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letoasai · 5 months ago

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The Youngest Ancient

An idea where the JL has gotten word from Green Lantern that a planet has been destroyed. That threat is headed for Earth.

We could blame it on Darkseid despite the fact that i don’t actually know if that’s within his power set. Bad guy of your choice. Keeping it vague works too.

Danny finding out that one of his planets is gone and he’s not having it.

They were short on time. Monumentally short on time. Usually everyone would look to Batman in a situation like this. It wasn’t like his numerous contingency plans were a secret. The problem was time and an overall lack of information about the coming threat. All that was clear was the fact that Earth was in danger.

Not even a normal, run of the mill danger, but the planet bleeding out of existence kind of danger. Supposedly it could happen so fast that the citizens of Earth wouldn’t even know it had happened.

“There’s always begging an Ancient for help.” Constantine muttered, lighting another cigarette. As many members of the League as possible had gathered but brainstorming could only get them so far.

Multiple gazes snapped to him but it was Wonder Woman who spoke first. “You think petitioning the gods would be a wise course of action?”

“Could be the only course of action.” Flash muttered though no one looked happy about it.

“Nah, it’s a much crazier idea than that.” Constantine said flatly. “We’re not talking about any of those old hats we’re used to dealing with. I mean an Ancient. Their powers are next level stuff. Above the gods on the totem pole, if you will.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “You want to bring in a complete unknown.”

“I want the planet to fucking be in the same spot tomorrow, mate.” Constantine snapped back. They were out of time but he evidently had more practice at being reckless then the rest of the League. “Heard tales of a new baby Ancient. A likable kid that has many of the heavy hitters doting on `em. Word is the baby Ancient is rather agreeable. Makes deals. Likes to explore. That kind of thing.”

“Baby Ancient.” Superman repeated, clearly hearing the oxymoron in that title. “How does that work?”

“Well they gotta come from somewhere, don’t they?” Constantine shrugged. He didn’t know and he wasn’t going to ask.

“I’ve heard the same rumors.” Zatanna heaved a sigh, adding credence to Constantine’s claims. “Even if they can’t do anything themself, they might have enough pull with one of the other Ancients that can.”

Flash clucked his tongue. “We literally have everything to lose if we don’t do something. If no one else has any other ideas then we need to give it a shot.”

“How long do you need to prepare?” Batman asked, his frown obvious. He never fully liked ideas that he didn’t have a hand in.

Constantine sat up straighter, taking a pull from his cigarette and already looking exhausted. “Gimme an hour.”

“I’ll help.” Zatanna said, already standing.

“Forty minutes then.”

The light of the summoning circle was hard to look at. It was like a mini supernova right in front of them. The colors would have been amazing to look at if anyone could have opened their eyes to see it.

When it dimmed, leaving only a toxic looking green glow around the circle, a young boy floated in the center. His hair was white and flowed even in the tightly air controlled Watch tower. The freckles across his face seemed to glow just like his green eyes.

He was cute, and couldn't have been more than fifteen. He wore a skintight black suit, calf high white boots, and had a strange looking thermos hanging off his belt. So this was a baby Ancient. He looked utterly perplexed.

“Um…” He blinked, taking in every member of the Justice League slowly.

“Welcome to the Justice League Watch Tower.” Wonder Woman said, ever the diplomat. “We apologize for summoning you on such short notice.”

“Oh. Okay.” He was still blinking owlishly before his eyes locked onto one of the windows that currently had a vast view of space. The boy all but purred at the sight. “You can call me Phantom. What do you want?”

“You’re the new Ancient?” Constantine asked without as much tacked.

Phantom sighed, shifting to sit even as he floated. “So they tell me. I didn’t know there was going to be a superhero test.”

“We summoned you to request assistance if you are able to give it.” Batman said, taking over. “A threat is coming to destroy the Earth and we don’t have much time. Is there something in particular you would want in payment?”

“Besides souls.” Constantine muttered which subtly alarmed everyone within earshot.

“Destroy…Earth?” Phantom repeated slowly, head tilting. It was slowly occurring to everyone that maybe a baby Ancient really was too young to deal with something like this. “Why?”

Green Lantern sighed, arms crossed. “I’m likely the cause. Earth is the home base for Lanterns in this sector. The previous planet destroyed was also a home base.”

Phantom’s eyes jerked up, his full attention on Green Lantern. “Previous planet destroyed? Where?” He paused, “And when? I have been feeling a little off.”

No one knew quite what to make of the strange comment, but Lantern continued anyway. “A planet in the neighboring sector, 2813. It has been eight days, and before long, that threat will be here.”

“Is it possible you know of a way to prevent the destruction of Earth?” Wonder Woman asked, but Phantom seemed distracted.

He removed his gloves and was looking at the back of his hands. When that didn’t seem to tell him what he wanted, he tugged on his sleeve, making the fabric go invisible in small sections so he could easily look at his skin beneath it without the cumbersome task of rolling his sleeves up.

He was covered in glowing freckles, just like on his face, but one by one the League members took notice of the way they moved. Phantom would twist his arm one way and then another and each set of freckles would be replaced by a completely new set of glowing little spots. When that didn’t show him what he wanted, he kept looking, checking both arms first before moving down his chest slowly.

The League could do nothing but watch the strangeness before them as their follow up questions went ignored.

When he got to a spot under his ribs, Phantom screeched. “It’s gone!”

“Phantom…?”

Phantom looked out the Watch Tower window, his face morphing into one of fury. His eyes shined brightly and whatever he was looking for, he clearly found.

“T̢̜̞̮ͭ̓ͫͦh̨̻̼͓͓̜ͭ̈͆ȃ̴̩ͅtͯ̚͏͇̮̖̙ ̡̭͎̝̟͇͙̏ͣ̑͛m̵̭͉͈̳̟͎͈̲̋̋o͈̮̫͓̪͔͐͠t͉̬̉͒̈́ͪ͠h͉̠̭͓̞͎̺͓ͥͥ͘e̅͗̔̿҉̞̪̺̮̗̜r͙̪̼͈̐̉͞ ̫̥̳̿̾͒͑͞f͔̟͈͍ͯ̊̏́ù̶̯̬̫͈͕c̲ͣ̓̿͠ͅk̦̘̖̭͕͉̹̥̈̍̈́ͤ͘e͚̬͗͡ͅr̛̤̩̺͂̃̇̉ͅ.”

To say the Justice League was surprised by the shift in the boys tone was an understatement.

“Yeah, i’ll stop your threat.” Phantom growled, easily leaving the summoning circle. He shifted right through the wall and directly into space without a care.

Silence filled the room, no one entirely sure what they’d done by summoning a baby Ancient. “So that happened.” Flash commented. “Are we still planning for doomsday?”

“We’ll see…” Constantine muttered. “Though if that kid gets hurt, might be bad for the universe.”

“Not what we wanted to hear, John.” Wonder Woman said, looking out the window. Nothing looked unusual to her.

In an hour's time, Phantom returned just as distracted as he’d been when he’d left. He remained seated in the air as he held what looked like a cracked marble in his hands. It was surrounded by a mist, and inside sparked with many different colors.

Phantom seemed to be sealing the crack, a smile on his face.

Batman was the one to approach, and if he was anxious it was hard to tell. “Phantom.” He greeted cautiously. “You’re back.”

“Uh huh.” Phantom said, eyes glittering happily at the marble. “I got rid of your problem. Earth is safe.”

“Got…rid of.” Batman repeated slowly, a tinge of disbelief in his voice.

“So we’re good?” Flash asked. “Good work, kid.”

“Yeah, he deserved it.” Phantom said, finally cradling the smooth marble in his palm.

Constantine was still smoking, but his eyes were narrowed. “Do i wanna know what you’re doin’?”

Phantom beamed. “I got my planet back! It was a little broken but i fixed it.”

“Your planet?” Green Lantern repeated, adrenaline hitting him. “The destroyed planet!?”

“Yep.” Phantom looked pleased with himself. “Now i just gotta set it back in time eight days to get everyone back on track and i can put it back where it belongs.”

“Put it…back.” Batman seemed to have trouble with the skill set of one teenager.”

It was Superman who slid closer with a disarmingly charming smile. “May i ask what kind of Ancient you are. I admit i don’t know much about them.”

Phantom perked up. “I’m the Ancient of Space!” He ignored Constantine’s groan from across the room. “I’m really glad you guys called me about this! It would have taken me a while to find a planet destroyed out of the natural timeline.”

“And you have time abilities?” Wonder Woman asked softly. Time and Space was a heady combination.

“Nope! But Clockwork does.” Phantom said. “He’ll do it for me.”

“Will he?” The Flash stared.

Phantom didn’t seem to notice the incredulous looks. As far as he was concerned, everyone was simply taking his explanations in stride. Tilting his head back his eyes shimmered with power. “Clockwork!” he called, voice reverberating oddly. No one missed Zatanna paling or Constantine cursing. No one had time to ask either before a tear appeared just to the right of Phantom. It split the very air apart in a green haze before a portal opened and a man floated out. Wrapped in a purple cloak, the man floated like Phantom did but had a ghostly tail instead of legs and off putting red eyes.

He had a staff donned with clock gears and mechanisms that ticked in an unsettling way. No one needed an explanation, which was good because Constantine wasn’t going to give one.

This was the Ancient of Time. They had two Ancients in the Watch Tower.

Phantom didn’t seem bothered and held out his marble with a smile. “Fix!” he asked cheerfully.

Clockwork turned from what appeared to be an adult man to an elderly man in the blink of an eye. “You know time is sensitive, Phantom. Not everything can be changed on a whim."

Phantom’s smile lessened. He looked back and forth from Clockwork to the marble and back to Clockwork again. “I’ll cry. Swear to the Ancients, i’ll start crying.”

The elderly Clockwork shifted back into the form of a young man. “Do you think tears will alter the timeline?”

Batman smiled, almost. He knew a mischievous teen trying to get his way when he saw one. That theory proved correct when Phantom honestly did begin to sniffle, eyes becoming damp.

“An asshole destroyed a piece of me.” Phantom said, lips wobbling. “I felt it. I didn’t feel good.”

Clockwork’s form shifted again, this time into the form of a young child. He heaved a sigh, “If you start weeping you’ll summon the others.”

Phantom nearly whimpered, holding out the marble still. Every member of the Justice League watched with bated breath.

Clockwork crossed his arms. “How far back do you want it?”

“Yay!” Phantom beamed immediately, impressing upon how young he must have been. “Eight days! Actually, maybe nine. That might be better for them. I’m sure the…Green Lantern…people… can explain that they lost little more than a week in order to be brought back. That’ll be fine, right?”

Green Lantern was too stunned by the question to answer but it was fine since it seemed to be rhetorical coming from the young Ancient.

Clockwork turned back into an adult and held his staff out over the marble Phantom held. There was no discernible change other than the hands on the staff’s clock face moving. Phantom was nearly bouncing in place which was interesting to see considering his feet weren’t on the floor.

“Thank you, Clockwork!” Phantom said, looking delighted and completely missing the way Clockwork just sighed fondly.

“Hurry along home before the yeti’s start to look for you.” Clockwork said in a fairly familiar tone.

“Yes, yes.” Phantom said distractedly, tossing the marble up in the air where it disappeared. He tugged at his black suit right over his ribs and did the same invisibility trick again. He shifted twice until he found the patch of skin that held the group of freckles he wanted.

No one was close enough to see for themselves, but Phantom crowed happily. “Good! It’s back where it’s supposed to be!”

“It’s back?” Batman asked, a hint in his voice saying he had a hundred more questions.

“Yep.” Phantom said. “It’s really annoying to me when someone destroys one of my stars or planets before their natural life cycles have worn out.”

“Is that a map of the galaxy on your skin?” Wonder Woman asked, charmed by the constellation of freckles across his nose and under his pointed ears.

“No.” Phantom said. “It’s a map of every universe on my skin. They overlap so sometimes i gotta hunt for the one i want a little.”

“Every…” Superman sounded like he had the wind knocked out of him.

“Come, Your Majesty.” Clockwork said, opening a shockingly green portal with his staff. “You’ve had your fun.”

“Okay, okay.” Phantom mumbled.

“Majesty?” Zatanna whispered, confusion coloring her tone.

Phantom whipped back around to look at her with a sheepish grin. “Ah, yeah. I’m the King of the infinite Realm. Let me know if anyone else messes with one of my planets! Bye now.”

The Ancients departed and Constantine started wheezing.

“I take it no one knew the baby Ancient was a king?” Flash asked, a very startled silence taking over the Watch Tower.

I know i originally said that the planet had been destroyed but that somehow turned into it being eaten or absorbed or something so Danny got it back.

I really just wanted Danny to find a missing planet on his skin and freaking out over it.

Feel free to take this idea, though i’m sure something like it exists already. ^__^

Master List

#dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #Danny Phantom #The youngest ancient #justice league #Clockwork #Danny feeling the loss of a planet #whole solar systems on Danny's skin #star freckles

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jo-speaks · 13 days ago

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APOLOGY ACCEPTED

overview: after quinn receives the silent treatment, he's determined to make it up to you.

warnings: smut below! MDNI!! fingering, unprotected sex, quinn being an asshole but he makes up for it, etc.

note: got inspired to write bc the canucks beat the blackhawks!! (i was worried after they gave up that first goal)

“Will you quit acting like a child and just talk to me?”

You scoffed at his comment, slipping off your shoes and hanging your keys up by the door, Quinn following behind you.

In his eyes, you had no real reason to be upset. You had attended the Canucks and Islanders game, the game ending in a loss. You expected Quinn to be in a mood, a quiet one at that, so you didn’t make much of an effort to talk to him.

However, you hadn’t expected him to dodge your greeting entirely. No matter how upset he was, he’d always greet you with a hug and a kiss. This night, he had let you make a fool out of yourself, letting you wrap your arms around him as he failed to reciprocate it, being followed by walking away as you just nearly connected your lips to his.

This resulted in your current situation. You giving him the silent treatment. He had attempted to spark a conversation in the car once he had calmed down but fell victim to your silence.

He groaned in annoyance as you stepped into your shared bedroom, slipping out a few moments later in your own oversized shirt, something you only did when you were truly upset at him. You found solace on the couch, grabbing the remote and throwing some random video on in the background. Quinn watched as you didn’t even glance at him, his presence completely nonexistent in your state of anger.

He sighed walking into the room you once were in to change into something more comfortable than the suit he had entered the arena in. It was only when he slipped into his sweatpants was it that he realized that he was the one in the wrong. You had taken time out of your day to come out and support him, offering comfort even after a tough loss.

Quinn debated with himself in his own mind, brainstorming ways to make it up to you. He could get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness, smothering you with kisses until you forgave him or even spoke to him by telling him to stop. He could spoil you with gifts for the next year. He was feeling so unworthy of you that he briefly considered retiring early just to spend the whole time making it up to you.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in his head. He stripped off the shirt that he had put on only a few moments prior and stepped back into the living room.

His eyes were met with a slightly different scene than when he had left. Instead of mindlessly watching the TV, you were on your phone. He could catch a small glimpse of your screen, seeing you like a post from the Canucks Instagram page of him hugging Lekkerimäki after scoring his first NHL goal, zooming in to get a good look at his proud smile.

Quinn could feel his stomach twist at your actions, regretting every single second he had gone without apologizing to you.

You soon went back to scrolling your feed, trying to ignore Quinn’s presence as he squatted in front of you, turning the TV volume down before shifting his attention to you.

He sighed, “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”

It was genuine, you knew that. But he was going to have to say a lot more than sorry after what he pulled. Quinn knew this too, immediately crowding your space, taking your phone out of your hands, and placing it on the coffee table. You rolled your eyes, shifting your gaze at the TV behind him even though it was barely coherent.

Quinn didn’t stop his efforts when you ignored him, if anything it implored him to try harder. He began kissing your cheek, eventually trailing down your face and landing on your neck, sucking at the soft skin, leaving purple blotches wherever his lips landed.

You struggled to keep quiet as he reached a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, a spot he knew would make you want to drop it and give in. Somehow, you managed to keep your composure, distracting yourself with the TV.

His lips trailed further down, kissing over your shirt as he kept going lower. It was only that his kisses stopped when he reached the bottom of the clothing. He moved it slightly so he could get access to your shorts. He moved from his squatting position to hover on top of your figure on the couch.

Now that he was in a more comfortable spot, his lips found your face again as his hand dipped into your shorts and past your panties. You bit your tongue as the pads of his fingers made contact with your clit, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He mumbled into your jaw, “So fucking sorry.

Once again he trailed lower, his lips landing on your collarbone this time. His fingers increased their speed and keeping quiet was getting close to impossible. Luckily for him, your control slipped slightly as he pushed two fingers into you, a soft moan escaping your lips.

He was knuckle-deep into you as he curled his fingers, hitting that one spot in you that caused a gasp to slip out. You were determined to keep quiet, but with every thrust of his fingers and tightening of the knot in your stomach, you wanted nothing more than to cry out his name and beg him to fuck you.

Quinn was relentless, not only with his fingers but with his words. He mumbled apology after apology into your skin as you panted, trying your best not to let anything slip. His mouth ended up next to your ear, his words seeming much more intimate due to the proximity.

“Please forgive me, sweet girl. I’ll never do it again.” He whined, sounding pathetic as he begged for your forgiveness.

One last curl of his fingers and your body stopped fighting him. You came undone around his digits, crying out his name as you reached a hand up to tug on his hair. He sighed in relief, eyes shutting as he felt the satisfaction of not only making you cum but also hearing you acknowledge him since entering the apartment.

As you came down from your high, he continued to place soft kisses all over your neck and face. The satisfaction continued as you turned your head, your lips finding his like you had yearned for back at the arena.

He retracted his fingers and brought them up to his mouth, wiping them clean with his tongue. You smiled hazily at the sight, admiring the way he savoured your taste as if it was his favourite thing in the world.

“Am I forgiven?” He whispered, a hint of worry laced in his words.

You giggled quietly, “I think you can make it up to me a little more, don’t you think?”

Quinn smiled at your words, stepping off the couch to discard his pants completely. You lifted your hips, sliding out of your shorts. He only got as far as to sit down on the couch before you swung a leg around his lap, straddling him, his eyes admiring you on top of him.

Now it was your turn to litter him in marks, his lack of a shirt making his pec your first target. You sucked gently, grinding yourself over his bare cock, eliciting a groan from your boyfriend.

“Let me take care of you, hm? Promise I’ll make you feel good.” Quinn asked, hoping to at least be able to rest inside of you as you sucked at his skin.

You smiled, pulling back to place a brief kiss on his lips, “I know you will. But I wanna take my time with you. Just give me a second, okay?”

He knew he wasn’t in a position to complain, so he simply nodded, settling for the stimulation he was getting from your hips. Thankfully, Quinn was so easily marked up that you were satisfied not long after. You were always careful not to leave any hickeys that were visible under his gear, but you got carried away and now the media would get a short glimpse into his personal life. Not that either of you cared about it at the moment, however.

When you pulled away, you lifted your hips and shot him a look. He caught the hint immediately, lining himself up with your entrance and thrusting into you swiftly.

Quinn gave you no chance to adjust before he fucked you harshly. All the teasing you had made him endure got him so worked up, that he was surprised he didn’t finish as soon as he entered you.

“Shit, you feel so good.” He groaned, his hands shifting from your hips to grope at your ass.

You let out a whimper as you felt your orgasm build up yet again, the look on your boyfriend’s face making your brain short circuit. His eyebrows were knitted together, eyes glossy and cheeks red as a stream of moans left his throat.

“Quinn! I’m so close.” You whined, your face leaning into his shoulder in an attempt to hold yourself together long enough for him to finish with you. That vision was tossed out of your mind as Quinn brought his hand to your clit, his thumb rubbing around it.

A stream of his name along with some obscenities escaped your lips as you came around his cock, the pulses coming from your pussy being enough to tip Quinn over as well.

His movement subsided, the only sounds in the room being gasping breaths coming from the two of you.

