into another as your mouth is still covered. Yoongi’s fingers prove fatal as he leads you into a second paradise, and you cry into his hand as you come into his other—harder, stronger.

“Just like that, doll, fuck.”

Tears stream down your cheeks again as you lift, soaring into the summer skies and leaping over sleeping souls. It’s too much to keep inside. Too powerful to not let out all at once.

“—this fucking dress.”

You don’t know what’s being said. Nor do you care. Your body is so spent from the vicious tempest and all the energy leaves you at once.

“Uh uh.”

What.

“One more for me,” Yoongi goads. “And you’re gonna watch this time.”

Your chest beats and beats as his fingers pump slow, and your head lolls to the side as you catch sight of your salacious act in the mirror.

Immediately, you know exactly why he said that. Watching the way his arms bulge with effort is encouragement enough to stay upright. With each thrust, you can see your dress hitching with your arches, and Yoongi dives into your neck to strike lightning.

“Baby—” You feel it. You feel a third wave incoming and its crest seems higher than the rest.

“Come for me,” he whispers, his dark bangs peeking from behind your neck in the mirror and his throat stretching out. “And don’t fucking scream.”

Fuck! Your hand grips your mouth so bad it will leave soreness. But water pulls you under and twists you like a ragdoll. Unlike the other times, this orgasm quivers your legs to the point where Yoongi teases. And he can’t stop praising you for being naughty, for letting him in here, for letting him destroy you while everyone’s here.

“I love it,” you whoosh out into his throat, voice cracked and chipped. “Fuck, I love it.”

“I know you do.” Another deep set of laughs. “You’re a problem.”

Head lolling forward, you slowly slip right into Yoongi’s arms before he helps you stand. “Come on,” he leads, walking you a short distance to your bed before chuckling at your cartoonish collapse.

Some moments pass. One, two, four or five more. Even the room seems to swim a little in your vision when you struggle to open your eyes.

Finally, after breathing hard, you can only manage a gravelly, “Holy shit.”

Yoongi laughs soft before wiping your forehead. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, chest heaving and heaving. “I’ll be good.”

Fingers still wisping across your face, he praises, “So beautiful.”

You finally calm your pulse before you slide your hand over his cock. “Did you come?”

“Nah.”

Looks like you aren’t done. “Mm,” you whisper, trying your best to prop yourself up. “Lie down for me.”

“You sure?”

You nod with heavy eyes, and he slowly occupies your bed while you caress him again. So smooth and so tender before squeezing just right.

It’s already almost enough because Yoongi throws his head onto your pillow. “Goddamn.”

When you slip his sweats down, you use willpower alone to consume him again. You will not rest until he’s fully content, too. With this in mind, your cheeks and jaw work overtime.

You want this, want this, want this. He gave you the world and then some, you can run on fumes to make him a mess. After all, you’re drunk off the pleasurable cocktail he just concocted with his tongue. This will carry you despite your functioning levels in the trenches.

“Babe—”

For a split second, you forget where you are. Your eyelids droop so low and your body twinges with aftershocks as you spit right onto his cock, sliding your lips along his pretty length before you feel him tug your sheets.

“Shit.”

He’s close. He doesn’t even have to tell you. You can tell by the way his body reacts and bends and folds, and you quickly decide what that means for you.

Because you could swallow.

But you instead make your way to the floor, commanding him before realizing just how authoritative and raspy you sound,

“Sit up.”

Right as he does, you pump him right above your exposed chest, shocking him so abruptly his low groan shakes your core,

“Oh, fuck—”

Hot, thick spurts land all over you, his release your only focus and not the pain in your knees from hitting the floor in round two. As his head rolls back, you watch with heightened pride, loving the way he looks lost in delicious, honeyed ecstasy.

And just like that, both of you are satisfied. Both of you got what you needed and wanted from this… hot summer… day…

There was a sound outside your door, further down the hall but fucking close enough.

And holy shit his cum is on your tits.

Holy shit holy shit this is the absolute last thing you should’ve let him do what the fuck what the fuck!

If anyone sees you like this you are both finished. Cooked. Banished.

You glance at the door, body locking and hands massive weights at your side.

One second.

Two seconds.

You’re fully awake now.

Four seconds.

Nothing else happens. Your ears strain wildly but you don’t hear any noises in succession, and you wonder if it was just a snore or something similar.

Sighing, you breathe out relief before peering straight up.

And the look you get in return is pure, primal hunger.

Yoongi’s never looked like this. Maybe he’s come close that one time before, but this is much different.

What is this? His pupils are magnified and his lids are lowered in fire, stoking the heat within you and clutching your cunt with his eyes alone. You’re so wet that you can come again if he so much as touched you. “Baby?”

Yoongi simply grazes your cheek with his knuckles. “Just want this in my phone so fucking bad.”

Oh. Well, fuck.

You blink at his shamelessness. But it makes you so exhilarated and shy that you resort to your default—cracking jokes. Of all the things he could’ve mentioned like the sound outside or possibly getting caught and dragged to hell he decides he wants your pictures in his phone. Right.

“Happy you painted me like Picasso?” You laugh before you can even finish, but so does Yoongi as he throws his head back.

Immediately, the atmosphere calms. “You heard that earlier?”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He is.” Yoongi helps you up and onto your bed before he asks, “Towels in your bathroom?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Under the sink.”

You watch as he goes to fetch them, heart pulsing extra hard at his consideration. When he bustles around in a room you use everyday, it’s surreal to witness. Both unnatural, but so natural at the same time.

He’s careful not to make loud sounds, gently closing your cabinets and coming back with a cloth he ran under water.

A sudden pang hits your chest and you have no clue why.

Is it because you’ll never see him in there again? Or is it because of the conversation you just brought up?

Maybe both. The convo from earlier today still rings in your ears, everyone hounding Yoongi about the scratches you left on his back. They were old but still very visible. You need to be more mindful of what you can and can’t do right now.

As Yoongi wipes your shivering chest, you ask something that’s been weighing on your mind, “Did I get you in even more trouble?”

He just looks at you before finishing his cooling task, raising straps back onto your shoulders. “Course you did.”

Ah. He didn’t seem bothered, but your apology follows him as he goes to pick up the abandoned candy from earlier. “Sorry. I didn’t think about it at the time.”

“S’ok. Hope you’re fine being some chick from outta town, though.”

Your chuckle hurts your throat on the way out. Not from disappointment, but from the very man you’re talking to. “I can deal with that. Is she nasty?”

It takes a bit for him to discard everything. When he comes back, he bends down to answer,

“So fuckin’ nasty.”

You giggle right into his kiss. Fully spent, your arms around his neck pull him in close, and his rough laugh makes your legs even weaker. “Can’t believe we just did all that.”

“Same.”

“Guess you like the dress, huh?”

A hand comes up to squeeze your thigh. “Dunno. Might have to see it again when the sun’s out.”

“Ass.”

“You get it.”

“Wow.”

Yoongi hisses amusement, shifting to lay beside you across your bed. When he does, light from the window hits him just right, and you fall silent at once.

So perfect. So unfair.

“I think this is my favorite,” you admit, not giving him full context. So when he wordlessly asks for it, you reach up and caress his cheek. “When you look happy.”

“I am,” he says after a pause. “Cus of you.”

You feel starlight in your own eyes. “I’m happy, too.”

For this, Yoongi doesn’t need to ask for more context at all.

The lingering fear of being caught is still there, but it’s not as present now. Maybe it’s because you’re both content again, but you don’t feel too stressed.

Did you want to get caught that whole time? Surely not when things were going down.

But what about now? If someone saw you lost in each others’ stars, would you care if they plucked you from the sky?

Staring into this man’s eyes, you can’t bring yourself to say you would.

“When will I see you again?” you blurt out of nowhere.

At this, Yoongi props his head up with an elbow. “When do you want to?”

“Tomorrow.”

His chest bobs with his laugh. “I’ll make sure to see you before I head out then.”

You nod, eyes shutting when Yoongi goes in for another kiss.

Another kiss is how you frame it. Because a final kiss is too painful to think about.

Yoongi has to leave. You know he literally cannot stay.

But facts and logic don’t make this parting any easier, and your heart breaks when he slips out of your bed.

It’s too soon. Yes, it’s also way past the time he should be in your room, but it’s too fucking soon.

Your chest burns. Sears make fiery ridges along your ribs until they overtake your heart, creeping closer and closer.

Until Yoongi bends to kiss you again, fingers slotting into yours and squeezing some liquid out of your eyes.

But his rasp gives you pause, “I did, by the way.”

Blinking, you feel him swipe at oncoming tears when you ask, “You did what?”

“Have fun.”

Oh. Wait, he’s answering the text you sent? You already forgot about that. Ages ago. “Good,” you say with a slight ghost of a smile. “It looked like you were having a good time. And I.. Really liked seeing you laugh.”

Yoongi just stares, thoughts and emotions skimming across his eyes. When you reach up to cradle his cheek, they then slip shut, brows dipping as he presses into you further. “You were the reason,” he admits with no hesitation.

Don’t cry more. Not now.

He gives you one more hug, and you cradle his head into your skin. “Good night, baby,” you whisper so softly, planting a kiss on his cheek.

When he does the same to yours, you wonder if his reaction was also reminiscent of tiny sparklers on a summer night.

“Night, doll.”

The steps he takes all stomp on your heart.

But you find solace in the hopeful future. One where you can stand next to him at summer barbecues, or host them with him, or just simply be anywhere with him.

But mostly, you’re yearning for a future where you don’t have to keep watching him leave through a door.

But come back through one.

fin. :)

🍭so... how did it go!🍭 | join the server! | join the taglist!

a/n: thank you to everyone that has stuck around while i took my huge rest! it was a little strange to not be here everyday talking to you all, but looking back, the resting and step back was needed. although it looks like some people left - whether the blog or in general - i am happy to see so many familiar and new people! let's keep having fun with the 3tanverse and beyond, yeah? a/n 2: thank you for also being here despite the highs and lows! i'll be here to talk and scream with y'all whenever, and it should be more frequent now. also be on the lookout for some physical copy interest checks! we are getting closer to 3tan copies being A Real Thing! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

#LETS GET ITTT #we are back baby!#bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #*ryenfictalk #ryenwrites #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts smut #*latest #3tanL #bts fanfic

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golden-cherry · 8 months ago

Text

deal - cl16 (27/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Cuddles and snuggles with friends are totally normal. But sleeping on top of each other?

Warnings: fluff, tiny bit of angst

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: if seems very rushed, I'm deeply sorry. I just didn't know how to write this chapter. feedback is appreciated (as always, please and thank you!)

As a cold gust of wind blows around your heads, you snuggle a little closer to Charles.

"Are you cold?" he whispers into your hair and strokes your spine with his fingertips, giving you goose bumps. Something he uses as a reason to tighten his arms around you.

The fire in front of you is almost out, with only a few logs crackling in the bowl in front of you, providing the last bit of warmth in the dark December night. The thin blanket wrapped around you doesn't do much to keep out the cold wind. As you start to shiver, Charles pushes you off his lap.

"I'll add some more wood. Hopefully you'll be a bit warmer then," he smiles gently and gets up from the couch.

"It's okay," you reply and start to fold the blanket in your lap. "It's already late. We can just go home."

But your roommate shakes his head. "We can still stay here."

"But -"

"I still want to stay here." His tone sounds almost desperate. "Please."

When you look into his eyes, there's a warm sparkle in them. And when he smiles, the sweet dimples bore into his cheeks, and you can do nothing but return his smile. "Let's go then. It's freezing."

You watch him take some logs from the corner by the patio door and place them in the almost burnt-out fire bowl. While you stretch out on the sofa cushions and snuggle back into the blanket, he lights a new fire. The light from the flames illuminates his face and gives it a golden glow.

You rest your head in your hand. "I didn't know you were so good at starting a fire."

Charles, kneeling on the other side of the fire bowl, can't help but grin. His gaze flickers from the flames in front of him to you. "There are a few things I'm good at that you don't know about." He licks his lips once before straightening up and taking the few steps to the couch. His eyes move from your face to your covered body. "Is there room for me too?"

You raise your eyebrows before pulling your knees up a little so he can sit at the other end of the couch. "Here you go."

Charles rolls his eyes. "Nuh-uh." Before you know it, he slides his arms under your body and lifts you off the couch - without much effort. "We'll share the space. It's fair." He sets you on your feet and pushes the blanket into your hand, then stretches out on the sofa so quickly that you can't protest. He clasps his hands behind his head and grins at you.

You, on the other hand, cross your arms in front of your chest. "I think we have different definitions of 'sharing'." As he slips an inch, you have to suppress a smile. "And apparently also of 'fair'."

"I think it's very fair," he defends himself, dropping one arm to his side so that it's between his body and the backrest. "I'm lying on the couch and you're lying on top of me." He shrugs, as if it's no big deal that he wants you to lie with your body on top of his. "Come on. I thought you were cold. And standing around isn't going to help you warm up."

You step from one foot to the other. "You sure?"

Charles rests his head on the armrest of the couch before spreading his arms out. "Come on. We sleep in a bed at home. There's not much difference here."

Not much difference.

You feel your heart pounding. "There's a big difference between lying on top of each other and lying next to each other."

Charles sighs loudly before sitting up and reaching for your hand. You can't resist as he pulls you towards him with all his strength, almost causing you to trip over your own feet. The blanket falls to the floor and thank God you can support yourself with your free hand, otherwise you would have landed on his face.

"Charles!"

Your friend wraps his arm around you so that you don't slip off him or land on the edge of the sofa. His cold fingers slide under your sweater and find their firm place at your side, while his free hand lifts the blanket from the floor and spreads it over the both of you. You have no choice but to lay your head on his chest and snuggle up to him.

"It's not so bad, is it?" he murmurs into your hairline and kisses the top of your head, making your heart beat faster. You just hope he can't feel it.

"For being so muscular, you're pretty comfortable," you confess, playing with his fingers as they continue to hold your hand. "Not as comfortable as the couch, but I'm not complaining."

You feel Charles' body shake beneath you. He laughs. "I can lie on top of you if you want." His fingertips slide further from your side and almost slide under your body. He presses you tightly against him. "Then I'd crush you. But maybe that wouldn't be so bad. The closer, the warmer."

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and press your face into his chest.

You're a little surprised that Charles turned the last remnant of his two-year relationship into ashes a few hours ago and is now making these kinds of comments. He even cried. But maybe that's what he needs. A friendship that goes deeper than shallow conversations and coffee dates.

Maybe he needs the closeness, emotionally and physically. Something he can hold on to when the roof falls on his head. Someone who pushes him to be better, but also brings him back down to earth when he takes off.

You want to be that person for him. Even if it costs you your heart.

You watch as the individual logs begin to burn. Charles' chest rises and falls beneath you and you feel his warm breath on your forehead as the fire crackles in front of you. Charles' hands change positions; the one that was holding your own a moment ago slides under your sweater to gently stroke your spine, while the other finds its way to your head. With warm fingertips, he brushes some of the hair from your face before he starts scratching your head.

"Do you want me to fall asleep?" you murmur against his shirt-clad chest.

"Would that be so bad?" You feel his lips move against the top of your head. Before you know it, you feel them on your forehead as he breathes a soft kiss on your cool skin.

"Uh-huh."

"Why? I thought I was comfortable?" His voice is barely louder than a whisper.

You curl your fingers into his sweater. "Pretty much. You're pretty comfortable," you repeat to yourself. "My bed at home is more comfortable, though."

"Then I'm sorry."

You twist your neck a little to look at him. You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "Sorry for what?"

He strokes your cheek once with his thumb. "That you have to make do with me." His warm breath caresses your face and although you are literally lying on top of him, you only now realize how close you are.

You smile tiredly. "Don't worry," you push yourself up a little and press your forehead against his cheek; his beard scratches gently against your skin. "My bed may be comfortable, but you're still my favorite."

Charles' lips kiss the tip of your nose before he kisses your forehead once more. "You're my favorite too, mon amour." His long arms wrap around your body under the covers, holding you close as the rise and fall of his chest lulls you to sleep.

You dream of peonies, pasta, red cars and lightning and warm lips on yours. Of strong arms that wrap around you, a body that lies on top of yours. You dream of Charles, his smile and the warmth he radiates. And only when his body moves beneath you do you slowly wake up from your dreams.

"Sleep well?" Charles' voice is raspy and deep in your ear as you squirm a little in his arms.

You exhale deeply, but keep your eyes closed. "Uh-huh."

Charles laughs softly and your head bobs on his chest. "So I was more comfortable than I expected."

Slowly, you open your eyes. The fire bowl has burnt out, there are only ashes in it and the only things that light up the night are the moon and the stars in the sky above you and a small lamp that shines a soft cone of light on you from the living room. "How long have I been asleep?" You rub your eyes sleepily.

"A few hours. But don't worry, as far as I know you weren't drooling," he jokes, but that doesn't stop you from jumping off the couch as if bitten by a tarantula.

"I'm sorry," you apologize, running your fingers through your hair, "I didn't mean to use you as a personal pillow."

"It's okay," he replies with a smile and scratches his beard. "I was going for it with the cuddling and the tickling, after all." He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm quite irresistible."

An image of him on top of you flickers in your mind's eye. How true.

"I'm sorry though." You grab Charles's legs and lift them up so you can sit on the couch next to him. His calves rest on your lap. "Your back must be incredibly sore."

He waves his hand. "This couch is still better than the one in our old apartment. It really was a horror." He leans back a little, stretches his back over the armrest and you can both hear the crack of individual vertebrae in his back. When you look at him with a raised eyebrow, he grins. "Oops."

"Come on." You push his legs off you and stand up. "Let's go home. There's a super comfy bed waiting for us. And there's enough room so we don't have to sleep on top of each other." You hold out your hand to him to pull him off the couch.

He puts his hand in yours, but instead of you pulling him up, he pulls you back towards him so that you end up on his lap. "Then let's stay here. On this couch. It's not as comfortable as our bed, but at least I'll have you lying on top of me." His grin is so wide that it almost reaches his ears.

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. You try to suppress the fact that your hands start to sweat and a warm shiver runs down your spine. "You're impossible."

"I thought I was irresistible?" he asks, leaning forward.

You hold your breath. "You said that, not me. And you're talking a lot of nonsense."

Charles lifts his hand and places it against your cheek, letting it wander until his fingers find your neck and his thumb lifts your chin. His mouth opens and his tongue glides over his full lips. "True. But when I say you're the most important person in my life, that's not nonsense."

You place your hand on his. "Then what is it?"

"The truth." He smiles lovingly. "You are - the light in my darkness, the fire in my veins, the music in my heart. I never expected that you could grow so fond of someone in such a short time. And then you came along." He hesitantly removes his hand from your cheek and the warmth it had radiated disappears. "You're my best friend."

Never in your life have you wanted to scream as loudly as you do at this moment. And you want to scream at the man in front of you, tell him that you want to be more to him than his best friend, that you want to kiss him, that you want to be his. And that you can hardly stand it when he's not with you.

And you want to scream at yourself, smack yourself, because you're trying to convince yourself that a friendship is enough, even though your heart is telling you that it's the last thing you want from him. You want to grab yourself by the shoulders and shake you until you come to your senses.

You are Charles' friend. His best friend. And even if actions speak louder than words, his words were unmistakable.

You smile at him. "I wouldn't want to be anything else either."

While Charles pushes the sofa back into place, you clear away the rest. You fold up the blanket and put it on the back of the sofa in the living room and the empty Coke cans end up in the garbage can in the kitchen. There's no sign of Joris, but his bedroom door is closed and there's not a sound to be heard. The apartment is dead quiet until Charles joins you in the kitchen.

"Last time we were here, we had a fight afterwards, remember?" he asks, leaning against the doorframe.

You turn to him and take a look at the kitchen island, where nothing is lying around except for a large wooden board. You chew the inside of your cheek. "I hate to remember that."

Your flatmate tilts his head. "The phone call or the argument?"

"The fight."

Charles pushes me away from the doorframe and stands opposite you at the kitchen island. "I'd like to apologize again. I went one step too far. And we haven't even known each other for twenty-four hours."

"Charles..."

"No, listen to me." He circles the counter until he stands in front of you and takes your hands in his. They're soft and warm. "I crossed a line that day and you were right to be angry with me. I just want to say again that I definitely don't want to do that again. The fighting I mean." He smiles. "I'd defend you to Raphael any time of day or night."

You purse your lips. "Then it's a good thing we can leave him behind. Just like Annika."

He lifts your hands and presses a fleeting kiss to your knuckles. "And I couldn't have done it without you."

The drive home isn't far, thank God, and as Charles parks his brother's car in the underground garage, you're overcome with tiredness again. You would have preferred to stay in the car, recline your seat and close your eyes. But Charles's hand on your thigh pulls you back into the world of the living.

"We're here, sleepyhead. Come on, there's a warm bed waiting for you upstairs that can hardly wait for you to snuggle up in."

"I can hardly wait either," you smile as you unbuckle your seatbelt and follow your roommate to the elevator. The light inside is bright and far too harsh for your tired eyes, so you close them and lean your head against the elevator wall. "I'm so tired."

"But you slept."

You open your eyes and look at your friend. "What's up with you? Aren't you tired too?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Do I look that exhausted?" He runs a hand through his hair. "I slept a bit too, don't worry. You lying on top of me wasn't just comfortable for you."

You try not to think too much about his comment as you get ready for bed and then lie down in your long-awaited bed. You plug your phone into the charging cable and see an Instagram notification pop up.

You have to smile.

liked by pierregasly and others tagged: yourusername francisca.cgomes: favorite cardigan, favorite person

"What's up?" asks Charles, who closes the door behind him.

You try not to stare at his naked torso, which, thank heavens, you manage to do. "Here, Kika's following me on Instagram now." You hold your phone out to him briefly so he can see her post. "I'll just follow her back."

"Can I follow you now too?" he asks as he lies down in bed next to you, phone in hand.

You look at him in confusion. "You're already following me."

Charles laughs as if you've told a joke. "That's right. But this is my private account. I'd like to follow you on my official account, if that's okay with you."

"It's okay with me," you reply, "but are you sure? After all, Kika has tagged me in her pictures. And if they go to my profile, they'll see that you're following me too, won't they?"

