#even though i dm in the world and love doing that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sparklingchim · 3 months ago

Text

game on | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.2k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: pg

warnings: koo gets scolded for sleeping around 🥺, playboy jk <3, hints of a threesome 🫢, oc fights w a laundry machine

summary: jungkook is in desperate need to polish up his playboy image, and naturally, he turns to you for help.

a/n: hii my pretty besties!!!! it's my bday😋 so i wanted to share this silly piece i've been having so much fun writing!!! love uuu n treat urself to smth nice for me today <3 mwah😙

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Jeon Jungkook is a charming man – and he is well aware of the fact. He plays that card effortlessly.

Most of the time, it works in his favour.

But sometimes, it backfires spectacularly and gets him into trouble.

Which is why he stands in front of his fuming manage, who is radiating enough anger to fill the entire office.

The sight isn’t foreign to Jungkook. He wouldn’t say he is used to it, but he has found himself often enough in this situation to recognise the signs of deep trouble.

Not only is Jungkook’s charm complicating things, but the fact that he is famous too.

Sometimes, he uses that as an advantage. Not in an obvious way — never by flaunting his own achievements or demanding special treatment.

That’s not his style.

His name alone carries weight, and he knows how to let it work for him, quietly bending the world to his will... until the world pushes back.

And right now, it’s pushing back hard.

One thing Jeon Jungkook does enjoy about being a pro footballer, though, is the way women obsess over him.

He knows they love him – sees it in the comments they leave on his ig posts, sees it in the DMs flooding his inbox daily, and experiences it firsthand at public events, where hordes of fans scream his name. Jungkook thrives on that attention.

However, something he doesn’t love, and what he was never prepared for, is the media. The way they scrutinise his every move, how his face ends up on every headline anytime he does something remotely noteworthy.

And now, thanks to his latest shenanigan getting caught by the press, here he is. Standing in front of his manager, Taesung, and his PR agent, Jiwoo, eyes downcast, bracing himself for the scolding that’s already begun.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Jungkook.”

His manager speaks in a flat, monotonous voice, void of even the slightest hint of disappointment, as if he’d long since given up expecting anything different.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean up the mess you leave behind?”

A sense of guilt creeping up on Jungkook, even though he knows if he were just a regular guy, none of this would matter at all. And he finds it a bit unfair.

But to survive in this business, you can’t complain about unfairness.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Taesung barks.

Jungkook remains silent. He forces himself to.

“If there was more involved than just alcohol-”

“No! Nothing like that,” he denies, his response firm and immediate. “It was just alcohol – and, well, just good vibes because we won the last match, and with the World Cup being next, everyone was just really excited.”

If he had known what kind of trouble a simple, innocent celebration of his team’s win at a club would bring, he would’ve gone straight home yesterday. He would’ve skipped the rounds of drinks, the flashing lights, the loud music, and definitely the attention. But hindsight was useless now.

“Good,” his manager says. “I’m glad you were happy.” Mock sympathy drips from his voice. “Perhaps the last time you are going to be happy this year.”

Jungkook nods, accepting the gravity of the situation. No more clubs, no more parties, no more girls.

At least, not for a while. His reputation had taken a few hits recently, and this latest mess wasn’t helping. He could almost hear the whispers: reckless, irresponsible, unprofessional. The kind of things that could ruin him if he didn’t get a handle on it.

He clenched his jaw. No more distractions. From now on, it was all about the game. He needed to remind everyone why he was Jeon Jungkook — the best on the field, not just the headlines.

“You’re no longer in for the World Cup. You’re out.”

His head snaps up at that. Did he hear that right?

“What?! What do you mean?”

“Myungbo doesn’t want you on the team anymore.” Taesung’s words sound heavy and final.

Jungkook’s heart pounds in his ears.

His world tilts. The room seems to spin, the edges of his vision darkening. This wasn’t just a setback — it was a disaster. The World Cup was everything to him, and now it felt like it was slipping through his fingers. The crushing weight of the news settles on his chest, making it hard to breathe. One silly night is all that happened.

He can’t believe that a single photo of him leaving the club with two girls clinging to each arm has cost him his spot on the national football team. He went home with two girls – so what?

But he doesn’t voice his frustration. He knows better than to add fuel to the fire. Speaking his mind now would only escalate the situation and make things worse. Jungkook knows from experience.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay calm. His pulse is still racing, but he takes a deep breath, focusing on controlling his emotions. He has to keep a level head if he’s going to find a way to fix this.

“There has to be a way to fix this.” His eyes move to Jiwoo, his PR agent. “Right?”

His manager fixes him with a stern glare. “Jungkook, remember the promise you gave everyone a few months ago?” Taesung reminds him.

Jungkook cringes. When he made a promise to avoid actions that might damage his reputation, he didn’t think it’d be that serious. He cut back on going out, made the effort to play the role of the “good boy” but really – come on. He can’t maintain that facade for an eternity. Especially after a triumphant victory like yesterday’s.

Taking away his spot on the national football team? He didn’t think that was possible.

“How many more times do we have to fix your problems, because you don’t care enough? How many times do we have to repeat this scenario?”

“I promise I’ll better myself,” he pleads desperately, looking back and forth between his manager and his PR agent. Someone has to believe him, help him.

“Do you genuinely believe this country wants to be represented by a 20-year-old boy, who can’t keep his personal life under control?” Taesung asks, eyebrows deeply pinched together. “This isn’t just about you, Jungkook. It’s about the team, the fans, and the nation. They need a role model, not a scandal waiting to happen.”

“I know. I know.” Jungkook scrambles for something convincing to say, desperate to sway their decision. This can’t be it. He won’t let his career take a hit because of something like this. “But – but this isn’t too bad. This is fixable. I can fix this.” His voice quivers with a desperation he barely recognises as his own. “Jiwoo.” Jungkook turns to her with pleading eyes. “You always know what to do. Please, help me”

“I did propose an idea but-”

“We’re not doing that,” Taesung cuts in. “It’s off the table.”

“What is it?” Jungkook’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “I’ll do anything. This is – this is everything to me. You have to give me a chance.”

Taesung scoffs. “A chance? As far as I know, you have been given countless chances.”

Sweat coats the back of Jungkook’s neck.

Taesung understands just how much Jungkook has fought to secure his place on the national team. He’s well aware that it’s one of Jungkook’s greatest dreams, a pinnacle of his career that he’s poured countless hours of hard work and sacrifice into. That’s why, each morning, when he wakes up to the latest news of Jungkook’s escapades, he feels a deep sense of disappointment, texting Jungkook with a dejected shake of his head to visit his office first thing in the morning.

When it’s all he wants, like Jungkook claims, why doesn’t he act like it?

“If the head coach won’t give me a chance now, he’ll never do. This is my last opportunity to change his mind, make him rethink. I need to at least try.”

Jiwoo looks at the manager, waiting for his approval. He nods.

“Very simply put: you need a girlfriend,” she says.

For a second, Jungkook is at loss for words.

“A girlfriend? How’s that going to help?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. This is not how he thought Jiwoo was going to save him.

“You need a girlfriend to help polish up your image as a player. It’ll make you appear more like a gentleman, softer and nicer. We need to completely shift public perception and counter the negative image they’ve formed about you. It’s all about changing the narrative,” she explains.

“And that is not something we can easily achieve,” Taesung interjects. “Rebranding your entire persona is not feasible at this stage. You’ve been projecting what kind of boy you are to the media for the past two years. It’s going to be incredibly difficult to make a sudden shift look genuine.”

“No! We — I can make it seem real. This is my only chance,” Jungkook insists, his voice gaining a hint of determination. For a moment, breathing feels a bit easier again. “The World Cup is just a month away. That’s enough time to shift public opinion and prove I’m worthy of representing the country on the team.” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he speaks, clinging to the belief that he might not have to bid farewell to his biggest dream after all.

But his manager doesn’t look as hopeful as Jungkook feels.

“How are we going to find a girl who will agree to this? Someone who isn’t an obsessive fan, understands this is purely professional, and can keep quiet? You won’t be able to pull this off.”

“I was actually thinking-” Jiwoo starts, but she’s cut off.

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between them before speaking. “Actually... I think I already have someone in mind.” His voice is more measured now. “That’s not the issue.” Jungkook doesn’t need to think twice.

Taesung sighs while Jiwoo looks at Jungkook apologetically.

“You can’t rebrand your entire persona from a playboy to a lover boy within a month, Jungkook. This is over.” His manager shakes his head, a sense of finality glimmering in his eyes.

One thing that Jungkook forgot to mention is that he is an extremely competitive man, too.

“This is ridiculous.”

You kick the laundry machine in frustration, but all you end up doing is yelping and clutching your aching foot.

“That’s the third time this month,” you mutter under your breath. “What did I even spend all that money on if it’s just going to break down whenever it feels like it?”

You shoot a death glare at the machine, teetering on the edge of losing your mind.

“Guess I’ll have to use the public laundromat again,” you sigh, grabbing the overflowing laundry basket filled with your and your roommate's clothes, and heading out of the bathroom with a huff.

On your way to the front door, the doorbell rings.

Please, you think. You were hoping for some quiet, uninterrupted time to deep-clean your dorm on this peaceful Sunday with no one around.

But when you peek through the peephole and see Jungkook standing there, your frustration melts away. You swing the door open, the laundry basket tumbling to the floor beside you in your haste.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim. “You’re timing is perfect! Can you please fix my laundry machine again? It’s been acting up, and I’m getting frustrated.” You groan annoyed.

Jungkook doesn’t share the same excitement upon seeing you.

You grow smaller and take an indecisive step back.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, noticing the tension in his features. “Did you lose the match yesterday? I couldn’t keep up because I had too much cramming to do last night.”

While studying medicine had always been your dream, the reality is less exciting. Right now, it means sleepless nights and relentless pressure. You know that pursuing this path will offer you many privileges later in life, but you have to suffer first.

“I need your help.”

His dark eyes, usually bright and full of energy, seem clouded with worry, and his hair falls messily over his forehead, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times in frustration.

“Are you okay?” You study him closely, scanning his face for any signs of injury. Physically, he seems fine — still tall, muscular, and as fit as ever. But something is clearly off.

“You need to do something for me.”

“I can help,” you reply, your voice soft with concern. ‘But what is it…?”

“Can you be my girlfriend?”

You blink, repeatedly.

“Huh?”

You start giggling when he doesn’t add more. You expect him to clarify or laugh along, but Jungkook stays serious, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his. You look down at them, then back up at his face, utterly bewildered.

“You’re silly, Jungkook. If someone on the team made you do this, tell them you did the punishment and quit acting so weird.”

It’s too early in the morning for Jungkook’s nonsense.

“No, ___, you don’t understand.” He squeezes your hands when he feels you trying to pull them back. “I actually need you to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Fake date me.”

#jungkook drabble #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader

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imwritingthefout · 4 months ago

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after session hangout

basically you fall in love with the dm of your campaign in college: Ford pines, smut ensues

This is crossposted to ao3 so if you wanna go read it there, here’s the link:

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Waking up each day to the same old ceiling was starting to bore you.

Ever since moving out of your parents house for college you felt like a stranger in the dorm you now called ‘home’, and It didn't help that you refused to decorate it.

Getting out of your plain old bed, you stand up and push away the blinds with a tug, the light from the early morning sun blinding you temporarily. You glance down at your clock; 6:30am, thursday. The time isn't the part that excites you though, it's the day. Today is the day you look forward to all week: Dd&md day!

You go to get ready for your morning class, excited for what the future of today may hold. You love dd&md, its been your favourite game since you were a child -even though you had no one to play it with back then, you got creative (no goat was harmed in your past attempts at playing the game).

Your classes went by in a blur. Of course you were taking notes and whatnot, it was important to pay attention! But in secret, you were drawing your character all over the side of your notebook and thinking of strategies on how to defeat the next dungeon your dm set up for you.

And then there was your dm.

One of the many reasons you adored thursdays was because you got to play dd&md of course, but other than that there was another big reason you liked thursdays.

To put it plainly: your dm, Stanford Pines was Hot. like, capital H Hot. you couldn't get over his warm brown eyes that sparkled with passion whenever he detailed the characters he was playing. His hands that moved with his every word, adding to the description of the imaginary world he was building. God you wanted to feel those hands on you. What would they feel like, intertwined with your own, on your hips while he-

You decided to stop that train of thought. As much as you liked him, you also respected him enough to know that he would probably never feel that way towards you, and you shouldn't fantasise about him like that (even though it was hard not to).

And though he was Hot, that wasn't the only reason you liked him. You liked him because he was smart, compassionate, funny and so very cute.

What can you say? You had a thing for nerds.

As your last class of the day finished finished up, you quickly packed up your things and rushed to the old building next to the dorms that housed your favourite room in the whole campus: the old meeting room you guys used to house your dd&md sessions!

The room wasn't glorious, it was just an old meeting room that's been out of use for years. But to you, that room was the home of your imagination. It held a special place in your heart, and you were sure it was the same for the rest of your party.

Speaking of which, you saw Fiddleford approach you down the old hallway, little puffs of dust kicking up with each of his steps. “Hey Fidds! You ready for today’s session?” you yelled to him slightly as he approached. “Ready as I'll ever be! You won't believe what I have planned in order to kick that sorcerer's butt!” he gave your shoulder a weak punch and opened the door with his key.

Usually, the old building was out of commission. But since Fiddleford knew a guy who works as campus security and convinced him to give him the key, you had full access to the building to do whatever you pleased. Of course for you, anything just means playing dd&md, not causing a mess and cleaning up after yourselves as much as possible in order to not inconvenience anyone. You knew that other people your age would throw huge parties and wreck the place, but you weren't that kind of person, really. You just liked having a quiet place to play your games and hang out with your friends. Fiddleford was like that too, that's how he got the key in the first place; because his friend trusted him not to mess up the place.

As you walked inside, you saw the table set out just how you guys left it last week: the long rectangular table set up in the middle of the room, with seven chairs set out all around the table, one for each player and one for your dm. A whiteboard behind the dm’s seat that shows the map of the fantasy world you are currently in the middle of exploring, and cork board on another wall with a bunch of graph paper pinned to it.

You walk around the table, taking your regular seat across from Fiddleford. “So what do you think Ford's planning for this session?” you ask Fidds. This is your usual routine: get to the building early, wait for Fidds and ask him if he has any intel for the session since his roommate is Ford. “like usual, i can’t tell you, it'll ruin the fun!” Fidds exclaimed, although the grin on his face told you he likes this familiar back and forth.

You eased into a casual conversation from there, talking about your days as you waited for everyone else. You liked coming early because then you had more time to talk with Fidds and, of course, with Ford.

You met Fidds on the first day of the semester, when you sat next to each other in the freshman orientation presentation, and hit it off from there. you became friends rather quickly, bonding over the fact that you were both far away from home with no friends in town. You decided to help him move into his dorm after the presentation, and that's when you met Ford.