Quinn settled down first, pressing languid kisses to the side of your face. “I love you. I’m so sorry.”

You smiled into his skin, turning your head to look at him, “Apology accepted. Just don’t ever do it again.”

“I never will.” He leaned over to kiss your lips longingly before speaking again, “How about we get cleaned up and order in some dinner? We can even throw on one of those cheesy romance movies you like.”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #qh43 #vancouver canucks #nhl smut #jo speaks

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roosterforme · 9 months ago

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Whole Lotta Love | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley were just friends, and perhaps that was why you trusted him so much. It wasn't his fault that you were secretly harboring a crush a mile wide. When your noisy neighbor becomes too much and you decide you need to move, Bradley helps you brainstorm a solution. But when you set your plans into action, you're surprised to find that he seems almost jealous.

Warnings: Adult language, angst, fluff, drinking, mentions of masturbation

Length: 8600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @mak-32

"I need to move."

Bradley looked up at your annoyed expression as you dropped your lunch tray a little violently onto the cafeteria table across from him with a clatter. The top piece of bread slid off your sandwich as you sat down with a pout.

"Like to a new apartment?" he asked, reaching over to straighten out your silverware and napkin. "Didn't we just help you move a few months ago, Sparrow?"

For some reason that set you off as your clenched fist bumped the edge of the tray, messing everything up again. "Yes, to a new apartment, Rooster! And yes, I just moved six months ago, but I can't take another day of this shit."

"What's wrong?" Jake asked where he was inhaling his food right next to you like he had a vendetta against it.

You sighed, and the sound was so soft and sweet compared to your frustrated expression, Bradley almost laughed. "The guy who lives above me is an aspiring wedding DJ. Do you have any idea what that means for my sleep schedule?"

"Oh shit," Javy groaned from your other side. "Are you getting Cupid Shuffle all night long?"

"Coyote," you whined, "he makes his own remixes! At four in the morning! When I asked him to stop, he said he was perfecting his artform, but that he'd turn the volume down a smidge. Meanwhile, I moved into my current apartment, because my old neighbors were hosting woodworking retreats in their living room!"

Now Bradley really was laughing. "You need a break? You can come sleep over at my place tonight."

You were finally smiling now as you said, "Thanks Rooster, but I've seen the wrong side of your couch before. I had a long, long night in your living room after the holiday party."

"So don't get drunk first this time," he replied easily, remembering that night vividly. You let him carry you into his house from his Bronco while you whispered the lyrics to Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin really slowly to him. It was funny and somehow a little hot at the same time. He liked it a little too much. "Or you can just sleep in my bed."

Your eyes went a little wide. "With you?"

"Of course not," he replied quickly, hoping he wasn't blushing. "We're just friends. I could take the couch for one night so you can have a break. If you want."

You and he really were just friends. You were friends with all the guys. They all loved you and your humor, and you were a hell of a good WSO. Bradley didn't even fly with a backseater, but he always liked getting paired with you and Omaha. You had an ease about you, and it even translated to the way you took a massive bite out of your sandwich after you said, "Maybe I'll just sneak in and break DJ Insomnia's turntables."

Then you smiled at Bradley while you chewed your food, and Javy and Jake started to make up a song about DJ Insomnia. You laughed when they tried to rhyme 'slumber' with 'nightmare', but you were still looking at Bradley as if he was in on some inside joke with you. Your eyes twinkled when he nudged your leg with his boot underneath the table.

"Hey, I'll be more than happy to help you move again, Sparrow, but I think you ought to at least consider having me over around three in the morning with my keyboard. I'll bring these two idiots with me as well, and we can all sing at the top of our lungs until your neighbor moves out."

You tipped your head back and laughed. "Oh, Rooster. You're the sweetest, but he'd probably actually enjoy that."

Now Bradley was definitely blushing as he looked down at his lunch, and he wasn't really sure why.

------------------------

You gathered your things together for the night as soon as you heard your neighbor playing the Electric Slide. If he was already starting at seven o'clock, you needed to get out now. You shoved clean underwear and some random clothing into your backpack before you stopped in the bathroom and grabbed the essentials. Bradley's couch had never sounded better to you in your life, but if he felt like offering up his bed, then even better. Hell, you'd curl up in there with him at this point. What difference did it make? It wasn't like anything physical was ever going to happen.

He was one of the boys, and you loved them all. It wasn't Bradley's fault that his sun kissed skin and wavy hair were kind of your thing. If they were attached to another man, you'd probably have made a move, but he was your friend. Sure, you'd thought about it before, when you were alone in bed and it was very, very late. He was attractive and hilarious, and you were only human. But some things were sacred.

"Yeah, like peace and quiet," you growled as you stomped down your hallway. You grabbed your keys and headed out, zipping along to Bradley's house in record time. You were obsessed with his place which was complete with flower boxes underneath the front windows and a pink front door that he never seemed to get around to repainting even though he mentioned it all the time.

You hauled yourself up to his porch with your half zipped backpack and bad attitude and pounded on his door. You had a spare key somewhere in the bottom of your purse, but you didn't feel like digging for it. When he didn't answer, you pounded again, a little harder this time.

"Yeah?" he asked, his tone gruff as the door flew open. "Sparrow," he muttered, his voice much softer with your call sign attached to it. "Hey."

But you didn't register too much besides the fact that he was standing there in nothing but a pair of snug boxer briefs with damp hair and skin that smelled delicious just inches away from you. "Hi," you said, sounding as mesmerized as you felt. Golden tan. Sparse chest hair. Perfectly groomed mustache. You wanted to lick him. Where on earth did that urge come from? You never thought about dragging your tongue along his chest and neck and all the way up to his lips. Except that you had... very, very late at night.

Fuck.

It wouldn't be worth messing things up. You forced your gaze up to his brown eyes. "I'm here for our sleepover," you said with as much normalcy as you could muster, but the response you got was Bradley's cheeks turning pink as he leaned away from the doorway so you could step inside. Then you came to a stop and looked at him again. He smelled really good. Like maybe he was wearing cologne. "Oh. Were you heading out? Do you have a date?"

His cheeks grew redder. "Um, no. Not at all. Of course not."

His answer sent a little wave of relief through your body. "Good." You winced at your response as you continued to his couch and set your bag down. "I mean, do you want to order a pizza or something?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Just let me get dressed. I'll be right back out."

--------------------------

You actually came over. With your backpack full of your stuff. Bradley wasn't expecting you to take him up on his offer, and now he was doubly flustered; he actually did plan a last minute date, and he just jerked off in the shower while thinking about you.

"Oh fuck," he groaned as he pulled on a pair of jeans. He didn't start off thinking about you. It just kind of happened. At first, he was thinking about a faceless girl sitting on his lap with her hand in his underwear, and then suddenly she did have a face. Your face. And then she had your voice. And then he pictured the two of you on his actual couch. And it was definitely you giving him a handjob in his shower fantasy, and he came all over the tile wall like it was your face. He was lucky you didn't let yourself in with your spare key in time to hear him moaning your name.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked his reflection in the bedroom mirror. He looked wild. Slightly deranged. His pupils were huge, and his cheeks were hot pink. How the hell was he supposed to eat pizza with you while he was thinking about you on his lap?

But the fact that he wanted nothing more than to eat pizza and drink beers with you solidified the fact that he needed to cancel his date with Erin. He was so stupid for doing this. She was a viable option for someone to date. You were not. But he was apparently going to torture himself anyway as he texted her Hey, sorry this is last minute, but I need to reschedule.

He didn't wait for a response as he made his way back to his living room where you had already cracked open a can of beer from the refrigerator and made yourself at home on the couch. You were wearing what you always wore when you didn't have on a flight suit, just yoga pants and a baggy tee shirt. It shouldn't have been cute, but it was.

You smiled up at him as you nudged the unopened can of beer on the coffee table with your blue painted toenail. "I got you one."

He poked your foot with his finger and picked up the beer as he said, "Yeah, it's the least you could do since you helped yourself to my fridge."

When he dropped down onto the couch next to you, his weight on the cushions had you colliding into him. "Sorry," you murmured, your hand coming to rest on his abs as you pushed yourself back into place like it was nothing. Meanwhile, he broke out in a nervous sweat. "What do you want to watch?"

"Doesn't matter," he replied, handing you the remote. Then he grinned and said, "Or we could skip the TV, and I could get my keyboard out and play Cupid Shuffle for you. Maybe try my hand at a remix." You tipped your head back and pretended to cry before you started laughing. "What's the matter? I'm sure I'll sound better than your neighbor. Give it a chance, Sparrow," he teased.

You turned to face him on the couch, still laughing with your beer can resting against his bicep. "First of all, no. Please. No. Absolutely not. Second, has anyone ever told you how adorable it is that you have a keyboard that you actually play?"

"I tell myself that all the time," he replied, trying hard not to smile as you laughed. "I say, 'Bradley, you're adorable. I think it's so cool that you want to relive your piano lessons from middle school. Maybe you should get braces again, too.'"

You were cackling now as you gasped, "Stop it."

He sipped his beer and shook his head. "Of course nobody has ever said my keyboard is adorable. It's the nerdiest thing a guy in his thirties could possibly own, and only like five people in total know about it."

With tears in your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath. "I'm so happy I'm one of those five people."

"Yeah, well, keep it to yourself," he muttered with a smile as he took the remote back and turned on the Padres game. You were still giggling softly as you settled in next to him again. "You want pizza?" he asked.

"I've never said no to pizza," you replied easily, your thigh rubbing gently against his.

"My treat."

"You always say it's your treat. I'll get it this time."

"Nah, you've got to save up your money so you can move out of your apartment, remember?" he asked as he placed the order on his phone.

"How could I forget?" you moaned. "Your house is so nice, I wish I could evict you and move in here."

He set his phone aside and kicked his feet up onto his coffee table. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "That would be a pretty rude thing to do to the guy who always buys your pizza."

Your side eye was impeccable as you said, "It's not like you'd be destitute. I'd let you live with DJ Insomnia. Now I just need a way to make money fast."

Bradley shook his head as the baseball game went to a commercial. "There's no such thing, Sparrow. Nothing legal anyway, and Uncle Sam pays your salary."

You were tapping your beer can with your finger and biting your lip gently, and Bradley's mind drifted back to his shower fantasy. You hummed softly, and he could practically feel the weight of your body settling onto his lap. That's what he wanted. You and he could finish this discussion with you straddling his thighs and his tongue in your mouth.

He should have gone out with Erin. He should have just admitted that he had a date and told you that you could hang out here while he was gone, because now he was getting his hopes up as your leg bumped his again. He knew he was blushing when he looked at you, so he turned back to the TV just in time for the beginning of a Hooters commercial.

"Wow," you mused with a little snicker as you gestured toward the parade of tits with your beer can. "That really got your attention."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "No, it didn't."

"Seriously? That's a lot of boobs, Rooster. You think we should contact the ad agency and tell them they should feature a few more?"

He turned and looked at you, and you started cracking up again. "I think it was actually just the right amount of boobs," he said, trying really hard not to look at your chest.

You forced your face into a neutral expression. "Do you like to go to Hooters?"

Bradley groaned and tried to stand up but you reached for his arm and tugged him closer to you instead. "Why do you think it's fun to pick on me?"

"I'm not really sure, but it's great," you replied. "Didn't all the guys go to Hooters for Jake's birthday?"

"Yeah," he replied with a laugh. "Jake got completely fucking wasted and proposed to our waitress. Then he tried to write his number on a napkin for her, but it looked like hieroglyphics. He even tried to follow her into the kitchen at one point, and Javy had to go get him. At least he left her a two hundred dollar tip for being so annoying."

You gaped at him and set your empty beer can on the coffee table. "Two hundred bucks? Oh my god, do you realize how fast I could buy my own place with guys like Jake around if I worked at Hooters?"

Bradley sat up a little straighter and watched as your eyes lit up while you watched the end of the commercial before the Padres game came on again. "You wouldn't want guys... fussing over you like that, would you?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "I can handle myself."

"That's not what I meant. I just-" He cut himself off. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell you he was already jealous just thinking about it? He definitely couldn't admit that. So instead he said, "Your boobs are too good for Hooters. You should keep them in your flight suit."

Now you were looking down at your body and running your hands up your belly to your chest, and Bradley was entranced as he watched you squeeze yourself through your tee shirt like it didn't even matter if he was there or not. You must have trusted him implicitly as you looked at him with sad eyes and said, "You're probably right. Guys know best about this kind of thing, and flight suits are a catch-all for making everyone's body look identical. Maybe it's better to just keep blending in."

He felt like a jerk, because that's not what he meant at all. He wanted to tell you that you were beautiful and that you'd probably make enough money in two weeks to buy the house of your dreams in those orange booty shorts and the tiny tops, but he couldn't. He wanted to kiss that little pout from your lips, but he wouldn't. Instead he said, "Let's keep brainstorming?"

"Yeah, thanks," you whispered, letting your lips brush against his cheek, and Bradley jumped about a mile into the air when there was a knock at the front door.

-------------------------

You and Bradley had given up on the Padres game. Now you were turned so you were facing each other with pizza and paper plates and more cans of beer. "Okay, you hear how quiet your house is? You hear how nobody is annoying the shit out of you right now? No turntables or amplifiers anywhere?"

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. His cheeks had been perpetually pink all night, and it was really distracting. You had to keep reminding yourself that he thought you'd look better in your shapeless flight suit than in a Hooters uniform, and it kind of broke your heart every single time. But that's what you needed.

You forced a smile as you said, "I want this kind of peace in my life. So give me your best brainstorming ideas for how I can make some more money. Go."

"What about cage fighting?" he asked before he took an enormous bite of pizza.

"Cage fighting?" you balked. "Maybe you don't think much of my face, but I happen to like it the way it is!"

His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped open. "I do like your face, Sparrow. I was just joking."

He still looked concerned as you waved him off and asked, "What if I started bartending again? Like I did in college?"

Bradley shrugged. "You'll get just as many guys creeping on you at a bar."

You nibbled on your pizza crust and thought about your options. "What if it's the right kind of bar though? One with bouncers and security guards and everything, and oh my god! I've got it!"

"What?"

You watched him fold another slice of pizza in half and devour it as you said, "The Beauty Bar."

He froze with his mouth full and started shaking his head. "No," he said as soon as he swallowed. "That's like Hooters, but the girls dance. On the bar."

"Exactly," you told him, letting your hand rest on his knee. "Bigger tips and buffer security guards. Just think about it, Rooster. I could play one of the characters and have my own unique outfit. It's mostly just bartending, but the breaks for dancing would be so fun."

He looked a little constipated, and you almost laughed when he asked, "What kind of outfit?"

You tried to remember the girls from the only time you'd been there. "I think there was a cowgirl and a schoolgirl? Or like a dirty librarian?"

Bradley leaned a little closer to you and said, "Maybe you should reconsider the cage fighting. I could get you like a hockey mask to wear?" He ran his fingertip gently down the side of your face. "You know, to keep you safe?"

"I wouldn't last one round," you told him with a grin. "Besides, The Beauty Bar is mostly filled with bachelorette parties and girls having a fun night out. I think I'll call them or stop by tomorrow and see what they say."

Bradley dropped his hand from your face and muttered, "I'll keep brainstorming. You feel like watching a movie?"

"Sure," you told him as you stretched. "You pick since you paid for the pizza."

A few seconds later, your favorite movie was queued up on the TV, and you tried to get him to look at you, but he was actively avoiding doing so as he tried not to smile. You were halfway on his lap with your hands on his cheeks when he finally met your eyes. "Thanks, Bradley. For the pizza and for the movie and the sleepover and everything."

"You're welcome," he whispered softly. You thought about how good it would feel to kiss him, but you ended up laying on a pillow that was propped against his thigh instead. Less than halfway into the movie, you were sound asleep.

----------------------

Bradley didn't want to move. You were sound asleep with your cheek pressed to his thigh, and a tiny little spot of drool darkened the fabric of his jeans next to your lips. You had pushed the pillow to the floor, and you had reached for his hand while you dozed.

He'd had a full blown crush on you for a while now. It was useless to try to deny it. But you had him in the friend zone along with Javy and Jake and all the rest of the guys, and he was sure that if he tried to level up, you'd smash him right back down where he belonged.

You were so cute, finally getting the sleep you deserved. Clearly you trusted him, which made him feel important, but he wanted to be important to you in every way.

When he tried to slide off the couch, you snuggled against him harder. When he tried to wake you up, you moaned and snoozed on. He got himself awkwardly into position to pick you up, and he hoisted you into his arms. Your hand rested on his chest, and your lips met his neck as you mumbled, "I'm sleepy."

"I know you are, Honey." The pet name just slipped out, but you didn't complain as he stood there in his living room trying to stave off an erection as you snuggled against him. "I'm taking you to my bed. You'll be more comfortable."

"M'kay."

Then he was treated to your half asleep rendition of Whole Lotta Love where most of the lyrics were wrong and it was pretty much completely off key. But you were singing it right next to his ear, and once again, he liked it more than he should. When he set you down on his bed, you immediately burrowed under the blankets like you slept in his room all the time, and he watched you curl up on your side.

Your eyes were closed as you whispered, "Aren't you getting in?"

He wanted to. He knew the feel of your body well enough to know that he'd love snuggling with you all night. But this friendship meant something to him. "Nah, I'll be out on the couch if you need me."

You didn't respond verbally, but you did nod, and Bradley kissed your temple. Then he grabbed a blanket from his closet and left you alone. His thoughts were a complete mess as he stepped out of his jeans and tossed them on the coffee table. He stretched out on his couch as much as he could, but then he thought about you wearing a Hooters uniform.

"Don't do it," he warned himself, but it was too fucking late. The little orange shorts and the tiny white shirts had been nice on the other girls, sure. But on you'd, they would be lethal for him.

The idea of you dressed as a cowgirl doing a little dance routine on a sticky bartop wasn't much better. Guys would be throwing tip money at you and begging you to make their drinks. They would all want to chat you up and try to touch you. Bradley would go through the roof if one of them did. But if this is what you wanted to do and it was going to help you reach your goal, then he was going to have to be supportive, even if it killed him.

After barely sleeping most of the night, Bradley was finally dozing when you walked out into the living room the next morning. His blanket ended up on the floor at some point, but you came right over to him where he was overflowing from the couch in just his undershirt and boxer briefs.

"You could have slept in your bed, too," you whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair. "You're too big for the couch."

He noted that you were wearing your backpack as he melted into your touch. "Are you leaving? I thought we could grab breakfast."

Now you were smiling. "I'm gonna run. I'm planning to stop at The Beauty Bar later and see if they're hiring any new bartenders. Thanks for everything."

With that, you kissed his forehead, and Bradley's eyes closed as soon as you went prancing out his front door into the sunlight. "I'll keep brainstorming," he groaned.

----------------------------

Your interview at the bar consisted of making three drinks and picking out a 'uniform' to wear. Some of the clothing was so tiny, it made the Hooters girls look modest by comparison. But they assured you that you'd love working there, so you accepted the position and took your new clothing home.

The first time you put on the black leather skirt that zipped all the way up the front along with the cropped shirt, you took it back off immediately. Could you mix cocktails in the outfit? Sure. Could you dance on the top of the bar for three minutes straight three times per night? Maybe not. But then you remembered that they told you some girls made up to five hundred bucks per shift. And then DJ Insomnia started on a remix of the Macarena right above you.

So you put the outfit back on again and decided that yes, you could do this. And maybe it would help to get a guy's perspective on the way you looked and your dance moves. You wanted to ask Bradley, but you didn't think you could handle the way he'd laugh about this. But there was something about the way he'd been concerned about you when you slept over at his place on Friday night. You almost felt protected. Cared for. God, you were already jealous of the woman he would eventually fall for, because she would be on the receiving end of all of his warm attention. And she'd get to live in that house with him. And he'd actually sleep in his bed with��her, unlike the couch when you were there.

