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peachpitfics · 6 months ago

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Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding. In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

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tagging: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

If you'd like to be added to this tag list, please let me know!

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elsm44 · 4 months ago

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ride it good; ellie williams PURE SMUT NSFW 18+

warnings: thigh riding, ellie guiding you through your high, praise, that’s all :P (lowercase intentional)

ellie was sat at her desk, doodling in her sketch book. you could only see her from the back, but even that was enough to get you going. her black t-shirt and boxers were practically calling your name from all they way over there. you laid on your shared bed pressing your thighs together, trying to suppress the feeling. you didn’t want to interrupt her.

she broke the silence, startling you, and said “i can feel you staring, baby.” you jerked a little bit because honestly, you thought you were getting away with it.

“hm?” you tried to act oblivious.

“c’mere.” she turned around in her swivel chair and patted her lap.

you climbed out of bed and sat on her lap, running your fingers through the backside of her hair. her warm hands grasped your waist firmly and sent immense butterflies through your stomach and chest. it was enough to make you double over.

“what is it?” you asked her, trying to seem as normal as possible. no matter how hard you tried to make it seem like you weren’t, you practically eye-fucking her already.

“don’t start,” she chuckled softly. “i know what you want, y/n.”

you sighed. “i didn’t want to interrupt you.”

bluntly, she said, “i would drop anything to fuck you.“

you tried to press your legs together again, but she noticed this time and brought a hand to your right thigh, grabbing firmly on your flesh. you took this as a sign to turn your body and straddle her in her chair.

“fuck, you’re so pretty.” she mumbled under her breath as she pushed a loose lock of hair out of your face.

“please, ellie…” you whined quietly.

“take off your shorts, yeah?” she was holding back her smirk. you did as you were told and repositioned yourself back where you were.

she connected her lips with yours and brought a firm hand to the back of your head, pulling you in closer, her other hand made it down to your hip and started to rock you back and forth. she could feel your throbbing cunt through your thin panties on her boxers. your quiet moans melted into her mouth and dissolved on her tongue as she dominated the kiss and deepened it.

the grinding became faster before she stopped and pulled away. without warning, she picked you up and placed you on her left thigh. you are a little confused, since she didn’t say anything, but as soon as she began to rock you again you understood.

you buried your face in her neck and kissed her gently as she quickened the pace. her fingers lingered on the waistband of your soaked panties.

“take ‘em off, baby.”

you did as you were told once again and got back into position eagerly, which made her chuckle a little bit. you did the grinding this time, running your wet clit sloppily over her thigh.

“just like that, y/n. i know you have it in you.” her words made you moan louder into her ear.

“shh, they’ll hear us.” her hands gripped your hips tighter and made you move faster. little whimpers and moans filled the room, making it impossible for someone not to hear.

a “god, ellie!” was all you could get out.

“i know that feels good, doesn’t it baby? keep going.” she admired the site of you moving back and forth against her body, watching you unravel in front of her. “yeah, there you go. go ahead baby, let it out.”

your grinding became more and more sloppy, your high approaching. she could sense it too, as your moans were getting louder. she pulled you out from her neck and covered your mouth with her hand, and pushed you out and back in on her thigh as fast as she could. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and grunts poured into her hand. “cum for me, y/n. for me, baby.”

cum spilled out all over her already slippery thigh and left you a breathy mess. your grinding slowed down and you collapsed into her chest, breathing heavily from what just happened.

ellie ran her hand through your hair, and shushed you gently as you caught your breath. “you okay, mama?” you hummed as you pulled away and kissed her cheek tiredly. “got what you wanted, huh?” you chuckled softly and nodded.

she picked you up bridal style and laid you back in bed. she brought a towel to clean the both of you up and changed your clothes for you. she laid down next to you in bed and sighed.

she rolled over and you knew what to do, spooning her from behind. you smiled to yourself, knowing she loved being little spoon.

exhausted, ellie said: “i love you, y/n.”

and just as tired as she sounded, you responded, “i love you more.”

a/n: ummm kind of rushed… i hope it’s not too bad 😬 also not proofread wah wah

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x reader #the last of us #ellie smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #tlou part 2 #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #tlou game #tlou #tlou smut

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radio-fmm · 1 month ago

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Dear Luffy

Luffy x fem!reader

2k words, sfw

Sanji finds out about your crush on Luffy, would he be able to keep the secret?

Masterlist | Pt. 2

Sanji’s heart dropped to the depths of his stomach as he stood still in the middle of your room, a piece of paper in his hands

Truth was he didn’t wanted to be in this position, as incriminating as it looked

You had lost your glasses that morning. You had been looking everywhere but to no avail, the task becoming quite difficult without them too. Of course Sanji being the gentleman he is, offered to help you look starting with your bedroom

Big mistake

His eyes bore at the letter in his hands that had wrinkled under his unrelenting hold. Luffy’s name spelled at the top with dear attached to it with your handwriting makes his eyes drop out of his skull

You like Luffy?

Of course you do, Sanji then recalls all those times you decided to stay up later to accompany him on his night watches so he ‘wouldn’t fall asleep’ face beaming. How you were always, without a doubt, the first to jump on his crazy ideas and adventures. All of the times he had catch you sneaking around the kitchen late at night, only to then find out that Luffy send you for snacks for him to eat knowing he wasn’t allowed. That look of adoration he’ll catch in your eyes when looking up at your Captain

It was unmistakable

“Sanji! I found them!” - Your voice echoed trough the hallway and the cook curses, without missing any more seconds he hides the letter on its rightful place under your pillow and drops to his knees, hopefully he’ll look as if he was innocently searching under your bed he didn’t

The sound of the doorknob followed by his name makes the blood rush to his ears, heart thrumming in his chest as he prays he can meet your eyes like a normal person, trying not to think about the huge secret he just read about

“Thank god my darling!” He gets up at the speed of light, he’s surprised he didn’t passed out from the harsh movement

Immediately you feel something is wrong

Sanji stands in the middle of your room, eyes darting in every direction, clammy hands fiddling with his cigarette, a nervous smile on his features

“Are you ok San-“

“Fantastic! Why wouldn’t I be?-“ Slowly and desperately, the blonde makes his way out of your room, fumbling every step and almost falling along with your dresser that was tucked on the corner of the place -“Anyway, I gotta go back to the kitchen, dinner won’t cook itself!”

Finally he reaches the handle and disappears, his heart pounding and mouth dry

“Nami was right, he’s kinda weird…”

Shit shit shit, he feelt dirty, invading a ladys privacy like that? Unforgivable. What panicked him the most tho, was not what he knew or how he found out, no no no

It was the fact that he knows he won’t be able to shut his mouth about it. Sanji is a bad liar, specially lying to beautiful ladies, and as it turns, there’s 2 very much noisy ladies aboard The Sunny

Shit

His mind in a reverie, shaky slender fingers scavenging for another cigarette as he made a bee-line to the kitchen

“Mr. cook” Robins calls, echoing trough Sanji’s head, a shiver running down his spine as he looks up to her, head resting on her palm, prying eyes examining his every move

“Oh! Tigress, didn’t see you there” he fakes a smile as better as he can, hoping she wouldn’t ask any questions

“Did y/n find her glasses?” There’s a squint, very small and almost undetectable when she mentions you, waiting for a reaction from the poor blonde cook

He sweats, heavily “Ah yes! She did” a painfully fake giggle scapes his mouth along with the smoke he was keeping in. They both stare at each other, as if waiting for someone to do or say anything… after a while Sanji excuses himself to the kitchen, knowing he’ll be safe once he steps in

Very loud, very incorrect buzzer

His relief is short lived as he enters the kitchen and he catches a glimpse of Nami. She was working on some maps, ponytail and glasses on sketching the day away. Sanji’s blood runs cold

You see, there’s a difference between being questioned by Robin and being questioned by Nami, the latter lacking as certain touch when it comes to her words… and being the queen of noisy

“Nami swan” he drags the last word as in disbelief, she has never in the time they had sailed, worked on her maps in any other place that isn’t her office

The navigator’s head snaps. Completely unaware of the panic petrifying him at the entrance “Oh hey Sanji! The sun hits the kitchen at this hour, better light” she points to her work before getting back to it

Surely he could make it right? Cook for the whole crew without spilling a syllable of what he had read, sounds easy enough

Again, very loud incorrect buzzer

“LUFFY?” Nami’s voice echoes trough the walls, her maps long forgotten as the poor poor cook stood mortified in front of the half cubed vegetables for the soup he was planning to do

Turns out the navigator was far more preceptive than he thought. Sanji was reciting every single detail of what happened within 30 minutes of him just smoking like a psycho and cutting vegetables in terrible cubes

“You can’t tell anyone! She would never forgive me for accidentally snooping around” he begs, resuming his meal prep

“Whatever, that’s not the important part! We have to do something with this” she presses the matter with wide eyes

“No”

“Yes!”

“Darling we-“

“We should what?” Both of the very loud crewmates remain frozen, eyes wide and mouth agape as the Captain himself stands at the door, nostrils open as he takes in the aroma of the soon to be dinner, behind him walks Robin, a sly smile on her lips

Silence, deafening silence

“What were you talking about?” Of course the archeologists pushes the matter, already knowing something was stewing between the two

“Nothing” both culprits answer as they resume their individual tasks that had been forgotten

Robin is no fool, she notices how both steal panicked glances at her Captain who is just completely lost on the dinner cooking up in front of him to notice. How Sanji, the best cook she had ever had the chance to encounter is messing up steps as he fights to make the soup. How Nami kept re drawing the same set of mountains on the map

The tension was no joke

“Captain, did Mr. Shooter showed you the impressive fish he caught this morning?” Luffy brightens at Robins words

“WHAT? I have to see it! Bet it would taste delicious!” In a blink, Luffy has left the kitchen enticing a relieved sigh from the cook that does not go amiss for anyone

“You two are going to tell me what’s going on”

That damn soup was taking way too long, Luffy was bouncing up and down impatiently, stomach loud with hunger. You being the good friend that you are decided to try and get a snack, maybe a little flutter from your eyelashes would get Sanji to budge and let you take something before dinner. The Sunny was rarely quiet, the sound of the oceans waves crashing on the ship a sweet melody that had you skipping happily. As you neared the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks as a set of voices reached your ears, was there a meeting or something? Weird, Sanji doesn’t like a lot of people around when he’s cooking

Curiosity got the cat, you rest your ear flat against the door trying to make out the conversation behind it

“… a letter… it was an accident… she really likes him… he has no idea… you know how Luffy is…”

A surprised gasp leaves your mouth before you can catch it, hands run to your mouth as you stay put before the door, brain scrambled as it glues the pieces together

Someone found your love letter

The sound of heavy heels approaching the door takes you out of your daze as you scurry away like a cat, running away from the inevitable. You hear Nami call your name but the embarrassment doesn’t allow you to turn as you scape to your room

Closing the door behind you with a loud tud, you run to your bed and find the letter under your silky pillow, your face turning red as you imagine one of your crewmates reading your words. You can hear your heart in your ears before you reap the letter, the sound deafening on your quiet bedroom. How pathetic you felt, like a spec of dust on a shelve with your feelings in your throat

Of course you were a no show for dinner, worried faces on Sanji, Nami and Robin who decided to leave you alone, the damage already done they didn’t wanted to pester you any more than they already had

You were a very shy person when it came to this kind of things, which was funny considering you were usually a very confident and outspoken person, but feelings? they were too much for you, opting by writing them down which you now see as probably a bad habit. You curse for the millionth time staring up at the ceiling in hopes the ocean would leak in and take you away, spitting you on the other side of the world. A couple of nocks on your door stop your train of thought, you don’t answer making the person on the other side impatient, so they opt to just open your door

Luffy stares at you for a moment as so do you, he didn’t know what was happening thank god

“Are you ok? You didn’t came down for dinner” something Luffy didn’t joked about was food that’s for sure

“Yeah I’m… just a little tired”

He grimaces, a rare look on the strawhat boy it makes you wince

“But you need to eat” he retorts

“I’ll eat later Luf, don’t worry”

He stares again, big chocolate eyes looking you up and down, a contemplative hmm vibrating from his chest. You remain frozen, still too embarrassed to even meet his eyes for more than 5 seconds

“You know you can tell me anything right?” Luffy had this amazing ability of always finding the correct words, your face falls and you swear your pulse had accelerated enough to be audible. You sit with his statement, and you feel troubled. Of course he’s right as he always is, it makes you feel stupid to even think about being embarrassed about having feelings, but you steal a glance at his face and the red in your cheeks remind you why are you feeling so mortified

Remind you how dear he is to you

You would hate yourself forever if you were to ever ruin this, this friendship and trust with your Captain. You value that above all else even if it means hiding during meals

“Yes, of course Luf” you smile, a hurtful kind of smile that makes the rubber boy grimace even more

“I can eat with you if you want”

“I said I am tired”

“Yeah but like, if you are up for it later” his genuine concern bends your will, not being honest to him burns like acid

“I’ll let you know if I go to the kitchen”

Finally Luffy gives you the most beautiful bright honest smile, then he just disappears

This whole situation was so stupid, why were you embarrassed about feeling feelings? How dumb. If someone would’ve told you how difficult it would be to deal with love at sea, maybe you would’ve thought a little more about becoming a full time pirate

Of course you went down to eat your dinner later that day, of course Sanji happily warmed it up fro you and of course Luffy joined you

And of course he ate half of it

Pt.2

#one piece #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x you #monkey d luffy x y/n #monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #luffy one piece #one piece one shot #luffy oneshot #fanfic #one piece fanfiction #wirting

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blindmagdalena · 7 months ago

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Guilty Pleasures ( chapter four )

18+ 5.2k homelander x plus size f!reader. office romance, stalking, voyeurism, office sex, cunnilingus, cream pie, breast play, flight sex, lite overstim, riding. nebulously takes place post s1. part 4/4. AO3 link. | Chapter Directory

Homelander takes what's his, and you get what's yours.

welcome to the final chapter! thanks so much for reading. i really enjoyed the dynamic between these two, and i hope you do, too. 🖤

Homelander doesn’t hold it against you that you take him up on his suggestion to be absent the following day. He leaves a little peace offering in your office to say as much: a mug for your collection that reads simply, You’ve Been Mugged. He adjusts it seven times on your desk before he finally leaves it alone, surveying your office a while before letting himself out.

