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pleasantanathema · 4 years

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Santa Daddy | Jean Kirstein x Reader

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Daddy kink, dirty talk, thigh riding, mutual pining, friends to lovers (or, rather, idiots to lovers), lots of holiday fluff

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is my Secret Santa gift to @whats-her-quirk 🎄💕 June, thank you so much for being a wonderful friend; I was truly lucky and privileged to get you as my Elf for Secret Santa! I hope this fluffy (and dirty) little fic with our best boi Jean brings you some holiday cheer!

There were only a few things in the world that made you happier than watching Jean Kirstein smile. Like most of your friends, you’d met him through work, but there was always something so special, almost magical, about seeing his darling smile and hearing his boisterous laugh. And you rarely passed up on a chance to see delight spread across his handsome face, which is why you couldn’t say no when he asked you to join him on a get-a-away with your friends for the holidays.

The inquiry came after you mentioned how you wouldn’t be able to make it home for the holidays due to a winter storm blowing in. It would be the second season in a row that the weather kept you from visiting home.

You could still hear his voice in your head, “alone? For Christmas?”

He’d then insisted you join him and his friends at Sasha’s family cabin. It was tradition for them, a gathering of misfits finding communion together out in the wilderness for a few days before the new year. You had taken trips with your friends before to amusement parks, festivals, even to the beach at Armin’s request, but something about being invited to an intimate setting to celebrate holiday traditions had you anxious.

So, there you were, swaddled in blankets, listening to Eren bicker with Mikasa while Sasha and Connie bustled in the kitchen to make eggnog and treats. Armin had declined to join, citing that he’d seen too many horror movies about young adults alone in cabins to feel comfortable making the trip.

And, true to form, Jean was running late. He was always late, his mind constantly moving a mile a minute unless he consigned himself to much needed rest and relaxation. Though, this time, you felt a little lonely while waiting for him on the couch, like there was a small part of you missing as you watched the snow fall outside.

“So, none of you guys go home for the holidays?” You looked over toward the modest, plastic tree that Sasha had thrown down from her attic to bring a little holiday cheer to the living room, a few poorly wrapped presents and bags nestled under the branches.

“Well,” Eren cleared his throat, “we are orphans.” He pulled at Mikasa’s scarf for emphasis.

“Oh fuck, yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t worry about, he just always brings it up to get sympathy gifts.” Mikasa sighed, jerking the red cloth from his hands and scowling. Eren only laughed, brushing a stray hair from his face that had come loose from the bun at his nape.

You sunk a little deeper into the cushions, eyes glancing out the window in hopes you’d see headlights flash in the driveway.

“Do you think Jean’s okay? He should’ve been here a while ago and the storm is getting closer.”

“Jean, Jean, Jean,” Sasha trotted into the room, balancing a mountain of sweet-smelling cookies on a plate, “you’re always worried about him.”

“Someone should be, guy’s an idiot.” Eren chimed in, green eyes shining from the low flames rolling in the fireplace. He and Mikasa were sitting in the floor, a game of checkers spread out before them, with more stolen pieces resting near the cunning Ackerman’s side of the board.

Eren wasn’t wrong, but over the years you’d known your group of friends, you’d noticed just how much the man in question had grown. In his early twenties, Jean had been quite the bumbling fool, having literally met you by bumping into your shoulder while leaving work, only to look at you and mumble “god you’re beautiful,” before issuing a quick apology as he rubbed at his neck sheepishly. You’d never mentioned the moment again, though your stomach still churned with a slight thrill every time you thought about it.

But over the years he’d managed to turn that puerility into something much more charming. He was more refined, almost infuriatingly suave, easily gaining attention from anyone and everyone. And though you sometimes hated to admit it, he’d captured your thoughts as well.

You kept your budding crush on Jean Kirstein close to your chest, not admitting it to any of your close friends. You always figured he was out of your league, seeing that he had a new, more beautiful girlfriend just about every other month. But, despite your simmering feelings, you still allowed yourself to get closer and closer to him over the years—some might say he’s your best friend, but you might call him your most treasured vexation.

Another hour or so went by, your time spent nibbling at cookies and reminiscing with everyone about another year passed.

Then the door finally opened, cold air gusting into the small living room as Jean stomped his damp boots on the entry mat.

“Have you guys opened presents yet?”

You glanced over the back of the couch, heart tugging in your chest as you noticed snow dusted in his long hair and a sizeable red and white polka dot package in his hands.

“No because Christmas is tomorrow, or did you forget that too?” Connie said it with crumbs in his mouth, feet kicked up on the coffee table.

Jean laughed, running a hand through his hair before wrapping the gift in his arms like it was something valuable.

“I know, I know, and sorry I’m late, had something important to go get.” He smiled, bright and cheery, hazel eyes bouncing between his friends and the carefully guarded box, “I ask because…uh, this needs to be opened kind of soon.”

“Is it perishable?” Sasha perked up, already ready to go make room in the fridge if something delectable was waiting as a gift.

“I mean…you could say that? It may or may not be alive.” He was laughing, that kind of infectious laughter that had everyone in the room grinning whether they wanted to or not.

Jean didn’t set the present down to even take off his shoes, instead tracking snow in with him and plopping onto the couch with flurries still on shoulders. He nudged your knee with his, pushing the present toward you. You pressed your lips together, hands getting sweaty as you pieced the puzzle together.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah,” his grin was pulling at his cheeks, eyes so sincere and happy and it almost startled you, “it’s for you.”

The top of the box moved, the green bow popping on top of the polka dots.

You moved the gift into your lap, pulling off the top to find perky ears and green eyes peering up at you—a kitten, grey and striped, with long, white whiskers and a pink bow around its neck greeted you with muted curiosity. You just stared at it for a moment, and it stared back, like you were both wondering just how it got into your lap.

“I just,” Jean was getting nervous, carding his fingers through his hair again as he waited for your reaction, “I wanted to make sure you’d never spend another holiday alone, you know?”

You carefully picked up the little cat, watching how it stretched and yawned as you pulled it from the carefully lain blanket inside its temporary home.

You smiled, pulling the warm little bundle to your chest.

“Um, Jean, this cat has six toes on her paws,” you said, pressing your thumb gently against one of the extra appendages in question.

“Six toes?!” Sasha was jumping up from her seat, bounding over to kneel in front of you and pluck one of the kitten’s paws into her fingers. The cat quickly pulled its paw back, little black toe beans curling to its chest.

“Yeah, it’s what drew me to her. She’s extra special…” you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter something under his breath, a little musing of “just like you,” but any hushed murmur was overshadowed by the ohs and ahs of your friends gathering around to look at the adorable little creature.

The kitten had been lulled to sleep by the car ride from the shelter to the cabin, content to just curl up in your arms as inquisitive fingers prodded at her little kitten mittens and the silky, white tufts in her ears. Even Mikasa was enraptured by the tiny animal, taking the time to retie the little pink ribbon around her neck to make a bigger, prettier bow.

You noticed how your friends were whispering, cheeky grins pressed against eager ears as they looked between you, the precious kitten, and Jean on the couch. You were starting to feel like you were missing something, or maybe that you were at the end of a joke you hadn’t caught on to yet.

“Thank you,” you whispered to Jean after the fuss died down, everyone returning to their seats and back to their previous fixations.

You’d mentioned perhaps wanting a cat a few weeks ago; it was just a silly, off-hand comment you made over coffee about how you’d once read that people with cats live longer because they pick up on the nine-lives of their feline partner. You didn’t believe it to be true, but you’d mused about the idea of having a cute kitten of your own to snuggle up with on lonely nights.

“I know it’s sudden and a lot of responsibility, so if you don’t want her—”

“No,” you cut Jean off, bundling the kitten a little closer in your arms, your heart singing as you felt her start to purr, “no, I want her, she’s perfect.”

Jean finally started to get settled himself, standing up and shrugging off his jacket. He was in a tight turtleneck, coal black threads stretched to their limit across his broad chest and shoulders, hugging his trim waist. You were careful not to stare for too long as he stretched his arms above his head to shake off the weariness of his drive through the snow.

He always looked like he stepped out of a fashion catalogue, fresh and so put together that sometimes you were tempted to snap his photo when he wasn’t looking; he just looked that good all the time. He loved to wear designer clothes and keep up with the latest menswear trends, and tonight was no different, that beautiful black turtleneck (that was covered in grey fur) undoubtedly belonging to a designer whose name you probably couldn’t pronounce.

“What are you gonna name her?”

He sat a little closer this time on the couch, a brawny arm outstretched behind you as he leaned over to scratch at the kitten’s chin.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, gazing down at the serene, sleepy face in your arms, “I’ll have to get to know her first.”

“Well, I’ve been calling her Frankie.”

“Frankie?” You smiled through your confusion, the name sounding oddly right.

“She was pretty wild in the car and kept meowing when Frank Sinatra was on the radio.”

“I see,” you laid the kitten down into your lap, sweeping your fingers through her fur and watching as she curled up into a tighter little circle, “well, I’ll consider it.”

You felt warm, heavy fingers brush against the back of your neck, Jean absentmindedly painting figure eights into your prickling skin. Heat flushed to your face as you realized just how close your bodies had become—his thigh was pressed against your own, dark jeans tight and hot, the scruff of his cheeks brushing against your own as he toyed with the sleeping cat’s tail.

There were voices all around you, the muffled sounds of your friends relaxing together falling almost on deaf ears. Your whole world felt like it just revolved around this couch, like nothing else mattered beyond the simple touches to your skin and the drowsy kitten beneath your hands. He never wanted you to spend another holiday alone, you replayed his words, the sweet sentiment finally settling into your spirit.

_______________

You could tell everyone was starting to get a bit sleepy, a few hours spent drinking spiked eggnog and chasing the new kitten around with a feather toy having left you especially exhausted. Your head was a little swimmy as you bid everyone goodnight, the grey tabby cat following closely on your heels to your bedroom where Jean had already brought in a litter box and a bed for her to sleep in. Jean, underneath all the designer bravado and smiles, was perhaps the most thoughtful person you knew.

But despite the heaviness in your head, you couldn’t seem to sleep. You tossed and turned in the bed, occasionally picking up your phone to scroll through it or just watch the time tick by. You had a lot of thoughts mulling around in your mind, most of them revolving around the man sleeping just right across the hall.

Never in a million years did you expect Jean to walk in with a beautiful, perfect kitten as a gift. The little thing was back to sleeping again, this time curled around one of your feet, each exhale a little purr against your toes.

You’d carried the weight of this crush around for too many years. You rubbed your palms against your eyes, sighing as you came to terms with your feelings for Jean for what felt like the thousandth time. Your pining was starting to take its toll, too, what with the sleeping giant so close yet so far away.

And you still felt like you were missing something.

Throughout the night, your friends had seemingly been playing coy, teasing Jean about getting you such a big, sentimental gift. Maybe they had all caught wind of your suppressed feelings and were poking at Jean for even daring to indulge you. Now you were just getting frustrated with your thoughts, sighing as you tried to squeeze your eyes shut and force yourself to sleep.

But then you heard a little sound, the soft buzz of your phone against the wood of the night stand.

Jean: You awake?

Your heart skipped a little in your chest as you saw his name flash upon your screen. You texted him nearly every day, yet he never failed to send a little jolt of adrenaline down your spine.

You: Yeah. Can’t sleep.

Jean: Me either. Cabin is too fucking cold.

You: I have a kitty asleep on my feet, definitely helps beat the chill.

Jean: A warm kitty sounds nice right now.

Only a few seconds passed before the next message appeared.

Jean: Wanna come keep me company?

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment, your mind not even thinking about the words in front of you. Instead, you were picturing Jean in his bed, hair tussled with his own phone in his hand as he texted you, light spilling over his bare chest in the dark. You wondered what he was thinking—maybe he just wanted you to bring the cat over to see him for a bit, or maybe his mind was wandering in the same place yours was, which was picturing him naked beneath his sheets.

You set the phone down, momentarily starting to panic.

You hadn’t prepared for this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility that Jean might be asking you to come get in his fucking bed with him. Thank god you took a leisurely shower earlier—and you still smelled good, you checked.

You stood up from the bed, watching the kitten stretch and quickly fall back asleep on top of the blankets. You bent down to slip on your pajama pants, but then found yourself debating if you should just leave the flimsy material behind.

If this was what you were hoping it was, walking in without pants would send the “I got the hint, I’m here to fuck,” message loud and clear.

But if this was just “hey pal come keep me company, I’m bored,” walking into his room in nothing but a shirt and panties could be quite awkward.

You decided to hedge your bets, stuffing your pajama bottoms back into your bag as that lingering liquid courage from the eggnog set in. If worse came to worse, you could always say you forgot to pack them.

You carefully closed the door behind you, making sure the cat didn’t follow.

Then, it was literally just a few steps to Jean’s room. Conveniently, his door was cracked. Did he get up and leave it open for you? Did he always sleep with his door cracked? Or had he planned all along to ask you to come over?

You shook your head, taking a deep breath. Those inessential thoughts needed to be quieted.

The door creaked as you slid past it, the old hinges signaling your arrival and making Jean’s attention whip towards you. His phone was still in his hand, like was watching your messages and too-eagerly anticipating your reply.

“Hey,” you whispered into the darkness, wincing as the door kept groaning as you pushed it shut behind you. You leaned against it for a moment, too nervous to just waltz up to his bed and fall in. You chewed at the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to break the silence.

“Aren’t you cold?” He whispered back, shifting in the bed.

His figure was illuminated by the pale, grey light from window, the snow clouds still keeping the moon suppressed in the sky. Like you’d imagined, he was shirtless, all those hard-earned muscles on display from where he was propped up on his elbows, sheets low against his waist.