You rolled your eyes in the mirror and added some makeup to your face. This was so unlike you, falling for one of your friends. But you were tired of trying to fight it. And you still trusted his opinions. So you called him.

"Sparrow," he crooned when he answered your call.

"Rooster," you replied in your most matter of fact tone. "I was wondering if you could stop by for a few minutes and help me with something?"

"Right now?" he asked immediately.

You bit your lip before swiping some lipstick on while you said, "Whenever you have a chance."

"I'll be there soon."

He didn't let you down. He never did. Twenty minutes later, there were three taps on your apartment door, and then he was letting himself inside with the spare key you gave him months ago.

"Sparrow, it's me," he called out over the remix of Footloose. "Jesus. You weren't kidding. Your neighbor plays music like this all the time?"

"Yes," you shouted from your bedroom. "Constantly."

"I'm going to go up and have a little chat with him."

You were putting the finishing touches on your makeup as you said, "Don't bother. I've tried so many times. All he's done is lower the volume the slightest bit."

Bradley's sarcastic laugh from your living room made you smile. "I'm sure I can get him to do whatever I say."

That was undoubtedly the truth. You also didn't want him to get arrested. When you ran out to see him, you had forgotten what you were wearing as you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him.

Bradley's eyes were wide, and as soon as his hands settled on your bare waist, he pulled them right off again. "Holy shit. What the fuck is this?"

"Oh," you gasped, taking a nervous step away from him. "It's kind of my uniform. For my new bartending gig?" His cheeks were pink, his lips were parted, and he was gaping at you as he dragged his gaze up and down your body. "Is it bad?"

"Holy shit," he repeated. And then he said it one more time before he met your eyes. "Do you think it's bad?"

You winced and groaned. "I wasn't sure. But you're a guy. If you think it's awful, then I certainly don't want to wear it to my second job." He let out a strangled sound, and you started to turn back to your bedroom. "I'll stick to my flight suits."

You felt his fingers lace with yours before you heard his strained voice. "It's not bad, Sparrow. It's really fucking hot." You turned and looked at him, annoyed that you were feeling so vulnerable. He swallowed hard before he added, "You always look good."

He tugged you a little closer to him, and a smile found your lips. "I think I get it. It's hard to be objective when you're friends with someone. You'd probably like the outfit better on someone else."

Somehow his eyes went wider. "I really don't think that's it at all, actually," he whispered. Then DJ Insomnia started playing a remix that actually sounded good for once, and you tugged Bradley toward your couch with your linked fingers.

"Here, watch me dance real quick, and then we can just hang out."

"Okay," he grunted, taking a seat.

"Just pretend I'm someone else," you told him as you ran one hand down your side until your palm settled on your hip. You started to turn in a slow circle as you moved your hips to the music that made its way to your living room.

"I don't really want to do that."

You looked back at Bradley over your shoulder and caught him staring at your butt. "You don't?"

He shook his head slowly as you turned to face him, still dancing. "Hell no," he whispered, watching your face now. He brought his hand up to cover his mouth, and his dark gaze looked almost greedy, but he sat there and watched you dance, barely moving a muscle until you stopped along with the music.

"Well? What do you think?" you asked, holding your hands out to your sides.

He cleared his throat. "I think it's a good thing you don't have a boyfriend, because he'd already be jealous as fuck."

------------------------

You looked exhausted every single day now. Bradley started to bring you extra coffee from his own kitchen to try to combat your near constant yawning and fatigue each morning. You weren't just battling through sleepless nights at your apartment with DJ Insomnia, you were also working all day as a WSO and frequently working late into the night at the bar.

"I'm a little worried about you," he murmured one morning as you sipped the coffee he made. "You're working too hard, Sparrow." He didn't want to put voice to the way he felt about your bartending shifts. He made it a point not to stop by and see you there even though you'd asked him to. But he desperately wished you would quit. Every time he thought about you in your little costume with your red, pouty lips, he got more jealous inside. He could just imagine dozens, maybe hundreds of pairs of eyes on you, and he didn't like the way he wanted to be the only one treated to that sight.

"I'm fine," you replied softly. "I've already made thousands in tip money, and it's only been two weeks." You tried to smile up at him, but it didn't quite meet your eyes. "I mean, it's not the best scenario, because sometimes the patrons get a little rowdy. But it's not the worst thing. I'll just keep it up for a few months or until I get deployed."

Bradley grunted. "Explain to me exactly how rowdy they get."

Now you were sipping your coffee and staring at the patches on his flight suit instead of looking at his face. "Well, nobody is supposed to touch us. But sometimes guys do try it. Especially when we're dancing. The bouncers are great and all, but they can only get over there so quickly."

Bradley leaned down until you were looking him in the eye. He knew he was no better than some random asshole at the bar. He was probably worse since he thought about you dancing for him every time he took a shower. But he couldn't stand how apprehensive you looked when you talked about that place. You never looked like that when you were alone with him.

"I think you should quit," he told you blandly.

"It's not that bad," you replied. "Maybe I'm not doing a good job of explaining it. Come visit one night, and I'll buy you a drink."

"Sparrow, literally the last thing I want to do is witness every drunk asshole at the bar trying to look up your skirt."

You scoffed. "I wear little booty shorts underneath it!"

He closed his eyes and grunted, "I could have lived without that visual." It would just add to his shower time fodder.

"Oh! You should come on Friday night," you said, patting him on the chest. "I'll invite all the guys! There are drink specials. Hey, Javy!"

You wandered away, and soon Bradley's fate was sealed. Javy, Jake, Mickey, Reuben and Bob were all planning on going to The Beauty Bar for happy hour, and he was expected to be there, too. It wasn't like it was your fault he was falling for you, so he was just going to have to go and be supportive. He'd make sure all the guys left you massive tips, too.

You were still exhausted on Friday morning, and Bradley didn't like the way you were yawning as you loaded into your jet. You were quieter now at work than you usually were, and he was tempted to tell you to start sleeping at his place to try to cut out some of your stress. Having you close by sounded good to him as well.

Maybe he'd hang out at your bar all night and take you home with him. He could carry you to his bed before retiring to the couch and pretending he was also in his bed. Maybe you would even serenade him with the song. You'd get a good night's sleep and then this never ending friendship loop would start all over again.

If he could think of a way to break the loop and turn it into a straight line that led to a relationship with you, he'd take it. That was probably the type of brainstorming he should be working on at this point since you were already working at the bar now. He was still trying to think of a way to tell you how he really felt without destroying the friendship as he drove his Bronco across the city to the extremely popular Beauty Bar.

"You're kidding," he muttered. There was a line to get inside, and he told you he'd be here by eight o'clock when the dancing started.

"Holy shit," Jake said as he and Javy headed up the sidewalk and got in line with him. "I guess there's no shortage of guys who want to look at Sparrow."

Javy nodded in agreement. "I mean, I don't really want to look at Sparrow, but I'll gladly take all the other girls."

That was literally the exact opposite of Bradley's thinking. He couldn't give a shit who else was working, his eyes would find you and stay there all night. Whether you were serving drinks, chatting with patrons or dancing, he'd be focused on nothing but you.

The guys all got their driver's licenses out, and the bouncer muttered, "Don't want any trouble from the three of you," as he checked them.

Shit, what the hell kind of place was this if you got warned at the door on your way in? But when he walked inside and saw how crowded it was along with the two random girls doing a line dance along the bar, he could kind of understand. It was mostly packed with guys, and Reuben, Mickey and Bob were waving them over. Bradley moved slowly through the crowd, and then he found you in your cute little outfit handing someone a beer, and his heart stopped.

Your smile looked like it was pasted on, but once you saw Bradley, your whole face lit up. You waved to him as you bounced up and down behind the bar, clearly excited that he was here. He started throwing his elbows and shoulders around to get to you, passing all of the other guys in the process.

"Rooster!" you called out over the music when he got closer. The two girls danced across the bar between you and him, but his focus didn't waver at all as he matched your smile. "Do you want a drink?"

He shrugged and said, "I kind of just wanted to see you."

"Oh," you replied, looking pleased enough that Bradley decided to push the boundary just a little bit.

"I don't really like it here, actually. If at any time you feel like quitting your job, I'll take you right to my place and let you sleep in peace and quiet again."

You poured a beer and handed it to him. "You don't like the girls?" you asked, glancing at the boots as they went by again.

"Not those ones."

You looked him dead in the eye and asked, "Which ones then?"

His fingers flexed on his pint of beer as someone tried to jostle him out of the way to get closer, but he didn't look away from you as he said, "Come on, Sparrow." His voice was a little rough, and now you looked confused. He would do it. He'd ruin everything just so you knew. But he didn't want you to feel bad for him.

Then someone called your first name, and you and he both turned to see an older woman holding up both hands. "I'm on in ten," you told him, reaching out to touch his fingers where they rested on the bar. "Let me take a few more drink orders before I have to dance."

"Right," he said. It was better that you didn't know. You were trying to make some money here, and he was already messing it up by talking to you for too long. "I'll catch you later."

He wandered off in the direction of the rest of the guys. "Yo, that blonde is so hot, and she made my drink perfectly," Mickey was saying as he drank something that looked fruity and sweet.

"I'm an equal opportunity aviator tonight," Jake drawled. "I see a girl in a little outfit, she gets my phone number."

"You're delusional is what you are," Bradley told him as he sipped his beer. "All of you better leave Sparrow a massive tip. Seriously. I'm not kidding."

He listened to the guys chat as he turned back toward the bar to check on you. It was almost time for you to dance, and his stomach was churning with anticipation and anxiety. He'd been dying to see you move like that again, but he could do without the memory of everyone else knowing how you looked when you shook your hips.

Then you broke away from some guy who looked like a real tool who was reaching for you across the bar. You backed up and bumped into the mini fridge behind you and winced, and Bradley took a few steps in your direction. He memorized what that guy was wearing and what he looked like, just in case.

But now it was time for you to dance, so at least you were able to step away from him. One of the cowgirls was helping you up onto the bar, and the crowd started cheering. The opening notes to Whole Lotta Love started playing, and Bradley's arms prickled with goosebumps as you ran your hand down to your waist and shook your hips from side to side. You were moving just like you had in your living room, but all he could think about were the times you sang this song to him. He wanted all of it to be just for him. He wanted to touch you the way you were touching yourself. He wanted to taste the sweat that glistened on your neck.

His jealousy flared, burning bright inside of him as he watched everyone crowd the bar as you strutted along with a smile on your face. And once again your smile brightened when you found him, and then you mouthed the lyrics, 'Way down inside, honey you need it. I'm gonna give you my love. I'm gonna give you my love.' You mouthed the words to him.

Bradley grunted. His body felt like it was pulled taut like a rubber band, about to snap. You stopped at the end of the bar and did a little twirl as the crowd sang along to the song, but you kept your eyes on him. Your lips perfectly formed every word, and he'd never forget this feeling for the rest of his life.

Then you turned away from him, and he instantly missed the way you were subtly giving him your attention. He moved forward a little bit through the crowd, wanting to get closer to you. When you spun around again, he saw you looking for him, and your smile wavered.

"Sparrow!" he called out, and when you found him again, you laughed. And he laughed, too. But this must have been the breaking point in the evening, because Bradley got hit in the shoulder as a fight broke out to his right. Everyone got shoved forward, and a random glass of beer hit the bar. You tried to jump out of the way as your feet got soaked, and then your boss started yelling at you to keep dancing. Now when you looked at Bradley, you were no longer smiling.

He called your first name this time as you tried to step over the wet part of the bar and continue to the other end. Bradley saw him before you did. That asshole guy was back, and he smiled as he looked up your skirt. Bradley fleetingly remembered you told him you wore shorts under your skirt, and he really hoped you had them on tonight. But that wasn't the end of it, because now he was reaching out for your foot.

"What the fuck?" Bradley shouted, handing his glass to a stranger as he tried to get to you. With that asshole's hand firmly wrapped around your ankle, you started to waver. You were nine feet up in the air, surrounded by glass bottles, and he knew he was closer to you than any of the bouncers.

"Stop it!" you shouted above the music as you tried to pull yourself free, but that guy was unrelenting. You took one more awkward step before your body turned sideways. You were about to fall off the bar. Bradley fought his way forward as you tried to correct yourself, but it was too late, now it looked like you were going to land on your wrist on the bar, and probably break a bone.

Bradley lunged just in time, and thankfully you saw him. You trusted him, and right now he could see that fact in your eyes. You let yourself fall forward into the crowd. Into his open arms.

"Oh my god, Bradley!" you gasped as your arms wound around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clinging to him. You were shaking.

"I've got you," he promised as the song played on. He wanted to throw that guy up against the wall, but he was too content holding you to him as you buried your face against his neck. Letting go of you wasn't really an option. He wrapped one big hand around your thigh while the other squeezed your waist. "I have you, Sparrow."

Jake and Javy were there now, and Bradley nodded to the guy who grabbed you. He'd let them take care of it, because now your lips were brushing his ear. "That was terrifying," you whispered, and someone finally changed the song while another dancer climbed onto the bar.

Bradley made the decision to carry you outside into the cool night, walking slowly down the block where it was quieter as you caught your breath. "Are you okay now?" he asked softly.

You nodded against him, and when he adjusted you in his arms, you quickly whispered, "Please don't put me down yet."

"I won't," he promised before pressing his lips to your collarbone. You whimpered, and he couldn't help it. He said, "I don't ever want to put you down. And for the record, I don't want you to dance here anymore either. I never wanted you to."

You lifted your head away from him, and Bradley practically melted as your fingers tugged through the hair at the back of his head. Your lips were pouty, and your eyes were trusting as you asked, "You never wanted me to?"

"Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

He knew he had to say it and risk ruining everything, because pretending like this friendship with you was enough was actually hurting him now. He looked at your pretty face as he said, "Because I'm in love with you. And I'm selfish and jealous, and I don't want a bunch of other guys watching you dance around in this little outfit. Dancing around to my song."

"Bradley." You leaned closer, and you didn't stop until your lips were on his. This was better than he thought it could be, already so comfortable around you. Already addicted to your voice and the way you felt in his arms. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you kissed him, parting his lips with yours until you were tasting him. When you pulled away with a little moan, you whispered his name again while you ran your thumb along his mustache.

"Why did you dance to that song?" he demanded gently.

You pressed another kiss to his mouth before you said, "It made it less scary to get up on the bar when I was listening to a song that reminds me of you."

"Why?" he demanded again.

Then you very easily and simply said, "Because I'm in love with you, too."

"Honey," he sighed against your lips, smiling this time as you slowly unwrapped your legs and slid down the front of his body. Once you were standing on your own, Bradley let his hands fall to your hips, and you wiggled yourself snug against his body.

You felt just like his shower fantasies and all of his other fantasies, if he was being honest with himself. He thought about you all the time. You nibbled on his lips and dragged your fingers through his hair until he was frankly afraid he was going to get hard in his jeans right here on the sidewalk. He pried his lips from yours, making you pout, and he chuckled as he said, "Sparrow, you're killing me."

Your pout grew more pronounced as you said, "I want you to call me Honey again."

His smile must look ridiculous now as he said, "Honey."

"That's better," you said as your lips curled into a grin. "Let's get out of here."

"Do you think you should go back inside first?" he asked, hoping you'd just ditch the whole thing with him, but you nodded in response.

"Yeah, good idea. I'll go quit in person," you said, taking his hand in yours.

He stood his ground in response, and you weren't able to move him, but one tug on your hand and you were headed right back to his arms. "Excellent. As soon as you do that, we can talk about how we aren't friends anymore."

"We're not?" you asked, and as soon as that pout started returning, Bradley leaned down and kissed you.

"Hell no," he whispered against your lips. "You're gonna be my girlfriend. And I'll be your boyfriend. And I'm going to take you back to my house. And this time when I carry you to bed, I'm going to stay there with you all night. If that's cool."

"It's so cool," you promised him, and this time when you tugged on his hand, he followed you back up the sidewalk. "It's almost as cool as a man in his thirties who has a keyboard."

----------------------------

You were honestly impressed by the way the other guys weren't phased at all. Maybe it was obvious that you and Bradley belonged together, but none of them found it surprising that you were suddenly a couple. It really wasn't sudden at all in your mind though. There was a slow build of trust and appreciation over time that turned physical as soon as Bradley admitted he was in love with you. And four months later, none of it had let up. In fact, you couldn't get enough, and neither could he.

"That's it?" he asked, pointing to the single box left in your trunk.

"That's it," you told him as you picked it up. And then he picked you up and carried you toward his house while you laughed. You passed the planter boxes full of flowers and went through the pink door.

"Then it's official. You live here now. Welcome home, Honey."

"Oh please," you replied as he set you down. "I've been unofficially living here for months."

"All thanks to DJ Insomnia," he whispered, leaning down and placing an absolutely filthy kiss on your lips.

You moaned. "I owe him so much."

Bradley shrugged and said, "I think we would have eventually arrived at the same conclusion regardless."

"What conclusion would that be?"

"That you're in love with me."

You wanted to deny it, but you couldn't. "Help me unpack the rest of my clothes and shoes so we can explore another one of your shower fantasies."

Bradley moaned and said, "Absolutely. I'll meet you in the bedroom. I just need to get something first."

That's how you ended up putting your clothes on hangers while Bradley resurfaced a few minutes later with his keyboard. Instead of helping you in any way, he sat on the bed and started playing Whole Lotta Love.

"I asked you to help me," you told him with a laugh as you tossed a pair of your shorts at him while he played. "You're worse than DJ Insomnia."

"Just for that, you get a remix too."

---------------------------

I'm not exactly sure how "Sneak Peek: Bradley's Version" ended up happening, but I hope you enjoyed it. I might like it even better than the Jake fic! Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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sanipoyo · 3 months ago

Text

WAS IT CASUAL WHEN… PART TWO

note - this was heavily requested! it’s a continued version of this piece if you haven’t read it, i would before reading this! enjoy my loves :3.

you and sero had been really hitting it off and TODOROKI did not like this at all. although he was supposedly in a relationship now, you still have a very valuable place in his heart. he doesn’t know why he got into a relationship unprovoked without talking to you, knowing he’d been stringing you along for awhile. you and sero had started talking a bit right after todoroki practically ditched you for someone he’d only known for a week, but you were still hurt about it so you were distant towards sero. it’s been about 2 months since then and you’re over it now. you told sero about how things with todoroki ended and he reassured you in every way possible, you were lucky to have him because he was so understanding about everything. “i wouldn’t do that to you, i promise”, he said holding his pinky out waiting for you to intertwine your pinky with his. you hooked your pinky finger to his and smiled. shoto definitely regrets what he did, as he watches you be loved the way you deserved to be from afar.

it had been about a month since you stopped talking to KAMINARI. today, you were in class and got assigned a group project. you and ojiro got partnered together for it and kaminari didn’t think anything of it. but as y’all began to work, he heard how much you laughed and talked to ojiro. he felt his chest tighten, making it hard for him to focus on his project. “you alright?” his partner, tsuyu asked him and he profusely nodded. “yeah, yeah, i’m good! just brainstorming.” he rambled on, still overhearing you hit it off with ojiro. denki chewed on his bottom lip as he thought to himself; he knows he said he didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you but seeing you act the way you acted with him towards someone else made him feel sick to his stomach. even if you were just being friendly and having conversations, he used to be the only who made you laugh like that, the only person whose head you’d talk off. he wishes he could go back in time and change what he said to you but he wasn’t going to try and come back into your life after hurting you.