At first, you were a bit speechless at the guy in front of you. His outfit was the usual scholar's outfit of a white button up shirt with a brown vest on top, but then he was wearing jeans in order to look more ‘casual’ as he put it. His hair was neat and tidy and his glasses framed his face perfectly, at least in your opinion. You introduced yourself awkwardly, and once he introduced himself as Stanford Pines, a parapsychology major with aspirations for 12 phd’s in the next five years, you knew you were in over your head. You can't have a crush on a super-genius! What if he turns out to be an arrogant asshole? But you couldn't help developing feelings for him as you got closer. He wasn't just a super-genius, he was also kind and compassionate, understanding and just a good friend. That's when you decided to just stay friends with Ford, you couldn't afford to lose such a good friend.

Speaking of which, the man himself comes into the room, holding a stack of books detailing the rules and monsters of dd&md, a satin sack full of dice and his dm screen. You can barely see his face behind all of the things he's carrying, and immediately you jump up to help him carry everything. He silently thanks you for the help and starts setting his stuff up while you go back to your seat. “Hey guys, how've you been since last week?” Ford asks you two. “Oh i've been well, you know. Dealing with you every day can be challenging but I manage somehow” Fidds says dramatically and you stifle a giggle. Ford gives Fidds a death glare before turning to you “and how are you?” he asks with a smile that makes your knees weak. “I'm good!” you proclaim a little too loudly and cough to hide your blush “yes i'm good, just the usual classes and such” you say in a normal voice (or at least what you hope is a normal voice, it doesn't help that Fidds looks at you cheekily, already knowing your secret crush on his roomate) “how have you been?” you ask him.

“Just the usual: doing homework, studying and building up today’s session” you catch on to the last part as a potential way to continue the conversation. “Well, what do you have planned for today?”. “Oh come on now, it wouldn't be fun to just spoil the game for you, would it?” he says and points to you to emphasise his point. “You can't even give us an outline? Something?” you pout a little and Ford gives in “fine… I may have something up my sleeve for today, and I can guarantee you won't see it coming this time! That's all I'm going to say for now though” he jabs his finger at you, trying to seem angry that you caught onto his plans last time, but his little smile gives him away.

Soon your other party members start filing in and you all start the session.

It goes as usual, you all mess around for a bit before getting serious. You can confidently say you saw the twist Ford put in this session coming, it was obvious how the wizard was actually a party member’s son, they had so many similarities! After another successful session, everyone leaves for their respective houses, leaving you, Fidds and Ford alone in the room to clean up.

“I can't believe you saw that coming again! I swear you're like a sorcerer in real life” Ford chuckles and Fidds adds “that would also explain how you get here before me every time! I swear I ran to get here today and you still beat me here!” “well what can i say guys? I'm just magical in every way!” you strike a silly but confident pose as Ford and Fidds laugh at your antics. “Oh shoot! I promised my friend i’d go on a blind date today, could you guys lock up this time? Ford you can just give me the keys tomorrow morning if i get lucky” Fidds winks and Ford rolls his eyes “alright, we get it, you can go”. Fidds leaves the keys on the desk and almost sprints out of the room.

You and Ford clean up the mess on the desk in silence before Ford decides to break it “how do you keep predicting my twists anyways? I swear it was supposed to come out of nowhere but you're too smart” you blush a little at the compliment “thank you, i guess i’m just good at guessing twists. But you do make it kind of easy. I mean, a secret relative of someone close? It’s kind of a cliche don't you think?” he pulls at the collar of his button up shirt and you can immediately tell something is wrong.

“Yeah.. I guess it is kind of cliche, but it's what fits the character, don't you think?” he says with a guilty tone. “Ford, what's wrong? I feel like you're hiding something” you get close enough to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder “you can tell me anything, i wont judge” you add, trying to coax him into telling you what's wrong.

“Well… I guess I brought the secret relative from my own life because… well… I have a twin brother….” the sentence doesn’t completely shock you, but it is still somewhat of a surprise “why do you never mention him? Did something happen between you two?” he chuckles a bit before saying “still as perceptive as ever, huh?” you blush a bit as he continues, looking out into the middle distance in thought

“Me and my brother were really close when we were young, we would do everything together. But as time went on, we grew apart. He didn't like the fact that I wanted to go away to a fancy college, especially because he knew he couldn't follow me there. I was working on a machine to impress the college, but on the day of the showing it stopped working. My own brother sabotaged my future. We had a big falling out over it and that’s why I'm here instead….” you empathised with Ford, but you couldn't help but question some things about his story.

“I know it must have been hard to deal with the fact you lost your ticket to the college of your dreams, but do you really believe your brother would sabotage you? If he loves you, wouldn't he want to support you? Maybe it was an accident and he didn't mean to destroy your project?” Ford looks lost in thought again before replying “i… it's foolish but i never thought of it that way…” he looks at you with thankfulness in his eyes and you can't help but smile up at him “you should maybe sort this out with him? Talk to him about what actually happened and if he meant to hurt you?”

“God you're right… Thank you! This changes everything! I'm so glad I could just kiss you!”

….

It takes him a second to realise what he said and blush at the thought of actually kissing you. You just stare at him dumbly for a second until your brain processes what he said.

He wants to kiss you?

Well this took a turn for the better.

“Do you really mean that?” you ask him with hope in your eyes

“Well… yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t i? Look at you” he finds that it's suddenly very important you understand how much he wants to kiss you. “Wow… i- i didn't know you felt the same…” you say softly and look down. He says your name and puts his hand on your cheek and lifts up your face to meet his eyes “i like you. More than as a friend. Would you… let me kiss you?” he looks at you nervously for a moment before you close the gap between you two and kiss him yourself.

The kiss feels electrifying. As your soft lips meet his you put your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You realise he smells exactly how you thought he would; of old books and aftershave. His hands find your waist and rub gentle circles with his thumbs into your skin. You pull away after a little and touch your forehead with his “you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that” you whisper gently.

“Me too” and he goes back to kissing you, this time he takes the lead. You tighten yourself around him until your chests meet, his hands move down to your hips and he pulls you onto his lap in one swoop. You gently bite his lip as he groans into your open lips. He then moves down to kiss from your jaw to your neck, leaving the occasional love bite. You sigh at his bites until he gets to your collarbones. “Do you…. Want to do this?” he breathes the question against your skin, the feeling of him against you makes you shudder. “Yes. im sure”. He straightens up from excitement and goes back to kissing you collarbone, now more eager than ever as his hands travel past the hem of your shirt and up to your bra. Meanwhile your hands go down to feel him underneath you.

“Someone is excited” you smirk as he breaths heavily against you.

“Very” his response falls heavy against you as he unclasps your bra (with only a little bit of a struggle) and his hands move to massage your breasts. You moan as he pinches your nipples in between his fingers. You lower your head to bite at his shoulder to stifle another moan from falling out of your lips- “No” he says and moves his shoulder to get you to stop muffling your sounds. “I want to hear you”. The thought of him wanting to hear you like this makes you blush and sends a bolt of pleasure down your spine. “Y-yes’’

You intend to start massaging him through his pants but he beats you to it, moving his hand down into your pants. You help him take off your pants and underwear (with a lot of struggle because of your position) and he suddenly picks you up and places you on the table. The cold desk underneath you only adds to the pleasure as he caresses your side before moving his hand down to finally touch you.

His hand caresses your folds and feels how wet you are, and you moan from the feeling of his thick fingers on your sensitive skin. “Damn, you feel so good” he whimpers at how you feel before kissing your breasts and plunging his index finger inside you. “A-ah~” you sigh as he moves his hand so his thumb is circling your clit.

He continues pumping his finger inside of you for a second before adding a second one and speeding up the pace. If he continues like this you wont last long. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts, he stops and goes down onto his knees, his face in front of your core. “Can I please taste you?” he asks innocently, as if his request isn't the most dirty thing you've heard him say. Thinking about it makes you even more aroused -if that's even possible at this point- and you hastily agree.

Not even a second after he sees you nod does he jump into your pussy, his tongue plunging into you and licking you from the inside. His nose bumps into your clit as he moves to taste and lick you even more. Your breath hitches and you moan loudly as he begins sucking at your clit, toying and teasing it with his tongue. “Please F-Ford” you manage to say in between moans. He groans against you and the vibrations send a wave of pleasure through you.

He suddenly brings his fingers back into you, curling them just right, hitting that spongy spot inside you that sends you over the edge.

You briefly hear him let out a broken “Fu-uck” as your orgasm ripples through you in waves. Ford helps you ride out your high as he continues fingering you and licking at your clit. You have to push him off of you as it becomes too overstimulating

You try to pull him up to his knees, but he seems embarrassed by something. He looks up at you with his chin and nose glistening from your wetness, a guilty smile on his lips and his glasses fogged up and crooked. You then look down and notice it. A wet spot against his jeans

oh.

He got off on pleasuring you. He turned into a mess from just tasting you, feeling you on his lips and fingers. “That's the hottest thing i've ever seen” you say suddenly and lean down to kiss him passionately. He pulls away “really? You think so?” he looks at you in shock. “Yes! Now let me kiss you” you bring him up and kiss him passionately. He takes the hint, grabs at your hips and grunts. You can feel him already hardening again so you pull at his belt and pull down his pants and underwear. You softly grab him and start moving your hand up and down as he whimpers against your lips. You bring up your hand and spit onto it in order to create less friction when touching him.

“Please Ford- fuck me” you moan into his ear and he leans his head back in pleasure. “But i don't have-” you cut him off “there's some condoms in the front pocket of my bag, please” you emphasise your point by giving his cock another stroke. This seems to fuel him on to run to your bag and get the condom. He opens the packet and rolls it onto his member. He rubs his cock against your folds to collect your juices and as his head rubs against your oversensitive clit you moan. “Please put it inside” you hold onto his shoulders as he follows your request and pushes his tip in slowly.

He slowly pushes himself inside you until he's bottomed out inside you and you both groan. You move your hips experimentally and he whimpers at the feeling of you around him. He slowly starts to pull out and then thrusts back in with a moan of your name. You dig your fingers into the soft skin of his shoulders as he continues thrusting inside of you slowly.

He continues gently until you decide to whisper in his ear something that changes his attitude completely “harder- please~”. He understands the message and suddenly picks you up and flips you around -while still inside of you- and bends you over the table. You moan at the sudden change of positions but you have no time to get used to it as he starts thrusting into you at a killer pace. He moves his hips sharply into you, with an almost mechanical pace as he pushes your chest onto the table with his broad torso. You can't help the sounds you let out each time he hits that deep spot inside of you. He grunts into your ear at each thrust and it makes your eyes water from all the pleasure.

You're suddenly pushed over the edge for the second time when he wraps his hand around your body and starts playing with you clit. You scream his name as you cum around his cock. His pace stutters a bit and he curses in your ear as he cums too for the second time.

He slowly eases you both down with some gentler thrusts and then exits out of you with a sensual pop.

You lay down for a little while with your ass out before you gather some strength to get up. As soon as you do, your legs start to shake and Ford catches you in his arms and chuckles a bit with pride. “So…. did you like that?”

You dead-pan him and say “no. i didn't like that. Of course I liked that you doofus!” he laughs a bit and kisses you again. “I just wanted to make sure!” he says against your lips. You giggle and pull him even closer “well, i enjoyed that a lot” you give him a small peck on the nose and then pull away to put your clothes back on. He disposes of the condom and goes to put on his pants but pauses. “I can't go out with a wet spot on my pants…. What should I do?” he looks terrified at the thought of walking around campus like that.

“Don't worry, i always carry an extra sweatshirt around in case the ac is too much in class” you laugh as he looks at you like you just saved his life “you are an angel!” he comes up to you and kisses you again before going back to putting on his pants. You hand him the sweatshirt and he ties it around his waist in order to hide the evidence of what happened.

He then comes up to you and hugs you. “You know i meant what i said, right? About liking you” you blush and then respond “i meant what i said too”

“Then can this not be a one time thing? I want to -if you’d want of course, there's no pressure if you don't want to do anything more than what happened today but-” you cut him off to spare him from rambling even more “i’d like to go on a date with you, Ford. i want to go out with you and be with you” he sighs with relief. “Great! Are you free tomorrow?” you check your calendar “yeah i should be- do you want to meet up?”

“I would love that” he kisses your forehead before picking up your bag and the keys to the room.

You go out but as Ford locks the door, he realises something.

“Why do you have condoms in your bag?”

You immediately flush a deep red as you remember the fact that after first meeting him, your horney brain convinced you to put some condoms in your bag. ‘Just in case something happens’ you thought to yourself

“No reason” you yelp out and pull at his bicep so he continues walking and change the subject.

He chuckles at your antics but goes along with you.

He’ll just have to ask another time.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanford pines x reader #ford pines #ford pines x reader #gravity falls fanfiction #college!ford pines #smut #ford pines smut #ford pines fluff

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romugh · 2 months ago

Text

TEACHER'S PET? NO, STUDENT'S PET!- NR

ROMUGH’S KINKTOBER

october 9th — classroom sex

DAY SIX || kinktober masterlist || 2024.

pairing- prof!natasha romanoff x gp!student!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, legal age gap (23, 29 - not specified), oral (n & r rcv), handie (r rcv), blowie (r rcv), slight exhibitionism (?), praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex, classroom sex, breeding!!, creampie (i'm a slut)

wc- 9.424k :) enjoy!

a/n- wrote this within the universe of suddenly, the star i studied was you, but it isn't the official second part i have in mind! could be read as a standalone, but i'm incredibly proud of that fic, so go give it some love :D i don't really know if this keeps up with the personalities i had written in that fic though, apologies :')

synopsis- it's been a few weeks since your 'confrontation'. what has changed? what will change?

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches - comment or dm to be added :)

The classroom felt quieter than usual, the soft hum of the projector echoing in the background as Natasha’s voice droned on about particle physics. But even the intricate equations and complex theories weren’t enough to distract you from the tension that had settled between the two of you. It had been weeks since that night—the night when your worlds collided in a haze of heat and emotion, and despite your best efforts, neither of you had been able to forget it.

Natasha’s demeanour had been mostly collected—calm, composed, the epitome of professionalism. But there were cracks in her carefully constructed facade. You noticed it in the way her hand occasionally trembled when she picked up the chalk, the slight hesitation in her voice when her eyes accidentally found yours in the sea of students. It was subtle, but you could feel it, the way her walls were crumbling bit by bit.

Your own mind wasn’t much better. Each time you saw her standing at the front of the room, dressed in that form-fitting blazer or the sleek black dress she wore today, her glasses perched delicately on her nose, it took every ounce of self-control to stay composed. Every word she uttered, every gesture she made, sent your mind racing back to that night—the feel of her body pressed against yours, the way she had whispered your name as if it were the only word that mattered.

But now, all you could do was sit there, waiting, watching her, trying to keep the memories at bay as she continued her lecture.

As the hours drew to a close, Natasha cleared her throat, her eyes darting around the room as if to avoid yours altogether. "That's all for today," she said, her voice clipped, too formal. "We'll continue this discussion next class. Don’t forget your assignments."