“I thought you were cold, Mr. No Shirt.”

“You’re not wearing pants.”

“I’m not wearing pants,” you parroted back.

You watched the smile spread across his face, that darling, infuriatingly pretty smile that made you a little too happy in this moment.

He pulled his sheets back in invitation, revealing that he, too, was not wearing pants, only clad in blue boxer briefs that were sinfully tight around his upper thighs, etchings of Calvin Klein pressed against his lower stomach.

His hands were on you before you even settled onto the mattress, warm and greedy and pulling you flush against his body. All those worried thoughts you had before vanished under his touch, the message you had been missing suddenly loud and clear: you weren’t the only one hiding your feelings. All those veiled emotions came alive beneath wandering hands, your fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as his found the flesh of your thighs.

“Was this what you were thinking about when you invited me here?”

You breathed in the smell of his warm skin as you settled against him, notes of his cologne still lingering against his body.

“This is what I think about all the time,” he confessed, nudging his thigh between your legs.

You couldn’t stop the moan that fell from your mouth as the muscles of his thigh pressed against your aching core.

“Me too,” you were pulling his face down to yours, thumbs against his cheeks as you pressed your lips to his.

A satisfied sound rang from both of your throats, lips melding and slanting against one another hungrily.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” His words were lost within the kiss, being swallowed down as you kept drinking him in.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You echoed back, gasping as his hands slid underneath your shirt and began to wander across your belly, reaching up toward your ribcage.

You both knew the answer to that: you were idiots, too scared to admit feelings even though they were clearly on display for everyone around you. But now the question didn’t matter, all the answers you wanted about to be shared between your anxious bodies with starved kisses and touches.

You shamelessly pressed yourself a little harder against his thigh, sighing as your pussy found relief against his leg. He groaned at your action, moving his thigh back and forth a little bit to see how you would react. When you whimpered, your own thighs squeezing around his, he smirked, repeating the motion of sweeping his thick, sturdy thigh back and forth between your legs.

“You like that?” His head was tilting down, teeth nipping at your jaw and down your neck as your head fell back against the pillow.

“Y-yes, feels so good.”

His hands were still traveling, wandering across your heated skin like he wanted to map your curves into his memory. He groaned against your throat when he discovered you’d also forgotten to wear anything under your t-shirt, his thumbs lazily brushing the undersides of your breasts.

You felt like you were burning beneath his sheets, like he was painting fire against your skin with every touch. His large hands engulfed your breasts, carefully kneading and rolling your soft flesh in his palms. He was eager to kiss you again, to slip his tongue past your parted lips and get addicted to your taste.

Jean pinched and pulled at your hardening nipples, greedily taking your little mewls into his mouth. He touched you like he already knew you, pulling at your body like you were the perfect little sex doll on strings for him to play with; rocking you on his thigh, tugging at your nipples, tongue dancing in your mouth, his hair tickling your cheeks, his cock hard and hot against his stomach.

Your panties were getting more and more wet by the second, the soaked material sinking into your folds as you rubbed yourself against the downy hairs and rounded, solid muscle of his upper thigh. His boxer briefs were bunching closer to his hips, pre-cum already staining against the fabric where his cock was imprinted into the threads. You slipped your hand down his impressive chest, fingers dipping into the elastic of his briefs.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned against your lips, pulling back to suck in a breath as your fingertips brushed against the head of his cock, “fuck you’re so hot riding my thigh like that, so fucking wet.”

“You did say you wanted a warm kitty.”

Your words had him pinching harder at your nipples, making you gasp as he chuckled.

“Mhm I can’t wait to play with your kitty, make you mine,” he punctuated his sentence by bouncing his leg up, sending electric pulses of pleasure racing over your nerves.

You responded by pulling his cock from its confines, wrapping your fingers around it and tugging at the silken skin. God he was thick, barely fitting in your palm as you moved your wrist up and down. You suddenly felt so small against him, realizing that he was dwarfing you just by lying next to you in the bed. His long, thick fingers could spread across the entirety of your chest, the thigh sliding against your pussy was enormous, but it felt like it belonged there; you could get used to riding him like this.

You both fell into a frenzied, delirious rhythm, your bodies bucking and panting as you found bliss against each other.

His hands slid down your body, leaving your tender breasts and searching for a new home. He found your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he rocked you back and forth against his thigh himself, using the strength in his forearms to have your pussy pressed down against him in the most perfect way to have you seeing stars and whining his name.

“Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum just from riding me?”

“Fuck, yeah, yes, please, make me cum like this.”

Your hand had gone slack against his cock, your mind almost unable to concentrate under the waves of pleasure building and coiling inside you.

It felt too good to have his rapacious hands on your hips, grip mean and tight as he basically fucked you against his thigh. You wanted to scream, your other hand clawing at the back of his neck for stability.

“Baby,” he breathed, peppering a few kisses along your cheek, “could…could you call me daddy when you cum?”

There was a hesitancy in his voice, like he was ashamed to ask such a thing.

Your lower belly clenched, heat racing across all your nerve endings like he’d just poured sin straight out of his mouth.

You nodded your head for him, uncontrollable moans and gasps getting in the way of your own words. The thought of calling him daddy, that sent something wicked down to your pussy, had your fingers squeezing and tugging at his cock again and your eyes falling shut.

It felt like your sanity was breaking, like reality was splintering and this wasn’t real—you were dreaming again, weren’t you? But then you felt his cock twitch in your hand, felt your swollen clit brush against your panties and his thigh, and you were thrusted back into the actuality of your situation. You were with Jean, he was groaning in your ear, and you were about to cum all over him.

“D—da…,” you were choking, so overwhelmed with a final cresting of bliss that you almost felt like sobbing.

But he just clutched you more tightly, pressed you harder against him, whispering your name in encouragement to let yourself go for him.

Then, you lost all of your sensibilities, euphoria washing over your body as you snapped and came undone with a little whine of, “daddy,” against his lips. You slowed the rocking of your hips, your heart beating out of your chest, your pussy pulsing and clenching as you rode out the last remnants of your orgasm.

“Holy fucking shit that’s so hot, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, one of his hands smoothing against your cheek.

“Wha—,” you smiled, shaking your head as you caught your breath, “what are you doing with a daddy kink, Jean?”

He mimicked your smile, hands moving to slide your ruined panties down your legs and removed the rest of your clothing as he repositioned your bodies. You let him move you around like a ragdoll, so delirious in your afterglow that you barely even registered how he was hooking your legs onto his shoulders.

“Do you not like calling me daddy?” There was a seriousness laced into his tone that told you he’d drop it if it made you uncomfortable.

“I like it,” you fisted one of your hands in his hair, bringing his lips to yours for a slow, messy kiss, “just didn’t expect it.”

“I’m full of surprises, baby.”

You felt the head of his cock nudge between your wet folds, his hands back on your hips where they belonged. Your head fell back against the pillow as he started to push inside of you, stretching your walls and making your toes go almost numb from the pleasure. You felt like you were splitting apart, like a fissure was forming down the middle of your body, stemming from where he was spearing into you.

With your legs on his broad shoulders, he was pushing you into the mattress, his hands urging your hips to relax and let him sink into your warm heat.

“Ohhhh fuckkkk daddy,” you couldn’t help but to whine, all your senses suddenly overwhelmed again. You were drowning in him, falling deeper and deeper into the throes of heaven with every inch of his fat cock slipping inside of you.

“God you’re so tight,” he presses his forehead to yours, keen eyes watching how your lips were falling apart and your eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure, “that’s right, daddy’s going to take such good care of you.”

It felt like all your history with him was being wiped away, like this moment wasn’t about two friends fulfilling all their years of mutual pining, but instead about a new relationship blooming between two bodies full of lust and desire. This was about Jean fucking you senseless, about him taking control and finally having what’s belonged to him for longer than he probably even realized. You wanted to lose yourself to him, lose yourself to his appetite and just let him devour you.

All the air left your lungs when bottomed out inside of you, your walls clenching and sucking him in. He stayed still for a moment, nearly lost himself at the feeling of your cunt wrapped so tightly around his cock.

“So fucking perfect,” he groaned, dragging his cock out of you slowly before pressing in again, your cunt greedily sucking him back in.

“I always have been,” you teased, one hand lost in his hair while the other slid down the expanse of his back. You bucked your hips in his hands, coaxing him to keep moving.

“Oh fuck. Good girl.”

His praise made you feel drunk, liquid heat rushing to your ears and between your legs.

He began to snap his hips, repeatedly burying his cock into your depths, the angle of your body making him hit that fleshy patch inside of you. You cried out at the feeling of being so stuffed, your walls burning from the intrusion but that coil inside your belly tightening again, hotter and more intense than before.

“Mhmmm, such a good girl, I promise,” you pressed your lips to his in reassurance, letting your breathy moans fall into his mouth as he started to get a little rougher. His pace was steady, solid, a hard motion of his cock thrusting in and out of you, each push and pull full of purpose and passion. Every plunge was making your lower stomach spasm, making pleasure burst across your body so forcefully that you felt that urge to cry again.

“Wanted to fuck you for so long,” his face was tucked underneath your chin, mouth trailing across your throat between his words. A particularly hard suck against your neck had your back arching, breasts flattening against his chest and your nails clinging to him.

Jean sat back on his knees, big hands smoothing down your thighs as he looked to where your bodies were conjoined, watching how your pussy enveloped his cock with every thrust of his hips, sweet skin encasing all of his length. He looked enraptured by the sight, groaning and hissing every time he pressed inside of you.

Then his eyes were flashing up to your face, softening as he took note of your blissed-out state, your face flushed and your lip between your teeth.

“So pretty,” he mused, a palm ghosting up to your chest to toy with one of your tits as he found a new rhythm.

You were ensnared by the scene before you as well, eyes wide with delight as you admired the man before you. Jean felt unhinged, electric between your legs, like he’d finally let go and was pouring all his clandestine secrets into your willing body. His chestnut hair was swept over his shoulders, the muscles in his arms and across his body rolling, rounded and thick like he was marble come to life. And his face was smooth, pretty, concentrated, cheeks dusky with a dark blush as he found euphoria from within your body.

Your hips began to match his thrusts, bucking up into him in order to feel his thick cock fall deeper into you. His strong hands encouraged you, gripping into the supple flesh of your thighs as he pressed himself into your wetness, faster and faster with every thrust.

“Daddy,” you called out to him, having to bite back a grin as you observed how quickly you earned his attention, “you feel s-so good,” your hand was traveling down your chest, trailing over his fingers on your breast before snaking down to your clit, “p-please let me cum again.”

You had an inkling that he would take over for you.

His thick, long fingers hovered over your own, carefully aiding in swirling over your aching clit. You hissed, recognizing the buildup to orgasm pooling within your belly.

Jean’s other hand slid higher upon your body, fingers lacing around your ribcage, framing the underside of your breast. He began to forcefully pull your body into his, sliding you upon and down the sheets and upon his cock. You cried out, legs tightening at his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, begging him to devour you and take what he wanted. His thumb was almost impatient on your clit, now circling so quickly that your body was shaking, lower stomach clenching and unclenching repeatedly like you were lost in a reckless tide.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last with you squeezing me like that, baby.”

Your mouth watered at the thought of him finding that ultimate pleasure inside of you. Your ears became tuned to the chorus of resonances between your legs, the sweet, wet sounds of skin against skin, of slick at the base of a fat cock, of Jean grunting your name like a lost prayer.

The final chord of your sanity was threatening to snap, you could feel it again, like he was pulling the strings of your body too tightly and you were going to splinter and break with just the right swipe of his thumb.

“I-inside,” you mewled, unable to keep your eyes open any longer as your thighs began to quake, “daddy—oh fuck, fuck—cum inside me, please,”

God you were so fucking close to falling off the edge, and he could feel it, using his grip to bring you even harder and faster down onto your cock to get you careening and falling again.

Your push into oblivion came when you heard him pleading, almost whining, above you, sweat dripping down his skin as his syllables flowed together, “please, please, please, fuck, cum for daddy, cum for me, please.”

You could both feel it, how you creamed around his cock, pussy sucking him in so deliciously tight that it caused him to lose all control. His fingers dug a little too deep, his cock throbbing and pumping deep inside of you with his release. It was like the world went quiet, like a blanket of snow fell onto your bodies and hushed your sounds and cooled your skin. You could feel the heavy weight of him inside of you, like he was meant to be there. Your body relaxed, feeling like you were sinking into the mattress and he was the only thing keeping you from being lost.

When he finally pulled his spent cock from inside you, he wasn’t gone long. His hands were back on you again, pulling you in for simple, affectionate kisses and rubbing tenderly at the places he’d perhaps explored too roughly.

“Jean…” you cut yourself off with a yawn, fatigued limbs winding into his own.

His thigh found its home between your legs again, both of you groaning with a mixture of lust and disgust as you felt his cum drip into a mess between your thighs.

“Whatever it is can wait until morning, we need to sleep.”

“Oh fuck, it’s Christmas.”

He nuzzled your cheek, lips searching for yours.

“Mhmm, Merry Christmas, baby.”

You laughed, laying your head against his chest.

_______________

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but it felt like you spent a small eternity in Jean’s bed before your eyes opened again. When you awoke, he was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with the kitten in his arms. She was ready to play, striped tail swishing as he dangled a toy mouse just out of her reach.

“What time is it?” You stretched, suddenly all too aware that you were still very naked beneath the sheets.

“It’s only eight, everyone else is still asleep aside from Mikasa who actually went for a run in the fucking snow.”