You don't really want to rub his caring in, but it was his idea to take Kika and Pierre furniture shopping. And to drive through Monaco in your old Renault. The fact that he wants to follow you - quite publicly and for everyone to see - on Instagram goes against everything he's done for your safety.

"They will. But we're friends, after all, and I won't be able to keep you out of the spotlight forever."

"All right." A moment later, another notification pops up. You quickly accept his request and follow him back before looking at the last picture he posted. You grin at him. "Cool picture, who took that?"

Playfully clueless, he shrugs his shoulders before snuggling into the pillow. "My best friend."

As you put your phone away, he switches off the bedside lamp and darkness and silence fill the room. You feel his warmth under the covers and you want to scoot the few inches over to him and press yourself against him until you're engulfed by his warmth.

"Would it be weird if we cuddled?" His voice sounds hesitant, as if he was struggling to ask you that. When you don't answer, Charles quickly backpedals. "I'm sorry. I know we're just friends, but - I don't know - when you're there, I feel like I'm at home. And it calms me down when you're with me. I'm sorry, that all sounds totally selfish."

You reach under the blanket for his hand. He squeezes it twice. "Friends can cuddle too, I think. I mean, without ulterior motives."

"Good," he murmurs and his arm wraps around your middle to pull you closer. He drapes your leg over his hip and your hand rests on his chest. "Is that okay with you?" His fingertips dance on your bare skin under your sleep shirt.

You press your face into his neck and breathe in deeply. As you exhale and your hot breath brushes over the soft skin of his neck, he pushes your leg down a little further, tangling your limbs together. "If that's what it is for you."

"It is." Charles presses one last kiss to your forehead before resting his cheek against the top of your head again. "And now we need to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. I don't think my mother can wait to get to know you better."

"Do you think she'll like me?" you ask softly into the darkness.

Charles' skin is warm and soft against yours as he presses you against him and your shirt slides up a little. "I think that anyone who gets to know you better will fall head over heels in love with you. Whether they want to or not."

Charles Instagram post

liked by francisca.cgomes, pierregasly and others charles_leclerc: aux nouveaux départs posted three days ago

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc cute #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x female oc #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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lxfinty · 2 years ago

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┊𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

xavier thorpe ; wednesday

pairing: jealous!xavier thorpe x bestfriend!fem!reader

warnings: light hearted, extremely cheesy & overplayed crush confession, miscommunication trope at it’s finest (let’s be honest, xavier is somehow great at both communicating and not talking at all), light swearing

request: n/a

summary: after telling him that you were asked to the dance at your school in jericho, xavier gets all butthurt.

a/n: I think this takes place after the whole monster situation, but he doesn’t like wednesday. also, don’t ask how wednesday, xavier, and y/n interact/are connected in all of this, idk either...

character credit: wednesday series

w/c: 1.2k

“I don’t even understand why you're being all grumpy right now,” you sigh as you trail behind your bestfriend.

You’re just leaving the Weathervane café and following Xavier towards the woods, meaning you’re probably heading to his little art shack. Everything was going as it usually does – you guys laughing and catching up over your separate drinks – when he suddenly got really quiet and wanted to leave.

“Can you at least tell me what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t even acknowledge your presence anymore, seeming to be in his own head right now.

You glance at his back, his usually tall stature now hunched in on itself. He keeps running his hand through his hair as it falls in his face, which is when you notice that he’s missing the black hair tie that usually sits on his wrist.

Putting a little pep in your step to get beside him, you hold out your own wrist. Upon it lays a hair tie; the same black type that he usually keeps for himself. You started carrying them after noticing how often he sets them down beside him, only to forget doing so and abandoning them altogether.

He halts his movements before glancing at the band adorning your wrist. He stares at it for a few seconds before his gaze trails up at your face, where he stares at you for a few more.

You guys are always comfortable around each other, you’ve been friends for a while now, so eye contact is not something you struggle with…but there was something different about the way he is currently looking at you. Like he’s analyzing you. Studying you. Looking past what lays upon your expression and trying to survey your thoughts.

You try to hold his stare, but after a bit your face starts to heat up and the moment feels way too intense, so you divert your gaze to your shoes, the tips almost touching the tips of his own.

You hear the soft sigh fall from his lips before you see his retreating steps. After a few seconds, you fall back in line, trailing behind him once again.

–

After a few more silent minutes, you reach his art studio. He opens the door for you, though still not looking at you directly, before walking in himself. He immediately finds his closest pencil and sketchbook, making little to no sounds as he sits at his desk and begins scribbling away.

You sit on the stool that accompanies a large painting canvas and watch as he frustratingly works the pencil into the paper, smudging lead with his fingers in an unrecognizable design.

After a while, the silence is almost too much to bear.

“Seriously Xavier, what is wrong with you?”

“Everything apparently,” he said abruptly while slamming down his pencil on the multi-color covered table top, “enough to not even be an option anymore.”

You squint at him, completely distraught by his sudden outburst.

“What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Completely lost about where this attitude even came from, you run back the conversation you were having back at Weathervane: your wellbeing, school, an upcoming dance, the guy who asked you to said upcoming dance…

Bingo.

“Are you mad about me getting asked to a school dance?” You questioned, a hint of accusation to your voice.

“Yes, okay! I’m mad you got asked to your little dance at normie school!” Xavier exclaimed, standing up and looking down at you.

It takes all but two seconds before you're standing as well, mixed emotions of confusion and anger boiling inside you.

“Why would you be fucking upset! If anything you should be happy that your best friend is actually liked by someone for once.” You said in an exasperated tone. Why would your closest friend be upset about you finally getting attention from someone…unless he thinks you don’t deserve it.

“Well I’m not fucking happy.” He says while looking you straight in the eyes before sitting back in his chair, placing his elbows on the table and his head in his hands.

“Why not?” At this point, anything he said would probably end with you in tears, your heart broken, or both.

“Because I wanted to take you,” he says in a soft voice before running both hands through his hair and turning to face you. “Because I want to take you,” he reiterates.

You gape at him, eyes and lips slightly widened as you find the words to say.

To be honest, you have had feelings for Xavier for a while. When you first saw him, you thought he was an attractive guy. His long hair compliments his face so well, who wouldn’t? But it wasn’t until you started connecting that your feelings for him truly blossomed. You loved his artsy side, he was always surprising you with drawings and paintings he made of you, alongside ones he made simply to impress you with his “bring drawings to life” ability. He was always there to cheer you up if something was upsetting you at school, and he would constantly call or text you to see how you’re doing.

After all that gaping, the only thing you could think to say was “why would you want to do that?”

He gave a small chuckle-ish sigh before replying, “have I not been obvious, because I swear everyone else could see how much I like you except you.”

Thinking back at it now, yeah the man was super obvious, but that doesn’t mean you actually believe it..

“Seriously, Y/N. I know I’m being super obvious in my flirting tactics, but that’s just because I think you like me back. I mean obviously not if you’re going to a dance with someone else, but I-”

“Who said I’m going with somebody else?” You cut him off mid rant.

“The guy-.”

“If you would’ve actually let me finish my story instead of getting all jealous and gloomy, you would have heard me say that I didn’t even say yes.” You look at him with a slight smirk. “Matter of fact, I don’t think I even like anyone fro-”

“I knew it.”

“From my school. Xavier you seriously need to let a girl finish her storytimes,” you shake your head and softly laugh before looking back up at him.

The smile you’ve come to adore is finally resting upon his face once again.

“So…you want to take me to the dance,” you tease.

“I do,” he says as if it’s a simple fact.

“Are you gonna ask or…? Because I’ve got other options to weigh if this is gonna take all da-.”

He rushes towards you and envelopes you in a hug, though this one feels different than the ones you usually share.

“Would you allow me the great honor of taking you to your normie school dance?” He finishes as he sets you back upright and grazes his thumb over your cheek.

“I would love to go,” you smile up at him, leaning into his touch slightly.

“With me though, right? The other dudes are completely out of the picture?”

“Only with you,” you giggle at his playful antics. “Just you.”

Completely ignoring the story, I am currently obsessed with Xavier Thorpe and my close friends list on Instagram has been suffering with edits for days.

I no longer support Percy Hynes White and will no longer take request for Xavier Thorpe.

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #wednesday #wednesday addams #xavier thorpe x you #y/n #fem!reader #wednesday show #ff #imagine #oneshot #escapism #x reader #atpsnty

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wonhes · 4 months ago

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WARNINGS: SUGGESTIVE JOKES, LIGHT MAKE OUT SESSION, READER SITS ON SOHEE’S LAP (idk if that should even be a warning but just in case 😭)

DISCLAIMER: please keep in mind ALL cloud 9 characters are FICTIONAL. i’m never claiming any of the riize members are like how i’m writing them out to be in this series. if you don’t like how i’m portraying a member please simply stop reading and scroll away. thank you! 🤍

☁︎ — 7:28 PM MAY 31, 2024

looking at the mirror one last time, you quickly turn off the restroom light and move to go open the front door. at the sight of SOHEE standing in front of you, you immediately let go of the door handle and rush towards him.

meanwhile, sohee stood there rehearsing what he wanted to say to you. at the realization that the door was now open, he looks up at you and sends you a nervous smile.

“pretty girl-” he begins but is completely caught off guard with the feeling of your arms wrapping around his waist. tightly wrapping your arms around him, you rest your head on his chest. stumbling backwards a bit, sohee quickly regains his balance before dropping what he had in his hands and making way to wrap his arms around you.

“your heart is beating really fast,” you mumble after a while, slightly moving your head from his chest to take a peek at him. with rosy cheeks, sohee lets out a small chuckle and nods his head at you.

“for you,” sohee responds back. “it only ever beats fast for you.”

smiling up at him, you move over to place a kiss on his cheek and slowly remove your arms from his waist. not wanting to let go of you, sohee quickly moves a hand to grab on to yours. quickly looking down at your hands, you gently intertwine your fringes with his before taking a small step backwards to get a better view of him.

“i’m sorry,” you say, causing sohee to immediately scrunch up his face in utter confusion.

“no,” he shakes his head at you. “i’m the one who’s sorry.”

“pretty boy-” you start, only for sohee to continue shaking his head at your words.

“you have every right to be upset.” he states as he lightly squeezes your hand.

“pretty girl i’ve never-” he quietly continues. sohee finds himself avoiding eye contact, embarrassed on what he’s about to say.

“i may not know what i’m doing but what i do know is that i want you.” he says, shifting his focus back on you. “i want to keep learning more about you and what you like and don’t like,” he begins ranting. “i’ve never done this before—“ he lets out a shaky sigh. “but i really want this with you. i want to learn. i may be confused right now, not fully knowing how to navigate this but i really do want this. i want this with you. i want you.” he slightly repeats himself, trying his best not to stutter as he gives your hand another tight squeeze.

“i’m sorry it took me forever to realize i was upsetting you, i swear i didn’t do it on purpose. i didn’t mean to ignore you, or make it seem like if i was putting anton before you. i was hanging out with him to try and get him to be okay with us dating. i didn’t fully understand what was happening until it was too late. i didn’t know he was rubbing it in your face. i never meant to-”

“pretty boy-”

“no, pretty. please listen,” sohee pouts at you. “i didn't mean to hurt you and god i am so sorry that i hurt you-”

“sohee,” you let go of his hand to place both of your hands on his cheeks. “look at me,” you mumble out.

“we’re okay,” you say, causing sohee to immediately shake his head at you. “pretty boy, i was jealous because you kept hanging out with anton and ignoring me-” you sigh as you look up at him.

“it wasn’t on purpose,” sohee cuts you off, sadly eyeing you.

smiling at him, you nod at him before continuing. “i didn’t know it was because you were trying to get on his good side.”

“he’s your brother, pretty. i want him to like me enough for him to like the idea of us dating,” he mumbles shyly.

“pretty boy-”

“don't get mad but i also showed him our texts so he could help me figure out what else might be wrong.” sohee immediately scrunches up his face and closes his eyes to avoid seeing your reaction.

gasping at his sudden confession, you bring both hands to cover your mouth. “sohee,” you say in disbelief.

hesitantly opening his eyes, sohee tries his best to not mumble how cute you look with your current expression. “pretty girl, he’s my best friend,” sohee tries reasoning with you.

shaking your head at him, you bring a hand up in the air to let him know to give you a moment. “my brother saw my down bad texts,” you mumble out in complete horror. “oh my god.”

biting his bottom lip to stop himself from letting out a small chuckle, he brings his hand to grab yours once more and gently caresses your hand with his thumb.

“pretty, he saw my down bad texts too,” sohee tries making you feel better. “but thanks to him i realized what was going on.”

looking up at him confused, you tilt your head at him waiting for him to continue. “i’m sorry for not catching on to your hints. i honestly didn’t even know they were hints. i was too busy focusing on getting anton to like me again and i just- in my head it doesn’t make sense that you would want to hang out with me so i didn’t read too much into them,” he quietly added. at his confession, you soften your expression.

“pretty boy, i like you. of course i’m going to want to hang out with you. i don’t want just texts or phone calls or facetime calls,” you say pouting at him. “i want you. i want to see you, physically. i want to learn everything about you too.” you ended, smiling at him before slightly tugging at his hand. “let’s go inside?” brightly smiling down at you, he nods at your words.

“wait!” he suddenly says causing you to stop your movements. “pretty girl i dropped your flowers,” sohee sadly states as he bends down to pick up the bouquet. pouting at you, he looks down at the flowers once more and takes notice of their current state.

“pretty boy,” you giggle out, trying to take the bouquet from his hand.

“my pretty girl deserves pretty flowers, i’m so sorry. when you hugged me i just threw them on the ground without thinking,” he sadly mumbles, looking at you with big sincere eyes.

“pretty boy,” you chuckle at his expression. moving a hand to cup his cheek, you bring his focus back to you. “i think they’re beautiful.”

“i think you’re more beautiful,” he quickly says back, in a complete daze. blushing at his compliment, you send him a small shy smile.

“i’m going to kiss you, if that’s okay-” you start telling him only for him to quickly nod at you.

“yes!” he immediately answers back. “more than okay.”

giggling at his reaction, you move to stand closer to him. looking at his eyes before looking down at his lips, you move your hand to the back of his neck to softly bring him closer to you. standing up straighter, you lean forward and slowly close your eyes. at the sight of you nearing closer to him, sohee looks down at your lips before closing his eyes and slightly tilting his head and closing the gap between you two.

placing a small peck on his lips, you gently move away and offer sohee a smile only for him to immediately crash his lips against yours for another kiss.

with your lips now touching his once more, you find yourself letting go of his hand to place it on his chest. bringing a hand up to your chin, sohee continues kissing you back causing you to slowly move your hand and place it behind his neck. with both hands on his neck now, you move one towards his scalp and gently run your fingers through his hair as you deepen the kiss.

feeling your hands on him and you lightly tugging on his bottom lip, sohee immediately drops the bouquet of flowers yet again, and brings a hand to your waist to pull you closer to him, if even possible. giggling at his urgency, you give him one last peck before moving away, causing sohee to let out a small whine in protest.

“let’s go inside, yeah?” you breathlessly ask, bringing a hand to his arm to guide him towards the door.

“pretty girl,” sohee whines causing you to stop walking and look back at him. pouting at you, he looks down before shifting his focus on you. “i dropped your flowers again,” he pouts, annoyed with himself.

☁︎ — 8:56 PM MAY 31, 2024

with sohee sitting on your bed, you bring a hand up to run your fingers through his hair.

“my favorite chocolate bar is milky way by the way,” you randomly state as you move to peck his lips.

“hm?” sohee confusedly asks. unsatisfied with the small peck, sohee puckers out his lips, silently asking you for another one.

“i only want you buying me my favorite chocolate bar so i’m telling you what it is,” you giggle at his expression, moving forward to place a kiss on his nose.

“anything else i should know?” sohee asked, smiling up at you as he places his hands on your waist.

“hm, i also really like you,” you chuckle out, watching as his cheeks turn a dark shade of red. embarrassed at your confession, sohee hides his face on your chest and pulls you closer to him by hugging your waist.

“can you feel it?” you gently whisper out. “my heart.” you add.

“it’s beating really fast,” sohee states. looking up at you from his current position.

“yeah, because of you,” you state, softly smiling down at him. with a big smile on his face, sohee places a kiss on your collarbone.

“i really want to kiss you again,” sohee admits. he wants nothing more than to feel your lips against his, especially now knowing that you like him just as much as he likes you.

“nobody is stopping you,” you whisper out, gently bringing yourself to sit on his lap. with your legs now resting on each side of his hips, you shyly smile at him. “is this okay?”

“more than okay,” SOHEE mumbles back before placing his lips against your own.

☁︎ — CLOUD 9

CHAPTER 27 — pretty flowers

summary !! after years of constant pining after his best friend’s sister, yn finally takes notice of sohee and sohee swears he’s on cloud 9. or in other words, loser sohee finally gets the girl.

<- BACK | NEXT ->

CLOUD 9 MASTERLIST

˚౨ৎ˚ taglist — @acidwon @astro-doll-the-star @addorations @aeoliannie @bbina @cake1box @callanton @calumsfringe @d3junlys @emohoon @ffixtionista @gyehyeonist @haeeeeefer @hakkkuu @hisrkive @https-yeonjun @i0134 @idkhoomanmaybe @jeeluv @jiaisfox @angelseokjinie @kaelysian @keilovr @lakoya @lcvehee @lecheugo @llearlert @lostinneocity @miyawwn @molensworld @nishimuraii @nujeskz @odxrilove @parkwonbinie @renjuneoo @riizewrld @rksbae @rosesfortaro @saranghoeforanton @secretiny @seunghancore @shoberi @snowyseungs @sseastar-main @st4rryhae @sunflowerbebe07 @spookybias @talk022 @totheseok @whatsk-poppinhomies @whoisgwyn @wonbin-truther @ywnzn

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disneyprincemuke · 6 months ago

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too young to know it gets better * fem!driver

there has to be someone out there that can snap her out of it, right?

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver

notes: HI AFTER THIS THERE's one left and i promise that's not AS angsty as this one and i'm thinking of adding one or two more bonus chapters?? lolsie but idk we'll see!

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

rockster has disconnected.

that’s the notification that had brought logan and oscar together some random afternoon. they stand in the confinements of the elevator in silence, not a single word uttered since they’d met one another in the lobby after sending a simple text out.

but they know what they’re here for.

logan hadn’t moved that fast in concern for her, dating back 3 years ago when mick had supposedly texted him about marrying his crush in vegas. he had sprinted 2 blocks from his apartment building to hers in the span of a couple of minutes.

and oscar had been running errands with lily prior to getting the notification. when she’d noticed her boyfriend staring down at his phone with distress all over his face, she’d immediately pushed him towards the exits to attend to the girl. she’s also a close friend, so she notices.

if you asked oscar, he’s been worried for months. but with her tendency to keep rejecting his initiation for small talk, it’s difficult to try and find the words to try and pry a confession out of her. but this disconnection from an application they’ve had for years raises red flags that they didn’t even know were possible.

“we’re not overreacting, right?” oscar mutters as they step out of the elevator at her floor.

logan nods, lips pressed into a thin line as he counts the steps he takes down the familiar hallway. “she dropped kidnapper off at my apartment like a week and a half ago. i haven’t heard from her since.”

oscar turns to him. “you’ve heard from her?”

“barely,” logan grimaces with a shake of his head, eyes trained on the hallway. “i invited her in for snacks but she declined and left immediately.”

“i haven’t seen or heard from her since the summer break began.”

“she hasn’t been picking up my calls either.” he turns to oscar. “that’s weird, right?”

logan almost wants to laugh at their conversation. if he didn’t consider that their best friend was the person at stake, he would have laughed the loudest he’s ever. they simply sounded like they were answering one another for copium in hopes that their best friend hasn’t lost her mind just yet.

when he unlocks the door to her apartment, they’re taken aback by the sight they’re immediately greeted with. and for logan, it’s whiplash — he’s only ever had fond memories of this apartment. to find it absolutely thrashed almost breaks his heart a little bit.

in his mind, he can hear the girl always scolding him for being messy when they were living together.

the curtains, typically letting the sun seep into the room, are drawn in to block the light out. the floor is littered with her things and there’s a chair toppled over on the ground. a picture frame on the entertainment system beneath the tv is faced down against the counter and if logan can recall perfectly, it’s their picture from when they were kids.

“what happened in here?” oscar mutters, stepping around the items of stray pieces of clothing on the ground. “should we call someone? do you think someone broke into her apartment?”

“let me call her and see if she’s alright,” logan sighs, fishing for his phone in his back pocket.

he hadn’t expected the situation to be so concerning. have they really let her run rampant on her own all this time?

he dials her number, just about to press the call button when a lock clicks and a door opens.

the girl, albeit slightly unrecognisable at first, steps out of her bedroom. she’s still in her pyjamas, cheeks wet and eyes puffy with her hair in a messy ponytail talling apart on her shoulder.

“who- rocky?”

she flinches back at the voice, catching her off-guard. she sighs tiredly as she pushes her hair out of her face, wiping her cheeks dry on the sleeve of her pyjamas. “what are you guys doing here”

“what are we- when did you get back?” logan tilts his head in confusion. he gestures towards the mess around them, “and what happened? have you been crying?”

she sighs again, eyes fluttering as she turns to look away from them. “you guys should really go. it’s not a good time right now,” she says softly, gesturing them towards the front door of her apartment.

“we can stay and help you clean everything up,” oscar mutters, mirror logan’s stare at the ground, “we’re just curious. you don’t typically let your apartment get this messy.”

“mate,” another sigh comes with her pinching the bridge of her nose, “it’s really not a good time right now.”

oscar’s head snaps up. “are you avoiding us?”

she stares at him tiredly. “what? no, it’s just-”

“you are, aren’t you?” oscar cuts her off, feeling an overwhelming wave of frustration takes over him. months of what feels like a one-sided friendship finally catches up to him.

every single rejection of plans reminds him how neglected their friendship has been, every time she’s ‘forgotten’ to look for an ice cream parlour makes his blood boil. it is such a one-sided friendship as of late and it feels like she’s no longer honouring the years of friendship they have.