The thugs he lasered down in the alley don’t garner much attention, but it’s enough to warrant a statement on the truth of what happened. With them dead, the truth becomes whatever he makes of it, and his truth is that two vagabonds were assaulting a cherished Vought employee before he put a stop to it.

It’s precisely the kind of hero story the public loves.

“I acted on instinct,” he tells the newscaster. He relives the moment as he tells it, recalls only to himself how fierce you had been. How determined you were that if you were going to die, you would die fighting. “They were going to hurt her. I like to believe any good citizen in my position would have done the same.”

Madelyn taught him that conviction without contrition would always read as arrogance, so he speaks firmly but with a furrow to his brow, and he closes his eyes when he inclines his head to accept praise. No matter how dead she is, her voice remains an echo in his mind: follow the script, and you’ll be fine.

They use his words to segue into a discussion of gun control, and Homelander’s mind drifts somewhere distant, hearing without listening to the petty squabbles of humans crying about their little toys and laws. He supposes this is how God feels when humans pray to Him over every minor inconvenience. Bored and painfully above it.

While it’s easy enough to keep himself distracted during business hours, Homelander’s life comes to an abrupt halt alongside the end of the working day. Like the equipment that broadcasts him, there’s little use for him once the cast and crew goes home. All around him the employees commiserate at the end of their work day and pass around invitations to the bar.

He receives none.

Not that he would accept them if he did.

Seeking both council and companionship, Homelander finds himself in Noir’s apartment, seated in the chair Noir keeps for him. It’s the only one the hero owns, what with his interior design being deeply steeped in westernized ninja nonsense. The place is half dojo, half living quarters.

He laments his situation to Noir, explaining his patience in courting you, the lengths he’s gone to endear himself to you on a personal level, and the bitter sting of your rejection.

“See her,” Noir writes in his sketchpad, sitting on the floor on the other side of the low table. “If glad to see her, good. If not–”

Homelander snorts at the series of knife sketches that follow. He has no doubt Noir would put an end to anyone for any reason Homelander gave. Simplicity has allowed Noir an unwavering loyalty to Vought, and as an extension, Homelander himself. Luckily for you, he has no interest in that happening. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Noir,” he muses, clapping his hands on his thighs before he stands up. “You’re right. I’ll go see her. Thanks, buddy.”

Noir offers two thumbs up. A true uproar of approval.

Under the cover of darkness, Homelander returns to your house, the flight path a familiar one now. He lands silently on your roof this time, cocking his head. He’s not confident he’ll be able to resist your siren pull if he approaches now. He folds his hands behind his back and peers through each layer between him and your bedroom, stopping when he can see you.

You’re nestled deep in the splay of your blankets, lips parted around shallow breaths. He bites his own bottom lip, remembering how badly he’d wanted to feel them. Taste them. He’s certain now that if he allowed himself to be close enough, he would. Denial, for as much as it stung in that moment, has only made him hungrier for you. Fuck, the way he’s craved you from the moment you first brushed him aside.

He watches you shift in your sleep and his eyes narrow, honing in on a familiar flash. His stomach flips–it’s his cape, the fabric pinned between your blanket and your body. You really are sleeping with it, the star spangled blue fabric tucked up under your chin. Do you smell him on it? Homelander groans softly. Like your underwear in his bedside drawer, you sleep with a trophy of your own.

“Fuck,” he says, aching. His heart, his mind, his cock–all of it at once a cacophony of vicious yearning and impatience. The urge to peel the roof like a sardine can and carve his way straight to you nearly knocks the wind out of him, has him preemptively reaching for the shingled surface.

Only the lingering wound to his ego gives him pause. He’s been bitten once, leaving him shy to instigate, but this revelation feels like progress. You’re aching for him as much as he is for you. He’s sure of that now. It’s time that he made you feel that ache. Feel his absence. Then you’ll realize the foolishness of your coy game.

Clenching his jaw defiantly, Homelander lifts up into the sky.

He’ll be benevolent when you come to your senses.

The next day, Homelander keeps himself scarce, preoccupied. Ashley is perkier than usual, thrilled–if not suspicious–with his easy participation in whatever inane business she brings to him. It helps distract him from the endless feeling of waiting that he’s enduring.

He sticks stubbornly to his schedule, fantasizing about the torment his avoidance has surely wrought. He’s tempted a time or two to break, but each time he remembers the mortified Oh! you uttered before he kissed you, he refocuses himself.

You’ll come.

Not before lunch, but that is the perfect opportunity for it. He makes himself more available then, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his chair.

No sign of you.

He gives you the benefit of the doubt. A meal to embolden you.

Then you’ll come.

He waits.

Lunch long since over.

He waits.

The day is winding down.

He’s fucking tired of waiting.

Where the hell are you? He’s given you the entirety of the day to seek him out, ample opportunity to come thank him for his gift, to address the aching thing ruminating between you. You’d be a fucking liar to say you don’t feel it, too. By midday, he’s seething with impatience and hurt. There’s no chance he’s going to let you stand him up.

It’s precisely the wrong time for Ashley to rear her head back up. “Okay! That’s that, now regarding the amnesty for–”

��Ashley!” He snaps, a harsh and throaty sound. “Would you shut the fuck up?”

She stops in her tracks, staring wide-eyed. Of course it was too good to be true.

Homelander all but leaps to his feet, pushing out of his chair so hard that it flips backwards and into the wall in a heavy clatter. She clutches her vPad to her chest and quickly back steps out of his way, watching in frightened bewilderment as he storms from the room, making a beeline towards your office.

He doesn’t bother knocking this time. Still, his restraint is undeniable when he pushes your door open. He barely catches himself from pushing the damn thing clean off the hinges.

Your head snaps up from your computer, eyes wide. He hears your heart jump and he savors the alarm that shoots through you. Payback for the awful misery you forced him to endure in the hours since he last saw you. Still, the sight of you disarms him. For all his seething anger, there is something small in him that retreats it when your eyes are on him.

There’s a heaviness to your gaze that his strength can do nothing to alleviate. No incredible feat of his can wrench away what it is he wants from you. What he needs. It’s something you have to give him willingly, and that alone is enough to temper his rage. The familiar fear that you won’t.

He marches to the front of your desk and levels an accusatory finger on you.

“You like me,” he hisses, bending to brace his opposite hand on your desk.

You blink owlishly, lips parted. That clearly wasn’t what you expected him to say. He’s not sure it’s what he meant to say. “Homelander–”

“No,” he says, voice pitched low, a warning. “No, no. No games, no workarounds. You like me. You do. And I like you. So,” he abandons his point to make a vague encompassing gesture, but he doesn’t know what to say next. He didn’t think this far ahead. All day he had practiced the calm benevolence he would show when you approached him, chastised and yearning. He has nothing to back up this frenzied play for.

You stand. Homelander rises to his full height with you, jutting his chin out. He watches you with all the wariness of a wounded predator as you circle around your desk, your hand gliding along the wood like you would flank a horse so as not to spook it.

He can’t determine the intent behind your gaze. He angles his body towards you, facing you head on. You look like yourself again, in your element and free from the fawn fear of the alley. He can’t entirely decide which way he prefers you. When you were in his arms, he was your hero. In your office, his position feels more precarious.

The silence stretches on for hours–or seconds, it’s impossible to say–before he can no longer stand it. Sucking in a breath, he–

You kiss him.

Homelander goes shock still, hyper aware of your lips pressed feather light to his, your breasts against his chest, your hand on his forearm. He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but he senses when you begin to pull away.

In a flash he cups your face in his hands and pulls you in deep, inhaling sharply, like he’s only just remembered how to breathe. He kisses you, kisses you, kisses you as if he can trap you in the cycle of it. You don’t resist, you don’t tense. Instead, you sigh an angel’s breath against his lips. Only then does he break to look at you.

“I don’t understand,” he says, bewildered, flushed.

“I do like you,” you say, eyes glassy.

His brows pinch. “But… That night–”

“Wasn’t right,” you interrupt. “I wanted to kiss you, but not like that. Not then. Not because you saved me, not because I was in shock, not because of…” you rock your head side to side. “Whatever other bullshit… You let me down that night.”

“Let you down?” Homelander echoes, taken aback. “By saving your life?” He asks, his temper a perpetual simmer ready to flare. He’s immediately tempered by your hands taking his wrists, squeezing. You hold his gaze and your expression is gentle, but there is a firmness in your stare that he finds intoxicating. Not an ounce of fear, even when his anger emerges.

Good. You shouldn’t be afraid of him. He saved you.

“I was shaken. Badly. My date was an entitled asshole, those men, they tried to…” You shake your head, holding his hands to your face. “I didn’t need you to be a man. I needed you to be a hero. I wasn’t ready.”

A light in Homelander’s eyes flicks on. You just weren’t ready. He’d been right after all. He fixates on that, choosing to forgive you for that, at least.

“Well, why didn’t… You could have said something,” he says, feeling like a deflated hot air balloon, all slack expansion and heat with no purpose.

“I would have,” you say, your cheeks soft and round in his hands, lips slightly puckered from his hold on your face. “But you ran away.”

“What? I–” He laughs incredulously. “I did not run away.”

“Flew away,” you say, pushing in to kiss him again. He screws his eyes shut. Fuck, fuck. Oh fuck. He’s been dreaming of this, aching for it. To feel you against him, wanting him as much as he wants you. “Pretty fast, too. Looked like you shot straight up to the moon,” you say, breath hot and sweet on his lips.

“I…” He swallows, hands slipping down to either side of your neck, thumbs tilting your chin up. “I’m sorry. I wanted you,” he says, trailing his parted lips along your jaw, kissing and breathing you in the way he’s craved to. He can feel your skin growing hot against his lips, hear the uptick of your pulse as your heart begins to race.

“Do you still want me?” You ask, voice lower now. It sends a delicious hot pang all the way through him.

“You have no fucking idea,” he murmurs, nipping at the lobe of your ear, desperate to test the give of you under his teeth, the feel of your soft and yielding flesh branded into his memory the moment his lips touched your skin.

A knock snaps his attention away from you, but it isn’t at the door. He looks down and sees that it’s you knocking on your desk. “So take me,” you say, voice laced with heat. His lips split into a wicked grin. He snatches the edge of your heavy wooden desk and effortlessly tips it backwards until everything slides off of it, clattering to the floor. He lifts you up, relishing your delighted little yelp, and places you down on the cleared surface like a doll, stepping in between your legs.

He kisses you again. Let me in, demands the press of his tongue. You yield to him, but it’s far from a surrender. Your tongue meets his eagerly, tasting him as much as he does you. Tasting you. That’s what he wants. He wants to map every inch of you with his tongue.

Homelander slips his hand between your legs, pushing your skirt up out of the way. He presses his fingers to the heat between your thighs, rubbing through the thin fabric of your panties. You sigh that same seraphic sound against his lips, slipping your hands up into his hair, already taking a handful of it to tug gently.

He breaks the kiss and takes his fingers from you after the barest tease of pleasure. The impatient sound you make goes straight to his cock, as does your flustered expression. He brings his fingers to his lips and drags his tongue over the leather of them, sliding them past his lips to give a quick suck. It’s not enough, too slight a hint of you. He needs more. You watch him with rapt attention, giving his hair a demanding little tug.

“You can pull as hard as you like,” he tells you with a smile, tilting his head against the grasp you have on his hair. “Tells me I’m doing a good job.”

“I’ll tell you when you’re doing a good job,” you rasp, giving his hair a sharp pull and then a downward push. That sends a shiver down his spine.

Fuck yes.

Homelander sinks down onto his knees, lifting each of your legs up over his shoulders. You give a little gasp when he yanks your ass to the edge of the desk, giddy with the way he manhandles you. He swallows, mouth dry, thirsty for the wet, heady smell of your pussy. He maneuvers his head under your skirt until he’s close enough to drag his tongue up the soft cotton of your panties. Your breath hitches and your grip in his hair tightens while you egg him on with sharp little rolls of your hips.

He closes his eyes, giving a rumbling moan for the taste of you, even through the fabric. He laps until the fabric is soaked, clinging to your skin, and he can feel your clit swollen and stiff on his tongue through your panties. He closes his mouth over it, sucking you through your underwear while you writhe above him, keeping yourself quiet.

That won’t do.

He wants to hear you.

He wants the whole fucking Tower to hear you.

Hooking the crotch of your panties with his finger, it only takes one sharp little tug to tear them, exposing you to him.

“Homelander,” you moan. The sound of it lances a spear of heat through him, leaves his cock throbbing needily in the rigid confines of his cup. He groans into you, rocking his hips against the empty air. The only proper answer is to dive in, to close his lips around your clit and finally suck the rich nectar of your cunt without the filter of fabric between you. You taste even better than you smell, like salt and sex and sweet ripe fruit. It overwhelms his senses immediately, his eyelids flickering.

The more he laps at you, the silkier your pussy becomes. Between circling your clit, he drives his tongue deep into you, drinking you down noisily and messily, a parched man gulping from an oasis. Your thick thighs are tight on either side of his head, your pulse pounding in his ears. He moans low and wicked for the taste and feel of you.

Your grip on his hair tightens sporadically, sharp little tugs that match the staccato cadence of your breaths. “F-fuck, your tongue feels-feels fucking unreal,” you moan, grinding down against it. The strength of it, the slight thrum of restrained power that courses through him, and the sheer relentlessness of his stamina is driving you wild against his mouth. “Fingers, use your fingers,” you tell him. He loves the rawness of your voice, the authority and desperation in your demand.

Removing one of his gloves, he moves his bare hand to the sweltering wetness of you, teasing his finger just below where his tongue is rubbing your clit. His index finger slips easily into the slick mess, and he savors the quiver of your velvet walls around it. He lets you ride his finger, stays all but still while you greedily bounce your hips, both hands fisted in his hair. You use him for your pleasure, and it makes him delirious with want.

Homelander's gaze flickers up. He peers through the layer of your skirt to catch a look at you, to watch you while you cannot watch him. You’re losing track of yourself, lips parted, eyes glazed with pleasure, shivering with each flick of his tongue and dive of his finger. Euphoria looks good on you.