Jean smiled, hair tucked behind his ears, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you realized just how madly in love with him you were. You always aimed to make him smile, to hear him laugh, but to see him gazing at you in the morning sun with pure adoration shining in his hazel eyes had you practically melting into the bed.

“I meant what I said last night, you know,” he said, turning the kitten loose to run across the bed.

“You said a lot of things last night, daddy,” you teased, watching his cheeks turn a pretty pink at the mention of that name.

“I meant about you never spending another holiday alone. Because, you know, I’d like to…” he trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was genuinely nervous.

You sat up, running a hand down his arm before kissing at his shoulder, momentarily getting lost in the smell and feel of him.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

No one was surprised that the two of you, and the kitten, spent every single holiday together thereafter, mostly naked, and always smiling.

#jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #aot jean #aot jean kirstein #snk jean #snk jean kirstein #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #snk #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #aot #jean aot #jean kirstein fanfic

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Text

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝟒. ♡ 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

"Hi! I hope u have a lovely day :] I was wondering if I could request an imagine where you're online friends with Gogy and one day you send him a picture wearing his merch and he can't stop thinking about it and finally ends up telling you he has a crush on you?? Thank you in advance :] I really enjoy your writing"

pairing: georgenotfound x reader

warnings: Zoom Video Communications none :)

links: | ao3 | request | masterlist |

⋆ song recommendation: Slowly by Josh Gilligan

(streamer bf gogy brainrot brrr) hello sweet anon! thank you for much for this request :) I love love love all the geo simps and their ideas. also thank you to my dearest LB for helping me with the plot help. happy reading, everyone! ♡ ᵍᵉⁿᵉ

You tapped your fingers on your desk, nails clattering at you waiting to be let into your third Zoom meeting of the day. Usually, you got off with only one lecture, but because of upcoming exams, you were finding yourself in and out of virtual meetings and office hours. Sure, it was better than jogging from building to building, fighting the crowds, and searching for a seat in a packed lecture hall, but it was still wearing you down beyond belief.

You rested your chin in your hand as your window went from white to dark grey, the square with your name getting wedged in beside the professor. Everyone’s cameras were off, a thankful sigh leaving your lips as your head slumped down to lay against your arm, the danger of falling asleep suddenly becoming more prominent.

You jumped slightly as your professor cleared their throat, sharing their screen and beginning to ramble off facts listed on the slideshow. You played with your keyboard, focused on removing a crumb from beneath your spacebar that was almost unreachable. You usually took notes in the class, but today was just one of those days.

“... And with that in mind, I’m going to put you all into breakout rooms…” Your professor trailed off, eyebrows furrowed as they peered at their screen and clicked frantically to assign all of you to rooms. You yawned, smacking your cheeks and sitting up. You were determined not to be a shitty partner, at least. The white box popped up, inviting you to join breakout room four. That’s always lucky, you thought to yourself as you joined.

Once again, you were cursed to look at the buffering wheel of death as your internet struggled to sustain all your opened tabs. Please, just a little longer, you groaned internally, eyes dashing towards the receiver and exhaling in relief as your computer connected to the breakout room. You turned on your camera, eliciting your partner, George, to do the same.

You flashed him a smile as you struggled to open the article from the previous night. “Hi! How’s it going?” You greeted, not yet looking at him.

“I’m good, actually. How are you?” He engaged, his voice deep and tired.

You finally managed to split your screen enough so that you could see him and the article. “Yeah, I’m good too. Thanks,” you chewed the inside of your cheek, eyes skimming some of the notes you’d etched into the margins. “So, did you have any idea what,” you paused, squinting at the author’s name, “Robert A. Schneider means when he discusses how ‘men of letters’ fear the lower class more than anything?” You asked, as your eyes trailed across your screen to finally gauge his reaction, you were taken aback by his appearance.

His soft features and dark eyes made you feel safe. As he smiled softly, running his fingers into his hair, he seemed to be racking his brain for an answer. He opened his mouth to begin, detailing what you had previously thought with better articulation.

The two of you got through the basic questions the professor had scripted for the students, then finding yourself still stuck in the breakout room. On a normal day, your professor would have pulled everyone back into the call after the first few questions.

George swiveled in his chair quietly as he listened to you briefly explain your area of study. His kind smile made your heart flutter slightly. Deep down, you hoped the two of you would be stuck in the room for a while.

Soon your topics blended into what kind of movies you both watched, a debate on where you could buy the cheapest bread on campus, and what kind of party people the two of you were. After an hour, instead of worrying whether or not your professor was dead, you were swapping numbers and planning out how the two of you would turn the Florida Keys into the headquarters of your new cult where the members would all worship a separate bitchy philosopher.

You pulled one of your legs to your chest, resting your cheek against your knee as his laughing died out. “Okay, this might be a weird question, but I need to know why your webcam is so clear. Is it like an OnlyFans thing or…”

He chuckled. “Yeah it’s definitely OnlyFans,” he joked, making you laugh. “I’m actually a ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ” he mumbled.

Your eyebrows perked playfully. “You’re a what?”

He pursed his lips to fit the grin stretching across his face. “ᵃ ᵐⁱⁿᵉᶜʳᵃᶠᵗ ˢᵗʳᵉᵃᵐᵉʳ”

You snorted slightly. “Sorry darling, you’ll have to speak up. What was that?”

He wet his lips, rolling his eyes as he bashfully groaned. “I’m a Minecraft streamer.”

You giggled, him basking in your disbelief. He smiled a bit brighter as he shrugged, leaning back in his chair as you rambled off questions. “There’s no way! Nerd!” you chaffed, making him smile as if he liked it when you playfully teased him. “Are you super popular?” You asked, catching your breath.

He bit his bottom lip swaying his head slightly as if deciding not to answer. “Mmmm. Not really.”

“Well, come on, Georgios! Give me your Twitch user and I’ll be your biggest fan, I promise.” He laughed at your response, digging out his phone to send you a link.

“I’d like to see you try,” he mumbled.

After the class had finally ended, you’d learned that your professor was on the phone with their credit card company. In the following weeks, you and George were in constant contact, even becoming part of each other’s daily routines.

As you studied for finals, you’d turn on his stream, letting his voice alleviate some of the stress of your exams. He knew you were watching and would even drop hints for you in what he was saying, or he’d blatantly just ask what you were talking about in your essay for a certain class. After the stream would end, he’d call you either on Discord or the phone, just so it felt like the two of you were studying together.

Jokingly, you badgered him to send you some of his merch, threatening to buy it from a bootleg online store if he didn’t. He had only brushed it off at the time, but shortly after, you received a hoodie in the mail with his gamer tag printed across it.

It was late at night when you’d received it, the tiredness of your eyes and George’s dulcet tones lulling you towards the idea of a dead sleep. Yet, you were drawn from your pleasant relaxation with the shrilling of your doorbell. You shrugged out of your blanket cocoon, grabbing your phone and trudging down the stairs. As you tore open the bag, your phone buzzed with a text from George asking if you’d seen something that one of his chat members. You chuckled softly and dug your hand into the material, holding it out in front of you.

You snickered to yourself, running your fingers across the red patch in the center. You slipped it over your head, letting the softness of the fabric brush against your skin. You snapped a photo of yourself and stumbled back upstairs before sending it to him.

When you returned, George was focused on something he was crafting. His eyes darted down to one corner of the screen where his phone was probably sitting. His eyes flashed back up with a smug grin on his face as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. Your “Thanks sugar daddy xx,” probably didn’t help either.

“What, chat?” His voice came out slightly uneven as he bit back a smile. You skimmed what people were asking. “It’s not a nude. A friend of mine got something I sent them,” he answered nonchalantly, finishing up what he was doing. The chat began to spam quietly. “No, it’s not a maid costume. Jesus Christ.” He leaned back in his chair, grabbing his phone and opening your message.

A grin spread across his face, alongside the light dusting of rosy pigment settling in his cheeks. He chuckled to himself, quickly replying before getting back to his game. You scoffed at his response.

George (H325) Anything for my silly little baka

You curled up again, putting away your schoolwork and devoting your attention to watching his stream as you drifted off to sleep.

Once again, you found yourself at the mercy of your internet as you attempted to join the breakout room assigned to you. You almost jumped out of your chair when it finally connected and you found George waiting for you. You smiled slightly as he scrolled through his phone. “What are the chances?” You asked, pulling his eyes to you.

He grinned, clicking off whatever he was looking at. “I was just about to raid your inbox.”

You chuckled. “I almost wore your merch to class, just to out you to whoever my partner was,” you joked, making him roll his eyes.

“I’m glad it’s me then,” he responded. You began scrounging around for your article. After a beat of hesitation, George spoke up again. “Hey, I’m glad you like the sweatshirt…” You perked an eyebrow in his direction. “I actually haven’t been able to get that picture out of my head. I know it’s stupid,” he stated lightly, chuckling nervously. You could feel your heart beating in your ears. “It’s so lame, but I think I have a crush on you.”

You sat back in your chair, stunned. “I mean, the feeling’s mutual. Even if it’s lame,” you mirrored, winking at him. “I mean, maybe it’s not lame because I know I like you.”

He smiled to himself at your answer before chuckling, “Should we Zoom date or something?”

#georgenotfound headcanons #georgenotfound x y/n #georgenotfound fluff #georgenotfound x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt fluff #mcyt imagine #college au #gnf x reader #gnf brainrot #gnf my beloved #gnf x y/n

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holykillercake · 3 years

Text

Barrels, Bets and Balls

pairing: Zoro x Drunk!Reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: The Straw hats are presented with millenary rum from an Ancient Giant Tribe and, well, no one is giving you that anymore.

higlight: ¨And then you said ¨maybe I should wear your underwear.¨

warning: Don´t read and drive.

notes: HOLD MY BEER! Hi, guys! This was a lovely request from @roronoatrash for a drunk s/o! I have to say this is my first time writing a drunk character so I´m a bit nervous hahaha I really really hope you like it! Have fun and drink responsibly! <3 @vemuabhi

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

¨Agh!¨ you mumbled when you tried to lift your head from the pillow. It felt like the Thousand Sunny had run over you a thousand times.

¨Hm?¨

¨Regret ... mhbeh ... thing...¨ your mouth was so dry that talking became almost impossible.

¨What´s that?¨ Zoro asked, definitely amused by your deplorable state.

¨Hmmm... I don´t... regret... anything.¨

¨Of course you don´t. You don´t remember anything.¨ he shifted on the bed, making it look like a black hole was opening in the mattress. ¨Here, take this.¨ He handed you something.

¨I don´t need your pity... ma-marimo.¨

¨This is not pity, Y/N. This is a painkiller. Come on, you´re gonna feel better.¨

When he helped you to sit on the bed, you noticed something stuck to the window, preventing the sun from entering and blinding you. The greenette removed a few locks of hair that laid plastered across your face before helping you with the herculean task of taking the pill.

¨If the stupid cook is not dead he must have made coffee.¨ he stood up, grabbing your slippers and placing them in front of you.

In the meantime, your mind tried to gather whatever useful information you had to understand what had happened, but everything was a void blank.

¨You ok?¨ he asked, hand on the doorknob. ¨Do you want me to bring it to you?¨

¨No, it´s ok...¨ you pinched the bridge of your nose, making one last effort to remember at least a crumb of the previous hours. You were fast to give up, though. ¨What happened?¨

¨Uhhh, you got drunk and passed out.¨ he said like it was no big deal.

¨Hmm, ok...¨ you took a few seconds to digest his words ¨but when you say ´you´ you mean ´you me´ or ´you guys´?¨

A chuckle left his mouth ¨Come and you´ll see.¨

The sun shone high in the sky, forcing you to wince back into your room like the time you had your shadow stolen. You stumbled and lowered yourself to the floor, crawling away from the light.

¨You go!¨ you said dramatically, covering your eyes ¨Run away and leave me! Tell everyone... that I fought until the last moment!¨

Zoro scoffed at your poorly performed scene, walking closer to you and squatting, back turned to you. ¨Hop, soldier. We don´t leave nakamas behind, right?¨

Your cheeks reddened with his gesture, and you hid your hungover smitten smile on the crook of his neck. ¨Hold tight, Y//N.¨

Oh, I will. Ouch, my head!

As soon as you reached the main deck, your eyes widened, ignoring the bright sun, and your mouth fell in a perfect O.

¨Oh my freaking... what happened here?¨

If it weren't for the countless barrels, you would have easily thought that you had been chewed up by a sea king.

The Straw Hats were scattered across the deck, mixed with garbage, blankets, and rolls of toilet paper. Their unorthodox positions would definitely grant them a stiff neck.

Zoro carried you to the kitchen where you found Usopp and Chopper talking at the kitchen table.

¨... like I fasted in a desert for forty nights, and then I survived... a buster call. And like... all of the battleships were pointed at me. And I was catching fire before that.¨ you heard Usopp whine to the doctor, who wrapped some bandages on him.

¨Oi, who made coffee?¨ Zoro asked purposely loud.

¨SHHHH!¨ you and the sniper hissed at him.

¨Sanji did.¨ Chopper answered ¨Oh, Y/N, how are you feeling?¨

¨Like my heart is beating in my head.¨

¨At least there´s a heartbeat.¨ the swordsman replied, putting you close to a chair so you could take a seat. ¨Hm, Chopper, I saw the cook dead outside.¨

¨Yeah, he made coffee and then passed out again.¨ Chopper discreetly pointed at Usopp´s bandages.

¨He passed out and spilled hot coffee on me!¨ he roared, stopping midway to whine.

¨But you two look pretty good, though.¨ You referred to Chopper and Zoro.

Not Usopp, definitely not Usopp.

