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ki-yomii · 1 year ago

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like i do | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 3.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, standing missionary, finger fucking, thigh riding, established relationship, angst w/ a happy ending, possessive!jk, jealous!jk, mentions of infidelity, trust issues

➥ summary | request - Jk being a jealous husband, angst and smuttttt 🥹💘

➥ notes | for lovely anon. hope you enjoy 💚 un-edited, i'll come back and fix any mistakes later. also poor jimin. i love him but i always seem to make him suffer lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Eavesdropping.

Whether it was a stray conversation in a shop, or lurking around corners to see what others really thought of you, everyone’s done it at some point.

Now, it’s a habit Jungkook tries not to encourage - much preferring upfront interactions and direct conversations - but that isn’t to say he’s never eavesdropped before.

But the problem with listening in on conversations you’re not supposed to be is you run the risk of hearing something you wish you didn’t.

And while it wasn’t intentional by any means - he respects you too much to spy, even if the urge is there - he learns this lesson the hard way.

The first time it happens, he’s in the kitchen refilling his cup of iced coffee. There’s a squeal of surprise followed by a lighthearted giggle, the sound of shuffling limbs and a low grunt.

Everything in him freezes at the sound of your delight, gut churning.

He always works so damn hard to pull the laughter from the depths of your throat. And it stings that Jimin - his friend, his brother’s attempts are effortless.

It’s something so simple, and yet the effect it’s having on him is undeniable as Jungkook white-knuckles the handle of his mug and grits his teeth.

His jaw nearly cracks in two when he hears the softly murmured greeting, “It’s good to see you, baby.”

And Jungkook knows, okay.

He knows there’s nothing romantic between the two of you.

If anything, you’re too alike. Twin flames of the platonic variety. Not only would it never work out, but you both feel nothing but familial towards one another.

For fuck’s sake, Jimin was there when Jungkook proposed. Was the one to encourage it, in fact. Has been nothing but supportive about your relationship even when others disagreed.

However, knowing something doesn’t dampen the spark of jealousy.

Nor does it soothe the sharp flash of hurt threatening to steal the breath from his lungs.

Jimin has always been affectionate with you, and he’s always a touch too flirtatious. It’s a part of who he is, and it’s one Jungkook would never ask him to dim. Jimin spent far too long hiding, pretending, stifling himself for other’s comfort.

And Jungkook loves him as he is, encourages him to be his beautiful, authentic self no matter what. Expect maybe when it comes to his wife… for reasons he’s unwilling to examine.

All schoolyard flirtations aside, what bothers Jungkook most are the pet names. He can put aside his petty jealousy because he knows its unfounded.

What’s harder is dismissing the use of that little four-letter word: baby.

It’s supposed to be his way of telling you how much he loves you. Special, intimate. A stand-in for the four-word phrase he whispers into the silk of your skin, tattoos into your heart with his lips.

The realization he’s sharing a part of you he thought all his own sits bitter on the back of his tongue, an acid burn eating through his throat until he can’t find the words.

When you respond in kind with a soft, tender call a piece of him shrivels.

Standing in the kitchen adrift and lovelorn, Jungkook’s left with an empty longing he can’t name and no where to place it.

You weren’t together for more than six months before he proposed, knowing you were the one for him by the second date.

Maybe he moved too fast, was too receptive?

Growing up, he’d always been eager to move onto the next big thing, ready to jump head first. Some said that would come back to bite him in the ass. Was this the day?

Perhaps you regret saying yes so soon. Jungkook knows he’s not like other people. They need time to settle into their feelings like a house settling old wooden bones.

The last thing he wants is to make you feel trapped, suffocated under the weight of all his clingy, needy problems.

So he smothers the discomfort and walks into the living room. He shoots you a smile and inclines his head towards Jimin.

Thoroughly ignores the pulse of pain when he sees how cozy the two of you look cuddled up on the couch, legs tangled together with Bam at your feet.

That should be me.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He can’t lose you.

It’s there he silently vows to be less intense, less attached. Does his best to keep his hands to himself even though he wants to reach across the space between your bodies, and tug you into the cradle of his chest.

Bam picks his head up, cocking his ear to the side when Jungkook winces as Jimin reaches out to tug a lock of your hair, smirking around another purred baby.

Thankfully no one else but the dog notices his moment of weakness or the tension cutting through his shoulders.

Staring at his reflection, Jungkook tucks a lock of hair behind his ear and fiddles with his tie. The three-piece fits like a glove yet he’s never felt more uncomfortable.

He longs for soft cotton and baggy loungewear but tonight is important.

It’s your first year anniversary.

He’s had this night planned out months in advance; pulled all the strings needed to secure a reservation at one of the best five-stars in Gangnam.

You’ve been looking forward to it all week, and your excitement is infectious.

Only Jungkook’s mood sours as soon as he turns the corner to find you on the couch with company, dolled up and radiant. Jimin’s beside you, one leg crossed over the other and swirling a half-empty wine glass.

He says something too low for Jungkook to hear.

“Jimin!” You titter behind your hand, the flash of the jewels on your nails catching the light. “Sto-op! You nasty little freak.”

“What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snap but the inner turmoil spills over before he can shove it down.

Your eyes lose some of their softness, the happiness fizzling from your expression like champagne bubbles. Mouth pinching in at the corners, you narrow your eyes.

A lump grows in his throat.

“What’s got you so pissy, Kook?” you ask.

Jimin clears his throat, averting his gaze to the side as he mindlessly plays with the stem of the glass.

The frosty look Jungkook shoots him withers under your pointed glare. Shoulders sagging, he runs his fingers through his hair, unable to care about how much he’s fucking up the style.

“Sorry Jimin, I… ahem. Anyway, are you gonna be ready to go soon?”

“Mhm, just let me finish up here,” you trail off, motioning to the last few sips of your own wine. “We’ve still got some time before we have to leave anyway.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jimin cuts in while twining an arm over your bare shoulders, cheek pressed sweetly to yours, “You can’t rush perfection, Kookie. Isn’t that right, pretty baby?”

It’s no surprise your anniversary ends in disaster; a fight so vicious it has you fleeing with an overnight bag, refusing to look at Jungkook let alone speak to him no matter how much he begs you to stay.

Leaving him alone in an apartment ringing with your absence, terrified this is the beginning of the end and thoroughly convinced he’s the worst fucking husband ever.

It’s been several days of radio silence.

No amount of texting or calling gets you to answer. And it’s starting to get to him, going out of his mind with worry, with guilt. If only he hadn’t said this, that, and the other.

If only you’d stayed.

Now, everywhere he turns, Jungkook’s forced to face the jealousy growning like a weed in his heart. And every day it gets worse; a stone crushing his lungs, a bottomless pit curdling his stomach.

He doesn’t know where you are exactly, but his suspicions are proven correct when he nearly busts down the door to Jimin’s apartment only to have you invite him inside, stony-faced and silent.

The quiet doesn’t last, broken by the awkward clearing of his throat as he avoids your stare.

“What are we even doing?” he asks.

Your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline.

There are bags under your eyes and heavy lines around your mouth. You look like you haven’t slept well. Jungkook’s gut clenches, bile bubbling up the back of his throat.

It’s all my fault.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Kook.”

“Please.” He refuses to acknowledge the plea for what it is. “I can’t - I can’t do this anymore.” His voice breaks, cracks in two, tears stopping up his tongue. “I need to know.”

Your eyes flash with confusion. “Baby?” You step closer, hand outstretched and shoulders relaxing. “What are you talking about?”

His intentions are pure, honest.

But months of simmering anger, of doubting everything about himself (again), of resenting the fact he resents you, resents Jimin at all, bubbles to the surface.

He’s not proud of it, but Jungkook explodes; a match set to gunpowder.

“I’m talking about you and Jimin!”

“Me,” you ask, blinking owlishly, “-- and Jimin?”

Jungkook smiles, sharp and unpleasant. Bitter and disappointed. Grief makes him mean, nasty. “Yeah, you and Jimin. Do you think I’m stupid - were you just gonna keep fucking around behind my back?”

“Woah, pump the breaks! What the hell are--”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

His eyes glint like shards of black ice, cool and assessing as he stares at you. Numb to the concern in your gaze, the purse of your lips. He’s slipping - he knows he’s slipping. Can feel the grief stricken rage pressing in at the corners of his mind.

The last thing he wants to do is hurt you, and yet he’s helpless to stop the words pouring from his mouth. “Did you like watching me make a fool of myself?”

You sneer, arms crossed over your chest so hard it looks like it hurts, “You’re doing that all on your own, Jungkook. I think you need to leave.”

“No, no, come on. I want to know. Why did you marry me if you don’t even want me, huh?”

Stalking closer, Jungkook corners you against the counter.

The smooth glide of his body is reminiscent of a large jungle cat, purely predatory. The uncomfortable thrill of it reflects through your gaze, the clench of your thighs.

Dark satisfaction curls low in his belly.

He asks, “Did he fuck you better, make you scream his name?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you’re being a fucking pig,” you say, shoving his shoulder towards the door. “Now I really think it’s time for you to leave. Come back when you’re not being stupid.”

Strong fingers clamp down around your wrist, and Jungkook tugs you into his chest. His free arm curls around your waist, pinning you to his front. The heat of your body can’t drive away the sudden cold washing over him.

“Let go-”

“No.” He watches as any retort dies on your tongue, your eyes meeting his head on for the first time. Whatever you see hooks in, refusing to let go. “I’m not letting you go.”

Shivering, you try to tug your arm free, “Jungkook, please. You’re starting to scare me.”

In lieu of a response, Jungkook dips his head, and inhales the scent of your hair. Dragging his nose down the length of your neck as the familiar perfume floods his lungs. Soothes the prowling beast caged in his chest.

A rumble of satisfaction vibrates through him into you, your nipples stiffening against him.

Jungkook sighs, “You always smell so good, baby.”

The tension threaded through your frame releases, your edges softening until you rest against him fully. Shivers race down his spine when your breath tickles his ear.

You call to him softly.

He hums, nuzzling into the side of your head, “Mhm?”

“Can you let me go now? Promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Jungkook pulls back to look at you for several long seconds. Unlatching his fingers, he watches as you flex your wrist. Then reaches up to tenderly curl the digits around your throat, transfixed by the sight.

A hook of arousal sinks into his stomach.

Yanks hard when you gasp at the push of his thick thigh against your pussy, your whine when he flexes the muscle. With a soft cry, you sag into his body while your hands fly up to plant themselves on his biceps.

“K-Kook!”

“Mm, that’s it.”

The bubble of emotions boiling under the surface of his skin is at odds with the satisfaction coiling in his belly, the interested twitch of his cock.

Jungkook rolls his thigh and works you along the length of it. The heat of you burns through the cotton of his lounge pants, so warm and soft and wet.

"Don't--" your protest trails off, smothered by your teeth as your eyes flutter in pleasure. "Hn!"

Shit, he wants to bury himself so deep inside you’ll never forget the stretch. Ruin you so good with his cock you won’t dream of anyone else ever again. He’d make you his and his alone.

Fingers tightening around your neck, Jungkook murmurs, “Let me hear you, baby.”

Unsuccessfully trying to ignore how good the friction is, you shake your head in denial. But there’s no hiding how turned on you’re getting, panties sticky and thighs clamping around his.

You’re absolutely soaked, evidenced by the growing dark patch on his leg as he grinds you into a sloppy mess.

“W-We can’t, Jimin’s h-home.”

Mentioning the other man is a mistake, and you know that.

Jungkook sees the realization light up in your eyes seconds after he tenses, rutting up against you harshly. The bulge of his cock digs into the dip of your hip, throbbing in time with the labored heaves of his chest.

His kneecap catches, the sharp ridge smashing into your swollen clit. Your mouth drops open, and Jungkook slaps a hand over your face before the wail escapes.

He knows he’s being rough, but the tears in your eyes soothe some of the hurt. And honestly, he can’t bring himself to care overmuch, especially when your hips jerk against his.

“Better be quiet. We don’t want Jimin to hear us,” Jungkook snarls, “after all, what would he think if he saw how bad you’re gagging for your husband’s dick?”

Your indignant response is cut off by another muffled whine, his teeth sinking into the corner of your jaw.

A weak spot of yours - Jungkook abuses it to his advantage. Swiping his tongue through the layer of sweat that clings to your skin, the salt bursting across his tongue.