“but why? did we do something? did we say something to upset you?”

she slouches her shoulders. she takes a deep breath to recompose herself. “please just go,” she croaks out, feeling a knot in her throat at the realisation of where this entire conversation might be heading. “not now.”

“but what is it? is it us?” oscar frowns. “at least tell us before you start ignoring us.”

she clenches her jaw as her patience runs thin. and she tries to hold on to the last string of patience she has. all these past months, she’s tried her damnest not to be this way to anyone that’s involved in racing.

just to save some face, to show that she’s not completely lost her mind. apart from the fact that they’re all practically colleagues, they’re also her friends.

but as oscar continues to edge her on for an explanation for her behaviour, it’s increasingly getting more difficult to keep her outbust at bay.

“rocky,” oscar calls out to grab her attention. “what is it? i’m so tired of you beating around the bush; if we did something to upset you, speak up. it’s not fair — what you’re doing. you’re cancelling plans, you’re bailing, you’re leaving us hanging… we’ve known each other half of our lives. you can’t just do this.”

logan shifts uncomfortable where he stands. “do you hate us?”

she tries to stop herself, really. but she should be allowed one outburst in her life.

“yes, yes, i actually do!” she admits, venom lacing her words as she starts to explain herself. “it sucks. i’m so fucking jealous of all of you right now. i’ve tried to feel happy for you guys but honestly?” a dry laugh passes her lips, tears falling out of her eyes. “i resent all of the success you’ve found this year.

because you’re doing great and i’m not. it’s annoying because i should be doing great too. because between every single one of us, no one’s worked as hard as i have to get to where i am today. you’re my best friends but i can’t get myself to be happy for you and i hate myself even more for it.”

oscar blinks blankly at her. her chest heaves as she finishes speaking, fists clenched by her side as she starts to cry a little harder.

she’s swallowed down every single drop of resentment she feels towards her friends, all doing well while she’d sunk deeper into the trenches of her own demise.

speaking ill of them that one time they achieved a podium without her haunted her for weeks on end. she couldn’t get herself to speak to them like she hadn’t spent 20 minutes speaking behind their backs about how much she hates that they’re on podiums without her.

“it was easier to avoid you than say things i can’t say.”

it was truly one of the last times she spend with them; the guilt of speaking on them ate her up. she’s apologise out of the blue and they’d have no idea what she was talking about.

admitting it now feels like their friendship would truly never be the same. like this is the one fight that’s been waiting to happen after their years of friendship and would lead to her eventual loneliness.

but she doesn’t expect oscar to start laughing. “are you fucking stupid?”

“excuse me, what?” she scoffs, throwing her head back slightly.

logan sighs next to socar. “come on, don’t be like that. she’s clearly having a hard time right now,” he mutters, putting a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

oscar turns to logan, pointing a hand over to where the girl stand by her bedroom door. “really, logan? you don’t think she’s being so mind-numbingly stupid right now?” he glances at her then immediately looks away. “she’s so insensitive right now. the last thing she should have done is isolate herself but she’s gone ahead and done exactly that.”

oscar huffs and turns back to her with a frown. “you would think that she would fall back on the people who understand her the most. and you still don’t believe she’s being stupid?”

logan sighs again. “oscar.”

“you don’t fucking get it!” she screams.

“we’re the ones who don’t get it? out of everyone you know, we’re the 2 people who understand the most!”

he has a point, she starts to think. but it’s not the same — they’re not the same. their predicaments are different.

they never had to go through and be on the receiving end of words that tried to tear her down as she grew up.

“no, you don’t!” she says with slight amusement. “you’re oscar piastri. everyone’s kissed the ground you’ve walked on; you came into the sport and everyone’s been acting like you’re a prodigy changing the course of the sport. you don’t know what it’s like to be this way!”

“and you thought that pushing away every single person who wants to help you is the solution to your problems?” oscar snorts. then it hits him. “is that why i haven’t seen matt around lately? you drove him away? finally cracked, didn’t he?”

“you don’t know the half of it,” she scoffs. there’s no need for oscar to remind her of the cardinal sin she’d acted upon to drive matt away.

she lives with the repercussions of it every single day: coming back to an empty apartment. just an apartment, a shell of what used to feel like home.

“all of this over a bad couple races?” oscar rolls his eyes and another mean scoff passes his lips. he was unaware how bad it had gotten for her. “how immature. there’s more to fucking life than your position in f1.”

she sucks in a deep breath. “you’ll never understand.”

“oh, i do,” oscar points out with a small grin. “i grew up with you, rocky, i know how you operate. you break down the minute you’re not the best at something. you get scared and hide away when you don’t feel like you’re on the top of your game.”

“what do you know about what i feel?” she tilts her head with a small smile. “that’s so fucking pretentious of you to say so, oscar.”

“you’ve already made it to the top.” he picks his feet up and starts to walk over to her, shoving away logan’s hand that tries to stop him from threading any further. “it’s unnecessary that you’re still this hard on yourself. you’ve proved everyone wrong by making it this far. there are people on your side,” he jabs a finger into her shoulder and she stumbles back, “there are people who miss you- we miss you!

“do you even realise how lucky you have it right now? you’ve got sebastian helping to push your narrative because he believes in you. do you think everyone’s got that luxury?” he points back at logan. “do you think he had that luxury fight for his life in this sport? did that even cross your mind or are you just so far into your head?”

“oscar,” logan repeats. oscar glances back at logan who has his lips pressed into a thin line, unamused by the scenario he’s choosing to bring up. “don’t even go there.”

but oscar ignores him. oscar turns back to the younger girl and grabs her shoulders, squeezing them firmly as he draws a soft sob from her.

“i thought that because you weren’t entirely alone, it was okay that we take a step back and stopped meddling with your life. i thought you were going to be fine; i thought you knew ho to handle yourself and continue to keep your feet on the ground.”

she shakes her head, bottom lip pouted out. “you don’t-”

“i don’t understand?” oscar scoffs. “how far into your head have you gone to push yourself into a corner? do you realise that you’re in the trenches because you put yourself in there? have you looked in the mirror and actually,” oscar shakes her, “looked at yourself?”

and it seems that something finally clicked in her head. she stares blankly up at him, tears finally running down her cheeks. her chest heaves with constant sobs as she no longer can find the words in her head to prove her point.

“okay, that’s enough,” logan mutters, yanking oscar away from the girl. he shoves the younger boy towards the kitchen. “go and get some air and drink some water — you’re scaring her.”

oscar sniffles, wiping his eyes and stumbles towards the kitchen. he spares her one last glare before turning his back on her. “whatever.”

logan can only sigh when he looks down her head. she’s got her head in her hands as she sobs. she lifts her eyes to look up at him and scoffs. “what? do you have something to say to me? about how deranged i’ve gotten?”

“i don’t know what got into you to think we wouldn’t understand how you were feeling,” he says softly, tears flooding his eyes.

it’s difficult to watch someone you think is so strong be half the person you watched her grow into. he pulls her into his arms, squeezing her into a tight hug and rests his chin on her head.

“i’m sorry,” she cries in staggered breaths into his chest. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know. i didn’t-”

“it’s okay,” he mutters, squeezing her tighter. “we’re here.” he pulls away slightly and cups her cheeks, wiping her tears away with a small grin. “we’ve got you, okay? we’re here now.”

she nods through her tears, “okay.”

“we’ve got you, i promise,” logan hums, pulling her in again. he sways gently as he feels her sobs slowly dying out. “you’ll be okay.”

logan turns around at the sound of things shuffling about. oscar has a trash bag in his hand, picking up empty bottles on the ground and throwing them into the bag silently. she pulls her head back and watches oscar slowly navigate her littered apartment.

sensing their stares, oscar glances over his shoulder. “are you going to help me or are you just going to let me do this by myself?”

she glances up at logan with eyebrows raised and in return, he shrugs with a small smile.

for the next 2 hours, they clean up her apartment in silence. no music, not an utter of another word, just a heavy silence pushing down on their shoulders as they shift about her apartment like a well-oiled machine.

oscar throws his dirty piece of tissue into the bin right by the coffee table and sighs, leaning back into the couch he’s sat on. he’s in a single seater while logan and her share the bigger couch.

her apartment finally looks the way they all remember it. pristine with all her things neatly slotted into their respective slots.

oscar hasn’t spoken to her much since he’d gotten the bright idea to start helping her clean the apartment for her. he’d briefly asked her if she wanted pizza for dinner, to which she simply shrugged and said okay, then asked which toppings she wanted. then they returned to their silence.

he picks up her can of pepsi, popping it open before extending his hand over to her. she turns stiffly and looks at his offer with a blank stare. “oh, thank you.”

she takes it into her hands and glances over at oscar who turns away from her immediately to grab logan’s drink next. “i’m sorry,” she says first, just barely above a whisper. her head is dropped slightly, eyes trained on the slicer of pizza in her hands.

truthfully, she’s not very sure how to apologise for her behaviour. while she’s broken down over things said about her and her progress is a sport that barely had a spot for her, it’s never gotten this bad.

she hadn’t even realised that they still cared with their own lives now.

“no, i’m sorry,” logan says immediately, turning his head to her. “that we didn’t foster an environment where you felt like you could come to use and be honest about how you’re really feeling. you did it for me all the time when we first started out and i’m sorry i couldn’t do the same for you.”

“it’s not even your fault,” she sighs shakily. “i pushed away everyone who tried to extend their hands out to me to help. oscar’s right.”

oscar sighs audibly, sinking into his seat. he turns his head to look at her and purses is lips. “i’m sorry i called you stupid,” oscar says, “we grew up together… i just thought that if you didn’t feel right, we’d still be the people you know you don’t have to put up a facade with. be brutally, disgustingly and painfully honest with.”

“i really didn’t wanna worry anybody,” she frowns. “you have your own lives now, you know? i thought i could handle it on my own.”

“don’t even say that,” oscar turns to her with furrowed eyebrows, “you’re practically my little sister — i’ve driven you to the hospital after you writhed in pain from dislocating your shoulder playing volleyball. i’ve beaten up guys from school for you so of course you’ll always have a place in our lives.”

“i didn’t want you to know that i was a sore loser,” she shrugs with a small grin. she gestures towards logan. “he took our first 2 years in the sport so gracefully. it was embarrassing that i couldn’t do the same when it was my turn.”

“what?” logan scoffs. “you seriously think i wasn’t jealous seeing you guys being glorified by everyone? i felt like shit watching you guys get accepted in the sport with open arms and make new friends without me.”

he gives her a knowing stare when she turns her head to look at him. “i lvoe you, but i seriously despised you so much for being better than me at everything. i felt like the smallest man who’s ever lived when i was next to you. and dude… we were always together.”

she chews on the inside of her cheek. “i didn’t know that… i’m sorry…”

“but at the end of the day, you were always there for me,” logan frowns, poking her arm gently. “i’m sorry i couldn’t give you the same level of comfort to not spiral this bad. the only reason i hadn’t was because you were there for me all the time.”

“well i’m sorry that i was so mean to you,” oscar sighs. “but you know you needed it, right?”

“i know,” she shrugs, “thanks.”

“i don’t wanna be the one to bring it up, though,” logan hums as he reaches forward for another slice, “but what happened with matt?”

she chuckles with a soft snort. she lifts her head and puffs her cheeks out. “i wasn’t very nice to him when everything was falling apart,” tears flood her eyes, “he called for a break. but honestly, i think he wants to break up with me.”

logan raises an eyebrow. “he asked for a break, didn’t he? that’s not a breakup, mate.”

“you weren’t there. i wouldn’t want to be with me either if i had to endure what he went through with me,” she admits with a sigh. she wipes her tears away from her eyes and smiles slightly. “i think he’s just trying to soften the blow.”

oscar laughs. he laughs the loudest and heartiest he’s ever since he’d bolted from lily while they were running errands together. “do you seriously think that?”

she blinks at oscar. “i thought we were done being mean to me, mate.”

“we are!” oscar beams, forcing himself to falter with his laughter. “i’m sorry, i’m not trying to make you feel worse. but do you seriously think that matt — the guy who’s in your garage every single weekend, literally comes into the paddocks with ice cream for your entire team, texts logan and i to ask about things to surprise you with — wants to seriously break up with you?”

“well, you weren’t there,” she explains with a frown. “well, you were, once when i was crying in the paddocks. but i was so mean to him.”

“but a break isn’t a breakup,” oscar explains as he points at her knowingly. “you were arguably at your worst, i doubt that he wants to leave you when your mental was that bad. it happens, you know?”

“if he didn’t want to be with you, he would have broken up with you instead of asking for a break,” logan sighs, patting her on the shoulder. “just approach him.”

“i don’t know how to,” she admits, sliding down the couch to lie down slightly. “there’s no gesture big enough to makeup for the things i said… the way i treated him…”

“say you’re sorry,” oscar says with a small grin and a nod. “start there and i’m sure you guys can work it out from there, you know?”

“i’ll try.”

“okay, enough with this,” logan throws his head back with a grunt. “let’s go karting!” he stands up and smiles at her widely. “you sound like you need your edge back. i’ll even let you win this time.”

she scoffs, “as if i’d ever lose to you in equal machinery!”

“aw, she’s back! she’s fighting back now!” oscar cheers, hopping up as he claps his hands. “come on! then let’s get ice cream where we always get it! i haven’t been there in forever.”

“okay, okay!” she laughs, watching the 2 of them jump to their feet and start to clear out her table. she feels a warmth in her chest watching them in her living room. “just let me shower, okay? we kinda cleaned a lot tonight. i won’t take less than 15 minutes, i promise!”

there’s a chorus of heavy sighs and arms thrown in the air. “we might as well cancel karting.”

“but you take forever to get ready!” oscar jokes with a frown. “if you pass 15 minutes, you’re paying for ice cream.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @c-losur3 @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @tinyhrry @iwilleatyourgod @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

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sleepyparalysisdmon · 7 days ago

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Lean On Me

The three times Jeonghan sticks up for you, and the one time you finally get it.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and stress. Creepy guy in a club.

This is part of the Three Times series. This one is inspired by this reaction.

One

You really don’t want to be out at the club right now. You’re not even sure how you ended up here. Your friends can so rarely convince you to come somewhere so crowded and loud. But it’s your friend’s birthday and you felt compelled to dress up and play along, no matter how briefly. You’ve been sipping on the same watered down drink for the last hour while chatting with a few mutual friends who have also shown up.

Joshua has just walked away, leaving Jeonghan to sip his drink next to you as he eyes you carefully. “Don’t like the drink?” His voice is teasing and it makes you frown a bit. You don’t like that your discomfort is so obvious as he clocks your squirm from one foot to the other immediately. You can tell because he fucking smirks down at you behind his beer.

“Not much of a drinker,” you excuse, trying to sound light, but it comes out through gritted teeth. Every muscle in your body is wound tight from even being here.

“I’ll go get you something different if you’d like. Something a little fruitier to mask the taste.” He’s still watching you like a hawk. His voice is still teasing, but the offer seems genuine, like he’ll turn to the bar as soon as you agree.

Still, you shake your head, twirling the little straw in your glass. All the ice is gone by now, not that you had much of a desire to drink it in the first place. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.” The music is suddenly a little too loud and your ears start to ring. Your breath catches a bit in your throat. “Actually, I’m going to head out. Can you tell them that if they ask?”

Jeonghan’s eyes drift to your mutual friend, the birthday girl, who is dancing on a table now. “I don’t think they’ll notice. I’ll drive you home, if you want. It’s late and you shouldn’t walk or get a taxi alone.”

You frown at him again. “How much have you had to drink?”

He raises his mostly full beer a little, “This is my second one.” The neck of the bottle hasn’t even been drained yet. He watches you hestitate. “Nothing more than a ride, I promise. I just want to make sure you make it home okay.”

The DJ has turned up the music just a bit, the bass thumping in your stomach uncomfortably. You place your glass on one of the trays in the corner. “Okay, if you’re sure you’re safe to drive.”

“I’m sure,” he says simply, plopping his bottle next to your glass. He holds out his hand to you and you stare at it, so long that he pulls it back. “Hang on. Don’t want you to get lost in the crowd.”

Your hand loosely finds the back of his shirt as he leads you through the crowd and out the front doors of the club. In the night air, you can breath a little better and he doesn’t say anything about it. Once in the car, he rolls down the windows for you.

Two

You’re out again, this time to dinner with some friends. You’ve had the misfortune of sitting next to Soonyoung. He’s really so, so sweet and means nothing by it, but he’s been drinking quite a bit before you got here. He gives you a tight hug that has your heart racing in the worst way when you sit down next to him. He greets you warmly none the wiser, and doesn’t seem to notice how you inch away from him. But at the cramped table, there isn’t far to go before you’re bumping elbows with Jeonghan.

On the other side of Soonyoung, Joshua is doing his best to distract Soonyoung, but the hyperactive man keeps turning to you to talk animatedly. You’re doing your best to be polite, you really are, because you know he would never try to make you uncomfortable on purpose, but some of his awareness is gone because of the alcohol.

Jeonghan stands after your third clingy hug from Soonyoung and announces, “I’ll get the next round of shots.” He turns to you, speaking a little softer. “Will you come help me?”

Much like the last time at the club, you grab the back of his shirt to get to the bar. He places the order with the bartender and then turns to you. “You looked like you needed a little breather.”

You huff, hating how transparent you seem to be around him. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan snorts, looking entertained. “You kind of wear it all over your face.”

Someone comes up to the bar behind you, crowding you. Jeonghan’s gently grabbing your elbow, pulling you towards him. There’s a spike of anxiety, but being inches from Jeonghan is better than being so close to a total stranger. Said stranger is totally unaware of how he’s practically breathing down your neck, brushing up against your back. You feel your shoulders tense, but Jeonghan’s hand moves from your elbow to your back, pulling you toward him into his side.

He leans down to be heard over the music. “Sorry. It’s just until we get away from the bar.” You give him a nod, because there’s a weird mixure of anxiety and relief flooding you. The noise and chaos is still a little too much, but his hand and side is warm against you and his cologne smells good.

Nevertheless, you’re relieved when the bartender slides Jeonghan a tray of shot glasses. You trail behind him, hand on his shirt, until you reach the table again. He gently nudges you to his old seat, taking the one next to Soonyoung once he’s passed out the glasses. You can breathe a little bit easier the rest of the night, while Soonyoung curls into Jeonghan’s side.

Three

You open the TikTok notification from Jeonghan at approximatley 1:30am, mostly because you were already scrolling through the app. You send a reaction back and almost immediately get a text. ‘Why on earth are you still up?’

Here in the comfort of your bedroom, there’s very little anxiety about responding to him. ’Can’t sleep. You?’

‘Same. Want to go on a walk?’

That’s how you find yourself strolling the streets in the middle of the night with Jeonghan by your side. He’s kept conversation light - the latest stories about your mutual friends, or what he’s working on at work without spoiling anything. He asks how your work is going and you squirm, stuffing your hands in your jacket pockets. You do your best to ignore his frown and careful stare.

“Stressful. Some serious deadlines coming up.”

He hums, understanding. Your sure he does understand, given what he does for a living. “Well, I’d ask if you’ve been sleeping… but here were are.” He chuckles and it makes you crack a small smile. “But you’ve been eating right?” Your hesitation is enough of an answer for him. He’s stopping at a street corner, nodding his head to the right. “Come on, there’s a 24 hour convenience store down here. We can get you something.”

You don’t budge, peering up at him. “No… I can’t really eat much when I’m like this. It’ll get better in a few days when the deadline has passed.”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrow. “Then come keep me company while I eat. I’m hungry.”

Fine. It’s not like you want to go home yet anyway. You trail after him in the dark and he holds the door open for you at the convenience store. There, he picks out some ramen and a couple onigiri. You sit across from him at one of the small tables in the store.

When he slides one of the onigiri to you, you frown. “It’s light. You should try to eat something.” Your stomach growls as if on cue and you huff. He’s smirking, but there’s something soft and not at all arrogant about his expression. “Come on. Just try it.”

You pick up the little triangular snack, peeling away the saran wrap. He’s right. It does make you feel better. He silently slides you the second onigiri and you scarf it down.

He buys you one more for the walk home on the way out of the convenience store.

Four

This time, you don’t expect to see Jeonghan. You’re out at the club again with a few of your friends. One of them recently got broken up with and this was an effort to cheer her up. It’s working because she’s already dancing with some guy, leaving you to escape the stuffy dance floor.

At the bar, you order something fruity, remembering that Jeonghan said you might like it more. It strikes you as kind of strange that you think of him as you wait for the drink. When the bartender slides you the drink, you take a sip and know Jeonghan was right. This is way more tolerable.

You turn to leave the bar, when a body blocks you. It’s big and bulky and the smell of strong cologne assaults your senses. Your body is already tense before you hear the man say, “Hey sweetheart, let me buy you a drink.”

He’s blocking your escape from the crowd at the bar and you kind of feel like a cornered animal. “Oh, no thank you,” you try to say confidently. “Just got one. I’m good. If you’ll excuse me.” You start to wedge between the space between him and the next person, but he’s moving to block you.

“Oh come on. I promise, I’m nice. We can go somewhere quieter to get to know each other.” Something about his tone and sleazy smile makes you cover your drink protectively.

“I’m good, I should get back to my friends.” There’s a bit of desperation in your tone that you can’t really hide now. The guy looks like he might become a bit irate at your rejection when he’s bumped to the side roughly and a hand comes to your back.

“Hi baby, sorry I”m late.”

Jeonghan’s inserted himself between you and the man, and despite being cramped against the wood of the bar, relief floods you. “It’s okay, I’m glad you made it.” You’re not sure what possesses you to play along, but the words spill out fast. Perhaps because it’s genuine. You really are glad Jeonghan is next to you now.

“Who’s this?” He asks lightly, looking at the guy. The stranger is shrinking away now, apologizing. It burns you up inside that your insistence wasn’t enough but Jeonghan’s presence as a fake boyfriend is. Jeonghan turns to the bar to order a drink and makes you turn with him. He leans down to your ear. “Are you okay?” You nod, not sure if it’s the whole truth. You can still smell the stranger’s overwhelming cologne nearby, so you lean into Jeonghan. If he’s thrown off by it, he doesn’t show it.