Christ, he has been patient. He would chastise himself for waiting so long to touch you, to taste you, to feel you, but he can’t bring himself to. The wait gifted him with this exquisite hunger, and he proved something important; you both yearn for the other. You crave him. He can see it in your hazy eyes, taste it in the spill of your sweet cunt.

You belong to him. He needs only to take you.

One finger becomes two, and then three. Your heels dig into his shoulders and fuck yourself down on them, moaning recklessly now, not caring who hears you. It’s music to his ears.

“Fuck, Homelander, I-I’m coming, I’m-don’t stop, don’t stop,” you beg prettily. You don’t need to, but he enjoys the song anyway. He laps at your clit in quick upward pulls of his tongue, lips creating a seal around it. His brows furrow tightly, his own neglected arousal pounding through his body like a wardrum, but he doesn’t touch himself, too focused on you.

Your whole body locks up tight when you come, breath caught in your lungs, your clit fluttering delicately. He presses his tongue to it, savoring the taste of your euphoria, how it floods your system and changes the flavor of you. Your pleasure grows his hunger into something monstrous, something demanding, but there is satiation at least in bringing you this, in showing you all the things he will be for you.

You’ll never want for anyone–or anything– else ever again.

Homelander doesn’t stop. You begged him not to. He finger-fucks you through the aftershocks, lapping up every drop of your pleasure, stroking you inside and out while your cunt squeezes his fingers. He doesn’t stop until he feels you pushing him away, your sweet songbird moans sounding more like whimpers, oversensitized. He withdraws his fingers, giving one last noisy slurp before emerging from beneath your skirt. His face is shiny and wet with your slick, his pupils blown black. He's panting, looking every bit like a beast lifting its bloodied head from the belly of its kill.

Crawling up your body, still predator hungry, he rests his knee on the desk between your legs. He cups either side of your face, fingertips digging possessively into the back of your neck. He meets your eyes, pinning you with the intensity of his gaze, wordlessly drilling into your mind that this moment, this feeling, this tingling warmth in your body is him.

I did this to you, his expression reads. You’re on my lips, he says by pressing them to yours, kissing your own taste into your mouth, his body throbbing, desperate for an ounce of that same relief. You’re mine.

To his amazement, your eyes mirror his own savage hunger. You kiss him hard, shamelessly licking into his mouth, huffing shallow breaths from your nose. “Lie down,” you tell him, voice as sweet and coarse as raw sugar. “I’m going to ride you.”

Homelander doesn’t need to be told twice. Exhilarated, he rolls over, flipping you with him and steadying you above him in a fluid motion. The desk isn’t as long as he is tall, but it doesn’t matter. He’s already half suspended in the air with his own excitement, helping you with overly eager hands that fumble alongside yours with his belt, which falls to the ground with a distinct thud. He gives a little jump at the voracity you rip his zipper down with, grinning.

Together, you shuck his pants down to his thighs. You grip him through his red briefs, a fractured moan falling from his lips.

“Cute underwear,” you coo. His cheeks flush to almost the same shade. You flatten your palm over his cock and he bites back a whimper, teeth sinking into his tongue. You give a light squeeze, fingers curling around his cock through the fabric, and he lets out a rough breath. “You feel close,” you tell him, stroking him in a loose fist, your hand warm, the fabric soft.

He nods fervently, the friction and your voice already teetering him towards the edge. He makes a sound of both anguish and relief when you release him, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. You tug his underwear down, his cock bouncing free, engorged and dripping precome.

“Don’t move,” you tell him, bracing one hand on his chest and sliding forward, your other hand moving between your bodies to steady his cock against the rapturously hot press of your soaked cunt. His hands fly to your hips, fingertips biting into the softness of your body. You allow him that, focused entirely on the act of taking him into you. The fat head of his cock it slips inside, evoking a sweet little gasp from you, and Homelander fights not to slam in the rest of the way.

Both of your hands fall to his chest, your eyes meeting his. He holds your gaze, mouth twitching around silent sharp breaths. He watches you sink slowly down the length of him, engulfing him in such sublime rapture it’s a wonder he doesn’t come right then and there for the feel of you alone. His grip on your hips flexes and he gives a sharp little thrust up, forgetting himself to the divine feel of your pussy.

“I said don’t move,” you remind him breathlessly. God, you’re beautiful like this. The fluorescent light behind your head haloes you, giving you the look of a debauched angel he plucked from the heavens to have and keep as his own. He expects you to move, to bounce yourself on his cock like you did his mouth and his fingers. He wants to watch your tits bounce, see your face clearly when you come on his cock, but the only part of you that moves is your hand.

His gaze drops and quickly darkens, watching intently as you stroke your clit. The initial contact alone makes you jerk, makes your pussy spasm and squeeze him so good he almost chokes on it. Your only response is to sigh, tipping your head back and spreading your legs a little wider, taking him deeper. He wants so badly to fuck you, to slam you down and rail you until your desk cracks in half.

“Mmmm, fuck,” you moan, rubbing yourself in circles, the lewd noise of it loud and irresistible to his ears. “Fuck, fuck–ah, god,” you start to pant, head falling forward, brows tightly pinched. You’re so sensitive after the assault of his mouth, the flavor of you still fresh on his tongue. The faster your fingers move, the closer he feels you get, the clench around his cock steadily tightening. He wants to thrash, but you keep him pinned in place with your look of expectation and pleasure. You’re getting off on him as much as you are your own fingers, on the swell and throb of his cock inside you, on the sheer power you hold over a god.

You’re loud when you come, nails clawing into the chest of his suit. Homelander’s eyes roll back, lips parted on a soundless cry of his own. The spasming heat of your release is too much and he loses himself to it, eyes flaring up with crimson light as he comes with you, every shudder of your climax stroking and milking him of his own, flooding you with his own wet mess.

His restraint breaks with the dam and he sits up abruptly, startling a noise from you, which he swallows with a hard kiss, cupping the back of your head. He holds you still and he fucks you, lifting from the desk entirely so that he alone supports your weight, driving you deeper onto his cock. Your legs tighten on either side of him, shaking.

Out of his mind with pleasure, he tears your blouse open with his teeth, diving in close to lick, suck and bite at your chest. He buries his face between your breasts, holding you tightly as he fucks you both through your respective orgasms, the slap of flesh against flesh echoing obscenely in your office.

Hitching your legs properly around his waist, he bounces you on his cock until the pleasure borders on pain and a secondary shock rolls through him like another orgasm, stealing his breath. Only then does he finally slow, mouthing languidly at your chest until he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He moans against you, grinding to an eventual halt. You comb your fingers through his hair and goosebumps erupt across his body, which shivers in the euphoric aftermath.

He loses track of how long he stays suspended like that, lost to the overwhelm of sensation. Your legs go slack while his angles slightly upward, his face pressed to your chest, your head resting atop his. He nuzzles at you, bleary eyed and slack with pleasure. He kisses a trail up to your clavicle, your throat, your jaw, smiling in the loose, easy way that only a good fuck can never make him.

“Wow,” he says after a while, voice thoroughly frayed.

You giggle, groggily lifting your head. He adjusts until you can relax against his chest, fold your forearms across it and settling your chin atop them, admiring him. He touches your face with his ungloved hand, stroking your cheek with his thumb, then the curve of your bottom lip. His smile widens when you kiss the pad of his thumb.

“Wow indeed,” you say, swinging your legs lightly. “Can’t say I’ve ever been fucked mid-air.”

“One of the many benefits of dating me,” he purrs, caressing your cheek with his knuckles. He kisses you again, drifting slowly back down, unhurried.

Your brows lift lazily. “Who says we’re dating?” You ask, but your smile keeps his hackles from rising.

“Me,” he says, eyes crinkled at the corners. He lands gently on the desk, helping you to it. “You and I are officially going steady.”

You give a thoughtful hum, carefully untangling your limbs from his. You slide off of the desk while he puts himself back together, your knees trembling faintly. “Fairly sure asking someone out requires a question mark. You know. The asking part. You didn’t even buy me dinner.” You attempt to button up your shirt, but it’s obviously a lost cause.

He exhales a quiet laugh, pulling you back into his arms. “Well, I certainly ate.”

“God,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, but they don’t stray from him for long. There’s a sparkle to your gaze that he wants to capture in his palm and never set loose.

“Will you go out with me?” He asks, lips brushing yours.

“Mmmmmmmm….” You hum once more, drawing it out, feigning a great deliberation. “There’s something you should know first.”

He quirks a brow. “What’s that?”

“My guilty pleasure,” you say, nose bumping his.

Intrigued, he inclines his head to prompt you to continue. Can’t be worse than mine.

“Superheroes,” you say conspiratorially. “Can’t get enough of them. Loved them my whole life. Especially this one in particular…”

He breaks into a frayed, charmed laugh. “Let me guess, name starts with an H?”

You suck in a breath through your teeth, lips curved downward in a mock grimace, and nod subtly. “ Total fangirl. Embarrassing, right?”

Homelander shakes his head. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never felt guilty about pleasure. Where’s the harm in it?”

The harm inflicted on those thugs couldn’t count. They had it coming.

“Harm to my pride, my ego, my reputation,” you list, tapping his suit to punctuate each one. “I made a pretty big fuss about not liking you. I had myself convinced that my Homelander only existed in my fantasies, and you were just the guy who plays him.”

My Homelander. The words stir an unexpectedly sentimental surge of emotion that wells up from somewhere deep in his chest. He clears his throat lightly. “What’s the verdict now?”

You sweep him with an appraising gaze. “Still deliberating.”

He clicks his tongue, nodding. “I don’t suppose I could arrange a meeting with the jury?”

“They’re available for dinner tomorrow,” you say, the tilt of your lips sly.

“It’s a date,” he murmurs, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. You kiss him, pressing your smile to his. He doubts he’ll ever tire of the softness of your lips, or the easy way you melt against him. He wraps his arms around you, content to let this moment pass only because he knows there will be more to come. He’s determined to make every one of them better than the last.

All of the pleasure, none of the guilt.

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #my writing #x reader #yandere x reader

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vaaaaaiolet · 5 months ago

Text

It's Christmas Eve and Leon can't quite wrap his head around his drop-dead-gorgeous girlfriend's need to be 4 inches off the ground, but maybe there's more to your fashion choices than what he considers a faux pas.

f / m, established relationship, tooth ROTTING fluff, the barest baby twinge of angst and surprise ending ehehehe. also, super short!

word count: 898 // read on ao3

a/n: christmas in july oh my lord. tmi i'm on my period and i've had lover by taylor swift on blast for 3 hours :( give your girl a break and pretend my dividers match

this fic belongs to sketches for my sweetheart the drunk, a collection of bite-sized fics to stretch out my writing muscles :) i hope you enjoy!

“No, sweetheart, the- no, the buckle comes off the other way.”

If he were a lesser man, Leon would be laughing his head off at your flushed cheeks and bleary pout. You were going to do this right here, right now, plunked on the frozen stoop of your front door, mere steps from the warmth of your apartment.

“I can take off my own shoes! I bought them my- hic! -self.”

“You did, sweetheart, “ Leon soothes as he gets down on one knee, “and I know you can take them off fine, but you weren’t drunk when you bought them, were you?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m just...” you sulk. You would have sold the act too if it wasn’t for a sleepy jerk of your head. You always get sleepy when you’re, “...tipsy.”

Ah, there it is.

Your toes are a half-frozen cherry red as Leon unclasps the buckle adorning your beloved heels.

There’s not much Leon can do about your affinity for heels, even in the winter, so he grew a sixth sense for detecting falls around the time you almost tripped headfirst into the Christmas table at your parents’ house. You haven’t quite put together yet why he’s so on his toes when you wear stilettos, but Leon is okay with that. Batman never reveals his identity and if this is how he keeps Gotham’s urgent cares a little less occupied, so be it.

The fact of the matter is that Leon has perfected his method to three steps:

Watch for abnormal movement in your fingers. You start fluttering them like you’re Tinkerbell. Like you’re trying to take off from the ground and fly right back up to heaven without him, and he can’t have that just yet.

Assume position when you start laughing too hard at his jokes to distract from the fact that you’re about to fall. You never laugh at his one-liners (the best he’s ever gotten out of you is a giggle and that was on his birthday).

Engage nearest mode of rescue the second your eyes start flitting around in search of a place to land.

But above all, the one condition that puts him on red alert is when you’ve been drinking. His sweetheart is a complete lightweight.

And tonight, you’d had too much fun at Claire’s Christmas dinner.

It takes a little longer than usual for Leon’s icy fingers to undo the buckle on your other shoe. “The mulled wine was that good, huh?” he asks, his lips curving into a smile as he looks up at you and your crossed arms.

He gets a hmph! in response.

“You look beautiful. You always do, it’s just…could we maybe save the ankle-breaking shoes for when the ground’s not frozen over?”

The frown flies back on your face within seconds. His peace treaty’s gone south. “But Leon, they’re my Christmas heels! I always wear them on Christmas.”

Oh, he knows.

“That’s why they’re Christmas heels,” you point out.

Of course, you’re right. They’re the very same Christmas heels that so rudely interrupted his enjoyment of your mom’s to-die-for lamb roast. Leon’s also sure that they’re the ones that got repurposed on New Year’s Eve two years back. He had to kiss you under the table next to the girls chowing down grapes, and it’s a lot less romantic when half of them shoot you death glares while they’re wishing to not spend Valentine’s Day alone again. Come to think of it, Leon hasn’t had grapes in a while.

“It’s not Christmas if I don’t wear them,” you mumble.

You don’t sound so sure of yourself.

Leon’s plea deal might be back on the table.

His thumb rubs circles on your ankle as you swallow. His knee’s freezing over, almost attached to the sidewalk by now, but your mouse-quiet confession glues him to the spot.

“I lied.”

“These aren’t your Christmas heels?”

A snowdrop tear rolls down your cheek.

“I didn’t buy them. You did, for me. I love them. Love you.”

You sniffle so sweetly, your cheeks still candy-apple red as he wraps your scarf tighter to keep you from catching a cold on his account. But it’s not enough to distract Leon from the fact that he bought you these shoes?

Oh no, no, no, you’re nodding as Leon’s face freezes into a horrified grimace. He’s responsible for the Heels from Hell?

“Sweetheart, I just don’t want you getting hurt.” He takes your hands in his as your lower lip wobbles. He feels just awful. “It’s Christmas because I get to spend it with you, okay? Heels or no heels.”