He groans.

“I don’t give a fuck what you or Jimin think.” His breath puffs warm and moist over your ear, voice whiskey rough when Jungkook says, “You married me. You’re mine, baby, and I don’t share.”

Relocating, his hand releases your throat and finds your hips. He slips under the mid-thigh hem of your oversized nightshirt, and snaps the waistband of your panties with a firm tug.

Pulling the fabric free from between your legs, he tucks the ruined fabric into his back pocket as a souvenir.

“K-Kook,” you say, voice warbling.

He hums, eyes glittering dangerously as his fingers brush over the top of your slit. Your clit jumps beneath the pad of his finger, swollen and throbbing.

When you hiss low between your teeth, he smirks, and bullies the little nub with rough circles until your hips shift from side to side.

“Ah, shit, baby. Can you hear how sloppy your pussy is?”

Jungkook dips his fingers between your folds, playing with your gummy walls as he gathers your slick, teasing the rim of your entrance. The filthy squelches echo out into the otherwise silent apartment.

He preens, chest puffing up with pride, and says, “He can’t make you feel the way I do. Can he?”

Without warning, he slides two fingers deep inside to the third knuckle. Chuckles when you burrow your face into his shoulder, your nails dragging raised lines of heat down his arms as your walls give, fluttering around his thick digits as you adjust to the stretch.

“Mm, you always take me so well, baby.”

You clench at the praise, and Jungkook pumps his fingers in reward, curling up to massage at the spongy patch of your g-spot. You whine, head tossed back and thighs shaking around his hand.

Pain shoots through the base of Jungkook’s spine, and biting back a curse, he reaches down to adjust his cock from where its trapped against you, swollen and leaking.

“Yeah, you’re such a good girl.”

“Please,” you whine before mumbling something else.

Jungkook’s not sure what it is, but figures it’s not all that important when your eyes roll back into your head and your hips twitch.

You start to bear down on his fingers, walls tensing and releasing.

“Gonna cum?” Jungkook nips at your bottom lip, panting into your mouth and sharing breath as his eyes bore into yours. “Fuck! Do it. Wanna feel you cum all over my hand.”

God, you look so good like this; eyes teary and brows crinkled, sweat-slick and mouth slack. A sight he never wants to be without. His sweet girl, his baby, his wife.

“Yeah, that’s it.” His fingers curl and pulse, pet and stretch. “Now open those pretty eyes.”

A hand curls around your jaw, tugs at your chin.

“Look at me,” Jungkook breathes.

Please.

He watches, greedy, as your lashes flutter, the lids weighted down by pleasure. Eventually, you manage to crack them open, and he ruts forward in response. His groan vibrates his lips as they smash into yours in a violent kiss.

You pull away with a gasp, slick dripping down your shaky knees. “I can’t - hnggg - fuck, Kook!”

“Tell me who you belong to.”

He’s unforgiving in his demands, a cold fire burning in the depths of his eyes. His cock throbs, his hips trembling with restraint as he stops himself from rutting to completion against you.

His heart hammers against his ribs, and his stomach swoops.

The answer will either make or break him.

Anticipation floods the room with tension; hovering in the air like a word about to be spoken.

“Tell me.”

“I -- you, Kook, I’ve always belonged to you,” you say, clenching down around him. “Please.”

Capturing you with his gaze, Jungkook hooks a thumb into the corner of your mouth. All the hurt, all the doubts, all the rage bleed out of him like water tossed over the embers of a campfire.

Leaving behind the single-minded desire to give you what you want. What you deserve. Because you’re his and the only thing he wants to do is take care of you.

Love you like you deserve to be.

Like only he knows how to.

The taste of your skin is sharp and bright when his tongue flicks against yours, and he hisses into the plush of your mouth, “Cum.”

Keening, your pussy throbs once, twice. Your belly contracts. And then you’re gushing wetly, a warm flood of slick soaking the palm of Jungkook’s hand, dripping down to puddle on the kitchen tile. Your walls ripple, muscles spasming as you shake apart in his arms.

Jungkook holds you through it, soothing the aftershocks as you slump into him - a marionette with its strings cut. You’re cotton soft, cloudy. Head lolling on his shoulder when you look up at his profile with hazy eyes.

“Show off,” you slur when you catch the sight of his satisfied smirk, the puff of his chest as he stares at something behind you. “Can’t believe you made me cum all over Jimin’s kitchen floor.”

The sound of a choked-off, slightly hysterical laugh comes from the entryway, “Oh, I can. Just glad to see you guys finally made up. Now I’m gonna go wash my eyes with bleach.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine

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redvdress · 7 months ago

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CAPTAIN`S ATTENTION

A/N: title is kinda self explanatory buttt captain levi x scout reader, how does he really act towards those annoying brats who sent him lots of love letters that he just throws into trash as soon as he sits at his desk to fill his usual paperwork?

It was a cold, unforgiving morning at the training grounds. The air was thick with tension, as always. The young cadets were busy with their drills, oblivious to the real weight of the world they were being prepared for. Levi stood off to the side, reviewing formation plans, his sharp eyes scanning the paper as if looking for a flaw that dared to exist. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, its faint light barely breaking the horizon, casting long shadows across the grounds.

As Levi worked in silence, the sound of giggling broke through the crisp morning air. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was—he’d been around enough soldiers to recognize the immature flirtations of cadets with more enthusiasm than sense. Sure enough, a small group of cadet girls approached him, giggling behind their hands, their footsteps light and eager.

“Captain Levi,” one of them began, her voice saccharine and sweet as honey. “You look especially strong today.”

Levi barely spared her a glance, his eyes cold as steel. “Tch.” The sound escaped him, low and filled with irritation. “If you’ve got that much energy, save it for training. I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

His tone was flat, final. But the girls, undeterred by his usual icy demeanor, pressed on. They were always like this—young, naive, thinking they could charm their way into his good graces with fluttering eyelashes and coy smiles. One of them leaned in, her smile widening, though her nervousness was palpable.

“Maybe… maybe you could give us some private lessons?” she said, her voice dripping with a poor attempt at seduction.

Levi stopped what he was doing, his hand freezing on the map in front of him. His head turned slightly, just enough to give them a glimpse of the disdain simmering behind his expression. Before he could give his inevitable reply, you walked into the scene, your footsteps halting at the sight of the awkward situation unfolding in front of you. You observed from a distance, your curiosity piqued but also feeling a strange sense of irritation bubbling under your skin, though you couldn’t quite explain why.

Levi’s eyes flicked to you for a split second—just long enough to notice you watching—but he turned his attention back to the cadets almost immediately, his expression hardening further.

“You think batting your eyelashes will get you somewhere?” Levi’s voice was a low growl, his words sharp and cutting. “This isn’t some tavern where you can flirt your way into getting what you want. You’re soldiers. Or at least, you’re supposed to be. Act like it.”

The girls flinched at his words, the confidence they had mustered quickly crumbling under the weight of his icy stare. One of them opened her mouth, maybe to protest or offer some kind of excuse, but Levi wasn’t interested in listening.

“Save it,” he snapped, cutting her off before she could speak. “If you’ve got time to stand around wasting air, you’ve got time to run ten extra laps around the field. Each.”

Their faces flushed with embarrassment as they muttered weak apologies, turning and scurrying off to avoid further humiliation. The sound of their hurried footsteps faded into the distance as they ran toward the track. Levi watched them go, his expression unreadable, though his irritation was clear in the tight set of his jaw.

You couldn’t help but smirk a little at the sight. Levi never minced words, and seeing the cadets scramble away was almost amusing in its predictability. But then, as if sensing your amusement, Levi turned his attention toward you, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Enjoying the show?” His voice was dry, but there was a flicker of something behind his sharp gaze—something less cold, though you wouldn’t dare call it soft.

You raised an eyebrow, folding your arms across your chest. “Just making sure you haven’t gone soft, Captain,” you replied, a hint of amusement in your voice.

Levi grunted, stepping closer to you, his sharp gaze locking with yours. There was a tension there, but it wasn’t the kind born from annoyance. It was something else, something unspoken but undeniable. He stopped just close enough for his presence to feel overwhelming, though his tone remained as gruff as ever.

“Don’t get cocky, brat. The only one around here who gets any of my attention is you.” His words were blunt, no-nonsense, as always, but there was something deeper beneath them—something only you could sense in the way his gaze lingered just a little too long.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, even though he delivered them in his usual gruff, almost dismissive manner. You knew Levi well enough to understand that this was his way of showing he cared. He didn’t waste time with flowery language or empty gestures. His loyalty, his attention, when given, were always earned, never given lightly.

You shrugged, keeping your expression casual, though you couldn’t suppress the faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Whatever you say, Captain.”

He gave you a long, considering look before nodding toward the training field. “Get back to work. I don’t need you slacking off just because those brats don’t know how to act like soldiers.”

You nodded, hiding the grin that threatened to break through. As you walked away, you glanced over your shoulder, catching one last glimpse of Levi standing there, his arms crossed, his posture rigid but somehow… at ease. He had made it clear—without so many words—that his focus wasn’t swayed by anyone else. His attention, sharp and unwavering as ever, was yours alone, even if he would never say it outright.

#aot #captain levi #levi ackerman #aot x reader #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x you

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unabletonotlovesatoru · 13 days ago

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.°⋆🖇₊˚ෆ synopsis: you’ve been visiting doctor nanami regularly under the pretence of needing treatment, but your lingering presence in his office starts to shift into something more. as flirtation deepens into real connection, nanami struggles to keep his distance, even though he can’t deny the pull he feels toward you.

₊˚ෆ teddy’s notes: GUYSSS ITS FINALLY HEREE!!! ive been working on this for a while now, thus is a love letter to nanami from me because ugh he is a dream. its just that ive been practicing in hospitals a lot and there was not enough beautiful male doctors so ive been daydreaming about doctor nanami and started writing it about 2 months ago. it took a long time because i was having a hard time writing, honestly. anyways! enjoyyy <33

₊˚ෆ contains: 4697 words, doctor! nanami, gender neutral reader, minor descriptions of injuries, a lot of nanami’s thoughts and internal conflicts, and maybe slow burn-ish? dunno, its just a silly one shot. artist credited in the banner!!

the hospital was quieter than usual. the hum of fluorescent lights above, the distant chatter of the staff—everything seemed muted as nanami kento walked down the sterile corridor. he had long learned to appreciate the calm of late-night shifts. in his world, filled with chaos and unpredictability, the silence was a reprieve.

when he walked into the examination room, clipboard in hand, he didn’t expect anything unusual. it was supposed to be just another routine visit, another night spent stitching up cuts or treating minor injuries. he hadn’t expected to be confronted with you.

you were sitting on the examination table, your hand bandaged up, looking like you had a thousand other places you’d rather be. nanami’s eyes immediately flicked to the injury. a small, superficial cut. barely worth a second glance. but there was something about you—something that felt out of place in the typical ebb and flow of hospital life.

when your eyes met his, nanami didn’t know why he lingered on your face. there was a softness in your gaze, an energy that seemed to pull him in. it wasn’t just the usual patient—uninjured, pretending to be hurt. no, you were different. he could see it in the way you carried yourself, in the subtle way your lips curved upward when he spoke.

“i understand you’ve injured yourself?” he asked, his voice steady and professional, but there was an edge to it. he was trying to suppress whatever curiosity had sparked in him the moment he laid eyes on you.

you didn’t seem fazed by the sterile setting, or his no-nonsense demeanor. instead, you smiled faintly, a little sheepish as you held out your hand, showing him the tiny cut that barely needed attention.

“it’s nothing, really. just a scrape,” you said, and he raised an eyebrow, assessing the injury once more. it was minor—nothing to worry about—but your insistence made it seem like something else was going on.

“hmm.” he bent closer, his fingers brushing against your hand as he cleaned the wound with a swift and practiced motion. his eyes flickered over the bandage, then met yours again. “it’s not serious. but we’ll clean it up anyway.”

he didn’t expect it to happen, but he felt a small ripple of something within him as he worked. it wasn’t just the touch, though that was part of it. it was something in the way you were watching him, your gaze unwavering, full of quiet intensity. he almost forgot for a moment why he was here. he could hear your breath, slow and steady, almost like the air around you had shifted.

when he finished, he didn’t say much—just the usual instructions, the reminder to keep it clean, change the bandage. but there was something in the air between the two of you that lingered after he stepped back.

you were still looking at him, a faint smile on your lips, like there was something unspoken. something that made his heart skip just a little.