As soon as he has his drink in hand, he grabs your hand with the other, leading you away from the bar. His grip loosens once the crowd thins, but yours tightens, and he glances back, eyes a little wide. But he tightens his grip again, pulling you to a corner. You don’t release his hand and he lets you cling. “Did he say or do anything I should have hit him for?”

The words surprise you, but even more, the intensity of his look makes your eyes widen. “You would have hit him?”

He simply raises an eyebrow, beer bottle up to his lips. “Yeah. I’ll go do it right now if you want.”

“I don’t… but, Jeonghan. Why would you do that?”

Jeonghan’s jaw drops a little. “You can’t be serious, Y/N.” You just frown at him and he huffs. “I would do that in a heartbeat if someone made you uncomfortable. I don’t play fake boyfriend for just anyone.”

There’s something teasing about his tone, but his fingers are flexing around yours still. “But you’ll play fake boyfriend for me to help me get away from a creep?”

“I’ll play real boyfriend for you to help you get away from a creep.” He barks a laugh at the way your jaw drops. “Y/N, baby, you can’t be that dense. I’ve been into you for a long time.”

You stammer. “Jeonghan, why didn’t you say anything?”

He stares at you for a moment. “I kind of got the impression that you wouldn’t want me to, or anyone else for that matter.”

He’s right. You haven’t been interested in dating in so long for so many reasons. But there’s safety in standing close to him, even in a setting like this. You glance around the club for a moment before looking up at him. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You kind of expect a smirk, but instead he gives you a sweet grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan

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edenesth · 9 months ago

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[7:29 PM]

Stumbling into the shared apartment with Yeosang, you swiftly covered your mouth to suppress any whimpers upon seeing your boyfriend peacefully napping on the living room couch.

After carefully placing your heels by the shoe rack, you quietly tip-toed past his slumbering figure and slipped into your shared bedroom, closing the door behind you with utmost care to ensure he wasn't disturbed from his much-needed rest.

It was only upon reaching the sanctuary of your room that you collapsed onto the bed, tears streaming down your face as you cradled your injured arm close. It had been a horrible day, marked by a minor accident at work amidst ongoing tensions with your boss and difficult encounters with customers. Throughout the day, you struggled to keep yourself together, merely waiting for this moment to release all pent-up emotions.

As you sobbed into your pillows, the door to the room creaked open, causing you to panic. Swiftly wiping away your tears, you sat up, trying to compose yourself.

"Darling, you're back already? Why didn't you come say hi to me first, hm? I've been waiting," Yeosang's voice greeted you as he entered the cosy space, "You know you could've just woken me up..."

His words trailed off as he noticed your bandaged arm and tear-stained cheeks, "I-I'm sorry, Yeo, it's just—" You couldn't stop the sobs escaping your lips at the sight of his concerned expression, cursing yourself internally for being such a crybaby.

Hearing your anguished cries, his heart clenched, and he swiftly moved to join you on the bed. He pulled you close, showering your head with tender kisses, "Hey, hey, it's okay. What happened to your arm? Are you alright? Please, talk to me, darling."

Your sobs only grew stronger in response to his care. Nestling your head against his neck, you stuttered out, "One of my c-colleagues didn't see me approaching and accidentally s-swung her envelope opener toward me. I tried to shield myself with my arm, and that's how..." You gestured to your injured arm, feeling miserable.

"I'm so sorry, darling. Why didn't you tell me? I could have picked you up from work if I had known you were hurt. And don't try to hide it from me; I know that can't be the only reason you're upset." He whispered, his lips gently pressing against your temple as he offered a comforting squeeze, careful not to worsen the pain in your arm.

The following words that left your lips broke his heart, "I d-didn't want to burden you with something so trivial, Yeo. You're already s-so busy; my work troubles must seem insignificant compared to yours."

Drawing back a bit, he cupped your face, meeting your tear-filled gaze, "What did I tell you about thinking like that? Your problems, no matter how minor you think they are, bother me if they bother you. I never want you to keep things from me again, understand? Promise me you'll always come to me first, no matter what."

He couldn't help but chuckle when your only response to that was an adorable wail, finding your vulnerability endearing as you nuzzled your face against his shoulder once more, "Y-you're the best boyfriend ever, Yeo. I l-love you so much."

Placing a gentle kiss against your hair, he grinned softly, "I love you too, darling. More than you can imagine. Now, I want you to tell me every single thing that happened at your workplace today. I'm not usually one for aggression, but I won't hesitate to deal with anyone who dared make you cry."

With a light giggle, you pulled away slightly, "Oh, you wouldn't, you little Maltese."

You squealed as he playfully tackled you onto the bed, glad to see you lightening up and teasing again as he leaned in for a firm kiss.

"A Maltese, huh? I'll show you a Doberman."

ATEEZ Masterlist

This was super self-indulgent. I had a horrible day and ended up getting hurt in a rather similar fashion yesterday. Also wanted to show Yeosang some love after all the hate he's received for his role in my current Seonghwa series HAHA

Speaking of which, part 14 of The Way to His Heart should be out by this weekend! Hang in there, my lovelies! As always, thanks for reading and lmk your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @cereal-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid

#edenesth #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #kang yeosang #ateez yeosang #ateez timestamps #yeosang x reader #yeosang x you #ateez drabbles #yeosang drabble #yeosang fluff #ateez fic #ateez imagines

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hollybell51 · 2 years ago

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Don't bet on it

Navigation

Castiel x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005)

Word count: 9.6K (I'm shocked too dw)

Summary: I have no idea how to describe this I'm so sorry it's just smut. There's also some morning-after shenanigans. Believe me if I could I would but thinking of a title was hard enough.

Content: Just... pretty much 9.6K words of shameless Cas smut because I love him. Only one bed, porn with a plot, friends to lovers (sort of), little bit of hurt/comfort and first aid (?), Cas is a bit of warning honestly. Smut: Cas is a virgin, first kiss, making out, hickeys, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (yikes), fingering, very very light dirty talk, very loving very gentle sex, sharing a bed. Dean is a bit of an oblivious idiot, Sam is less oblivious.

Notes: I wrote this while trying to fall asleep at my friend's house and didn't proof read. I've also only known Cas for six episodes (almost seven), so most of the characterisation for him is based of gifsets, incorrect quotes, and other fanfics (so is the lore/plot because I'm not that far into the series yet but I was impatient so just ignore any mistakes or plot inconsistencies if you find them, although I did try). Hence it's probably bad. But oh well, this wouldn't leave my brain until I wrote it and like I said I'm impatient and also I'm a little bit proud of the smut alone and he's fucking hot I mean come on. Dean Winchester is a better man than me because god damn I would've jumped his bones the second he looked at me and I have no idea how he didn't. Be nice.

Cas was watching you. Again. It wasn’t like you minded, but something about his cool eyes following your movements from across the booth made butterflies swirl in your stomach. You were acutely aware of every single bubble in your glass of lemonade, every clink of the ice cubes, every slurpy noise it made through the straw you were sucking on. You probably looked a bit stupid, hunched over your drink and the plate that had contained your burger, the huge shirt you’d borrowed from Sam while the one you’d packed for yourself dried rolled up to your elbows, hanging off your shoulders way too much to ever be considered cute. Not that you wanted to look cute, and not that it mattered, but…

“There’s a pharmacy down the street,” Sam was saying. “They’d probably have more of that antiseptic, right?”

There was a pause in which you snuck a glance at Cas. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles clustering on your straw, mildly interested as they formed and floated away, formed and floated, again and again in an endless cycle. You’d never found bubbles so fascinating, but now that you looked – and you knew he was looking too – there’d never been anything so beautiful.

“(Y/N)?”

Right, yeah, antiseptic. The cut on your shoulder seemed to itch at the thought, prickling under the carefully applied dressing. You’d done it on a barbed wire fence that had barred the entry to a nest of vampires, and a day later Sam was still worried it would get infected. It wasn’t exactly a clean cut – the fence had been filthy, and your assurance that yes, you were up to date with tetanus shots had stopped him driving you to a hospital. You appreciated the concern, but really, you were sure it would be fine.

“Mhm,” you answered, leaning back in your seat. “D’you think it’ll still be open?”

Beside you, Dean frowned, looking around for a clock. “It’s not that late, right?”

“There’s an open sign in the window.” All eyes swung to Cas, who shrugged, pointing. “It’s lit up,” he added.

“Oh, right,” you said faintly. “Thanks Cas.”

He smiled, a tiny twitch of his lips that had no right to make your heart speed up as much as it did. “That’s ok.”

You smiled back. Your face seemed determined to ignore your brain and grin like an idiot, and it was a damn struggle to keep it to a normal expression.

“Right,” Sam said, clearing his throat and bursting the little bubble you could have sworn you’d been stuck in. You would have liked to stay there, where it was just Cas smiling at you. But no, you were being silly.

“Right,” you echoed. There was a slightly awkward silence, in which you swirled your straw around idly, watching Cas watch the movement of ice cubes and bubbles. When you’d first met him, you hadn’t really believed he was an angel. He seemed so… ordinary. Shabby, even. But the longer you were around him, the surer you’d become that he was the real deal. Strange, not what you’d expected at all, but a real honest-to-goodness angel nonetheless. Even now that he was human, there was still definitely something otherworldly in Cas. Something that, despite the grime and rust of the lives all four of you lead, was almost pure, precious to you, and a little unnerving all at once.

“Do you want some?” you asked, gesturing to your drink.

Cas’s eyes snapped up, almost guiltily.

You smiled. “Lemonade.”

He nodded slowly.

“Here.” You pushed the glass across the table, leaning your chin on your hands and watching as he moved the straw around, then sipped it. You’d been having way too much fun plying him with new things to taste, since food now actually tasted like… food. As opposed to molecules. Apparently.

He wrinkled his nose, drawing back and staring at the glass. Then he leaned forward again and took another sip. There was something in his near-childlike wonder that made your heart ache, the appearance of innocence and naivety so profound that it was hard to remember he was – had been – a soldier. A divine soldier of God. Watching him made you want to reach across the table and just… Well, you didn’t know what it made you want to do. Grab him, maybe? It didn’t matter.

“Any good?” Dean asked, watching Cas mildly.

“It’s very sweet,” he reported. “And sticky.”

Despite yourself, you laughed.

Cas surveyed you, then gave another of those little smiles you’d come to treasure. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving your face.

You cleared your throat, suddenly hyper aware of exactly where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. Not staring at – “mooning over” Dean had teasingly called it not even three days ago, a thought that still plagued you – Cas, that was for sure. You slid out of the booth, since you were the one who needed the antiseptic and you were on the edge. “I’ll go across, meet you back at the hotel.”

“You sure?” Sam asked, watching as you dropped some money on the table. Enough to cover your burger and a small portion of the tip.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.” You turned towards Cas, shooting him a small smile. He looked a little confused, and you couldn’t deny the pang of guilt that tugged at your insides. “You can finish that off,” you told him, “if you want.”

“Thankyou,” he said after a moment.

“Yeah, sure.” You nodded to Sam and Dean, the former of whom was staring between you and Cas with a look of what could only be described as incredulity plastered across his face. You were going to ignore it, you decided. “Seeya later,” you said, and left.

You stood before the motel room, shopping bag in hand, staring at Sam’s text. Had he and Dean done this deliberately? Was this some kind of conspiracy between the two of them?

“Room 09,” the message read, “you’re sharing with Cas.” And then, shortly after; “Don’t worry, it’s a double.”

Well, you thought, at least you wouldn’t have to share a bed, and at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt of Cas taking the couch – even though he insisted he didn’t mind, and refused to let you do it.

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the door swung open and there stood the former angel, still in his beige trench coat, tie and all. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off.

“Hi,” you said, slightly breathless. There was something stupidly endearing about the way he just stood there, looking at you.

“Hi,” he repeated. “Do you want to come in?”

“Uh, yeah.” Awkwardly, you squeezed past him into the dully lit room, switching on the light with your elbow. Had he just been sitting in here by himself, in the dark? You hoped not, but at the same time, it was exactly the sort of thing you could imagine him doing.

You deposited your groceries – the antiseptic, a new packet of dressings, painkillers, and a twix you’d grabbed at the counter. You’d figured you could share it with whoever your roomie was, and now you were glad you’d had that foresight. You turned, surveyed the room, then did a double take. Surely not. There had to be something you were missing.

But no, on closer inspection, your eyes were not deceiving you. There was only one bed. A double bed, sure, but still only one bed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you muttered, already reaching for your phone.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows.

“Sam said this was a double,” you told him.

“It is.”

“Yeah, but there’s only one bed. I always feel bad kicking you to the couch.”

“I don’t mind. And besides,” he added, “you’ve never kicked me.”

“No it’s–” you broke off, catching his smile. “Yeah, alright”

The smile widened. He was a little too proud of himself for your liking.

You looked away, hoping to hide your own grin as you dialled Sam’s number. “You said it was a double,” you accused before he could even greet you.

“Yeah, hi to you too,” he snorted. “It is.”

“There’s only one bed, Sam. Does your room have only one bed?”

“No, we’ve got two singles.”

“Lucky you,” you practically spat. “Now I’m gonna have to live with the guilt of knowing Cas is on the couch.”

“So?” You could almost hear the frown in Sam’s voice. “He doesn’t mind.”

“I know, but–”

“Share the bed with him if it bothers you that much,” he cut you off. In the background, Dean was saying something. Sam shushed him. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.”

“What’s that supposed to–”

He interrupted you again, all too cheerful. “You’ll sort it out.”

You stared at the phone, “call ended” flashing up at you. “Fuck you, Sam,” you sighed.

By the door, Cas frowned. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” you sighed again, grabbing the dressings and antiseptic and taking a seat on the end of the singular bed. Through the gap in the curtains, the sky was darkening from the pale purple it had been at the diner to a deep indigo. “Just… Sam.”

Cas nodded solemnly, as if he knew exactly what you meant.

You tried not to pay too much attention to him as you unbuttoned Sam’s shirt, sliding it down off your shoulder to bare the current dressing. You’d had it on all that day and the night before, so you figured it was time to change it. Gently, you peeled back the adhesive, hissing as the air brushed over the cut. It wasn’t as bad as it had been, mostly scabbed over and less raw-looking than when you’d first applied the dressing, but it was still tender. It was awkward to reach too, running from your shoulder along your collarbone, stopping just shy of the centre of the sternum. Stupid, you’d cursed yourself when you’d done it, and you cursed yourself again now.

“Would you like some help?”

You looked up, meeting Cas’s eyes. Soundlessly, he’d crossed the room and was now standing directly in front of you.

He gestured to the cut. “It looks hard to reach.”

“Uh, yeah, it is.” You shifted over, making room for him beside you. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He sank down beside you, his weight tilting you towards him. Your stomach lurched.

Determinedly dismissing it, you turned slightly to face him, one leg dangling off the side of the bed, the other folded under you. Almost immediately you wished you hadn’t done it, because now all you could see was him, bent over you, his face impassive and focused to a fault.

He took the antiseptic from you, gently dabbing it along the edges of the scab.

“Is that alright?” he asked when you gasped softly.

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just… stings a little.”

Guilt flashed across his face. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s not you. You’re fine,” you assured him. “It’s the antiseptic, it’s normal.”

“Should I keep going?”

You nodded, your heart racing. His skin was cool where it brushed yours, the shitty lighting somehow playing tricks with the colours in his eyes, making them appear even more startlingly blue than usual. Those eyes were fixed on your cut, like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“I wish you’d taken me with you,” he said as he reached for a dressing pad.

“Hm?” You frowned, unsure what he meant. You’d gone alone, which wasn’t why you’d fumbled crossing the fence, but it certainly hadn’t helped. Sam and Dean had been after a demon in the next town over – it took precedence over vampires, you all knew that – and Cas had been with them. You’d been convinced you’d be alright to tackle such a small nest, it was only three, barely a nest at all, and had insisted on it. But still, you’d been a bit more wired than usual, and that was probably to blame for your bungled entrance. It didn’t matter now, you were fine. They were dead.

He shrugged, smoothing the dressing over your skin more gently than you’d ever thought possible. “On the hunt. I wish you’d taken me with you.”

“Nah,” you shook your head, trying to dispel the ache his action caused inside you. “You had other stuff on. You don’t need to be wasting time running after a nest of vampires, demons take priority.” You smiled. “You’ve got more to worry about than a silly little hunter who can’t jump fences.”

Cas looked up, that little wrinkle reappearing on his forehead. “That’s not true,” he said, “I’ll always have time for you. I’ll always worry about you.”

You froze, taken aback by the… intimacy of the words. You’d mentioned before that you liked when people just said what they meant (“Even if it hurts you?” he’d asked, frowning. You’d said that you’d rather that than be left searching for double meanings and hidden clues, and he’d seemed to find that acceptable.), and since then he’d indulged you in that regard. But this felt different, it felt more real than anything he’d ever said to you before. He’d always have time for you, he worried about you.

“Really?” you asked. “You mean that?”

He nodded, his eyes sincere where he held your gaze. There was something here, you knew, something tingling in the air between you. You’d half thought you were imagining things when you noticed him looking at you. You’d chalked it up to him being, well, Cas, and hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell too long on the glimmer of hope that it was more than that. And he’d been an angel for Pete’s sake; divine, untouchable, totally out of your reach. But here, now, with his hand resting where it had settled on your thigh and his face inches from yours, the dimness of the motel somehow illuminating every dancing fleck of colour in his eyes, every beautiful shadow and line on his – human – face, you weren’t ignoring it any longer.

His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You’re important to me, (Y/N).”

Oh. Oh. There it was.

He was still looking at you, but there was a hint of what you would have said was nervousness, maybe apprehension, mixed with the sincerity and lingering concern in his eyes. It was so… raw. You felt strangely vulnerable, while at the same time like you were seeing something you weren’t supposed to.

Involuntarily, your eyes flicked down to his lips, your breath hitching in your chest. Fuck it, you thought, then closed the few inches of space between you and pressed your lips to his.

He was completely motionless, and for a wild moment you were convinced you’d grossly misread something and had just made a massive mistake. Then it was like he was coming to life beneath you, pushing back against you, his lips parting under yours, his free hand finding its place cupping your cheek. His mouth was soft, impossibly soft. His tongue, when you brushed against it with your own, tasted like your lemonade.

It was near dead silent in the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant thrumming of traffic outside the only noises. Then, as you slid your hand up over his leg, fingers squeezing gently at his thigh, Cas made a sound.

It was halfway between a sigh and moan, tiny and restrained, and you could feel him hesitate in the kiss. This is new, it said. This is nice. You let your lips curve into the smile they’d been trying to, squeezing again. It’s alright, you told him with your hand, you’re alright.

You drew back momentarily, sucking a quick breath as Cas chased you, his hand on the back of your neck pulling you closer and closer and closer and closer and impossibly closer until your chest met his. Then you were shifting into his lap, swinging your leg over his and straddling his hips like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. It sure felt like it.

“Cas,” you breathed, breaking away properly this time and raising your hands to cup his face. “Castiel.”

“Hm?”

You moved your thumb in a soft arc over his cheekbone, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His lips found your hand, peppering your palm and wrist with featherlight kisses.

“Can I?” you asked, reluctantly freeing a hand to push at the trench coat he was still wearing.

He looked up, frowning. “What?”

“Take it off,” you whispered, then heat rose in your cheeks. “If you want to, of course. If you want this. You don’t have to.”

He shook his head, pulling back to shrug off the heavy piece of clothing. The blazer followed. He loosened his tie, then seemed to think for a moment before undoing it altogether. It was the first time you’d seen him without it, and he looked… different. Unguarded, almost. Then he was reaching up and unfastening the buttons of his shirt, torturously slowly. He paused, meeting your eyes.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You smiled, nodding. You’d been staring, you realised, watching his deft fingers work at the material so intently that you hadn’t been thinking about what would show on your face. You took over, finishing off the last few fastenings and pushing the shirt back off his shoulders. You didn’t know what you’d expected his body to look like. You’d had the vague notion that it would be nice, that it would somehow match the rest of him, and you hadn’t been wrong, but now that he was in front of you that same disconcerting feeling of unearthliness haunted the back of your mind. This was Cas, Castiel, and that made it somehow hallowed – irony aside.

“Are you alright?” He was peering up at you, apprehensive.

You nodded. “Are you?”

He echoed your gesture, his fingers running along the collar of your own shirt. A question, a request, testing the waters.

Careful of your still-tender shoulder, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it smoothly over your head, then undid your bra and cast it to the side. Cas’s eyes snapped to your chest, interest and a sort of hunger mixing on his face. Hesitantly, slowly, his hand inched up your waist to your ribs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He paused.

“It’s ok,” you breathed. When he still seemed wary, you reached down and took his hand in your own, guiding it to your breast and giving a gentle squeeze. His breath hitched, his tongue darting out between his lips.

“I’m…” he broke off, swallowing hard. He shifted, a hard bulge pressing against your thigh. You smiled.

“Hm?”

“I’m… I’m kind of…” He stopped again, floundering.

“It’s alright, Cas. You’re alright.”

He looked up, something close to nervousness dancing across his face. “I haven’t done this before,” he whispered. “I don’t know…”

Oh. Right. Why hadn’t you thought of that? It made sense, you supposed. Despite Dean’s best efforts, Cas hadn’t picked up the other guy’s… habits, at least not yet. You’d wondered about it briefly before coming to the conclusion that it had to be an angel thing, a choice on his behalf. You knew some people didn’t want that with just anyone, which you could understand. What you couldn’t understand was a world where nobody was interested in Cas, but then again, you might have been biassed.

You bit your lip. “Do you want to? It’s ok if you don’t.”

“I do,” he said, his hand still resting on your chest. “I really do, (Y/N). But I don’t know… what to do.”

“I’ll help you,” you assured him, affection blooming in your gut. And alongside it, an odd sort of pride. Cas was trusting you here, enough to admit he didn’t know what to do. It was more than any guy you’d ever been with had been willing to give away.

“We’ll go slow,” you continued. “You tell me what you like, what feels good. If you wanna stop, you say so, ok?”

He nodded.

You took his face in your hands again, running your fingers over the rough stubbled coating his jaw. “Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he murmured.