¨Night watch. I didn´t drink last night.¨ the doctor sighed, relieved.

¨And I can handle my alcohol.¨ the greenette bragged, placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of you.

¨What happened anyway?¨

¨Oh! You don´t remember too, Y/N? That millenary rum was really strong!¨ Chopper asked, fascinated by the effects of the beverage.

¨Millenary rum?¨

¨Yeah! It was a gift from an Ancient Giant Tribe!¨

¨Giant tribe?¨ you kept repeating every word he said, double-checking to see if you were not hearing things.

¨Y/N, what´s the last thing you remember?¨

¨Hmm, let me see...¨ you rested your elbows on the table, hands covering your eyes. Wow, even thinking hurts.

<~>

¨I swear to God, Tony! When Luffy falls into the water, you can not jump after him!¨ you yelled, panting from climbing back to the ship and soaking wet of salty water.

He pouted and whined. You only called him ¨Tony¨ when you were upset with him.

¨So-Sorry Y/N... AaaAgh...¨ his voice trembled, and you couldn´t help but soften a little.

¨Ugh, forget it.¨ you laid down on the grass and sighed, the reindeer on your belly ¨Are you alright, Chopper?¨

¨Y-Yeah...¨

Zoro emerged a few seconds later, carrying Luffy on his shoulder.

You had engaged in a fight against some bandits who were causing trouble on an island called Gran Brabados. From what you could understand, they were descendants of the Ancient Giant Tribe who emancipated from Elbaf after years of conflict.

¨I don´t wanna be rude, but¨ Usopp spoke to one of them ¨I thought giants were warriors. Like Broggy and Dory. Those guys fought for over 100 years!¨

¨Well, most of us are, but some are not. That's why we left Elbaf.¨ the giant said ¨We're not interested in war, we're interested in rum!¨

All of you stopped for a second, wondering if you heard the same thing.

¨Eh?¨ you spoke.

¨We don´t make war! We make rum!¨ he threw his huge hands in the air, chest puffing out of pride.

¨Oi, really? Give us some!¨ Zoro immediately threw Luffy on the floor and ran towards the giant. Next thing you knew, the giant burst into laughter.

¨Gabababa!¨ he hunched as he laughed ¨Sorry, but tiny people like you can't handle it! Gababababa!¨

You were not sure what offended you the most, he calling you all, who just saved their asses, weak or having to dodge the huge drops of saliva that came out of his mouth.

After insisting a lot, he ended up giving in, presenting the straw hats with barrels and barrels of millenary rum. Yeah, millenary. Rum distilled for one thousand years, or at least that is what he said.

The celebration didn´t take long to begin. Because Luffy had decided to set sail that same day, you would all be bathed with a pleasant sunset as you partied.

¨Wow!¨ you shouted after chugging the first tankard. ¨Oooohh, this is good booze!¨ you shook your head, already feeling the kick.

¨Girl, you should go easy on this. It´s super strong.¨ Franky said, making you scoff at him, possessed by some waspish Viking demon.

¨And here I thought you were hard-boiled.¨

¨What?¨

¨O-Oi, Y/N...¨ Usopp said, worried, sipping his drink.

¨Haven´t you learned anything with Tom-san?¨ you clicked your tongue ¨Meh, I guess I´ll be the one making things with a DON around here!¨ you chugged more of the rum.

The shipwright glared at you with a red beam coming out of his left eye. You remember questioning yourself for a second. Maybe you had said too much, but it was just for a brief second before you insulted someone else.

Back at the kitchen table, flashes of the events from the last night began to pop in your mind. Guilt and embarrassment gushed over you, making you twist and cringe.

¨And then you said ¨maybe I should wear your underwear.¨ Chopper shivered as he quoted your words.

¨Nooo...¨ you cried out.

¨It gets worse, Y/N.¨

¨What?! How?!¨

¨Because after that,¨ Zoro started to speak, and you saw him struggle to stop a smile from cracking. That was not a good sign. ¨you said "your balls are so small Robin could have grabbed them with one hand!¨

The men laughed and slapped the table as you looked for a place to bury your head or a knife to stab yourself in the heart.

¨WHY DIDN´T YOU STOP ME?¨ you yelled, pulling your boyfriend by the collar and shaking him.

He placed a hand on your forehead, a silly thing he did every time you got too nervous. ¨Oi, you´re a big girl. You know what you´re doing.¨

¨Noo, obviously I don´t!¨ He smiled.

He would not be the one to tell you, but he did have to stop Franky from Radical Beam-ing the hell out of you several times. For some reason, you were very keen on insulting the cyborg's masculinity.

Another thing he wouldn´t tell you was that he didn´t touch the rum in the last night. He decided to remain sober and look after you, making sure you would not kill someone or get yourself killed.

However, despite all the trouble you gave him, he recognized your strength. Straw hat after straw hat, you managed to defeat everyone in a stupid drinking contest.

The biggest achievement was to drag Luffy into the game since he dislikes the taste of alcohol. When he denied being part of it, you teased him by saying,¨I think you are just scared, Luffy. You know what, maybe I should be the Captain of this ship! Maybe, I will be the Pirate King!¨

That was about the sixth punch Zoro took for you. Or because of you.

The darker the night fell, the wilder you all got. And then insults began to come from every direction to every direction. You were arguing, then laughing, then crying and apologizing. If it wasn´t for Zoro, Chopper would have had a heart attack.

¨Nami, you thief! Give me back my queen, or I´ll be forced to shoot a Bidori Moshi at you!¨ Usopp yelled, holding a bunch of cards in his hands.

¨Oi, Usopp! How dare you speak with a lady like that?! I´ll kick you in the face!¨

¨Bring it on, Sanji! I eat eggplants like you for breakfast every day! AND IT´S GOD USOPP FOR YOU!¨

¨Zoro...¨ Chopper cried, falling close to where the swordsman was sitting. ¨W-What are we going to do?¨

¨Uh? Ah, sit back and relax. You know these guys, they are ju-¨

¨Y/N-san, may I see your panties?¨

¨Well, too bad for you I´m not weari-¨

¨OI! Y/N!¨ Zoro dashed over, throwing you on his shoulder.

That was about the first punch Brook took for you. Or, again, because of you.

And then, as the number of biological hazards began to decline, managing the situation became easier and easier. Chopper took care of the fallen drunken, and Zoro threw blankets over them.

In the end, it was you and Luffy. You were still arguing about the things you said earlier. Both of you were exhausted but didn´t want to give in. The argument only ended when you withdrew your words, saying that he would be the one to become King of the Pirates.

Luffy fell dead asleep immediately, and Zoro took the cue to approach you. ¨Hey, Y/N. Our time, let´s go?¨

You turned to him and nodded, red cheeks and tired eyes. He had to scoop you up and carry you back to your room since your legs were not part of the equation anymore, and you would let go and fall every time he tried to carry you on his back.

¨Heeey, you´re not drunk!¨ you whined, almost falling asleep. ¨Why aren´t you drunk?¨

¨Cause you drank everything.¨

¨Noo, I can find s´more.¨ you uncovered yourself, trying to get out of bed.

¨I bet you can.¨ he said, covering you again and pulling you closer.

The warmth of his body, altogether with his hand gently rubbing your back, made your system shut down.

¨You know... I can kick your ass... in a drinking contest...¨

¨Yeah,¨ he chuckled ¨I bet you can.¨

That was definitely not true, but for you, well, for you he could pretend it was.

#one piece #oneshot #worst generation #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #franky #usopp #chopper #luffy #nami #brook #thousand sunny #elbaf #rum #pirate king #opfanfic

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ragingpancake · 3 years

Text

How To Woo Your Scientist In 100 Cookies or Less

Rodney has a secret admirer. Prompt fic. See end of fic for prompt. ~1800 words.

The first time it appears is the morning after the ridiculous mission to M5-X847 (more accurately described as ‘Planet of the Bat-Shit Crazy Natives and Their Ridiculous Trading Ceremonies’ in the privacy of Rodney’s own mind and in the not-so-nearly private mess hall whenever anyone else brings it up). It’s left sitting on his desk by his absolute favorite computer on a folded up napkin from the mess hall, taunting him.

He’s still staring at it as if it holds the secrets to recharging a ZPM, the cure for male pattern baldness and the name of the man Carly Simon wrote a song about when John ambles in for his obligatory weekly hour of light switch duty.

“Ooh, cookie,” he says. Rodney smacks his hand away with a squawk of indignation.

“Mine!”

“Well, are you gonna eat it or just stare at it?”

Rodney settles for the latter while John unfairly makes Atlantis and all of her Ancient Tech roll over for him like the complete slut she is. Besides, he argues silently, it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to kill him with baked goods. It’s always better to be safe than sorry.

Fifty nine minutes and fifty eight seconds later, John plucks the cookie off of the napkin and pops it into his mouth, crunching loudly and spewing crumbs everywhere.

“What did you do that for?” Rodney bellows.

“Just makin’ sure it was safe and citrus free,” John says with a toothy grin. “Next time, you’ll know. Cya later buddy,” he says and ambles back out of the room without a care in the world.

“Next time? How do you know there will be a next time?” Rodney yells after him. “How do you know?”

—-

There is, oddly enough, a ‘next time’. The next morning when Rodney stumbles into his lab, bleary eyed after a late night watching terrible movies and eating horrifyingly greasy food (thank you, Daedalus) with John, there’s another cookie sitting innocently on his desk, silently begging to be eaten. He’s still worried about the possibility of an assassination attempt but he rationalizes that no one is really going to use precious chocolate chips just to murder him so he lifts it up, sniffs it and then shoves it greedily into his mouth.

Less than hour later, he’s still alive and wishing he had another.

—-

By the fifth cookie, Rodney stops checking for the possibility of citrus-laced baked goods. Clearly, someone finally appreciates his genius and has decided the best way to thank him is to ply him with delicious sweet treats.

For once, Rodney doesn’t complain.

——

“Another one?” John asks, eying the 30th cookie longingly. “How many is that now?”

“I don’t know. I’ve lost count,” Rodney lies.

John just snorts in response.

——

“This is getting out of hand,” Kavanagh gripes. “How come we’re not allowed to eat around the computers, but he never says anything about that damn cookie appearing every morning? Why doesn’t Sh—”

Radek steps on Kavanagh’s foot and Miko’s elbow catches him in the side. Kavanagh squeaks and then miraculously falls silent.

Rodney eyes his scientists suspiciously “Why doesn’t who do what?”

“Nothing,” Radek says. “Is nothing but idiotic mumblings of a jealous man.”

“Jealous. Yeah, right,” Kavanagh snorts under his breath.

Rodney is still not convinced and he spends the rest of the day trying to bully Kavanagh into telling him exactly what’s going on.

Kavanagh is gleeful at the idea of knowing something that Rodney doesn’t.

—

“Hey Rodney?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t you ever wonder who’s sending you cookies?”

Rodney eats the last bite of his cookie and glances over at John. “Not really, no. Don’t really care either, as long as they keep coming.”

“Oh.”

John goes back to touching uncatalogued Ancient tech while Rodney practically has oral sex with the left-over chocolate on his fingers. Rodney’s so caught up in his little delicious world that he doesn’t even notice when the device starts glowing in an ominous way.

“Uh… Rodney.”

Three seconds later, John’s unconscious on the floor and Rodney’s yelling into his headset for a medical team.

——

The next day, there is no cookie.

——

By the third cookieless day, Rodney decides that maybe Atlantis was the secret Cookie Fairy, because whoever it was is clearly pissed off that he almost killed John.

——

“I brought you something,” Rodney announces as soon as he palms the door to John’s room open. It’s the only room, other than his own that he’s ever been able to get into without resorting to screwing around with the crystals. He’s never questioned it, but now he’s grateful that John never had the urge to lock him out.

“Been stockpiling the goods from your Cookie Fairy?” John asks grumpily. Rodney cuts him slack because he knows he still has a killer headache from that damn piece of Ancient Tech.

“No,” Rodney says. “I uh, actually made these for you, and by ‘made these for you’, I really mean I bribed the kitchen staff with an extra ten minutes of hot water in the mornings but um, yeah. I got them. For you.”

John gives him an odd look and Rodney wonders if maybe there’s brain damage that Keller missed on the scans. Wouldn’t be the first time, he thinks bitterly.

“It’s just… you seemed to always be hanging around when I had my cookie and I uh… know that I wasn’t exactly willing to share with you even though I know chocolate chip is your favorite. But that’s not the point. The point… the point is… I screwed up that day. I should have been paying more attention to what you were doing and I wasn’t and I’m sorry and, and, and will you just say something and stop looking at me like that?”

John gives him a slight smile. “Thanks Rodney. You wanna watch a movie?”

For the first time since the cookies stopped coming, Rodney feels like he can breathe again.

——

The next morning, there’s still no cookie, though Rodney really didn’t expect there to be. He doesn’t even really care, because while he acquired the cookies for John the previous evening, he’s the one who ate almost the whole damn plate and if he never sees another chocolate chip cookie again, it’ll be too damn soon.

He has a lot of catching up to do because ever since John got hurt on his watch, he hasn’t exactly been able to concentrate on his work and damn if it hasn’t piled up already.

He powers up his computer and scowls at the stack of papers littering his workspace. Grabbing a handful, he flips through them and then discards them like the complete and utter trash they are. Kavanagh never could finish up the simplest of equations.

He’s just about to log in to the network with the corner of a piece of paper sticking from under his keyboard catches his eye. He frowns and pulls it out. The handwriting is vaguely familiar.