“thanks.” you said, your voice soft. too soft.

nanami couldn’t explain it, but as you spoke those words, he couldn’t help the thought that had started to form in his mind: why did you feel familiar? it was a strange thought, one he quickly dismissed.

before he could say anything, you were gone, slipping out of the room without another word, leaving nanami to stare after you. there was a lingering feeling, something unidentifiable, that stayed with him long after you had left the room.

—

he’d spent the last few years working here, and by now, he was used to the quiet rhythm of night shifts. routine was something he had long ago embraced, finding comfort in the predictable flow of patients and paperwork. but then came you—the one anomaly in his perfectly balanced life.

the first time you returned, nanami had thought little of it. patients came and went, most of them with complaints so trivial that it barely warranted attention. but when you stepped through the door again, with that same half-apologetic smile, that same determined gleam in your eyes, something in him shifted. he wasn’t sure what it was yet, but there was a curiosity brewing inside him that he couldn’t shake.

“back again, i see,” he said, his voice low, controlled. he glanced at the bandage on your hand from the previous week. the sight of it reminded him of how gentle he had been with you—how soft his touch had felt compared to the usual brusque motions he used with patients.

this time, you were a little more direct. “well, you know me,” you said, holding your arm out like it was offering up some tragic tale. “i can’t seem to keep my balance lately. bumped into the corner of a table.” you made a show of wincing as though it was a severe injury, but the way your eyes gleamed suggested otherwise.

nanami raised an eyebrow. another injury? he couldn’t help but feel a small, skeptical tug in his chest. but, as always, he hid it behind the professionalism he was known for. his gaze dropped to your arm, and as his fingers gently pressed against the bruise, he felt the subtle tension that always seemed to be there when you were around. it wasn’t just the touch—though that was certainly part of it. it was the way you looked at him. your eyes always lingered just a little longer than necessary, and nanami couldn’t ignore how it made his heart flutter.

he adjusted his glasses, his fingers still lightly brushing over the bruise. “it’s minor,” he said, his voice a little less dismissive than usual. “you’re fine. just take it easy for a couple of days.”

you were clearly enjoying the attention, despite the trivial nature of the injury. “i suppose i’ll just have to rest,” you said, a playful lilt in your voice. “though, i don’t know how i’m going to manage without your expert care.”

the compliment wasn’t lost on him. it wasn’t that nanami couldn’t handle the flirtation—it was that it made him feel something he wasn’t used to. something soft. he let out a quiet sigh and gave you a side glance. “you’re impossible.”

but the words didn’t have their usual bite. instead, there was a trace of amusement in his tone, an unexpected crack in his professional armor. and you noticed it. of course, you did.

—

the next week, you were back again. this time, with a slightly more elaborate tale about twisting your ankle while jogging. he didn’t even bother asking if it was true—he already knew. it was another excuse. another reason for you to seek him out.

but, as usual, nanami couldn’t bring himself to push you away. he couldn’t explain it. there was something magnetic about you—something that kept drawing him in no matter how many times you made up some new injury. maybe it was the way you looked at him when you walked into the room, like you were waiting for him to see through the act. maybe it was how you teased him so effortlessly, as though you knew exactly what buttons to push to get under his skin.

this time, you’d pulled a muscle in your leg. the bruise on your ankle wasn’t as bad as you claimed, but you made sure to exaggerate the tenderness as you sat down on the exam table.

“do you need help getting up?” nanami asked, though he had already seen you walk in with ease, so he knew it wasn’t as bad as you made it sound.

you tilted your head, your smile a little more mischievous. “only if you’ll carry me.”

nanami blinked, the words catching him off guard. but he couldn’t hide the slight shift in his expression—just a subtle tightening around his jaw, an almost imperceptible flush in his cheeks.

you were relentless, weren’t you?

he cleared his throat. “i’m not in the habit of carrying patients,” he said, though even to his own ears, his voice lacked the usual firmness.

“i bet you’d make an exception for me,” you replied, your smile only deepening as you leaned back, clearly enjoying the effect your words had on him. there was a glint of something playful—and yet, something deeper—in your gaze.

for a moment, nanami didn’t know how to respond. he wasn’t accustomed to this. you weren’t just another flirtatious patient; you were different. you’d burrowed your way into his thoughts, disrupted his routine in a way he couldn’t explain.

with a soft sigh, nanami knelt in front of you, his hands firm but gentle as he took your ankle in his grip. you met his gaze directly, not backing down. and why should you?

he started to work, massaging the muscle in your leg, his movements slow and methodical. but even as his hands worked, a part of him was aware of the connection that had formed between the two of you. it wasn’t just the act of caring for you—it was something deeper. something unspoken, but there, just under the surface.

“i’m not going to keep letting you get away with this,” he muttered under his breath. but you heard it, of course, and it made you smile.

“you’re not supposed to keep me out of here,” you said teasingly, leaning back slightly, still watching him with that knowing look. “i think you secretly enjoy our time together.”

nanami stopped for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, something flickering between you. he let out a quiet breath, resisting the pull you had on him. “you’re a handful,” he said, but there was warmth in his voice now, something he hadn’t intended to let slip.

—

over the weeks, it became harder to ignore the tension that had grown between you two. nanami’s professional mask remained intact most of the time, but he couldn’t help but let it slip more often when you were around. your teasing had evolved into something deeper—flirtation wrapped in softness, words said with intention. you began to linger a little longer after your so-called “injuries” had been treated, finding ways to stay near him, just to be in the same space.

one evening, as he was finishing up his shift, nanami found himself unexpectedly drawn to your presence in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. you were sitting in his office, your legs crossed, looking completely at ease as though you belonged there.

“you’re here again,” he said, though there was no surprise in his voice anymore. he had come to expect it.

you glanced up from your phone, meeting his gaze with that easy smile that never failed to catch him off guard. “can’t stay away from you.”

he couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him, a sound that surprised even him. you really are impossible, he thought. but damn if you don’t make things interesting.

you didn’t say anything else, but your presence was enough. the room felt charged, like something was hanging in the air between you both. nanami shifted slightly, adjusting his glasses. he wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion from his shift or the way you made him feel, but tonight, he felt something he hadn’t before—a pull toward you that he couldn’t deny.

when you stood to leave, you reached out, placing your hand on his arm just for a moment. the touch was light, but it sent a ripple through him. his breath caught in his throat as he glanced at you. your face was serious, no longer playful.

“i’ll be back next week,” you said, your voice steady, almost as if it was a promise.

before he could respond, you were gone.

—

the days between your visits had always felt like routine to nanami—filled with the usual responsibilities, patients, paperwork, and the monotony of hospital life. but ever since you’d entered his world, there was a subtle shift in his thoughts. your presence had become a part of his daily rhythm, even when you weren’t physically there.

he found himself wondering, during his quiet moments between patients, about your smile, the way you always seemed to know how to tease him just right, how you made him feel something he hadn’t experienced in a long time: disarmed. even now, in the midst of yet another late-night shift, he couldn’t stop thinking about the touch of your hand on his arm—the warmth of it lingering long after you’d left.

and that was when he realized something. he didn’t want you to stop coming. there, he’d said it to himself, even if he wasn’t willing to say it out loud just yet.

—

nanami was still processing his thoughts from the last time you’d left, still unsure of how much of it was just you—and how much was his own reaction to you. but when he saw you walk through the door the next week, with a familiar glint in your eye and that same teasing smile, he knew exactly what was happening.

you didn’t waste time this time—there was no exaggerated tale of injury. instead, you came straight to the point, your eyes mischievous as you stood before him. “i didn’t want to be too dramatic today, but…”

nanami glanced up from his paperwork, his brows furrowing slightly. “but?”

you didn’t say anything for a moment. instead, you stepped closer, placing your hand on his desk—just close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from your skin. “i was hoping you might have time for me,” you said softly, voice quiet and seductive, a slight catch to it as if you weren’t entirely sure of his response. it was almost vulnerable in a way that took him by surprise.

for a heartbeat, nanami couldn’t say anything. his heart pounded in his chest as you stood there, so close to him that he could smell the soft fragrance of your perfume, feel the heat coming off your skin. he knew you weren’t here for an injury this time—not really. you had found your way back to him in a way that felt almost too intimate.

he cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses nervously. “i’m not sure what you expect from me, but if you’re here for another injury…”

you shook your head, a teasing smile spreading across your face. “no injuries today, dr. nanami. just… a little company.”

the quiet weight of your words hung between you two. you were persistent, and while nanami had originally assumed it was some harmless flirtation, something had shifted. he couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing you, spending time with you, had become something he secretly looked forward to.

he sighed, leaning back in his chair, and studied you for a long moment. he couldn’t quite put into words the feeling he had when you were around. maybe it was the way you made him feel seen, or the way you slowly peeled away his layers with every encounter. whatever it was, nanami knew he was walking a dangerous line, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“alright,” he said, voice low and resigned, but there was a soft undercurrent to it. “i’ll make time for you, then.”

you smiled, that playful glint in your eyes flickering with satisfaction. “thank you, kento,” you whispered, the softness in your voice almost like a secret only the two of you shared.

—

over the following weeks, the line between patient and something more blurred further. the flirtation, once lighthearted and innocent, had evolved into something more serious, something more significant. you found reasons to spend time with nanami not just for medical attention but for the connection between the two of you that had been quietly simmering under the surface.

sometimes, you’d linger in his office after your injuries had been treated, talking about your day, your life, or just sharing a quiet moment together. the conversations started to stretch longer, more intimate, and nanami noticed that he began to enjoy the sound of your voice. he began to learn little things about you—things that made his heart stir. your laugh, the way you crinkled your nose when something amused you, the soft hum you made when you were thinking.

he learned that you were always too hard on yourself, that you’d been through a lot in your life, but never let it show. he noticed the vulnerability in the way you’d look at him sometimes, as though you were waiting for him to notice. and for once, nanami didn’t feel the need to maintain his distance. he didn’t want to push you away.

but every time you flirted with him, he remained cautiously reserved, not quite allowing himself to fully lean into it. there was always a part of him that held back—the part that reminded him this wasn’t a good idea. he wasn’t supposed to fall for patients. but damn it, you made it impossible not to.

one evening, you came in as usual, this time with a strained smile on your face. “no injuries today,” you said, as though that was a small victory. “i just wanted to talk. if you have the time, of course.”

nanami glanced up from the paperwork he was working on. for the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel frustrated by the interruption. he felt… relieved, even. you weren’t here for an injury. you were just here to be with him.

“of course,” he said quietly, setting his papers aside. his gaze softened as he met your eyes. this is what i’ve been waiting for, he realized—this unspoken connection, these moments where it wasn’t about injuries or excuses. it was about the two of you.

you took a seat in the chair across from him, your gaze unwavering as you leaned forward slightly, the intensity in your eyes making his pulse quicken. “you know, i’ve been thinking about something.”

nanami raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “what about?”

your lips curved into a small, secretive smile, and you didn’t immediately answer. instead, you simply reached out, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead in an unexpectedly intimate gesture.

“you’re always so serious, nanami,” you said softly, the tenderness in your voice disarming him. “i think you should smile more.”

the simplicity of your words struck him in a way he hadn’t expected. he didn’t know why, but hearing you say that made something inside him shift. the tension he’d been carrying for weeks—the anxiety about getting too close to you—began to loosen.

nanami didn’t know how to respond at first. he was always so reserved, so careful about everything, but when he met your eyes again, there was an openness there that hadn’t been there before. he allowed himself a small smile, just for you.

“i’ll try,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

you leaned forward a little, your eyes bright. “good. because i’d like to see it more often.”

and with that, nanami realized the truth. he wanted to see more of you, too. more than just a patient. more than just the soft teasing and gentle flirtation. he wanted something real, something that neither of you had admitted yet, but that was undeniably there.