The students began to pack up their things, the usual chatter filling the air, but you stayed seated, watching her carefully. Your heart beat a little faster when you saw her glance at you out of the corner of her eye, her posture stiffening ever so slightly. She was trying to ignore it, pretending everything was fine, but the tension between you was undeniable.

As the last student left the room, silence descended, and Natasha stood at the front of the room, her back to you as she gathered her things. It was now or never. You took a deep breath and stood, making your way toward her desk.

“Professor Romanoff,” you began, your voice steady yet low, the sound echoing in the empty classroom. The name felt bitter on your tongue, a reminder of the professionalism that hung heavily between you. You longed to call her something softer, something that reflected the intimacy you had shared—and wanted to share—rather than the formality that now seemed to stretch endlessly in the air around you.

Natasha froze for a moment before turning to face you. Her green eyes met yours, that mask of professionalism slipping for just a second. You could see it—the flicker of uncertainty, the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks.

"Yes?" she replied, her tone betraying the calm she tried so hard to project. Her fingers fidgeted with a stack of papers, her usual confidence wavering.

"I was hoping we could talk," you said, taking a step closer. "About… the last few weeks."

Her gaze hardened for a moment, the formality snapping back into place. "I don’t think that’s appropriate. We should keep things professional between us."

Her words were sharp, meant to create distance, but there was a tremor in her voice that betrayed her. You weren’t deterred.

“I agree,” you said, voice smooth. “But that has still been impossible, hasn’t it? Has anything changed since that night? What are your true feelings for me, Nata– Professor? Not the ones you’re pretending to have.””

She blinked at you, her breath catching in her throat, though she tried to remain unfazed. But you saw it—the way her chest rose and fell just a little quicker, the way her gaze flickered to your lips for just a split second before she could stop herself.

The silence between you grew heavier, the air thick with the weight of unsaid words, of unacknowledged yet shared emotions. And then, without another word, you took another step forward, close enough now that the heat of her body radiated into yours.

"Natasha," you said, completely dropping the formal title, your voice a little softer, but still firm. "I’m not asking for much. Just… an honest conversation.”

She swallowed hard, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. You could see the internal battle waging inside her—the part of her that clung desperately to control, to keep everything professional, and the part of her that couldn’t deny the connection between you, the one that had begun to blossom hours before she saw you in class that day. The tension was palpable, her defences cracking, and in that moment, you knew she was struggling just as much as you were.

Her eyes flickered with hesitation, like she was testing the weight of the silence between you, trying to find a way to speak without losing herself. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she sighed, her shoulders slumping just the tiniest bit as she let the tension leave her body.

“Fine,” she whispered, her gaze still locked on yours. “Talk.”

You waited for your words to come, expecting the flood of emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface. But instead, you stood frozen in the quiet, your lips parting and closing again, as if the truth you wanted to say was too heavy to let out. The silence pressed between you, thick and unyielding.

Her hands moved instinctively, adjusting the papers in her grasp, shuffling them just to give herself something to hold on to. You noticed how she avoided your eyes, her usual confidence in the classroom slipping, replaced by an uncertainty that hung in the air.

Without thinking, you stepped forward again, regaining control over your swirling thoughts. The tension between you felt alive, buzzing in the air that now seemed far too small for both of you. The need to reach out, to touch her, was almost unbearable, but you held back, grounding yourself in the moment. Your eyes never left the constellations of freckles on her skin, the silent pull between you growing stronger, as if even the smallest movement could shatter the fragile restraint she was trying so hard to keep.

"What’s wrong, Nat?” Your voice cut through the silence, low and wavering. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks."

Her breath hitched at the sound of her name on your lips. It was a simple thing, just the use of her usual nickname, but it shattered the fragile boundary she had been trying so hard to maintain.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” she said, but her words felt weak. You could tell she didn’t believe them herself.

“Really?” you challenged, a faint smirk tugging at your lips as you reached out to brush a piece of chalk dust from her shoulder. The touch was innocent enough, but the way her breath caught in her throat told you all you needed to know. She was unravelling, bit by bit.

“Maybe I should leave,” she murmured, her voice shaky, as she tried to step back. But there was no conviction behind the words. Her eyes were still locked on yours, her pupils wide and dark.

“You could,” you said softly, not moving an inch. “But we both know you won’t.”

Natasha blinked, déjà vu coursing through her veins, her chest rising and falling more rapidly now. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and you couldn’t help but follow the motion, drawn in by the subtle, unconscious act. She was trying so hard to keep herself together, but you could see it—the way her bravado was cracking, the controlled exterior fraying at the edges. The tension between you wasn’t just palpable; it was suffocating. You could almost hear the moment it all started to slip from her grasp, the walls she built slowly crumbling under the weight of what you both refused to say.

You took one more step, now standing right in front of her, close enough that you could feel the heat of her body. Slowly, you raised your hand, letting your fingers brush her chin, tilting her head up slightly. Natasha’s breath stuttered at the contact, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment as she leaned into the touch.

“We shouldn’t…” she started, her voice barely a whisper, but the protest sounded weak, almost as if she was trying to convince herself rather than you.

“Tell me to stop,” you murmured, your thumb brushing across her bottom lip, testing the limits of her restraint. “If that’s really what you want.”

She didn’t answer, her lips parting as if to respond, but before you could register what was happening, Natasha took a step back.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. The abrupt movement left you standing there, frozen, watching as she distanced herself from you, her gaze flickering towards the door. For a split second, dread hit you like a shockwave, the weight of misunderstanding settling like a boulder in your chest. Had you pushed too far? Misread everything?

Panic surged through you, wild and untethered. The idea of losing her—Natasha—before you even had the chance to really feel her, to care for her, to love her sent a crushing ache through your chest. You felt the bottom drop out from beneath you, the gravity between you threatening to tear the moment apart. Already, your heart was breaking at the thought.

“I—” you began, voice unsteady, but she was already moving. Her back was to you, and the sound of the door clicking shut was loud in the suddenly suffocating room. Then, a heavier sound followed—the door locking.

When she turned back around, the hesitation was gone. Natasha crossed the space between you with slow, deliberate steps, her eyes fixed on yours. The intensity in her gaze made your breath catch again, but this time for a different reason entirely.

Without a word, Natasha’s hands came up to cradle your face, her fingers curling gently but firmly along your jaw. Her touch was warm, steady, grounding you, and it sent a ripple of relief through you so strong it almost left you breathless.

“Now you know how I felt when you did the exact same thing,” she whispered, her voice soft, but the amusement in it unmistakable.

The smile that tugged at your lips was involuntary, but it was there nonetheless, breaking through the storm of emotion you had been drowning in. Natasha’s lips quirked up too, her thumb brushing over your cheekbone as she leaned in. The atmosphere shifted again—less tense, but still thick with unspoken want.

She tilted her head and pulled you into her. The kiss was slow at first, almost tentative, as if she was savouring every second of it. Her lips fit against yours like two celestial bodies coming into alignment, each touch sending sparks through you, igniting something deep in your chest. You could feel her, soft but determined, as if she had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had.

The air around you felt electric, the pull between you undeniable. It was like gravity—impossible to fight, binding you both in a force neither of you could resist. Natasha's lips parted slightly as the kiss deepened, her fingers tightening around your jaw as her body pressed against yours, the space between you collapsing entirely.

It felt like the universe itself had shifted, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The room, the locked door, the rules, all dissolved into nothing. It was just you and Natasha, caught in this perfect, inevitable collision. The weight of reality slipped from your shoulders, leaving behind only the two of you—two strangers in a bar who had been destined to meet, destined to cross paths in ways you couldn’t have predicted.

Destined to be.

Her mouth was warm, her breath soft and shaky as it mingled with yours, and you couldn’t help but revel in the taste of her. She tasted like infinity, like the moment right before the stars explode into life.

When she finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, her green eyes wide and filled with something raw and vulnerable. She looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, like every molecule of her being was drawn to you, unable to resist.

"You could’ve told me," you murmured, still slightly breathless, a smile curling at the corners of your lips.

Natasha’s hand remained cradling your face, her thumb stroking lightly over your skin. "And miss seeing the look on your face?" she replied, a quiet laugh escaping her lips. But her eyes, despite the teasing tone, were filled with a soft intensity that made your heart swell.

Her other hand came to rest on your chest, right over your heart. "You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability in it palpable. "How long I’ve thought about it."

Your breath caught in your throat at her words, and before you could respond, Natasha’s lips were on yours again, more insistent this time. The kiss was rougher, more desperate, her need bleeding into the way her body moved against yours. You could feel her pulse quickening, matching the wild rhythm of your own heart.

Her hands slid down to grip your hips, pulling you closer until there was nothing left between you but blossoming love. The universe outside may have been vast and cold, but here, in this moment, all the stars burned just for the two of you.

The heat between you was palpable, an unspoken gravity pulling you toward each other, and you let it take you. There was no need to resist. Not now. Not when she felt so close, so real, as if every point in space had led to this singular, inevitable moment.

Her lips trailed down the curve of your jaw, sending shivers through you, as her hands slipped under your shirt, the cool air hitting your skin for just a moment before her warmth replaced it.

With a slow, deliberate motion, your hand traced down her side, coming to rest on the hem of her black dress. You didn’t rush, savouring the sensation of her skin beneath your fingertips, the way her breath hitched when you tugged her dress up, revealing the soft red lace of her underwear.

Your fingers grazed her thighs, and Natasha shivered at the touch, her breath coming quicker. Her hands were on your neck now, but her grip tightened as your fingers found the edge of her panties, tugging them gently to the side. The sight of her, so open and vulnerable in front of you, sent a surge of warmth through your chest.

You glanced up at her, silently asking for permission, and she gave a small nod, biting her lip as she leaned back slightly on her hands, her legs parting just a little more.

Lowering yourself to your knees, you settled between her legs, your hands resting on her thighs as you pressed a soft kiss just above her knee. You could feel Natasha’s breath falter as you kissed your way up her leg, your lips leaving a trail of warmth against her skin. The closer you got to her core, the more her body responded—her chest rising and falling, her lips slightly parted, and her hands gripping the edge of the desk as if she needed something to anchor her.

When your lips finally reached her centre, you didn’t rush. You kissed her softly at first, savouring the taste of her, keeping her panties pushed to the side. Natasha let out a quiet gasp, her body tensing for a moment before relaxing under your touch. The warmth of her against your lips was intoxicating, and you felt the gentle tremble of her thighs as you began to explore her with slow, deliberate movements.

You took your time, tracing your tongue along the delicate folds of her, each flick and swirl eliciting a soft whimper from her lips. Her fingers tangled in your hair, urging you closer as if she wanted to pull you into her very being. You could feel her heartbeat quickening, the way her breath hitched as you lavished attention on her most sensitive spots.

You could feel how much she wanted this, how much she needed it. Her breathing became shallow, her body arching slightly toward you as you continued your slow, rhythmic motions. Every time your tongue flicked against her, her hips lifted just a little, as if chasing the feeling, as if trying to get closer to the pleasure she had denied herself for so long.

The classroom was filled with the sound of her quiet gasps and the soft, wet sounds of your mouth moving against her. Your hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as she lost herself to the sensation, her body trembling with each flick of your tongue.

Natasha's head tipped back, her mouth falling open as the pleasure built inside her. You could feel her body tightening, her thighs trembling against your cheeks as she got closer to the edge. There was something so raw, so incredibly real about seeing her like this again—vulnerable, open, completely consumed by the moment.

You quickened your pace, your tongue swirling in a way that made Natasha’s hips jerk upward, a louder moan slipping from her lips. She was close now, her breaths coming in short, desperate bursts. Her hands found the back of your head, her fingers threading through your hair, holding you in place as she rode the waves of pleasure.

Her body tensed, and for a brief moment, everything seemed to stop—the air between you still, her breath caught in her throat. And then, with a shuddering gasp, Natasha fell apart above you, her body convulsing as the orgasm washed over her in waves. Her legs tightened around your head, her hips bucking as she rode out the pleasure, her hands gripping your hair so tightly it almost hurt.

You didn’t stop, not until you had wrung every last bit of pleasure from her, not until Natasha collapsed back onto the desk, her chest heaving, her body trembling from the aftershocks. You slowly pulled away, pressing a final soft kiss to her inner thigh before standing, wiping your mouth as you looked at her.

She was a vision—her hair dishevelled, her skin flushed, and her eyes glassy with the aftermath of her release. And yet, even in her most vulnerable moment, she looked at you with such intensity, such unspoken emotion, that it took your breath away.

Still catching her breath, Natasha reached for you, pulling herself up toward you. You could see the hunger in her eyes, the unspoken need for more. And without a word, she slid off the desk and onto her knees in front of you, her hands making quick work of your belt as her eyes never left yours.

Natasha’s hands moved with a newfound urgency, trembling slightly as she worked the buckle of your belt. Her breath was still ragged, her cheeks flushed from the intensity of her orgasm, but there was no hesitation in her movements—just raw need. As soon as she freed you, her eyes flickered up to meet yours, a fire igniting behind them that sent a shiver down your spine.

Her lips parted, soft and full, as she leaned forward, brushing them against the tip of your length in a delicate, almost reverent kiss. The gentleness of it was a sharp contrast to the storm of emotions swirling between you. You could feel the warmth of her breath ghosting over your skin, and it made every inch of your body hum with anticipation.

Without breaking eye contact, Natasha opened her mouth wider, her tongue flicking out to taste you, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity straight through you. She started slow, her lips wrapping around you with a softness that had your knees nearly buckling. Her tongue worked gently, teasing the sensitive skin as she took you deeper into her mouth, inch by inch. The wet heat of her mouth surrounded you, and the quiet sound of her sucking softly filled the air.

You let out a quiet groan, your hands instinctively finding purchase in her hair, gripping gently as Natasha began to move her head, establishing a rhythm that was both slow and deliberate. Each bob of her head sent a surge of pleasure through you, and you could feel the tightness in your chest building, the way your body responded to the way she worked her mouth over you.

Natasha’s hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as she continued, her lips gliding over you with memorised precision. She hollowed her cheeks, the suction pulling you deeper, and every time she pulled back, her tongue swirled around the head in a way that made you gasp, the pressure mounting in your core.

But she wasn’t content with keeping it soft for long.

Her hands slid to the base of your shaft, gripping you with just the right amount of pressure as she took you deeper. The first time she tried to swallow you whole, she gagged slightly, her throat constricting around you. The lewd, wet sound that followed made your head spin. But instead of pulling away, Natasha pushed herself further, determined to take all of you.

You could feel her struggling for control, her throat spasming around you as she worked to accommodate your size. The sensation was overwhelming—her warm, tight throat constricting as she swallowed around you, her lips stretched tight around your length. The sounds she made were filthy, the wet slurp of her mouth working over you mingling with her occasional gagging, and each one sent a jolt of pleasure straight through your body.