You trailed your hand down his neck, along his collar bone, over his chest. His skin was soft, smooth. It wasn’t scarred like Dean or Sam’s or your own, and suddenly you wondered if that was somehow a turn off for him. He’d been an angel, immortal, eternal, unblemished even now. If he hadn’t done this before, or even if he had with a normal human, he probably wouldn’t have encountered the kind of skin a hunter such as yourself possessed. Would it bother him?

Then his chest heaved under your hand, the flesh twitching as your touch crept lower, sideways, up again, mapping the expanse of his torso. He moaned softly as you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, fingers splayed over his heart. Again, you swept down the centre of his body, all thoughts of your own imperfections dashed from your mind as you revelled in the little hums of pleasure you were coaxing from him.

Carefully, slowly, you inched lower. You passed his belly button, the light trail of hair that led down from it, finally encountering his belt buckle. You paused, tracing aimless patterns over the skin just above the waistline of his pants, pushing your fingers below the material after a moment.

“Is this alright?” you asked, watching his face. His eyes were closed, his lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed.

“Mhm,” he sighed. “Yes.”

You smiled. God, he was beautiful. “You wanna take ‘em off?”

At that, his eyes snapped open, the pupils so wide they almost obscured the blue of his irises. “My pants?” he asked.

You nodded. “You don’t have to, but…” You ran your hand lightly over the increasingly noticeable bulge you could feel. “I can touch you? Here.”

He stared. “Do you want to?”

You gave a little huff of laughter, nodding. “Only if you do. I can keep touching you other places if you want, I can kiss you…” You stopped as he deftly reached down and undid his belt, button and fly in one fluid motion, lifting his hips momentarily and kicking off his pants. It was very fast, impressively smooth. And underneath…

Your mouth watered at the sight. The outline of his cock straining against his underwear, a small wet patch already forming. You usually didn’t indulge the mantra of “bigger is better”, especially not when it came to penises, but there was no denying that your pussy was already aching at the thought of the stretch Cas’s would cause. Not that it was a behemoth, far from it, but he was certainly well endowed.

His voice snapped you from your reverie, jerking your gaze away from his dick and back to his face. “Is that…” he paused, searching your gaze anxiously. “Is it alright?”

Your heart melted. “Oh, Cas,” you sighed. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. Just perfect.”

A sound that could only be described as whine slipped from his still kiss-bruised lips, sending a bolt of heat shooting down your spine to pool between your legs. Before the request had formed on your tongue, he shed his underwear too, leaving himself bare to you.

“Have you touched yourself?” you asked, jerking your gaze from his cock. Fuck, you’d never wanted to lay hands on a dick more in your life.

Cas looked away for a moment. “No,” he said. “Should I have?”

You shook your head. “It’s up to you. I’d like to, if you’re ok with it.”

“Touch me?”

“Mhm.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, then nodded.

“Ok.” Dammit, you thought. If this was his first time, you wanted him to feel good. Would he tell you if he didn’t? You thought he would, he was always honest when you asked him to be, and he clearly wanted this. But it was that same want that made you wonder if he’d just keep going no matter what, and you didn’t want that.

You quickly spat into your hand, stretching up, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. Then, on second thoughts, you licked softly at his bottom lip. His breath rushed against your skin, the kiss hot and messy and barely even a kiss at all. It was more you licking into Cas’s mouth, Cas experimenting with his tongue in yours. After a few tries he found a rhythm, soft and supple, gentle and careful. Wonderful.

It was then that you reached down with your spit-lubed hand, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing length, coating the whole thing with moisture. There was already a little precum beading on the tip, and you used that too, your hand sliding easily. The skin here was smooth too, apart from the thick veins and swell of the head, the slit that you ran your thumb over, causing Cas to moan – really moan – into your mouth.

“Like this?” you murmured, moving your kisses away from his lips, over his stubble-roughed jaw, down to his neck. You sucked gently at the hollow under his jaw bone, hot and wet, leaving a red mark behind. You moved further down, over his jugular, more and more hickeys blossoming in your wake.

“Ah, (Y/N), yes–” Cas gasped. “Oh, just like that, please.”

You hummed softly, his breathlessness coupled with the words themselves like fog clouding your mind. All you wanted was more. More of his ragged voice, more of the desperate pleading, more of his hips jerking up into your hand and as your fingers slid smoothly over his cock. Your mouth paused at the base of his throat, made more apparent by the strain in his neck – the Plender gap, you thought it might have been called. You could vaguely picture that word with an arrow pointing to the spot on a medical diagram, although you weren’t sure why – and sucked a particularly dark hickey into the skin there. His collar would cover it in the morning.

His hand, which had been flitting about your waist, suddenly found its way to your hair. His fingers tangled in it, pulling your head back up so he could kiss you again. You smiled, your own free hand squeezing at his thigh just as you had before.

He moaned again, deep in the back of his throat, the sound reverberating through your whole body. How had you waited this long? If you’d known it’d be like this, you’d have jumped his bones the second you laid eyes on him. Hell, you’d wanted to.

“Can I use my mouth?” you asked between kisses – they still weren’t really kisses by any stringent definition, too messy for that.

“You are, hm, using your mouth,” Cas pointed out.

You laughed. It was so… matter of fact. “I mean down here,” you explained, giving his dick a gentle squeeze. “I can keep doing this if you want, but…”

“But?”

“I wanna taste you, Cas,” you smiled.

His mouth fell open, his cheeks colouring. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was new to this, you supposed. “Taste me?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, ducking forward to nip at his lip. “Wanna feel you in my mouth, wanna choke on your cock. I’ll make you feel so good, Cas, I promise.”

“(Y/N).” His voice was even more gravelly than usual, roughened by the raw desire glinting in his eyes.

“Mhm?”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s sweet,” you laughed again. “I’m sure, Cas. Remember you can stop me whenever you want, though, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Alright?”

He kissed you again, more gently and with more precision than before, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

You felt a grin break across your face, your mouth already watering. You didn’t waste time, giving Cas a quick peck on the cheek before sliding off the edge of the bed and kneeling between his legs, your arms resting comfortably on his thighs. You ignored the slight pull of your cut, taking his cock once more in your hand and pumping it gently, once, twice, three times before you lowered your head and kissed the tip.

Cas’s stomach twitched, his hand going once more to your hair as his breath caught in his throat.

“Alright?” you asked, your own breath ghosting over the sensitive area, raising goosebumps.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Keep going?”

You smiled. “Magic word?”

“Please,” he practically growled.

Alright then. You slid your lips over him, relaxing your mouth as you sank as far down his length as you could. What wouldn't fit in your mouth was taken care of by one hand, the other busy holding his hips down. He nearly whined when you moved, bobbing your head back and forth slowly at first, but faster by the minute.

“Oh,” he panted, “oh, (Y/N), yes–”

“Good?” you mumbled, but it didn’t come out sounding like the original word at all. Still, Cas seemed to get the point.

“So good, feels so good. You feel so good, (Y/N), you have no idea.”

The praise went straight to your panties, pooling with the rest of the hot wetness that had been gathering steadily. You’d wanted to take your time, be as careful and gentle as he’d been with you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure.

“Oh,” he whispered again as you sped up, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. He dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, the saltiness of his precum mixing with the lingering sweetness of your lemonade.

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Cas’s hips despite his best efforts to stay still, as well as your hand attempting to hold him down. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, relaxing completely.

“(Y/N),” he panted. “(Y/N).”

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos as his fingers tightened in your hair.

“You look… ah, so…” He paused, the words choked by another moan as your tongue swirled around his cock. “So beautiful.”

For the second time, your heart felt like it was melting in your chest. You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You were gonna make him cum in your mouth, you were determined. And after that – if he wanted, of course – you’d spread your legs for him and let him fuck you senseless.

He was close, he was so damn close, cock twitching and fingers clutching desperately at you despite his best attempts to be gentle. “I’m–” He broke off, gasping. “So much, (Y/N), it’s so much.”

You wondered if you should stop, if you should pull back and ask if he was ok. If he’d never done this before and hadn’t touched himself either, it was unlikely that he’d ever experienced an orgasm. Maybe you should reassure him. You ran your free hand down his thigh, squeezing gently. It’s alright, you tried to say with the gesture, hoping he’d understand. I’ve got you, you’re alright.

Then he was groaning deeply, his head thrown back and his eyes closed, thighs shaking under you and hot saltiness shooting down your throat. His skin shone with sweat, his chest heaving, his hand gripping your hair so tight it almost – almost – hurt. But it couldn’t have, not when your throat was working to swallow every drop of what he was giving you, not when he looked so beautiful laid out bare above you, not when you could see the pure, raw pleasure painted on his face.

As gently as you could, you drew back and licked him clean. You rested your head on his thigh, placing a soft kiss there, then drew back and sat, waiting.

Finally, Cas opened his eyes and looked at you. He took in your swollen lips, the flush you could feel dusting your cheeks, the tears that had leaked from your eyes, the bird’s nest that was your hair. And he smiled, reaching out a hand to help you up.

“Are you alright?” you asked, settling back on the bed beside him. You took his hands, holding them close to you. “It wasn’t… too much?”

“It was wonderful,” he said solemnly. Then he looked away. “Can I…”

“Yeah?” you prompted. “Can you…?”

He turned back, meeting your eyes. “I want to make you feel like that, too.”

Your stomach did a flip. “Oh.”

“Will you show me?” Cas’s eyes searched yours, curious and sincere. And how the hell could you say no to him?

You nodded, unbuttoning your pants and casting them off – admittedly with much less grace and efficiency than Cas. After a moment’s hesitation you did the same to your underwear, dropping them carelessly over the edge of the bed. You could hunt for them in the morning.

He was watching you the whole time, eyes following every movement you made in that way that was so him. You’d been unnerved by it before you’d gotten to know him, but now it just turned you on.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and ran his hand over your stomach, up, up, up until he reached your breast. He didn’t stop as he had before, his thumb skimming your hard nipple, making you suck in a harsh breath.

“Is this alright?” he asked.

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“What about this?” He slid lower, past your belly button to where your leg joined your hip. It sent tingles running through your whole body.

“Mhm.��

“This?” Lower still, over your thigh, along the inside of it, so close to where you wanted him most.

“Yeah, Cas, you don’t have to ask.”

“I want you to feel–”

You stopped him with a kiss, brief and gentle. “Whatever you do is gonna feel great, ok?”

“But I’m–”

“Cas.”

He fell silent when you placed your hand on his face, leaning into your touch.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered. “I’m gonna help you, remember?”

He nodded, leaning forwards to press his lips against yours. He was getting pretty good at kissing, you noted. Not that he’d been bad when you’d started, but he’d figured out what worked with you.

“Show me,” he urged, the hand that had been tracing over your leg finding yours. “Show me where to touch you.”

This is it, you thought as he drew back, watching where his fingers twined with your own. He had officially smashed apart your standards for all men – and former angels – with just six words. You did as he asked, drawing his hand down between your legs to your now practically drenched pussy.

“Here,” you murmured, a little shock going through you as your fingers brushed your clit.

Cas’s eyes were wide, the pleasure-haze from his orgasm all but gone now. “Here?” he confirmed, pressing gently at the stiff little bundle of nerves.

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice much less steady than you’d have liked.

“Like this?” He slid his finger in a careful circle around it, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Yes, Cas, just like that.”

He did it again, then again and again. You sucked a harsh breath through your teeth, your hips twitching involuntarily.

“Fuck,” you moaned. “Fuck, Cas.”

“Is this alright?” he asked mildly.

“More than alright,” you half laughed, half panted. You broke off in another moan as he moved his hand, sliding the tips of his fingers around your hole, his palm pressing against your clit. You briefly wondered if he was doing it deliberately or just experimenting, and if he’d heard something about how to finger girls somewhere. If so, you wanted to know where. But, you thought a moment later, who really cared when it felt so damn good?

“Can I?” he murmured, watching your face carefully.

“Yeah,” you nodded frantically. “Yeah, go ahead— please.” The word was torn from you in a way that made colour bloom over Cas’s face as he pushed his finger into you. The heel of his hand was still pressing on your clit, and you ground down on it in a desperate search for friction as he added another finger, your own fingers digging into his shoulders and your breath coming in short gasps.

“Am I…” he started, then swallowed. “Is this good?”

“So fucking good,” you replied. “How the fuck are you so good at this?” It was ridiculous, unfair. Most dudes who’d tried had lamely poked at you until you’d given up trying to show them and just moaned loudly, leaving them to grin smugly, convinced they’d made you cum. Cas, however, was well on his way to conjuring the real thing.

He looked away for a moment, a small satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Good, you thought. He should be satisfied, he was fucking phenomenal. “I’m not sure,” he said.

It was your turn to smile. “Well you are,” you said simply. Then he moved his hand again and all you could think was fuck, because he really was incredible. He was kissing your neck, sucking at the spot where it met your shoulder, his other hand resting on your hip as you rocked against him, his own soft moans mixing with yours.

And God, you wanted him to fuck you.

“Hold on,” you panted. Much as his fingers were doing it for you, you couldn’t fight the shiver the thought of his cock buried inside you sent down your spine.

Cas froze immediately.

“No, no, it’s ok,” you assured him quickly. “I wanna try something else.”

“Is this not–”

“You’re doing great,” you interrupted. “I promise. But…” As before, you slid your hand gently down to palm at the already half-formed erection sitting between his legs.

Cas frowned.

“Would you like to fuck me?” you asked tentatively. You hated how unsure you sounded, how small.

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face.

“Only if you want to,” you added quickly. But from the way his dick had visibly hardened at your words, you guessed he probably did. So, you continued, “I’d like it if you did.”

Again, his tongue darted out over his lips. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’d like it too.”

“Ok, what are we waiting for?” You smiled, shuffling backwards and easing yourself back on the bed. When you saw that Cas wasn’t following, you reached over and took his hand, dragging him down on top of you. “Come on,” you encouraged.

He gave a little “oof” as he crashed against you, quickly propping himself up above you. It looked uncomfortable.

“Relax,” you said, wriggling into the mattress and running your hands over his arms and shoulders. “It’s alright.”

“I don’t want to squash you.”

You smiled, pulling at him to come closer. “You won’t, don’t worry.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Besides, I wouldn’t mind.”

He snorted indignantly. “I would. Then whose lemonade would I steal?”

You laughed at that. Castiel, former divine soldier of God, joking about stealing your lemonade while he was about to fuck you. If you’d gone back and told yourself from a year ago, she’d have slapped you in the loony bin. “You could just order your own,” you pointed out.

“I could,” he conceded. “But I will not.”

“Ok, I don’t mind.” You stretched up, capturing his lips with your own and drawing him down towards you. What you’d said was true, he really didn’t need to worry about squashing you. You liked the warm weight of him, the firmness and certainty that his body pressed against yours brought, his arms caging you to the bed.

You smiled as his tongue slid along your bottom lip, opening your mouth almost immediately. Yeah, he knew what he was doing now. You hooked your leg over his, pulling his hips hard against your own. You were still tingling, still electrified with want and need from having deprived yourself of his fingers just minutes before, and almost without your conscious awareness you ground against him.

You swallowed the little moan that slipped from his mouth, rubbing your wetness over his hard cock.

“(Y/N),” he gasped, breaking the kiss, his hips moving in time with yours.

“Cas,” you echoed, equally as breathless. “Please?”

He swallowed, his eyes dark.

“I want you inside me,” you continued. “Please, Cas, I need you inside me. Now.”

He cursed softly, so softly the only thing you caught was the tone. You wondered what angels cursed by. Not God, surely. But it didn’t matter, because he was taking himself in hand and lining up at your entrance, looking at you for permission. “Here?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Gently, so gently, he pushed inside you. You gave a little whimper that might have been embarrassing in any other situation at the stretch, the delicious feeling of being filled up completely by him. Cas, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even breathing, just staring at the place where your body swallowed his, his eyes wide.

“Hey,” you said softly, smiling at him when his eyes met yours. “You alright down there?”

“Yes,” he whispered, running a hand reverently over your stomach. His fingers brushed over your scars, some silver, some a newer pale pink. Your earlier doubts fluttered to the front of your mind, but you determinedly pushed them away. Now was not the time.

“You can move,” you told him, rocking your hips gently against his by way of demonstration. Then, “Please?”

He nodded, one hand resting on your hip as he pulled out a little, sliding smoothly back in. He hummed quietly, did it again, then again and again and again, finding his rhythm. It was good, it was as gentle as everything else, firm enough to pull at that special place deep in your belly, steady and decisive. Most of all, it was Cas. Cas fucking you, Cas’s cock sending spasms of heat through your body, Cas’s hand steadying himself and you, Cas’s lovely gravelly voice mumuring your name.

He leant further over you, bending his head to place a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the cut-free side of your collar bone, following it with another, more forceful one, then more until you were sure you looked like someone had spilt wine over your chest. You supposed it was only fair, given how many love bites you’d showered him with.

“Shit, Cas,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair. You’d always wanted to fix it, stroke it down, maybe make it worse. When you’d first met him you’d gone so far as to tell him to his face that it was “un-angelic”. He’d been amused by that.

Now, he groaned against your skin. You smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut.

“I’m so close,” you whispered, and you were. The tightness was building in your stomach, coiling and swirling into a dense knot of pleasure. Every movement Cas made had his pelvis hitting your clit, the bedhead hitting the wall behind it – you briefly felt bad for the next room’s residents – and Cas’s cock hitting deep inside you. The only sounds were the squeaking of the mattress – again, you felt bad – and the wet slap of skin on skin, peppered with your combined moans and sighs.

“Fuck, Cas,” you gasped, your voice rising in pitch as you spiralled closer, closer… “Oh, shit, fuck, oh my God, Cas, Cas, I’m gonna cum, holy shit I’m gonna– Castiel!”

You let go, your eyes screwed tightly shut, spine arching off the bed as the bomb inside you exploded. Sparks fizzed through your veins, every muscle in your body clenching as stars speckled your vision and you cried Cas’s name over and over like some kind of mantra.

He hadn’t stopped, in fact he’d sped up, and when your mind finally crashed back into your body his hips were stuttering, his face buried in your neck. He spilled inside you, hot and thick as it had been in your mouth, a deep groan thrumming through you from where his lips still rested on your chest. He stilled after a moment, still holding most of his weight off you despite your arms wrapped around his back, whispering your name like it was a prayer.

You wriggled sideways, smiling as he went limp and flopped down beside you. Well, sort of beside you. His head and the better part of his shoulders still rested over your chest, his lips ghosting over you in feather light kisses, his hand running up and down your arm.

“We should get cleaned up,” you whispered after a moment.

“Hm?”

“Clean up,” you repeated. “We’re all sticky.”

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “alright then.”

You extricated yourself, squeezing his shoulder gently as you rose and headed for the bathroom. You debated pulling him into the shower with you, but as your eyes settled on the folded washcloth by the sink you scrapped that idea. This would be quicker and easier, and you were tired, dammit. There’d be other opportunities — at least you hoped there would be.

You wiped yourself down, turning to find Cas standing in the doorway. The flickering yellow neon strip of illumination above the mirror cast weird shadows over his body, still shining with exertion. Beautiful, even with the medley of hickeys on his neck and the mess of his and your cum around his crotch.

You beckoned him closer, spongeing away the sweat and other spunk coating his skin. Occasionally you’d look up, without fail meeting his eyes. The usual interest had been replaced with something more; something whole and warm and just for you. The thought made your heart skip a beat.

When you were finished, you stretched up and kissed him again, just once. Then you took his hand, heading back towards the bed.

He hesitated, and you turned. He was looking at the couch, indecision marring his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I assumed you’d want the bed to yourself,” he shrugged. “You usually don’t share”

Oh, ok. “Usually, yeah,” you replied, as casually as you could. “But I wanna share with you.” You looked down at your still joined hands, pulling gently. “Stay?”

After a moment, he nodded.

It took longer than it should have to sort out the stupidly layered sheets and blankets, but finally you were both finished wriggling and shifting around, comfortably facing each other. You smiled at him, taking his hand again.

“I wondered what it would feel like to lie beside you, while you slept. You looked so… at peace.” He leaned forward the few inches between you, his lips cool against your forehead. “Beautiful.”

Your voice was quieter than you’d meant it to be, and breathier. “You watch me sleep?”

“It’s hard not to.” It may have been your imagination, but he sounded a little guilty.

You laughed, leaning forward to whisper, “That’s a little creepy, Cas.”

“Should I not have?”

“I don’t mind,” you said after a pause, “but maybe try not to mention things like that. Most people would find it weird.”

“You don’t?”

You shook your head. “Not when it’s you.” The hand that had been holding his was free now, sliding up to cup his face almost of its own volition. You pressed your lips to his, softly and slowly, sweet as syrup. You shifted closer still, draping your arm over him.

“Because I’m important to you, too?” he asked when you drew back. His eyes searched yours in the dimness, sincere and open. God, he was just… so much.

You smiled. “Yeah, Cas, you sure are.”

You woke to a hand running over your shoulder, the rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek and the steady beating of a heart. Cas’s heart, Cas’s chest, Cas’s hand.

“Hi,” you whispered, sitting up. His hand ceased its movements, his lips curling into a gentle smile.

“Hello.”

You dipped down, kissing him softly, your finger tracing the outline of his lips when you drew away. “Sleep well?”

He sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze found yours again. “Better than I ever have before. Thank you, (Y/N).”

“That’s alright.” You looked away, heat rushing to your face. “It was my pleasure.”

“I can see why you – humans – like it so much.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Sex,” he explained. “I think I get it now.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “Well, that was pretty good sex. For someone who’s never done it before, you were amazing.”

“Really?” He leaned back, surveying your face carefully.

You nodded. “And anyway,” you went on, “it usually feels better when it’s someone who’s…”

He waited, watching you stumble over your words.

“You know…” You paused, swallowing, half wishing you’d just left it at telling him he was good. “Someone who’s special to you,” you finished lamely.

“Well,” he said after a moment, “then I’m glad it was you.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that, so you just smiled and kissed him again. It was slow and lazy, his bare chest silken under your own, nothing but the soft rush of breath and tiny hum he gave, the rustle of the sheets, the ticking of the motel room clock. Then your phone rang.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered as you broke away, giving Cas a final apologetic peck before making your way to the table where you’d dumped it. Sam’s name flashed on the screen.