—

the surgery had been long and exhausting—hours spent under harsh, fluorescent lights, his focus sharp as he assisted the lead surgeon with meticulous care. it was the kind of work nanami was used to—demanding, grueling, but also strangely satisfying in its precision. his hands ached, his body was stiff, and his mind begged for rest as he made his way back to his office in the quiet hours of the night.

he wasn’t expecting much. just the usual—silence, paperwork he didn’t want to deal with, and perhaps, if he were lucky, a cup of tea from the breakroom. what he wasn’t expecting was you.

at first, he didn’t notice you. his office was dimly lit, the desk lamp casting soft shadows across the room. he shrugged off his coat, draping it over the back of his chair, and ran a hand through his hair, loosening his tie. his mind was already moving ahead—thinking of the report he needed to finish and the notes he had to add to the patient’s chart.

then he heard it: the soft, steady sound of breathing. his movements stilled. slowly, he turned toward the examination table, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. and there you were, lying curled up on the table, your chest rising and falling in quiet rhythm, your head resting on your folded arms.

for a moment, nanami simply stood there, frozen in the doorway. his heart gave a strange, unfamiliar lurch in his chest, an ache spreading through him that he couldn’t quite name.

you waited for me.

the thought startled him. he wasn’t sure if it was disbelief or something deeper, something warmer, that coursed through him at the realization. he knew you were bold—your shameless flirting over the past few weeks had proven that—but this? waiting for him after hours, in his office, without even an excuse of an injury to justify your presence? it was reckless, but also… endearing.

his steps were quiet as he approached you, his gaze softening despite himself. you looked so peaceful in sleep, the sharpness of your wit replaced by a vulnerability he wasn’t used to seeing. his fingers twitched at his side, tempted to brush away the strand of hair that had fallen across your face. he resisted, though the thought lingered.

he stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. his rational mind told him to wake you gently, to send you on your way, to maintain the boundaries he’d worked so hard to uphold. but something inside him—the part he’d been suppressing for weeks—kept him rooted in place.

it wasn’t just your presence that struck him. it was what it represented. you stayed. for me.

nanami finally allowed himself to exhale, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. he leaned forward, resting a hand lightly on the edge of the table, and called your name softly.

your eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused at first. when they landed on him, a slow, sleepy smile spread across your lips.

“nanami…” you murmured, your voice thick with drowsiness.

his chest tightened at the sound of his name on your lips. he cleared his throat, forcing himself to adopt his usual professional tone. “what are you doing here? you shouldn’t be—”

“i waited for you,” you interrupted, sitting up slowly. you stretched your arms, blinking as if trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. “i just… wanted to see you.”

your words hit him harder than they should have. he didn’t respond right away, his mind caught between the rational urge to lecture you and the growing warmth spreading through his chest.

“you shouldn’t have waited,” he said finally, his tone softer than he intended. “it’s late, and you should be resting.”

you smiled again, this time wider, the teasing glint he’d grown used to returning to your eyes. “i couldn’t rest. not until i saw you.”

nanami felt his resolve cracking, the careful walls he’d built around himself beginning to crumble under your gaze. he tried to focus on the clinical details—the faint redness in your cheeks from sleeping on your arm, the way your fingers fidgeted slightly against the edge of the table. but all of it only made you more real, more tangible, and it was becoming harder to maintain the distance he’d fought so hard to keep.

“you…” he hesitated, his hand curling into a fist at his side. “you shouldn’t say things like that.”

“why not?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “it’s the truth. i like being around you, nanami. is that so bad?”

his breath hitched. he wanted to say yes—that it was bad, that it was unprofessional, that it was crossing a line he wasn’t supposed to cross. but the words wouldn’t come.

instead, he found himself stepping closer, the space between you shrinking until he could see every detail of your face—the way your eyes searched his, the way your lips parted slightly as if waiting for him to speak.

“it’s not bad,” he said finally, his voice low, almost like he was admitting something to himself. “but… it’s complicated.”

you smiled softly, undeterred. “complicated doesn’t scare me.”

nanami exhaled, his gaze dropping for a moment as though weighing his next words carefully. “it should,” he murmured, the faintest crack of vulnerability slipping into his tone. “i don’t know if i can give you what you’re looking for.”

you didn’t hesitate. “what if i’m not looking for anything specific? what if i just… want you?”

the words struck him like a blow, harder than he anticipated. his breath hitched as he raised his eyes to meet yours, searching for the usual teasing glint in your gaze. but there was none this time—no hint of mischief or lighthearted charm. only sincerity.

he swallowed hard. you made it sound so simple, so easy, as if he weren’t a man weighed down by his own doubts, his own careful walls. he’d spent weeks trying to convince himself that this was a passing infatuation, something fleeting on your part. but now, faced with the raw honesty in your voice, he couldn’t pretend anymore.

“i…” he started, his voice faltering. he looked away, his jaw tightening as he tried to collect himself. “you don’t understand how difficult i can be. i’m set in my ways. i work late hours. i’m not the type of man to make grand gestures or say the right things.”

“i don’t need grand gestures,” you said, your tone quiet but firm. “and i like the way you are—your quiet, your seriousness, your care.” you hesitated for a moment, your expression softening as you added, “nanami, i know what i’m saying. i’m not scared of who you are.”

something inside him gave way, the weight of your words pressing against the walls he’d built around his heart. for the first time in years, he felt seen—not just for what he could do, not just for the roles he fulfilled, but for the man beneath it all.

his hand moved almost unconsciously, reaching out to yours. when his fingers brushed against yours, he felt the faintest tremor in his chest, the warmth of your touch grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

“i don’t deserve this,” he said softly, almost as if to himself.

your fingers curled around his, steady and sure. “you do.”

and that was it. the last thread of resistance snapped. he stepped closer, his free hand rising to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, his heart pounding in his chest.

“i’m not good at this,” he warned, his voice low, rough with emotion.

“then let me show you how,” you whispered, your voice a promise and a plea all at once.

before he could second-guess himself, nanami closed the distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was deliberate and slow, but no less fervent. his fingers threaded through your hair, pulling you closer as if he were afraid you might slip away.

you kissed him back with equal intensity, your hands clutching at his shirt as if to anchor yourself. the quiet of the room was broken only by the sound of your breathing, the world narrowing down to the press of his lips against yours and the warmth of his touch.

when he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath uneven. “this… this scares me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

you smiled, your fingers brushing lightly against his jaw. “then let’s be scared together.”

a quiet laugh escaped him, a rare, unguarded sound that softened the lines of his face. and for the first time in what felt like forever, nanami allowed himself to let go of the doubt, the fear, and the weight of his own expectations.

because in this moment, with you in his arms, it didn’t feel so complicated after all.

thank you for reading this! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

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rinsthighsweat · 1 month ago

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They receive a love letter with your lipstick mark

Sae, Shidou, Aiku and Sendou | masterlist

۶ৎ Sae Itoshi

Sae finds the letter in his locker or training bag and immediately raises an eyebrow at the lipstick mark. His first thought isn’t flattery, it’s annoyance. Public displays of affection, even in written form, are unnecessary distractions to him.

He views romantic gestures like these as shallow, especially when they come from someone he doesn’t know well. “What a waste of paper,” he mutters, folding the letter without reading more than a few lines.

Unless it’s from someone he already respects, Sae would likely toss the letter aside, unaffected by the gesture. If it’s from you, someone he has hidden feelings for, his reaction would soften. He might still roll his eyes, but there’s a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

If touched, he wouldn’t respond overtly. He’d instead drop subtle hints through actions, like being more attentive to you during conversations or sparing time he normally wouldn't for anyone else.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Ryusei Shidou

Shidou bursts into laughter the moment he sees the lipstick mark on the letter. “Damn, they really went all out!” he cackles, holding the paper up for others to see without a hint of embarrassment.

He loves the audacity behind the gesture and finds it amusing. Shidou doesn’t care about tradition or propriety, so this bold approach is right up his alley.

If the sender intrigues him, especially if it’s you, he would be thrilled by the letter. “Took you long enough to notice how great I am” he’d tease, though there’s genuine interest beneath the bravado.

He’d confront you directly, possibly holding up the letter with a wild grin. “So, what’s next? A date or a game of one-on-one to see if you really like me that much?” His chaotic charm makes every interaction unpredictable.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Oliver Aiku

Aiku raises an amused eyebrow at the lipstick mark, his lips curling into a lazy smirk. “Guess someone’s got style” he murmurs, intrigued rather than shocked.

He flips the letter over, examining the mark as if deciphering a secret message. His experience with flirtation makes this feel familiar, but he’s curious enough to want to know the person behind the gesture.

If the letter feels genuine and thoughtful, his playful demeanor gives way to sincerity. If it’s from you, someone he respects, he would carefully consider how to respond.

Aiku wouldn’t reply with another letter; instead, he’d catch you in person, leaning in with a teasing grin. “So, about this letter… Should I be flattered or worried about what’s next?” His charm masks his real interest, but his words carry weight.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Shuto Sendou

Sendou’s face turns bright red the moment he sees the lipstick mark. “Whoa, what the-?!” His brain immediately goes into overdrive, wondering if the letter is even meant for him.

He fumbles with the paper, reading the letter carefully while glancing around nervously to see if anyone noticed. Despite his embarrassment, he’s touched by the effort behind the gesture.

If he knows the sender is someone genuine, especially if it’s you, his nervousness melts into excitement. He appreciates direct expressions of affection and would feel both flattered and motivated by it.

Sendou would try to respond in person but stumble over his words. “Uh, hey, about that letter... It was, uh, cool. I mean, I liked it! A lot!” His sincerity, though awkward, shines through, making the moment genuine and heartfelt.

#headcanon #bluelock #bllk #sae itoshi #shidou ryusei #oliver aiku #shuto sendou #sae x reader #shidou x reader #aiku x reader #sendou x reader

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horror130 · 8 months ago

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Can I get Yandere TBP boys headcanons about the way they try to win over the reader please ?

WIN THEY

Pairing:Romantic

Warning:None really

Finney

🌙 Finn is too shy to talk to you in person for a long time, so he becomes your secret admirer who tries to win you over with love letters and simple gifts, he loves seeing your cute reactions when he finds a love letter and a chocolate in your closet.

Robin

☀️ To win you over he would obviously use all his great charm, he literally tries to act like those heartthrobs in Mexican soap operas, it's the worst, and it really works,he also tries to act as your knight in shining armor protecting you from threats real or not.

Bruce

⚾ He is similar to Robin, he uses charm and popularity to win you over, the only difference between him and Robin is that Bruce is more like a prince charming than a heartthrob.

Vance

♣️ Vance is a different story...he wouldn't try to win you over, he's more like...marking territory, as if...suddenly he got closer to you and the closer he gets to you the more he demonstrates his yandere tendencies.

Billy

🦮 Among them all, Billy is the most normal in terms of winning you over, he invites you on dates, gives you cute gifts, he launches those cute cheesy flirtations, Billy is the one who takes the longest to reveal his obsession with you.

#yandere male #the black phone x reader #robin arellano x reader #vance hopper x reader #tbp robin #yandere the black phone #yandere vance hopper #yandere robin arellano #Yandere finney black #yandere Bruce yamada

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partoffantasy · 8 days ago

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FOURTH WING MASTERLIST

angst = ❤️‍🩹 | fluff = 💕 | smut = 💥 | none = 😇

Liam Mairi

❤️‍🩹 Nightmares | reader wakes in the night to find Liam trapped in the nightmare that is his past, haunted by the execution of his parents.

❤️‍🩹💕 Fool's Heart (2/2) - Part 1 ❤️‍🩹 | reader has always brushed off Liam’s flirting, knowing he never stays with one girl for long—but when she finally admits to herself that she wants more, she finds him with someone else. Heartbroken, she avoids him until he confronts her. - Part 2 ❤️‍🩹💕 | Liam, overwhelmed with guilt for using other girls to distract himself from his feelings for reader, desperately seeks her out after she walks away from him in class to make everything right.

💥 Massage | after days of grueling extra training under Xaden’s command, Liam is sore and aching all over. When he complains about his back pain, reader takes matters into her own hands.

💕 Love Letters | while Liam is away on a mission, he leaves behind a series of handwritten notes for reader. As she finds them hidden in her daily routine, they become her anchor, a reminder that no distance can truly separate them.

💕 Dancing in the Rain | caught in a downpour, reader drags Liam into the rain, fulfilling a childhood dream of dancing with someone she loves.

💥 Playing Dirty | when their latest round of flirtation turns into something more, reader finds herself on the losing end for the first time. Because Liam isn’t just playing anymore. And when he finally makes his move, she realizes—maybe she never stood a chance to begin with.