Meet me at the East Pier. 1800 hours. -Cookie Fairy

Rodney doesn’t know whether to be flattered or frightened. He just hopes that whoever the Cookie Fairy is, they’ve forgiven him as easily as John has.

——

The doors to the East Pier slide open with ease and Rodney can’t stop the nervous flutter in the pit of his stomach. The sun is already beginning to set in the Lantean sky, casting a gentle glow over the calm water. Leaning against the railing, there’s a familiar set of slouched shoulders and a crop of dark, messy hair.

“John?”

He turns and gives Rodney a nervous grin. “Hey buddy.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand. What are you… what are you doing here?”

He holds out the plate of chocolate chip cookies. “Uh… surprise?”

For once, the great Rodney McKay is completely speechless.

John clears his throat and shifts nervously from one foot to the next. He sets the plate of cookies down on the railing and rubs at the back of his reddening neck. “So I guess you… Uh, I guess this really isn’t what you were expecting.”

“No,” Rodney says dumbly, because he really wasn’t. Miko? Sure. Simpson? Maybe. But John Sheppard? John fucking Sheppard? Not in a million years. “Why?”

”M5-X847."

“The marriage ceremony? The one where they made you put stupid flowers in your hair and, and, and…”

“That’s the one.”

“But why?” Rodney asks, because he needs to know.

“Because I wanted it to be real,” John blurts out. His ears are absolutely flaming at this point and Rodney’s sure they’re going to spontaneously combust if they get any brighter. “I needed… I needed you to know and I didn’t know how to tell you so I…”

“You baked. For me.”

“Every day.”

“Until you got hurt.”

“Well, yeah. It was kind of difficult when standing long enough to get to the bathroom was a chore. I was… I wanted to tell you that day, but you didn’t… you said you didn’t want to know.”

“I was afraid it was Kavanagh or some other equally terrible person!”

“Why would Kavanagh bake you cookies?”

“I don’t know! If could have been part of some nefarious plan to clog my arteries and send me to an early grave via horrendous heart blockage!”

John just stares at him. “Seriously?”

“Hey, it could happen.”

“Rodney, shut up,” John says and then he’s suddenly there, his lips pressed to Rodney’s.

It’s wonderful and terrifying and so right.

Rodney makes a little noise of surprise against John before he relaxes into his the kiss, reaching up tentatively to card his fingers through his silly hair.

When they break apart, they’re both panting.

“Was that… was that okay?”

“I don’t know,” Rodney says. “I think… purely for research purposes, you understand, I’m going to need you to kiss me again.”

“No problem,” John says and he leans in to kiss Rodney again.

——

By the time they’ve finished kissing, they’re both shivering in the chilly night air. John’s hair is messier than usual and Rodney’s lips are red and swollen.

“Seriously though,” Rodney says, burrowing closer to John’s side as John drops an arm around his shoulders. “Cookies? Really?”

“I figured that at least when it came to you, the old saying was true. The way to your heart is definitely through your stomach.”

“So you thought you could woo me with cookies?”

“It worked though,” John says triumphantly.

Rodney grins. It worked.

“Hey, next time, you think you could do peanut butter?”

“Shut up, Rodney,” John says fondly

“Why don’t you make me?”

“My pleasure.”

Prompt

:One day you come into work and find a cookie mysteriously placed on your desk. Grateful to whoever left this anonymous cookie, you eat it. The next morning you come in and find another cookie. This continues for months until one day a different object is left--and this time there's a note.

#mcshep #john sheppard #rodney mckay #sga #fandom: sga #stargate atlantis #ficlet #prompt fic #reposted from my old LJ as this is the only fic I've written in the past that didn't give me major second hand embarrassment.

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onemistresstorulethemall · 4 years

Text

There is darkness in the light

This is nsfw, as well as 99% of my blog, oops

Ship: Mammon x F!Reader

Word count: 1859

“Oh, don’t tell me you got cold feet now. It was just getting interesting.”, you faked some sweetness into your tone, “Don’t fold now. Let’s raise. Indulge me.”, you shifted your legs, changing which was on top of which, moving them a little too slow, catching the attention of a few hungry demons, “Unless, of course, you’re scared of losing to a human…”

Your last line sparked something in the demon you were facing. He seemed offended. Good, you thought, that was the point. You needed him to play right into your trap.

“As if you could scare me.”, he snapped back, “Sure. I’ll humour you.”, he pushed a few more chips in the centre of the table.

Turning towards one of his friends, who already folded, he stated with a big smirk on his face:

“Bet she’d be set for life if she won my pocket money.”

His friend chuckled at the remark, but his eyes didn’t follow. You had beat him enough times for him to know better, but you’ve yet to destroy every crumb of pride, so he still kept up a confident façade. However, it meant little to you. All that counted in that moment was to win.

“So, what have you got, little one?”, the demon mocked you.

Your eyes burned through him and fell onto your date for the night. The second born was eyeing you from the bar, flashing a cheeky smile and raising his glass in your honour. Mammon knew you’d win this round. You both knew, actually. His pact mark burned in a particular way that let you know you were lucky. It came in handy at times like this or times when you had to guess answers to a RAD exam you didn’t study for.

“Please, do the honours.”, your attention shifted to the demon in front of you.

A pair of kings. Not bad, but not good either. At least, not good enough. However, you were here to have fun, so you faked defeat.

“My…That’s a good hand.”, you bit your lip and frowned.

At that point in time, a bunch of demons gathered around your table, waiting to see the results. Funny enough, demons made bets on who would win.

“Wish you backed away when you could, huh?”, your opponent lit up a cigarette.

“I…”, you looked down before revealing your cards, “I could ask you the same question.”, you glued your gaze to his as a huge grin spread across your face.

Three aces. You won.

“Motherfucker…”, he hissed while exhaling the smoke.

While you pulled the chips towards you the demons gathered around you loudly expressed their emotions. Some cursed, some cheered, but it mattered little to you.

Your opponent felt a tap on the shoulder. A woman handed him a glass of demonus and ruffled his hair.

“Lost to Mammon’s girl again?”, she laughed, “You should’ve known better.”

Happy with your earnings for the night, you left the table and headed towards the bar. When close enough to Mammon, your hands found their way around his neck. You leaned in close, your lips almost touching, breathing heavily, tension thick enough you could cut it with a knife.

“Tell me…”, you bit your lip, “Did you manage?”, your eyes full of desire.

“Yeah, baby, let’s get outta here.”, his smirk made your knees weak.

After you cashed in your gains, both of you got into Mammon’s car and the moment the door closed, you started laughing, no longer being able to contain it.

“Fucking hell, I can’t believe how dumb they are!”

You turned around to face the blue-eyed demon and cupped his cheeks, pulling him in to kiss him forcefully. Your hands knew no boundaries and travelled across his entire body, sneaking under clothes to feel his warm skin, grabbing with unsatiated hunger while your nails dug into his soft flesh. He was far from shy as well, high on the smell of money and one too many glasses of demonus. One of his hands rested on the back of your head, tangled into your hair a bit too tight, as if to make sure you weren’t going anywhere, while the other curiously explored your body, travelling from your waist to your ass and your thighs, making its way under your dress.

When you broke off the kiss, a strig of saliva still connected your mouths. Panting, you smirked and dragged your nails across his ribs.

“Let’s get out of here.”, you suggested.

“You wanna go home already?”, he seemed confused.

“No, silly. Let’s get a hotel room, see how much we made.”

Mammon seemed to like the idea, speeding up after planting a kiss on your lips one last time.

It was overwhelming. The cold wind blowing your hair around from the parted window, Mammon’s hand on your thigh occasionally squeezing and the thrill of accomplishing your plan.

Soon enough you got pulled up to a hotel and rushed into the room, unbearable to wait a second longer. You threw your heels on the floor quickly and opened up your purse to let a wave of grimm flow onto the bed.

Grinning, you turned to face Mammon who pulled around six wallets, three watches and a few pieces of jewellery from his pockets.

“Fuck, I can’t believe this worked…”, you finally broke the spell.

“Oh, of course it worked. You put on quite a nice show, princess. With your plan and my skills, it couldn’t go any other way.”

He emptied the contents of the wallets onto the bed.

It was your idea, actually. Mammon played first. You made quite a scene after he lost all his money and demanded that he backs off for the night. Instead, you asked he let you play a few games before you leave. He complied. You tried your best to make the matches entertaining and attract as much attention as you could. When people gathered around, Mammon used the opening to empty their pockets. It was all premeditated and you couldn’t believe you actually pulled it off.

“Do ya wanna count them?”, he asked.

As a response, you pushed him onto the grimm-filled bed and began to kiss his neck.

“Fuck…”, he hissed in surprise.

You loved being on top, having control over him, making him squirm under you and enjoying his every reaction. However, tonight, you wanted him to completely take over you. All you needed to do was to bring him to his breaking point.

Without hesitation, you reached for his jeans, unbuttoning them pulling them off along with his boxers.

“Shit, someone’s eager.”

“Mmm, you bet I am.”

You began to sloppily lick along his shaft, making sure it’s nice and wet before taking all of his length down your throat in one go.

“F-fuck, gimmie a warning first.”

You raised your head, drool dripping from your mouth, and looked into his ocean eyes.

“Gotta serve my king well, right?”

After a quick smile, you resumed to pleasuring your favourite demon. This time, slower, rolling your tongue around his tip and using a hand to stroke the rest.

“Shit…”, he breathed out, “You’re perfect.”

His hand found its way into your hair, pushing and pulling, controlling the pace. At this point it was less of a blowjob and more of a facefuck. Drool kept dripping from your lips and filled the room of wet, sloppy sounds. You couldn’t help but moan as he used your mouth. Mammon’s free hand bunched up the sheets and along with it a bunch of bills. That was probably the last drop for him cause he pulled onto your hair and freed your mouth. As if you weighted nothing, he switched the positions, pulling you under him before beginning to undress you. Your dress hit the floor and so did your panties.

His eyes were full of desire as he grabbed your waist and pulled you into a kiss. In the process, a bunch of grimm ended up on your stomach. When Mammon broke the kiss and leaned back his cock twitched when faced with the view.

Between your legs, his hand began to play with your wet folds, making you arch your back.

“You’re my most prized possession. Fuck, it’s like you were made for me…”

His fingers entered you, moving inside, hitting just the right spots. Your hips gained a mind of their own and moved without you even thinking about it.

“Doncha think so, y/n? That ya belong to me…”

His lips fell onto your neck before you even had a chance to reply. His teeth sank into your flesh, marking you as his own in yet another way.

When his thumb traced circles on your clit, a cry escaped your lips and you knew you reached your breaking point.

“Mammon if you don’t fuck me right this second…”

“You’ll what? Whine?”

“Fuck, please…”

Without another exchange, he flipped you around, turning you on your stomach before aligning himself to your entrance.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, y/n”

That was the last thing you heard before your head was pushed into a pile of grimm while his cock slowly entered you.

“Don’t fucking be gentle!”, you warned him, “Be as rough as you can.”

“You’ll break”, he chuckled.

“Good.”

He grabbed your hands by the wrist and pinned them to your back, so you had no choice but to sit there and take it. Mammon’s movements became rougher and faster while your moans became louder.

“You’re taking me so well, fuck…”

You weren’t half as coherent. You could only alternate between “Mammon” and “Fuck”. His free hand reached between your legs and rubbed against your clit in an attempt to relive all the built up tension. Your legs started to shake and your walls spasmed around his cock as you came undone. The demon did not slow down at all. Instead, his grip on your wrists became tighter and his thrusts deeper, chasing his own release. Soon enough, he spilled inside of you with a loud groan before falling onto his back next to you.

Still in a daze, you were a bit shocked when Mammon pulled you into an embrace and kissed the top of your head.

“Ya know… With your cash, there must be like a hundred thousand grimm here.”, he turned to face you, “How about we clean up and spend them all?”

Tomorrow you were bound to get back to the house of lamentation at some point. You’d have to do your homework, cook dinner as it was your turn and help Lucifer with a few documents. Basically, you had to take care of your responsibilities and be a good girl. So, of course, you nodded. Mammon was going to spend all the money regardless, so you took the chance to go wild and he was the only one you could go wild with. Your first demon, in every sense of the word. The only one who knew about the darkness in your soul and cherished it. He was both your chaos and your anchor. Your temptation and your guardian. Your sin and your virtue. He was yours, your Mammon.

#obey me!#shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me mammon #mammon x reader #shall we date mammon #obey me! mammon #mammon x mc #smut #the smuttier the better #obey me smut

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organabanana · 3 years

Photo

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supergirl Rating: T Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alex Danvers/Kelly Olsen Characters: Alex Danvers, Kelly Olsen (Supergirl TV 2015) Additional Tags: implied supercorp dumbery, alex's malfunctioning gaydar, strap-on talk, Domestic Fluff Summary: Alex and Kelly discuss sapphic culture, watch a movie, consider strap-ons, and make the most of same-day delivery. I could pretend there's a plot here but honestly it's just domestic fluff for a cute little prompt. Notes: Written for the prompt "Imagine Me & You" for the Pride theme at @femslashexchange. First time writing Dansen so I hope you'll enjoy!

[ao3 link]

“Stop staring at me like that! I thought you people were supposed to be non-judgmental.”

If Kelly takes issue with Alex’s tone when referring to psychologists as ‘you people’, she certainly doesn’t show it. She just keeps staring, body turned to face Alex’s on the couch and palms neatly resting on her knees like she’s trying to keep her composure in the face of an unhinged patient or something.

Which is, if you ask Alex, an overreaction.