The more she struggled, the harder you felt yourself throbbing in her mouth. Natasha was relentless now, her pace quickening as she took you deeper with every pass. You could feel the tip of your cock brushing the back of her throat, the wet gagging sounds becoming more frequent as she pushed herself further, determined to take all of you, no matter the effort it took.

You groaned deeply, your grip on her hair tightening as your hips started to move on their own, thrusting into her mouth in time with her motions. Natasha didn’t pull back. If anything, she welcomed it, her hands gripping your thighs harder as she let you guide her, her eyes fluttering closed as she focused on the pleasure she was giving you.

It wasn’t long before you felt the telltale signs of your climax building—the tight coil in your core, the way your muscles tensed with each thrust into her eager mouth. Natasha must have felt it too, because she moaned around you, the vibration sending you spiralling closer to the edge.

"Natasha—" you gasped, trying to warn her, but she didn’t stop. If anything, she only became more determined, her pace quickening, her mouth working harder as she sucked you off with reckless abandon. Her throat constricted around you again, the lewd, obscene sounds she made echoing in your ears as your climax loomed just seconds away.

You felt the first wave hit you hard, your body tensing as your release surged through you. Natasha moaned as you came, her mouth still wrapped tightly around you as she swallowed greedily, not missing a single drop. The sensation of her throat working to swallow everything only heightened the intensity of your orgasm, and your hips bucked against her mouth as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

She didn’t pull away until you were spent, her lips and tongue still gently teasing you as she coaxed every last bit from you, ensuring there wasn’t a trace left. When she finally pulled back, her lips glistened with saliva, and her cheeks were flushed. She looked up at you with a satisfied gleam in her eyes, licking her lips as if savouring the taste of you.

For a moment, all you could do was stand there, chest heaving, completely undone by the sight of her on her knees, her breath heavy and uneven as she gazed up at you, her lips still swollen from the effort. The look she gave you was nothing short of triumphant, like she had conquered something within herself, and the sight made your heart race all over again.

Natasha rose from her knees, her body still trembling with the aftermath of the intensity between you. Her lips parted as she stood before you, her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps. You could see the raw emotion in her eyes—desire, need, something deeper that neither of you could yet name. Her hands reached for you, delicate fingers brushing against your jaw as she leaned in, pressing her forehead gently against yours.

For a moment, everything was quiet. The world outside faded to a dull hum, and all that remained was the warmth of Natasha’s body so close to yours, the lingering taste of her still on your lips. Her breath mingled with yours as she hovered just a breath away, her eyes searching your face like she was trying to memorise every detail. Then, with a soft sigh, she closed the distance, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it almost brought tears to your eyes.

It was soft at first—tender, vulnerable, as if she was offering a part of herself that she had kept secluded for too long. You could feel the warmth of her lips, the way they trembled slightly against yours, like she was scared to give in completely but couldn’t hold back anymore. Her hands cupped your face, her fingers threading into your hair as she deepened the kiss, her need growing more insistent.

The softness of her lips pressed against yours sent waves of heat through you, but it wasn’t just desire—it was something more profound. You could feel the emotion behind every touch, the vulnerability in the way her lips moved against yours, as if she was pouring every unsaid word, every hidden feeling, into that kiss. It was a surrender, a trust that left your heart racing and your hands instinctively wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space between you.

Natasha melted into you, her body pressing into yours as the kiss deepened. Her breath hitched as your hands slid up her back, your fingers tracing the curve of her spine, drawing her even closer. Her lips parted, and she let out a soft, needy moan that sent a shiver down your spine. The tenderness between you was starting to unravel, replaced by something more desperate, more consuming.

The kiss grew rougher, more urgent, and Natasha seemed to lose herself in it. Her hands gripped your shoulders for balance as her body pressed hard against yours. You could feel the way her chest heaved against you, her pulse quickening as her need overtook her. The softness of the moment shattered into something raw, and Natasha almost fell into you, pushing you backward until the chair behind you caught you off guard.

You fell back into the chair, the force of her body against yours making your breath catch. Natasha hovered above you for a heartbeat, her eyes dark with lust, her lips swollen and wet from both the kiss and your release. Her hands moved quickly, efficiently, as she straddled your lap, one leg on either side of you, her thighs pressing against your hips. She was wild now, driven by pure need, and you could feel it in every hurried movement, every rough kiss she pressed to your mouth.

With a low, needy moan, Natasha reached down, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties. She didn’t waste any time—didn’t hesitate—before taking them off quickly, exposing herself to you. The sight of her, ready, desperate, and completely bare, had your heart pounding in your chest. The slick heat of her pressed against you, the warmth of her thighs enveloping your hips as she positioned herself above you, sent a jolt of electricity straight through your core.

You could feel her trembling against you, her body so close, so needy, as she slowly moved over your shaft. Her wetness coated you as she aligned herself, the tip of your length brushing against her entrance, and you both let out a sharp gasp at the contact. Natasha’s hands clutched at your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as she bit her lip, her eyes fluttering shut for just a moment as she adjusted to the sensation.

The heat between your bodies was overwhelming, the tension thick in the air as Natasha lowered herself onto you. Inch by inch, she took you, the tight heat of her enveloping you as she slid down, her thighs pressing tighter against your hips. The sensation of her, so warm and wet and ready for you, had your breath stuttering in your throat. You could feel every tremor of her body, every shaky exhale she let out as she took all of you.

Natasha paused when you were fully seated inside her, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as she adjusted to the fullness of you. Her hands moved from your shoulders to your face, cupping your cheeks as she leaned in, pressing her forehead against yours again. Her eyes were half-lidded, dark with desire, but there was still that hint of vulnerability, that moment of quiet between the storm as she let herself feel everything.

The connection between you was palpable, electric, as Natasha began to move. Slowly at first, her hips rolled in gentle, deliberate motions, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through both of you. You could feel the heat of her skin against yours, the slick slide of her body as she rode you, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. Her breath was ragged, her moans quiet but full of need as she moved against you, her thighs tightening around your hips with every motion.

Your hands found her waist, guiding her as she moved, feeling the way her body responded to you with every thrust. The heat between you grew unbearable, the way she moved—slow at first, savouring every inch of you—driving you both mad with need. Each roll of her hips sent you deeper inside her, and you could feel the tight clench of her body around you, pulling you deeper with each movement.

But it wasn’t enough for her. Natasha’s need overtook her, and her pace quickened, her hips slamming down harder, rougher, as she lost herself in the pleasure. Her moans grew louder, her breath hitching every time you filled her. The lewd, wet sounds of her body moving against yours filled the air, mingling with the sharp gasps and moans that escaped her lips.

She was wild now, her movements frantic as she chased her release, her fingers gripping your shoulders so tightly you were sure they’d leave marks. But you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the overwhelming sensation of her, the way she moved against you, the heat and tightness of her surrounding you as she rode you harder, faster.

You could feel the tension building again, the coil of pleasure tightening in your core as Natasha moved against you, her moans growing louder, more desperate with every second. You could feel her body trembling, the way her thighs quivered as she rode you, her need for release overtaking everything else.

Natasha’s pace quickened, the rhythm of her hips growing more urgent, her body seeking yours with a desperate need that matched your own. The way she moved, the way her body clenched around you—it was raw, electric, and yet there was still an underlying softness to her, a vulnerability that made the moment even more intense.

Her moans filled the air, breathless and ragged, each one sending waves of heat straight to your core. You could feel her hands gripping your shoulders tighter, her nails digging into your skin as she rode you harder, faster, her need consuming her. Her thighs pressed tight against your sides, her body moving with an almost instinctual hunger, and yet each roll of her hips was accompanied by a shuddering breath, a whisper of something deeper than just lust.

Your hands slid down to her hips, gripping her tightly as you guided her movements, feeling the slick heat of her skin under your palms. The connection between you was electric, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through every nerve in your body. Each thrust brought her closer, her body trembling against you as she pushed herself closer to the edge.

The sound of her—the obscene, wet sounds of her body moving against yours, the breathless moans that escaped her lips—drove you wild. Every gasp, every tremor of her body, pulled you deeper into her, and you could feel the tension building in your own body, the tight coil of pleasure winding tighter with every thrust.

Natasha’s head tilted back, her eyes fluttering shut as her lips parted in a silent cry of pleasure. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body shivering against yours as she rode the waves of sensation, her movements growing more frantic. You could feel the way her body tightened around you, the way she clenched with every thrust, pulling you deeper, harder.

You leaned up, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans as your hands slid up her back, pulling her flush against you. Natasha responded with a desperate, needy whine, her body arching into yours as she gave in completely to the moment. Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as she kissed you like she couldn’t get enough, her lips moving with a hunger that mirrored the wild rhythm of her hips.

The room was thick with the sounds of your bodies moving together, the wet slide of her against you, the ragged breaths and moans filling the air as the tension between you built to a fever pitch. You could feel her trembling, the way her body shuddered with every thrust, her nails digging into your skin as she lost herself in the pleasure.

But it still wasn’t enough.

With a growl of frustration, Natasha broke the kiss, her breath coming in harsh gasps as she pulled back, her eyes wild with need. Her hands gripped your shoulders, her body shaking with the force of her desire, and before you could react, she pushed herself off of you, standing on trembling legs as she backed away.

Her chest heaved with every breath, her lips swollen from your kiss, her eyes dark with lust as she stared at you, her body glistening with sweat. She didn’t say a word, didn’t need to—her intentions were clear in the way she moved, the way her hands reached out for you.

You barely had time to register her next movement before she was on you again, grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you up from the chair. The force of it sent you stumbling, but Natasha was relentless, her fingers gripping your arm with surprising strength as she pulled you toward the nearest wall. Her back slammed against it with a rough thud, but she didn’t seem to care. She was too far gone, too consumed by the raw, animalistic need that had overtaken her.

Her hands were on you again, pulling you closer, her body arching into yours as she pressed her hips against you, grinding in desperate, wild movements. The friction between your bodies sent jolts of pleasure through you, and you could feel the heat of her, slick and ready, as she ground herself against you.

"More," she gasped, her voice raw, barely more than a whisper as her lips brushed against your ear. "I want more."

Her demand was primal, almost a growl, and it sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You didn’t hesitate. Your hands were on her in an instant, rough and demanding as you grabbed her hips, lifting her with ease and pinning her to the wall. Natasha let out a sharp gasp, her legs wrapping around your waist as she clung to you, her nails raking down your back as she bucked against you, desperate for the release you both craved.

The world outside faded into nothing as you slammed into her, hard and fast, your hips driving into her with a force that sent her head tilting back against the wall. The sounds that tore from her throat were obscene—loud, lewd moans that echoed in the room, mingling with the wet slap of skin against skin as you fucked her with a raw, primal intensity.

Natasha’s body arched off the wall, her chest pressing against yours as she moaned your name, her voice breaking with every thrust. She was wild, lost in the moment, her legs tightening around your waist as she rocked against you, meeting every thrust with an equal fervour. The feel of her, so tight and hot around you, was almost overwhelming, and it took everything in you to keep your pace steady, rough, giving her everything she wanted—everything she needed.

Her hands found your face, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you into a bruising kiss, her lips moving desperately against yours. Her tongue slid against yours, hungry, needy, as if she couldn’t get enough of you. Every kiss was like fire, every touch igniting something deep within you.

Your bodies moved in perfect sync, a wild, chaotic rhythm that sent you both hurtling toward the edge. Natasha’s breath came in sharp gasps, her moans filling the air as her body tightened around you, her thighs trembling as she clung to you, her nails biting into your shoulders. You could feel her close, so close, and the thought of her unravelling in your arms only spurred you on, pushing harder, faster, until neither of you could take it anymore.

Natasha cried out, her head falling back against the wall as her body shuddered around you, her release hitting her like a tidal wave. The tight, slick heat of her pulsed around you, pulling you under as you followed her over the edge, your own release tearing through you with an intensity that left you breathless.

With a final thrust, you felt yourself spilling into Natasha, the sensation of warmth flooding her as you lost yourself in the pleasure of release. The world around you blurred, eclipsed by the intensity of the moment—her body pulsing around you, squeezing you tight as she milked every drop from you, her own breathless gasps mingling with yours.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her head tilting back against the wall as she surrendered to the overwhelming sensation. The heat of you filling her was unlike anything she’d felt before—a hot wave crashing over her as pleasure washed through her, leaving her breathless. She could feel every drop, the warmth spreading inside her, a tingling aftershock that made her pulse quicken even further. “God, yes,” she whispered, lost in the moment, her voice thick with desire and something deeper—something that had been brewing between you for so long.

Your own sensations were intoxicating, the feel of her surrounding you, the way her body reacted to every movement, every pulse of pleasure. You could hardly contain yourself, the mixture of euphoria and satisfaction consuming you as you revelled in the intimate connection you shared. There was something breathtaking about finishing inside her, about the trust, the intimacy, and the undeniable bond that felt more tangible than ever before.

As the waves of pleasure began to ebb, you cradled Natasha in your arms, her body trembling slightly as you pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. The intimacy of the moment lingered between you, and you both took a moment to breathe, hearts racing in sync. But soon, the practicality of the classroom flooded back in, and you gently guided Natasha back to the desk.

With a quick motion, you pushed aside her papers and markers, sending them tumbling to the floor with a soft thud. The suddenness of it all made Natasha scowl at you, though her eyes still held a spark of ecstasy. “Those were my actual papers, you know. Students’ exams, assignments,” she said, her voice mockingly stern but the flush in her cheeks betraying her arousal.

You shrugged, a playful smirk creeping onto your lips. “I promise I’ll clean up for you later.” Then, without hesitation, you slowly ground yourself into her, drawing a low, needy moan from her lips.

Her expression shifted, that scowl faltering as pleasure flickered in her eyes, but she quickly regained her composure, some of her confidence returning. She shook her head, grabbing you by your tie with a firm grip. “Clean up now.”

“Alright, alright!” you laughed, pulling out of her with a reluctant groan, the sensation of leaving her tight warmth making your body ache for her again. You hurriedly gathered the scattered papers and markers, your heart racing not just from the lingering pleasure, but from the silly urgency of the moment.

Once everything was piled neatly on the other side of her desk, you turned back to find Natasha waiting for you, her legs spread wide and her gaze sultry, yet commanding. There was a newfound softness to her submission, a flicker of vulnerability beneath that confident exterior.

“Look at what you’ve done,” she teased, her voice low and laced with satisfaction. She shifted slightly, showcasing the aftermath of your union—a glistening creampie that had pooled at her entrance. The sight sent a rush of heat straight to your core, desire rekindling in an instant.

The sight of her, flushed and beautiful, a mixture of confidence and submission, made your breath hitch. You took a step closer, captivated by her, by the warmth of the moment and the spark of something new blooming between you. The playful tension hung thick in the air, a sweet promise of what was to come.

You couldn’t help but be captivated by the sight of Natasha sprawled out before you, her body a beautiful mess of satisfaction and desire. With a mix of awe and urgency, you knelt down and gently lifted her legs, holding them up to give yourself a better view. The sight of your shared release oozing from her made your breath catch—an intoxicating mix of both of you, a physical testament to what you had just shared.