“What do you want?” you growled.

“Breakfast,” he answered. “What’s up your ass?”

“I was sleeping” you answered smoothly, then, “I don’t like being woken up.”

He snorted. “Yeah, alright. Meet us outside in, say, twenty minutes?”

You glanced at Cas, who was now sitting up and, you guessed it, watching you. You squished the phone to your chest. “Breakfast in twenty?” you asked.

He nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You couldn’t help staring just a little as he went about getting dressed, drinking in every rapidly disappearing inch of skin like some kind of sexually repressed Victorian maiden.

“Sure,” you said to Sam, then hung up. The problem that you hadn’t thought through last night was the hickeys. You had a scarf, you could button your shirt over your chest, and thankfully Cas had shown more restraint than you had. The most problematic mark sat right in the hollow under his jaw, two love bites blending together. It wasn’t even hickey-shaped, really, but you didn’t think that’d fool Dean and Sam.

“What’s wrong?” Cas asked, fastening the final button on his shirt.

“Nothing,” you sighed. “But Dean’s gonna give us endless – and I mean endless – shit.”

“You’ve killed demons, (Y/N),” he smiled. “And you still can’t deal with Dean’s endless shit?”

“Oi! I can, I just don’t want to.” You crossed the room, poking him square in the chest. “And you’re gonna be dealing with it too, so don’t get cocky.”

“We’ll deal with it together.” It was tentative, almost a question.

You smiled, taking his hands. “Castiel and (Y/N) vs Dean Winchester’s endless shit. I can work with that.”

Things were a little strange over breakfast. Sam and Dean kept glancing at each other, having their annoying silent conversations that consisted of raised eyebrows and side-eyes, the occasional jerk of the head or twist of the mouth. Self consciously, you re-adjusted your scarf, pointedly not meeting anyeone’s eyes. You’d almost made the call not to sit next to Cas, but then he’d looked up at you from his spot by the window and you didn’t stand a chance. You were grateful for your decision when the food came, it made sharing with him a lot easier.

“Dude,” Sam said suddenly, twisting to face his brother and nearly taking out his glass of water. The eyebrow raising and eye-widening had gotten more intense in the last minute, and clearly they’d hit a boiling point.

“It’s not a hickey!” Dean protested. “It’s not even hickey-shaped!”

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth.

“What?” Cas voiced your thoughts, frowning over the cup of coffee he was nursing.

Sam sighed. “Cas, look out the window for a second.”

“Hey–” you started, but you were too late. Both Sam and Dean’s eyebrows shot halfway up their foreheads, and Cas was dutifully peering through the glass. Why did he choose now of all times to listen to Sam?

“That’s a hickey,” the younger man was claiming triumphantly, nodding to the stain on Cas’s neck.

Dean whistled softly. “That’s two hickeys. It’s like… a Siamese hickey.”

“Gross, Dean,” you muttered, ignoring the heat in your cheeks.

He shrugged. “It’s a beautiful, natural act, (Y/N), lighten up. Congratulations, Cas. Who’s the lucky girl?”

Sam made a noise like he was choking. You studied your hands on the table in front of you. Dean grinned. Cas didn’t say anything.

“Was it that waitress?” Dean asked, leaning forwards. “She was cute, man, I’d have tapped that.”

“No, it wasn’t the waitress.”

Dean frowned, then his eyes widened. “The hotel receptionist?” he whispered. “Dude, she was a milf. Nice one.”

“Dean…” Sam started, looking between you and Cas. You glared.

“What? He deserves a pat on the back. I gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you had it in you.”

Sam sighed. “I don’t think it was the hotel receptionist.”

“No? Who else?”

Again, he glanced at you. You hadn’t moved, stiff as a statue and bracing for impact. You were so close to just spitting it out right there, biting the bullet and getting it over with. But you hadn’t discussed that with Cas, and you couldn’t exactly do so now.

Dean was looking expectantly at Sam, who was shaking his head in disbelief. You couldn’t blame him. Then, as if in slow motion, Dean’s face fell and realisation dawned in his eyes.

“No,” he said softly. “No, you didn’t.”

It was your turn to shrug. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t get a little bit of a kick out of Dean’s absolutely horrified expression. Endless shit that was about to rain down on you and all.

“You slept together? You,” he looked at you, “and you?” He looked at Cas.

“Yes,” the former angel said stiffly. “It was nicer than the couch.”

“No, I mean–”

You raised a hand, stopping him. “Yes, Dean,” you sighed. “Just… get it out now.”

“Aw, man.” He groaned, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “That was you guys?”

“I told you,” Sam shrugged, looking all too smug.

Cas frowned. “Told him what?”

“We could hear you,” Dean muttered, his cheeks going a deep red. “I didn’t think we were sharing a wall, Sam did. Drew me a diagram of the motel layout and everything. I didn’t wanna believe it, I didn’t wanna know that… Aw, man!”

Sam’s smile widened, and he extended a hand across the table. “Pay up.”

“Pay up?” You glared at him, incredulous. “What the fuck do you mean, pay up?”

“I mean he owes me fifty. Thanks for that, by the way.” With this, he nodded to Cas.

You gaped. “Please don’t tell me you bet on me and Cas sleeping together. And please don’t tell me you bet for it.”

“What can I say? I knew it’d happen eventually, the way you drool over each other. Not my fault Dean actually took me up on it.”

You groaned, twisting to bury your face in Cas’s trench coat. Absently, he patted your hair. “Why can’t you guys just be normal about one single thing?” you lamented. “Who the hell bets on their friends sleeping together?”

“Actually,” Dean said through a mouthful of bacon, “it’s a very normal thing to do.”

“Mhm, back at Stanford–”

“Back at Stanford,” you mimicked, cutting him off. “I can’t believe you two.”

Dean held his hands up as if surrendering. “Hey, sorry, but I didn’t think either of you would have the balls to ever make a move. And it was fifty dollars, don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t take that.”

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to sit in the car all day with you.”

“Me too,” Cas added solemnly.

You sighed, taking his hand under the table and laying it between you, squeezing in full view of Sam and Dean. Cas squeezed back.

“You’re not allowed to… do anything in the back of my car.” Dean said after a moment. “Especially not with me or Sam there too.”

Defiantly, you shifted closer to Cas, fingers still entwined with his, firmly meeting Dean’s eyes. “Don’t bet on it.”

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milswrites · 9 months ago

Text

Hobbies Part 3.

~Azriel X Reader

Summary: In an attempt to keep Azriel away from Elain, Rhys sends him on a sabbatical to the Day Court. With a lot more free time on his hands Azriel needs to find something to keep him occupied. Unfortunately he meets Y/N who has the annoying habit of not staying away. Can she teach him that there’s more to life than he thought?

Grumpy!Azriel X Sunshine!Reader

Series masterlist

Warnings: Tiny bit of angst and sadness. Light injury (nothing too bad)

“Why is it whenever you come to my door you’re always dressed so strangely?”

Azriel has had four blissfully peaceful days since the training session with Y/N . He knew she would turn up again at some point, having promised she’d come back and make him try something new.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly looking forward to spending time with Y/N again, he just assumed it was due to the fact that life in the Day Court for him was awfully dull. At least he now knew where the training grounds were and found most of his time was now spent there. Still just himself for company, he had now adopted his regular pre-sabbatical training routine and he had even been on a few late night flights, the need to stretch his wings too much to deny.

Azriel would also be lying if he said he wasn’t waiting on Y/N’s arrival at his flat once more. A shadow constantly waiting by his front door, even when he was out of his flat, to ensure that he would always know when she was waiting outside to meet him.

That’s what lead him to where he was now.

He had been outside, busy at the training ground and focussed on practicing a very difficult drill with his daggers, when the small wisp of one of his shadows came flying into the arena causing him to immediately stop what he was doing.

‘She’s here’ it told him ‘she’s waiting for you’.

At once Azriel sheathed his daggers and took off flying. Speeding towards the direction of his flat. Not wanting Y/N to know he had left a shadow at the door, purely with the intention of alerting him of her presence, Azriel squeezed himself through his open window. A window which definitely had not been built with the intention of a large Illyrian male squeezing through it but Azriel would rather suffer through the embarrassment of having to contort his body and drag himself through, rather than be faced with Y/N’s teasing grin at the fact he had been expecting her and rushed back to greet her.

After managing to crawl through his window, landing on the floor with a bang he prayed she didn’t hear, Azriel rushed to the door hoping Y/N was still there and hadn’t left having waited too long for a response.

Taking in a deep breath to try and return his breathing to normal, Azriel opened the door. He was met yet again with Y/N standing there, grin on your face, in another totally ridiculous outfit.

“What do you mean strange?” Y/N whined dramatically, hand placed over her heart as if his words hurt. Of course this wasn’t the case as the smile on her face had transformed into a smirk, clearly she was expecting him to say that, “Clearly you’ve never seen Day Court riding attire before.”

“Riding?! Like horses?!”

“No Azriel, riding like dragons, yes of course we’re riding horses!”

Azriel was now sure Rhysand had sent Y/N to torture him as punishment for what he did. He had never been on a horse and had absolutely no no intention of ever being on one. The small trace of excitement he had at the prospect of Y/N returning to his flat with a new hobby for him to try had completely left his mind. Azriel now in a mood and frankly he was slightly scared by the prospect of him on a horse.

“What a shame, I actually have plans for today” he shrugged mock-sympathetic look on his face as he attempted to pull his door to before Y/N could convince him otherwise. Something he was certain she would be able to do with little more than a smile.

“Hold on batboy,” Y/N chuckled, hand reaching out to grab the door before he could close it, “I did something you like, you’re going to do something I like. Deals the deal.”

“We didn’t make a deal” Azriel tried to reason, eyes focussed down the hallway of the flat so to avoid looking into her wide, begging ones that were no doubt staring at him.

“Yes we did”

“No we didn’t”

“Yes we- oh for mother’s sake Azriel! I thought you Illyrians were meant to be honest males!”

At this Azriel couldn’t help but release a barking laugh, “Sweetheart I don’t know what you think you know about Illyrians but that is most definitely wrong.”

“Oh well just…please Azriel,” as she said this Y/N softly moved one of her hands to rest on Azriel’s arm that was holding onto the door, “it would mean a lot to me.”

Azriel’s gaze flickered to where her hand rested on him, jaw clenching as his felt his control slip.

“Isn’t there something else you want to do?”

There wasn’t. Azriel had given in and now he found himself face to face with an overly skittish horse, clearly not a fan of his large wings. Y/N was already up on her horse, beaming down at Azriel as she waited patiently for him to mount.

Tentatively, he took a step towards the horse Y/N had selected for him to ride, pulling his wings in hoping that it would be less intimidating, the animal immediately shuffled backwards nervously.

“Y/N I don’t think this is a good idea” Azriel said turning towards the woman who was clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Giggling, she hopped off of her horse before walking over to Azriel and grabbing his hand. Not expecting this, Azriel flinched and yanked his hand away from her grip turning his head away from her, not wanting to see her disgust as she took in the mangled state of his hands.

“What are you doing?” He tried to snap at her but the words came out more unsure and shaky.

“Azriel”, Y/N spoke, drawing his eyes back to her kind face, “it’s ok, look.” With that Y/N took his hand again, her hold light as if giving him the chance to pull away again if he wanted to. Trusting her, Azriel exhaled and watched as she brought his scarred hand to his horses side moving it up and down in a gentle stroke, action calming the anxious mare.

Y/N’s hand lingered over his for a while, caught in the moment before she pulled away. Slow enough that Azriel was reassured it was not because of the marred skin of his hands. The back of his hand still tingling from where she had touched him.

“See?” She spoke softly, eyes slightly glazed. Azriel could have sworn he saw her shake her head a little, bringing herself back from wherever her mind had wandered to, before she took a step back away from his body, creating distance between them.

“Do you need help getting on?”

Neglecting a verbal response, Azriel shook his head, hand still pressed to the side of the horse where she had placed it. He knew the logistics over getting on a horse he had just never tried to before. Awkwardly, he placed his foot in the stirrup before pushing himself up and bringing his other leg over so he was sat on the horse. He made sure to lift his wings and spread them out a little to avoid them touching the horses back in fear their unfamiliar presence may cause him to get bucked off.

Azriel was sure of two things. One, he looked like an absolute idiot on this horse and if Cassian could see him now he would never let Azriel live it down. And two, Y/N was enjoying his struggle and obvious distaste for animals a little too much.

As they plodded along a dirt path outside of the city, Azriel kept a miserable eye on Y/N who wasn’t afraid to let out a loud cackle every time he showed any sign of stiffness or discomfort.

“Hanging in all right bat boy?” She grinned as Azriel released a groan, no one ever told him how much riding a horse hurt your backside.

“Is this supposed to be enjoyable? This can’t actually be your hobby” he mumbled, shifting on the back of his horse to try and find some semblance of comfort for his rear.

“It’s not,” Y/N replied, “never actually been on a horse before either, I had to beg Helion to let me borrow these from his stable.”

Her comment made Azriel pull on the reins tightly until his horse came to a stop, Y/N still moving on ahead, “What do you mean you’ve never been on a horse? The whole reason I’m here is because you said we were going to do something you like!”

“Hm no I don’t recall saying that” Y/N turned her head over her shoulder, flashing Azriel a cheeky grin before facing forward once more. He huffed and did his best to get his horse moving again, this taking a few attempts, riding along until he was side by side with Y/N.

“So why are we doing this instead of dress shopping or gossiping over some tea?”

Y/N gasped playfully, “Dear me Azriel, you can’t truly believe my hobbies would be something as mundane as shopping or talking. I never took you for a gossip though, that’s good to know”

“Well you seem to do too much of that” Huffed Azriel under his breath.

“Besides, consider this payback”

“Payback?”

“For training the other day, can’t think I’m going to let you flip me onto the floor and get away with it”

And with that Y/N pulled off into a gallop down the dirt track, flying away from Azriel, her laugh hanging in the air, his heart fluttering at the sound. Competitive spirit stirring, and a weird need to impress Y/N, Azriel urged his horse to move faster in an attempt to outrace Y/N who already had a very large head start.

This wasn’t Azriel’s smartest idea as it wasn’t long before he felt the reins slip from his grasp and the next thing he knew he was falling off the back of his horse with a startled yelp. His body and wings scraping against the ground as he made contact, rolling to a stop, horse running off into the distance.

Groaning, Azriel just laid there, hands on his face in exasperation. The sound of hooves coming closer forced him to sit up, watching a panicked Y/N canter towards him, his horse in tow. She hopped off her own, worry evident in her face, and ran to Azriel.

“Cauldron are you ok?!!” She dropped to her knees, grabbing his face in the palm of her hands and scanning him over for injuries. Azriel brushed her off of him, embarrassed at the events that had transpired.

“If this is your idea of payback it definitely worked, think I ended up a lot worse off than you did though”

Y/N broke out into laughter, a sound so sweet and inviting that Azriel couldn’t help but join along. The two of them sat on the ground, dirt on their clothes, laughing hysterically until tears filled their eyes and they couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Let’s do something a little less high risk next time yeah?” Azriel says when his breath returns to normal, his smile had gone, it left with the last laugh that had escaped his mouth, but his cheeks still sweetly stung from the memory of it all the same.

“You mean you still want to keep hanging out with me?” Y/N was joking, but Azriel could still see the trace of insecurity in her eyes that she had blown her shot, that Azriel wouldn’t want to see her anymore after forcing him along on this disastrous trip. He wanted to comfort her, take her hand and tell her that he wasn’t going anywhere. But it was Azriel’s rogue emotions that brought him to this court in the first place and he wasn’t going to allow them to mess anything else up. Azriel called back his shadows that were swirling around them both playfully, thriving off of the joy they were previously emitting.

Clearing his throat and moving to his feet he answered, “I haven’t completely dismissed that as an option, can’t say I’ve particularly enjoyed anything we’ve done.”

His words had hurt Y/N, Azriel could tell that much, he noticed how her smile had wavered, how her eyebrows knitted together and the spark he so admired in Y/N’s eyes had dimmed. Guilt crawled into Azriel’s chest but he knew it was probably for the best, he’d entertain her visits and activities but he couldn’t allow himself to grow any closer. He knew he wouldn’t be here forever, sure that any week now Rhysand would return calling him back to his duties at the night court and he would go, leaving Y/N behind.

So Azriel looked down at Y/N who was still sat on the floor before, hurt on her face and he turned back to his horse, grabbing the reins and climbing on, “come on, let’s head back.” Y/N nodded, wordlessly picking herself up from the floor, she brushed the dirt from her clothes and hopped onto her horse.

They rode in silence, Azriel wanting nothing more in this moment than for her to start one of her conversations that he once found so unbearably annoying. Even praying that she would start her melodic humming, a sign that he hadn’t hurt her feelings too much. But Y/N didn’t make a sound.

Sighing to himself over the fact that he had found himself caring so much about this woman he barely knew in the space of such a small time, Azriel broke the silence, wanting to reduce the rift he had so suddenly opened between them. “So what do you actually enjoy doing. If not torturing the male species”He lamely attempted a pathetic excuse for a joke, recalling when the atmosphere around them both was lighter and more playful, wishing for it to return.

Without looking at him, Y/N replied quietly, “I don’t get much free time. But when I do I like to bake or sow, I enjoy making dresses.”

In an attempt to make her smile Azriel spoke, “someone who meant a lot to me used to sow, she must have made hundreds of the most beautiful dresses I’ve ever seen. She made one our high lady wore once, it looked like she had sown together pure starlight.” He glanced to his side where Y/N was riding, a wistful smile creeping onto her lips as if she wished she could create something just as magical.

“I don’t think I’ve ever made anything quite like that”

“I’m sure you’re great. Maybe one day you’ll even make something for me?” It may have been a bit presumptuous of Azriel to say, but at the sight of her usual smile finally on her face he was glad he said it. And Azriel quite liked it, the idea of wearing something made by her.

“A dress?” She teased, the stiff atmosphere around them had blown away with the gentle breeze, a comfortable warmth taking its place.

“I would make a dress work if that’s what you made me. You’ve already put me through enough torture I’m sure I could endure a little bit more.”

Y/N snorted, hand flying to her mouth in an attempt to cover the sound but Azriel caught it and swore to himself he would do everything in his power to make sure he was never the reason for Y/N losing her smile again. As they continued along the path that led back to the city, dirt on their clothes and contentment on their faces. Azriel couldn’t wait for what she had planned next… as long as it didn’t actually involve him having to wear a dress.

Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: I don’t know much about horses so please don’t come for me if I’ve said something wrong <3

Taglist:

@thelov3lybookworm @minnieoo @going-through-shit @iluvyewman-blog @laughterafter @amysangel @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @darling006 @anuttellaa @serendipityx150 @xxxalicerogersxx @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @naturakaashi @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove

(I’m so sorry I couldn’t get some of them to work, and I’m even more sorry if it’s just my awful spelling)

#acotar #azriel x reader #fanfic #acotar imagine #azriel imagine #sarah j maas

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lixies-favorite-cookie · 3 months ago

Text

an ocean in a world full of puddles ◦ Chapter 1

-After being brushed off by Chan once again, you are stuck waiting in the lounge room for him to arrive. What are you going to do when it isn't Chan that arrives, but instead Felix? And it feels like you've known him for years."

words ◦ 5k

genre ◦ series, angst, fluff, the beginning of a wild ride

warnings ◦ chan is painted in sort of a negative light because he is always busy, felix is sort of shy around you at first, but lowkey flirty near the end as he starts to get more comfertable, theres a lot of fucks in this, i keep calling yall im dumb im sorry, fem!reader, felix calls her a lady once,

a/n ◦ The strikeouts are intentional to show how chaotic the reader's mind is and how she feels like her emotions are so invalid she has to just erase them away. I'm sorry if this isn't what you expected. I found myself struggling to describe certain aspects of this and was quite disappointed by the outcome (but please do not let this deter you. If anything, read it and let me know what you think/what I can change. Plus, I know the other parts are going to be way better than this).

also i listened to heather while writing this up until the phone number bit... then i listened to slow down by chase atlantic...do with that information as you will

A VERY VERY SPECAIL THANK YOU TO THESE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE that helped me through the different struggles and stages in this fic I thank most of my unnecessary errors being fixed because of them @yongbun, @jeonginsleftcheek, @luvtak

masterlist ◦ a loved lived in between the stars and the sea

The human condition: a soul filled with passion, but not a mouth to spill it into.

It was ironic really.

Your soul was filled with passion, but you had a mouth to spill it into.

That mouth just didn't want your passion-

Your fervor-

Your ardor-

Romance practically coursed through your veins, your blood cells shaped like the hearts you saw the world through.

Chan was filled with passion.

Chan was filled with ardor.

Chan was filled with romance.

But Chan didn't want poetry-

Chan spilled too much soul into songs.

Songs that made him too busy for you.

The two of you saw the same goal, but spoke different languages-

Your love was often-

Lost in translation.

You shout, frustration poking in the pit of your stomach painting the car red you dig the pencil into the words scratching them out so hard you cut holes in the page that sounded so stupid

all of this was so stupid

your feelings-

stupid

your issues-

stupid

the thought that Chan was anything other than perfect-

stupid

Why couldn't you just be content with everything you have? So many girls would pay to be in your place, tripping over each other just to be in his presence, and yet, what, you're unhappy because you spoke different languages?

What the hell does that even mean?

You were trapped inside an inescapable box, the sharp edges of your unrealistic expectations like shackles that cut into your skin, bleeding with a passion only ever found in fiction.

Why were you always stuck?

stuck in the stars, stuck in the sea-

stuck in this stupid line of stupid traffic, waiting for a stupid meal that Chan probably will be too busy to eat with you, writing some stupid piece of poetry that was about as poetic as the rotting innards of unidentified roadkill.

stupid

“Finally,” you mumble as the car in front of you inches up, allowing you access to the next window. You politely bow, grab the trays from the worker’s hand, and drive off.

Your life quickly turned from the hope of a story to the reality of a routine. The road, the walls, the button your finger grazes as the doors to the elevator slam shut, the number of steps it takes to get to his room, the feel of cold metal underneath your palm as you open the door, the same hunch of his shoulders, the same glow of his laptop, the same empty look in his eyes.

the same

Most of your relationship is spent looking at him like this.