“We are. I wouldn’t say I’m judging you per se, it’s just—“ Kelly presses her lips together for a moment, clearly trying to come up with non-judgmental words to convey her very judgmental (Alex can read it all over her face) thoughts. “It’s just— you’ve really never—“

“Never.” Alex shrugs, like it’s no big deal. Actually, you know what? She shrugs because it’s no big deal.

“But you’ve… I mean, at least you must be familiar with it? Word of mouth, if nothing else?”

Alex contemplates for a moment, lips pursed slightly as she looks up like she’s expecting to find some kind of cue card on the ceiling of their apartment.

“Not really?” she finally decides, after a few moments of soul-searching, “I don’t really— I mean I know it’s uh… lesbian adjacent?” Alex illustrates how unsure she is about that particular statement with a swishy hand motion, but it clearly does nothing to impress her girlfriend.

“Lesbian adjac— Alex!” Kelly’s eyes widen as she finally loses all semblance of professional poker face (not that she’d been doing a great job before, mind you) and lets out an incredulous chuckle. “It’s not lesbian adjacent, it’s— it’s a cornerstone of sapphic culture!”

“Oh come on, Kel!” It’s Alex’s turn to laugh now, more than a little bit charmed by just how passionate her otherwise very rational girlfriend seems to be about something as silly as this. “It’s so not a cornerstone of sapphic anything. Strap-ons? Sure, I could see that. Some dumb—“

“Do not finish that sent— wait, did you just say strap-ons?”

Alex shrugs. She said what she said. She’s also acutely aware of the very visible (and oh, so very pretty) glow on her girlfriend’s cheeks, no matter how hard Kelly tries to look unaffected.

“Anyway,” Kelly shakes her head just so, and Alex could not possibly be any more enamored by the way she clears her throat and shifts on her seat, “as I was saying, I’m surprised a lesbian over thirty has never seen Imagine Me & You, that’s all.”

“Eh. I’m not much for rom-coms. Can we go back to strap-ons for a minute, though? I feel like there’s a conversation to be had there.”

Alex can see the struggle right there in Kelly’s eyes. Will Kelly Olsen drop an argument, mild as this particular one may be, before it’s been thoroughly resolved? Will she give in to the heat Alex can nearly feel radiating off her cheeks and talk about sex toys instead?

“Would you wear it, or would I?” Alex asks, choosing to give her girlfriend a small nudge in the (obvious, if you ask her) right direction.

“You don’t like romantic comedies?” Kelly says at exactly the same time, looking at Alex like she’s suddenly sprouted a second head.

Alex groans, throwing her head back against the couch in such despair she nearly doesn’t hear Kelly’s next words.

“You. I think?”

Oh.

Alex is once again fully engaged with the conversation, licking her lips as she straightens her back and turns to focus on her girlfriend. “Yeah?” Alex can feel heat rising to her own cheeks now, oddly flattered by Kelly’s choice. “You think?”

There’s a certain warmth to Kelly’s smile when she looks into Alex’s eyes. The kind of warmth that lets Alex know Kelly has somehow read her thoughts and understood them, likely better than Alex herself. “I think you could pull it off, yes,” she says, long fingers wrapping around Alex’s and tugging lightly to encourage her to get a little closer.

Alex would love to be the kind of woman who can keep this back and forth of flirty banter going for a while. She’d love to be the kind of woman who can tease and flirt and play the part of the cool lesbian who knows she’s hot stuff. But the thing is, Kelly is just so beautiful. She’s soft and warm and she thinks Alex could pull off a strap-on and she’s practically begging for a kiss (which Alex immediately gives her, of course, she’s not a monster), and how could Alex possibly resist?

How could anyone, really?

Those cool lesbians simply have never had Kelly Olsen’s bedroom eyes directed at them.

“Wanna go on-line shopping?” Alex whispers between the second kiss and the third, grinning when Kelly’s fingers slide into her hair, “I bet they have same-day delivery.”

Kelly chuckles, light and sweet against Alex’s lips and fully obliterating whatever crumbs of coolness Alex may have had left. “In a rush, are we?”

“Lil bit, yeah,” Alex freely admits, a bit too taken with the way Kelly smiles at her to care if she’s proving once again she’s not the coolest where her girlfriend is involved. But, again — how could anyone resist? Kelly shifts on the couch, smoothly readjusting their position until she’s on her back with Alex on top of her, and Alex is pretty sure she’s peaked. Life simply doesn’t get any better than this.

(Alex has thought she’s peaked, on average, around twice a day since she started dating Kelly. Don’t you dare judge her.)

Kelly’s neck smells faintly of lavender when Alex trails kisses up warm skin towards the spot right behind Kelly’s ear.

“Soap thief,” she whispers, teeth gently nipping and making Kelly let out a sound that falls somewhere between a laugh and a gasp, “for shame.”

Kelly doesn’t answer right away. She lets Alex bask in the feeling of having the upper hand for a few seconds, slips her own hands under Alex’s shirt to grab at the solid muscles on her back, spreads her legs so Alex’s thigh can slot between them… and then she speaks.

“Will your cock be lavender too?”

Alex makes a sound. Unfortunately, because it’s neither sexy nor dignified. She sputters, really. Nearly chokes on her own breath. In her defense… well, honestly, she doesn’t think she needs a defense. Who wouldn’t be disarmed by her girlfriend, all warm and soft and rocking against her thigh with purpose, suddenly bringing up lavender cocks?

Come on now.

“W— would you like it lavender?” Alex manages to ask, voice slightly higher than normal as she pushes herself up on her hands to look into Kelly’s eyes. And maybe also to shift her weight onto her knee, her thigh pressing a little harder between Kelly’s legs. “Do you want it lavender?”

“Baby,” Kelly sighs and arches her back just slightly — just enough to make the column of her neck impossible to resist, so Alex presses an open-mouthed kiss to Kelly’s throat and feels the words vibrate against her lips as they come out, “I want it yours.”

***

Alex’s brain doesn’t fully recover until nearly two hours later, when she’s sitting at her desk staring at the tracking website for the package they will be receiving at some point within that same day.

Technology, right? What a wonderful thing.

“Are you still watching that?” Kelly’s tone is teasing as she walks out of the bathroom brushing her fingers through her freshly washed, still wet hair. “Are you expecting it to just teleport here by sheer force of will?”

Alex shrugs. She’s familiar enough with Martian tech to hold out hope for that happening. And honestly, considering the requests Kelly made regarding size while choosing the (lavender, yes) toy, Alex is pretty sure not even staring unblinkingly at her screen fully qualifies her as the most eager person in the room.

“You know it won’t be here for at least a couple hours,” Kelly insists, “but I know just how we could fill the time.”

It’s like a switch has been flipped. One second Alex is staring at the screen, and the next she’s pretty much forgotten there’s a package to receive. Alex wouldn’t call the look on Kelly’s eyes flirty, exactly, but it’s certainly something. Playful, maybe. Is playful better than flirty?

Alex is oh-so-ready to find out.

“Yeah?” Alex says, already on her feet and moving towards Kelly.

Kelly nods, eyes practically sparkling as she sits on the couch once again.

And Alex, of course, follows her.

Who wouldn’t?

Kelly kisses her first. Something short and sweet that leaves Alex smiling and hoping for a reprise. But instead, Kelly speaks.

“We can watch Imagine Me & You.”

Alex groans, and she’d be lying if she said there isn’t at least a bit of dramatic flair involved in the intensity of her despair. “Kelly! I told you I don’t like romcoms!”

“But you love romance!” Kelly motions in the general direction of the shelf that’s nearly overflowing with little mementos of their life together. A box full of movie theater tickets, a dried flower from the first time they celebrated Valentine’s day, the cork from the first bottle of wine they drank in their home… and the collection is very much maintained (and steadily grown) by Alex. “How can you not like romantic comedies? They should be right up your alley.”

“I like real romance. Not… fake, decaf romance.”

And it’s not a controversial statement, Alex thinks. It’s pretty much common sense. There’s real life, and then there’s movies. There’s real romance — the kind that makes her laugh and cry and get butterflies in her stomach — and then there’s Hollywood’s version of romance, which feels hollow most of the time. Everyone knows that, right?

So why is Kelly looking at her like she’s just cracked some kind of code?

“What? Stop being creepy. I liked it better when you were judging me earlier.”

“But you like big dramatic romance movies,” Kelly prods, “right?”

“Well, sure, but that’s different.”

“Because…” Kelly nods encouragingly.

“I don’t know, Kel. I guess because rom-coms are just kinda…” Alex sighs, “I don’t know.”

“Insubstantial?” Kelly offers, “hard to engage with beyond mindless entertainment? Alienating, even, in a way?”

“Right!” Freaking finally, Kelly gets it. Alex isn’t weird. This is a universal phenomenon, obviously. “Exactly! Exactly that.”

“Honey,” Kelly pats the back of Alex’s hand affectionately, voice down to just barely above a whisper, “that’s ‘cause you’re gay.”

Alex scoffs, somewhere between amused and outraged. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

Kelly’s eyes narrow just slightly. There’s a glint to them that Alex knows very well. It’s the look Kelly gets when she knows she’s right.

“Tell you what,” Kelly says, leaning over to grab the remote from the coffee table and then leaning against Alex’s side as she turns on the tv, “you watch this one movie with me, indulge my scientific curiosity, and if you haven’t changed your mind by the end I’ll drop the subject forever.”

It’s not a bad offer. Alex purses her lips and pretends to think about it very seriously anyway, just because it’s one thing to be thoroughly whipped when it comes to her girlfriend, but it’s a whole different story to not even try to pretend she can put her foot down once in a while.

Besides, she loves the way Kelly’s face lights up when Alex finally (inevitably) says yes.

“Okay, fine,” Alex sighs just to offset the sheer size of her heart eyes when Kelly does, in fact, light up, “one movie.”

Kelly practically flies through their streaming options, clearly more than familiar with the location of Imagine Me & You. And there are so many questions Alex could ask. So many ways she could poke fun at her girlfriend for what’s clearly a bit of a fangirly obsession. But right when Kelly presses play, Alex notices something that pulls her attention in an entirely different direction.

“Piper Perabo! Oh, I love her,” she sighs, wrapping an arm around Kelly’s shoulders as her girlfriend snuggles into her preferred movie-watching position, “I watched Coyote Ugly a million times as a teen. My mom ended up getting me the DVD so I’d stop renting it every single week.”

Kelly chuckles lightly, draping one arm across Alex’s waist. “And that didn’t give you any hints that you might have been a bit gay?”

Alex shrugs. Whether she’d been really oblivious or just in denial, she’s at a point in her life and her journey now where she can make a bit of fun of her teenage self. “What can I say? My gaydar’s never been the most finely tuned.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Just look at the Kara thing.”

“The what now?” Alex looks away from the screen to stare at Kelly instead. As far as she’s aware — and she’s a very observant vigilante, mind you — there’s no such thing as ‘the Kara thing’, whatever that means. And what would that have to do with her (lack of a) gaydar, anyway? “What Kara thing?”

“Nothing,” Kelly points at the screen, “watch the movie.”

“No, what did you me— is that Cersei Lannister?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s so good in this. I may have a bit of a crush.”

“On Cersei freaking Lannister, Kel?” Alex lets out an amused chuckle. “I’m honestly not sure how I feel about that.”

“Will you please just watch the movie?”

“Fine, fine, sheesh,” Alex moves her hand down Kelly’s side just to gently poke at a particularly ticklish spot, “but I can’t promise I won’t be too freaked out about Cersei to fully focus.”

But there’s Piper Perabo in a beautiful wedding dress flashing a beautiful smile, and really, not even Cersei Lannister being on the receiving end of that smile can stop Alex from getting sucked into the movie and what’s happening in it.

She watches a ring fall into a punch bowl and exchanged looks and smiles. She hears, much to her surprise, unspoken lines between Piper Perabo and Cersei Lannister that make her smile at the screen because yeah— yeah, she’s been there. She’s smiled like that. She’s felt like that. She’s so enthralled by the movie that it’s only when she feels herself laugh at Cersei’s friend calling herself ecstatic that she realizes she’s been quiet for a while.

“Ok, that was funny. Most rom-coms aren’t even really coms.”

“You’re enjoying this,” Kelly says, her voice full of teasing glee.

Alex feels color rise to her cheeks. “Will you please just watch the movie?”

Kelly doesn’t argue this time.

There’s a science presentation in the dark, pinky fingers nearly touching, a very questionable choice at the movie rental place — “oh, no, you don’t want to learn from Georgie’s Bush” — and then there’s a date.

Alex feels Kelly hold her a little tighter when Rachel asks Luce — who cares about Cersei Lannister, anyway? — to put both her arms around her, and she feels herself smile like a fool when the lily’s meaning is shared. And then. Then there’s almost a kiss, but not quite, and Rachel barging into the flower shop, and Alex is fully invested now. There’s simply no turning back.

“Oh! Oh, no, Rachel, it can’t be over!” She says out loud, because this poor conflicted woman clearly needs advice. “Don’t leave her— oh, she’s back!”

Alex has seen so many on-screen kisses. So many.

She’s watched hundreds of love stories, from cartoons to dark thrillers and everything in between. She’s been having regular movie nights with Kara since she was a teenager, and most times the chosen movie has at least one romantic storyline, if not several.

But this.

This lands somewhere deep inside her chest. And when the kiss ends because Luce has thorns in her bum, Alex realizes there are tears running down her face.

“You all right, baby?” Kelly shifts to press a kiss to Alex’s cheek, catching a tear with her lips.

“Uh huh,” Alex nods. And then she stops nodding. She even stops holding Kelly, because she needs both hands to cover her eyes. “Oh, God. Oh, not him. I can’t watch this.”