“You mean it?”

“Those damn things have nearly sent you to the hospital, of course I mean it.”

And finally, finally, you smile. Hark! The herald angels sing.

“Let’s get you inside.” Leon smiles back, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He’d have gotten up too if he hadn’t suddenly come to a comical stop, his left knee still perpendicular to the ground.

You look down and stifle a giggle. “Leon, you’re frozen to the sidewalk.”

“So I am. Ow.”

You lend him a helping hand as the two of you stumble inside the warm apartment, and Leon thinks he’ll go online shopping once you fall asleep. For less dangerous Christmas heels, sure.

But also something else. Something shiny.

He really didn’t mind being on one knee for you.

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

#leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #vaaaaaiolet #ao3 fanfic

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bruisedboys · 1 year ago

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reader and peeta showering together after a hard day (just some innocent intimacy nothing suggestive) 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 love this man sm 😭🤞🏻🤞🏻

!!!!!! thank you for the req angel <3 this inspired me so so much! thanks for kickstarting my writing for peeta era hehe

peeta mellark x fem!reader 16+ please for non-sexual nudity. not really in universe but can read as post mockingjay if you want it to!

Peeta’s sketching on the bed when you come inside. One knee propped up with his back against the wall behind the bed, his sketchbook pressed against his thigh. His golden hair falls over his forehead, messy where he’s been too distracted by his drawing to push it back.

He looks up when you enter, smiling a bruising smile you don’t feel deserving of.

“Hey. Hey, sweetheart.” It’s alarming how quickly he sets aside his book and pencil to reach for you, as if he hadn’t been immersed in his sketching mere seconds ago. “C’mere, I missed you.”

As much as you’d like to be wrapped in his strong arms right now, you’re filthy, and he’s just changed the sheets earlier today.

“I can’t. I’m all dirty, see?” You wiggle your dirt-covered hands at him. You’ve been in the garden all afternoon. Time drifted away from you as you planted a new batch of tomato seeds. By the time you were done, the sun was setting and you hadn’t even realised. Your knees are stained dark brown and you’ve got dirt up to your elbows. “I’ll shower first, then we can cuddle. Sorry, baby.”

Peeta looks decidedly put out. You turn away from him before he can convince you any further, because you know if he looks at you like that for much longer you’ll give in. You pull fresh clothes from your side of the dresser and then move down the hallway to the bathroom.

The showers warming up and you’re starting to undress when Peeta knocks on the door. It’s unlocked, and he doesn’t have to, but he knocks anyway.

“It’s me,” he says. Who else would it be? You think. Silly man. “Can I come in?”

You pull the door open for him instead of answering. You’re halfway out of your clothes but it doesn’t phase him. Sure, he looks, but not for long, and not in a way that would suggest anything other than affection.

“Hey,” he says. He pushes the door closed behind him. The shower runs in the background, a peaceful thrum. “Do you mind if I join you? You can say no.”

You huff a soft laugh. He should know by now that saying no to him is a near impossible feat. “Yeah, of course. I don’t mind.”

You finish undressing quickly, eager to be clean and warm. Peeta leaves to get fresh towels while you hop in under the hot spray. The majority of the dirt on your skin has been rinsed by the time he gets back. You hear him moving around the bathroom for a minute or so before he pulls the shower curtain aside. You let him in, moving aside to make space for him. It’s tight, but it’s not uncomfortable. Weirdly, it’s almost a perfect fit for the two of you.

Peeta moves under the shower head and the water quickly drenches one half of his hair and one of his shoulders. His big hand slides over your hip and he carefully moves you into a position where you’ve both got equal spray.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. He’s so close you could count his freckles, each light brown spot scattered across his collarbones.

“Hello,” you say back. His thumb rubs your hipbone, up down, up down. “Is it too warm?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

You smile and touch your palm to his cheek. “You okay?” You’re not asking because he seems out of sorts. You’re asking because you want to know, and if he’s not he’ll tell you. He does the same for you. It’s just how you love each other.

Peeta nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. How did your gardening go?”

You beam. You love that he cares about what you care about. “Good. We’ll have tomatoes growing out of our ears by summer, I think.”

Peeta laughs. It’s a brilliant sound that bounces off the shower walls and warms your chest. “Awesome,” he grins. Then, “Hey, you’ve got dirt under your ear.” He reaches behind you to grab the flannel hanging on the shower caddy. “Look that way for me?”

He holds you still with a hand at your jaw and rubs the dirt from your skin so gently you barely feel it. His touch is like a magnet — you’re drawn to it over and over again, no matter how generously he gives it to you. When he asks if he can wash your hair, you’d be crazy if you said no.

“Yeah, please,” you tell him, past caring how desperate and needing of his touch and love you are. He knows, anyway.

Peeta turns you by the hips so your back is to him, then gently tilts your head backwards. You hand him your shampoo and he squeezes a dollop onto his hands, rubbing his palms together before spreading the bubbles over the top of your head. He’s very, very gentle with it, much more than you’ve ever been, massaging the soapy, sweet-smelling bubbles into your hair, fingers rubbing circles onto your scalp. His dedicated touch, along with the gentle thrum and warmth of the shower spray, is enough to almost put you to sleep.

“Okay, you can rise now,” Peeta speaks up. His tone is soft and you suspect he’s noticed your sleepiness. He gets very soft with you when you’re tired. “Shut your eyes, please.”

You do as he says and he directs you under the spray. He holds a hand over your forehead like a barrier so the bubbles can’t escape and sneak into your closed eyes. The action in itself makes your chest ache. He cares more than you could ever comprehend.

When he’s done rinsing you finish scrubbing the dirt from your knees, your elbows. Peeta washes his own hair, and you help him rinse the same way he did for you.

“Thank you, angel,” he says. Warm water and soapy bubbles stream over his shoulders, his neck. His eyelashes are wet, clinging to each other in sparkly triangles. He dips down and kisses your shoulder, then your cheek. “Love you.”

You beam. You love him more than anything. You get on your toes to kiss him properly, a warm press of your mouth on his, a promise for more of the same later, when you’re clean and dry and fed. “Love you too, Peeta.”

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

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alucarddear · 1 year ago

Note

Position anon again, would you please write a NSFW alphabet for Alucard? Pretty please? 🥺

Alucard N S F W Alphabet*

I'm personally offended that I haven't done this for Lulu before. Anyway, rather than just spelling out his name, I'll give you the entire alphabet. Heh. This is LONG! Your thoughts and keyboard smashes are welcome. 🤭

P.S. I go explicit and specific; read at your own risk. I also tried my best to keep it as gender-neutral as possible, so this is [Alucard x You]. However, I did have a little self-indulgent fun with W: wild card, the only section with an obvious she/her indication. Just so you know!

A: Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Aftercare is not optional to this dhampir. It's a must. It doesn't matter if you had a quick romp or a long night, he'd still take the time to treat you right, especially if he'd been rather rough with you.

Forehead kisses, soft caresses, helping clean you up—you name it and he's got it covered. It's all about making sure you feel loved, appreciated, and cared for.

Alucard is not one to just up and leave or make you feel used. In fact, it's noticeable how much more he dotes on you after actually using you up good and fucking you raw into next week. 😏

B: Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

Your neck. Let's not even pretend that Alucard doesn't gravitate towards it. As you ride him, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and nips and pecks at your throat. There's a part of him that wants to sink his fangs into you then and there and another that wants nothing more than to whisper sweet nothings against your skin as you throw your head back in bliss.

Alucard likes his hands—the way they're so large against yours; how perfectly your hands feel in his own. He likes his hands gripping your thighs or hips, his hand coming down to slap your ass, his hands caressing every inch of you. The way his hand closes around your wrist, encircling it completely as if it was made to do nothing but. The way he pushes you down with his hand on the small of your back as he prepares to take you from behind. Most of all, all of the things his hands can do to make you cum.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

Alucard's desire to spill his seed inside you is next to nothing sometimes. If you'd let him, he'd bury himself balls-deep and cum inside you each and every time.

He loves to make you cum, loves the way you sound—the hitching of your breath, your begging, the way you can barely keep yourself from shaking as he coaxes yet another orgasm out of you. He loves to praise you for it. "God, you're fucking beautiful," is something you hear often. It just never gets old.

D: Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

Alucard loves when you allow him to bend you over whichever way he pleases. Loves how tiny and pliable you look underneath him, adjusting and propping your arms and legs as he sees fit. Just the sight of you like that, it's enough to push him over the edge.

So, you know he draws you—you are his muse after all. You've seen his sketches. But not the ones of your beautiful, naked body. Not even the tasteful pieces he draws as you sleep. Not the ones where, try as he might, he just can't replicate how utterly divine you look when he fucks you. He's a talented artist, but nothing tops the real thing.

E: Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Is he very experienced? No. Does he know what he's doing? Hell yes. His mother was a doctor and his father is a man of science. He lives in a castle full of resources. He has deep knowledge of biology—he's got the theory down pat. Sure, he fumbled a little the first few times, but he quickly learnt how you like to be pleased.

Besides, being a dhampir, Alucard is in tune with your body's responses to his ministrations. When you're intimate, he can practically feel your heart racing, dear. He knows when you're close, can tell when he's hitting it good, need I say more?

F: Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Mastery. He sits on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the floor to support you sitting on top of him with your legs bent on either side of him, your feet flat on the bed. This position allows you to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss. It lets you start off slow, very intimate—with you grinding against and riding him. Once you're a little tired (or he starts growing impatient), he simply grips your hips and pounds up into you until you're a screaming wreck. His grip on your hips and his feet securely planted on the floor allows him to rut into you fast. And the view? Fucking fantastic. He loves watching you come undone like this, seeing you throw your head back and expose your throat to him. Yes.

For a quick romp, you can't go wrong with doggy style. When you're in his study and you both get a little too distracted? He’ll bend you over his desk and have his way with you.

G: Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, he's very serious about giving both of you a good time, alright. He might do something that makes you giggle, sure, but for the most part it's probably accidental and not his intention. Sex with Alucard can be intimate and sweet or downright animals humping in the undergrowth (👀), no in between. He's not here for the shits and giggles, darling.

H: Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It does match. Maybe not all the time completely bare, but he keeps himself neat and tidy. Do you see his luxurious hair? He takes care of himself down there too.

I: Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Alucard loves to see you and hear you. He's considerate and goes out of his way to find what works for you. So much so he probably has ruined you for anyone else. You'll never find a more receptive lover; it’s time to accept that.

When you make sweet love, he whispers sweet nothings against your skin. He peppers kisses all over you and makes you feel like the most gorgeous being on the planet. He's not afraid to voice his thoughts out loud too, praising you and urging you on.

J: Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

You remember those naughty sketches of you? Yep. He has used them a couple times while you were away. You're in his thoughts whenever he touches himself.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Edging. He not-so-secretly loves it when you beg. How are you to know how much more you can take? He'll just have to show you.

When you moan his name as you grip the sheets and quake beneath him? Yeah. He loves it, especially when you can barely even make out the words for “Adrian, please, please, please.”

When you take control and ride him like your life depends on it, it does something to his brain. You on top, taking control and looking absolutely beautiful as you do so... he could cum just from the thought of it.

There is a part of him that likes the thought of cumming deep inside you and breeding you. Maybe it's that loneliness that sometimes nags at him, maybe he yearns for a family, but he can't lie this feels utterly divine.

L: Location (favourite places to do the do)

The bed is cliche, but it works and is comfortable. Your kitchen counter, desk, against the wall or a tree, table, or out at some secluded clearing by the lake... Alucard is truly not that picky, as long as you're not out in the public for other eyes to see and you’re both comfortable.

M: Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your reactions and enthusiasm. Knowing you're into it just as much as he is.

When you sashay towards him, crooking your finger at him to beckon him closer? He's right there with you in a heartbeat.

When you wear his shirt and it swallows your smaller frame? It turns him on more than he lets on.

When you moan his name and gasp and writhe in pleasure. When you beg for him to take you harder, faster, and deeper. It just about short-circuits his brain.

N: No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Any form of bondage or restrictions to his movement. It brings up unnecessary trauma and makes him feel that he's not in control or safe. He is mostly a switch, sure, letting you take control and dominate too, but tying him up is just a no-go for him.

He won't transform into a wolf. It's practically bestiality, which he's not down for.

Somnophilia or any other act where consent can be dubious. He's just big on consent and trust, for obvious reasons.

O: Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves having absolute control over your pleasure, knowing it's him coaxing the sighs and moans and screams out of you. He enjoys how easily he can make you cum and drive you mad.

That said, he also loves watching you pleasure him, taking as much of his hard length as you can, especially whenever you greedily swallow his load.

P: Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It really depends. Sex can be whatever it needs to be in the moment. While he loves nothing more than to take his time and make sweet love to you, he also loves ravaging you and leaving you utterly spent. It's satisfying either way.

The usual case is he begins slowly and sensually, but by the end of it (and sometimes without warning), he's rutting into you like his life depends on it.

Q: Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn't above having a quickie if that is all time permits, but he would really much rather have his way with you properly!

R: Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Given that he's a dhampir, he knows exactly how to go unseen or unnoticed. It's likely his risk assessment is much more honed. You might think you're being risky, but he is well aware of the chances of you getting caught in the act.

As for experimenting—other than his hard reservations (the ones listed in N), he is game to experiment and try different things you may be curious about as long as you both feel safe and comfortable about them.

S: Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's a dhampir... need I say more? The chances of you exhausting him first is little. Sorry to burst your bubble. 😆 He's got stamina for days, honey.

T: Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Alucard is not above using toys to pleasure you. But what can a toy do that he can't do better? Hah. Chances are he will attempt to learn how it pleases you and try to replicate that with his own cock, mouth, and hands.

U: Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can be such a little tease. You know the way he banters. That snark and sass can sometimes make their way inside the bedroom too.

"What was that, darling?" he'd ask, as if his amazing sense of hearing wasn't enough to register your begging as he edges you for the nth time. "Tsk. Patience, my love..." he would even dare chide you!

Alucard also loves to glide his fangs over your skin, just enough to leave a faint mark but not enough to draw blood.

V: Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not shy to let you know he’s having a good time, but he’s also not overly loud. He gasps, moans, and curses, a tight-lipped “Fuck!” slipping out once in a while.