It kept coming, slow and steady, and you felt a surge of possessiveness wash over you. Mesmerised, you simply looked, taking in every detail—the way her slickness glistened against her soft skin, the way her breathing still quivered with remnants of pleasure. Natasha chuckled gently, her eyes sparkling as she took in your reaction, the rough moments from before fading into a sweet memory. “Come here, Дорога́я [Darling],” she murmured, caressing your cheek with her delicate fingers.

Before you could fully respond, she pulled you back in with a gentle tug on your tie, a smirk playing at her lips. The heat of her touch made your cheeks flush deeper, and you made a mental note to wear a tie more often, just for her. As her legs shifted, wrapping around your waist, the connection between you deepened, the weight of her body pressing against you in the most inviting way.

You gently pushed back inside her, entering her again with a deliberate slowness that drew a soft sigh from her lips. The warmth enveloped you, a beautiful contrast to the cool air of the room, and you could feel the shared release mixing with the sensation of her body welcoming you back in. It felt like coming home. The trust between you was palpable, an unspoken agreement that only strengthened the shared bond.

Natasha’s gaze locked onto yours, and in that moment, you could see the love blooming beneath the layers of your physical connection. There was a softness in her eyes, an openness that melted the remnants of your earlier roughness. You felt possessive, yet tender, wanting to cherish this moment, to worship her as she surrendered beneath you. Each thrust was deliberate, coaxing soft whimpers from her lips, and the way she arched into you only fueled your desire to give her everything.

“Look at you,” you breathed, your voice thick with emotion as you watched her face, her expression a mix of vulnerability and trust. She smiled back, a small, knowing grin that sent a thrill down your spine. In her gaze, you saw a world of possibilities, a future that began right here, right now. And you couldn't wait to explore it with her.

With each movement, you found yourself lost in her, in the way she surrendered, in the way she filled your heart with warmth. The trust was unbreakable, and as you held her close, cradling her like the treasure she was, you knew you’d do anything to keep her safe—body and soul.

You couldn’t get enough of Natasha—her warmth, her softness, the way she surrendered to you completely. As you pound into her, the desk creaked beneath you, a quiet reminder of the chaos you had just created. Your body hovered over hers, and you allowed yourself to drink in the sight of her in this exact moment—hair splayed across the desk, cheeks flushed, and those captivating eyes shimmering with a mixture of desire and trust.

With a tender touch, you lowered yourself to her, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both soft and passionate. It felt like an unspoken promise, a reminder of the connection that bound you two together. Natasha melted beneath you, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer, deepening the kiss with a fervour that ignited your own desire.

The world around you seemed to fade once again, leaving only the two of you in this intimate bubble, but as the kiss deepened, a fire ignited within you. You began to move faster, harder against her, your body fitting against hers in the most delicious way, feeling every inch of her against you. The warmth of her skin beneath your fingertips sent shivers down your spine, a stark contrast to the cool wood of the desk beneath her.

You settled into a rhythm, wanting to savour the moment, the way she responded to you. Her breath hitched, a soft moan escaping her lips as you hit that perfect spot, drawing forth more of those loving, yet utterly pornographic sounds that filled the room.

“Just like that,” she breathed, her voice thick with pleasure. “Please, don’t stop.”

Her encouragement was like a spark, igniting something primal within you. You pushed deeper, your pace quickening as the need to feel her completely enveloped you. As you pressed into her, you could feel her pulling you closer by your tie, the connection between you becoming more electrifying with each tug.

But as the intensity built, so did the chaos of the moment. Your movements became slightly rougher, the desk creaking more beneath the force of your passion, and you felt the neatly stacked papers you had just organised go flying in a flurry, scattering across the floor like fallen leaves. A soft gasp escaped Natasha as she looked at the mess, her expression a mixture of amusement and desire.

“Oops,” you murmured, a grin breaking across your face as you continued your relentless pace, not willing to let the interruption slow you down. The laughter that bubbled up from Natasha turned into a series of moans as she found her rhythm with you again, her pleasure rising higher.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she gasped, her legs wrapping tighter around your waist, urging you deeper.

You couldn’t help but comply, your desire morphing into something more intense, more commanding. You felt powerful, her submission only fueling your fire, and as you took charge, you could see her surrendering completely.

“Tell me how it feels,” you demanded softly, your breath ghosting over her ear, and you felt her shudder beneath you.

“More,” she moaned, shaking her head, her voice thick with need. “I need more.”

That simple command ignited your desire further. You focused your thrusts, pulling back just enough to thrust back in harder, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the air. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through both of you, and as her moans grew louder, you felt her body tightening around you, drawing you in deeper.

With every thrust, you pushed her closer to the edge, feeling her body respond so eagerly to yours, the world outside fading into nothingness. The connection between you was raw, electric, and as Natasha’s fingers tightened in your hair, you felt a rush of pride wash over you. She could be yours—this beautiful woman beneath you, completely yours to love and cherish.

With every thrust, the tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core, a delicious pressure building that threatened to overwhelm you. You could feel the heat radiating between your bodies, the raw intimacy wrapping around you both like a warm blanket. Natasha's body responded eagerly, urging you on with every moan and whimper, her legs still tightly wrapped around your waist as if she never wanted to let you go.

“Please,” she gasped, her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. “Inside. W’na feel you, please.”

Those words sent a bolt of electricity through you, pushing you closer to the edge. The way she begged for you only heightened your desire, your body moving in a desperate rhythm, driven by an instinctual need to fill her. The universe stood still as you surrendered to the moment, pouring every ounce of yourself into her.

As you felt the wave building, your heart raced in tandem with your body, anticipation igniting every nerve ending. “Natasha…” you gasped, feeling the overwhelming pull of pleasure.

“Да [Yes], yes! Please!” she urged, her voice a desperate whisper as the connection between you ignited.

With a final, deep thrust, you felt the wave crash over you—an overwhelming rush of pleasure that sent you spiralling into ecstasy. You released inside her, warmth flooding both your bodies as the sheer amount of your orgasm spilled into her. It felt electric, each pulse of your release sending shockwaves through Natasha’s body.

Her moans turned into gasps, the sound rising from deep within her, a symphony of pleasure that reverberated against your chest. The sensation was overwhelming—her walls clenching around you, tighter and tighter, as if trying to draw every last drop deeper inside her. “Oh m– s’too much!” Natasha gasped, her breath hitching as her eyes widened, a mix of pleasure and surprise washing over her features. “Cлишком много, пожалуйста, слишком много, ещё— [Too much, please, too much, more]” The urgency in her voice sent a thrill through you, igniting a possessive fire as you felt her body shudder in response to your release. The warmth of your orgasm mixed with the slickness of her arousal created a heady sensation, drawing you closer together, deeper into this moment of blissful intimacy. You could feel her heartbeat, wild and frantic, echoing in time with yours, as her body quivered beneath you, a perfect melding of desire and urgency.

The kiss that followed was frantic, filled with the taste of each other’s desperation, but in the frenzy, you didn’t notice as a final spurt escaped, landing directly on her dress.

As the intensity faded, reality rushed back. You pulled away slightly, breathless and flushed, and that’s when you noticed the mess you’d made. Natasha’s laughter filled the air, bright and melodic, breaking the tension of the moment. “You’ve really done it this time,” she teased, the playful scowl back on her lips, even as her body betrayed her with soft, lingering shivers and twitches of pleasure. “Those were my students’ papers, you know! One of those is yours!”

You chuckled sheepishly, a small hint of embarrassment creeping in as you glanced at the scattered papers across the floor, remnants of your earlier chaos. “It was calculated,” you said, trying to sound earnest as you began to gather the papers back into a pile.

But just as you focused on tidying up, Natasha gasped, her eyes wide as she looked down at her dress, spotting the evidence of your earlier mistake. “Oh my god,” she said, shock mingling with delight. “You did NOT just—”

You couldn’t help but grin, your cheeks warming as the reality of your clumsiness hit you. “I didn’t mean to—”

Her gaze softened, and that familiar spark lit up her eyes again. “You’re lucky I’m so turned on right now,” she quipped, her lips curling into a playful smile. “But you might have to make it up to me.”

Once the papers were neatly stacked, you turned back to her, noticing her legs still slightly parted, a lingering invitation. But her gaze was focused on you, amusement dancing in her eyes, and you couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking.

“I can’t believe I’m falling for my clumsy student I met in a bar,” she said aloud, shaking her head in disbelief, even as a smile crept onto her lips. “They’re incredible at this—and at maths and physics—but my god, she’s such a mess.”

And in that moment, you felt a warmth swell in your chest, knowing that amidst the chaos, something beautiful was blooming between you both.

–

The soft hum of the engine filled the space between you, and as you glanced over at Natasha, you noticed the way her gaze lingered on you—like you were the entire universe contained within her eyes, the very centre of her galaxy. It made your heart swell with warmth and a sense of intimacy that felt brand new.

“So, what do you call this?” you asked, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. “I mean, since I’m not really your pet.” You furrowed your brow, feigning deep contemplation. “Teacher’s pet seems a bit off…”

Natasha couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head at your antics, her laughter bubbling up like sunlight piercing through clouds. “You’re a special case, you know that?” she replied, her eyes sparkling with delight. The confidence you wore so easily now intertwined beautifully with a vulnerability that both of you had shed in that classroom, revealing the deeper parts of your personalities that you’d kept hidden.

“So, are you a student’s pet, then?” you shot back, a teasing grin spreading across your face.

That made Natasha snort, a sound that was both unexpected and delightful. You couldn’t help but join in her laughter, the sound echoing through the car as you interlaced your fingers, feeling that shared warmth enveloping you both.

–

Once you were nestled together in her bed, the world outside faded into insignificance. The room felt like its own universe, wrapped in the glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. Your head rested on Natasha’s chest, her steady heartbeat beneath your ear like a soothing rhythm that kept you grounded. Your fingers traced the soft strands of her hair, twirling them gently, while her fingers danced across your back, tracing patterns that felt like constellations only the two of you could understand.

In the quiet, you could feel the depth of your connection, the vulnerability between you. After a moment, you looked up at her, heart fluttering with the memory of her earlier words. “You know,” you whispered, your voice soft and filled with affection, “your Russian was really attractive.”

Natasha chuckled, her fingers still tracing stars on your skin, her eyes filled with a warmth that seemed to encompass you entirely. She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Is that so?” she murmured, her tone playful but tender, her affection unmistakable as she continued to hold you close. Natasha's smile widened, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks as she looked at you with an expression that held both playfulness and sincerity, but mostly love.

#romugh slays #romugh writes #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #romugh's kt '24 #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson reader #bottom natasha romanoff

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 9 months ago

Text

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 2 ] || [ Chapter 4 ]

Pairing: Ghost x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: some sexual jokes/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 3: Simon

After doing the dishes, you moved yourself over to the living room and turned on the TV. Some rerun of an older season of Law and Order was playing.

You started watching but you found your eyes drifting back to your phone…

Against your better judgement, you clicked on the Tinder app icon again. Maybe, maybe you should swipe just a little more.

And so you did.

Today you said ‘Fuck you, Beyoncé’ and always went to the Right, to the Right.

Just as you were pondering another profile, the screen darkened with a ‘It’s a Match!’ notification, making you jump a bit, as usual.

You clicked the profile and your brow scrunched.

You didn’t remember liking this one… Though you obviously did, after all, you were liking everyone.

The only picture wasn’t even anything. It was dark and grainy and the man was wearing a black disposable face mask. If that even was him. Could just be a random picture off-Google, picked by someone who wanted to be anonymous. Not quite a catfish but close enough…

“Simon.” You said softly and dragged your finger through the screen to read his bio. For a moment you couldn’t help but smirk a little. He was sarcastic, a bit strange, but charismatic in his own way.

“Bad jokes, Bourbon, Discreet…” You mused while scanning his profile. “Tall enough.” You read aloud and couldn’t help but laugh at it. That made you feel like he was short.

Against your better judgement for the second time, you decided to send him a DM instead of waiting for him to. Something told you he wouldn’t.

you: tall enough - does that mean you’re below 6ft?

Simon: No.

Simon: Means that I have inches to spare.

you: was that a dick joke?

Simon: No.

Simon: Unless you wanted it to be.

You snorted softly under your breath. Of course he was a smart ass too…

you: ambiguous, i like it.

you: so how tall are you then?

Simon: Does it matter?

you: no. just curious.

Simon: 6ft4.

you: that feels like a lie.

Simon: I avoided putting it for a reason.

you: worried people would call you a liar?

Simon: No use. Going to be called it regardless.

you: that’s fair ig.

you: what’s a traveling consultant?

Simon: Similar to a contractor. Get brought in to help businesses all over the world.

you: what kind of businesses?

Simon: That’s need-to-know.

you: you type so formally and professionally jeez.

you: will i ever get to know?

Simon: Force of habit. Don’t text a lot.

Simon: Not if I can help it.

you: somehow i can tell.

you: what are you doing here then?

Simon: Curiosity mostly.

you: trying to see if you attract any fish? 👀

Simon: Something like that. A friend is on here. Wanted to see what all the fuss is about.

you: i see.

you: got anything yet?

Simon: No. But only created this 12 minutes ago.

you: am i your first then?

Simon: Not my first in anything, love.

Your eyes widened a bit and for some reason you found yourself getting a bit flustered, your face warming up just a bit.

you: does that mean you’ve hooked up with people through a dating app before?

Simon: Something of the sorts.

you: aw, im really not going to be your first.

Simon: That’s alright. You can come see me either way.

Simon: I’m sure you’ll find some other thing to be the first at.

Your breath got caught in your throat and you started sputtering. That came out of left field! He had gone from professional and mild-mannered to… flirty so quickly! Gulping, you tried to answer him with something coherent and funny.

you: idk what if you murder me?

Simon: I promise I won’t.

you: is that meant to be enough to convince me? 🤨

Simon: I’ll leave all my guns at home.

you: the fact you have more than one is not reassuring the way you think it is.

Simon: If it makes it any better, I wouldn’t need a gun to kill you.

Even though you don’t know this man, you can imagine that he’s laughing to himself behind his phone screen, all smug, thinking he’s funny. And, the worst part, is that he is.

you: reassuring. thanks.

Simon: Glad to be of service.

you: i think what makes it worse is that uve not got a pic of ur face.

Simon: Wouldn’t hook up with a bloke with his face covered?

you: no? are u trying to get me axe murdered? bc thats how u get axe murdered simon

Simon: LOL.

Simon: No.

you: u sure? a masked face with a mysterious job and a suspicious amount of guns… sounds like the upgraded version of ghostface… except online rather than over the phone.

Simon: I’ll take that as a compliment.

Simon: You’re funny.

Simon: I like that.

you: thanks.

Simon: Wondering if you’re that funny in real life or if you’d get all shy on me.

you: probably a mix of both.

Simon: How about we confirm that then?