❤️‍🩹 Between Heartbeats | reader has always had Liam by her side, but it takes almost losing him for her to realize what he truly means to her. As she fights to keep him alive, she’s forced to face her own feelings—before time runs out for both of them.

Garrick Tavis

❤️‍🩹 Broken | Garrick finds himself frantic when reader is taken for the brutal Rider Survival Course (RSC), and after four agonizing days, he finally sees her again—bruised, battered, and barely conscious.

😇💥 Tension and Takedowns (2/2) - Part 1 😇 | when her friends suggest she find someone to release her tension, reader finds herself watching Garrick spar, and her friends waste no time teasing her about it. But when she’s forced to face Garrick in the ring, the heat between them intensifies. - Part 2 💥 | Y/N, unable to sleep, trains in the gym late at night, trying to push thoughts of Garrick from her mind. Frustrated and overheated, she decides to use the men’s showers for their stronger water pressure, thinking no one will be there. However, Garrick walks in, and the tension between them becomes unbearable.

Aaric Graycastle / Cam Tauri

😇 Echoes of the Inevitable | during tense negotiations on the Isles, reader witnesses a side of Aaric she never expected—commanding, brilliant, and dangerously compelling.

❤️‍🩹 When the Dawn Fades | Aaric’s signet has always warned him of the inevitable, but when the time comes, saying goodbye to the love of his life proves to be the hardest part.

#masterlist #fourth wing #liam mairi #xaden riorson #garrick tavis #ridoc gamlyn #violet sorrengail #rhiannon lewis #sawyer henrick #the empyrean #iron flame #onyx storm #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing smut #fourth wing fluff #fourth wing angst

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lizzy06 · 5 months ago

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Matsukawa Issei x Reader Fic Recs!!(Tumblr/AO3/Wattpad)

Haikyuu! Fic Rec Masterlist

Aoba Johsai Fic Rec Masterlist

Of Swings and Snakes | Pt.2 ✨✨by @dira333 (oneshot, angst with happy ending) [COMPLETED]

Wingman on crutches✨ by @cottonlemonade (oneshot, HILARIOUS, fluff) “Why is she talking to him?”.[COMPLETED]

Grids in the sky✨ by @myelocin (oneshot, angst, break up, lil comfort) here’s how you let go of seven years’ worth of love, while here’s how Issei’s the first to let go, then hold on to it. in which you love him a little less as the days go by, just as you love you a little more with every new goodbye that’s realized.[COMPLETED]

spare me the details/ tumblr✨✨ by @etherrreal/Dawn (etherrreal) (oneshot, fluff) matsukawa is a good friend, which is why when you ask for his help figuring out what to wear for your date, he agrees without thinking much of it. but the longer he spends watching you get ready, the more he realizes how much he doesn’t want you to go.[COMPLETED]

「Lamplight | 燈光」✨✨ by yuren Lover's Rock (oneshot, college au at start, angst with open ending, hurt/comfort)Just when you think you got the hang of things, life throws you into the wash and puts you on the heaviest spin cycle, and you think to yourself, what the fuck am I doing?[COMPLETED]

positions✨ by strawberricream (oneshot, fluff) issei never knew how much he loved touching you until he was granted unconditional permission to do so.[COMPLETED]

Crow Series:Matsukawa✨ by thisworthierking (oneshot, fluff) Your day gets worse when a crow steals your transit pass, luckily a cute middle blocker is there to help you out.[COMPLETED]

truth or truth✨ by fireflew1 (oneshot, fluff, humor) a game that you and your roommate play every friday night takes an unexpected, exciting turn.[COMPLETED]

Lavender Rose ✨by tsumuthestallion (oneshot, fluff) You were just a few minutes away from closing when the funeral director from across the street comes into your flower shop asking for a favor.[COMPLETED]

Run✨ by SolluxWantsMe (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff) soulmate AU in which you and your soulmate both have black birthmarks in the first place that you touch each other.[COMPLETED]

Flirtations✨ by @v4mptsuki (oneshot, fluff) matsukawa is crushing on the reader, and he’s oblivious to her feelings for him despite her being oikawa’s childhood best friend.[COMPLETED]

Fake Dating and then Falling in Love by @osamiiya (oneshot, fake dating, fluff)Fake dating each other to go to a wedding, falling in love.[COMPLETED]

Matsukawa x reader by @sunatooru (oneshot, fluff) Just an intese game of monopoly with mastsukawa.[COMPLETED]

Symbol of US by @umikawa (oneshot, fluff) “You trust me, don’t you?”.[COMPLETED]

Letter by @box-of-roses (oneshot, fluff) After spending the entire night trying to make the perfect confession letter you get to the end of the day. In your anxious state you find unlikely help.[COMPLETED]

Mayhem at The Festival by @cottonlemonade (oneshot, fluff) fluffy school festival with crush Mattsun.[COMPLETED]

Sleepy Cuddles With Matsukawa by @toru-oikawas-milkbread (oneshot, fluff) When the landlord can’t fix your freezing cold apartment building after the heat goes out just as it’s starting to get cold outside, you get desperate and call your boyfriend to come and help warm you up.[COMPLETED]

Can Not Sleep✨ by liillyliilly (oneshot, soulmate au, fluff) He realized his fault in tying the two of them together, and for a moment he did look apologetic. So he offered words as a condolence, “You’re pretty.” [COMPLETED]

falling back into you by tatesu (oneshot, fluff) After running back into your ex, you discover you weren't as over him as you thought.[COMPLETED]

lamp light by tatesu (oneshot, fluff) Your first night sneaking out with your best friend takes an unexpected turn.[COMPLETED]

Winning you over by Teapots_and_Teacups (oneshot, fluff, suggestive at the end) Despite Matsukawa’s initial protest at your arrival at the room share house they all lived in, you’d settled enough that no one was exactly pushing you to look at new places to live. The four of them had all admitted that they were single and looking. You just happened to be single and in the middle of it all.[COMPLETED]

Be my Boo by abswrites (oneshot, fluff) When you and Lev sneak into a supposedly haunted funeral home, the last thing you were expecting was to meet a hot (ghost?) guy. But hey, you’re not complaining.[COMPLETED]

the sweater(s) by strawberricream (oneshot, fluff) your relationship with his sweater(s) as background background character(s).[COMPLETED]

everyday is everyday by strawberricream (oneshot, fluff)[COMPLETED]

Lover's Rock by patrocues (oneshot, college au, fluff) Matsukawa is not a smoother talker, which is why he decides to talk about dancing.[COMPLETED]

Say it.✨ by moonmayhem (oneshot, fluff) Requested Prompt: "Don't go on that date." "Why?" "You know why." "Say it."[COMPLETED]

Falling by That_chump (oneshot, angsttt, fluff) When you met Matsukawa for the first time, you were immediately drawn to him. He’s tall, handsome, has a mysterious air to him. The more you got to know him, the more you saw firsthand how caring, loving, and passionate he could be. After getting to know him longer, you also began to see how self-deprecating and hard on himself he could be.[COMPLETED] Million Reasons<KINDA PART @ OF FALLING> by That_chump (oneshot, angst with happy ending smut) After everything, you know you should let him go, but you can’t help but search for reasons to stay.[COMPLETED]

Seijoh's New Manager by demxnscous (oneshot, fluff) When your good acquaintance, Matsukawa, approaches you to ask if you'd be interested in taking the job of Manager for Seijoh's volley ball team, you're conflicted on whether or not you should even consider the offer…[COMPLETED]

We're Going to Tokyo!? by GoDownWithTheShips (oneshot, fluff) It's not as if every high school couple breaks up, some end up spending forever together. However, as the final whistle blows and surprised silence turns into thunderous roars, (F/N) isn't so sure whether Issei and her will make it past graduation. All she can hope is that the final whistle doesn't blow on their relationship.[COMPLETED]

to be youthfully felt by brokejaw (oneshot, friends with benefits, suggestive themes, fluff) issei's decided he's getting too old to have a fuck buddy.[COMPLETED]

love this rain by dilfmattsun (oneshot, fluff) after the rain started to fall, you cursed yourself for forgetting to bring your umbrella to school. throughout the day the rain didn't let up, but your acquaintance made you think that maybe you just shouldn't bring your umbrella anymore.[COMPLETED]

Consternation by asahiswife (oneshot, comfort, fluff) A rough day at work leads Issei down a dark train of thought. You're there to bring him back.[COMPLETED]

Horror Movie Trope by Kuroba_Nyx (oneshot, fluff) "So…I think a source said that this was based on a true story".[COMPLETED]

Pure White Christmas by kisala10 (oneshot, fluff) It was winter again. It was your second Christmas which you spent with Issei as his lover. It has been more than a year since you started going out with him. It was fun and relaxing around him, so you always enjoyed being at his side and being able to laugh with him.[COMPLETED]

Truth or Dare by h3art_ablaz3 (oneshot, making out, fluff) What happens when the Seijoh 4 end up playing truth or dare and you're dared to make out with your best friend that you've secretly liked for years?[COMPLETED]

Thanks For The Gift by luvissei (oneshot, fluff) Y/N wishes to give a gift to Matsukawa, but Y/N unable to since she's always nervous around Matsukawa ![COMPLETED]

now we're holding hands as not quite friends, but not quite lovers by meloomi (oneshot, fluff) maybe the accidental kiss under-the-influence with your childhood friend isn't so bad after all.[COMPLETED]

155 notes · View notes

softonshanks · 6 months ago

Note

Hi!

Your fic about Sanji was amazing, which is why I’m here with another request 😊

How do you think Zoro and Sanji (separately) would change and behave in a relationship? 💖

Hey, thank you so so much! Sorry if this one took time, I thought it through! Hope you like it (: Zoro

Zoro is notoriously independent, and getting into a relationship doesn’t change that overnight. At first, he struggles with understanding the subtle nuances of being with someone—he’s used to relying on himself and chasing his goal of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman. But, slowly, he starts to realize that having someone who truly cares for him doesn’t weaken him; it actually strengthens his resolve.

He won’t be the type to express his feelings through long, romantic speeches. Instead, Zoro shows his love through quiet acts of devotion. He sharpens his partner’s blades if they’re a swordsman too, or he makes sure they always have food when they’re training or recovering from a fight. He won’t say much, but the way he instinctively moves to protect them in battle speaks louder than words ever could. He’ll also try harder to stay awake when they’re together—something that’s not easy for him, considering his nap habits.

Zoro doesn’t change in the flashy sense, but he becomes more aware of his surroundings. He’s always been protective of his crew, but now he’s fiercely protective of his partner, though he trusts them to fight their own battles. He still gets lost constantly, but now he finds himself checking over his shoulder to make sure they’re nearby. If they’re separated, he feels an unfamiliar twinge of discomfort until they’re reunited. His pride may prevent him from admitting it outright, but he values their presence more than he lets on.

In private moments, Zoro’s surprisingly tender. He’ll lie back with them in the crow’s nest or under the stars, his hands resting behind his head, and let them curl up against him. It’s quiet, but the silence between them feels natural, not forced. He’s not one for excessive physical affection, but sometimes he’ll run his fingers through their hair when he thinks they’re asleep. When they’re truly alone, he might even rest his head on their shoulder or let them lean on his chest, murmuring something gruff like, "Don’t get used to this," though they both know he doesn’t mean it.

Though Zoro’s heart remains focused on his dream, he learns that loving someone doesn’t distract him from his goals—it gives him one more reason to achieve them. He fights harder because now there’s someone he wants to protect, someone who makes the idea of surviving the next battle even more important.

Sanji

When Sanji enters a relationship, it deepens his already ingrained sense of devotion and care, but it also introduces new facets to his character.

In the early stages, Sanji will go above and beyond to make his partner feel special. He’ll pull out all the stops with grand gestures: candlelit dinners on the ship's deck, flowers arranged in intricate patterns, and love letters that might rival any romantic poet's. His cooking will reach new heights as he constantly experiments to create dishes that his partner will adore. Every meal becomes an expression of his affection.

Despite his over-the-top romanticism, Sanji’s behavior becomes even more attentive and protective. He’s always been chivalrous, but now he’s even more vigilant. He keeps an eye out for their safety in combat, sometimes even prioritizing their well-being over his own. His protective nature becomes apparent not just in battle but in everyday moments—whether it’s ensuring they’re comfortable in a rough sea or defending them from any form of insult or danger.