W: Wild card (a random headcanon)

He loves to praise you. His way of talking dirty is to let you know how good you feel around him. How ethereal you are, how perfect for him, how you taste so sweet.

He encourages you as he pushes you over the limit. “Yes, yes, darling, you can take it. Cum for me,” he would say. He’d place a kiss on your open mouth as you convulse around him as he rips yet another orgasm out of you. “My sweet darling,” he would groan, wiping the sweat off your brow. “How perfect you are. Good girl.” And just like that, he’s about to do it all over again. RIP. 😫

X: X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s active and it shows. He’s well built without being overly bulky. It suits him—muscular/toned yet elegant and lean.

He’s packing a just-about-above average penis, but nothing you cannot handle. The man’s over six foot, it just fits.

Y: Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Alucard is the type to yearn and pine, so set the volume level up cause he cannot get enough of you. Enough said.

Z: Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sometimes you drift off to sleep together, but you usually fall asleep first.

He’s a night owl. He’d take you in his arms and stroke your hair as you sleep, admiring the way you glow under the moonlight, and wonder how he got so lucky to have found you. 🤍🌙

#if you disagree just scroll and let us have fun lmao #I’m not about to have another discourse on this #alucard #castlevania #alucarddear headcanons #adrian tepes #alucard fahrenheit tepes #Alucard x reader

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justpeaxchy · 2 months ago

Text

'Why not me?'

Warnings: Jealousy, a "little" misunderstanding between Hiccup and reader.

A/n: !Fem reader! I recommend reading this as a part two to this short writing I did, but either way it can be read on its own! This was originally intended as a separate work but here we are ig lol.

Hiccup's eyes followed your figure once more, watching as you hauled more wood for another house that was "accidentally" burned down again. The report came rather quickly that the Twins had performed another prank and it somehow led to a "small" devastation, as they called it, on a viking's innocent home. You called for Astrid again, who was managing Stormfly as she carefully placed down the pieces needed for the home to repair it, and gestured to the new pile of wood that lay on the ground. She nodded and went back to her work with a glare sent towards the two twins who merely stood next to the burnt heap, giggling among themselves.

He wouldn't admit it, but Hiccup had been noticing more of Berk starting to flock around you as they had finally seen the two of you spend more time together. It brought a certain emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint. For one, most of them only started talking to you since they recognized you as someone now "close" to the Chief. On the other hand, they only wanted to get closer with you because of your connection. Everyone knew Hiccup on Berk, so he was puzzled - and a tad bit angry - that a good portion of them acted as though you never even existed and he was someone on a higher pedestal because of the position handed down to him.

Of course, on the outside, it looked as though they were treating him as normally as they would've before - with the due respect for a Chief - but Hiccup noticed the slight difference, especially with you. He didn't know if you did though. It bothered him in a way he couldn't vocalize it, unusually so. He had barely begun developing his relationship with you, taking the small steps you needed; the ones he was more than willing to take.

So, when these people decided to come in and sneak their way down the path he treaded with you - it made him upset him in more ways than one. He even heard Snotlout ogle over you at one point. He had heard his fanatics before but, for some strange reason, it brought him to the conclusion of physically pushing him out of the Forge where he was trying to gather his thoughts in peace.

Hiccup fumbled with the charcoal pencil in his hand, trying to drown out the noise around him that was the daily turmoil of vikings. He told himself to stay focused on the sketch someone had wanted for a new saddle before handing it off to Gobber - that was supposed to be the plan. His idea of having himself under control for the day were seemingly forgotten as he managed to steal a swift glance in your direction.

Out of everything, Hiccup Haddock did not expect for himself to act up when someone offered to help take the load of wood out of your arms. Perhaps he would've felt better if it wasn't Eret son of Eret who had willingly taken it out of your arms. Hiccup knew he wasn't losing his eyesight when he had seen Eret's hands lightly brush yours when he took the burden of wood out of your hands. It puzzled the Chief as to why he was even feeling this way.

Hiccup wasn't blind or numb to the fact that Eret, ever since he arrived at Berk, was known for his physique and his striking appearance. As well as being a dragon trapper in the past, of course. Sudden thoughts came to Hiccup's mind as he watched the short interaction between you two, not understanding the emotion that gripped his heart when he had seen your smile to the man who offered you his help. He knew that you were getting used to smiling more - he was the one who told you to try it out more - but he pondered over the question in his head that wouldn't leave him alone: Why did it take you longer to smile at him like that?

As if Hiccup's body moved on its own, he called for Toothless, who had been resting by his side in the Forge, and stomped his way to your direction. You were busy directing Astrid for where she should place the wood on top of the house just in case she missed a spot or didn't put it down correctly. You hadn't expected for a hand to grab yours, with such urgency and yet clothed with a gentle tug, to pull you away from the task you were occupied with. "Hey! What is this-"

Your words were interrupted as you caught Hiccup pulling you closer to his side as he called out for the Twins, "Ruff, Tuff! You're going to be the ones to handle this. It was your doing and the least you could do is tell Astrid where to go from here, okay?" He gave them no time for a proper response, other than the annoyed grumbling that came, as he led you beside Toothless. Confusion clouded your mind as your eyes followed him hauling himself on the night fury and reach out his hand for yours as if telling you to do the same.

"Hiccup, you know I have my own dragon, right-" He swiftly grabbed your hand that was slowly reaching out for his in the middle of your speech as he remained silent, "And I guess that doesn't matter because-" Your startled scream soon took over as Toothless shot into the air without warning, causing you to cling onto Hiccup with all of your strength you could possibly muster. It made you question how he could so easily ride the night fury - being that they were known to be the fastest dragon alive. "H-hey! Where are we going?"

Hiccup lightly patted your hand that was settled on his waist, his gaze not moving from the scenery around him. "Just wait a bit, you'll see." He muttered something to Toothless that you couldn't catch due to the high speeds of wind blowing across your face, making you even more nervous. You trusted Hiccup, of course, but sometimes it was obvious that the 'odd' side of himself could get a little carried away. So, you did the only thing you could do in that moment: hold on as tightly as you could as Toothless dived into a deeper part of the woods.

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

"Ah, so this is where you found him." Your legs shakily wobbled off of the night fury who cooed at your ruffled form. Your hair wasn't as neat as you had it before, making you slightly annoyed before turning to Hiccup. "So.. why bring me here?" You carefully inspected him as he hopped off Toothless, much more better than you had, and nervously swing his arms as he normally did in a situation that left him feeling awkward or anxious.

"Why? Oh, you know - just - wanted to spend some time with you. I mean, do you want to spend time with me? Because you don't have to if-" He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke when he noticed you rolling your eyes at his statement.

"Hiccup, it's too late for me to go back now. You practically dragged me out here on the back of a dragon and I would much rather fly back to Berk than walk." You knew it wasn't a far ways off, but you didn't entirely feel like going all the way back when your legs were recovering from being shot into the air so quickly, "Also, you didn't really give me much of a choice."

You gazed at his hands that seemingly didn't know what do at the moment, hesitating at the thought of grabbing them. "Yeah, I realize that now. That's my fault, sorry." Hiccup muttered out the phrase as if he had been caught doing a scandalous act before stepping closer to you as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I just-" He paused, inhaling as he considered his next words, "I just happen to notice that you've been more.." Another pause; "Occupied with the work load that's been piling up on you recently."

Hiccup inwardly cringed at his reasonings, knowing that it wasn't a good enough excuse as you narrowed your eyes. "Yes? I mean, what do you want me to do? Sit around all day and hope I make some coins by doing nothing?" You sighed and carefully took a step closer to him, the distance between you two slightly bothering you. "I don't want to be like I was before; standing around and barely getting by because of the leftover chores Berk left for me."

Your eyes never left him as he continued to settle on looking at the ground. "Anyway, aren't you the Chief? Shouldn't I be the one saying this to you? I know you've probably got a lot on your shoulders too, not just me." You tried lightening up the mood as Hiccup gently shook his head, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips before it faded once more.

"I know it sounds stupid." He exhaled, as if trying to breathe away the thing that was bothering him, "I'm sorry, but don't you think people should... I don't know.." He shrugged his shoulders, trying to play his next words off casually, "Give you more personal space..?" Hiccup took the risk and glanced up to see your reaction, which wasn't what he expected.

You snorted, then giggled, then covered your mouth as laughter consumed you, watching the way Hiccup's gaze falter slightly as he took in the sight. "What? Personal space?" You tried your best to grasp in what little air you could as your laughter rang throughout the small cove you two were in. "What're you getting at, Hiccup?" A sudden thought came to mind as you smirked, taking another step closer to the Chief; the nervousness that threatened you earlier having been disappeared. "I hope you're not forgetting when I asked for my own personal space when you came and decided to visit me almost every single day."

Hiccup groaned and rubbed his face, as though a headache were arising. "You know it's not like that! That's not what I meant-" He struggled to speak coherently when your small doses of laughter filled his ears. "Do you like the attention or something? I mean, when Eret touched your hand you seemed pretty okay with it to me." The realization of what he said had finally came to Hiccup before he quickly waved his hands, noticing your smile dim away, "Wait! That's not what I meant-"

"Okay, Hiccup. What're you really getting at? You should know me enough that I won't go out of my way to get the attention of people that I wouldn't want to talk to." You huffed, slightly hurt at the idea that crossed Hiccup's mind. "And I didn't ask for Eret to help me, he was just kind enough to take that load of wood from me - which was very heavy by the way." You crossed your arms, stubbornly taking a step away from him as he decided to take two more steps closer.

"I'm sorry, that was my fault - again - but I didn't mean it in that way. I know that is the complete opposite of who you are, but I-" Hiccup sighed, forcing himself to see what was actually wrong with him. "I think I'm not used to all of these people coming in and talking with you and working with you like they've been friends with you since birth. I guess I got used to-"

Hiccup managed to catch himself before uttering anything else, causing you to questioningly narrow your eyes at him. "Got used to what, Chief?" You held back another burst of laughter at the flustered state of the man before you, watching with intent eyes every gesture he made with his hands.

"N-nevermind. How about we go back and I'll let you work in peace and I won't bother you about it anymore." He reached out for your arm as he began to pull you towards Toothless. "C'mon, here we go-" Hiccup winced as you suddenly maneuvered his hand off your arm with a twist, causing him to let go of your arm as he spun around. "Why would you do that?"

You grinned, the atmosphere from earlier forgotten as you dusted yourself off from imaginary dirt. "Tell me what you were going to say." When he tried to escape the situation with more rambling you cracked your fingers, intimidatingly stepping forward, "Say it."

Hiccup kicked the ground like a toddler as he shook his head. "You're so stubborn.." He barely managed to see your hand getting closer to his ear as you threatened to pinch them before he stepped to the side, potentially saving himself from even more pain. "Alright, alright! Just don't get the ears!" He protectively covered the sides of his face as you triumphantly grinned, awaiting his answer.

"Look, I guess I got used to.." He found himself looking at the ground once more as he spoke. "Having you more to myself." He purposefully mumbled the last bit of his speech, hoping he could somehow get away with it. Much to his despair, however, you still listened to every word.

He heard your footsteps approaching to where he stood and he glanced up to see a delicate smile taking over your features before your hand reached out for his. You held it as if you were handling a precious piece of glass, carefully lifting it away from his side. "Is that really what you think?" Your eyes held a sincerity to them that Hiccup couldn't ignore, making his heart beat slightly faster than before.

When all he could do was nod, you finally took it upon yourself to be the one to hug him first - which you gladly did the moment he gave you his answer. You found yourself smiling into his shoulder as he stood still in his spot for a moment. "Hiccup, just know I'll never be able to look at them in the way I view you. They can't replace what you did, no matter how hard they might try."

When you felt his arms embrace you in return, you couldn't help but let the smile on your face continue to grow as he sighed, his breath fanning your neck in - what sounded like - relief. "Are you upset with me?"

"Not anymore. Maybe if you gave me a kiss I'd be over the moon. But, hey, that's just me." You chuckled when you heard nothing but silence come from him, assuming he was too much in a flustered state to respond.

You squeezed him one final time before letting him go. The weight of your words hadn't settled in until you stepped away from him, causing you to fumble with your hair. "So, we should - probably - uhm, head back -"

Hiccup, noticing your actions, nodded once more before swiftly taking your hand in his as he lead you both back to Toothless. You told yourself not to be consumed with the fluttering of your heart by his simple move, but it became much more of a challenge when he stopped in front of his dragon to face you.

"One more thing before we go." Hiccup pulled you closer to him by your hand he had grabbed, officially closing any remaining distance between you both as his lips met yours. You didn't expect it, which caused you to nearly trip on your own feet before his other arm caught you, still engaged in the kiss as though it had never happened. If you weren't imagining things, you could've sworn you felt him smile in the midst of it all.

You were breathless as he, unfortunately, pulled away from you, gazing intently at your flustered form before guiding you onto Toothless. "So, you're definitely not angry now, right?"

You rolled your eyes as Hiccup readied himself on Toothless, glancing back at you for an answer. "I already said I wasn't..." You folded your arms, making yourself now look like the toddler as he snickered and turned forward.

"Well, you might want to hang on." He gleefully muttered something to Toothless as you stubbornly held your position, which was not hanging onto him at all. When he came to the conclusion that you were rather grumpily not obliging to him, he tapped his dragon to silently tell him to leave.

It was only when Toothless had darted up in the air that you screamed and tightly held onto Hiccup for your dear life, which he quite enjoyed.