Simon: Meet up with me for drinks. No pressure on time or place. You can even postpone if it comes down to it. My job is unpredictable enough so I might have to postpone too.

Your eyes widened. The first attempt at flirting from him, of inviting you for a shag, had been clearly sarcastic… But this one is genuine.

you: ill get back to u on that, is that okay?

Simon: No sweat.

Simon: And if you’re just being polite and not actually going to text me again then: This was fun. Enjoyed myself. Take care.

You bit your lip to suppress a smile when you saw his polite goodbye. He was… sweet, weirdly enough.

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

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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aphroditesmoon · 11 months ago

Text

wish you'd ask me

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: you're not good at reading subtle hints, clarisse realises that maybe she should've been more upfront with her feelings for you.

warnings: fluff, oblivious!reader, clarisse is down bad, reader is very neurodivergent coded, kissing, flirting, title n fic inspired by 'Wish You'd Ask Me' by Matt Maltese.

A/N: thank you for 1.9k followers!! I love you all dearly, my ask box and dms r always open, im glad that my writing is being enjoyed by so many people<3

wc: 4.5k

You have been in camp half blood for more than 4 years. You have made yourself at home for the last several years.

It was easy to view yourself as lesser or inadequate in comparison to other mortals during your days in the real world before you were sent to camp. The world has never failed to remind you of how different you were. Always too much or not good enough, always special and never normal

And it wasn't like you were dying for some sort of diagnosis to justify why you are the way you are, but upon discovering that you were actually a demigod, it felt like all the questions you've been harboring to yourself was finally answering themselves.

Everything clicked. Everything made sense, though at the same time, it felt impossible. You were a very confused little girl when you first arrived at camp. A girl who just wanted someone to tell them that it'll all be alright in the end.

And you still remembered the first person to hold you by your shoulders and made you look into their eyes as they told you that it was all going to be okay.

The girl with beautiful long curls and dark piercing eyes. The girl that everyone else, apparently, was afraid of.

But you could never be afraid of Clarisse La Rue.

Not with the way she smiles when every time she sees you, the way she never fails to make you feel included even in activities you're not capable of participating in. Not with the way your whole body electrifies every time your skin touches, when your hands brush against each other.

It didn't matter what anyone think, because no one could change the perception you've built of her. Clarisse La Rue is good. Or at least she is to you.

When you first heard of the rumours surrounding her, you did think better than to force a friendship on her. You strayed away from her and stuck to your cabin siblings and your books, but you noticed daily how she'd still go out of her way to talk to you at least once a day.

It didn't need to be a long conversation, just a passing acknowledgement. An easygoing 'hey, how've you been doing.' Sometimes she'd even go as far as cracking a joke with you.

With how serious her face is whenever she make the jokes, you'd have to think twice as hard and thrice as faster than another person to try and guess if she was being genuine or not so you could fit in a necessary laugh when you needed to.

Even as her anger became more apparent because of the new kid's accidental climb to fame and embarrassing the Ares' cabin, she still found time to make a conversation with you.

It had been long since you tried to ignore or avoid her. You learned that her attention towards you is harmless, and that she seemed much more comfortable telling you certain things compared to others. If she has been viewing you as some sort of safe box, then you don't really mind it. You liked listening to her talk and keeping her heart's intent as your secret.

You too, talking to her. To some people, you are reserved,

and to others, talkative. Either way, people find it easy to discard you at any moment they decide you are irritating.

But Clarisse listens. And she asks questions, she's patient- much patient that anyone could anticipate or guess.

It may be hard for others to believe, but Clarisse is more complex than she seems. She had the capacity to be gentle, and she had the capacity to respect boundaries. The more time you spent with her, the more that side becomes easy for you to access.

Today, however, marks a new record for your friendship with her. A few weeks ago, she had informed you of her newfound interest in the history of folklore monsters. What a coincidence that you were currently self-studying on that specific topic.

She insisted that you hook her in on whatever it is you're learning. She had even gotten you a doughnut to eat together outside the library as you told her of your insights of dragons and their theorized blindness and incapability to differentiate a variety of prey.

The conversation went well, she seemed immensely in awe of your knowledge and had no problem telling you how she felt.

You even gave her some book recommendations, though you knew she wasn't much of a reader.

You felt a shift in your relationship that night and had spent the next three days studying more and more about the topic. And today, you had asked her to spend the evening with you.

You shouldn't feel so nervous asking her to hang out. That is what friends do, after all.

She found you in the library, sitting on the floor in between two large bookshelves. She had been right on time and enthusiastically so. The two of you sat together, hidden by the shelves as some semblance of privacy.

Clarisse looked confused when you had explained that you indeed wanted to spend the rest of the day in the library, but she accompanied you anyways.

You could never get sick of the smell of the books. Old and new, they all have some nostalgic past tied in between the pages, begging to be discovered.

You had your back on the walls with tinted windows above your head as she's seated opposite of you in a criss-crossed position.

Today, the library isn't as packed as usual. There were still people walking in and out and checking out the books on the counter, but not too many that it became obnoxiously loud and annoying.

After finishing another book of Monsters and how to spot them, you're feeling knowledgeable enough to explain the lore of the Giants to Clarisse, she had asked you about this the other day, giants have been long extinct to the point that some might even say they may have never even existed. And so you were interested in sharing with her all of the information you have learned about the majestic species of a beast.

You started with the general information. The basic understanding of what a Giant is the mythhs of Giants and the validity of those sources. Clarisse listened closely in the beginning, never interrupting you unless she had an actual question.

She seemed in awe of the stories you tell her of. You don't blame her, for you yourself have been most interested in the topic of Giants.

You were an hour an a half in when noticed her attention faltering. She leaned against the cases of books, her eyes twitched slightly when you began to explain the different types of giants, and the difference of how they operate.

Her hands are folded together on her lap, and you can feel her listening in on everything you're telling her as she adds in some commentary here and there, but you also felt that she wasn't entirely in on the conversation.

The dim lights of the library made the atmosphere feel warm and secluded, even with its vast space and many other campers hanging around in the other tables and shelves. You made sure to keep your voice low as you spoke in fear of the librarian kicking you out.

You had a good reputation with the library workers, they liked how organized and polite you were.

"A lot of people think their greatest strength is their size, which is valid, they are huge, but their real weapon is their mouth." You told Clarisse, ignoring the litter of books by your left that you had brought over for reference.

"They kiss you to death?" She asks suspiciously. You laughed shortly and shook your head. "No, I mean their breath."

She responds with an 'ohh.'

"They're giants, so their mouth is large too, and you can easily tell what they had for breakfast even from their tall height. Their breaths are also known to be so rancid it could kill you, because they don't exactly eat what we eat."

She raises a brow as she stretches her hands upwards. "Isn't that ogres?"

"It's both." You confirmed.

You were about to continue your explanation but halted by instinct as you notice how her mouth keeps pursing together as if unsatisfied, and she has that look on her face that mimicked a confused expression. You're don't think there's anything to be confused of.

"Are you okay?" You asked her worriedly. Clarisse sits up straighter at the question and waved a hand off to assure you she's fine. "Of course, no yeah- I'm fine."

"You seem bored, you're not really interested in what I'm saying are you?” She opens her mouth to counter your words but hesitates to say anything.

"I- well, I like giants-" She attempts, "-no you don't. "

"No. I don't." She admits with a sigh. "But I thought you said you were interested in these kind of stuff?" You questioned her. "Well, yeah, like the general idea of it. I mean, I don't hate it, and I like hearing you talk about it." She answers with a shrug.

"Then why do you look disappointed? If you didn't want to come, you could've just told me. I wouldn't get mad." You told her honestly. It was conflicting for you to see her so confused on what to say, being so picky with the words she chooses.

You figured she's probably reluctant to hurt your feelings. That is a notion you're used to. You'd rather she tell you the truth to your face than to be catered around like a time ticking bomb that everyone's so afraid might explode at any time.

"When you asked me out yesterday, you told me this would be an 'evening to remember." She tells you with such confidence like it was an explanation to her weird behaviour today.

"You don't think this is an evening to remember?" You sincerely inquire.

"No, I do! I just- well, when you said that I didn't think you'd mean we'd be doing this." Your frown deepens as you try to figure out what she means, eyeing her body language closely. “What do you mean? I told you I wanted to hang out.”

A part of you is offended. She was the one who had said she liked hearing you speak, why would she be disappointed that this was your idea of spending time together?

"I don't know, I thought we'd just be doing...something else?"

It didn't matter what she had really meant with that. You felt completely embarrassed once she finished her sentence. Why was it that everyone else had no problem having long conversations with their friends, but when it came to you, it's all too awkward, unnecessary, and odd?

You liked Clarisse, you considered her your friend. Sometimes you wonder if it could ever be more, but you never entertain those thoughts because you don't want to ruin what the two of you already have.

But moments like these resemble a huge slap in the face by the universe.

You couldn't even be good friends with her, how ridiculous of you to think that there could ever be something more.

"Okay, um, maybe we should just go back to our cabin." You decided whilst standing up and picking up the stack of books you're currently borrowing from the library, ready to leave the place without waiting for her.

"Hey, wait." She called out as you walked past her. You spared her a glance, trying your best not to show how upset you are. “We're friends." She says it so much like a question that you weren't sure if she's even sure of the fact herself until she continued speaking. "I like hanging out with you."

Another thing that you weren't sure if she really meant. "Sure." You replied thinking it's the most suitable response.

Before she could say anything else, you turned around and started picking up your pace until you disappeared out of her sight.

—

You have been consistently ignoring Clarisse. Which proved to be harder than expected.

When you pass by her camp or the training ground, you make a mental note to always look down or to your front as to never accidentally cross eyes with her.

And everytime you hear her call out your name, you keep walking like you didn't even hear her, knowing that she wouldn't be bold enough to call for you again. After all, she still had a reputation to uphold.

If ignoring her wasn't hard enough, having to deal with how you felt for her is worse.

You've been avoiding confrontation with yourself for weeks even before you decided to go no contact with her.

And so far, you thought you've been handling it pretty well. Except for days where you don't see her where she's expected to be. You tell yourself that you don't care as you make your way to training in the day and reading in the evening, and yet you still go back on your own words when you asked a passerby Ares kid on where his cabin leader was.

"She's dunking some kid's head into a toilet bowl." Of course she was.

You thanked the dude and went back on your way to your cabin. It's close to dusk, the sky is turning orange and the sun is dipping itself below the earth. You take your time returning to your cabin as you enjoy the way the sun slowly removes itself from anyone's viewing.

You wondered to yourself if things like these are what makes you weird or off-putting to some people.

Was enjoying nature and having niche interests only cute when it's done by girls pretty enough to be cool or if it's only in romance movies or books.

You don't find yourself weird, in fact you think all of your hobbies are pretty common and usual, and yet the way Clarisse had spoken to you at the library last week had made you feel unnatural.

You had wanted to do normal people things with her, but maybe your perception of normal is different to her.

Either way, you are pretty hurt with how she reacted. You loved her still, of course. It's kind of hard to unlike the girl you've been obsessed with since you were 15.

Once you finally reach your cabin, you quickly put down all of your books and your tiny sling back by the side before making it to the shower to refresh yourself before dinner.

You thought it hilarious of how hard you're trying not to care about Clarisse, and yet as you're cleaning yourself up, changing your clothes and attempting to read at least 15 pages of your World's Most Dangerous Beasts book, you could only think of her.

What would it take for her to think that you're cool, what kind of things did she want to do instead of listening to you yap around for 2 hours on what is an equivalent of a boring dinosaur facts, not that you really think dinosaurs are boring.

During dinner, you kept to siblings and had to make yourself finish your plate as your anxiety wrecking thoughts have a way of deriving you of an appetite. You also had to convince yourself to not search for her at the other tables which took more strength than one would expect.

But you succeeded, and you were now sure that the only obstacle left for the day was to try and fall asleep without the thoughts of her keeping you up.

Clarisse is a force, a fierce daughter of Ares, and a cabin leader who had much better things to do then hole up at quiet small places with you.

And just because she was nice enough to mantain a good relationship with you for 4 years, does not mean that you're worth her time. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

That night, you managed to fall asleep after an hour of recalling Harpy facts in repetition. Counting sheeps had never worked on you, so you had to find something much more active to tire out your brain.

You dreamed of Clarisse with her hair down, holding your hand and pulling you closer so she could slip a flower on your ear.

And just as she's looking down at you, moving closer to do what it seemed like to kiss you, you awoke with a jolt, swearing under your breath as if you'd just gotten jumpscared by a ghost.

Someone's palms moved to shut your lips as you're met with a girl, hovering over you in the dark. Clarisse's dark eyes were recognizable, but it sent a shot of adrenaline through your body still.

"Shh." She whispered to your face, hand still keeping your mouth shut. "I'm going to remove my hands now." She whispered again. You nod in understanding and waited for her to pry her hand away from your face.

"What are you doing here?!" You exclaimed as quiet as possible as she helped you sit up.

"I'm sneaking you out." She answers with a wink. "It's 2 in the morning." You waved your hand around at the darkness and sleeping children. "3 in the morning, and yeah, I know. That's why it's called sneaking around." She corrects you with a grin so devilish that if you hadn't known her for a long time, you'd assume she's about to turn you into a new toilet bowl or dumpster boxing victim.

You sighed loudly and glared at her despite your fast beating heart. Her hand remained on top of yours until the minute becomes more awkward and she removes it as if she just remembered that she's been holding your hand.

Without explanation, she climbed out of your bed and tiptoes to the open cabin door. You're still sitting up and looking at her with conflicted feelings.

Only after she turns back to you, cocking her head towards the entrance, do you give into her request and softly leave the comfort of your bed and trail after her.

"Where are we going?" You asked after her as she kept walking. Instead of responding, she asks you another question back, "Can you swim?"

"We're going swimming?" You watch her shrug in return from behind her and became even more distressed.

"So, is this your idea of having fun and hanging out then?" She laughs drily and slowed down so you could catch up. You walked fast enough until you're beside her and waited for her to talk. "You sound surprised, I would've thought that after 4 years of friendship, you'd know by now that I love doing things that includes active movements."

You did know that, it's a bit hard to not notice how much working out, training and running fuels her even more.

"And why are we doing it in the middle of the night?" The walk towards the lake by the back of the forest was short, considering that your cabin is the closest to the location.

You almost tripped and fell over a stick, but Clarisse was quick to scoop you back up by the back of your shirt. "Thanks." You mumbled to her. "And you haven't answered my question."

Clarisse pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the ground without caring of your presence. You, having more moral obligations than her, twisted your face to your left when she began to pull her trousers off. "Too many people in broad daylight." She tells you.

That is a valid reason, this lake is mostly known as a hook up spot, and true to it's cause, many dating campers have been caught together here during dawn or late evenings.

You braved yourself to turn towards her again slowly and realised that she had already hopped into the water. She had a sports bra on and a boxer.

And though you yourself had a tank top and shorts on, you contemplate the idea of suicide as a better choice than having to strip in front of her.