But she does anyway. Through the spaces between her fingers at first, and then fully because one of her hands is covering her mouth now, the other holding Kelly once again.

“Don’t tell her to go!” She says, voice watery and just a little shaky as she struggles to keep herself together. But it lasts only as long as it takes for Luce to ask Rachel to remember her, because, “she won’t—“ Alex hiccups, “she won’t remember anything else, Kel.”

“I know, honey.”

Alex nods. She’s crying now. Really crying. Watching Rachel tell her sleeping husband doesn’t help, and neither does her conversation with her parents — though it does pull a watery chuckle out of Alex — or Luce’s talk to her mom. She’s still crying when people pile into a car and start chasing Luce’s cab, because she knows this is going to have a happy ending. Right? That’s the beauty of romantic comedies.

“Oh, the song!” She stage whispers, pointing at the screen when the cyclist rides past the car, and then gasps when Rachel climbs onto the roof of the car. “She’s gonna do it, isn’t she? She’s gonna call number nine a wanker for her lady?”

“A bit cheesy, huh?”

Alex’s eyes widen in utter disbelief. “Cheesy?” She tears her eyes away from the screen once that last kiss is over just to shoot Kelly an indignant look. “How dare you.”

Kelly chuckles, something soft and quiet as she rearranges herself on the couch to free her hands so she can help wipe tears from Alex’s face. “So? What did you think?”

Alex sniffles. She’s not quite done crying yet, but she can still try and maintain at least a crumb of dignity after spectacularly losing this particular argument. “All right,” she concedes, shrugging one shoulder like she’s not at all still a bit weepy over Piper Perabo getting her girl, “it was okay.”

“Yeah?” Kelly reaches for the tissue box on the coffee table and holds it so Alex can take one (or five).

“It wasn’t awful,” Alex says, blowing her nose, and then contemplates simply leaving it at that. But she can’t help herself. “Can we watch more?”

Kelly grins. “More romantic comedies?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” Kelly echoes, pressing a lingering kiss to Alex’s lips, “we can start a bit of a sapphic movie night tradition. We can ask Kara and Lena to join in.”

Well, that’s weird. Don’t get her wrong, Alex loves her sister and Lena and watching movies together, but she’s not following Kelly’s leap from sapphic cinema to them. And her confusion must be written all over her face, because Kelly explains even before Alex can ask.

“You know. To expand their film horizons.” There’s something in Kelly’s tone that makes Alex feel like there’s more to it than that, but she’s a bit busy dealing with her post-movie emotions to investigate. “Besides, Lena always brings amazing wine when we have them over.”

Alex is about to agree — Lena does have excellent taste in wine — but the doorbell distracts her before she can.

The doorbell.

Same-day delivery.

“Oh, it’s here!” Kelly practically leaps to her feet, pressing the button to let the delivery person in and standing by the door to wait for them to make their way upstairs.

“Dammit, Kel. Look at me,” Alex sniffles and grabs a handful of tissues to try and fully dry her face, “how am I supposed to — and I quote — ‘fuck you into the mattress’ like this?”

Kelly winks at her just as the doorbell rings. “Trust me, baby. I’ll help you with that.”

And you know what? Alex has no reason to doubt that she will.

#dansen #dansen fic #supergirl fanfic #alex danvers #kelly olsen #fic

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jeonggukingdom · 4 years

Text

longing in tokyo (m)

pairing ⟶ namjoon x fem!Reader

synopsis ⟶ It has been just two weeks. Two bloody weeks of nothing but text messages and phone calls and, quite frankly, Namjoon can’t simply take it anymore. He needs you. And it’s exactly that firing desire that prompts him to call you in the middle of the night in the hopes of quenching his unyielding desire for you once and for all.

genre ⟶ smut rating ⟶ 18+

word count ⟶ 5.407 words

warnings ⟶ graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, masturbation, voyeurism, skype sex, dirty talk, namjoon calling you ‘baby girl’, excessive amount of cum, namjoon being quite the loud one because I have impulse issues.

author’s note ⟶ this fic has been written for the “Bulletproof Bingo” project created by @ficswithluv! You can find the card I received here (click!) but to make things more fun and keep the surprise I blurred out all the songs except for the five songs in the same row that I’m going to write first ;)

song title ⟶ Tokyo - RM [ lyrics that inspired the story: “Homesick babe, I just wanna, Stay right next to you, If I could choose my dream, I just wanna, Stay right next to you” ]

tag list ⟶ @heroesfan101

The city stretches before him in stunning colourful lights shining like stars under the night sky.

Skyscrapers upon skyscrapers surround him but it’s a rather beautiful sight at this time of day when the sun is long set but everything seems to still be lit up by it.

A city that never sleeps, a city that seems to grow right under your eyes, expand a little bit more with every single one of your heartbeats, an ever-changing city full of possibilities, surprises, memories to build and everything in between.

Tokyo.

There is just one thing this city can’t offer him and that happens to be the very thing he needs the most: you.

A deep sigh escapes his lips, his eyes closing as his body relaxes onto the little couch placed right in front of the huge window.

His thoughts inevitably drift towards you every time he allows himself to stop and rest.

He can almost hear your excited voice as you enter the room, he can almost see the stars shining bright in your eyes as you stare out the window, he can almost feel your hand tightly wrapped around his as you force him to go with you around the city despite the fact that he’s beyond tired.

A small smile stretches on his lips at that last thought. He would grumble, for sure, he would try to convince you to stay in, watch a movie or just chill together in your bed but in the end, he’d be walking right beside you in the busy streets, he’d be taking silly pictures with you in front of beautiful sceneries, he’d be tasting delicious food with you from random restaurants or street vendors.

He opens his eyes, pulls himself out of his waking dream and chooses to drown his bitterness in the glass of scotch in his right hand. Alas, dreams and fantasies, that’s all they are and he really should not be indulging in them, especially not at this hour of the night.

His body feels sore after the long day at work spent either stuck in a car or sitting down in an office and he can feel a dull ache starting to spread from the base of his sculpt up to his forehead and he should really stop drinking now and just go to sleep but he simply cannot.

No matter how hard he tries, tonight it just doesn’t work.

He misses you. Misses the sound of your voice, misses the tender smile on your beautiful lips, misses your shining eyes, misses the sensation of your body under his fingertips, misses the way you arch your back beneath him when he is making love to you, misses all the pretty whimpers that leave your lips in ecstasy whenever he hits that perfect spot, misses the way you quiver and call his name when you reach your high.

Damn.

It has been just two weeks.

Two bloody weeks of nothing but text messages and phone calls and, quite frankly, Namjoon can’t simply take it anymore.

Maybe it’s that insane desire and endless need that prompts his hands to grasp his laptop, turn it on and place it on the table in front of him or maybe it’s just the alcohol driving him his every movement.

The clock on the screen informs him that it’s past two in the morning and that should suffice to deter him, to pull him back from this love-drunk—or maybe actually drunk—state he is in but it doesn’t.

His fingers move before he can even consider stopping them—not that he really would, honestly—and then, he is calling you.

He is sitting there in front of the screen, sipping on the remnant of his scotch with his heart beating hard against his ribcage as if he were an adolescent about to ask the girl he likes out for a date and not your fiancée calling you because he misses every single thing about you.

The empty glass hits the table and he closes his eyes once more, tilts his head back against the edge of the couch and just waits.

You rest your chin on your knees, your lips slightly protruding forward in a little pout as you stare out your window, your gaze focused on the few people walking down the streets at this ungodly hour.

You can almost hear the loud talks, the waves of laughter, the drunken slurs of those coming out of clubs or dinner with colleagues and on any other night you’d be smiling at them, shaking your head as you catch some of their words in the silence of your apartment.

People-gazing, as you call it, is one of your favourite activities to indulge in during nights when sleep escapes you and other people’s lives seem just all that much more interesting than your own.

A little sigh escapes your lips as you shake your head. Tonight, not even making up lives and stories for those strangers down the streets seems to be working on the melancholy trapping your heart in a tight grasp.

Your eyes drift away from the world outside, fix on the laptop on the couch and the picture in the background: a photo of you and Namjoon, smiling happily towards the camera with ice-cream melting in your hands and on your lips.

A small smile graces your lips then but inside your heart, you ache a little more.

The yearning for him is almost unbearable tonight and you do feel guilty about this need to have him next to you, to feel his hands and arms tightly wrapped around you at all times.

Namjoon is a businessman and you should be accustomed to his absence by now but, alas, you aren’t and a part of you suspects you never will.

You are good at pretending, at putting a happy smile on your lips to reassure him that you are fine, that you can do well even when he’s not right there next to you but it’s not always the truth.

On most nights, you can’t even fall asleep properly without him by your side, without his scent enveloping you whole, without his warmth surrounding you.

You hug yourself tighter as a deep shiver runs down your spine, goosebumps gathering on your flesh as a cold breath of wind caresses your naked legs.

Your eyes drift away from the happy picture and fix on the open window instead. You can almost hear him, if you concentrate hard enough, yelling at you to close the damn window before you catch something and join him under the warmth of the covers.

The thought makes you smile but it is a bitter one.

God.

It’s been two weeks, just two weeks and yet you’ve never missed him quite this hard, you have never yearned for him quite this much.

You count down the seconds, the minutes, the hours that pass between each text, each phone call.

It feels like you are living your life on hold, just waiting for the crumbs he can throw your way to keep you going through the days until his return.

You lift yourself up, at last, close the window and then let yourself fall back on the ground once more with the pout getting deeper on your lips.

Tonight feels like one of those endless nights where sleep just refuses to come your way and claim you and every second seems to last an entire hour.

It’s when yet another sigh of frustration leaves your mouth that your laptop chimes, the familiar tune from Skype’s videocall snapping you out of your thoughts.

Your brows furrow as you slowly lift yourself up to fix your eyes on the screen. Who in the world would be calling you at two in the morning?

Namjoon.

Your heart throbs against your ribcage in an instant, your lips parting in surprise as you eagerly accept the call, your eyes fixed on the screen to catch even the smallest glimpse of him inside his hotel room.

Namjoon is right there, sitting on what looks to be a little couch with his head tilted back, his lips parted and his eyes closed.

His body looks relaxed, his legs open in what you would consider an invitation if he were standing right in front of you in the flesh and not inside a screen.

“Joon?” Your voice sounds small to your own ears, certainly full of all the uncertainty you feel but, judging by the way his body immediately tenses, you know he’s heard you loud and clear.

His eyes are on you in an instant, embarrassment written all over his features as he takes in the sight of you completely.

“Baby girl.” His voice is hoarse and deep and, mixed with the endearing nickname, it easily turns your blood into liquid fire, makes your insides boil and turns your cheeks aflame—all of which he must be aware of judging by the little smirk that graces his plump lips.

“I didn’t think you’d actually be awake. Can’t sleep?”

You nod your head a couple of times as your eyes linger on him, on every little detail of his features, on his body still trapped inside his elegant work clothes.

“What about you? Just got back from work?”

Namjoon heaves out a sigh, closes his eyes for a second before moving forward to rest his elbows on his thighs and take an even better look at you.

“Yeah, we closed our contract today and the guys felt like having some fun so we went out for dinner.”

You hum in understanding as you hug your knees to your chest once more, slightly rocking forward as you keep staring at his face. He is as handsome as ever but you can’t ignore the dark lines under his eyes or the bitter twist of his lips. Something is bothering him.

Before you can voice out any of your concerns, though, he speaks again.

“What’s keeping you up? People-gazing?”

You chuckle at the way the word sounds on his lips and your heart flutters as you watch him smile inside the screen, his eyes warm with love and… longing. The same type of longing that has you still awake, staring outside your window.

“Sort of,” you settle on replying as you force your eyes to drift away from his face and rather focus on the night sky out of your window, on its soothing effects on your melancholic heart.

“You look tired, Joon,” you say after a while and your lips turn downward as you hear him sigh, shuffle on his seat and you can almost picture the way he is massaging his temples, his eyes fixed on the ground and his bottom lip trapped under his teeth.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No,” his voice trails off, another long sigh moves past your lips and your eyes fix back on the screen to take in the pained expression on his features, “I keep thinking about you… the view from my window is stunning, you’d love it.”

He sounds sad, so impossibly sad it almost brings tears to your eyes. You miss him and by the look of things, he misses you quite as much, if not even more.

“Let me show you,” he says, lifting himself up and bringing his laptop with him to the window. In an instant the scenery before you switches from his lovely face to the stunning colourful lights outside, dancing in the night like neon fireflies.

It’s breathtaking.

“I knew you’d love it,” he whispers into the speaker and the heat on your cheeks intensifies, a little chuckle moving past your mouth as you nod towards the camera.

“I do. It’s so beautiful.”

“Yeah… but it can’t compete with you.”

Lame and corny as a line but damn, does it tug on your heartstrings the right way, damn does it make that stupid heart of yours beat faster in your chest, damn does it make your longing for him even deeper.

“Joon!”

He laughs at himself, at your expression reflected on his screen, at the absurdity of all of this—whatever it may be.

“I think I’m a little drunk,” he admits with another laugh and you can’t help but join him while shaking your head as he occupies the screen again, back on his couch.

You shift in your seat, hug your legs to your chest tighter and rest your chin on your knees as you stare at him, your fingers grasping each other to prevent you from reaching out and caress the screen like you would to touch his skin if he wasn’t seven hundred miles away from you tonight.

“Baby girl…is that my shirt?” He asks all of a sudden and you hide your face between your legs in embarrassment. Damn, you really hoped he wouldn’t notice.

This is one of your little secrets, one of those that don’t hurt anybody but that makes you feel shameful enough to still keep it hidden and close to your heart for extra protection.