"Hey channie," you say, setting the food down on the empty spot beside his keyboard.

"Hi, love." His voice is nothing more than the ghost of a mumble, blending with the click and shift of his mouse, moving different blurs and blobs of color on the screen. Chan tended to get tunnel vision when he was working, even if that meant you were left stranded in the shadows of his forgotten responsibilities.

"I um brought you dinner." you clear your throat, pointing lamely at the boxes beside him like he couldn't clearly see they were there. He perks up, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours.

"Oh baby, thank you." The tension in his shoulders melts. "I'm sorry, you know how busy I am sometimes; right now it feels like I'm drowning in work," he chuckles, absentmindedly shifting in his chair.

you're always busy

You push a smile through the tangled ball of suppressed emotions climbing up your throat.

"I know you're busy, but do you think I could eat dinner with you today...please?" Your stomach twists in painful knots. It was pathetic really, the way you begged for attention like a needy dog more than a doting girlfriend, but you were desperate, scrambling to fan a flickering flame that felt long sputtered out.

stop

You knew what you were getting into when he asked you out—the stress, the anxiety, the workload, the long hours. Chan was always upfront and honest about the struggles of being an idols girlfriend, never wanting to veil your eyes from the harsh sting of realities rays.

then why does it still feel like your soul is burning?

He flicks his gaze to the screen, guilt gnawing at his core. There was so much to do in the day and just never enough time to do it. "I don't know, I don't really have a lot of time right now..." He mumbles, picking at the seam on his shorts apologetically, "Do you think you could wait about 20 minutes? I'm kind of on a roll here."

When your relationship was first blooming, your spirit would often shatter with those words, but pain only holds power when it isn't welcome, and as long as you are loved by him, you will accept the feeling with open arms.

"I'm going to go sit in the lounge room then." You try to keep the disappointment out of your tone, but it leaks through the cracks echoing in your chest, radiating in palpable waves. You clench your jaw, picking up your tray of food.

does he not care?

"Okay," The squeak of his chair indifferently swiveling back to its previous place echoes in your ears. Louder than anything you've ever heard.

he didn't even kiss you

1 hour 45 minutes and 13 seconds

That's how long you have been waiting in the lounge room for Chan to walk in the door.

that is how long you've been wallowing in a sad pathetic heap staring at your uneating supper

1 hour 45 minutes and 15 seconds now

16 seconds

17 seconds

You spin around when you hear the door creak open, anticipation fluttering in your stomach, only to plummet when you see Felix standing in the entrance, too busy shoveling a fork full of noodles in his mouth to notice your presence.

Felix was a familiar face, mostly associated with sweet smiles and bouncing eyes; you have only ever talked to him on a handful of occasions, possessing the basic relationship of hellos in the hallways and smiles when you enter the same room, but besides the couple times where he offered you some of his freshly baked brownies or told you which room Chan was in, you haven't actually had a conversation with the boy.

You groan, dramatically deflating in your seat.

Of course, it wasn't chan

Felix yelps, his heart leaping in his chest, only to wrap around his bones, doing trapeze tricks inside his ribs when he lays eyes on you—why, out of all the days he could have seen you, it was on the one day he was least ready, and the way your whole body slumps like a deflated balloon, it becomes crystal clear you weren't exactly jumping up and down to see him either.

Does Cupid have a vendetta against him or something?

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know anybody was in here," he stutters awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair like he was trying to fix it without a mirror. Disappointment quickly brews into guilt watching the way his eyes shift, hurt drooping his shoulders down.

"No, I'm sorry, it's not like that; I just thought—" You falter. What the hell did you think? Sorry, but I thought you were my boyfriend who left me here all by myself, and like usual, my stupid, hopeful heart really believed this time was going to be different. "You were someone different." You sink into the couch, a dull ache spiderwebbing through the chasms in your chest.

"Let me guess." His eyes crinkle with sympathy. "Chan."

You glance down at your ribs—some silly part of you really believed your shirt had blossomed with the crimson stain of your sorrows.

"How could you guess?" you mutter sarcastically, picking at the skin of your nails. Why did it seem like everybody else got the memo that if you were to search the thesaurus, your name would be the first word under forgotten?

"Well, really, it was a toss-up between you being with him for the past 5 years and the fact that he has been glued to his computer for the past 5 hours," he grins. "Pick your poison."

Your gaze drifts back to the couch that sits idly in front of you, lonely in the middle of the room, out of place, without the implant of another person's body.

"W-Well," he starts, shifting his bowl in his hands. "Do you... I don't know, want some company...maybe."

He's so awkward, so unsure, like a baby deer wobbling on unfamiliar legs, struggling to stay upright. You tilt your head, your lips pulling up into an adoring grin; you never really noticed it before, but he was sort of shy. You had a terrible tendency to take your time observing people unintentionally, causing discomfort to the victims of your restless brain—assessing in silence.

His ears burn when your eyes gloss over with an opaque glaze. His heart drops only for those silly little butterflies that always appear when you are around to swarm their wings around the lump growing in his throat.

Well, that was a bust.

Why couldn't he just be normal around you?

"O-Or not, that's fine too. I-I get it; you're probably l-like waiting for Chan or whatever. I-I can go get him if you would like." He jerks his thumb behind him, forgetting he was holding something for a second, stumbling to catch it right before it falls. You snicker, biting your lips to contain your laughter. His eyes flutter shut, scrunching his nose in embarrassment.

He was cute

Why haven't you talked to him before?

"No, please sit down," you lazily gesture to the couch in front of you. "It's not like Chan's going to be coming down anytime soon."

He sighs, his whole body melting with relief, practically forming into the couch when he shuffles over, adjusting himself to comfortably sit with his legs wide and his head tilted down. He picks up his fork just before whispering, "I'm sorry that he kept you waiting," and stuffing his face. You smile, the sight all sorts of endearing. The amount of food stuffed into his cheeks puffs them out, forcing his mouth into a pout that's smeared with red sauce. For a moment, you almost forget that you're supposed to be groveling, but why would life want to let you live when instead it could remind you constantly how much it sucks?

"I'm used to it." You learn to live with the absence of air when your hope always causes you to suffocate.

"You shouldn't have to be," he murmurs, his hand politely veiling his mouth while he chews. He's staring at his food like his noodles were an impossible labyrinth he's forced to escape, completely oblivious to the cataclysmic sentence he just uttered. Your jaw drops, stomach fluttering with butterflies, butterflies that you could’ve sworn burned out a long time ago. When most of your time is spent in a constant state of apocalypse, you forget the side effects of a romanticism, felt before your soul was littered with the echos of war.

"Oh?"

"Are you not going to eat?" He questions, forehead creased with concern as he gestures to the food that was currently burning a hole in the table. You stare at him stupidly, mouth ever so slightly agape. Did he not notice that there were swarms of zombified insects burrowing their way into your belly, kaleidoscopes charred wings creating panic in your pounding heart?

(cookie interruptions: I was today years old when I found out that a kaleidoscope was the technical term for a swarm of butterflies)

Why was he making you feel so jittery?

"Oh," you blink, giving an imperceptible shake of the head—a weak attempt to gather your disoriented thoughts.

Honestly, you had forgotten it was there.

"I was waiting to eat with Chan..." You mutter through the tufts of wool still stuffed in your head, wrapping your fingers around the tray, but when you pull open its flappy lid, your lips pull into a sneer glaring at the congealed sauce and cold noodles. You weren't surprised that your food had spoiled over the 2 hours you had been waiting, but it didn't make the frustration that bubbled in your gut any less apparent either. "But clearly, that hope was shortlived," you scoff, chucking the useless tray back on the table.

Felix clears his throat, adjusting himself in his seat. He often found himself tiptoeing on the edge of insanity, always rewriting the words he wanted to say, terrified you had written a line in the sand the waves had washed away.

You were a star with a heart tied to the sea, where he would have more success breaking the bond of the moon than turning the tides of the ocean that suffocated your soul.

So for now, he will coast the cosmos alone, waiting for the day you will finally look his way.

"You can have some of mine... if you want," he whispers, shyly scooting his cup over to you. "It's salmon-flavored; it's really good."

"Are you sure?" you blink, utterly flummoxed.

"Yeah, of course!" You swore you could trace the stories of the sky in the gaps where his freckles glowed.

"Thank you; I promise I won't eat too much," you joke, pulling out your fork. "I don't mind it, really. I can always make more as long as you're eating I'm okay," he grins, sliding his hand out of the way to allow room for yours, grateful for his generosity; you bite back a smile, digging into the hot noodles; a spicy flavor pulled straight from the sea explodes on your tongue as soon as the food meets your lips.

You swear you just tasted heaven's gates.

"Holy shit, this is delicious," you moan, rolling your eyes back in your head.

"I'm glad you like it," he smirks. "It's my special recipe."

"So you do more than bake, huh?" you waggle your brows lightheartedly, though you were sort of impressed by his broad palette of skills.

"You know that I bake!?" He was still recovering from the shock that you even knew his name—the way he often dissolves into the wall when you enter the room.

"Of course, I know that you bake; I always have to eat at least half of the plate of brownies Chan brings home." You giggle, picking at the noodles, wanting more but feeling guilty for hogging the whole bowl.

"Oh, I'm full," he stretches, rubbing his stomach like a stuffed cartoon character.

"Are you lying?" Cynism was a side effect of being a creative romanticist—your artistic brain didn't limit itself to only forming one conclusion, while the stories that ended up on paper were solely portrayed as having happy endings—you knew this philosophy was neither sadistic nor realistic, for even if the fictional characters made up of the fluid of your mind betrayed each other, what would a human, evil in its rawest form, do to you?

well that was melodramatic

"You know you're a very skeptical person," he jests, pulling his lips ever so slightly up.

"I'm a hopeless romantic; there's a difference," you state, stuffing your face when you finish studying him down to the very twitch of his right calf muscle.

"Aren't hopeless romantics supposed to be happy-go-lucky all the time? Seeing the world through rose-colored glasses and stuff?"

"You know we are called hopeless for a reason," you snort, unrealistic standards were more of a curse than a blessing.

Scratch that, having unrealistic standards is just a curse

“Being a hopeless romantic is like being an ocean in a world full of puddles.” Your soul speaks like his fingertips have felt its walls a million times before “devastating.”

He stares at you gobsmacked, blinking like you just hit him over the head with a mallet. Your mind kicks into gear, anxious little butterflies flipping on the switch for damage control.

that must have sounded so self-centered

"I-I didn't mean, like, in a cocky way, I'm better than other people. I just meant it's impossible to pour my passion anywhere because everybody else doesn't have room to take it. If anything, I-Im the bad one in this scenario.” You stutter, sporadically shaking your hands, worried that the misconception is going to create a concrete opinion. He quickly waves you off, seeming anything but bothered.

“An ocean in a world full of puddles that's pretty deep,” he implores, treating the words like age-old wine to be sipped with both time and deference. “You know you should really consider being a poet 'cause that like moved my soul.” Only Lee Felix can make humor sound so honest.

Why was he so ...amazed

"I like to think I'm a poet." Your cheeks are painted red as you bashfully tilt your head down.

but right now not so much

“You can't think you're a poet,” he chuckles. “If you ever wanted to read somebody your stuff, I would be happy to help…Maybe it could fix your uncertainty." Something twinkles in his eyes, something nervous yet desperate, something you couldn't quite pinpoint while your stomach was sprinting in circles—the mere thought of showing somebody else your poetry was the equivalent of slicing your heart in half and presenting it to the world on live television.

basically, something that will never happen never ever

"No, no, no, it's nothing like that. I don't really write poetry per se; I just write my..." You trail off.

What do you write?

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he reassures, his warm smile cooling the icy anxiety that crystallized around your core.

Why do you do this to yourself??

Stupid Felix and his stupid power to loosen your lips-

stupid. stupid. stupid.

To be a poet is to be vulnerable; no great art is ever created comfortably.

Fuck it

“I write my dreams,” you blurt, peeking out through your clenched eyelids to see if Felix caught the spit of a sentence; clearly, he did the way he lifts his brows thoughtfully.

“Elaborate”

A man of many annoying questions you see

“Why,” you groan, sinking into your seat almost comically.

"Because I want to listen to you," he laughs like whiskey and wine, both husky and rich. You choke, your heart imploding into a million tiny, rose-shaped pieces.

"Nobody wants to listen to me ramble on about hopeless fantasies that will never come true," you sputter, still trying to reshape your rose-shaped shatters into something that resembles an organ.

"I do."

Oh well, there they go again, forming right back into roses-

He made all of this seem like a complex game of chess, every move of hesitance quickly countered by a block of honesty.

From the moment you could write, you found out that paper was not volatile the way people were, how you could erase a word written but, in time, in life, you cannot erase a sentence said—that philosophy stuck with you, forever rendering you apprehensive to vocalize your feelings.

Maybe it was your soft spot for the stars that made you speak, but either way, when your mouth opened, it felt as though all your past doubts had washed away, and for once, you were free.

"I have always held onto my dreams through the tip of a pen, existing in between the lines of my poetry. But I don't write about deep philosophical pearls of wisdom; I write about love, passion, beauty. I write about coffee and cream, roses and vanilla. I write what I think romance tastes like, how the contrast of the most iconic confessions has been written in the rain, a usually gloomy, grey thing completely transformed through the lenses of love…" You sigh, tilting your head against the back of the cushion in bliss.

"I write the way I want to love, for I know it's the only way to quell my heart's aching urge to live anywhere but reality."

He stares at you eerily still, blinking once, twice, three times."

Why wasn't he saying anything?

Perhaps you were drunk off Felix's promises, or the cracks Chan created in your chest made you bleed with a passion only ever reserved for your poetry. But either way, you felt naked—exposed under his exploring eyes.

"What?" You croak, picking at the sleeve of your shirt.

Why did everybody act like you were crazy?

Was there something wrong with you?

You are floating in the asteroid belt, a thousand tiny rocks hovering around your head.

"Maybe you're just not looking in the right places." There’s a deep intensity in his eyes, a million roaring waves crashing against each other; you run face-first into a meteor, bouncing around the surfaces of a weightless space.

How many brain-altering revelations could Felix bestow before your brain cracks?

"You know, I haven't even told my friends that," you deflect. It was a dangerous game, diving too deep into your thoughts, and right now, with him—with that statement, danger could quickly bleed into destruction.

"So, I'm not your friend?" Clearly, Felix catches on to the sudden swerve of the conversation, how he eases into it with such grace, jestingly poking your knee.

"This is the first time I've ever had a real conversation with you," you scoff, poking him right back. His jaw drops in faux offense.

"You know, I just gave you my food. I think that deserves an upgrade into friendship territory," he states matter-of-factly.

Two can play at that game-

"I don't have your number; usually friends have each other's number." You place your elbows on your knees. He has been playing a metaphorical game of chess with you this whole time, his pawns moving ever so slightly forward. He forced your hand, the comfortability in your eyes making openings on the board you never meant to create. His rook, his bishop, his queen—they kiss the place right below your king.

You had one more trick up your sleeve-

You were a creative romantic whose moves were nothing less than a story, and you were going to be damned if you let your king be captured.

Now, where's the happy ending in that?

(cookie interruptions… I dont know what this is nor why i am so dramatic but hey what can you do ALSO LISTEN TO SLOW DOWN BY CHASE ATLANTIC I BEGTH OF YOU )

He leans forward, pressing his tongue against his cheek. The fabric of his shirt stretches across the hard ridges of his abs—

No, stop it, bad y/n.

"Do you want it?" He leans his head ever. So. Slightly. Forward

"Maybe I do."

"Maybe I'll give it to you," soft, smooth voice-

you narrow your eyes,

"What will Chan think?"

"It doesn't matter what Chan thinks-"

"Tell that to Chan-"

"Maybe I will." His lips-

"You know, if Chan saw us here right now, he would not be very happy." You suck your teeth.

Check-

He scoffs. Moves his bishop.

You're right back where you started.

"You're not his pet."

"Yeah, but I am his girlfriend." Block.

"Those two words are not synonymous," he says. Moves his queen.

Too many openings, too many moves, too many pieces on the board.

Too many outcomes.

Do you even still want to play?

Weren't you the one who started the game?

You bite your cheek, his eyes burning like molten amber, glinting in the overhead lights.

Should you have really asked for his number?

What would Chan think if he saw it in your phone?

Who were you kidding? He would actually have enough time to look at your phone.

"You know," he leans back, extending his arms to drape across the couch, pushing his thighs ever so slightly apart. Gone is the man with smiles like sugar; determination wisps across his face like spits of fire, overtaking every feature."If I give you my number, I'm going to have to help you unlearn your engraved cynicism." He's closing in on you, moving all his pawns in one fair swoop. You're surrounded, swarmed.

"You can't ungrave something it's scientifically impossible." You shift your king. One last dying breath-

Before-

"I can try."

Checkmate

And like every person of honor does when they have nobly lost a battle they created-

You run away.

“I have to admit, as much as I loved this conversation, I really should be going,” you say, picking up your tray of forgotten food to chuck in the trash, leaving Felix's bowl on the table. He jumps up, scrambling to pick up his mess while you dart out the door, tossing the tray in the can just outside the room.

“Wait,” he gasps, stumbling to catch up with your speed. Your finger, out of habit, moves to press the button to the elevator doors—that is, before he catches it, his warm hand wraps around your wrist.

“Now, what gentleman would I be making a lady get her own door?” He bellows, voice deep and low, a sound echoing through his chest as the fabric of his shirt kisses your back. He’s so close, so close, so—

How long has it been since you've been touched?

Heat. You're drenched in it, painted in it, enveloped in it.

His hand grazes your skin as he slides up your wrist, his finger extending to press the button.

Your breath hitches.

Body shutters.

Every atom erupting in flames.

The elevator doors slam open-

Your brain clicks back into place-

“Will I be seeing you again?” Your hot, so hot. He’s hot, so hot. Breath—it tickles your ear. Disoriented, so disoriented.

“I still don't have your number,” you manage to utter, slipping into the doors. His face will be the final thing you see as you descend down the shaft, lifelessly walking to your car where you will go home, go to sleep, and start your routine all over again. He smirks, flicking his eyes to your pants.

“Yes, you do.”

I do?

The doors inch shut, and a small, teeny-tiny part of you wants to wrench them open, pull him in, force him into the stanzas of your story. You are tired—tired of waiting for your life to begin, tired of repeating the same vicious cycle.

But that wasn't you talking-

That was the hopeless part of your personality,

The unrealistic-

The fiction-

Life wasn't a game and reality wasn't a book.

You had a good thing going wth Chris and you were going to be damned to ruin it just because of one fun conversation.

You reach one finger into the back pocket, feeling around for what Felix could have been talking about.

There's no way.

Your skin brushes across a smooth surface—something that definitely wasn’t there before.

There's no fucking way.

You pull it out.

It's pink and folded and definitely written on. You unfold it.

XXX-XXX-XXXX. Just in case you ever need an editor or a friend.

Oh well, fuck the game. He just flipped over the whole damn chessboard.

Read Chapter 2 here

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curlycow01 · 5 months ago

Text

Only you: The Chase

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After escaping hydra, you and bucky move to Romania to live your lives in peace, but the universe has other plans

Warnings: None really

a/n: I didn't originally think of making a series, but I had a couple ideas so why not write them down? hope you enjoy my attempt at writing a sequel. thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged the first one. Special thanks to @wintrsoldrluvr and @lanabuckybarnes

Series Masterlist

Only you part 1:

Your breathing was ragged as you willed your legs to go faster in the dark. You were running into darkness, but you didn't care, as long as you got away from them.

Scorching red hands grabbed you from behind, their touch burning deep impressions in your skin as they yanked you back. The hands wrapped around your head to keep it still.

Your gaze landed on a familiar chair and your eyes widened with fear as Bucky was brought in, his shoulder length hair barely covering his eyes, which were so empty, completely devoid of any emotion.

They threw him in the chair and machines tortured him, his screams booming in your ears. You cried out for him, you wanted to move, to do anything to help him but the hands firmly gripped you, forcing you to watch as tears pooled in your eyes. The hands slowly suffocated you, breathing was getting harder-

You woke up with a start, gripping the mattress beneath you as you tried to steady your breathing. "Doll?" You shifted to see Bucky, sitting on a chair, with his elbow on the table.

''I'm okay" you replied in a low voice. "Another nightmare?" he asked quietly. You nodded. You both were getting nightmares since moving to Bucky's tiny apartment in Romania 2 years ago. Sleeping beside each other helped, but Bucky often stayed up at night, watching over you while you slept.

Bucky gets up and walks over to you. He lowers himself beside you and takes your hand, gently rubbing the inside of your wrist. You shift closer to him, needing his warmth. He pulls you to his chest, his light blue shirt matching the color of his eyes. You inhale his scent, which instantly calms you. Bucky senses this. "Better?" he murmurs softly. "Loads" you whisper, already feeling a bit drowsy.

"Take a nap" he suggests, his voice low and soothing. "I'll hold you" he tightens his grip slightly and you're encased in his arms as you slowly drift asleep.

You wake up a few hours later, with Bucky still holding you as he slept. You stayed in the same position, listening to his breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart. He stirred a few minutes, his arms around you loosening.

"Hey" you whisper "sleep well?" "No nightmares" he confirms, his voice raspy. "Same" you smile. Bucky leans back a bit, but his arms are still around you. "I was thinking" he starts. You hum to let him know that you were listening.

"I read somewhere that plums help in remembering things, makes memories last longer." He takes a pause before continuing "Maybe we could go and buy some?" "Sure" you answer "I've never had plums before" He kisses the top of your head "You and me both doll"

After escaping Hydra together, Bucky started remembering parts of his life from the 1940s. He wrote them down in a notebook so he could piece them together and wouldn't forget again. You both visited the Smithsonian, which had information about Bucky during the war. He also read about Steve, who was close to him in the past.

Unlike Bucky, you didn't remember anything about your past, Hydra brainwashed you too hard and broke your mind. You didn't even know your name. Bucky offered to help, but you declined, saying that it would just be a reminder of what Hydra took from you. Your life was with Bucky now, and you were more than happy with it.