"Are you gonna get in, or are you just gonna gawk at me from there?" You were grateful for the dark being able to hide your flushed face from her, but deep down, you knew that she probably saw it anyways because of the shining bright moonlight.

"I can't swim." You told her.

"That's fine, the water's not very deep." You ransacked your brain for reasons to decline her offer, but at the same time, a small part of you yearned to take this risk that you've been so afraid of for gods knows whatever reason.

Clarisse is there, in the water and under the moonlight. You are only a few steps away from her. And like she said, the water isn't deep, only waist length. She stares back at you with a raised brow like she's challenging you to join her.

"Turn around first." You tell her. She smirked slightly before slowly spinning to the opposite direction. "You know I've seen you naked before right?"

"What?" You choked out, aghast. "Who do you think changed your clothes for you when you first got to camp." Oh, that.

Your shoulder relaxes as you realize she's talking about the first time you met. "That's was a long time ago." You noted. She hummed im agreement. "Yeah, we've both grown since."

You told her she could turn around once you're inside the water. Forgetting about the heighy difference between you two, the water was high enough to reach your chest, trying your best not to trip underwater the way you always do on dry ground, your hand instinctively reached outnfor her shoulder.

Clarisse held your forearm tightly and drew your closer to her until you're inches away from eachother.

You breathed in sharply and felt the need to fill in the awkward silence. "So, you...like swimming, huh?"

"Yes, evidently so." She answered. "Right right, can't sit still and all that." She actually chuckled at your sarcasm, making you proud of yourself.

"You know, even before I came to camp Half Blood, I use to be a pretty active person, running track, volleyball, sometimes swimming." Your eyes widened in curiosity. "Really?" She nodded.

"The counselor told my mom that I just had so many untapped energy, which I guess is a code for anger issues." Her grip on your forearm moves higher until her palm is over your shoulder. "She told her that it'd be best for me to find a...healthy way, to channel that energy, and for my strong competitiveness. So I joined what I could, and that's how I spent most of my free time there. Besides, I never was that good academically. So, I ought to at least be good at something, right?"

"You are good." You blurted out. Your embarrassment faded away when you saw her smile. "You think so?"

"Yeah." You assured her. Her other hand had snaked around your waist without you noticing. Only when you moved slightly do you notice her holding you softly.

"The moon is really nice tonight, isn't it?" You said, trying to diffuse the tension. You pointed your finger up to the sky at the singular white orb.

She glanced up and let out a 'huh.'

"I like it when it's bright and whole like this, the moon in all of its glory. You don't even notice the starts around it when it's glowing like that." You could stare at the moom forever, even longer than the way you've been staring at the sun.

You believed in it the way children do with their birthday candle. To you, the moon has always been a symbol of hope or comfort for your future. Your fascination for it existed from when you were a child, the way it'd follow you from behind as you gazed upon it from the back of the car seat whilst your parent drove down the road.

The way it moved above you as you walked home from school, like one of the gods themselves watching over you.

"Nothing compares to the moon." You announced aloud, watching as the clouds around it began to gather over it. "Yeah, It's beautiful." You hear Clarisse speak.

As your head snapped back to her, you found that she had already been facing you.

"I like the moon...but not as much as I like you." She whispered loud enough for your ears only. Her face leans closer to yours, your noses brushing together. "Not as much as I like to hear your voice, when you tell me about your little harpy facts-"

"Oh, I haven't told you about the harpies yet." You cut her off. "I just finished that chapter this morning actually and-"

"-and, you can tell me about it after I'm done talking." You blushed and became silent, letting her speak.

Clarisse exhaled breathily, fanning your face with the subtle warm air. "I like doing things that friends do with you, but I don't want to be your friend anymore."

"Oh."

"I want to be more than friends." She elaborated.

"Oh." Oh.

You feel a sudden tightness in your chest, from anxiety or from butterflies is undecided. "You want to be best friends?" You joked, laughing nervously.

Clarisse snorted at your joke, but she was still grinning widely. "Best friends, If that's what you want to call it."

There was a moment of understanding shared between a second of shared gazes before her lips attached themselves to yours. An urgency, approval, meaning that can't be described by words.

Whatever gentleness there was inside of her before had vanished. Clarisse kissed you like a starved woman. Her lips craved yours like it'd be the last time she'll ever know how you taste like.

Your hands clasped on her shoulder and neck for support as she embraced you tighter to her body. You let her tongue slip into your mouth, meeting your own.

And as they danced together, inhaling all there is in your lips, every secret and every confession that have died on the tip ofnyour tongues, you are sure that no heaven nor hell could tear you open to see you back together like this.

You push her back abruptly, letting fresh air fill your empty lungs. "What's wrong?" Clarisse inquired worriedly.

"Last week." You sighed out, chest still heaving as your thoughts clicked together. "You thought I had asked you on a date, that's why you were disappointed."

She winced at the reminder, and for the first time in your life, you had been lucky enough to witness a flustered Clarisse.

"I'm right." Her silence confirmed. "Oh Clarisse, why didn't you just ask me?"

Huffing loudly, she rolls her eyes in irritation. "I thought I was obvious enough. "

Thinking back on it all, it did seem pretty obvious, but gods were you oblivious. The way you intepreted it all so wrongly.

"I've liked you for so long too." You admitted to her. Her scowl was gone at that, replaced by a teasing smile. "And what are you gonna do about it?" Her mouth returned to yours, letting go of all your fears and holding on to Clarisse like she's your anchor, you close the gap between your lips, welcoming the kind of pleasure that you've never tasted before.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #pjo series #pjo x reader #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #dior goodjohn #wlw

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suiana · 3 months ago

Text

The death of an artist

he's always found you beautiful, even in your death and rebirth. you'll always be perfect to him. always

(yandere! musician x gn! reader) (cw: yandere stuff idk, im wiritng this while shitting i hope u enjoy my poopoo core, 2.04k words)

you might not have realised it but your silent admirer had always watched you.

he's watched you from the shadows, observing how you interact with others, how your eyes were once full of light and joy as you shared your paintings for the world to see.

it was beautiful.

you were beautiful.

he was but an aspiring musician back then. a couple of listeners here and there but never enough to fill up a concert hall. meanwhile you were a famous artist, with your paintings selling out for millions at all the art exhibitions you hosted.

you little admirer totally idolized you.

i mean, who wouldn't? all your paintings were so full of life, oh so meaningful, and most importantly, they were made with love.

love, love, love.

it was the one thing that made you stand out from all the hundreds and thousands of artists. the one thing that inspired him to even start writing songs.

your art made him feel loved. it made him feel wanted, even. he remembers how he'd get a fuzzy feeling from all your paintings, how it sent a delightful tingle up his spine as he takes in your carefully crafted masterpieces.

though there weren't any texts, all of your paintings spoke a thousand words. and they spoke to him.

with every new piece you put out, it was like he was getting to know you better. to know you on a personal level. it made his head spin and his heart leap in delight. after all, you were his idol. the one he admired so much that he began to pursue a music career dedicated to you. the career he once left behind in favour of living in this sad world.

though at one point in time, he hit a wall.

he couldn't get any ideas, no fresh inspiration for his music. the musician could only stare at his score as his mind desperately grasps at nothing. he felt like he was dying.

then you came through, like an angel of salvation.

well, looking back, you were more like a demon of salvation. especially because that one single text from you kick-started his disgusting love for you. it feels wrong to call you a demon though, not when you were so holy that he feels like touching you will corrupt your divine light.

he still remembers waking up and seeing your text on his instagram DMs. your bright red notification ping that gave him all the motivation he needed to think of a new idea.

'hey! just wanted to tell u i really enjoy ur music! cant wait to see u get famous >w<'

he swears he could die happy just seeing you message him. you messaged him. you know of his existence??? no fucking way bro. he still wonders if he used up all his luck when you messaged him so innocently that day.

of course... he responded and thus began a friendship (?) between the two of you.

friendship. yeah, maybe for you.

truth be told, he doesn't know if he ever saw you as a friend to begin with. he always thought you messaged him because you were interested in him too. whatever, these small details aren't important.

he released a love song not long after your first interaction with him. it instantly became a viral hit, taking his follower count from the thousands to the millions. he was glad it performed so well on the charts, they were his feelings to you after all.

the now famous musician had to thank you for getting him out of his rut. without you, he'd probably have gone back to doing medicine. so he did the best thing and that was to invite you out for a meal. he had to thank his muse, didn't he?

you were a little hesitant at first. that's okay, if anything he thought it was cute that you were suspicious of him. there will be plenty of time for you to warm up to him later.

the little get-together, or first date as he likes to call it, went well! you two saw each other in real life for the first time! and boy was he smitten. if he was unsure about whether he was in love with you before, he sure as hell was sure now.

you were so much more lovely in real life than you were over text. all smiles and laughs, your admirer feels that his songs didn't do you justice.

"this was fun! let's do this again!"

oh for sure he will do it again. he just wants you all to himself now. to keep you with him, a never-ending source of inspiration for the rest of his life. his beloved muse. the one he writes for. the one his songs are dedicated to. his.

so your falling off played out nicely in his favour. you were trying out an experimental style, said that he inspired you. it was one that not many would be able to understand at first glance, completely different from what your previous one was. your loyal fans stood by your side of course, him included. but the general public eventually started ignoring your newer pieces in favour for something they didn't need to use much thought to understand. for someone fresh, someone new.

he could see the way the light in your eyes slowly started to dim at the lack of interaction. sure, you said that fame wasn't important to you, that all you wanted was to showcase your art to the world.

but your little admirer could tell that it was bothering you more than you'd like to admit.

he saw the way your texts with him grew more erratic, the way the vibrant life in your eyes started to slowly dim, the way you started pushing out more works to compensate for the style change. you were desperate for the attention you once received. the way you changed in real time, becoming a slave to the consumers, like an animated robot that pushed out art just for the sake of it...

it was a little sad to see to be honest. it was like you were there, but you also weren't, you know? your name was on the artwork but he didn't see you in it.

but he was glad things turned out the way it did. it meant that he could be there for you when you cried and felt like a mistake. it meant that he could offer you a shoulder to cry on when the times were really bad.

"there there, it's alright. just let it all out."

his gentle caresses as you cried your heart out into his chest... it was delightful to see you depend on him so much. that you'd come seeking comfort from him in such a dark period of your life. he felt so wanted by you.

meanwhile, his fame was only growing larger by the day. while you were on a path to being forgotten, he was making a name for himself in the music industry. brand deals, billboards, advertisements. he was everywhere, like a ghost haunting you, to remind you that your friend was thriving while you weren't.

the musician wonders whether you've ever hated him. that you'd think he was stealing all of your fame. after all, your fame went down not long after you messaged him. he really wonders whether you've ever blamed him for making a change in your art style.

it doesn't matter now.

the artist in you was gone.

"hey, what if you make me an album cover?"

you only stared at him with dark eyes before looking away. everyone around you had slowly started distancing themselves from you. the change in your personality and looks had scared them. everyone but him had stayed. his words about horrid snakes deceiving you fill your head as you cling to the attention he gave you. who were you to deny your only friend left?

"sure."

you didn't give much thought when designing his new album. it was an avant garde album that had themes about desperation, love, and death.

how ironic, you thought.

you gave the complete piece to him a few days after, heavy bags under your eyes as your friend hugged and kissed your cheek. he's been taking care of you recently. having you move in with him, cooking you food and covering all of your expenses. he treated you like a lover. albeit you found it a bit weird that he told you not to leave without his consent. said that he didn't want people to harass you. you found it sweet of him. you were glad that he cared for you so much.

"my dear artist friend designed my new album cover, yes. i think they were a perfect fit to help design this particular album cover. they're..."

your fame immediately came back. interviews, likes, commissions, the things you were once familiar with came running back at full force after your friend's interview with a big channel.

you think if this happened earlier you'd have caved under the attention. the big spotlight, fans.... the attention will always be intoxicating. even now, you feel yourself smiling at the number of notifications you're receiving from strangers.

but you've realized that their attention is only temporary. the second you grow irrelevant they'll drop you again. just like they did before.

the only one who matters is your friend. the one who whispered sweet nothings and reassured you when you were drowning in a mass of nothingness. the one who gave you the attention you craved.

you immediately started a new piece in a new style.

'Intertwined'

a painting that gave you more fame than what you initially had before. it was a piece about self enlightenment, discovery, and contentment. and some claimed that it was the best painting that you've ever made. a masterpiece.

you showed your friend your work right after you were done and you could've sworn you saw a hint of shock in his eyes. maybe also fear? you don't know.

"this is... beautiful."

his words were slow, gaze intense as he stared at your painting for what felt like hours. you think he was mesmerized. you never asked him.

you made another painting after that.

'final duet'

again, people claimed that it was a masterpiece. your friend looked stunned again and he called it beautiful like always. he told you that he's never seen something so artistically perfect before and that he's proud of you. you like it. his compliments make you happy.

"this one is for you."

you made another piece. a simple painting of him in your style.

'untitled.jpg'

"is... it mine now?"

he proceeded to draw you into the painting as well after your words. you didn't understand what he was doing. but you found it cute. he was drawing you?

"there. now it's perfect."

he smiles down at you before pressing a kiss to your forehead like he always does. you've grown so used to his kisses that you were expecting one already. you lean into his touch before smiling softly.

"i'm so happy with you."

"me too."

the seed of life was sprouting once more, growing around the stem that it's learnt to grow dependent on.

he was everything to you. you feel like you'd die without him. but you know it'll never happen because your dearest friend will always remain by your side. he promised you. his words are like gold. he's the only one who matters.

you never want to be apart ever again.

thus you made your final masterpiece about love and dedication. a flower thriving in a dark environment and growing to love the dark, having died in the shining light once before.