#hiccup haddock #hiccup how to train your dragon #hiccup x reader #how to train your dragon #httyd #httyd hiccup #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #hiccup httyd #httyd rtte #how to train a dragon 2 #x reader #how to train you dragon: the hidden world

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snowsinterlude · 11 months ago

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favorite muse. (muse coriolanus x artist reader)

summary: coriolanus was and have always been your muse. you were his favorite artist, and he'd gladly pose naked for you if that is what you want.

c.w: artist reader x muse boyfriend coriolanus, nudism, fluff, modern au, drabble (?), short au, soft, just a inner monologue i had with myself that i decided to pass to here, nothing sexual.

you loved him.

the boy seating right in front your canvas was your muse. the reason to your sudden will to draw, something you had stopped doing years ago.

it was just a hobby, after all.

however, now it was much more, you loved him. you loved drawing him, getting every detail right, from his loose curls to his lashes and the shading of the ambient, you made sure to pass it down on every painting how much you loved him.

you always seemed happier when drawing him. it didn't matter if your back ached and killed you because of the awful position you choose to draw him, you loved him. you memorized every frame, every scar, every birthmark.

you met him at the art academy, he was doing a favor to the teacher and had to pose naked for the class, of course, jot entirely naked, more like covered in a white silk fabric like he was a greek god.

and fuck, he looked so pretty, you were the last one to finish it, everybody on the class was gone and you were still drawing him, glancing over your canvas as you drew him, as you put in detail everything that your eyes could get.

your wrist, your back and your shoulders could feel painfully terrible on you, it didn't matter, you were almost done with your painting, what was supposed to be a sketch was, now, a complete painting of him despicted as a greek god.

"fuck, you did all of this in the last two hours?" a voice behind you asked, making you jump and scream in surprise, the pencil on your hand meeting the bastard's face with green paint and

fuck. it was him.

"oh my god i'm so sorry! i'm sorry, i didn't- i thought you were still sitting there-" you said, trying to desperately brush off the paint on his cheek. he laughed at your despair.

"it's fine. i'm the one to put at fault for scaring you like that. at least the paint didn't get on your painting" he said, looking over your shoulder, closely to the painting. it was beautiful. he was beautiful. he could tell it was him by the dozens of birthmarks you captured on his body, his face looking down at a lake while he sat on a greek ionic column. "you're so good at painting. i'm glad i was a muse to you."

his words seemed to woke you up, you looked at him with a desperate twinkle on your eyes, holding the brush tightly.

"can you... can you keep being my muse?" you asked, to his surprise. and to your surprise, he accepted gladly.

so now, seven months ahead from that moment, your boyfriend was sitting across your seat, posing naked to you.

"darling," you called, looking at him with a smile on your lips. there was paint on your cheek, a bit on your nose and a lot on your arms. "i've finished it."

your announcement seemed to make him wake up, looking at you with those bright blue eyes as he walked to you, wrapping the towel around his waist.

however, he didnt even look at you, too preoccupied with kissing you than to look at the painting.

"wait- don't you wanna see it?" you asked while he took you on his lap, hands on your thighs as he kisssed your neck.

"i don't need to see it, i know what you're capable of, darling. i'm sure it's as beautiful as all the others you did, but it's never gonna be prettier than you." he said, sweetly, and you melted away on his kisses and honeyed up words, giving in to his kisses as he took you to your room, his hands brushing on your cheek and smearing off the paint.

ah. you loved him too much.

#tbosas x reader #young president snow #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #soft fic #fluff #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus soft #x you #x reader #coriolanus x you

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wholoveseggs · 1 year ago

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~♡~Dating the Mikaelsons~♡~

One-Shot Edition

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

♡A date with Klaus♡

After a long day at work, you just want to go home and relax. Fortunately Klaus knows exactly what you need to unwind.

In celebration of getting to one-hundred followers♡ I wrote some smutty one-shots based on my dating the mikaelsons headcanons.

♡ Thanks for all the love and support ♡

Warnings: smut, rough sex, biting, blowjobs, rim jobs, all the jobs...I firmly believe Klaus loves booty.

{Part Two -Kol} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}

After an exceedingly long day, exhaustion had fully seeped into your bones, leaving you feeling burdened and emotionally numb. Exiting your workplace, you headed towards your car, desperate to get home and relax. Rifling through your bag for your keys, you extracted them along with a neatly folded piece of paper.

Intrigued, you unfolded it, revealing a charming sketch of your profile gazing out of a café window. The guy you were seeing must have snuck it into your bag. You smiled, the thoughtfulness of it warming your heart. You pulled out your phone, sending him a thank-you text.

You

"I found your drawing, thank you. I've had a tough day, and this made it a bit better."

Nik

"Which one?"

You paused. There had been multiple drawings? You hadn't seen anything else in your bag. You typed back a quick reply.

You

"There was more than one?"

Nik

"Maybe..."

You unlocked your car, climbing into the seat, closing the door behind you, and pulling your bag onto your lap.

Sure enough, there were several more folded pieces of paper. You pulled them all out and unfolded them. The first was an intricate study of the hands of a man and woman, fingers laced together, palms touching. The second was a silly doodle of you, looking grumpy and flipping off the viewer.

You giggled. It was actually a great likeness. The next one made you blush and look around. It was an illustration of the two of you, nude, kissing in an intimate position. Your face was obscured by his, but the details were quite erotic.

Your body flushed at the thought of him touching you; you hadn't even kissed yet, let alone seen each other naked.

You

"I found the other ones, very creative,"

Nik

"I'm glad you like them, are you busy tonight?"

You paused. What did he want to do? You had planned on vegging out and watching some mindless television. But that sounded incredibly dull.

You

"No, why?"

Nik

"Good. I'll pick you up,"

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat, feeling the butterflies in your stomach start to flutter. You had a feeling you were going to be staying up late.

You had no idea where he was taking you; Klaus hadn’t given you any hints, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he had planned.

You were sitting in the car with him, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. It was a beautiful evening, the sky painted a brilliant hue of purple and blue.

You glanced over at him, admiring how attractive he was. You knew that he was a vampire, a powerful one at that, but you didn't mind. You had known others, and none of them were dangerous. At least not to you.

"I thought we could take a walk; I want to show you some of my favorite places," he said as he drove.

"I would love to see them," you replied, smiling at him.

He parked the car, and the two of you climbed out, making your way down the street. It was a clear night, the air crisp and refreshing, and you could hear the sounds of traffic and the chatter of people from a distance.

Klaus walked close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours every few steps. His presence was soothing, and you felt comfortable with him. He casually took your hand in his, lacing his fingers with yours.

You looked up at him and smiled. He returned the smile, squeezing your hand.

"This is the park I like to draw in," he explained. "It's quiet, and the light is beautiful in the morning."

The two of you walked, talking and enjoying the view. He seemed to know a lot about the city and pointed out different buildings, sharing stories from his past.

You found yourself growing more and more attracted to him, the more he shared about himself.

"What was it like here, one hundred years ago?" you asked.

"It was different, but not that much. There were fewer people, and the buildings weren't as tall. It was quieter, I suppose."

You nodded, enjoying the sound of his voice. You loved hearing him talk; his accent was so alluring. You walked in silence for a while, and then he led you over to a bench, and the two of you sat.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he asked.

"Of course." you replied, giving him a gentle smile.

"I love this city; I helped make it what it is, but as time passes, sometimes I feel like I'm a stranger here."

You nodded, understanding, "You must see time so differently from me," you mused. "I can't imagine how it must feel."

He was silent for a moment, his eyes staring out into the darkness.

"It can be lonely," he said, finally. "But with you, I don't feel that way."

You intertwined your fingers with his, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. He leaned in, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. His touch sent a shiver through you, and you found yourself wanting him.

You leaned forward, capturing his lips with yours. He kissed you softly, his lips warm and inviting. You felt his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him. His hands wandered, caressing your back, and tangling in your hair.

You broke the kiss, looking into his pretty blue eyes, "Do you want to show me your place?" you asked, your voice a breathy whisper.

His eyes flashed, a smirk spreading across his face, "It would be my pleasure."

He took your hand, leading you back to the car. The drive to his place was filled with a heavy silence, both of you knowing what was about to happen.

You had seen the outside of the compound many times, but you had never been inside before; it was gorgeous, the décor was expensive and tasteful.

"Wow, your home is beautiful," you remarked, your heels clicking against the floor.

"Thank you," he said, smirking. "I decorated it myself."

The compound was quiet; everyone else was out or asleep. You followed him into his room, your heart racing.

He closed the door, turning to face you. He reached out, cupping your cheek. His touch was gentle and loving, his eyes filled with tenderness.

"You are so lovely," he murmured, his thumb stroking your skin.

You blushed, the heat rising in your cheeks. You placed your hands on his chest, running them up to his shoulders, feeling his muscles beneath his shirt.

You stepped closer, closing the distance between you. Your lips brushed against his, and you kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You pressed your body against his, feeling his hardness.

He pulled away, his eyes flashing yellow. He picked you up, carrying you over to the bed, laying you down gently. He climbed on top of you, his mouth trailing kisses along your neck and collarbone.

He lifted the dress off of you, tossing it aside. You laid there in nothing but your underwear, his gaze raking over your body.

"Nik," you breathed, your voice full of need.

He leaned down, his mouth on your breast, his tongue swirling over your nipple. You moaned, arching your back. You gasped, feeling his fingers sliding down your abdomen, and under the waistband of your panties.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered, his hands caressing your skin.

"So have I," you replied, lifting your head and pressing your lips to his.

His fingers circled your clit, eliciting moans from your lips. You closed your eyes, his touch was quickly driving you crazy, pushing you to the edge. He watched your face, a wicked grin on his lips.

"How do you like it, love?" he whispered, his voice low and seductive as his lips grazed your skin.

You blushed, heat pooling between your legs. "I like it a little rough," you breathed, the words tumbling out of your mouth.

"I always suspected you were a naughty girl," he whispered, as he nibbled at your ear. You gasped, pleasure coursing through you.

He began to move down your body, leaving a trail of soft bites and kisses. He paused at your breasts, sucking on your nipples, his tongue swirling around them. You moaned, squirming beneath him.

He continued down, his teeth grazing your skin. He hooked a finger under your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. You were completely exposed to him now, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Just beautiful," he breathed, as he dragged his teeth along your inner thigh.

He moved lower, kissing and licking your stomach. His hand slipped between your legs, his thumb grazing your clit.

"Nik," you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as he moved further down.

He removed his hand, his tongue taking its place. He licked and sucked on your clit, his hands pushed your thighs up, giving him more room. You bucked your hips, grinding against his mouth.

He chucked, the vibrations causing a wave of pleasure to course through you. He pushed his tongue inside of you, moving it in and out, his nose grazing your clit.

You moaned, your hands tangling in his curly hair. "Fuck," you breathed, as his tongue drove you closer and closer to the edge.

His tongue moved lower than you expected, teasing your ass. Your eyes widened, a thrill of strange pleasure running through you, your hips jumped and you instinctively tried to push away from him.

"Mmm, love," he whispered, "you like when I do that, don’t you?"

You blushed, heat rising in your cheeks. You nodded, biting your lip.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you whimpered, your head falling back against the pillow.

He returned his tongue to your ass, teasing and probing it, sending sparks of pleasure through you. Pressing his thumb firmly against your clit, Klaus maintained a rhythm that matched the dance of his tongue. Circles and teasing strokes sent waves of pleasure through you, the combination of sensations leaving you breathless, gripping the sheets as you trembled underneath him. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he pushed his tongue in your ass just as he lightly pinched your clit and you cried out, your whole body shaking from the force of your orgasm.

You were spent and panting, gripping Klaus’s hair so hard you nearly tore it out. He chuckled and buried his face deeper in your ass, groaning in pleasure. He swirled his fingers around your clit, feeling how wet you were before he pushed two fingers inside your pussy, hitting your sweet spot.

"Fuck!" you moaned, unable to believe how good it felt. He smiled and continued his assault, pumping his fingers in and out while keeping his mouth busy. His grip on you was almost painful as he held your hips in place, burying his face between your cheeks, his tongue deep inside you.

The soft, wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of your pussy mingled with his labored breathing. He pushed them in deeper, fucking you harder, each thrust making you moan uncontrollably. You were in a state of pure ecstasy, your whole body tingling, every inch of you vibrating with pleasure. You could feel his groans and grunts reverberating through you, and you pushed against him, desperate for more.

The pressure built inside you until you felt like you were about to explode. You pulled on his hair, pushing back against him with everything you had as you reached your climax. Your whole body trembled as you came, your orgasm washing over you in waves of pure bliss. The sound of his groans as he devoured you filled the room, adding to your ecstasy.

You slumped against the bed, a trembling wreck. Klaus withdrew, leaving you feeling empty, but sated. He wiped his mouth and chin and grinned, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. He kissed his way back up your body, his hands caressing your skin.

"No one's ever done that for you before?" he asked, his eyes dark with desire.

You shook your head, blushing.

"Good," he replied, he hovered over you, giving you a mischievous grin. Your fingers trailed down his chest then towards his stomach, tugging at his shirt. He lifted his arms, allowing you to remove it. Your hands explored his body, fingers tracing over his muscles, committing him to memory. He smiled, enjoying your touch as you placed soft kisses on his chest, looking up into his eyes.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours. His kisses were hungry and desperate, his hands squeezing your curves. You grasped at his belt, unbuckling it, and pulling it off. You reached into his pants, wrapping your hand around his cock, smirking as he lets out a low moan. You began to stroke him, feeling him grow harder, maintaining eye contact as you watched him groan with pleasure.

"Love," he panted, his voice thick with arousal.

"Can I taste you?" you ask, your breath ghosting over him. He nods in response, his hips bucking as you continue to stroke him.

He moved on to his back, keeping his eyes fixed on you as you lay kisses down his neck and chest, the feeling of your warm lips making him pant. Your hand never left his cock, never once slowing, and he watched as you used your other hand to gently pinch his nipple, making him hiss out a breath, his teeth clamping together. You felt empowered as you watched him melt under your touch, the big bad hybrid brought to his knees with just your hands. You trailed your tongue from his chest, lower, and lower, not even trying to hide how much you were enjoying his responses.

You finally reached his cock, settling yourself between his legs and looking up at him with innocent, doe eyes. You smirked, holding his gaze as you gripped his cock and slid the head between your parted lips, swirling your tongue around his tip, eliciting a deep guttural groan from him. You lowered yourself down on his throbbing length, taking as much of him as you could handle. Then you slowly pulled off, his cock wet with your saliva, and he moaned, his hands fisting the sheets.

"Do you like that, Nik?" You asked in your most innocent tone. Giving the head of his cock kitten licks as you watched his face.

"Yes," he moaned, his hips jerking. You plunged him into your mouth again, and took him deeper than before. He moaned and thrust his hips up as you worked him with your mouth, his hand coming to tangle in your hair, guiding you. You teased him with your tongue, licking and flicking it over the veins, taking him deep into your mouth and then pulling off with a pop.