Sanji’s relentless charm and flirtation with others will soften considerably. While he still appreciates the beauty of women, his attention and flattery will be reserved for his partner. He may still cook for the crew and be a gentleman, but his flirtatious remarks will have an affectionate, teasing edge when directed at his loved one.

He’ll also struggle with balancing his desire to protect with respecting his partner’s independence. At times, his overprotectiveness might come off as smothering, but he’ll be learning to navigate this, respecting their space while still being ready to support them in any way he can.

Sanji’s cooking becomes an act of love, and he often creates special dishes that hold personal significance, from a meal that reminds him of their first date to a recipe that reflects something they shared together. When he’s feeling unsure or overwhelmed, he’ll retreat into the kitchen, using cooking as a way to process his feelings and reaffirm his commitment to them.

In quiet moments, away from the bustling ship and the crew’s antics, Sanji reveals a more vulnerable side. He’ll let his guard down, showing them the man behind the perfect image—the one who dreams of a peaceful life with them, where they can enjoy simple pleasures together. He might not always be articulate about his feelings, but his actions will speak volumes: the way he holds their hand, the way he listens intently to their stories, and the way he lights up when they’re around.

Ultimately, Sanji’s relationship brings out his deepest qualities—his loyalty, his nurturing nature, and his romantic heart. He’s driven by the desire to make them happy, and this only intensifies his passion for his dreams and his role within the crew. Loving someone makes him more grounded, but it also makes him more determined to build a future where he can share his life and love with them, all while continuing to support and cherish his friends and his culinary aspirations.

197 notes · View notes

sissylittlefeather · 8 days ago

Note

So... I had this dream about Elvis.

It's a little blurry and my English isn't perfect, nos, but I can remember the important bits.

I (the reader, of you wanna write about it ;]) was working as Elvis's assistant and practically loved with him. There where some feelings between us and, eventually, we ended up in bed together. The things were getting heated up, he was rubbing himself through his pants and i was grinding against his thigh.. and just when things where going to get good...

I woke up.

Oh, sweet, sweet nonnie. Your fantastic dream sparked a whole thing for me. Please enjoy this fanfic that resulted from this ask:

Return to Sender

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, dry humping, thigh riding, p in v sex, unprotected sex, ejaculation

Word count: ~3.3k

Also decided to base it loosely on this gif:

You were so nervous in your interview that you actually knocked a cup of something off of his desk. As a result, you were pretty sure you did not get the job. But what you didn't know is that he found your stuttering and fidgeting endearing and when you bent over to clean up the cup you spilled, the view he got of your ass made his decision for him.

That's how you ended up as Elvis Presley's private secretary. It's 1959 and he gets so much fan mail these days that he can't manage it all himself. So, he hires you to help him out. He's pleased when you prove to be useful and supremely impressed when you show him that you can mimic his signature perfectly. Still, his interest in you is far from purely functional.

He's not sure how to go about making his first move, especially since you work for him and he'd hate to lose you. You're really quite effective, so he'll have to play this just right. He doesn't want to offend you and run you off for good.

Instead, he spends a lot of time watching you and smiling at you when you catch him looking. You can't figure out why he keeps looking at you. You're not dumb, not even naive really, but it still seems outside the realm of reality that he might be into you for more than your typing skills.

He tests the waters a little with some flirtation here and there, and you don't seem to turn him down, but you also don't seem to reciprocate. He confuses your nervousness with disinterest and tries to stay focused on the task at hand any time you're together. But as time passes, you get more and more comfortable with each other and eventually a kind of friendship forms between you. It's easy to bond as you laugh about some of the crazy things the girls write to him, but you really start to get close when he begins to talk to you. And not just about the letters. Without meaning to, he tells you about his loneliness, his fears, and how much he misses his mama. You're a good listener and he needs you more than he realizes.

Eventually, you get to the end of his time in the service and know he'll be headed back to the states soon. You're not exactly excited about seeing him go, but there's not much you can do to change it, so you take it in stride.

He's not so resigned, though.

If there's even the slightest chance that you might want him, he's not going to let the opportunity pass him by. The night before all of his big army-ending interviews, he asks you to come over. You assume he needs you to get through some letters or something before he leaves, but he has something else entirely different in mind.

“Hey, honey, thank you for coming over so late.” His voice is quiet, shy almost. The room is dimly lit and there's the faint smell of cigar smoke in the air. He sits in a large armchair, watching you as you stand in the middle of the room. You nod and tell him that you don't mind.

“You have some new letters that you need help with?” He shakes his head sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.

“Not really. I just wanted to see ya before I leave.” You blink a few times, confused.

“I'll be there for the interviews tomorrow.” He nods. This is not a surprise, but he wants to talk to you without people around.

“Yeah, but…” He fumbles over the words, trying to say exactly what he feels. The hesitation is heavy in the air between you and it's almost as though the words get caught in his throat when he tries to speak.

“But what, Elvis?” You look down at him and he sighs deeply, drumming his fingers on his knee anxiously. Without warning, he stands up and walks to you, grazing his fingertips over your cheek gently. There's a moment of nothing but being between you and you see the conviction enter his eyes.

“Oh, fuck it.” And then his lips are on yours, soft and needy. At first, you're so shocked that you stand there with your eyes open and his mouth on yours. You can see his eyelashes where they settle on his cheeks and feel him breathing as his chest rises and falls so close to you. He pulls back and notices the look on your face. “No? Was that…?”

“Do it again.” A smile creeps across his face and he leans down and kisses you again. This time your eyes close and you melt into him. The taste of him on your lips is exquisite, something between mint and man, and it feels like you'll never get enough. He deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth, his hands drifting to your hips as he pulls you in close to him, your bodies flush against each other. You moan softly as his lips move down your jaw to your neck and his hands slips down to grab your ass through your dress.

“I've wanted this forever.” His voice rumbles against your throat. You feel his hardness where he presses it against you, the urgency in his hips becoming more obvious.

“Took you long enough.” A little giggle escapes your lips as his hands continue to roam your body, squeezing you where it pleases him. He takes your breasts in both hands and lets out a small whimper. The need for more of him burns inside of you, manifesting in the ache in your center. His cock is so hard it hurts as he rolls against you, tangling one hand in your hair to hold you still as he dips his tongue into your mouth again. You start to pull at his shirt as he walks you backwards through the house toward his bedroom, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you as close to him as possible.

You fumble with buttons, fingers trembling in anticipation. All of a sudden, it seems like his shirt has a hundred buttons and you groan in frustration. He pulls back, chuckling and pulls it over his head, dropping it to the floor. In the hallway, he turns your back to him and puts your hands on the wall, dragging his down your back to your hips. The ache between your thighs is quickly becoming unbearable, your body burning up with the intensity of your need. His hands grip your hips as he ruts against you, his erection straining against the fabric of his pants. Then, you feel his lips on the back of your neck as he unzips your dress, pushing it forward off of you to let it pool at your feet. He turns you to face him, eagerly raking his eyes over you hungrily as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He takes a moment to really appreciate your body in just your underwear and bra.

“What?” You ask playfully, noticing the spellbound look on his face. He shakes his head a little, basking in the scent of your perfume as it mixes with the heat of your body.

“You're even more beautiful than I could've imagined.” He runs his fingertips down the side of your stomach and grips your hip tightly. The last ounce of inhibition leaves you and you grab the back of his neck, pulling his lips back down to yours. Every ounce of him hums with insatiable desire as his soft mouth moves on yours passionately. He pushes your back to the wall and presses his body tightly against yours, his thigh on your center. Without thinking, you start to rub yourself on his thigh, your body begging for friction against your swollen clit. He groans and starts to roll his hips against you. “Goddamn, baby. Don't stop that.”

Your hands slide around to his back as you pick up speed, grinding your clothed pussy on his leg.

“Oh god, Elvis.” A deep moan floats up and out of you as your aching bud reacts to the delicious sensation of his pants.

“Fuck, baby. That's a good girl. Make yourself cum on me.” He grips your hips and helps you rut against him, chasing your orgasm. The wetness seeps through your panties, soaking the fabric under you, but he doesn't care. He wants you to cum, needs you to cum, his hips stuttering against you as you rub on him.

“I'm s-so close.” It's more of a whimper than a sentence, but he gets your meaning. His grasp on your hips is almost bruising as you grind on him faster and harder. The familiar bubbling heat gathers in your lower belly as the sweat drips between your breasts. He captures your lips in a desperate kiss and then mumbles against you.

“Come on, baby. You're right there. Let go.” And then, like your body knew to listen to him, you cum on command, shuddering and trembling as the orgasm rushes through you, sending bolts of pleasure to your extremities. He starts to slow the rolling of your hips as you go floppy against him. “Good girl. So pretty when you cum.”

“Think I might've ruined your pants.” You whisper and he chuckles.

“They'll wash. Can you walk?” You look at him, your eyes hazy with your post-orgasm daze.

“Huh?”

“I'm nowhere near finished with you.” He smirks.

“I'm not sure-” You don't even get the sentence out before he bends down, throwing you over his shoulder. A squeal escapes your lips as he carries you to the bedroom and drops you unceremoniously on the bed. He turns on a small light on the nightstand, casting a kind of orange glow around the room. You look at him standing there, the small patch of hair on his chest, his angelic face, and the small wet spot where his dick has leaked precum onto his pants and continues to stand at full attention. He looks at you spread out on the bed and decides at that moment that he'd give you anything you wanted, even his last name if you asked for it.

“I need you, baby.” He palms himself over his pants and you nod, reaching back to unhook your bra. You slip it down your arms and drop it on the floor, moving to push your panties down your legs. He grunts when your pussy becomes visible, moving his hand on his cock a little faster. When you spread your legs, he bites his bottom lip and moans.

“What are you waiting for?” You coo. His eyes are glued to your glistening pussy as he quickly unbuttons his pants and lets them drop. Your mouth waters a little as his cock bounces free, big and uncut and weeping precum. He climbs on top of you, arranging himself against your entrance and taking one of your legs onto his shoulder.

“You ready for me, honey?” He asks desperately, rubbing his tip through your wet folds. You nod and he groans, slowly pushing into you. The feeling of his dick stretching you out is overwhelmingly good. Finally, he groans, his whole cock buried deep inside you, balls pressed against your ass, as he resists the urge to pound you silly. Your hands clench around the silky sheets and you breathe, trying to adjust to the feeling of him. He looks at you with his eyebrows knit together in concern. “You okay?”

“God, yes.” He smiles down at you and pulls his hips back, sliding his now-wet cock out of you and then rolling them forward again, plunging himself into you. Your eyes roll back and you moan loudly as he starts to pick up a steady rhythm of slamming against you. He kisses your ankle gently and fucks into you over and over again. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as the scent of your sex hangs in the air. Your breasts bounce with every thrust and he grunts, his release gathering in his balls. The headboard starts to bang against the wall and the little light on the nightstand rocks with the force of your lovemaking.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good. Such a tight little pussy.” His hair is sweaty on his forehead and you revel in the smell of him as he wraps your leg around his hip and leans down to kiss you, his cock sliding in and out of you. In doing so, he shifts the angle a little and begins to rub against your g-spot. Now, you whimper and moan with every movement of his hips, clawing at his back as he pounds you. You devolve into just a body, soaking in each sensation: skin pressed together, sticky and wet, his tongue in your mouth, insistent and deep, and his cock filling your pussy up again and again. He does the same, sinking into the waves of pleasure, your tight heat wrapped around his dick, squeezing him just right. Everything is sensual as you mix together and quickly lose track of whose sweat is whose.

“Elvisssss…” You whine, another climax crashing into you and burning you up from the inside out. He moans with the feeling of your pussy tightening around him.

“Fuck, baby, I'm gonna cum. Fuck. Gonna… oh fuck!” He pulls out of you at the very last possible second, shooting cum all over the inside of your thighs. His cock throbs and pulses and he collapses on top of you, sticky ropes pumping out of him onto your legs. When he finally finishes, he groans loudly and picks up his head, kissing your lips softly. You giggle and push his hair back off his forehead. He chuckles. “I made a mess.”

“Yes, you did. But I helped.” He laughs and kisses you again.

“Yeah, I'm gonna blame this one on you.” You giggle as he rolls off of you and fetches a washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up. When he's done, he crawls back into bed and pulls you onto his chest. “Stay with me?”