SHINSO sat in class, thinking about how he treated you at the mall, full of regret. he wanted to apologize to you, so he made it his mission to talk to you after class. when the bell rang, he hurriedly made his way out to the hallway, seeing you talking with kirishima. he furrowed his eyebrows when he saw you laugh and put your hand on his bicep. once kirishima made his way to class, leaving you alone, shinso approached you. “you into muscular guys now?” shinso hummed and you looked over, shocked to seem him next to you “what do you mean?” you asked him, his eyes trained on the ground. “i saw you grazing his muscles”, shinso said mocking your actions. “so? it’s not like we’re dating”, you quoted him. you were being petty, which he expected because it’s one of the things he loves about you. “i’m sorry”, hitoshi said lowly, now looking at you. “i don’t want to lose you, i was being stupid.” he added and you sighed. “i agree, you were being stupid. but i forgive you.. for now.” you said, rolling your eyes and he lit up. he pulled your favorite candy bar out of his pocket and placed in your hand, “thank you for putting up with me.”

jealous wasn’t even the word, BAKUGO was infuriated seeing midoriya seated next to you, sparking up conversations and seeing you giggle at him. of course, you and deku were just friends but something about him putting a smile on your face struck a nerve with bakugo. a couple minutes later, izuku excused himself to the bathroom and bakugo decided to take that opportunity to warn him not to talk you, he waited outside the bathroom for deku to finish, startling him when he came out. “kacchan! what’re you-“, midoriya began before getting cut off by bakugo. “don’t talk to them anymore, got it? you’ll distract them from getting better and improving.” bakugo stated and simply walked away, leaving midoriya in the hallway confused as to what bakugo was talking about. katsuki wanted to be with you, but he also wanted you to be the best you could be and he was worried he was stopping you from achieving that. so from here on out, he’d make sure no one got in your way.

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toms-cherry-trees · 1 year ago

Text

Safe In Your Arms || Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Summary: There is only one person whom the Prince can find comfort with

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+, lactation kink, mommy kink, p in v sex, handjob, edging and denial (m receiving), overstimulation (m receiving), implications that Aegon was beaten as a child, Aegon being a sad little meow meow, minor character death,

Author’s Note: First time writing Aegon y'all!. But this idea had taken root in my brain and had to be delivered. Thank for to my lovely honorary wifey @aemondsbabe for brainstorming with me and giving me the seal of approval at an ungodly hour. I hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @fairysluna

The embrace catches you by surprise, a pair of strong arms circling your waist and a nose nuzzling your neck, inhaling deeply the scent of your skin. A large hand cups the round weight of your breast, clumsy fingers unsuccessfully trying to undo the buttons of your servant’s dress. The other lays flat against your belly, pushing your body flush against the prince standing behind you. You try to halt his movements, eyes darting around the nursery to ensure your privacy, even though you knew the children have gone out to the Godswood with the Queen and Princess Helaena. Still, you need to make sure no prying eyes will come across you two. You will not be the first servant the prince laid with, nor the last, but gossip would spread nonetheless if Aegon is found being so amorous with his children’s wetnurse.

He has already opened the first two buttons when you decide to stop him, gentle but firm fingers holding his own and pressing his hand against your heart. A small groan of discontent escapes his lips, and you can picture the scowl in his face without looking at him. He complies and abandons his efforts, but doesn't let go of your body, keeping you caged on a grip tighter than usual. You two linger like that for a few moments, surrounded by a comfortable silence. You could stay like that, but you know that something particularly bad has to occur for him to seek you during the day and with such desperation.

“My Prince?” You try to crane your neck to lay eyes on him, but he only groans again and buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing featherlight kisses to your flesh. You feel dampness on your skin, like tears dropping slowly from his lashes.

With a bit of struggle you turn around, still trapped in his arms. You try to make him look up but he refuses, hidden into you like a cranky child. Over time you have learned how to read him, as easily as an open book laid out before your eyes. He has his way with words to brazenly flirt, jest and argue, but never to express his feelings, especially when they overwhelm him. He just tries to show with actions what his mouth refuses to say.

Tenderly, like you would do to one of the children in your care, you force him to look up and meet your gaze. Red rims his eyes, violet pupils glossed over with unshed tears, the imprint of a slap still fresh and inflamed upon his cheek. You need not ask to know he has once more been caught in an altercation with his grandsire and mother, one in which he stood no chance. He never has a chance against them and the great plans they have for him, plans in which he has no say nor desire.

“Go to your bedchamber” You murmur quietly, two fingers pressing against his lips to stifle the protest that has already formed “I will be there shortly.”

Begrudgingly he drops his arms, quietly exiting the nursery, shoulders slumped and gaze downcast. You quickly finish your current duties, instructing another maid to cover for you as you make way to his chambers as discreetly as possible, excuses ready upon your lips should someone question your presence away from the children. But no one looks at you twice amidst the hustle and bustle of the Keep, and you find his door unguarded and unlocked.

Aegon has already thrashed the bed in a fit of anger, the blankets scattered around it while he lays under a sheet, still fully dressed and shoes still on. He clings to a pillow like a child to a beloved toy, although by the way he does it, so tight his hands touch his own arms, you think he is trying to actually hug himself, give himself some of the love he rarely got. You sit by his side, a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. He takes your hand, fingers tight around your wrist as he brings it up to his face, pressing your soft palm to his reddened cheek. He closes his eyes, and you notice yet more tears beading on his lashes, and the characteristic wobble of his lower lip.

“Let’s get you comfortable, yes?” Soft tone and gentle words, a speech used many times before with him. You have been there a plethora of times with him drunk, hungover, crying, covered in spilled wine and his own waste. And time after time you have cleaned him, changed his clothes and dried his tears. You have snuck his soiled sheets and clothes to the laundresses, since you know his maids report his every word and action back to his mother, and you want nothing more than to spare him to the best of your abilities from his elders’ wrath.

Some nights he clings to your body desperately, his fingers digging on your hips as he begs you to stay. And you comply, unwilling to pile more sorrow on him and incapable of denying anything to those wide, sad eyes.

He doesn’t say word, but you don’t need any to heed his call for help. You undress him easily, unbuttoning his doublet and undoing the laces of his breeches, leaving his clothes carefully folded on a nearby chair, the boots neatly by the side. When he remains in only his linen shirt and smallclothes, you put the bed together around him, tucking the sheets and smoothing the blankets as you quietly sing a lullaby, the same you use to put his twins to bed every night. It has the same calming effect on him as it had on them; the soothing of your voice halting his tears and making him relax his posture as he lets himself be cared for and pampered by your tenderness.

Once he has settled comfortably, you lay by his side. Aegon immediately scoots closer to you, his head burrowed against your bosom and one arm draping around your waist. You trace his swelling cheekbone with featherlight touch. Whoever has slapped him has put quite a lot of anger into it, most likely his grandsire. It is not the first time things have gotten physical between them, and most certainly not the last. It seems the Hand thinks he can beat his grandson into the Prince he wants him to be.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Aegon often chooses to seek comfort and just push his problems to the back of his mind, but you still encourage him to voice his woes. More often than not he prefers to remain silent, but you always offer him the space to speak freely and without consequences should he want to. To know he won’t be judged or chastised, and he will only be met with the tenderness he deserves.

Long seconds linger in absolute silence before his voice breaks through, weak and constricted “They have found me a bride”

You only nod, not needing to ask more. Ever since Aegon’s first wife had passed, scarcely 3 nights after the birth of their twins, his grandsire and mother had pushed him to pursue another wife, a lady from a strong House to garner their support when the time came. Originally his mother had wanted him to marry Helaena, to strengthen his claim to the throne, but then the King intervened. The only time he put his foot down instead of letting his council rule on his behalf, and he did it to betroth Aegon to a branched out lady of House Velaryon, while promising Helaena to Aemond. While the siblings’ marriage flourished, Aegon found himself tied before the Gods to a woman he couldn’t love, to the extent it took 6 years for them to conceive, and she only lived enough to name them.

At your silence, Aegon clings tighter to your body, his freshly blossoming tears dampening the front of your dress “I don’t want to, they can’t make me” His sniffs, and you notice him pressing his lips tightly together to force himself to be quiet.

You shush him, smoothing back his damp hair “You have to, sweetling. You are a Prince, and you have duties to your mother and family” Your words make him tense again, fisting your dress as he exhales loudly through his nose.

“I have no duties, I am not the heir, I am just a failure they are stuck with. I’ve done everything they wanted of me, and still my mother won’t ever look at me with pride” Another conversation had one and a thousand times. As the firstborn male, all eyes turned to him when the King’s health began to fail, and even though he still lingers, he hangs only by a very fine thread. And the Hand has everything prepared to land the crown upon his own bloodline, whether his grandson wants to or not. And he most certainly doesn’t want to.

You don’t argue, knowing that any attempt of contradicting him would only circle you back to the same arguments. You only let him speak, let it all escape his chest. But he has few words that day. There’s not much to say that has not been said already.

“Father never loved me. Grandsire only sees me as something at his disposal to use at convenience. Mother does not love me any more than what she is obliged to” His eyes meet yours, wide and adorable and terribly sad “I only have you. Just you. If they make me marry I won’t let you go. You cannot abandon me” His words carry an urgency and fear you hadn’t heard on him before. A deeply rooted terror of losing the only person who has not touched him with violence

You press tender kisses to his forehead, your touch gentle and warm “You will always have me, sweet boy. To the end of times. If they send you to the end of the world, I will be right behind you, taking care of you. If they put you on the throne, I will be at your feet as your most loyal servant”

Those reassuring words coax a smile out of him, a smile only meant for you. It is not often these days that Aegon is seen smiling, only in rare instances when he is with his children or with Sunfyre. All the others are reserved just for you.

Another comfortable silence lingers between you two, eyes locked with one another as your fingers card through his blonde tresses, his breath becoming a little sharper every time you accidentally tug on a knot. His hands snake up your front, stopping just in the curve of your breasts as he waits for your permission. You easily undo the very first button, allowing him the pleasure of doing the rest.

It takes him no time to have the front fully unbuttoned, pushing the fabric away to reach the object of his desire. The dazzled look he gets on his face whenever he stares at your bare breasts never fails to amuse you, as if he is staring at the most wonderful thing the world has to offer. His lips quickly find home around your perked nipple, releasing a satisfied sigh as he suckles at your milk, his hand cupping the free breast and massaging it lovingly, swiping his thumb over the hardened peak. You let out a content sigh, settling comfortably on the pillows as you watch Aegon nurse enthusiastically, barely stopping to breathe.

It had been after one of his many nights out that he first found comfort that particular way. Smelling of cheap perfume, even cheaper spirits and covered in vile things you didn’t wish to identify he had returned, and once more you had been by his side, putting his broken pieces back together and trying to not let his cracks be seen by the world the next morning. His hands had roamed your body, as they often did, a touch you glady allowed; he had never once done one thing you didn’t let him do, not even while being so deep in his cups he couldn’t say his own name. He had rested his face against your bare chest, inhaling deeply the musk of your skin while he toyed absently with your breast. A sharp pinch to your nipple had coaxed out some droplets of milk, which he collected on his thumb and brought to his lips. He repeated the process several times before crossing eyes with you, searching your face for any sign of rejection, but you only smiled and helped him get comfortable in your lap as he latched onto your breast for the first time. Nothing could quite calm him like that afterwards.

The prince at your breast lets out small sounds of satisfaction and content sighs as he grips your flesh tenderly, massaging it to coax more of the rich liquid to come down. At first you think he is relaxing and perhaps close to falling asleep, but then you notice his free hand down his body, palming his erection over the sheet. His teeth graze the engorged bud of your nipple ever so delicately, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. Heat starts to pool in your lower belly, accompanied by a growing dampness between your thighs. You rub them together discreetly, seeking some form of friction as you continue to watch Aegon clumsily touch himself, trying to balance his need for pleasure with the attention he is lavishing upon your tits.

His whines take a desperate edge while he humps his own hand, his movements faltering since he doesn't know where to focus. Instinctively your hand moves slowly down his torso and under the sheets; you gently push his away and wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few tentative pumps.

“Do you want Mommy to take care of this?”

Both of you stop for a moment, eyes wide, and he even drops your breast in shock. He had very occasionally called you ‘mommy’, mostly ironically when you had ordered him around, or more intimately when you did certain things like tug on his hair or grip him a bit tighter. But you had never used the term that way, and by the way his cock throbs in your hand, the idea excites him as much as it does you. You give him a firm squeeze, making him jump on the bed

“I asked you something, sweet boy. I taught you how to use your words. Do you want Mommy to take care of your problem?”

Aegon swallows visibly, eyes still wide. His lips move rapidly, but no sound comes out other than a pathetic mumbling as he tries to unscramble his brains. He finally gives up and just nods, looking up pleadingly. But you don’t cave in and give him a firmer squeeze, earning a whimper from him

“Words” You say firmly, but without sounding too harsh. You don’t want to take him too far and make him scared. But you are also deeply curious on how far you can take this little jest.

It seems to take all his strength to push out every word “Yes Mommy, please” He sounds so small and defenceless, bordering on innocence. If you didn’t know him much better you would believe him a man that has rarely laid with women.

Encouraged, you stroke his hard cock slowly, swiping your thumb across the leaking head to gather the already forming drops and smearing them down his length. Aegon’s hands are everywhere, on your face, on your breasts, on your shoulders, pushing the rest of your dress out of the way to free more of your skin. He grips your hips, squeezes your thighs, seeks in your body an anchor to life as his face scrunches in pleasure. His breaths become ragged and you see his abdominal muscles tensing as he approaches climax. But as soon as you feel the familiar twitching you let go of him, your hand resting on the curve of his thigh.

His eyes shoot open and he half sits, staring at you with a mix of desperation and indignation. He whimpers quietly, shifting his hips to try and get under your delicious touch again, but you slap his thigh gently to keep him still.

“No moving. Mommy is taking care of you and you don’t move unless I say so.” Your tone is low, whispering the words as you press your forehead against his, gazes locked on each other. The black of his eyes has widened, making the purple seem darker, and the tears have dried at last. All that remains is lust mixed with submission, all of it just for you.

You gently caress his stones, watching in amusement as gooseflesh spreads across his skin at the touch, his legs instinctively spreading wider to grant you better access. You trace your index up his length, following the path of the throbbing vein prominent on the underside of his cock, while he fists the sheets, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You lean down to kiss him, letting him drown his moans against your welcoming mouth when you finally pump him, keeping the pace steady.

Again you stop just seconds before he reaches climax, earning an even more desperate whimper from him.

“Mommy, please, it hurts, I want to-” His words are cut short when your free hand takes hold of a fistful of his hair, just enough to feel the pull in his scalp. The moan comes from the depths of his chest when you brush your lips against his ear.

“Are you a good boy? A good boy for Mommy?”

He nods eagerly, his hands cupping your face to keep you close.

“I will be good Mommy. Please, please it hurts” His eyes gloss over, and his lower lip trembles again. He looks so pretty you struggle in your heart to carry on with this little game, even though he seems to enjoy it. And you are enjoying it too, so much you feel is unfair you are missing out on the best part.

You pull away just enough to drop your dress to the side, your smallclothes following suit. With Aegon flat on his back, it is easy for you to straddle his hips, letting the head of his cock snuggle in your slick folds. He sucks in a sharp breath when you rock your hips, gliding the heat of your cunt along his length. You take a slow pace, dragging out the moment as much as possible. But while you are in no rush to finish, Aegon is in a desperate hurry, pushing against your hips and mewling desperately to urge you on. When he tries to grab your hips you smack his hand away and lean in, so close your breaths mingle.

“Stay still, sweet boy. You don’t want Mommy to get angry and leave you like this, do you now?”

“But Mommy” He pants heavily, beads of sweat gathering in his temples “I need it, please. I will be good. I need to be inside you. Please”

You click your tongue, a smirk pulling at your lips. You smooth back his hair and press a kiss to his hairline, an almost soothing touch.

“You have been such a good boy for Mommy, so good. But you have to keep being good and do as you are told, sweetling. If you are extra good, Mommy will let you spend inside her”

With that promise in mind, Aegon does his best to stay still, but you don’t make it easy for him. The rhythm is tantalisingly slow, coming to a halt every time you or him get too close to climax. His desperation grows to uncharted levels, fingers digging on the mattress, fists so tight on the sheets his knuckles turn white, lip bitten so strongly between his teeth it leaves an imprint. Tears bead in the corners of his beautiful eyes and roll down, dampening the sheet underneath. When you stop for the umpteenth time and a sob racks his chest, you know he’s ready.

You sit back on your haunches and watch him carefully. His hair is toussled from how much he has trashed on the bed, his face puffy and tear streaked, the flush of his cheeks spreading down to his chest. His cock is angrily red and leaky, impossibly hard and coated in your juices. Every muscle on his body is tense like a bowstring ready to fire. You touch his taut abs, rubbing the aching muscles soothingly.

“You have been such a good boy for Mommy, so good. You deserve your prize”

The moan he releases as you line his cock with your entrance, sinking slowly until he is buried to the hilt, has surely been heard throughout the entire Keep. Encased in your tight heat, it takes no more than a few rocks of your hips for him to peak, back arching off the mattress dramatically as he screams his release to the vaulted ceilings, painting your walls with his spend. But you are not quite there yet. You continue to ride him, now at a dizzying pace, chasing your own release. His whines reach a new high, having barely time to recover from his groundbreaking climax. His abused cock is almost too sensitive to touch, and the drag of your cunt around him feels like fire climbing up his spine; the most deliciously tortuous fire.

Your hips and thighs begin to ache from the exertion, but you are so close, and seeing your sweet Prince so ruined it's definitely spurring you on. You shift your angle just a bit, so the head of his cock brushes against a certain spot inside you that makes you feel like you can touch the stars, all while your fingers circle your neglected pearl. It takes no more than a few thrusts before you climax, your walls tightening around him and somehow drawing out a second peak from him, even though you are sure he doesn’t have much more left to give you. You ride out your release, halting only when the burning on your thighs becomes too much to ignore.

You slide off and lay next to Aegon, who appears to still be waiting for his soul to return to his body. His eyes are wide, some stray tears still rolling, his breaths heavy and slow. When he whines quietly and turns to you, you reward him with a sweet smile and a tender, brief kiss upon the lips. Aegon snuggles into you, just like he likes it best, his face buried in your cleavage as he catches his breath. You rub his back in slow, soothing circles; he closes his eyes, his lips seeking and finding your nipples once more

While he suckles you lean closer, tracing his features with your fingertip

“You were such a good boy. So good for me. Mommy is so proud of you”

The gentle praise goes straight to his heart, that much you can tell in the way he hugs you with his entire body and the upward turn of the corner of his mouth. You know he is tired, and perhaps his body is urging him to sleep. But to do that he needs one last little nudge

“Mommy will always be with you, my sweet Prince”

#marsie writes #aegon targaryen x reader #prince aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #prince aegon x you #aegon ii targaryen x you #prince aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #king aegon ii x reader #king aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen one shot #Aegon targaryen imagine

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joonipertree · 1 year ago

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To show someone that you care, is a gift itself. | Sugar Daddy Bakugo Series

Where you show Katsuki what a gift can be.

Tags: Artist!reader, very self indulgent, like guys....please buy me watercolour paper instead of Versace. Watercolour paper is stupid expensive. Im also not skilled enough to actually make the gift so--

Pt 1 Pt 3

Katsuki's birthday had been looming when the two of you started going out, like a weighted shadow. You had spent a very long stressing about what to get him with a budget that wasn't even worth a fraction of what he would buy you.

But, like gift giving was Katsuki's, it was your love language as well. And you'd gotten good at getting heart felt things for people. Admittedly, it took a lot of brainstorming and notes upon notes of what to get.

You'd always go overboard to please the people you cared about, afraid that they'll leave if you didn't cross the limits and bend over backwards for them.

Katsuki had always taken care of you, never asked for anything and your love was returned albeit in a quieter and tsundere manner. So the urge to go above and beyond didn't fester for long, knowing that your bare presence made him warmer.

Your gift idea came when he was on the ring, swift on his feet and solid in the rigidness of his body. You'd brought your sketchbook and while you wanted to keep your eyes on your boyfriend, your hands became busy with large curves and sharp flicks of your pencil that brought dark edges .

You'd made at least 20 quick gestures drawings that were more crude representations of movement for you. But with those and the feelings you trapped in your heart, you made thumbnails and chose one to draw large scale.