"What about this?" You asked, teasing him some more, relishing in the power you had over him. You felt a surge of heat and wetness pool between your thighs, anticipating what he was going to do to you if you pushed him too far.

He growled in frustration and grabbed your hair roughly, pushing your head down on his cock, holding you in place as he thrusted into your mouth. You reached between his legs, stroking his balls, and he groaned, his grip on your hair tightening.

You continued to bob up and down on his cock, loving the way his hips jerked as he got closer and closer to his orgasm. You could feel his balls tighten, and you knew he was about to come.

You pushed your head all the way down, your nose pressing into his pelvis, you let out a soft hum, pushing him over the edge. He let out a low groan as he came, his cum spilling down your throat, you swallowed every last drop.

He released his grip, and you pulled off his cock, gasping for air. You held out your tongue to him, showing him you swallowed it all, and he let out a low, primal growl, snatching you by your hair and crashing his lips against yours. You breathed heavily, your heart pounding as you kissed him back, feeling the stubble scratch at your chin.

His hands slid down to your waist, his fingers digging into your hips and suddenly you were across the room, pressed against the wall, you let out a shocked gasp, clinging to his shoulders. He gripped the backs of your thighs and hiked your legs around his waist, using one hand to tease his cock up and down your entrance.

"Nik," you whispered, your voice full of surprise and desire.

"Have you ever been bitten?" He asked, you could feel his warm breath against your neck.

"No, I've never been with a vampire before," you replied breathlessly, gazing at him from under your eyelashes. You felt a rush of excitement and your legs started to tremble.

He raised one eyebrow and a sexy, playful grin formed on his lips. "I'm a hybrid, love, far superior," he teased, kissing your neck softly, then tracing your jugular with his tongue.

You moaned, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you still as he scraped his fangs over your skin. He slowly pushed himself into you, and you threw your head back, moaning as his thick, hard cock stretched you open.

"Fuck," you moaned, as his lips captured yours. He kissed you with such ferocity, sucking on your bottom lip, it was almost violent, and you loved it. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging on it, feeling him groan into the kiss, causing his thrusts to speed up and intensify. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, urging him on. You bit your lip to suppress your moan, knowing someone could be in the compound.

"Don't be shy, sweetheart," he teased, his pretty accent giving you goosebumps as he continued thrusting into you, "It's just us. I want to hear you."

You flushed and tried to stay quiet, but the things he was doing to you had you moaning, crying out, and begging for more. You buried your face in his neck, biting down on his shoulder, the pleasure overwhelming you.

"Fuck, yes, bite me, love," he encouraged, his hips snapping into yours.

You obeyed, biting down harder, hoping to leave a mark. You gasped, your jaw going slack as his fucked you senseless against the wall. Your head was swimming, and all you could focus on was the feel of his cock buried inside you, and the iron grip he had on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin so hard you knew they would leave bruises.

He pounded into you, his lips finding yours, swallowing your moans. He broke the kiss, his voice hoarse, "So pretty and all mine," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours, full of adoration.

"Nik," you breathed, his name sounding like a prayer on your lips.

He moved a hand up, wrapping it around your throat, gently squeezing, restricting your breathing. You moaned, a shot of adrenaline mixed with pleasure coursing through you. He increased his pace, and you knew he was close, his cock swelling, his pace becoming erratic.

"Are you gonna come for me, love?" he whispered, fucking you harder.

You couldn't answer, his grip on your throat was too tight, but he growled, sensing your closeness. He ground his pelvis into your clit, sending you over the edge. Your whole body was trembling as you came, pulsating around him, he growled, sinking his fangs into your neck, the sharp pain only adding to the intensity of the orgasm.

You felt the blood rush out of your neck, the orgasm ripping through you in waves, his hips never slowed, still fucking you hard, his cock throbbing as he continued to drink your blood. You cried out as his thrusts became frantic, his pace inhumanly fast and you knew he was about to come. As your orgasm started to ebb, you felt his cock pulse, and his release spilled inside of you.

He retracted his fangs, pressing his lips to the wounds and began to place soft kisses along your neck, his hips jerking as he rode out the last of his climax. You clung to him, your whole body throbbing as your orgasm finally began to subside, and you felt weak, your strength gone. He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, panting heavily.

"Bloody hell," he said between breaths, giving you a wild smile as he kissed you. His hand moved to the side of your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently. You sighed, closing your eyes, feeling his weight on top of you.

"That was incredible, love," he whispered, placing kisses on your jawline. You lay there, panting, enjoying the post-orgasmic glow, letting his lips wander.

"Enjoy yourself?" he teased, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms, your head resting on his chest.

"Very much," you replied, turning your head to kiss him.

"Good, because we're not finished yet."

You giggled. "We aren't?"

"Not even close, love."

{Part Two -Kol} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}

Authors Note: I find calling him Nik really hot... anyone else?

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retroaria · 3 months ago

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₊˚⊹☆ SKETCH ₊˚⊹☆

a/n: i’m an artist!bachira truther, you can’t tell me he wouldn’t love art and make some of the coolest stuff in another life. lowkey not proofread but i think it’s ok !!

bachira meguru x reader fluff | BLUE LOCK M.LIST | enjoy 🐥

From the corner of your eye you could see him bursting in and out of sudden movement. when he wasn’t scratching away in his sketchbook, you could feel his eyes on you, focused. any time you did catch a glance he’d ignore your gaze, study you for a moment, then go back to the sketchbook. you’ve been in this position before, forced to be a stoic mannequin for your boyfriends candid sketches of you. if it weren’t for the essay you so desperately needed to finish, you’d ask him about the drawing, but even just speaking a word to him might trigger the pent up energy you know he’s been hiding.

when bachira came over today he promised he wouldn’t bother you until you had finished all your work. all he wanted was your company, so you let him lay on your bed while you sat at your desk and typed away.

it wasn’t his fault for how distracted you were by him. he kept his promise, he hasn’t said a word since you started working and he’s even made sure his movements on the bed were slow and quiet as not to disturb you. his decision to draw you right now was innocent, but he was unknowingly peeking your interests away from your computer screen. without much effort to deny your urges, you caved.

“hey megs, are you drawing me?” you had now turned to face him in your chair, locking eyes with him as your words broke his focus. you could see those yellow irises light up at the sound of your voice, you momentarily regretted it until you saw the warm smile that spread across his face.

“yeah i am! mmm wanna see? it’s not done yet but…” he shifted in the bed, reaching his arm out to pass you his sketchbook. you accepted and took the book out of his hands, brushing some eraser shavings off the opened page, shavings you were sure covered your bed right now. that shred of annoyance disappeared as you saw the drawing he had started of you.

little detail was dedicated to your desk and office chair, he did make sure to draw the subtle decorations that garnished that corner of your room. there were scribbles on the computer screen and a stack of textbooks on the desk, he lazily outlined the little figures you had on the desk. more and more detail started merging into the piece where your hands met your keyboard. there they were, typing away, the bracelets on your wrist, the rings on your fingers, all of it was there. your arms were presented in a sluggish position, your shoulders dropped and your head cocked to the side.

your body was the center of the piece, everything down to the dangly earrings that poked through your strands of hair was there on the page. the cute design of your pajama pants, the way your hoodie (his hoodie) bunched up around your arms and waist loosely. he gave lots of attention to your hair, even sketching out the places where the light reflected off of it, making it look shiny and soft. he was looking at mainly your side profile, so he couldn’t get much of your face into frame, but he did make sure to draw your delicate lashes, the subtle reflection of light that glistened in your eye, and the gentle pout of your lips. whenever he drew people he’d put little swirls on their noses, “noses are so cute! they’re like little buttons!” he’d say.

the drawing wasn’t finished, as he had said, but it already made you’re heart flutter in awe. no matter how many times bachira drew you, each one felt special. you knew that if you continued to flip through the pages of his sketchbook you’d find yourself in various situations, sleeping with the morning light casted on your frame, sitting on a park bench with a book in your hand, looking in the mirror mindlessly as you did your hair. and you knew these drawings of you were just for him, just because he wanted to draw you and have a moment of you in all your candid glory tucked away in his sketchbook.

“it’s coming out really well! i like it a lot, thank you.” you said warmly, offering the sketchbook back to him with a smile on your face. he grabbed it and shifted back into position to immediately start working on it again without saying a word. you sat there and watched as his pencil returned to the paper and he his eyes looked up at you once again, ignoring your gaze, and taking in the details of your position.

“you’re really cute you know, when you’re all focused. your tongues peeking out a bit.” you turned back to face the computer, trying your best to recreate the position he was previously drawing you in.

“is this a test or something?” he whined at you. you looked over at him, raising an eyebrow at his question. “you’re making it really hard to sit here quietly, i feel like i’m gonna explode. stop calling me cute and finish your stupid essay” he said, a grumpy look on his face that you couldn’t help but find adorable. you giggled softly at his expression, you hadn’t realized that you were distracting him from desperately trying not to distract you. it dawned upon you how antsy he probably was.

“i’m sorry megs, let’s both get back to work” you cracked your knuckles and returned your gaze to the computer screen. his eyes piercing through you every so often still made it hard to focus on the essay. you haphazardly went to finish up your essay, deciding it was more important to stay still so he could continue his doting illustrations of you.

divider - @enchanthings

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koolades-world · 10 months ago

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Hey there! I'd Like to request something. So like, MC is an Artist (Style doesn't matter they just have to draw humanoid things) and then they draw the brothers+dateables in their style, what would the reaction be?

hello! sure thing :)

I myself am admittedly not a very good artist, which is my my preferred art form is writing. the only time I draw is usually during gartic phone games with friends, and thanks to my franticness under a time limit it's always very chaotic. but at this point I've just embraced it and it's always funny

enjoy!

Artist Mc

Lucifer

you draw him while he's seated at the dinner table on a saturday morning while he's reading the newspaper and enjoying a coffee

not that you didn't intend to show him, but suddenly he was leaning over your shoulder, staring, and it caught you off guard

as you scramble to explain, he just smiles and sits back down in his chair and goes back to what he was doing to keep being you model

once you're done, he asks if he can at least have a copy to keep, which in itself is a huge compliment, but it's so he can think of you every time he looks at it 🥺

Mammon

during class, he happened to look super cute as always while looking wistfully out a nearby window a few rows in front of you and the lesson was getting boring anyways. next to your notes, you begin to doodle him, using highlighters for color

you forget it's there and lend him that very notebook since he had tuned out that same lesson

once he opens it, he seems himself and doesn't know how to react. he's a babbling, red mess

once he regains motor functions, he shakily declares that it's very becoming of the Great Mammon and that you did a great job. success!

Levi

the two of you are hanging out in his room. he's playing a ruri game and you're lounging behind him, sketching on a bean bag

you're not drawing anything in particular and were searching for an idea when suddenly, the idea found you

levi wasn't paying attention to you, so you could easily look at him and ruri, and sketch them side by side in matching outfits

once he stops for a moment to get a snack, you happily show him the drawing and he does the demon equivalent of blue screening. give him a minute to reboot then try again haha

Satan

when you decided to draw him, the two of you were seating together, with you in his lap while he read a book so he saw the drawing from it's first line to it's last

made positive comments about it the entire time, like about how you captured the green of his eyes perfectly, or telling you his hair looked better in the picture than it did in real life

at some point, he stopped pretending to read the book and sat watching you with his chin on your shoulder

he added cute little notes around it once you were done with little hearts around them

Asmo

he's asked you to draw him jokingly a few times, but never expected you to actually do it the next time he asked

when you tell him if he wants, he can pick something else to wear, he almost strips down so you can draw him nude but you stop him as soon as he started to take his shirt off

he scurried away and was back quickly in a new outfit, and posed how he would for a picture

talks to you basically the entire time you draw, and once you're done, he squeezes you into a tight hug and asks if he can post it on his Devilgram

Beel

after joining him enough times for Fangol practice, you knew it well enough to begin making sketches of him as he practiced

drawing him in action was a little challenging since he never held still, but you were determined

you drew a few since his practice went on longer that day, and got to proudly show him the results

he was equally as proud of you since he thought you did a great job. he asks if he can have one, and if you give it to him, you'll find it hanging up next to his bed next to all his Fangol trophies <3

Belphie

he's an easy model to draw thanks to his lethargy, so you often find yourself sketching him

something about his peaceful nature and natural frosted tips was just so drawable, so you had at least a few pages full of him napping in various positions with different blankets

one time, he wakes up while you're next to him drawing, and is a little shocked in a good way. he didn't know you viewed him that highly

he's still half asleep, so he just compliments your artwork and moves to lay his head on your lap, then falls back asleep, ensuring you're the flustered one now

#obey me #obey me!#obey me satan #obey me x reader #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me belphie #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #headcanons #gn reader

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kookslastbutton · 1 year ago

Text

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) || ch.I

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,187

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), flirty banter, fighting, jk has a bit of a temper, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, Heaven+

A/N: Okay I have been having such baby fever for last few years no joke. I wanna be mom or aunty but my sister won’t have kids yet! So i write this lame series to cope even though it's lowkey sad? lmao. Enjoy!! 🥰

༓ ch. II >> | series masterlist

You’re not exactly sure when it happened but one minute you’re crouched over, sketching in your journal and the next, a child with big brown eyes comes up beside you to watch over your shoulder. He’s a cute little fella, you note. Can't be more than four years old. His hair is ink-black and on the longer side. He’s got on a pair of black and white checkered pants, navy blue sweatshirt, and a toy snug under one arm. At first glance, you struggle to make out the toy but it looks like an elephant.

“Hi…” His hand reaches for you. It tugs the edge of your dress sleeve before reaching down to latch onto a few fingers. You smile up at the child, warmth immediately beaming through your heart.

“Hi sweetheart,” you say. “What’s your name?” You wait for the boy to answer but he doesn’t. Instead, he shuffles down next to you on the grass and points to your drawing. His delicate eyebrows knit together in an inquisitive manner. “What is this?” he asks.

You look down at your drawing, examining it from various angles. It's unfinished but you're working on a sketch of the pond nearby. You've managed to capture the sun-kissed water but the sky needs more work. Being the weekend, you couldn't give up the rare opportunity to indulge in your favorite hobby. “It’s the pond with all the colorful leaves,” you reply.