'rebirth'

the blinds to the outside world shut on the two of you. no one else is important. he tells you he loves you. you repeat it. his hands wrap around you as you lean into his cold touch. you're cold too. you used to be warm once, he says he likes you cold better. shutting your eyes, all you focus on is the steady beating of his heart.

now no one will ever bother the two lovers ever again.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere concepts #yandere musician #yandere musician x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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butterflieswhisper · 1 month ago

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hi!! I've honestly never gotten around to listening to season three, and the other two seasons are long due a re-listen so I'm pretty fuzzy on the details, but I would absolutely love to talk about it!!! I was listening to it as it released all the way back in season two, I've got that flashcard shirt (objectively terrible quality, uncomfortable, i love it dearly) have the scripts downloaded, etc, I really loved the podcast when I listened to it !!! ranting abt it would be nice, my askbox is always open :]

does anyone know if there is secretly a thriving Six Minutes (by genz media) community on here that I don't know abt because that podcast meant far too much to me a few years ago and I am curious if literally anyone else knows abt it shsbdkck

#6M #six minutes (podcast)#ur rant post about s3 was really nice btw #even though i don't get most of the complaints since i didn't listen to it yet #whisp whispers #oh if any of my followers don't know what 6m is (which is likely): narrative podcast made by genz media! every episode was six minutes long #hence the name !! it released twice i week i thinj and my school would play it for us if my class finished work early #me and a friend got tired of waiting and found it online and binged the whole podcast #had a whole codename system for the characters so we could talk about it at school without spoiling anyone #it's really near and dear to my heart and i do get excited whenever something ends/starts/etc in six minutes #oh also prev hiii i don't have a pinned post so . uhh #hi o/// i'm whisp! i use any pronouns and am a minor(for now) . i like the portal games and also the moon #i am most known for being the worlds only beastlife fan (awesome minecraft series) i think. idk what else would usually go in a pinned #i would love 2rant about six minutes with u though my askbox is always open and my dms are also if youd prefer that :]

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rootedinrevisions · 1 month ago

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More Than a Game

SUMMARY: When you join Glen Powell for a night under the bright Texas stadium lights, you expect an evening of football and fun—but what you don’t expect is the sting of an offhand comment that shakes your confidence. As Glen’s world of fans and flashing cameras surrounds you, he’s quick to remind you of where you stand: by his side, as the one who holds his heart. With every protective gesture, from offering you his jacket to placing his prized Stetson on your head, Glen shows the world that you’re not just another face in the crowd—you’re someone special.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I couldn't see the way Glen was looking at the Texas football game and NOT write something about it. I combined a little bit of my idea from seeing him at the game last night with a request I received for protective Glen defending you. I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. Hope you all enjoy it!

WARNINGS: Some body shaming/slight bullying. But mostly this is fluff. Implied smut happening later.

WORD COUNT: 3.1K

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The drive to the game felt like it had gone by in a blur, but your heart was still racing. You kept sneaking glances at Glen, who was effortlessly steering his truck down familiar Austin streets, humming along to the country song playing softly through the speakers. The sight of him in his burnt orange jacket, his dark brown Stetson resting on the dash, made you smile. He was so deeply Texan, so deeply himself, and you loved that about him.

But today was different. Today wasn’t just another day at his place or one of your quiet, private dinners. Today, you were stepping into his world, a world filled with football fans, media, and curious eyes.

“You sure about this?” Glen’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see his warm, brown eyes on you. There was a hint of concern in his gaze, even though his usual confident smile was still there. His hand was resting on your thigh, his fingers gently squeezing you.

You nodded, but the butterflies in your stomach refused to settle. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready, you know that, right?” His thumb brushed back and forth against your leg, a soothing motion that made it hard to focus on anything but his touch.

You exhaled, trying to release some of the tension you’d been carrying all morning. “I know, but... I want to. I’m just a little nervous.”

Glen’s hand shifted, his fingers intertwining with yours now as he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about. You’re with me, okay? It’s just a game. And no matter what, I’m right here.”

The simplicity of his words, the steady calm in his voice, grounded you in a way that nothing else could. Glen had a way of making everything feel right, even when the rest of the world felt chaotic. You smiled at him, feeling your nerves slowly easing, though a small part of you still wondered what it would be like to step into the spotlight with him.

“I’m right here,” he repeated, giving your hand another reassuring squeeze before resting it back on your thigh.

The warmth of his palm was a quiet reminder of the man beside you—the man who’d chosen you, wanted you in his life. Even with his hectic schedule, the endless stream of filming projects, press tours, and interviews, Glen always made time for you. No matter how chaotic things got, he’d find a way to carve out moments that were just yours. Whether it was late-night phone calls when he was halfway around the world or surprising you with a weekend getaway after a grueling shoot, he never made you feel like you were competing with his career. He always made you feel like you mattered.

And today, with everything on his plate, he was still here—hand in yours, offering you the steady reassurance that, despite all the noise of his world, you were the part that grounded him.

As you approached the stadium, the sight of fans in burnt orange, waving flags, and cheering already filled the air. Glen’s hand never left you, and as you pulled into the parking lot, he gave your leg one last reassuring squeeze before turning off the engine. He flashed you that signature smile, the one that made your heart skip and leaned in slightly.

“Let’s do this, yeah?”

You nodded, your nerves still there but softened by the fact that Glen was beside you—steady, calm, and exactly the kind of person who could turn an overwhelming moment into something that felt safe.

The hum of the stadium grew louder as you and Glen made your way through the corridors, his hand never leaving yours. Each step you took, the anticipation in the air grew thicker. The faint sound of a band playing echoed through the concrete walls, the roar of the crowd amplifying with every turn.

And then, you stepped out into the open.

The sight was overwhelming at first—the sea of burnt orange stretching as far as the eye could see, flags waving proudly in the stands, the stadium alive with energy. The lights beamed down on the field, casting a golden hue across the manicured grass. The sheer size of it, the passion radiating from the crowd—it was more than you had imagined.

For a moment, you stood still, taking it all in, the magnitude of where you were sinking in. This was Glen's world, and it was as vibrant and electric as he’d always said. You felt his eyes on you before you even turned to him. When you glanced up, you found him smiling at you, a look of quiet pride and happiness on his face. He loved this. It wasn’t just the game, the culture, the tradition—it was sharing it with you. Seeing you take in the thing he loved most with such wonder lit up something in him.

His hand gently squeezed yours, pulling you closer as he murmured, "You alright?"

You nodded, smiling as you glanced back out at the stadium. "Yeah. This is... it's incredible."

He chuckled softly, his voice warm with affection. "I told you." His gaze lingered on you, his eyes soft as he watched you soak in the moment. "I'm glad you're here with me. Means a lot."

You looked up at him, feeling that familiar warmth in your chest. You meant a lot to him. Even in the midst of all this—the noise, the chaos, the spectacle—his focus was still on you. Glen Powell, the Texas boy with a larger-than-life career and a love for this sport, was standing here, looking at you like you were the most important part of this moment.

Your heart swelled, and as you shared a quiet smile with him, you knew—this was more than just a game. It was a part of who Glen was, and you were honored to be a part of it, a part of him.

You could see the players warming up, coaches barking orders, and media personnel buzzing around, all while the game raged on. It was an atmosphere you could only describe as electric.

But then, the attention started to shift. One by one, people began noticing Glen. A few fans from the crowd above called his name, waving enthusiastically as they snapped pictures from their phones. It wasn’t long before a group of people nearby on the sidelines approached him—some familiar faces, others eager fans who clearly recognized him. Glen responded with his signature easy charm, greeting each person with that warm, affable smile you knew so well.

But through it all, he never let go of your hand.

If anything, his grip tightened slightly, reassuring you that even in the middle of the excitement, you were his priority. As he talked to a couple of reporters who recognized him from past interviews, he kept you close, standing just a step behind him, your shoulder brushing his arm.

Every so often, Glen would glance back at you, as if to check in, his eyes softening every time they met yours. His hand would occasionally shift to the small of your back, that familiar warmth spreading through you as he kept you grounded in this whirlwind of activity.

"Hey, I want you to meet someone," Glen said, his voice filled with excitement as he turned to you.

He introduced you to one of the assistant coaches, and a couple of old friends from his time at the University of Texas. Each time, he spoke your name with quiet pride, like he was sharing a part of his world with them. And every time he did, you felt your nerves ease a little more.

As the two of you made your way further down the sidelines more and more people seemed to start to recognize Glen. Glen shook hands and greeted them warmly, but never let go of you. Even as more people started to crowd around, he kept you close by his side, his hand drifting to the small of your back when someone leaned in to say hello.

But as the attention on Glen grew, so did the whispers. At first, it was just a few curious glances, the kind you expected when people recognized a celebrity.

But then, as you stood by Glen’s side, a voice behind you made your stomach drop.

"Wait, is that his girlfriend?" a girl whispered, her tone laced with disbelief.

"Yeah, I think so," someone else replied, not even bothering to lower their voice. "I thought he'd be dating someone… prettier."

Your heart sank, the casual cruelty of their words cutting deeper than you expected. You tried to keep your face neutral, but it was like the air had been sucked out of your lungs. For a moment, the excitement of the game, the energy of the crowd—all of it faded into the background, replaced by the sharp sting of their comment.

Prettier. The word echoed in your head, twisting your stomach into knots. You swallowed hard, trying to push it away, but the insecurity started creeping in, faster than you could stop it. You suddenly felt out of place, self-conscious in a way you hadn’t before. Here, in this world that Glen seemed to fit into so effortlessly, you couldn’t help but feel like you didn’t measure up.

Glen must have sensed the shift in your demeanor, because he turned toward you, his smile faltering as he noticed the look on your face. His hand slipped from your back to your arm, gently tugging you closer.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and full of concern.

You hesitated, your eyes darting to the ground as you forced a smile.

"Yeah, I’m fine," you said, trying to brush it off, but your voice came out smaller than you intended.

But Glen wasn’t buying it. He tilted his head, his brows knitting together as he looked at you with that gentle but piercing gaze, the one that always seemed to know when something was bothering you. "What happened?"

You swallowed, debating whether to say anything. It felt silly, childish even, to let a stranger’s comment get under your skin. But it did, and Glen could see it.

After a beat, you sighed and leaned in, lowering your voice. "Someone made a dumb comment," you murmured, barely loud enough for him to hear.

His brow furrowed further, his hand gently rubbing your arm. "What did they say?" he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern.

You bit your lip, your pulse quickening as you replayed the words in your head. "They said…" you hesitated, the words feeling heavy on your tongue. "They thought you'd be dating someone prettier."

For a second, Glen didn’t say anything. His expression hardened, his jaw clenching ever so slightly as the meaning of your words sank in. You could see the protective instinct kicking in, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the area behind you, searching for the source of the comment. It was subtle, but you could feel the shift in him, the way his body tensed, ready to defend you.

But instead of turning to confront the person, he took a breath and refocused on you. His hand moved from your arm to your face, gently cradling your cheek as he leaned in closer to you.

"Look at me," he said quietly, his voice steady and full of warmth.

You blinked up at him, the noise of the stadium fading into the background as you met his gaze.

"Don’t listen to them," Glen said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "They don’t know you. They don’t know us. And they sure as hell don’t know what they’re talking about."

You felt a lump rise in your throat as his words washed over you. It was hard to shake the doubt, but Glen’s presence, his unwavering confidence in you, made it easier to breathe.

He smiled a soft, affectionate smile that was just for you. "You’re the most beautiful person here, and not just because of how you look," he continued, his voice low but firm. "But because of who you are. And I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side. Ever."

Your heart swelled at his words, the weight of the earlier comment slowly lifting. Glen leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than usual. When he pulled back, his eyes sparkled with that familiar warmth that always made you feel safe.

"And just so you know," Glen added, a teasing grin tugging at his lips, "if anyone says anything else, they’ll have to deal with me."

"You’re too good to me," you whispered.

Glen’s grin softened, his hand sliding back down to your waist as he pulled you close. "Nah," he said, pressing another kiss to your temple, "I’m just lucky to have you."

As the crisp Texas air settled around you, Glen’s attention shifted. He could feel the slight chill in the air, and without missing a beat, he glanced over at you.

“You cold?” he asked, his voice soft yet full of care.

You shook your head at first, but Glen wasn’t having it.

“Here,” he said, shrugging off his leather jacket, the scent of him—spice and something distinctly Glen—filling the space between you. “Put this on.”

You hesitated for a second, but he was already holding it out for you, his hands poised to help you slide your arms through. As you slipped into the warmth of his jacket, Glen’s hands rested lightly on your shoulders, adjusting it to fit just right. He stepped back, eyes scanning you for a moment with a satisfied smile.

Just when you thought the gesture was over, Glen reached up, taking his dark brown Stetson off his head. Your eyes widened in surprise—this was Glen’s favorite hat, the one you knew he was almost possessive over. It was a custom one that was a gift from his parents a few years back. It had a "Hook 'Em" logo on the back. He never let anyone wear it. So when he carefully placed it on top of your head, tipping it just so, you couldn’t help the confused laugh that bubbled out of you.

“You... you don't let anyone wear this,” you said, your voice full of disbelief as you adjusted the brim.

Glen’s smile widened, his hazel eyes gleaming with amusement. “You aren’t just anyone,” he replied, stepping closer until there was barely an inch of space between you. “You’re someone special.”

The warmth in his voice matched the flutter of your heart, sending a rush of heat through your body despite the cool air. Your fingers tightened around the lapels of his jacket, pulling it closer to you, feeling the warmth of him linger in the leather. The smile that crept onto your face was involuntary, the way his words wrapped around you more effectively than any jacket could.

Glen’s hands found your waist again, tugging you closer until you were wrapped up in him. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered just for you, his breath hot against your skin. “You remember what it means to wear a man’s cowboy hat, right?”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his words, the playful challenge clear in his tone.

“Oh, I remember,” you murmured back, glancing up at him with a glint in your eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll fulfill my end of the deal... back at your place.”

Glen chuckled, low and satisfied, pulling you into another hug before stepping back. “That’s what I like to hear,” he said, winking as he tilted the brim of the Stetson down slightly, casting a shadow over your face. It was such a simple, playful moment, but the intimacy behind it left a warmth simmering between the two of you.

With his arm around your waist, you both continued walking down the sidelines, navigating through a sea of fans and sidelong glances. Glen kept you close, his hand secure around your hip as he smiled and waved at familiar faces.

But his grip on you tightened a little when you both overheard a comment from a nearby fan. “What does he see in someone like…her,” the girl muttered to her friend, her voice loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough to think she could get away with it.

The words hit you like a jolt, and you instinctively drew in closer to Glen, trying to brush it off, but the sting lingered.

Glen must have felt your reaction, sensed the shift in your mood, because before you could even fully process the comment, his hand slid protectively to the small of your back, gently pulling you even closer.

“Because she’s gorgeous,” Glen said, not loud enough for the girls to hear, but just for you. His voice was full of certainty, leaving no room for doubt. “Don’t ever forget that.”

His words were a balm, softening the sharp edges of your insecurity. You smiled up at him, thankful for his ability to ground you with just a few words. Glen grinned back, and then, as if to solidify his point, he reached up and adjusted the Stetson on your head again, a playful reminder of who you were with.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, his thumb tracing comforting circles against your side.

You nodded, mustering up a more genuine smile now. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

He looked satisfied with that, giving you a light squeeze before glancing around the stadium again. “You know,” he began, his tone shifting to something a little more casual, “we don’t have to stay down here. The suites are up top, and we could have a little more privacy. What do you say?”

The idea of some quiet away from the lingering eyes sounded appealing, especially if it meant getting to spend more time with Glen without the constant buzz of onlookers. “That sounds perfect,” you said, leaning into him slightly.

Glen’s grin widened as he pulled you in closer and guided you toward the stairs. “Good. Let’s go before you get too comfortable in my hat,” he teased, his tone light, but his hand on you steady and reassuring.

As you made your way up toward the suites, the tension from earlier slowly melted away, replaced by the warmth of Glen’s unwavering presence. You might have been in the middle of a crowd, but with his jacket around your shoulders and his Stetson perched on your head, it was clear to anyone watching—you were his, and he was yours.

#Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Glen Powell

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