One where Katsuki's face was partially blocked by his arm and he gave a blow. His elbows were jagged, muscles taut and rippling. And his eyes sharp and cat like.

The charcoal pencils and sticks used to create tapered lines to create hard surfaces was 340 yen. The watercolour pallete used had messy paint splattered everywhere and its lid broken, having been with you for a good while. The coat over the charcoal was 50 yen hair spray that worked just as well as professional sprays.

It didn't cost a lot but your hands were full of care and by the end of it, you hoped that it'd be something Katsuki would at least like. The man could have the world but all you had was you.

You didn't realize that you were more than enough

Katsuki to lost his voice when you handed it to him at midnight, eyes wide as he stared at him but not him. The layers on layers of paint held emotions that he could only describe as love, meticulously hand picked and felt in strokes. He'd seen HD pictures of his fights, seen videos of them where his sweat and pores were as clear as day. The most he'd thought of them were how his form could improve or how cool he looked.

But what you made, it twisted something in his chest and stung his eyes and filled him to the brim with love so warm and overwhelming that his body wasn't big enough to hold it.

You two had been dating for 4 months, Katsuki had spent that time falling in love with you in ways he didn't think possible. He'd fall with every giggle and kiss and ramble and your face when you were concentrating. He'd never said 'I love you', hoping his actions showed it enough, still too scared to speak it in case it was met with hesitance or silence.

But Katsuki had gently put down the canvas, something you that you'd built, stretched and primed yourself. And while you made eye contact with the walls and ceiling, you explained how the only thing you could come up with was the painting, that you wanted to capture the emotions you felt when you saw him fight. That it wasn't much but---

Katsuki had engulfed you in a hug, hand on the back of your head to press it against him and an arm around your waist. He squeezed you, tried to express all that he was feeling with one hug alone. You felt it, held him tightly and carded your fingers through his hair. With his shoulders shaking, you had an inkling that he had been crying. When he spoke, with a wobbly voice, you were sure that he was.

"I love you." He'd muttered out for the first time.

"I love you more." You whispered back and Katsuki had firmly denied it, that no one could love a person as much as he loved you.

Getting a gift for you became hard after that, because Katsuki sucked at making shit.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bnha fic #bnha x reader #bnha headcannons #bnha fanfiction

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bitchlessdino · 3 months ago

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put it in writing (m)

In collaboration with @camandemstudios Pairing: college student!seungkwan x Fem!TA!reader Genre: humor, smut Word count: 7.8k tags: college au, TA x student dynamic, push-and-pull, mentions of TXT's soobin, mentions of Ryan Gosling, a lot of fucking lying, explicit content, unprotected sex, hair pulling, cream pies, oral, cum-consumption, pet names (baby, good boy), praise kink Summary: You keep things professional--as you should--even if one of your students is someone you hooked up with one night before the college semester started. Meanwhile, Boo Seungkwan is anything but honest--he's a writer after all--but if he is honest about one thing, it's about wanting to write a new story with you. a/n: thank you @highvern @sluttyminghao and @strxwberry-skiess for beta reading <3 (late note: I wanna thank @gyuswhore @highvern and @haologram for the brainstorming if I forgot to mention anyone I’m sorry. They’ve been a really big help and we’re super motivating and supportive the entire process I love yall 💕)

You don’t go out. Period. As simple as that.

Until tonight.

Summer is almost over, and once it ends, you’ll be Professor Yoo’s newest TA. You've worked hard to get to this point and despite the inevitable late-night grading sessions, you expect the experience to be rewarding and maybe even inspirational. You’re sure this achievement would make your academic-forward parents proud. Their daughter, at the top of her class, brimming with excitement and potential, jobs coming in from left and right, all while on her way to...a Writing degree.

The one downside: they didn’t believe a writing degree would lead to anything substantial. Not like Biomedical engineering or Accounting. The one degree worse than Art. You almost forgot that writing was useless in their eyes because who couldn’t just pick up a pen and paper to scribble some words down?

You down another cheap shot of tequila, muttering your grievances under your breath as your friends revel in the club's pulsating atmosphere. They are only mildly concerned with your drinking habits, accustomed to your tightly wound, studious nature. Typically, you are the one buried in textbooks, rarely venturing into the party scene. Yet tonight, you surprise them all with your ironclad liver, effortlessly downing shots without a hint of a stumble.

“You, okay?”

You scoff, taking yet another shot, “Really depends what that means. ‘Okay’ as in life or ‘okay’ as in financially, mentally, emotionally, sexually, and-slash-or physically fulfilled with proud parents that love me unconditionally?”

“Oh, boy.” Hyeri tries to tear you away from any more alcohol and lays you flat against the back of the leather booth, twisting the top of a water bottle before putting it on your lips. “Let's get you hydrated, hmm? Can’t have you hungover the next day. I’ll be the one you’re complaining to.”

“Suffer my consequences!”

“Of course, darling.”

Hyeri, your steadfast friend since high school and now a new TA from another university, is like a sister to you. She knows your every habit and inclination, no matter how shit-faced you decide to get. “Don’t look, but there’s supple skin, high cheekbones, and a pretty smile looking directly at you.”

You subtly fix your gaze and accidentally meet the young man’s eyes as he nurses a highball glass between his lips. His eyes narrow back at you with interest. You muse back at him, mimicking his action with the water bottle in your grasp. As you drink with your eyes glued on his expression, the water passes over your lips, with the excess trickling suggestively down your chin and neck, your skin glistening in its sheen.

His lips part, dropping in a smug smile–and my, was it prettier than anticipated–and tilt his head as if quietly beckoning you closer.

“I’m going over there.”

Before you could get up from your booth, Hyeri is there to immediately tug you back down, eyes full of concern. “Are you sure, hon? You had quite a bit to drink.”

Your eyes crease as you smile back at her reassuringly. “I’ll be fine.”

“He looks young, he probably doesn't even know what a 401k is.”

“Do any of us?” You leave off before striding in the direction of the pretty boy, who still can’t keep his eyes off you.

You weave through the sea of sweaty bodies, sidestepping spilled drinks and the pulsating lights of the dance floor, your eyes locked on him. His gaze trails you with every step, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes, speaking to you like an incantation. When you finally reach his feet, the distance closing with each heartbeat, his smile grows wider, more inviting. The moment your legs brush against the softness of his leather couch, he leans to maintain your locked gaze, a now more playful glint in his eyes. Your smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Is this seat taken?”

“Only by you if anyone else asks,” he smoothly responds.

You gently lower yourself beside him, lifting one leg to cross it over the other, feeling the cool leather beneath you. His eyes follow your every movement, lingering on the curve of your thigh as it presses against the other. You lean in slightly, your curiosity evident in the arch of your brow. “Why all alone? With a face as pretty as yours, I’d expect someone to be all over you by now.”

He shifts his body toward you, his eyes drinking in your appearance, savoring every detail from the whip of your hair and to glitter on your legs. Meanwhile, the subtle spicy sweet scent of his cologne mingles with the ambient aromas of the club, and you can’t even breathe the air without the desire to jump his bones. Especially one in particular.

He regains his smile, a slow, confident curve of his lips, and extends a hand toward you. “I could say the same for you. I’m Seungkwan.”

You take his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch and the gentle caress of his thumb against your knuckles. With a graceful nod, you gave him a firm handshake. You return the gesture by introducing yourself, your voice smooth and inviting, matching the rhythm of the music that pulses around you, and that seems to only grow his interest. “What a pretty name. You’ve been here long?”

“Just long enough,” you say, your voice carrying a playful challenge.

“What is it that someone like you does to want to let loose in a place like this?”

“Mmh, I don’t know. It really depends on how much you’re willing to share,” you reply, narrowing your eyes and taking in that body begging to be undressed.

“Well, if you must know, I work somewhere…uncommon,” he says, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

You lean in too, resting your elbow on the back of the couch and propping your chin on your hand, your fingers lightly brushing your lips. “Do tell, Seungkwan.”

“Don’t be surprised, but I’m a bit of a big deal, especially around here,” he brags.

You raise an eyebrow, ready to bite. “That’s very vague. Mind elaborating?”

He briefly shifts his eyes to glance around the room, the smile never leaving his lips. He leans in closer, his breath warm and tickling against your ear, making it burn. “Just know I know the ins and outs of this club,” he whispers, his voice a tantalizing murmur. “Some information you might find even surprising that no one else knows.”

You pull back slightly, your eyes locking onto his, a spark of intrigue dancing between you. “Sounds like you’ve got some secrets,” you murmur, your voice low and rich. You reach for his drink from the table in front of you, your fingers brushing against his thigh for balance as you lift the glass to your lips. You take a slow, deliberate sip, not minding that its rim has touched a stranger's lips. “How sketchy,” you dare insult with a playful glint in your eye as you set the glass back down.

“Care to find out?”

“What part of ‘ sketchy’ did you not understand?” You softly laugh.

“I promise it’s harmless,” his voice brimming with mischief, poking the inside of his cheek playfully. “Or at least, you’d have a little fun.”

You hum amused. “Define fun.”

He takes you by the hand, his touch firm yet gentle, leading you away from the pulsating dance floor to a secluded corner of the club. The music echoes softly in the background, its bass reverberating through the walls. You follow him through a maze of dimly lit corridors and alcoves, catching glimpses of other partygoers lost in their own worlds.

The air changes as you enter an empty private space, cooler and quieter than the crowded main room. Your eyes fall on a single secluded corner with windows going ceiling to floor, flooding the room with skylight. The faint scent of his cologne lingers in the air, mixing with the faint aroma of alcohol and the crisp air of a cracked open window too high to reach.

As you settle into a seat in front of the windows, you observe the city through the crystal clear glass, drinking in the scene of small tables adorned with flickering candles, and erotic artwork adorning the walls. The music from the main floor is muted here like the world behind closed doors fell silent for this moment, and only you two are left in the room to bask in it. If temptation was room, this had to be it.

There’s a subtle shift in his eyes, a flicker of something unreadable—resembling pride—before they revert back to his calm suavity. He assumes the seat next to you on the plush velvet couch tucked into a private nook that touches the light of the stars. The soft glow of ambient lights casts a warm, intimate ambiance around you, contrasting with the pulsating beats of the club music that drifts in from the main floor.

“It’s a V.V.I.P area,” Seungkwan explains in a low voice, “Some of the employees don’t even know it exists.”

“But someone like you does?” you inquire, your voice tinged with intrigue.

He shrugs nonchalantly, a hint of pride evident in his demeanor as his body dipped into the leather. “I have my way around here.”

“Really?” you tease, growing slowly more convinced.

Seungkwan meets your gaze with a playful grin. “I obviously can’t tell you everything,” he says, his tone brimming with mischief. “Just know that I’m involved in ways that keep this place running smoothly. The club would die without me.”

You chuckle softly, savoring his playful confidence, and leaning against the cushions, head turned to him. “What can you tell me?” you ask, your voice growing softer. Your finger traces a teasing path down the collar of his shirt, undoing a button with deliberate slowness. “Humor me,” you exhale, your breath brushing against his ear and your gaze locked with his.

You can hear his breath hitch, and finally, you have him right where you want him. He fixes on the way your legs cross, tracing the curve of your calf up to where they disappear under the hem of your skirt. He seems momentarily captivated by the subtle movement of your flesh as they collide against each other, giving hardly any brain capacity to cumulate words.

You notice the furrow of his brow, a slight tilt of his head—as if he were mentally dissecting his thoughts. The dim lighting cast shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity in his eyes tried to regain clarity. You can almost visualize the gears turning in his mind, each cog clicking into place as he forms a coherent story, if any.

Each word comes out in complete shambles and he is saying more nothing than anything. Whatever the truth is at this point, you don’t care. Seungkwan is just too cute to pass up.

The clearing of his throat tells you he’s finished, the tilt of his smile growing less confident and more anxious as your weight pushes against his chest. He tries to come back from his stumble, picking off strands of hair in front of your face and playing with their ends before changing the subject. “Now tell me your work. What is so amazing that you do?”

“I’m—“ a teacher’s aid in massive debt on their way to graduating with potentially a useless degree neither of their parents is proud of because, although you love it, you’re too proud to say otherwise, “—a indie movie producer with one of the films up for a reward. Super lowkey right now, but…we got Gosling.” You shrug, impressed with your own lies. “So, things are looking up.”

“That’s quite impressive.” he hums, intrigued and interested in hearing about more. “Is he as nice in real life as he is in interviews?”

“Ryan’s got a screw or two loose, but pretty okay guy. At least not into Scientology or anything.”

“Interesting,” He gaze dips towards you, being drawn to you immensely, if not locking eyes with you, scanning over your features, particularly your lips that wished to be claimed. “You call all big-name celebrities by their first name?”

You shrug, the lying coming more and more naturally than anticipated. “Only the ones I’m close with.”

His palm hugs the curve of your cheek, thumb softly brushing against your bottom lip. “I wonder what getting close to you entails.”

“Are you planning on finding out?”

You give each other a long look, one that keeps waiting and ushering the other until your lips decidedly crash into his. His lips part, making way for your presence, the heat of the kiss flushing your skin and pleased shivers running throughout your entire body. Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth pulling your flesh and a soft sigh escapes his lips before his hand creeps behind your head and muffles a moan that neither were sure from who.

You lift your body from the couch, chasing his pace, and pull him closer, kissing him deeper with all your might. You crawl over his lap, straddling his hips, hands in his hair, breath on his skin. Your chest tightens as he presses you closer by the small of your back, to which you gasp as you part from his lips.

He finds your gaze, his round and glistening eyes meeting yours in soft urgency. “You okay? Something wrong?”

You shake your head, palm clasped against your burning face. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

He lets out an amused scoff. “Keep up, Miss producer.”

Your lips reconnect, and fireworks play in your like it’s the fourth of July. Popping and popping. Your lip lock only intensifies as your tongues brush against one another, entangling deeper and soon you realize Seungkwan wasn’t one just to kiss with his lips.

You ball his clothes in fists when his hands use your hips, running them over his lap, the friction so tantalizing you could hear temptation like a devil on your shoulder. You let him take you, moving towards him replicating crashing waves against sand. Loud. Harsh. Seamless.

Clothes come off soon after, starting with the delicate unbuttoning of Seungkwan’s silk top–donning the torso of one fond of sports and sprayed in excitable perspiration–before then he levers you up and slides slacks down his thighs hurriedly. His bare legs crushed underneath yours, you readily pull up your dress, bunching at your waist as feel him unzip the back, the metal chill against your spine.

“Fuck,” he softly mutters, eagerly digging his fingers in your exposed flesh and whimpering against your kiss. “Don’t hold back with me.”

“Hold back?” you repeat with a chuckle, your fingers that threaded through his hair pulling his head back, angling his head so that he was forced to look up at you in what currently looks to be in awe. “You don’t have to worry about that with me.”

“Shit stirrer, huh? I guess that’s why you’re the one handling production.”

Your lips begin to trail down his jaw, front teeth nipping his skin. “Real question is, would you let me handle yours?”

“I’d let you do anything to me,” he mumbles, earnest in every word, every inch of his body vibrating off yours, including the hardening presence between his legs pressing against your stomach. “Just don’t stop.”

Your dress abandoned on the floor, Seungkwan claiming your tits in either hand, kneading them between his fingers as he’s rolling his hips against your plush flesh and feeling your radiating core slide against his shaft. He involuntarily moans through a bitten bottom lip, imagining you ride him just like this until the end of time, thinking he could cum from this alone until he feels you move the tip of his size towards your entrance. “Oh god,” he gives out, the head of his cock readily grazing over your slit, quickly pleased. “So fucking wet. Fuck…”

“I want you inside me,” you admit, not bothering to subdue your desires. “I want to put you inside me and make me feel every inch of you.”

“Fuck…me…” he presses into your skin flushed against one another, lips curled downward in impatience, gripping your full thighs to either of his sides. “I wanna fuck you so bad. Please give yourself to me.”

“You promise you’ll handle it like a good boy?” You tease, pushing his tip only a centimeter deeper.

“Please, please, anything. I just wanna feel that pussy choke me please.” He begs.

Your hand clamps against the couch enthusiastically, “Fuck you’re so needy. That’s so hot.” Gingerly, you reward his pleas, feeling his raw length make contact with your contracting walls, squeezing around his girth and making Seungkwan flip his eyes before he starts guiding your hips.

“Fuck that’s so good, baby.”

You lightly scoff. “Baby? A little soon don’t you think?”

“Thought we found some common ground when you decided for me to fuck you. My mistake,” he chides.

You catch a tendril of his hair between your fingers, “Maybe it’s how you fuck me that grants you such a term of endearment.”

“Better up my game then.” He lifts you up, tangling your legs around his waist before he pushes you on your back, swiftly slamming his hips against you.

Your head crashes deep into the leather, the musky scent of sex now invading your nose as you drown in heat. “Shit.”

“Making sure I get the advantage.” He folds forward to press against you, your breasts back in his hands before his lips wrap around a nipple, his tongue attacking your sensitivity before he inevitably sucks. He leaves you in an ache, your hips thrusting back into him conveniently in time for him to regain his rhythm.

“S-Seungkwan…”

His moan vibrates against your skin, teeth pulling your nipple as he thrusts deeper, grazing your deep end just perfectly not enough. Fucking tease.

You whine beneath him, squirming. Your legs tighten around him, attempting to make friction, and finding a growl in your throat as a hand of Seungkwan’s squeezes your behind. A whole ass cheek in the clutches of his well-groomed hands, squeezing and memorizing its swell, while he’s splitting you in half to deduce you to a bumbling horny mess.

“Where have you been all my life?” He mumbles with glee.

You clench your fists behind him as he heightens his pace, melting into the tender assault of his lips that burn your skin and silence your voice. He ruts into you deeper, pounding away his frustrations and when he makes it known he’s found your spot, you make it clear as day.

“Oh god,” you groan, gripping him tighter. Your jaw drops slack, silent screams coming out of you, and you cling to him like in desperation to maintain that high as you claw against his broad back.

“That’s so good. Is it right there, am I hitting your spot, baby?” he asks with an exhausted grin.

You nod, softly pleading for more, and he generously grants. In an attempt to intensify your core’s pleasure, his hand cups just above your slit, fingers finding your blossoming bud. Your breath is shot, feeling the caress of his thumb press down before rubbing your arousal around your clit. Your hips thrust into his touch, gripping him by the shoulders, feeling your combined sweat drip from your sides and squeaking against the couch fabric.

“Oh my god, oh my god…” You can’t control it anymore. Seungkwan isn’t just pushing you past the edge, he's shoving you off.

“Like that, baby. Yes, what good girl cumming all over my cock,” he sweetly praises.

You reach him by the back of his head and propel him forward, colliding lips in a fervent liplock. Your moans drowned between one another, your climax coming in tenfold as he didn’t for a second stop, even well after you came.

Yet, it isn’t enough. Seungkwan shifts and tugs your legs to border his torso. He lifts himself from the ground, his feet flat, shutting your legs tight, having the sweat of your thighs chafe against another unsettlingly. It then becomes completely overlooked with his hips, his cock starts pushing in and out of you, and folding himself into you with your closed legs as your pussy choked around his cock. Your walls pulsating around him, hot and lush, he death grips your body and watches your flesh recoil back against him deliciously.

“Fucking shit,” he groans, plunging deeper as your cries moisten your cheeks and he brings you to a foreign level of ecstasy.

His release from what you can tell is thick, warm, and inviting. Your legs find a mind of their own when they decide to lock the stranger in place, feel every ounce of pure pleasure shooting down inside you, coating you in your collaborative efforts, and residing peacefully deep, deep in your sore heat.

Your lover collapses against you, eyes barely managing to open as he guides your bodies in a more comfortable position, his cum and cock still inside you.

He’s softly pant, red on every inch of his face, residual from his raging orgasm and…fluster? “I…I don’t usually—“

“I don’t mind,” you gently reassure, brushing away the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. “I wanted that to happen.”