You look up into his eyes and it's obvious he doesn't want to be alone tonight. Honestly, you wouldn't leave him even if you could.

“Of course.” He smiles and nuzzles into your hair. You settle in to sleep with him wrapped around you.

***

When you wake up the next morning, he's already dressed in his full uniform. He moves around the room quietly, but he notices when you stir and smiles softly.

“Hey, baby.” You lift your head up and yawn, stretching.

“You're leaving?” He nods and then sits down on the bed to put his shoes on.

“Yeah, I have those interviews. You comin’?” Again, it's clear that he wants you there, so you nod back.

“Oh yeah. I just have to run home and get dressed, but I'll be there.”

“Good.” He leans in and kisses your forehead before standing up. You're still naked from your activities last night and he looks down at you hungrily. He pulls the covers down a little so that he can see your body. “Goddamnit. I hate to leave ya.”

You're not sure if he's talking about this morning or forever. You reach out and take his hand, kissing it gently and then placing it on your breast.

“Fuck.” He climbs into bed in his uniform and pulls you onto him, kissing you deeply and running his hands all over your body.

“Thought you had to go?” You ask between kisses. He groans and buries his face in your neck. The sweet scent of your sweat and sex lingers on your skin and he breathes it in, trying to commit everything about you to memory. He mumbles into your hair.

“Yeah, I do. Just wish I could keep you naked in my bed forever.” For a few more seconds, you just hold each other, trying not to think about the future. Then, he pulls away from you and gets out of bed. “I'll see you at the interviews.”

He turns and leaves before he can get back into the bed and stays there until he dies. You sigh and get up, gathering your things and getting dressed. Something is missing, though. You cannot find your panties anywhere. Sighing again, you check your watch. You don't have time to keep looking. At least he'll have something to remember you by.

******

At the interviews, you stand behind him sipping your coffee and watching. The press are snapping photos like crazy and the flash bulbs are almost giving you a headache. You wonder how he stands it. The room is filled with noise and people, but you can't take your eyes off of him. He looks better than he ever has before, but maybe that's because you've seen him naked and know how beautiful he is without clothes. Your eyes drift down a little and you think about what's hiding under his pants, rubbing your thighs together. And that's when you see them: your panties, just barely peeking out of his pocket.

Your mouth pops open, but you shut it quickly. That little shit. He stole your panties! And he has them with him!

You grab a pen and a scrap of paper and scribble out a note. Motivated by his boldness, you walk up behind him and then lean forward, slipping the note into his jacket. He looks up and realizes it's you, his heart stopping in his chest. Still, he plays it off for the press and keeps going.

However, the second he's able, he pulls out the note and reads it eagerly.

You thief. I see what you stole and I want them back! Call me before you leave.

He grins widely, kisses the note, and folds it up, adding it to the pocket where your panties are. His intention was only to keep them, but now his blood is pumping with the possibility of seeing you again. A thought hits him and he sits with it for a bit. By the time he gets home, he's determined to make it a reality. He picks up the phone and dials your number.

“Hello?”

“I'm not givin’ em back.” Your face breaks into a smile.

“You better!” He chuckles.

“Alright, you can have ‘em. BUT-” He pauses for effect and you just about die with anticipation. You hear him take a deep, steadying breath before he continues. “You have to come get them in Memphis.”

Your mouth drops in shock. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn't that.

“In Memphis?”

“Yes. Come home with me.” His heart is in his throat as he waits for your response. He twists the phone cord around his finger and bites his lip. If only he could see your face. The suspense is killing him.

“Okay.” What else could you say?

“Okay?” He asks excitedly, standing up with the phone.

“Yes.” Your heart is racing, but there's nothing that important keeping you here. Not if he's asking you.

He does a silent fist pump and thanks God that you said yes.

“I'll come get you on my way to the airport. Pack to stay for a while. Like, forever.”

“Elvis…”

“Listen, baby. It took me a long time to find you. I'm not lettin’ you get away anytime soon. You gonna argue?” You think for a second about what you're agreeing to and then decide to take a leap of faith.

“Not at all.”

“Good. And baby?”

“Yeah?” He hesitates for a second, his nerves getting the better of him. Then, he just says it, unable to keep the words from tumbling out.

“I love you.” Your heart stops.

“I love you too, Elvis.”

******

The End

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#elvis presley #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis smut #elvis fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley fanfic #elvis x reader #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year ago

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Your Touch Builds a Bonfire - A John Shelby/Reader One Shot Story.

Just a bit of John smut for my lovelies on this cold Saturday night! Enjoy, darlings :)

Words - 1,810

Warnings - Spicy smut below the cut, minors DNI!

The way he twirls a pencil between his fingers, watching how the phalanges bend so effortlessly has you in a trance. How he makes a teacup look so small in his grasp. How the veins in the back of his hands bulge when he flexes a hand in his hair, usually when something has frustrated him to the point of anger.

When he notices you watching, though, that fiery temper of his never fails to cool.

He knows how much you desire him. He sees it, he’s been waiting for you to make a move, seeing how far he can go in pushing you with little instances of tease. He always finds some way to lightly touch you, whether emphasising a point, sweeping a stray few strands of hair behind your ear, or brushing fallen eyelashes from your cheek, he finds a way.

You want his hands on you in much finer detail, though. It’s only because he’s your boss and you’re scared to lose your job that you haven’t acted upon it, just in case you’re wrong. It makes you tingle to the tips of your ears, imagining giving him the come on only for him to stare at you incredulously and state that you are mistaken over his intentions.

Leaving your daydream behind, you turn your attention back to the typewriter ahead of you, the chaos of the bookmaker's offices soon beginning to swirl as the races kick off at various locations around the country. By the end of the day, the final race leaving the men cleared from the space to go and either celebrate or commiserate their wins or losses at the local boozer, you are still at your typewriter, John across the space at his desk, scribbling in the ledger.

You see him exit his seat without a word, leaving the room, your fingers tapping the final letters upon the page you need his signature upon, pulling it from the typewriter and gently shaking it to dry the ink. Placing it down, you see an arm reach over your shoulder, a whiskey placed upon your desk.

“Worked hard today, you did,” he speaks, nodding to the glass as you turn to look up at him. “I ain’t in the mood for the pub, but I am in the mood for a few drinks with my favourite.”

He winks, and heat prickles your cheeks, busying yourself with picking up the drink and taking a big sip, attempting to bolster your confidence a little. It’s what you want, but oh! How the man makes you nervous!

He’s too gorgeous for his own bloody good.

“Well, since your other favourite was disappointing today, I can scarcely blame you.”

He grins, chuckling into his glass. “Yeah, you’re much less trouble than a thoroughbred with the desire to throw his fucking jockey.” He shakes his head, sinking the rest of his drink. “Bloody animal.” He reaches for the bottle he brought with him, refilling his glass, topping yours off too. “You’re still trouble, though.”

Your face mirrors the confusion his statement makes you feel. “I am?”

“Oh ar, love. Definitely.”

Your heart hammers with nervous excitement, taking a long sip of the whiskey before replying. “Why is that?”

“Because short of diving on you, I dunno what the fuck else I’m meant to do to show you how much I want to take you to bed. If we even got that far. Believe me, I want you so badly, I’d settle for tearing off all your clothes and bouncing you on my cock while sitting in a chair down here.”

Oh god. There they are, his intentions, delivered with every ounce of cocky confidence you should have known would leak out eventually after his tentative flirtations thus far. John Shelby can only be gentlemanly for so long, though.

It’s time to cease the wallflower routine.

Standing up, you don’t take your eyes off him for a long, long moment, the weight of your mutual stare enough to crack the floor below as you gesture to the seat you rose from. “I think we were the wrong way round for that to happen.”

His mouth curls into a smirk, finishing his drink and placing the glass down, seating himself. You move to him, excitement whizzing through your tummy, gathering the soft material of your summer dress and beginning to hitch it up, John’s hands reaching for you, running up your bare legs as you manoeuvre astride him, sitting upon his thighs.

The feeling of his hands, hands you have fantasised about for so long finally running over your skin, gripping your hips as he pulls you closer to him causes little darts of warmth to flicker through you, the heat of his hardening cock right against your apex making you tingle with want. His lips press kisses across your chest, hands moving to cup your breasts, tongue running over the half-moon of each soft orb escaping the top of your dress, his soft groan hungry, fingers moving to lower the zip.

The fabric pools in his grasp as the dress falls from your shoulders, his lips placing ascending kisses to your neck before your mouths finally meet, an exchange of filthy, blazing, hungry need, your heart somersaulting in your chest. His mouth is so ravenous upon you, it knocks you sideways, the urgency of his desire for you, hands clasping at your back, removing your bra will easy skill, like he’s done it a hundred times before.

He probably has.

You feel in nothing short of a hundred percent capable, knowledgeable hands, his mouth moving to suck upon your nipple, your head tipping back as you grind yourself against his hard cock, his teeth prickling in bite upon the pebbled bud in response to that. “Fuck, these are some fucking beautiful tits.” His breath flutters hot against you, summer breezing through a spring chill, warming you to your bones, his tongue running slowly from between your breasts and back to your mouth.

Unbuttoning his waistcoat, your hands slide beneath his braces, levering them from his shoulders, unknotting his tie and unbuttoning his crisp, white shirt, thirsting to feel the skin that lies beneath pressing against yours. His shirt flutters to the floor, his arms tightening around them as your touch tours lithe muscles encased in pale, golden freckled flesh. His hand trails down your body, reaching the cotton of your undies, the fabric dampened by your want for him.

Pushing you back, he moves you to your feet, pupils blown with lust, gripping those soaking undies and tugging them down. Shuffling the chair forward, he lifts your leg over his shoulder, scattering kisses up your inner thigh, the anticipation making you pant, a soft gasp fluttering over your lips as his mouth meets your folds.

A hot lick rolls through the wet of you, the light fleck of stubble adding in delicious contrast, his tongue seeking your clit and circling, flickering, evoking your wails, your hands going to his hair, nails flexing against the shaven sides of his head as you mewl in delight. Each lick has your blood running hot, sends glimmers through you, little shocks of pleasure tingling your entire core as your cries rend the air.

He has you panting hard, each skim of his tongue over your tiny, potent little bundle making your hips rock against his mouth, his arms wound around you, one gripped to your waist, the other squeezing upon the rounded orb of your bum. His full lips close in suck around you, your legs shaking, the heat of it snapping over your bones, the pleasure biting and full-bodied, a bright burn of warmth making the coil within you tighten sharply.

Flattening his tongue against you, he lets you get off on the wide drag of it, the tip caressing your dewy opening as your clit throbs against the press, his hand moving to begin undoing his trousers.

“I could fucking eat your beautiful little cunt forever, darlin’, but god, I need you on my cock.” You’re so aroused, you can barely form thought as he pulls it out, and it’s thick and perfect, running it through the slick petals of your sex as you sit back astride him before feeding it into your gaping little hole, filling you with a rumbling grunt.

White hot pleasure sizzles up your spine, ascending like a flurry of champagne bubbles, the taste of yourself upon his sensuous mouth more erotic than you could have ever imagined, moaning against his tongue as your rock back and forth upon him. The sensations of your walls being split so wide around him has bolts of pure bliss skittering through you, your tender little clit grinding against him as his hips buck up against you, pushing you back to devour your breasts with kisses, nibbles and licks.

The way his hands tour you, stroking ever rise and curve of your body, it has you just as mindless as the delicious drag of his cock over every sweet spot within you, scraping sparks through your walls, his groans deep and rich as he paws at you with unrelenting hunger. The heat of it roars like a forest fire, the embers sizzling over your nerves as your mutual moans fill the space, bliss tumbling through you both. It’s fervid and delicious, scorching and unrelenting, everything you knew sex with John would be now playing out in an illumination of utter sin.

His eyes are a bonfire of blue fire as he stares at you, fingers tangling in your hair, kissing you again with urgent need as his cock sends glimmers fizzing through you. It becomes even more uncontained, the power of him beneath you incredible, hands tightening upon your shoulders as he forces you down upon the rigidity of him, making you to take the brunt of every hard snap of his hips, hitting you so deep, you’re sent reeling and mindless atop him as your thighs tremble.

Your cries reach crescendo as the stars surge forth, entire nebulas glittering into decadent light, your walls fluttering around him, dragging his release from his sweaty body, cock spilling hot into you. You’re both rendered an entwined, panting mess in the wake of it, kissing softly, hands still roaming, John beginning to chuckle.