“It is… I always sleep in your shirts when you’re not here. It helps me fall asleep.”

You do not tell him that it feels like he is embracing you if you concentrate hard enough, you do not tell him that sometimes you even wear his shirts outside to work just because it makes you feel like he’s still with you during the day. You do not tell him that sometimes you just walk inside your bedroom and spray some of his perfume around the house or on your pillow just to feel him closer.

You do not tell him any of that but somehow, it feels like in the silence that lingers between the two of you, you just did.

“Baby girl.”

“Mh?”

“I miss you so damn much. All of you.” His voice is low again, barely above a whisper, and it sends shivers up and down your spine, makes your insides twitch and the yearning for him grow stronger and stronger, so much so it is almost painful, “Damn, I really wish I could kiss you right now.”

You close your eyes, slightly part your lips as you imagine the sensation of his mouth on yours, the way his hands would embrace you, pull you towards him so that your bodies can touch, relish in each other’s warmth.

“I miss hugging you, touching you…” His voice trails off as you visibly shiver in front of the camera, your tongue wetting your lips as you slowly open your eyes once more.

You can’t take this anymore.

“I miss the way your hands feel on me,” you confess, your voice thick with love, yearning, desire and everything in between.

You wish you could run your fingers through his blonde hair, tug on the loose locks until he groans and tilts his head back to offer you his neck. You wish you could kiss and bite that soft expanse of flesh, mark it for everyone to see and then slowly inch down to his chest, the fine line of his abs, the happy trail of hair right under his navel that leads to the treasure right between his legs.

“What are you thinking about?” He rasps out and your eyes snap open, fix on the screen and on his dark gaze, his parted lips as he stares at you in that way that has you always squirming before him in anticipation for what he is going to do to you.

“You.”

You bite your bottom lip, tilt your head a little to the side to watch him better under your lashes as you let go of your legs, arch your back a little just so he can properly take in your figure inside his buttoned-up white shirt.

You wonder if he can see your turgid nipples peeking through the soft fabric even in the dim light surrounding you, you wonder if he can tell exactly how much riled up you are just at the thought of him touching you, kissing you, ruining you.

You let out a soft grunt of frustration as you tug on the shirt, let a few buttons fly open for him to take a peek at your chest.

“Kissing me everywhere,” you continue, your fingers trembling a little as you undo a few more buttons in front of his rapt eyes, “Touching me everywhere.”

“Fuck, you’re so sexy baby girl,” he hisses under his breath, his face inching closer to the screen so that he can see you even better as your fingers keep trailing down your shirt to open it up slowly, inch after inch before his eyes.

You can see the lust in his gaze even through the screen and in an instant you know, this is why he called. That deep unquenchable desire you felt in the pit of your own stomach all day, that yearning that has kept you awake to this hour, he feels it too.

You watch him get rid of his black jacket, toss it far away behind his back, in a portion of the room you cannot see through the screen.

You wet your lips, drink up the sight of his slack jaw as he stares at the way your chest rises with your heavy breaths, the way your hands caress your exposed skin, envelope your breasts to pull them together, the way your fingers tease the little turgid buds.

You hear his soft sighs laced with arousal as one of his hands flies between his legs to palm his growing erection in the confinement of his pants.

You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down with every new bold movement of your hands, with every new inch of skin you expose to the camera and you keep imagining kissing that beautiful neck, lick and bite the golden skin and make him whimper your name in the silence of his hotel room.

“If only I was there with you,” you mutter under your breath and he grunts in frustration, his fingers wrapping tighter around his shaft in a way that looks almost painful but that, nevertheless, makes the blood rush to the pit of your stomach in excitement.

“What would you do if you were?” He asks, his voice low and hoarse as he inches backwards to rest his back against the couch, spread his legs wider for you to be able to see the outline of his turgid cock underneath the black fabric of his pants.

You take in a sharp breath, your fingers inching away from your breasts to favour the supple curves of your legs, the barely concealed sex between them and the arousal growing right there soiling your pretty underwear.

Heat gathers on your cheeks as you part your lips, the words dancing on your tongue before you can stop them.

“I’d slowly kiss your neck, inch down towards your chest…” you trail off as your eyes close for a second to imagine how it would look like under your attentive gaze, how it would feel like, “I would undo your tie just enough to allow my fingers to unbutton your shirt, reveal your chest.”

You open your eyes then and watch him follow your fantasies to perfection, his eager fingers caressing his skin like you wish you could do.

He yanks his tie completely loose, leaves it around his neck as he keeps unbuttoning his shirt just like you did with yours and you can’t take your eyes off of the sight of him like this, stripping before you with not a single hint of hesitation.

“I’d go down on my knees next,” you whisper, breaking the silence as he unfastens the last button of his shirt.

His muscles tense underneath your gaze and you wickedly smile at that, at the way he seems to shiver a little just at the sound of your words.

He licks his plump lips, relaxes his neck against the couch even more as if abandoning himself to your desires completely.

“I’d pull down the zipper next,” you bite your bottom lip as you watch his trembling fingers reach his pants and follow your instructions.

A trembling breath leaves his parted lips then, relief morphs his features for an instant and then his brows are furrowing once more as he palms himself through the fabric of his underwear, the gesture sounding like a plea towards you.

“Show me how hard you are, please.”

He whines at your words, rolls his hips into his hand once, twice and then, he is manoeuvring his erection out of his boxer briefs.

The sigh of contentment that leaves his parted lips drives one of your hands right between your legs to palm your womanhood and tease the covered flesh until a soft whine erupts from your mouth.

His cock stands tall before you, head tinted an angry red and slightly wet with pre-cum. You lick your lips as you imagine its bitter taste filling your mouth and Namjoon grunts at the sight of you like this, at the way you arch your back a little more, at the way you rock against your hand as if it were his teasing you like this, discovering you like this.

“Now what, baby girl?” He asks in a breath and you gulp down heavily, fix your eyes right between his legs and damn, all you can think about is riding him until he has no choice but to scream your name for everyone in Tokyo to hear.

“Ugh, Joon!” You whine, your eyes almost filling with tears in frustration. Your deep desires don’t seem quenchable with just a stroke of your hands accompanied by the sound of his voice and breathy whines. You want him.

“Tell me, baby girl, tell me what you would do to me,” his voice is thick, his hand still around his cock as he stares at you, his eyes boring into you with curiosity and desire and how could you deny him when he is looking at you like this, eagerly waiting for every single one of your words?

“I would ride your big cock right on that little couch in front of the windows,” your words are strangled, followed by a whine of frustration as your fingers press against your clitoris, circle around the little bud atop your panties.

“Show me,” he breathes out, his fingers slowly pumping his length as he shudders at the pleasure and the fine picture you’ve planted in his mind, “Show me how you would ride me.”

You lick your lips, pull your gaze away from him just enough to fix it on your couch and the cushions sprawled on its surface.

Biting your bottom lip you reach for the sturdiest one and pull it right between your legs. Your thighs brush against the fabric as you sit right on top of the cushion and tentatively rock your hips forward once.

A little whimper immediately moves past your lips and you fix your eyes on the screen to catch him staring at you, his jaw slacked and his hand slowly moving around his shaft.

You lift yourself up just enough to help yourself out of the soiled panties and then, you come crashing back down, grunt a little as if it were his length welcoming you back where you belong and not the softness of the little cushion.

With your eyes fixed on the screen, you start rolling your hips forward, one of your hands teasing your breasts while the other keeps you perfectly balanced on the cushion as you become more confident, more eager to feel the pleasure engulfing you whole.

“You’d look so good on my cock, baby girl.”

You lick your lips, roll your hips faster against your cushion while imagining him deeply sheathed inside of you, battering your walls, stroking your cervix, making you see the stars.

You whimper his name as you watch the thick trail of saliva fall from his lovely mouth to the tip of his cock, you watch him with rapt eyes as he spreads it around his shaft and palms himself harder, strokes himself faster to match up the rhythm of your hips.

If you imagine it hard enough, you can almost feel him underneath you and just the thought makes your heart beat faster, turns your breath laboured and your limbs more eager to reach that peak with him.

But no matter what, the cushion is not quite enough to have you scream his name, to have your body quiver and your toes curling.

You leave your breasts in favour of the little bundle of nerves right above your slit, you start drawing little circles on top of it, pressing down with your digits enough to elicit small whines out of yourself.

You hear him hiss at the sight of you like this, touching yourself so shamelessly in front of the camera just for him to see. A little smirk draws on your lips at the lust reflected in his gaze, at the way he pumps himself harder, faster.

His little breaths and sighs, his little ‘yeahs’ of satisfaction, his deep grunts and huffs, they all rile you further, prompt you to roll your hips faster and faster until the burning sensation between your legs becomes almost unbearable.

You tilt your head to the side, fix your eyes on your fingers as they furiously draw circles on your clitoris and you moan loudly for him, the sound awfully similar to his name and, just as loud, he responds and twists before the camera, angling himself as if he were trying to plunge himself deep inside your pussy.

“Fuck, I’m so close baby girl,” he whines as his muscles start tensing, his hips jerking towards his hand in search of that bit more of friction that will throw him off the edge and give him what he so desperately craved for.

“Me-me too, ugh,” you gulp down, thrust harder against the soft cushion and then you feel the wave of pleasure run through your limbs like liquid fire. Your vision turns white, your body quivers helplessly on the floor, your toes curl and a lewd moan moves past your parted lips.

Your heart is beating frantically against your ribs, your breath stuck inside your lungs as you completely let go before his eager eyes.

The orgasm seems endless, it coils between your legs, soils not only the cushion but the carpet underneath your knees as well and when it subdues it leaves you breathless, dizzy with lingering ecstasy.

It’s his deep groan that makes you snap your eyes open, fix them on the screen once more as he jerks harder in front of the screen, as he palms his balls through the fabric of his pants for extra stimulation.

He calls your name over and over again, so loud there is no doubt someone is going to hear him and that brings heat to your cheeks and down between your legs once more.

You watch him come undone on his hand in long stripes of white that much like your own juices seem to keep on coming and coming until his fingers are covered and sticky and his pants are ruined beyond recognition.

His chest is heaving, his eyes tightly closed as he tries to keep that blissful sensation close just a little bit longer.

You softly call his name then, smile towards the camera as his eyes pry open to fix on your lovely face.

“That was amazing, baby girl,” he whispers before his eyes move to the mess he has made of himself. A chuckle leaves his lips then, his head shaking left and right as he tries to clean his hand against his pants.

“I wish I could lick it off of your fingers,” you let the words slip out of your mouth and chuckle at the way his eyes turn as big as saucers, at the way his mouth opens but no sound comes out, at the way he gulps down heavily and then, finally, groans.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters under his breath before wetting his lips with that tongue you wish you could have felt lapping your folds tonight.

“Clear your schedule for Saturday, baby girl.” He suddenly says prompting your brows to furrow in confusion.

“I have every intention of fucking you until neither of us can walk out of that damn bed as soon as I’m out of the plane.”

His words make you groan, prompt your hands to move between your legs once more and if you weren’t still sensitive you’d be touching yourself again right now, make yourself crumble before him once more and watch him get worked up all over again.

“Is that a promise?” You retort, a little teasing smile on your lips as you tilt your head to the side while spreading your legs wide for him just to taunt him a little bit further.

Every bit of shame you might have felt has long gone now and every single one of your desires is out, hanging right between the two of you.

“You can bet on it, baby girl.”

His hoarse voice makes you shiver, it gathers goosebumps on your feverish skin and it makes that deep yearning for him grow as intense as it was before his call. Will you be able to resist four more days without him, hanging on just the thought of him and his return and what he will do to you the moment his fingers can finally wrap nicely around your frame?

“Now, be a good girl until my return, mh?”

You bite your bottom lip, close your legs and draw your hands away from your core like the obedient little sub you usually are.

“I can’t wait to see you,” you murmur after a while. The lust has slowly subdued, suppressed by that melancholy that has kept you awake on most nights these past two weeks. It is not just the sex that you miss, no, you miss every little thing about him and by the way he looks at you, you know he yearns for you just as much.

“Just a few more days, my love.” His words are barely above a whisper, laced with the same emotions you feel deep inside your heart.

You hum in response as you slowly remove the cushion from between your legs. You ignore how sticky it feels, you ignore the lewd sound of the fabric as you shove it aside and then, you hug your legs back to your chest, rest your chin above your knees.

“You know I love you, right?” You say then, your head resting on your arms as you close your eyes for a second, fatigue finally taking over your body and mind.

Namjoon hums softly in response, his eyes tender as he takes in the peaceful expression on your features. His body finally relaxes as he watches you slowly drift away from him and enter the dreamland.

He watches you for minutes, slowly undressing himself and tossing everything on the ground for him to take care of in the morning.

“Baby, go to sleep,” he mutters under his breath after a while and you stir at the soft sound, a sheepish smile on your lips as you lift yourself from the ground and reach your bedroom with the laptop still open between your hands.

You put another one of shirts on making him chuckle and then, with his face close to the screen, you let yourself fall on the bed, right under the covers and hell, if you concentrate hard enough it almost seems like he’s right there with you, watching over you with his arms wrapped tightly around your frame.

Your eyes slowly close as he keeps whispering sweet nothings to you, so close to the microphone it almost feels like the sound is right inside your ears and just like magic, you fall into a deep slumber right before his eyes.

He watches you sleep for minutes on end as he crawls inside his cold bed as well and it is only when his eyes become heavy with sleep that he ends the call.

He falls asleep with a deep smile on his face and a contented heart in his chest and for the first time ever since he arrived in Tokyo, somehow, he feels utterly happy.

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