“But what if—“

“It’s nothing you have to worry about,” you hint and fortunately he gets the clue, cuddling up to you closer.

“Good.” He nods, sounding off in relief.

You play with his ear, thumbing over the flaming red tip. “That was really good.”

The boy can’t help but grin, “I make good on my promises…and if you want, we can do it again.”

Your movement stops. “Oh.” Now you’re panicking. “I don’t think we should.”

His cock slips out of you with ease at your confession, both flaccid and disappointed as cum drips down the leather. “Why not? I thought you liked it.”

You begin sitting up, taking Seungkwan with you. “Of course I do! It’s just…my schedule doesn’t allow me to date—let alone see people outside of work—so, this wouldn’t work.” You offer him an apologetic pat on the back, feeling the muscles pulse against you before you regretfully pull away. “This is actually my last night in town, I was gonna leave soon for another shoot…but this was wonderful.”

You cup his cheek, flushed red and soft as can be, and kiss its fullness, letting your lips linger. “I’m so sorry.” For absolutely lying about everything about me when you gave me the most incredible orgasm I’ve had in centuries and to myself for cutting lose the hottest fucking man fiction and nonfiction you’ve ever fucking met.

“No, I get it,” he answers, a hint of sorrow in his gaze. “You got things going for you. That’s ok. Just let me know when you’re in town, hmm? We can get together again, maybe?”

His sense of hope is admirable, something you saw in yourself a few years ago before the toppling towers of crippling debt fell on you. “I don’t think so, handsome.”

He sighs. “Alright. I get it.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head with a knowing smile. “Don’t be.”

“You ended my vacation the best way you could’ve,” you egg on, “Couldn’t have ended my last night in town any better.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, finally a light flickering back in his eyes. “Then maybe I can give you a parting gift.”

You raise an eyebrow, following his figure leaving your body and find his knees back in the ground and between your legs, “Seungkwan?”

“Can’t have you leave a mess.” His hand glides over your thighs, gaze flickering from you and your cunt oozing in cum, and his full lips kissing your inner thigh, tingling legs and garnering goosebumps down your shins.

“Are you actually—“

His tongue scraps on the skin just next to your lips, a mixture of your climax settling on his tongue, and you mewl at the sight. He kneads your flesh, his moans tickling your skin and admiring it how he knew how: worship.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” His fingers play against your sensitive folds, tension pressed on your clit. “You’re everything I could want…tasting you and pleasing you is the least I could do.”

His mouth wrapped around your lips before sucking, tongue parting what’s between, and sighing at the harmonious flavor dancing inside his mouth. Your worn walls contract around him, it feeds his desire as he pushes his face deeper inside you, and melts at your hands finding hair in soft strokes.

Your voice aches for another release. The sensation of his jaw locking and nodding in your heat as his tongue fucks his cum back inside you drives you to up a wall. You squirm the faster he flicks his tongue, legs pulling back and forward, overwhelmed by Seungkwan’s mouth until he holds either one at either side, locking it around his neck.

His eyes ooze with determination and his face falls from color. The compromising position he put himself in is not one free consequence, but for the last single of the most greatest fuck of his life, losing a bit of oxygen was worth it, and his efforts are soon proven.

When you cum this time on his tongue, Seungkwan has never tasted anything sweeter, or rather bittersweet knowing this would be the last he’d get the chance to. He’s tasting you, savoring you, worshiping you. From the scent of your body, to the face you make, from what you feed him. If he knew how impossibly decadent you just were–only for you to leave–maybe he wouldn’t have done this. Or maybe he would.

Reluctantly, Seungkwan breaks apart from your lips to reconnect with another. One last shared, heated breath of this spontaneous exchange. One that he’d remember for a long time, and think about over long nights. Tenderly, your foreheads are the ones to kiss in a silent farewell, sad smiles on both your faces.

“Thank you…for reminding me what it feels like to live my own life.”

The pretty boy softly scoffs, kissing you once more, the tingle his lips lingering on yours. “Make your stories magical as you’ve made my night. Take care, Miss Producer.”

You quickly get dressed before the sexy stranger pulls you right back in his trace and you drag your friend and club attendee all the way back home, giving you the pleasure of finally resting in bed, body still aching from the sweltering sex hours ago. Sadly, without the warm body you enjoyed so much tonight. He made a lasting impression on you and you hope maybe one day on better circumstances you’ll meet again and the lie may someday be true. If you’re so lucky.

Eventually, summer takes its final laps and you’re entering the college semester and start working closely with the professor you’re aiding. The matter that your life is slowly being sucked away becomes more real the longer you look at his lesson plan and although you love writing, you know you’re about to dread the long evenings of paperwork to come.

The first day of being a TA: get in the building by the car you have barely hanging on, meet with the professor, get in lectures and “TA”, skim through your new work for graduate classes, and sadly eat your late lunch/dinner alone because you know the ziplock of trail mix marinating in your backpack would not be enough. That’s the plan. Easy to follow.

Students start trickling into the classroom about twenty minutes before actual lecture time, some with nervous faces and excited expressions. Then a few minutes before the lecture starts, hoards of students are coming through, the classroom getting louder and louder as there is not enough space for white noise. You feel your heart beating increasingly–admittedly more nervous than anticipated–finding yourself focused on papers to avoid eyes with the other students until you can’t anymore.

With over 100 students, you start to feel like an imposter, a kid playing dress-up in her mom’s closet. Normally, you're not one to get nervous on the first day, but being a teacher’s assistant makes this situation different. You’re terrified of screwing up, whether it’s a big mistake or a small one. You tell yourself you need to get out of your head.

When roll call becomes necessary, the professor hands you the clipboard, forcing you to introduce yourself and make your presence known. Your hands tremble from natural nerves as you call out the names on the list, doing your best to pronounce each one clearly and coherently. Then your gaze lands on a name all too familiar, one that’s been on the tip of your tongue before. You can’t help but look up, eager to hear the voice that responds.

He stares at you, a look of pleasant surprise on his face, his lips curling up at the corners as his eyes gleam with intrigue—just like that night before.

You clear your throat, quickly averting your gaze, and resume roll call. You decide right then to ignore him for the rest of the day, the semester, and possibly the rest of your college career, if you can help it.

When you finish, you don’t dare look up again, telling yourself it’s because it’s the first day. You’ve done everything you needed to do for now.

As the lecture wraps up, it’s time to leave. The professor dismisses the class and exits the room, leaving you to pick up the pieces and answer any lingering questions from students. You just hope this particular student isn’t one of them.

“I had a question, Miss LN.”

You’re reminded that hope is just another word for wishful thinking. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. His voice is already etched into your memory, feeding the part of you that wants to respond, and you clench your thighs at the memory.

“Sure, what… um, what is it?” you respond, still not looking up.

“It’s about the syllabus. I was hoping we could discuss it in private?” His tone carries a hint of something familiar, something that doesn’t belong between a student and a teacher’s assistant.

“The syllabus is pretty self-explanatory,” you reply, trying to keep your voice neutral, though your pulse quickens.

“But I wanted to ask, just in case I misinterpreted anything.”

You make a show of straightening the papers on your desk, the crisp shuffle loud enough to make it clear you’re not amused. “You're a writing major. I’m sure you understand everything just fine.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to check,” he says, a casual shrug masking the intent behind his words.

You sigh, knowing you won’t easily shake him off. Finally, you meet his gaze, catching the anticipation simmering in his eyes. With a resigned breath, you gather your belongings and stand. “Fine, follow me.”

As you lead him to a tucked-away corner, your footsteps echo in the quiet hallway. You glance around to ensure there are no prying eyes before stopping. He waits until you’re both out of sight before speaking, his voice lowering in that familiar way that sends a shiver down your spine. “So, how’s the indie film coming along, Miss Producer?”

Your arms cross instinctively, a barrier against the playful look on his face. His eyes sparkle with amusement, as if this is all a game to him. As if your college career and your career career didn’t hang on the very balance of this conversation and your history. “Very funny,” you reply, glaring at him. “Just two big liars caught in their own webs of lies. How serendipitous.”

He chuckles softly, the sound unnervingly familiar and instinctively arousing. “I know why I lied, but why did you?”

You plant a hand to your chest defensively. “Excuse me, I never anticipated seeing you ever again. It’s natural I’d lie—wait, why did you lie?”

“To get laid. Duh.” He answers as if it was the obvious thing in the world.

You roll your eyes, back knocking against the wall behind you. “Of course, fucking dumbass college boys.”

“You fell for it, so who’s the dumbass now?”

“Still you? Were you even drinking age?”

“Uh, yes that’s how I got in, otherwise they never would’ve let me in.”

Your palm runs over your face in embarrassment, cringing for long nights of thinking of your student of all fucking people. “I fucking knew you didn’t own the Gemstone.”

“Yet, you fucked me anyway.”

You rush towards him, your breath catching as you pin your fingers in front of your lips and hiss, “Will you shut your mouth?”

He crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall, a smug smile playing on his lips. “Why? You’re a TA, not a professor.It’s perfectly kosher.”

“It’s still highly frowned upon to fraternize in that manner, regardless of whether I’m a TA or a professor. I grade your fucking papers,” you shoot back, your eyes narrowing as the frustration rises in your chest.

He just shrugs, that infuriating grin never leaving his face. “Hey, if it gets me a good grade…”

“Or watch me fucking fail you,” you snap, stepping even closer, your voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you ever speak a word about that night again, got it?”

His smile falters slightly, but he quickly recovers, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, geez.”

“Good.”

But he can’t resist one last jab, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “My lips—and pants—are sealed.”

“Seungkwan!” You hiss his name, barely keeping your voice down, your cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and something else you refuse to acknowledge.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, it’s been a while since you screamed my name.”

You grit your teeth and speak through harsh whispers, your patience wearing thin.

“I will drop-kick you if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

He grins wider, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leans in just a fraction. “Like I said, I keep my promises. See you on Wednesday, Miss TA.”

With that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, seething, the echo of his footsteps fading down the hallway. The air still buzzes with the tension between you, and you take a moment to collect yourself before heading back, wondering how you’re going to survive the rest of the semester with him in your class. If all your encounters are like this, you might as well quit now.

As expected, that initial confrontation isn’t the last you see of Seungkwan. While being your student, your forced interactions have become a bit of a spectacle among other students, especially considering Seungkwan stares back at you every lecture like you’re the only two people in the room. His routine of pestering during and after lectures has become something his peers have look forward to and you wonder if this kind of thing is normal for a teacher’s assistant.

It seems to have stirred up varying opinions, even among students from other classes—ones far removed from your department, who typically wouldn’t give a second thought to your work. The rumors have even reached the ears of other TAs, the ones you’ve built strong camaraderie with, turning casual conversations into whispered speculations. Some of those speculations have been harmless, fueled by curiosity and mild intrigue. But others? They’ve taken on more confrontational, and their tense gazes have you questioning just how far these rumors have gone.

But is it really a rumor if its all true?

"So, you and that Seungkwan kid, what's that about?"

You give a grand sigh, the weight of your colleague's curiosity pressing down on you as he peers at you, eyes alight with nosy mischief. His intent is clear—he's fishing for details about your relationship with one of your many students. But Seungkwan is different. Far different, even if you’d never admit that aloud knowing how your reputation would stand.

"Really not your business, bud," you reply, trying to keep your tone light, though it’s hard to miss the edge beneath your words.

Your colleague, Soobin, raises an eyebrow, completely unfazed by your attempt to shut him down. "Funny enough, I’m in the business of making things my business."

You scoff, fingers curling tightly around the handle of your freshly brewed coffee, the warmth of the cup your only source of comfort in this conversation. The rich aroma wafts up, offering a brief distraction. "He's my student, obviously, and he’s going to stay that way."

The words come out sharper than intended, the finality of your tone surprising even you. You take a long sip of the coffee, letting the bitterness anchor you. This conversation is tiptoeing too close to a line you’re not ready to cross.

Soobin raises his hands in mock surrender, though there’s a knowing glint in his eyes. "Okay, okay. No need to be so defensive. Good thing you’re keeping it professional."

"I know that. Why are you mansplaining, Soobin? Don’t you have work to do?"

"Of course. Just wanted to point out—it’d be a real problem if you did."

"Uh, yeah. Obviously."

"Good."

"I just wouldn’t want to lose anything over it."

You narrow your eyes at him. "What now?"

He hesitates before continuing, grinning sheepishly. "Okay, okay. There might be a bet going around about whether or not you and that kid sleep together again."

"What the—again? Again? What are you talking about?" You gape at him, incredulity painting your features as you struggle to process his words.

"Oh, come on, don’t play dumb," Soobin says with an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes. "Everyone knows."

You blink, your mind racing to catch up. "…Everyone?"

"Everyone." He nods emphatically, the corners of his mouth twitching as he takes in your stunned reaction.

Your face falls, and you run a hand through your hair in frustration, your shoulders slumping. "Well, fuck." The words escape you like a dismayed exhale, your voice tinged with disbelief.

"And I bet that you wouldn’t. At least, not until the end of the semester."

"You bet money on me?" You’re seething, anger now directed at him.

"Not money," Soobin says quickly, raising his hands in a defensive gesture, as if to ward off any further criticism. He leans in slightly, his tone taking on a pleading edge. "But seriously, just don’t do it, okay? Be a good TA and a good friend. Don’t sleep with the boy. Just... don't."

You glare at him, incredulous. "I oughta do it just to make you lose."

"Please don’t! It wasn’t money I bet!"

You narrow your eyes further. "What did you bet, then?"

Soobin shifts uncomfortably. "Just... test answers."

"Soobin."

"Please! Just help me win this. I’m begging you!" Soobin’s voice is desperate, his eyes wide and pleading.

“You could jeopardize your scholarships with this kind of bet.”

“So don’t let me lose this one!” His frustration is palpable, his hands clasped together as if in prayer.

“I could just hit you,” you threaten, though the words come out more resigned than menacing.

“But I’m so lovely. Don’t you think?” Soobin’s attempt at levity falls flat, his forced grin barely concealing his anxiety.

“Soobin, this is seriously messed up.”

He continues, undeterred, “The money I could win could buy me a new apartment to rent out. I’d finally be able to move off-campus.”

“This is so fucked up,” you mutter, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I know, I’m literally on my knees here, dude,” Soobin says, lowering himself as if pleading for mercy.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to stave off the growing irritation. “Fine, damn it. Okay. I hope you’ve fucking learned your lesson and won’t pull this kind of stunt again.”

You meet his gaze head-on, your patience visibly thinning. "Are we done here?"

He nods vigorously, a small, almost imperceptible smile of relief tugging at the corners of his lips. "Of course."

As Soobin walks away, you watch him go, the remnants of the conversation hanging in the air like the fading scent of coffee. You take another sip of your drink, this time more deliberately, letting the warmth seep into you. You try to channel your remaining energy into something productive, determined to salvage what’s left of your day. The knowledge of the bet and the weight of your friend’s reputation hanging in the balance makes every decision weigh heavy on your shoulders.

Despite the sprawling campus and the vast number of students, gossip is as vibrant and pervasive as ever. Seungkwan doesn’t help matters, especially with the frequent discussions you’re having about his late assignments. No matter how stern and resolute your tone becomes, he meets you with a gaze that’s both wistful and enigmatic. His eyes, filled with a mix of wonder and intrigue, follow your every movement. They start by meeting yours directly, then drift downward, lingering on your face, then lower, then lower, and finally–

"Are you paying attention, Seungkwan? Or am I going to have to talk to Professor Yoon about you finally dropping the class?"

Seungkwan leans against the auditorium chairs, averting his attention to the sharp expression on your face, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "No, nothing of the sort, Miss TA. Please, continue to lecture me about what an awful student I am."

Your eyes narrow as you cross your arms, forward on your desk, tapping your foot with growing impatience as you shuffle through to gather your belongings. "I will—and starting where your assignments have been showing up several days late. I can’t keep making exceptions for you."

"Why not? You’re so good at making me feel special," he teases, head tilted, his voice dripping with a sultry sarcasm.

Your patience snaps as you sharply tap the stack of aligned papers on the desk, the sound echoing through the room. "Stop it, will you? Your grade is sinking fast, and at this rate, you’ll be repeating the class."

He shrugs, that maddening grin still in place. "Would that really be so bad? You’d get a whole new semester with me."

You scoff, standing upright, pacing a few steps as frustration simmers just beneath the surface. "Are you seriously going to waste your tuition money just to fail? At least pretend to make an effort. Chatgpt exists for students like you I’m assuming."

He tilts his head slightly, eyes gleaming with mischief. "If only someone wasn’t so distracting, maybe I could. You’d understand, Miss TA."

You stop mid-step, spinning to face him, your voice sharp. "Enough. And stop calling me that—it’s like you get off on it."

"Oh, I do." The playful tone in his voice is laced with something else now, something heavier.

Your jaw clenches, heat rising to your face, thighs sealed against one another.. "Your assignments. On time. By the end of this week, or I’ll recommend to Professor Yoon that you drop the class."

"Fine," he mutters, his tone nonchalant, the smirk still lingering lazily on his lips as he halfheartedly stuffs his books into his bag. His movements are careless, and a few sheets of notebook paper slip out, drifting lazily to the floor without him even noticing.

You sigh, bending down to pick them up. As you straighten, your eyes unintentionally flick over the handwritten lines—only for something to catch your attention. You freeze, blinking at the words on the page. "What the...?"

Seungkwan’s demeanor changes in an instant. His eyes widen, and he lunges forward, panic flashing across his face. "Don’t read that!" His voice is more urgent, almost desperate.

But you dodge his grasp, holding the paper just out of reach, your brow furrowing. "What is this? And why is it actually... interesting?"

"Give it back," he says, his tone softer, pleading now.

"Why don’t you put this much effort into your assignments?" you ask, glancing up at him, your curiosity overtaking your frustration.

Before you can react, Seungkwan steps closer, his movements more deliberate this time. He snatches the paper from your hands, but his proximity catches you off guard. He’s standing close—too close—backing you into the edge of your desk. His face is flushed, his breath coming in shallow bursts, and you can see the embarrassment in his narrowed eyes, the tips of his ears burning red.

Your heart stutters in your chest, your breath hitching as the space between you seems to shrink. The air feels thick, charged with something you know too fucking well. For a moment, neither of you moves, your eyes locked like you’re frozen. You’re acutely aware of every small detail—the way his fingers clutch the paper tightly, how his chest rises and falls with each breath, the warmth radiating from him as he towers just slightly over you.

Suddenly, he stumbles, his foot catching on the leg of the desk, and you gasp as his weight nearly knocks you backward. Your hands shoot out, gripping the edge of the desk to steady yourself. Your glasses slip down your nose as you blink up at him, your pulse quickening, his face inches from yours.

"Sorry," Seungkwan mutters, quickly pulling away, flustered as he hurriedly gathers the fallen papers, stuffing them into his bag. "I’ll do the assignments. Just... don’t fail me. And don’t repeat whatever you think you read."

Without waiting for your reply, he storms out of the room, leaving you standing there, your chest heaving, the ghost of his presence lingering in the suddenly too-quiet space.

You try to steady your breath, ignoring how ragged it had become, and the unsettling way your blood pulsed—not just through your heart, but in places you'd rather not acknowledge. You forcefully push those thoughts aside, desperate for any distraction. Tonight, that distraction would be class assignments.

With an iced coffee marinating at the corner of your office desk, the papers in front of you blur as his face flashes through your head. You can’t help but recall the way his lips looked—full and slightly parted, the way his eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and something else entirely. And the warmth of him—how heavy and undeniably right he felt as he leaned over you, his presence lingering even after he was gone.

You shake your head, determined to refocus on grading, gripping the red pen a little tighter. But your mind drifts again, this time to the words you’d glimpsed on that crumpled page. The writing had a familiarity to it, something deeply personal that tugged at the corners of your mind. Reminding you of how much you remembered that night. Specifically how good that night felt.