“Yeah,” he breathes, nuzzling your nose, “definitely the least troublesome favourite of the day.”

You beam, your chest still heaving hard. “Want to take me upstairs and see if I can change that?” Your tongue teases the outer shell of his ear, gently nibbling the soft lobe. “I promise not to buck the jockey off.”

He laughs loudly, locking his arms around you and carrying you to the stairs, his hand smacking against your bum a few times causing your shrieking laughter. “I suppose it’d be fun if you tried to, love.”

#john shelby fanfiction #john shelby smut #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #john shelby x reader #john shelby x you #john shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fic #peaky fucking blinders

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riacte · 9 months ago

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some thoughts about some ren ships:

ren/martyn: it's fine and it's cool until springtime comes and there's a melancholy in the tepid, humid air that clings to your skin and clogs up your lungs. and it's really fine until you start planting carrots again in the way he did and you realise all the small moments in your life have been defined by those few months you spent with him. there's a before and an after. his influence has melted so casually in your daily life that you don't realise it. it takes years for the intensity and absence to sink in even though it's always been there. and you finally understand. what you felt on those carrot fields was love. (note the past tense. note that you're a liar.)

ren/doc: words cannot describe what happened in that damned van. they're not husbands, they're FREAKS. they almost wish they did romantic shit like stargazing and going on dates but it's just a lot of being cooped up in the tiny van and the intimacy of repairing each other's prosthetics and lying in the same bed and staring at each other for hours while listening to nothing but the hum of the air conditioner and each other's breathing. because they're "bros".

ren/cleo: they practice "on and off platonic smooching". whatever that even means. physically affectionate to the point of being disgusting. they can stop and start back again at any time but somehow it's healthy. despite all the intense pda and cuddling and shit, no one emerges emotionally devastated. their dms are just spamming heart emojis.

ren/false: he's been lowkey crushing on her for so long he's genuinely forgotten about it. from her point of view, he's been acting this way around her since forever so she's also forgotten about it. they exist in this miraculous and meticulous limbo in which no one crosses a line because they don't think about it. they have the keys to each other's bases and water each other's flowers. one day they wake up and make each other breakfast and look out at their beautiful mess of a shared garden because it's their sixtieth day of accidental cohabitation and go "how did we get here again".

ren/iskall: i know it's long gone and the magic's not here no more and we can't go back to who we were. maybe i'll joke about "wrong person, right time" but that feels like stabbing myself in the chest with a dull knife. i look at you and from the bottom of my heart, i feel love. regardless of what kind of love it is. when i see you smile, i can still feel it against my lips. so maybe we still wear each other's clothes. so maybe you still drink from that ugly mug i got as a gag anniversary gift. so maybe you still consider sending me a love letter as a joke. best friends to lovers to neighbours. jokes and casual flirtation and even more casual declarations of love. i love you and you love me but we both know it's not the same anymore. still, it was good. for a while, we were good.

#ria.txt #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #ok to be honest. i was just coming up with an excuse to post renskall but the treebark section accidentally got long and uh. it spiralled #late stage hc10 renskall hits crazy to me idk why. the casual but domineering declarations of love. it's like time never passed. but it did #renskall #treebark #rendoc #what are the other names. exploding #zombiedog #falseren #eagledog #renskall is criminally unpopular for the content we get. like guys they were the ones with an actual podcast

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deancasbigbang · 5 months ago

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Title: This Impossible Happiness

Author: FriendofCarlotta

Artist: sidewinder

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Dean/Cas

Length: 50467

Warnings: undefined

Tags: Alternate Universes, Multiple Versions of Dean and Cas, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Post The Winchesters 1x13, Second Chances, Getting Together, Getting Back Together, Mutual Pining

Posting Date: October 22, 2024

Summary: In one universe, Dean Winchester is pushing thirty. He’s just danced at his little brother’s wedding, he likes his job at the garage, and he goes on the occasional hunt with friends and family. He’s also desperately lonely for someone to share his life with. One day, he finds a mysterious package outside his door. It contains a news clipping about an urban legend that just might be real, and a book by Professor Castiel Novak, who happens to specialize in that same urban legend. In another universe, Castiel Novak’s roadside motel is slowly dying, its business hollowed out by the interstate system. Dean Winchester, the man who asked him to run away together years ago, is only a painful regret these days. Until the day a mysterious letter Castiel doesn’t remember writing brings Dean back to his doorstep. Out there in the multiverse, a man and an angel look for each other in all the wrong places. In the meantime, they might as well help a few other versions of themselves figure things out.

Excerpt: The motel is where the memory of Castiel’s father is still alive, in the memorabilia stuffed tightly into Carver Edlund’s Chamber of Horrors — the roadside attraction housed in the small building next door to the Scenic View. It’s nothing but a single room stuffed full of objects that belonged to his father, along with a few life-size recreations of monsters from his books. But it still attracts visitors from time to time, thanks to a single billboard on the interstate. The motel is also where Castiel’s memories of a different man live. And, though Castiel doesn’t like to admit it to himself, those are the memories he clings to the hardest. The summer Castiel turned twenty-five — nearly five years ago now — a drifter washed up at the Scenic View. He’d been traveling the country doing odd jobs for over a year, and he happened to be a big fan of Carver Edlund’s novels. Even all these years later, whenever Castiel dusts the display of his father’s old typewriter inside the Chamber of Horrors, he can still hear Dean exclaim over it, his voice bright and sugar-sweet with delight. Whenever Castiel freshens the paint on the monster replicas, he can still see the childlike glee on Dean’s face when Castiel encouraged him to touch the scarred face of Hatchet Man or the Wraith’s wicked spike. The ghost of Dean’s memory is why Castiel always lingers a little longer than he needs to over the daily cleaning and upkeep of the Chamber of Horrors. It’s also why he saves one of the motel rooms for last — after both the Chamber and all the other rooms have been seen to. Room 8 was Dean’s room. It was here that the two of them became intimate for the first time, on the fourth night of Dean’s stay. As Castiel approaches the door, he pauses — as he always does — with his hand on the doorknob. He remembers how Dean was still nearly a stranger then. A mysterious being of light and laughter who’d come into Castiel’s drab, dreary life to make him forget all about how he’d left college to care for his father through the long illness that eventually took his life. Castiel had wanted him so very much. Every time Dean glanced at him from under his eyelashes or made a flirtation so subtle that it could plausibly be denied, Castiel refused to let himself respond, to believe that someone so lovely could ever want him. And yet, Dean must have read Castiel’s yearning in his eyes, because on that fourth night, shy glances and blushing remarks became an arm slung over his shoulder and the tip of a nose, nudging bashfully against Castiel’s stubbled cheek. It’s pathetic how well Castiel still remembers the details of that night and every night that followed. It’s even more pathetic how, every time Castiel turns the knob of Room 8, he half-hopes to find Dean waiting for him inside, sprawled decadent and freckled atop the covers.

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

#dcbb 2024 #fic preview #2024 promo #deancas #destiel

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redheadspark · 1 year ago

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Barry with #10 please! 🖤

A/N - This is great for Barry! Thanks for the request, anon!

Give Them Hell

Summary - Barry knows just what to say to make the doubt go away

Warning - A mixture of fluff and Angst

“What do you think, luv?”

“I think I wanna jump out the window,”

Barry snorted as he sat next to you on the bed, seeing you shift a bit with your eyes glued to the floor and biting your lower lip. He reached over, lacing your fingers together to press your palm against your calloused one, your perfectly manicured fingers for the premiere glistening in the hotel suite light. Of course, Barry would be calm about this, he’s done this dozens upon dozens of times with both independent flicks and massive blockbusters.

But this was your first one on his arm, and you felt like throwing up.

Barry was never one to be out in the public eye with his personal life, he was private compared to any other actor his age. Rightfully so, needing to build up his own reputation from the ground up without the aid of anyone else in his corner. He kept his nose to his craft, even with the paparazzi hounding him on how his personal life was like. So when you came into the picture, going on a few group outings with mutual friends and then Barry finally asking you out on a date, you should have known that dating an actor meant your own life would be on gossip pages everything once in a while.

And it finally happened, but not in the best light.

It was bad enough to see your face plastered on the mega gossip magazine, a picture of you and Barry out on a private date. But the column that wrote about the “Mystery Girl” and how she must have cozied up to be with Barry for his fame and fortune, hit you hard. It was hard to react to those words when you were working a stressful job 40 plus hours a week when you were trying to repair the relationship in your own family that was severed years ago.

But to be called all of those horrible things…that did hurt and was a low blow.

Barry consoled you when he saw you holding the magazine in your hands, tears in your eyes and the magazine nearly crumpled in your fingers. He took the magazine from your fingers, smoothing it out to see what was printed with his icy blue eyes looking it over the letters. You didn’t have to see the look on his face to know that he was just as mad from what he saw.

“I shouldn’t let it get to me,” You mumbled, Barry still looking at the gossip magazine as you sniffled and pushed the tears away abruptly, “But I just…I hate what they’re saying about me,”

It was worst letting those words get to you, to make your mind wander on that deep part of your brain and always put yourself down. The relationship you had with Barry was amazing, one of the best relationships you’ve ever been in. It was the best you’ve ever had, and Barry with his tough guy persona in front of the camera melted away with you. He was sweet with you, his words of flirtation and affirmation would bring out the best in you, along with his simple gestures of love. He treated you like a queen, more than.

So simple words from a faceless gossip writer should have made you doubt yourself with what you had with one of the best people in the world.

Barry finally crumbled up the paper in his hands, tossing it away from the pair of you as he held you close in his arms. He said nothing, but the way he embraced you was enough for you to know what he wanted to tell you. With an arm around your waist, another around your shoulders to keep you close as you clung onto him, there was more that was said in silence. He told you that he loved you, he told you that he never cared about what others thought about you two being together.

“Those words are nothin’ but lies,” he said against your hair as you were holding him tightly, rubbing your back with his knuckles, “They have nothing else to do but make up lies. I know you, and you are far more amazin’.”

You said nothing, letting all that he was telling you to drink in under your skin. Barry was never afraid to say what was on his mind, whether it was light or sacred. He was brash in nature, but he was genuine at heart. He would never lie to you when it came to his feelings towards you, and to hear him say those words to bring you comfort and move you.

“I love ya,” he hummed to you, still having you tucked in his arms, “You mean more to me than anything, ‘kay? I don’t think I’d be the man I am today if it wasn’t for ya,”

“Barry…” you said his name, but he shook his head to have you look up at him and see how he looked beyond sincere.

“I mean it. You have made me better, and there is nothing or no one, not even a stupid magazine, that will change what I think or how I feel. ‘Kay?” He asked, hope in his tone as you finally smiled for the first time that night. Barry grinned, seeing that small flick of light back in your orbs again as he leaned in to kiss you and let the negativity float away.

The magazine stayed on the floor, curled up in a ball with no more power in the words as Barry kissed you over and over.

“You know you can do this, right?” Barry asked as he leaned his shoulder against yours, “Premiers are a walk in the park,”

“They are to you,” You reminded him as he grinned and shrugged.

“Eh, I don’t take them seriously. Some journalists and photographers are pushovers anyways, plus it’s about the afterparty anyways.” Barry reasoned, you chuckling as he leaned his head over to touch yours. Such a simple gesture, something Barry liked to do to ground himself with you. The butterflies you had from the upcoming event were still evident, but not as bad now that you had Barry by your side and comforting you. You could only think about those gossip magazines, the paparazzi that would hound you every once in a while when you would go to work, and even some of the comments from your co-workers and family members about dating a bold actor like Barry.

However, none of that mattered when it came to Barry and how he adored you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” He said to you calmly, though he saw him crack a grin as you giggled and smiled at him, “Aye, see? That’s the smile I wanna see when you’re on that carpet with me. That smile will tell those naysayers who fuck off,”

“Barry!” You lightly scolded him as you smacked his arm, hearing him laugh as he stood up from the bed and pulled your hand along.

“Come on then, let’s give them hell!” He encouraged you, sounding so confident in himself. And that night was one of the best nights of your life with Barry on your arm.

The End

Hurt and Comfort Prompt Session

#barry keoghan #barry keoghan x reader #fanfiction #writing #my love #barry Keoghan x female reader #barry keoghan fanfiction

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