A few hours later, you both went to the Street Market to buy some plums. Bucky wore a black cap and a jacket with a brown hoodie. He was wearing a red henley underneath. He always hid his metal arm in public, other than it drawing unwanted attention, he was a little insecure about it. You were the only one who got to see his metal arm, he was comfortable and trusted you with his life.

A sea of deep purple plums were before you. Bucky was beside you, already picking a few. You reached out and grabbed one, feeling the smooth exterior and handing it to Bucky's gloved hand.

"It has spots on it" he observed. "Oh" you frowned, picking another one and inspecting it before showing it to him. "perfect" he smiles. You paid for the plums and both of you stepped on the street. Bucky took a bite out of a plum.

"How is it?" you ask curiously as he finishes eating it. "It's good." he states hesitantly. "But you taste better" he says teasingly, his eyes having a glint of mischievousness as he pulls you closer to him. A blush creeps on your cheeks "Now I'm thinking you had an ulterior motive to buying plums" you mutter.

He suddenly stills beside you, and you gave his arm a slight squeeze. "Everything okay?" "That guy across the street" he whispers "I- I think he recognized us" Your heat skipped a beat. "Should we go and check?" you ask nervously. Bucky moves forward, you following closely behind him.

Before you both could cross the street and reach the guy's shop, the guy bolted from the back. Bucky reached first and glanced at the newspaper on the counter.

You took the newspaper in your hands. The headline in Romanian said: Bombing in Vienna kills 12, including the Ruler of Wakanda, King T'chaka. A suspect was observed at the scene. A blurry shot of Bucky was under it, his face barely visible.

"This isn't true." you say firmly as you slam the paper on the counter "You were here with me this whole time! In Romania!" "You weren't in Germany!" Bucky stayed silent as you defended him. "We should head back to the apartment" you say in a low voice. He gives you a small nod. You both rush back to the apartment, but just as you were about to enter, Bucky steps infront of you. "Somebody's inside" he whispers, his face darkening. "Stay behind me"

He goes inside, his footsteps completely silent. You follow behind and see someone standing near the fridge. Captain America. you realize, the dark blue helmet reminding you of the picture Bucky kept in his notebook.

He turns around and faces you and Bucky, who was still standing infront of you. "Do you know me?" Captain America asks. "You're Steve" Bucky answers, "I read about you in a museum" The Captain places Bucky's notebook on the table. "You're lying" his gaze falls on you. "Who's she?"

Bucky glances at you, his eyes softening before he turns to answer. "Hydra brainwashed her too, but we escaped from them" Steve waits for a moment before speaking "Was that you in Vienna?"

"He wasn't" you answer before Bucky could, and you step beside him. "He was with here with me the whole time." "We don't do that anymore" Bucky finishes. Steve seems convinced. "Well, the people who think that he bombed the Conference are coming here, and they don't plan on taking either of you alive."

Bucky takes off his glove covering his metal hand. "Good strategy" he states in an emotionless voice. "This doesn't have to end in a fight Buck" Steve says. You hear multiple sets of footsteps climbing the floor. "It always ends in a fight" Bucky replies. "You pulled me from the river" Steve says urgently "Why?" "I don't know" Bucky answers "Yes you do" Steve presses firmly.

A grenade is thrown through the window, but Bucky is quick to kick it to Steve, who covers it with his shield, absorbing the impact. Armed Special Forces Soldiers break in through the window with a loud crash. They don't get the chance to fire their weapons as you and Bucky swiftly disarm them and knock them out with a couple of well-placed punches.

"We have to get out of here" Bucky murmurs to you, his breathing slightly heavy. You nod and cross the room and punch through the wooden floor to grab a bag with supplies and few notebooks containing Bucky's writings about his past.

"Let's go" you say, handing him the bag. He straps it to his chest. The door breaks down and more soldiers enter, but you and Bucky leap out the back door and land on the roof of another building. You both start sprinting away from your apartment building.

"SO MUCH FOR LIVING IN PEACE!" you yell while running. Bucky suddenly stumbles forward, causing you to stop running. "What the-" In front of you stood a man covered head to toe in a black suit, his helmet resembling a cat. He lunges forward at Bucky, but you tackle him away, causing you both to fall through the entrance of the tunnel-road.

You fall on your stomach onto the hard concrete, you aren't hurt badly, thanks to the serum. A pair of familiar hands grab you by your waist and help you up. "You okay?" asks Bucky. You nod. "They're still after us". Wasting no time, you both sprinted through the tunnel as cars sped by. A motorcycle was heading your way, threating to collide, but in one swift motion, Bucky grabs it, causing its rider to fall off and replacing himself as its driver. You quickly sat behind Bucky, wrapping your arms around him for support.

The engine roared as you both sped through the dim tunnel. "You know, this isn't how I imagined taking you on a drive" Bucky says with a hint of amusement in his voice as he takes a turn. "We're literally getting chased by a man in a cat suit and this is what you've got to say?"

Your eyes widen as you glance at the rear-view mirror to see the man in the black suit jumping from car to car like a panther, and leaps to your motorcycle, just barely managing to slash the back tire with his claws, sending you and Bucky tumbling to the ground.

The man hovers over Bucky, about to strike, but Captain America jumps forward and throws him back. You and Bucky get up as SUVs pull up and German Police surround you four, pointing guns at your heads.

Captain America stands beside you and Bucky protectively as Iron Patriot flies down, aiming a machine gun at Bucky. "Stand down" he commands "Now" He turns to Steve "Congratulations Cap. You're a criminal"

One of the cops pushes Bucky to the ground to cuff him, and you try to stop him but realize fighting isn't the play here. More chances of getting hurt and therefore reducing the likelihood of escaping. Bucky knows this. 2 cops cuff your hands behind your back and pin you to the ground alongside Bucky.

You shift your head slightly to look at him, your cheek against the cool cement as you gazed into Bucky's eyes. "I made you a promise doll" he whispers so only you could hear. "I'll get us out of here" his eyes burning with fury.

"And I'll tear apart any person who'll try to take you away from me"

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #winter soldier fanfic #captain america #steve rogers

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i-yap · 5 months ago

Note

Classic ask but Batboys reaction to gn s/o wearing their clothes 🤞

Yessss i love that one ive read so many but I'm gonna change it a little bit and talk a bit more about the type of clothes they prefer and what they usually wear themselves. Just a headcanon about clothes.

Its gonna be a series cuz its kind of long .

Also i may suck at writing gn I'm sorry if I offend anyone or write something stupid. Im a cis fem she /her who grew up in a very close minded family so I'm really sorry just let me know if I write anything stupid and ill edit it okay?

WARNING - there is mention of bodies like some specification on what the readers body may look like. and a little about sex

Batboys reaction to gn s/o wearing their clothes - Dick grayson edition

dick grayson

dick wears a tank top and shorts at home which make his ass look hot(it always does).

He really likes it when you wear his boxer shorts or pajama pants or sweatpants which is tied to the hips and a simple cloth bra(if you wear one or shirtless if you don't) ( they're a little different from sports bra super light and so comfortable). but he loves just seeing you in any underwear and not just for sexual reasons.

it just makes him feel warm inside thinking how comfortable you feel around him and how your not insecure about your skin showing around him. for example If you had an insecurity about your stomach but can walk around in just shorts and shirtless/bra with him, it makes him feel like he has won against those stupid negative thoughts you have .

there is a very thin layer between you guys while cuddling And dick is really really warm so this way there is not too much overheating since direct skin to skin makes it uncomftably warm. I mean if you get cold easily you are welcome to take those off. Plus don't pretend that you wont slide your hands under that tank top to feel his abs.

When walking outside , Rather than taking off his entire coat to give you, he pulls you inside his coat so that you're sharing it or giving you the coat and then pulling you into his side and since your body is therefore pressed against his, more warmth. . he also will take off his scarf and gloves and basically wrap you up in it .

If you complain and say " you'll get cold tho" he'll laugh it off and say something cheesy like " you keep my heart warm..plus babe you know just how hot I am"

He loves wrapping you up in clothes in the gotham winter. " dickie your gloves are too big for me, I don't need glovess" , "bigger gloves mean more warmth, and you'll need them in just a minute"

you did need those gloves btw.

Also he likes wearing a little something of yours. Like if you wear multiple rings , he will buy you a much more meaningful and better quality one and then you're like " ugh I feel pressured to get you something you're too nice to mee" he just takes one of those rings that you got from a roadstand when you had change to spare and be like "we're equal now"

He will wear that ring everywhere , like will not leave without it.

also gets you a nightwing logo small pendant made out of the strongest material ( so u arent scared of breaking it) or some neckpiece he has been wearing forever ( he has in some comics) and it'll be long enough to easily hide (between your breasts/pecs/chest making it a fun sex thing )And wants you to wear it forever and never take it off.

He also likes it if you wear his shirts. Like dick wears these nice classic shirts which are well fitted ( a little tight too cuz its dick) and nice beige pants. So if you can wear his shirts without them being super tight( its hot when its a little tight around the chest/boobs/pecs ) or super drowny when you go to work , he loves it.

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dandelions-143 · 4 months ago

Text

Trouble

Part of the Bar Boy Series

Pics credited to @seungminindabuilding THANK YOU SO MUCH🩷

Seungmin Masterlist

Other members: MASTERLIST

Pairing:virgin, non idol, Seungmin x Wild, Party Girl, fem!reader.

Wk: 2851k

Warnings: nothing too crazy in this one, drug use, mention of alcohol, public oral(it’s in a convertible), m-receiving 18+ ONLY

A/n: this one’s a bit more light hearted than the others. A crossover once again. This is the same party from the party mentioned in Chans fic ( Do It For Me) & Hyunjins fic ( Secrets ). If you haven’t checked those out please do so!! Also y/n in this fic is different from all the other y/n’s, obviously. Smut under the cut-enjoy🫣

You sat at the edge of the pool, your bare feet dangling in the cool, clear water. Blowing smoke rings above your head just to reach up and poke through them with your finger. Chans party was dwindling down after hours of loud music and drinking most people were either passed out or had left.

Your heavy lidded eyes watched as a few people still swam around in the pool. The weed you had been smoking mixed with the alcohol you had consumed from earlier had you feeling very calm and care free. It felt good. As you blew out another smoke ring your eyes happened to meet a set of round innocent looking eyes across the pool.

Your vision was a little blurry but you could tell those eyes were the sweetest you had seen in a long time. Those eyes belonged to a man who was sitting on one of the chairs, a drink in hand surrounded by a few other guys and girls. You licked your lips and leaned forward a bit, keeping your eyes on his. The man’s puppy eyes momentarily dipped down to follow the path of your tongue then returned to staring at your eyes.

You don’t know if it was the drugs, alcohol, or both but you lifted your free hand slowly motioning him to come over. The dark haired man looked a little surprised. He glanced around to make sure he was the one you were wanting. You smiled lazily and leaned back on one hand bringing the half smoked blunt up to your lips.

The man stood, dressed in light wash jeans, light blue cardigan over a white tshirt. His hair pushed back from his face. He was very handsome in the most boyish way. You wanted to get your claws in him.. maybe corrupt him a little. The moment he sat down beside you instead of talking, you simply offered him your blunt.

His deep eyes watched you for a beat, seemingly taking in your soft features before taking the blunt from you, his warm fingers brushed against yours briefly. You instantly liked that he didn’t come over trying to flirt or talking stupid to you. “What’s your name, puppy?” You finally spoke up. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat after he blew the smoke out.

He turned his head looking at you curiously, “Apparently it’s puppy.” He held out the blunt for you to take back and you did. “You look like a puppy to me. I like your face.” You giggled softly and took another hit of the blunt. “It’s Seungmin, what’s yours?” You heard him ask but you didn’t answer. Instead you leaned closer to him with the smoke still in your lungs. The burn was the best feeling to you.

His eyes widened a bit, unsure of what you were doing but he quickly understood and leaned closer as well. Seungmin parted his lips as you very slowly blew out the smoke for him to inhale, your lips mere centimeters from his. You couldn’t help but giggle at his innocent expression once you pulled away. “You’re new here, huh?” You asked, your eyes meeting his deep stare that oddly made you a little nervous. People usually didn’t look at you like that.. like they could see right through your nonchalant facade.

You cleared your throat and looked away, waiting for his response. Seungmins cheeks turned a little red and he looked down, a little embarrassed it was that obvious. “Yeah, I mean I’m friends with Chan and the rest of the guys.” At the mention of him being friends with Chan you raised a brow at him. What is a seemingly sweet guy like him doing with them.. from first glance he didn’t seem to fit in with them exactly. “So you’re a bad boy.” You spoke your thoughts more to yourself than to him. Seungmin looked as if he was about to deny it when you suddenly stood up and held out your hand for him to take.

Seungmin took your hand, his skin was hot and smooth against your palm. His long fingers seemed to engulf your petite hand. “Where are we going?” He asked with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. You laced your fingers through his, “We are going to see just how bad you can be.” You could see him visibly swallow. He was nervous and you loved it. Discarding the almost completely smoked joint you pulled your new boy toy inside the large mansion.

You could hear Seungmin asking you what exactly you two were going to do as you pulled him up the stairs eventually coming to chans room. “Ew..he is such a pig.” You said under your breath as you took in the messy bed and clothes laying all over the floor. “What the fuck are we doing in here?” Seungmin sounded annoyed, his hand raking through his short black hair.

“I already told you.” You smirked, rummaging through Chans desk drawers until you finally found what you were looking for. You held up a set of car keys, “Ever stolen a car before?” You giggled at Seungmins wide eyed expression. He was frozen in place as you tried to tug him out the door. “Come on, we will bring it right back.” You happily bounced up to him, placing your hands on his hips to steady yourself as you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a very quick and innocent little kiss to Seungmins plump rosie lips.

That seemed to get him moving because he aimlessly let you pull him back down the stairs and out into the large garage that housed Chans cars along with his fathers. “Are these all Chans?” Seungmin asked upon seeing the four cars and one motorcycle parked there. His eyes took in the deep red of the street bike. “I knew Chan was loaded but the guy has a Ducati motorcycle?”

You rolled your eyes, “Stop drooling.. his favorite is right here.” You walked up to a sleek black convertible. Your eyes went right to Suengmin as he stepped up to admire the car. “A Bentley Bacalar… this.. this is a 2 million dollar car.” He walked around the car to take it all in. You could tell he was enthralled with the expensive car. “There’s only 12 of these ever made with an open top.” You smiled devilishly and stepped up to him dangling the keys in front of his face. “And you’re going to drive it.”

Seungmins eyes went from the car to you then back to the car. You could tell he was weighing his options. You could also tell the temptation was going to win out. It took all of a few seconds for Seungmin to make up his mind and you two were in the car driving down Chans long driveway.

Seungmin surprised you but speeding up significantly as soon as you two got on the main road. The cool night wind already had your hair whipping about. Seungmin noticed your cheeks were getting rosy from the wind and he reached over placing a very warm palm on skin.

You smiled and raised your hands in the air, “Faster, Seungmin!” You yelled and he did exactly as you said. The engine revved even louder as his led foot grew even heavier on the gas petal. You had no clue how fast you two were going but you felt like you could fly in that very moment.

Without warning you slowly stood up, placing your still bare feet in the leather seat. Your butt was leaning against the headrest for some stability as you raised your hands up once again. At first Seungmin was laughing loudly, enjoying the freedom he was experiencing and the thrill you gave him.

You closed your eyes and the feeling terrified you but, you had never felt better. It felt good to feel this alive. To feel as if you were flying. Most of your life you had always felt restless; always searching for that next high.. that next good feeling. Your skin wasn’t crawling and your bones felt calm for once in your entire life.

Seungmin began to get a little worried as the road became curvier. You could hear him call for you, “Hey, Sit down now, okay!” Of course you didn’t respond. Nothing was going to interrupt this euphoric feeling you had in that moment.

You could feel the car slowing down some and it smoothly take a few simple curves. Seungmin could see a deep curve up ahead and he yelled for you again but, to no avail. You just would not listen to him. Just as the car took the curve and your body began to lean more and more towards the open road Seungmin grabbed onto your arm and yanked you back down into the seat.

The crazy thing was… you weren’t even startled. You began to giggle.. the adrenaline still pumping through your veins but, your smile began to fade once you saw his face. Seungmin looked pissed. His jaw was set in a hard line, his lips pinched together a little and his eyes glancing from the road to you were narrowed and glaring. “Are you fucking insane! You could have fallen out!” He yelled at you and then kept his eyes on the road in front of him.

The sight of him being so angry and how his boyish looks changed to something else entirely… mixed with the adrenaline in your body… you decided to do something.

You got up on your knees and leaned over the console. Your lips pressed a soft kiss to his jaw just below his ear. “Let me show you just how insane I am.” Seungmin didn’t push you away or move away from you. He only scoffed a little, thinking you were only bluffing.

He realized just how serious you were when you began to kiss along his jawline as one of your hands slid down his torso to rub him through his jeans.

Seungmins breathing began to come out short and quick. You kept kissing down his neck, running your tongue over his smooth skin. “W-what are you doing?” The last word out of his mouth came out very breathy.

“Just keep your eyes on the road.” You mumbled against his now very hot skin. His cheeks were growing redder by the second. You found his undeniable innocences very adorable. All of Seungmins precious anger and tension melted away from his body as you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.

“Shouldn’t we do this in a more private place?” Seungmin asked, his voice was a bit shaky but the words came out rushed as if he was anxious. You only giggled and pulled out his hard cock. It was pretty just like the rest of him.. in that moment you wanted to see what he looked like completely naked.

Did he have any freckles? And scars? Or was his body perfect like the his face.. the thoughts ran through your head as you continued to touch him.

“Don’t worry, puppy. Just focus on the road and let me do the rest.” You reassured him. You could feel Seungmins muscles physically relax the moment you parted your lips and slid his cock inside your mouth.

You slid him deep, almost to the back of your throat and held him there for a second before pulling him out. You repeated this motion very slowly, taking your time to slide your tongue over the smooth skin that stretched over his veiny member.

The sounds coming from Seungmins now parted lips turned you on immensely. His moans were soft at first, barely audible but, as you sped up your movements and sucked a bit harder his grunts and moans became louder.

Seungmin kept his eyes on the road as best he could but, he kept glancing down wanting to see you take him in your pretty mouth. “Fuck, baby that feels so good..” he would moan and buck his hips up a little. “Use your teeth l, just a bit..” he said and you obliged. Taking him deep, sliding him down your throat as far as you could, causing you to gag around him. Seungmin let go of the wheel with one hand and tangled his fingers in your hair.

“Oh my god..what’s your name? I- I don’t know your name.” he whimpered, pressing your head down a longer when you tried to come up for air. When he removed his hand you drug your teeth very lightly up his swollen cock. A string of your spit connecting your lips to the tip of him. “It’s Y/n.” You said softly. “Beautiful.” He mumbled back to you, caressing your cheek softly.

You took the opportunity to finally look at Seungmin and he was a visible mess but, in the best way. His eyes were heavy with need, he must have been running his hand through his hair at one point because it was now a mess. Seungmins chest heaved up and down as if he had been running a marathon.

“Please.. y/n don’t stop.. your mouth feels so good.” Seungmin was desperate for you to put him back in your wet mouth. You thought it was so hot the way he wasn’t afraid to beg for it.. the noises he was making… needless to say your panties were soaked for him.

You leaned back down sucking harder than before, moving your head up and down in a fast paced rhythm. You could tell he was close because of the grip he had on your hair and the way his thigh muscles tensed so hard they trembled just a little. His cock felt rock hard on your tongue and as you pushed your self down on him until he was back in your throat again you felt him twitch. Soon a thick salty coating enveloped your mouth. You swallowed his cum and gave him one last slow suck, pulling away with a very audible “POP” as you fully sat up.

Seungmin was doing his best to keep his concentration on the road still, but his body was spent. He leaned back in the car seat, his head laid back on the head rest. He reached over after you had zipped him back up into his jeans, gently grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulled you in for a kiss.

The car was slowing to a stop and it took everything in you to pull back from the intoxicating taste of his smooth tongue. “We better get Chans car back to him or he’s going to kill us both.” You kissed him one last time before sitting back down in your seat.

“You nearly sucked my soul out..” Seungmin mumbled as he made a U-turn in the middle of the empty street. That made you laugh and laugh hard. You giggled until tears were daring to spill from your eyes. Seungmin kept glancing at you, taking in your laughter and that made him smile in amusement at you.

“I think you’re exaggerating.” You said to him as your laughter died down and you two were pulling into Chans garage. Seungmin turned the car off after putting in park and turned to you. “Well.. I, um..” he swallowed a small lump in his throat. “I’ve never had anyone.. yah know.. do that to me before.”

You didn’t mean to stare at him the way that you did. This gorgeous man had just confessed to you that he had never received head before. The silence seemed to stretch on for a bit too long until… “Seungmin, are you a virgin?” The question spilled from your mouth before you could really think about it. “I-“ he was about to answer but he was cut off by Chan’s loud voice.

“Yah! What the fuck, Y/n!” Seungmin nearly jumped out of his skin when Chan’s voice boomed throughout the garage. You rolled your eyes and followed Seungmin out of the car. “Calm down, your precious baby was in good hands. Right, Puppy?” You reached over and ruffled his already messy hair. Seungmin didn’t say a word he just stared at Chan with wide eyes.

Chan walked up to you and held out his hand for the key. You took the key from Seungmins loose grip, pecked him on the lips softly and whispered, “I’ll get your number from Chan and text you later. We have to finish what we started.”

Once you had handed Chan his key with a very sarcastic grin plastered on your face he said in the angriest tone Seungmin had ever heard, “Get the fuck to your room!”

You only rolled your eyes, gave him a solute with your middle finger and said, “sure thing, brother dear.”

As you made your way back into the house you could hear Seungmin say “BROTHER?!” Once your words clicked in his head.

You were going to have fun with this one.. you just knew it.

Tag list open : @cashtonsbetch @moonndustx @hearts-444lix @katsukis1wife @hyunjinhoexxx @ihrtlino @breezy-simp @vixensss @yaorzu-blog @tirena1 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor

So sorry this took so long to post!! I’m having writers block!! BUT hoping to update Hyunjins fic soon

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