‘Her whispers, haunting, breath heavy. She gazes at me with eyes full of want, strands of hair falling over her forehead, tantalizing and wild. Her cheek is warm beneath my hand as I pull her closer, our lips meeting, tasting the sweetness of something long desired but never claimed. For this night, she is mine—even if it's only for this night alone.’

Your cheeks flush as the memory hits, the realization settling in with a mix of shock and something you can't quite name. The words were unmistakable—vivid, intimate, dripping with a desire that mirrored the tension between you two. You recognized the inspiration behind them immediately.

He’s writing his own fanfiction. And it’s about you.

Suddenly, you’re not so much thinking about the bet Soonbin warned you about.

#svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #seungkwan smut #boo seungkwan smut #seventeen smut #boo seungkwan #seungkwan #seventeen #seungkwan fanfic #boo seungkwan x you #boo seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan x y/n #seventeen fanfic #seungkwan x y/n #seungkwan x you #seungkwan x reader #seventeen x reader

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asapeveryday · 7 months ago

Text

Fuck The Freshmen (1/2)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Media girl!reader

Warnings: swearing, sexual references, paige is slightly ooc

Summary: Paige seems to be paying a lot of attention to this years freshman, but what you don’t realize is she pays attention to you too.

A/n: not sure if I should do a second part to this or leave it as is..also I got a couple requests for media girl shit so I hope this is good!! I’ll prob do more involving a media girl reader in the future

“Girl… stop staring like that.”

“Shut up, I’m not.” You nudge your friend in response, not taking your eyes off of the people in front of you.

You and your best friend had both had an interest in sports throughout childhood, so when the opportunity to become media girls came up at the University of Connecticut, a school with amazing sports teams, you both took the chance.

Since freshmen year you’ve grown a lot with the D1 Women’s Basketball team. What started as an awkward beginning had blossomed into a family-like relationship with most of the girls, and you had learned a lot in the past four years. Taking pictures during games had been the best part.

You’d gotten so good at it, by senior year you were appointed “student manager” of the media team, basically meaning you ran social media’s and were able to be as hands-on as possible.

Another thing nice about being a senior was mentoring. Just like the players on the Huskies, when new additions came to the media team you enjoyed teaching all the freshies your ways. None of them were as close as you were with the girls, for the most part.

“Wow, this one actually goes hard.” Paige’s voice rings through your ears. She’s leaning into one of the freshmen students, peering at her camera.

“Wait go back to that one. Shit, that’s good. That deserves to go on the instagram.” Paige says, ruffling the girls hair and patting her back.

“Thanks! Means a lot coming from you.” The freshie replies. You watch as the girls face turns pink at Paige’s contact with her. You listen as Paige showers her with endless praises.

“Seriously (Name). Stop gawking at them.” Your friend flicks you.

You shake your head in disapproval. “When I was a freshmen i barely interacted with the team, let alone the seniors.”

Your friend raises her eyebrow. “You sure you’re not just mad that Paige is all over the kid?”

“Super-senior Paige is gross, I’ll say that. But whatever, it’s not a big deal. I was just observing.” You grumble, hating to watch those two interact but unable to tear your eyes away.

“You’re in denial.”

“Pfft, I couldn’t care less.”

Paige’s eyes turn to meet yours, and you quickly look away. You can feel her smirk radiating, even as you turn to leave the gym.

“I’m gonna go get a snack.” You mutter. Your friend just nods.

As you walk to the vending machine outside of the gym, you feel your stomach twist at the thought of the scene earlier. You wish you didn’t care, but you’re all too familiar with the feeling of jealousy.

You pick out your favourite from the machine, but as you’re about to pay you hear a familiar voice.

“Lemme get that for you.”

Paige is behind you, and she pays for your snack before you can object.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You say.

“I wanted to though.” She shrugs in response. Paige looked good as always in her Huskies tracksuit, hair braided and tied back in her usual ponytail. Eyes blue and constantly searching your face for a clue to what you’re thinking. Sometimes even observing your body. “Didn’t take many pictures today, did you?” She asks.

“I don’t take pictures of random practices.” You roll your eyes, she’s supposed to know this but obviously doesn’t.

“Me and the others were brainstorming, and the freshmen got to test out action shots with the cameras.”

“You’ve got some good talent on your team with those freshmen, huh?” She smiles. You almost want to punch her. Paige is taunting you.

You decide to stay unbothered, even though your body is feeling hot with either anger or arousal. Usually it was both with her.

“Yep.”

She raises an eyebrow. “The teams gonna be in good hands when you graduate.” Paige smirks again, an awful know-it-all smirk.

“I want to get to know the freshmen better, since I’m staying another year I feel like I should be closer with them.”

“And how do you plan on doing that, Bueckers? You gonna fuck your way through the whole media team?” You quip. So much for staying unbothered..

She’s startled for a moment, but recollects herself by saying “I would if I could. You wanna go first or last?”

“Eat a dick.” You snap

“Kiss my ass.” She replies.

“I’d rather die.”

Paige scoffs.“You know you’ve thought of it.”

“You’re so fucking cocky.”

“And you can’t admit that you want me.”

You truly seethe at that.

“God, you think everyone wants you. Get a grip.”

“Well I don’t care about ‘everyone’ I’m just tryna get you.” She groans, as if it’s common knowledge.

“If you think I’m the type of girl who’s just gonna let you hit and then carry on with my life then you’re more stupid then I thought.”

“Ion’ know where you got this little idea that I just hoe around, but it needs to stop.” She finally says, no longer joking. She’s basically cornered you against the vending machine at this point. There’s nowhere to go, and if you weren’t so worked up you would’ve felt frozen by her gaze.

“Have you heard the way you talk to me, Bueckers? You don’t talk to anyone else like that.” You cross your arms.

Paige rubs her face, embarrassed. “Because you freak me the fuck out. I don’t know how to talk to you, and you’re just so cute when you’re mad. I can’t help it.”

You say nothing.

“I fucking hate seeing you talk to the others like you’re best friends. I hate the fact that you never talk to me. I don’t know why I fuck it up when you do, you’re just different.”

“Different?”

“Yeah. You’re something else.”

The two of you just stare at each other now. There had always been an untouched tension between you and Paige. The others dismissed it as banter, but you were never quite sure.

“Just don’t lie and say you don’t think about me.” Paige finally says. “I know you think about me. I see the effect I have on you, ma.”

She cups your face with her hand, letting her finger graze over your lip. The two of you stare at each other for what feels like a lifetime before she whispers. “Can we go?”

“And the freshmen?” You cock your head.

Paige gives you a fierce look. “Fuck the freshmen.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #paige bueckers

653 notes · View notes

amyminhminh · 8 months ago

Text

⋆*･ﾟ You ⋆ ☾*･ﾟ:

Tags: Wanderer x reader, gn!reader

Summary: Wanderer misses your presence while you are away and fortunately, you come back home.

──────────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────────────

Wanderer flipped the pages begrudgingly, his tired eyes drooping under the dim light.

Kusanali had made him write more theses more often lately, and not to mention his additional work of helping the young god around Sumeru. Everything was taking a toll on him and he didn’t like it one bit.

His beloved was out at that time. He missed your presence. Your sweet scent. Your voice… Your everything. He just wanted to see your small form slipping through the door of your shared home, tip-toeing on the floor boards to surprise him. He craved to feel your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he finally relaxed in your embrace. That way, he wouldn’t have to worry about anything else.

“Hah…”

Puppets like him don’t experience exhaustion, yet his eyes threatened to close at any given moment. He didn’t want to write theses anymore. The only thing he wanted then was you. And you alone.

He was in a trance, thinking of you. He could feel the presence of your arms snaking their way on his tensed shoulder blades, hugging him from behind. Your intoxicatingly sweet smell tickled his senses. He breathed out in a huff.

“Boo.”

His eyes snapped open as he tensed up. He let his guard down. He would and had never let his guard down like that. But he did.

A head appeared in view and he froze like a statue. He would have activated his vision and attacked at that moment, but his body refused to move.

The thought went away as soon as he recognized the face that he had been yearning for.

“What’s got you so tense? Missed me so much?”

Your eyelashes fluttered at the sight of him working on his theses. He hated writing them but he just couldn’t bring himself to reject Lesser Lord Kusanali. Everytime complaints escaped from his lips, you would always ruffle his hair, treating him like a little kid throwing a tantrum over spilled ice cream. But what a sweetheart you were. You would often offer help if you had time, and he appreciated that.

You were always so kind, so understanding… to everyone. Even to strangers. It made him worry about your safety whenever you had the need to go outside without him. And having been betrayed three times in his life, he wanted you to show your kindness towards only him.

Sometimes he just wanted to lock you up in the house to protect you. To love you. To have all your affection for himself.

“Wanderer? Whatcha thinking about?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Slapping himself internally, he sighed at the overflowing thoughts circling around his artificial mind. He needed to stop with his possessiveness. It reminded him of…

Nevermind. It seemed like he stayed silent for too long.

“Nothing. Just brainstorming some ideas for theses.”

On your plump lips plastered a smile. The same smile he had adored from the first time he met you.

“You seem tired. You should take a rest. And don’t pull the ‘I’m a puppet, I don’t feel tired!’ on me. You sound like that adeptus from Liyue I know.”

Liyue? Adeptus? There you went, going around all places and meeting new people. Not like he could stop you. But he just couldn’t help the jealousy bubbling up inside his body, urging him to take action. Though he wouldn’t do things like those characters in novels. Yanderes… if he recalled correctly. The novel he had read was published by the Yae Publishing House. Yeah, Inazuma. He knew. But he had to admit the writing style was quite… enthralling to say the least. And a bit provocative, he had to add. All of the phrasing in the book made his mind wander to a certain fox…

Back to the point, all of the yandere’s actions were what his Fatui self would do. He as Wanderer would not cage you inside and punish you for being too close to others.

Or would he?

“Hey, you seem out of it today. What’s wrong? Are the theses’ topics too hard to work on? You know what, I’m taking these. You need rest and I, myself will guard by your side so you can have your beauty sleep!”

Your lips touched the tip of his ear like gentle sakura petals fluttering down in the start of spring. The soft breathing of yours sent pleasant vibrations to his body.

“And I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer!”

For a moment, your lips fluttered against his forehead, then his nose, then his cheek. You kissed everywhere on his pale porcelain face. Your kisses were coaxing him to sleep. But you left his lips alone. As if you were teasing him, you didn’t even bother eyeing them.

“Alright. I will freshen up and join you in bed.”

Wait. No kiss?

He could not believe it. His hand rushed to take hold of your wrist and twirled you around to meet his face. Time seemed to slow down as he smashed his lips onto yours, feeling your breath hitch among light gasps.

Two bodies squished up to one another on the sofa. The house was only brightened up by small lamps, competing with the twinkling of the stars in the vast dark sky he once called fake. Beautiful as it was, it could not compare to the sight of you leaning onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck, head leaning back as he peppered featherlight kisses on your neck.

He was suppressing his desire to just throw you on the soft sheets and bury his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent that had his mind go hazy. He could not deny that the presence of you being there had boosted his energy somewhat. The strange grogginess had disappeared the second you came in. He wanted you so badly that it was hurting. But he needed to consider the fact that you had just come home, your rest was necessary. Perhaps he would have to wait until the next sun rose up…

“Wanderer…”

Lifting his head to look into your eyes, he gazed at you as if you were the most enchanting thing in the world. And you are.

“I love you.”

“So much.”

“What’s with the sudden affection?”

A chuckle rose from your throat as his eyes bore into yours, twinkling in the warm light.

“I love you, too. Now, come on… don’t you want me to freshen up? Let go, you big man baby… Actually, minus the big part-”

Before he could react, your frame sprung up from the couch and you sped to the bathroom, not forgetting to stick your tongue out at his face.

“I’m going to get you back for this…”

He huffed out with a sigh. Without noticing, the corners of his lips curled up into a slight smile. This was what he had always wanted. To love you.

And to be loved by you.

──────────────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────────────

Word count: 1162 words

#wanderer x reader #wanderer #scaramouche #genshin #genshin x reader #kunikuzushi #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader

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whoreforjisung · 6 months ago

Text

Pervy neighbor Jisung one-shot ✨

-Might continue the story in multiple parts if people are interested! I still have many ideas when it comes to pervy jisung

-Content / tags / warnings: smut / non-idol au / perv!jisung pining for new neighbor reader / masturbation (m,f) / ji is a little bit of an asshole / non-consensual pictures / one use of “noona” / drug and alcohol consumption / brief mentions of Felix, Minho, Changbin, and Seungmin

-Names are used as faceclaims only, and do not reflect the actions and personalities of real people

-Word Count: 6.2k

-I am very new to tumblr, and this is my very first time writing anything like this, so it is not proof-read or edited. Constructive criticism welcome!

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As a full-time freelance artist, you luckily had the liberty to pack up your cherished belongings and move to wherever you desired whenever you liked. That’s how you ended up landing yourself in Seoul at the ripe age of 24. It might sound silly, but you had a lifelong dream of living in a cozy apartment with a decent-sized balcony area. When a listing popped up during an impromptu trip to Korea, in Seoul nonetheless, for a manageable price, you immediately jumped on it. It was game over as soon as you visited and saw the beautiful balcony with a wrought-iron spiral staircase. After reluctantly returning home, it was hard to contain your excitement in the weeks leading up to your move. You were already eagerly selecting furniture to buy, as well as decorations, and brainstorming ideas on how to use the space as soon as you finalized the lease.

As you finally pulled up to the new apartment, you couldn’t contain the wide smile that crept across your face as you shielded your eyes from the sun, admiring your spacious balcony. Just the thought of being able to curl up at dusk with that book you’ve been meaning to read for ages on the hammock chair you purchased for it, had you teeming with excitement. It kept you in a positive spirit as you lugged boxes containing your possessions one by one up the stairs and into your new home. That was, until you accidentally dropped the large framed painting you were attempting to transport, sending it tumbling down the stairs leaving hundreds of glass shards in its wake. The sudden noise startling your cat, Newt, from his peaceful slumber in his carrier. He reacted with a hiss and a few agitated meows.

“Would it kill you to keep it down? Some of us are trying to WORK here! FUCK!” You look up from your kneeled position on the stairs as you’re scrambling to pick up the glass shards, and your eyes meet a young man with a scowl on his face, leaning over the balcony opposite to yours. He has a pair of headphones dangling around his neck and is clutching a can of beer, fingernails adorned with black nail polish. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve been more careful. It won’t happen again!” You replied as you continued picking up the pieces. “Whatever. Can you do something about your hairball? It’s making my damn ears bleed.” He angrily snapped in response, pointing towards Newt’s carrier. You could tolerate the first comment, but who did he think he was to so directly insult your pet like that? “Just because I caused a minor commotion doesn’t give you the right to be so rude to a complete stranger. Since I’m no longer disrupting you, Why don’t you close the window, remove the stick up your ass, and get back to your oh-so-important work while I quietly move the rest of my boxes into my house. Sound good?” He didn’t seem to have a response for you, instead opting to toss back the remainder of his drink, crushing the can and tossing it directly towards your feet before shutting the window. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your dustpan from the box labeled “cleaning supplies” and swept up the rest of your mess (along with “mystery jerk neighbor’s” added trash) before moving the final few boxes, as well as the cat carrier inside.

You were so grateful the place came furnished, as you promptly slumped down on the green velvet couch, allowing yourself to take a quick breather before taking Newt out of the carrier, letting him explore while you unpacked his necessities and began assembling the cat tree. By the time sunset began to roll around, you had made a decent amount of progress unpacking and building a good amount of your living room and kitchen furniture, including your hammock chair for the balcony. After brewing yourself a cup of tea and grabbing the book you intended to read, you finally made your way to your new outdoor relaxation sanctuary.

After situating yourself in the chair, draping a thin blanket over your legs, and taking a sip of warm green tea, you let out a content sigh as you finally opened your novel, ready to immerse yourself into the story for the next hour or so. You made it through exactly 2 1/2 chapters before “mystery jerk neighbor” made his second appearance. This time, followed by a small white puppy and the unmistakable smell of weed. Now, you normally wouldn’t consider yourself to be the petty type, but his disrespect towards you earlier prompted you to throw some back his way in retaliation. When he took a long drag and proceeded to start coughing up a lung, you shouted “Keep it down would ya? Some of us are trying to READ here!” Mirroring his first words to you. “Oh that’s realll original” he replied with a pained rasp between coughs. Rolling your eyes, you redirected your attention back to your book, assuming that would be the end of the distraction.

A small handful of pages later, a loud “YOOOO FELIX” pierces through the silence as he starts a phone call. Placing a bookmark to save your spot, you close the book and set it on your small side table. After a few minutes you return , donning your noise cancelling headphones. You’d be damned if you were going to let him ruin your highly anticipated reading time after a long and exhausting day. A peaceful 10 minutes later, he retreats back into his own apartment- much to your delight. However, your joy is short-lived as he soon returns with an acoustic guitar slung across his torso and takes a seat. Unfortunately, you quickly realize his strumming penetrates through your headphones. So much for noise-cancelling. Completely losing your focus and not wanting to engage with him any further, you decide it’s time to head inside and get yourself ready for bed. After a much-needed shower to rinse off the sweat and dust that had accumulated on your body throughout the day, you continue your nightly routine. Slipping on a pair of panties and one of your many oversized sleep shirts, you head to the kitchen to finish your cup of tea while absentmindedly scrolling on tiktok. After setting your mug in the sink and brushing your teeth in the bathroom, you finally turn into bed and listen to Newt’s content purrs as he cuddles up to you, both of you quickly drifting off to sleep.

You curse yourself for setting your alarm so early as you’re jolted awake by the incessant, absurdly high-pitched beeping at 8:00 AM. You did have a specific reason for wanting to wake up so early though, as you remember your plans and reluctantly drag yourself out of bed. Your first task of the day was grocery shopping, so after brushing your teeth and twisting your hair up into a claw clip, you threw on a pair of sweatpants with a black cropped hoodie and began your walk to the nearest market.

Arriving after about fifteen minutes, you began working through your ingredients list. You stopped at an herb stall with a middle-aged woman behind the booth. One of your many plans for your balcony space was to install a fresh herb garden, so you engaged in small talk with the seller as you selected various herbs to purchase. “Do you sell cat grass?” You asked. Suddenly, a young man with blond hair springs up from under the counter. “You won’t find any here at the market, but I can show you where to get some!” You’re taken aback by the deep voice that comes out of him, as well as his strangely friendly offer. Sensing your apprehension, the woman adds “Oh don’t worry dear, you can trust him! Yongbok here is our designated neighborhood helper.” She smiles at him as she pats his back. “Oh uhh okay. I have a few more things to grab here first, if that’s okay?” You reply, setting your items down for him to ring up. A few minutes later, you finished picking up the rest of the items on your list and returned to the stall to let him know you were ready. “I’ll be back in about twenty minutes Auntie!” He called back to the woman as the two of you walked away.

You found it surprising how talkative he was. He told you his name was Felix, he grew up in Australia, but moved to Korea when he was seventeen, and he loves cooking, baking, and gaming. Even though you just met him, you were happy you shared some of the same interests, and honestly a little part of you hoped this wouldn’t be the last you’d see of him. The short walk led you to a large apartment complex. Felix told you his friend, Minho, is a huge cat-lover who grows his own cat grass, so you figured this is where he lived. It seemed like he spent a lot of time at Minho’s place, as the security guard immediately buzzed you both in as soon as he saw him, greeting him with a wave.

Felix knocked on the door as you arrived at, presumably, his friend’s unit. You could hear multiple voices from outside the door, and began to feel a little bit anxious. The door opened to reveal quite possibly the buffest man you have ever seen in person before. He quickly pulled your new acquaintance into a bear hug, shouting “FELIX IS HEREEE- and who’s this?” He added as he broke away, noticing you. You shyly introduced yourself to him, still standing in the doorway before Felix enters, pulling you both in. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the amount of people present, you keep your gaze trained on the floor as he ushers you into the kitchen. “Hey Minho! This is the girl I texted you about. You know- the cat grass” He explained as he gestures toward you.

You pry your gaze from the floor to see an -admittedly, beautiful man holding a spatula and wearing an apron that says “world’s best Mom” on it in hot pink lettering. As you struggle to stifle a giggle, he quickly explains that he received it as a gift from his friend Seungmin. Since he can’t leave the kitchen while he’s cooking, he instructs Felix to take you to his study, where he has prepared a small pot for you to take home. As you enter the study, you notice a sleeping figure on the black leather couch in your peripheral vision. It wasn’t until you quietly retrieved the pot, turning to exit the room, that you recognized the person sleeping. He was your mysterious jerk neighbor! You had to admit though, as much as your very limited interactions with him pissed you off, he looked kinda cute peacefully sleeping like that- with his dark, curly hair cascading over the side of his face, cheeks all puffed out and lips formed into a devastating little pout. It was hard to believe this was the same man as the asshole that lived across from you. Once you realized you were staring at him, you shook your thoughts away and silently made your way back into the living room. Thanking Minho and bidding farewell to everyone else, you and Felix began your trek back to the market.

Arriving back home shortly after dropping Felix off and giving him your socials, you got to work putting away your groceries and began to tackle the daunting task of unpacking and organizing your belongings. In order to not burn yourself out, you made sure to take breaks every few hours. During your breaks you would work on artwork, watch an episode of the kdrama you were currently immersed in, play with Newt, crochet, and stretch- even doing a little bit of yoga in the evening.

After you were satisfied with the progress you made for the day, you booted up your computer and logged on to Miroh- a new labyrinth MMORPG you had found yourself getting absolutely sucked into lately. You didn’t find the time to game as often as you would have liked to, but when you did, you preferred to set aside a good four hours or so in order to ensure you’d make a decent amount of progress with every session. After several failed attempts to demolish the octo-cyclops boss of the S-Class dungeon- in order to acquire its exclusive armor set, you were about to call it quits for the night when a random player requested to join your party. You accepted the request from _doolsetnet, sending a gratitude emote as you entered the dungeon for the umpteenth time that night, this time with another player at your assistance.

Your morale was high as you successfully cleared the second stage almost flawlessly, mentally preparing for the third and final stage. It started off well, but as the boss’s rage intensified, so did it’s attack speed. You both took a few good hits, your health bar depleting rapidly. Your helper still had a good three-quarters of their health to spare, and enough mana to cast one spell. The boss only had about a quarter left on its health bar- two more good hits and it would go down. You unmuted your mic to request a heal from your partner, which they promptly offered. With your health bar restored to half-full, and your mana charged for two attacks, you were finally able to hear the sweet, sweet cries of defeat as you slayed the beast. You jumped out of your chair, raising your fists in the air and letting out a loud “FUCK YESSS! TAKE THAT YOU ONE-EYED SLIMY CUNT” as the game rewarded you with the gorgeous mother-of-pearl armor set you’ve been ogling for months- complete with an iridescent helmet showcasing the monster’s eye. You sent user _doolsetnet a thank you message, and attached a gift containing a couple hundred gold along with a few of the rare armor dyes you had extras of. They responded by shooting you a friend request, which you accepted, and a rare weapon skin you also had your eye on. After logging off for the night, you hopped in the shower, brushed your teeth, crawled into bed with Newt in your arms, and fell asleep.

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The day you moved in was a rough one for Han Jisung. All morning he worked tirelessly, trying to perfect the song he was commissioned to produce for a high-profile client. Each time he finished editing and emailing the file, he was always met with a problem. The beat overpowers the vocals, the guitar is too quiet, the bpm is too fast, too slow- it was impossible to please them with this song, and he was going to absolutely lose it. As a perfectionist, he couldn’t let it go until both him, and the client, were both one-hundred percent satisfied. He was running on about six hours of sleep in the past three days, with a concerning lack of food and over-dependence on coffee, energy drinks, and beer. He could barely rip his focus away from the project long enough to shower and make sure his beloved puppy, Bbama, was still well taken care of.

When the blaring hisses and sharp beeps of the moving trucks breached through the music he was working on, he nearly screamed out the window at them to shut the fuck up, but he still had self control. Honestly, it was his fault for procrastinating even though he knew someone would be moving in across from him today. He tried to drown out the noise for the next hour, and when the trucks pulled out, his focus finally pulled in again. He locked in- diligently toiling away at the project, until two hours later, he had the latest revised version complete. Making sure he took all of his client’s requests into account, he submitted the file and began the waiting game. Anxiously pacing around his apartment and biting his nails for another hour, he received an email notification. He sprinted to his computer, not even bothering to take a seat as his hand hovered over the mouse for a few seconds in anticipation. He slid the cursor over the most recent email in his inbox, squeezing his eyes shut and chanting a quiet “please, please, please..” he clicked the mouse and slowly opened his eyes, scanning the results. “Mr. Han, We always appreciate your hard work, and are nearly content with the song. There are just a few small tweaks we would like to- “MOTHERFUCKER” he threw himself onto his couch and muffled an anguished scream with his pillow. He nearly started bawling due to the overwhelming frustration and crippling exhaustion.

The deadline was tomorrow, and he would have to rework the godforsaken song for the sixteenth and last time. He had to make his next submission perfect- or risk losing one of his most important clients. He peeled himself off the couch, sauntered over to his fridge to grab yet another can of beer, returned to his desk, took a few deep breaths, and got to work. There was one specific part of the song that needed reworked. He began playing the same fifteen seconds repeatedly, closer and closer to losing his sanity as he just could not pick out what was wrong with it. Another ten times- still couldn’t place it. Twenty more times, and then he caught it- at the very end of the segment. His full focus on the next loop, he cranked the volume and listened intently, not even daring to breathe in fear of it disrupting his flow. The last five seconds coming up- this was it.

A loud crash broke his focus, followed by the shrieking howls of an agitated cat. That was his last straw. He slammed his left fist down on his desk, still clutching his beer can in his right hand. Shooting out of his chair he flung open the sliding door and stormed to the edge of his balcony. He started yelling before even thinking, just letting all of his pent-up rage out on whoever his new neighbor was. Once the red-hot fury died down, and he actually saw the unfortunate victim of his outburst, he retreated in embarrassment. She was a girl who looked to be in her early to mid twenties, around the same age as him. Kinda cute too, and he threw his fucking beer can at her! God, what the hell was wrong with him? He wanted to crawl into the fetal position and just disappear forever. Unfortunately for him, though, he still had the grueling obligation of completing his wretched assignment. He stretched, cracked his knuckles, and got to work once more.

A painstaking six hours later, he checked over the email again, to refer to his clients requirements. Making damn sure he remembered EVERYTHING this time, he went through a mental checklist. He listened to the full song one more time, paying close attention to the fifteen second segment he had reworked dozens of times. This time, he had swapped the guitar for a bassy synth to create a break at the end of the pre-chorus, and he honestly felt satisfied with the outcome. He might’ve entered a state of delirium after twenty-four restless, stress filled hours, and slipped into a rather cocky mindset. He was happy with the song at last, and the client would be content with it too. Honestly, they were lucky to have a producer like him working with them. He was a musical genius. After confidently re-submitting the file for the final time, he rolled himself a much-deserved joint. He gave little Bbama all the belly rubs and smooches he had missed the last few days as he made his way to the balcony for a stress-relieving smoke.

Jisung took a few deep drags, feeling increasingly calm with every exhale, until his breath caught in his throat upon noticing you lounging on your balcony straight across from him- seemingly deeply invested in a book. The smoke in his throat burned, launching him into a painful coughing fit. He silently prayed that you wouldn’t notice, and mentally cursed himself when you did- repeating his same harsh words to you earlier, absolutely dripping with sass. He threw back a half-assed reply, wishing he could’ve put more effort into it, and was rewarded with a nonchalant eye-roll. Oh, it was game-over for him now. One thing Jisung could never control himself around, was a person who simultaneously gave off the vibes of a dom, while exuding just the perfect amount of brattiness- just enough for him to want to mercilessly fuck the attitude out of.

He decided right then and there to “test your limits”- so to speak. He dialed up his buddy Felix, making sure to greet him as loudly and obnoxiously as he could possibly muster. Only to be met with disappointment, as you just sighed and closed your book, withdrawing back into your living space. Maybe he jumped the gun- and assumed too much too soon? Oh well, he’d have plenty more chances to get a rise out of you, and began plotting his next move as he continued his conversation with Felix. When you returned wearing headphones, and sat back down to resume your book- completely ignoring him, he immediately felt his dick tightening against his pants, begging to be freed. He didn’t have you all wrong- quite the contrary. He had you just right, and the little bit of tantalizing cleavage your tank top revealed to him was the perfect tease, your breasts slightly squeezing together with every page you turned.

He attempted to mess with you a little more, even bringing out his guitar, in the hopes of disrupting your reading just enough to prompt an annoyed outburst. (And maybe even impressing you a little bit with his skills). When you once again retreated inside, and didn’t return, he figured you just went to bed this time. It was like all of his pent-up frustration throughout the week sent itself straight to his manhood. He was throbbing as he fell back on his couch, palming himself over his jeans. He had to use his imagination, having only his limited view of your cleavage to work with, but that wasn’t a problem for him.

You were straddling his lap on his couch, plush thighs squeezing either side of his as you slowly and tortuously ground yourself against his aching length. In this scenario, you had caught him sneaking a peek at you through the window and stormed over, angrily knocking on his door to confront him. You were yelling at him with your arms crossed, squeezing your tits together and giving him the perfect view. -He finally released himself from his denim prison, wrapping his hand around his thick, hard length, and letting out a sigh- When you noticed where he was staring, and looked down to see the prominent bulge in his pants, you forcefully pushed him down on the couch, climbing on top of him. Yanking the nape of his curly hair, you compelled him to look up at you, chastising him for being a dirty pervert. “You disgusting piece of shit- can’t even be scolded by a woman without getting yourself all hot and bothered.” You spat at him as he let out a whimper. “How pathetic” the way you breathlessly enunciated that word had him fisting his angry cock furiously, thighs twitching and breaths panting as he felt his chest tighten. He was so close already- probably due to his lack of jerking off for the past few days.

When you crept your hand up his chest and around his throat, harshly squeezing your fingers around it, he came. All over his hand, shirt, pants, couch, and even spilling a few drops onto his floor. He can’t even remember the last time he came this hard- it was probably one of the first times he ever masturbated. He didn’t even get to the best part in his scenario, the part where he takes over, flipping you onto your back and burying his face between your legs, eating you out like you’re his last meal while you’re whining and begging him to take you, as you release all over his fingers and face. He felt himself twitch, and looked down in disbelief to be met with yet another raging boner. God, the things you did to him, and you didn’t even know him, or his name. It just made the whole thing that much hotter. He’ll make sure you’ll find out soon, though, so the you in his fantasies can scream it for him.

After cleaning up his mess, and slipping into a clean pair of sweatpants, he made his way over to his fridge, and grabbed himself a cup of water. Chugging it down to soothe his dry throat, he glanced out the window- his eyes falling on you. You were wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, barely covering the curve of your ass, as you leaned over your kitchen counter. Sipping on a mug in one hand and scrolling on your phone in another, you were unknowingly giving him some quality material to work with. He made sure to engrain that image of you in his mind, taking note of every detail of your legs, including your tattoos, for next time.

The next morning, after getting a few hours of sleep and clearing his brain fog, he was mortified to say the least. He made himself out to be a complete asshole to his new (hot) neighbor, and immediately proceeded to ferociously pump himself dry to his imagination of said neighbor. Embarrassed was an understatement. He groaned as he got out of bed, heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth. As he refilled Bbama’s food and water dishes, he decided he should apologize to you for his rude behavior.

A little while later, he found himself standing outside your door, preparing his fist to knock. As he heard your footsteps nearing increasingly closer, he panicked and made a beeline to the end of the hallway, tucking himself around the corner. He caught his breath, noticing you exiting your unit and heading down the stairs. He was startled by his phone buzzing, pulling it out of his pocket to read a text from Minho. “Get your ass over here NOW. I know you haven’t eaten well in days and I’m preparing some bulgogi.” He honestly didn’t even notice just how hungry he was, being too distracted by this work, and- well, you, to care. He pulled himself up and made his way over to Minho’s.

He immediately flopped down on the couch in the study after greeting his friends. They knew him- and his current work dilemma, well enough to understand he didn’t have the energy for socializing until he got a good rest, so that’s exactly what he proceeded to do. Seungmin kicked open the door when their meal was ready, jolting Jisung awake. He drug his feet to the kitchen, joining Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Suengmin at the table and taking his seat. While quite literally stuffing his mouth, he listened to his friends converse and argue, adding in a few comments muffled by the food stored in his cheeks. His interest piqued when Changbin mentioned the girl that came by, turning to Minho and sending him a puzzled look. Since when does Minho invite girls over? His older friend noticed his expression, and responded by explaining that Felix had brought her over because she was on the hunt for cat grass. “I can’t deny though, she was just my type. I’ll have to ask Felix if he got her number.” Hyunjin piped up, wiggling his eyebrows.

Seungmin shot him a side-eye, pinching his arm and causing the other to yelp while chastising him for his fuckboy attitude. Jisung on the other hand, was intrigued- asking Hyunjin to describe her appearance, practically begging, honestly. Who could blame him? He was currently down bad- astronomically, even. After listening to Hyunjin’s description, agreeing that she did, in fact, seem very attractive, he rewarded his friend with a description of the goddess that had just moved in next door to him. Hyunjin was practically drooling as he described her perky tits and thick, tattoo-adorned thighs in great detail, prompting Seungmin to manually shut his jaw. “No more horny talk over the meal I slaved away at all day, to prepare for you ungrateful degenerates!” Minho shouted, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt. After finishing the perfectly-cooked bulgogi and cleaning up after themselves, Jisung walked home, with Hyunjin in tow, begging him to let him crash at his place. Hyunjin lived only a block away from him, so he knew the only reason was so his friend could get a look at you. Cursing himself for his overly-enthusiastic recounting of your gorgeous body- only having seen the lower half so far, he pushed Hyunjin towards the opposite end of the fork dividing the paths between both of their residences.

When he returned home, he cracked open a can of beer, bringing it to his lips as he looked out his window, once again catching a glimpse of you. He quite literally spit out the liquid he was holding in his mouth, as his gaze was met with your ass pointed directly towards him, your back arched towards the floor, and arms outstretched while you contorted your body into what seemed to be a yoga pose. He silently praised whatever god might exist for you leaving your curtains open, and wearing the shortest compression shorts, as he stared- dumbfounded. He could literally see the outline of your pussy, leaving barely anything to his imagination. He wasn’t proud of it at all, but simply his memory would not suffice. He just had to snap a pic. He laid down on his bed as he pulled down the waistband of his joggers. Staring at his new favorite picture,

He began to slowly stroke himself as his imagination ran wild.

This time, you were doing yoga on your balcony when you caught him staring. You didn’t seem mad, quite the opposite, however, as he watched you sit down and part your legs, not breaking eye contact as you shoved your fingers in your mouth, slowly sucking on them. He watched you leisurely trail your other hand down your chest, squeezing your right breast, and releasing a pretty moan muffled by your fingers as you grazed over your nipple. He wondered how your moans would really sound. Would they be as needy as he’s picturing them right now? He hoped he would get the chance to find out. He imagined you releasing your spit-covered hand from your mouth, placing it on your inner thigh and leaving wet trails as it inched further and further to your puffy cunt, obstructed by your tight compression shorts. Still not breaking eye contact with him, you slid the garment to the side, as well as the tiny red thong you wore underneath in his fantasy. Giving him a mouth-watering view of your dripping heat, you plunged two fingers in, gasping at the feeling of fullness. You closed your eyes as you slowly pumped in and out, letting the quietest whimpers grace his ears. You lifted your head and offered him a sexy smirk, beckoning him to “come here” with your two glistening fingers. He brought his hand to his mouth, spitting into it and resuming its position wrapped around his needy cock. The added lubrication allowed him to increase his pace- still careful not to go too fast and risk missing out on the best parts of his scenario again.

He started to let out a few breathy whines as he imagined himself knocking on your door. You answered quickly, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him in before closing the door, and leading him to your bedroom. He kicked off his shoes somewhere along the way, and you sat on the edge of your bed, instructing him to kneel on the floor between your thighs. He trailed sloppy, open mouthed kisses up your inner thighs as you tangled your hand in his curls. He broke away to remove your shorts and thong, giving him a clear view of your arousal. He caught a whiff of your sweet scent, flattening his tongue and slowly lapping up towards your clit. You responded by pulling on his hair and grinding yourself against his face, causing him to release a deep moan, the vibration had you shuttering against him. He slipped his ring finger in, the cold metal of his ring contrasting with the warmth of your walls caused your eyes to roll back. You let out a loud moan as his middle finger joined the other inside you, relishing in the juxtaposition of slight pain and pleasure, as he stretched you out. You used his fingers to fuck yourself towards him, allowing his undivided attention to focus on sucking and circling your clit. This had you absolutely reeling, crushing his head between your thighs and coming undone, rewarding him with the most filthy, sinful, screams as his face was coated with your sweet nectar. He looked up at you as he sensually plunged his fingers into his mouth, licking up your release, and groaning at the taste. Your eyes glistened as he stood up, looking down at you as you returned his gaze through your lashes. You lowered your focus to the tent in his sweatpants, taking in the perfect outline of his curvature as you parted your legs and begged- no, pleaded with him to fuck you. You promised you’d be good for him, make him feel good, let him use you. The incoherent mumbling faltered as he sandwiched himself between your legs, and pulled his waistband down- his hard, leaking dick slapping against your abdomen. He hoisted your legs over his shoulders, keeping a strong grip on them as he finally plunged himself deep into your soaked cunt. He allowed you to adjust yourself to the stretch, choking out a guttural groan and a “fuck.. noona!” (He has no idea how old you are, he just has a little bit of a fixation on the idea of you being slightly older than him. He’ll unpack that another time.) As he imagined feeling you clench around him- and he felt his cock twitch violently in his hand- he blew his load all over himself, feeling the warm liquid coating his fingers and abs.

Panting heavily, he still couldn’t look away from his phone in his grip, displaying the picture he took of you. He wanted -needed- to know what it was like to see you up close in the same position. After taking a few moments to collect himself, he walked past his window on the way to the fridge. Seeing you sitting in front of your computer, back tensed in what appeared to be frustration, he tried to maneuver his vision around you to get a peek at what you were working on. He figured you were an artist, as you had all kinds of equipment set up around your living room- canvases, easels, and a cart full of what appeared to be paintbrushes and paints. He wanted to see if you were working on a digital art piece, and nearly came in his pants when he finally caught a view of your computer, instantly recognizing the images on your screen. You weren’t working on art, you were playing Miroh- his current favorite MMORPG. He opened his phone camera and zoomed in to try to get a better view of the game. Adrenaline surged in his chest as he saw the familiar Octo-Cyclops he has beaten countless times. In fact, he helped many players through that dungeon in the Miroh discord server he was an active member in. This was his time to shine. He captured a picture of your screen, hoping to make out your username. Sure enough, it was legible.

He practically sprinted to his computer and logged into the game, quickly typing in your tag and requesting to join your party, which you immediately accepted. He got to work preparing his inventory and chuckled to himself when you sent him a cute emote to thank him in advance for helping. At the third stage of the boss fight, he was playing defensively- letting you take the brunt of most of the attacks while he conserved his mana for a healing spell. As he watched your health bar start to deplete, he was preparing to heal you when you unmuted to beg him for help in the sweetest voice. He smirked as he released the spell, effectively restoring your health and mana, allowing you to fire off your last two attacks, defeating the boss. He smiled to himself as he heard your sailor-mouthed victory chant. Browsing his inventory for his rarest extra weapon skin, he attached it to the friend request he sent you before logging off and heading to bed. He was overflowing with pride with himself for being able to send you a nice gesture, even if it was anonymously.

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