Blank face, the child thinks before speaking again. “Who taught you?”

Now that's an interesting question. Drawing had always been in your blood since a child. You fell in love with the ability to let your imagination run wild on paper whether it be on the back of your homework or even cardboard. To you, drawing was freedom and discovery. It allowed you to express emotion, memories, abstract thoughts, and to recreate the real world. You typically preferred sketching with drawing pencils but occasionally dabbled with watercolors. You had a gift for it–a natural gift.

By the time high school rolled around, you tended to hole up in the art room, sketching for as long as you could. Your art teacher suggested you go to school for it come senior year which gave you enough push to bring it up to your parents. Determined, you spoke to your parents about it but it was null–art could only be a hobby, it couldn’t support your future. They suggested you go to school for economics or finance instead. You nearly hurled at the idea but you eventually agreed, knowing they’d never pay for you to go to art school. Drawing, as you found out, had to be on the side.

"I had a teacher once in school," you say. "But I mostly learned myself."

The child tilts his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face. “You?”, he says.

You nod your head in affirmation.

“No way! Even I have art teacher.”

You chuckle lightly and move to stand up from the grass, needing to stretch due to your crouched position. He follows suit, still clinging to your hand. “Where you going, Eomma?”

Eomma...That's a name you don't get called often. You're not used to being seen as the mom type. In fact, when you tied the knot with Jungkook, the two of you agreed that having a family was a grey area. You both liked kids, sure, but being parents? That was a subject neither of you seriously considered. “I’m sorry sweetheart,” you coo. “I’m not your Eomma. But, let’s find her together, okay?”

The child shakes his head, refusing to budge. "Mm no," he says, clinging to your leg. "Wanna stay with you." Your heart skips a beat. Children don't typically take to you like this. It causes something inside of you to want to lunge down and pick up the child in a tight embrace. But you nip that thought in the bud when you catch sight of a woman roughly your age jogging toward you. She looks like the child’s mother.

“Si-woo!” She gives a wave. "Si-woo come here!"

“Eomma!” The child’s cheeks rise into a big grin as he watches his mom approach nearer. He lets go of your leg but his hand remains locked in your own. You end up squeezing Si-woo’s tiny hand but then, like a bitter aftertaste, you remember– he doesn’t belong to you. You loosen your grip and allow him to run back to his mom.

“It was nice meeting you Si-woo!” There’s a hint of sadness in your tone but you do your best to brush it off. You only knew Si-woo for a short while and now he’s back with his real mom. You should be happy but when Si-woo’s mom lifts her son, she gives you a scowl. She doesn’t even come up to say anything to you but turns around and carries her son back to their picnic area. You frown realizing you were merely a stranger who little kids are told not to talk to.

You sigh and glance at your unfinished drawing. Suddenly, you don’t feel like drawing anymore. You pack up your belongings in your bag and head to your car, the event replaying in your mind.

You can’t blame Si-woo’s mom for being a little rigid, you think. You’d share a similar reaction with your own kids if you had any–if you had any. You repeat the phrase unexpectedly. Were you warming up to the idea? Your marriage did recently surpass the two-year mark, perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to consider having…no, you mentally stop yourself. Yes, Si-woo was cute but it likely wouldn't happen. You toss your bag of art supplies in the back seat and drive home.

“Jungkook! You here?” You step into your shared apartment and drop your bag on the kitchen counter. The smell of burnt wax mixed with vanilla bean hits you as soon as you walk into the living room. “Jungkook you better be home or these candles are going in the trash!” You really didn’t mind the candles but your husband had a nasty habit of keeping them lit even when you were both out of the house. He didn’t do it on purpose, of course, it was accidental but it was too much of a fire hazard to ignore.

“Kook!” you holler again, but no reply. These damn candles. You snuff them out one by one before venturing into the bedroom. Thankfully none were lit in there. You reach behind your back and unzip your dress, letting it pile around your feet. It's a beautiful dress but you were dying to get into a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt.

“Hey honey,” Jungkook says, emerging from the bathroom with damp hair and a towel tied around his waist. You let out a yelp before making eye contact. You've always been easily startled. “How was the park?”

Mentally, you bite your lip. This man was getting sexier every day, especially with that gold band wrapped around his fourth finger. You toss a t-shirt over your head. “Absolutely wonderful. Been a while since I’ve been able to really focus and draw. I loved every second." Should you mention the child? You pause, briefly contemplating the thought. Why not? "A really cute kid came up to watch me draw too…’til his mother took him away.” You don't notice but you nearly spat the last part.

Jungkook lets out a small snort, amused by your sudden irritation. There were many things he knew you could put up with, a resilient woman you were. But whoever this kid’s mother was must have gotten under your skin in the most unusual way. “It’s great you had a good time but you sound borderline offended about whoever this kid’s mother is.”

“It’s nothing really.” You shrug. “The kid came up to me and grabbed my hand. We had a nice talk but then his mom showed up. She didn’t even say hi to me. She just picked up her son and scowled at me like I took him or something. Believe me, I get it. But I didn’t do anything!”

“Don’t think about it too much __. She was probably just worried about getting her son back. I’m sure she did mean anything.”

“I guess. But do I really look that harmful?” You face your husband, hands perfectly poised on your hips.

Jungkook strides over to you and strokes down your arms until your hands relax to your sides. He gives you a quick peck on the lips. “Yes.”

Surprised, your mouth falls open. How dare he?! You give a pout, one that Jungkook finds especially irresistible. “Then you can keep your hands and lips off me for the rest of the night, Mr. Jeon.” You wiggle out of his grasp.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you for the past four years Ms. y/l/n. But you couldn’t stay away, could you? Just had to marry your hot professor, you naughty girl.” Jungkook grabs you again, pressing himself against your torso. You squeal at the contact. Married for two years and you’re still a blushing mess, get it together __!

“I wasn’t the one who was grabbing my student’s ass after class halfway through the first semester,” you quip, gripping his biceps. “I’m innocent.”

“Oh honey, nonono. You don’t get to play the role of a shy little angel who got eaten by her big bad wolf of a professor day one of university. You were already a master's student when we met. You knew what you were getting into when you started wearing tight little skirts to my class.”

You roll your eyes. “C’mon I had leggings underneath and I wore sweaters. If you’re accusing me of seducing you through my wardrobe then you have a very odd way of getting turned on.”

“Honey, how long have you known me? Sure tits and ass are cool and I won’t say no if you wanna show me.” You give a light shove on his shoulder at that, Jungkook chuckles. “But I have a doctorate in economics. Nothing catches my interest more than a studious individual like yourself studying all the angles of supply and demand. Plus, I liked your sweaters. Made me curious what you were hiding.”

“Oh stop it!” You end up giggling at your husband’s beyond-cheesy explanations. “How am I supposed to know my economics professor was ogling my teddy bear sweater for fuck sake?”

Jungkook throws his head back, feigning frustration. “It wasn’t a teddy bear sweatshirt. It was a bunny and it was very cute!”

“Whatever. Point is, I’m not the one to blame. I was a good student getting her master’s like her parents wanted until she found out her professor was sculpted from the gods themselves. Your shirts were barely fitting you. I swore they were going to bust one of those class periods.” You imagine the horrified look your peers would give. Not you though, you'd probably start drawing him. Shameless, really.

“As I recall that shirt-busting happened many times by your claws. I had to replace a dozen shirts in a month from how many you destroyed.” A pair of manly hands sensually trace down your sides. Jungkook leans forward, lips near your ear. “Seems like you had a lot of pent-up energy.” He nips your ear before peppering small kisses down your neck.

“You have no idea.“ You close your eyes, a moan escaping from you. "Professor–"

Jungkook grunts, suddenly suckling on the sensitive skin. “Mmm you haven’t called me that in a while. Kinda missed it”, he says, backing you up against the dresser. You were about to hop on top when your ass hit the edge but a rude, obnoxious ringing pulled Jungkook off you.

“Hey man!” Your husband answers the phone, a little too joyous in your opinion. You knew exactly who it was on the phone–Park Jimin. You bite your cheek, doing your best to keep down a sour face.

“Yeah let me ask __. Hold on.” Jungkook looks at you. “Honey, Jimin wants us to go out to dinner with the guys. You wanna go or stay in?”

Maybe, you think. You love Jimin but his dinners are usually quite elaborate. He always makes reservations to the fanciest restaurants in Seoul, and he required everyone to be dressed to the hills. It was fun now and then but did you have the energy for that tonight? Eh. What the hell. “Sure. What time?”

Jungkook passes on your inquiry before looking at you again. “6 p.m.” You nod in consent and walk to your closet, rummaging through your clothes for something Jimin-worthy. “Alright man, we’ll see you there. Yeah got it, k bye.” Jungkook hangs up the phone and watches you pull out dress shirts, pants, blazers, literally all your work clothes. “Found anything?” he pipes up.

You pull out a dark green dress, above knee-length, and gorgeously hemmed. “I’m pretty sure I wore this last time but–“

“Next," Jungkook interrupts. "Jimin will notice and you know how he gets when people wear the same outfit twice in a row.” your husband fiddles with through his own dresser drawers, yanking out an oversized t-shirt. You groan knowing all too well how tight Jimin ran this operation. One time Namjoon came in the same maroon dress shirt as before causing Jimin to have an absolute fit. He even made the man go home and change. Dinner was late that night.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You rummage through your closet again hoping to find something tucked in the back. There’s bound to be something. “Damnit, I thought I had more than this,” you grunt, finding nothing.

“Do we need to go on a last-minute shopping trip?” Jungkook throws on a pair of cargo pants.

You groan internally. Shopping isn't your favorite activity. It always took so long, and nothing was to your liking. You prefer online shopping but with only three hours until dinner and apparently nothing in your wardrobe, you suppose it's inescapable.

“Come on, honey.” Jungkook combs through his hair with a few fingers and grabs his wallet from the nightstand. “This is for Jimin."

"Alright, let me put some jeans on.” Jimin, you bougie little punk.

You view yourself in the dressing room mirror, a plum-colored dress adorning your body. This is the tenth dress you've tried on and to be honest, you feel pretty good in it. Nothing feels itchy, too snug, or out of place. The dress was a simple, strapless sheath dress and it fit you like a glove.

"__." Jungkook taps on the door. "You're not gonna like what I have to say but it's inevitable…there's been a change of plans."

"Okay," you reply with strain. "What is it?" You unlock the door to find your husband glancing down at his phone. It's a text from Jimin, you notice.

"Sorry for this but we're not going out for dinner tonight. Seokjin's daughter isn't feeling well so they're going to stay home. Yoongi also hasn't been able to get much time with his kids and wife lately so he's not coming either." Jungkook continues reading Jimin's text aloud. "I don't think we should go out without the whole party so I'm thinking about canceling our reservations."

Damn.

"You look beautiful," he says, catching your half-disappointed expression. "I'm sorry."

"It's no big deal," you sigh. "We'll eat in." From Jungkook's point of view, you were upset about wasting an hour and a half on shopping. He knew you'd much rather be back with your drawing pencils or watching a drama. He felt bad. The real reason, the one you think best to keep to yourself, however, is that hearing Jimin's text reminded you of Si-woo again. Further, it reminded you that nearly everyone in your friend group had at least one kid except you and Jungkook. Normally it didn't affect you though, so why did it today? Had the little kid from earlier really stuck with you that much?

"__? Everything alright?," Jungkook says. "I know we had plans and we've been shopping for a while but if you like the dress you should still get it. Jimin will have his dinner again and there will be other times you'll need it."

It takes you a moment but you reply, forcing a fake smile the best you can. "Oh yeah, yeah I'm good. I dazed off for a second there. I'll–I'll put the dress back actually."

Seeing through your facade, Jungkook lightly grips your arms. "If there's something you're not telling me I'd like to know, please?"

His endearing facial expression both soothes you and creates coils of nervousness in the pit of your stomach. You want to tell him what's up. You also want to pop the question that you've both been sweeping under the rug for the last two years. But how? Maybe you shouldn't. Maybe you're just in a mood today.

"Have–" You start but the rest of the words don't come out.

Jungkook waits for you to finish the sentence. "Have you thought of any ideas for dinner?" You stutter out. "'Cause I was thinking it’d be easier to order takeout tonight."

Eyes narrowing, your husband stares into your eyes. He's searching for any hint that you're bluffing–shifty eyes and such. You think he's caught onto you until his shoulders relax and eyebrows soften. "I was thinking the same thing. But also, I'm buying you this dress even if you don't. It's gorgeous on you and I know you want it. Now take it off and let's go find something to eat."

You manage to chuckle a "thank you" and slip back into the stall to change into your normal clothes. You feel a slight pang of guilt in your gut for not coming clean to him but you weren't sure if you were ready to tell him the truth no more than he'd be ready to hear it.

“Seriously honey.” Jungkook’s voice carries over the stall. “Are you really alright? Do you need anything?” You swallow hard at his persistence.

“I’m perfectly fine,” you reply. “Maybe a little hungry.” One day at a time __, you think.

You end up placing a dinner order at a local favorite nearby. You and Jungkook take it back to the apartment, curl up on the couch, and put a movie on. You nearly fall asleep after the first forty minutes because the plot is so utterly dry and quite frankly, boring. Jungkook seems to be enjoying it though so the movie plays the entire way through.

Still hardly paying attention, your mind drifts off to other affairs. You think about your upcoming work week, what to get for your best friend's birthday in the following few weeks, and the cute dog you saw yesterday, and of course, you loop back to the same lingering topic–your brief afternoon with Si-woo. Part of you wanted to take him home but Jungkook would have a fit, as well as you know...Si-woo's mother. You snort at how interested you've become in entertaining thoughts about children and taking care of them. As you've covered before, you aren't the mom type.

Si-woo and his mother looked very similar though. They shared the same hair color, eyes, and face shape. You wonder what his father looked. Did he have long hair too? Did he share the same lips? Before you can stop yourself from going further you wonder how identical your own child might be to you and Jungkook. Would your child love the arts like you or the social sciences like your husband? You suppose it could be a blend since you technically have a master's in economics yourself. You'd much rather be owning and operating an art museum or being a studio art professor but that's beside the point. Your child would be free to venture down their own path. That is if you have any.

You shift your eyes to Jungkook who's concentrating heavily on the movie. He's a wonderful husband, you sigh, full of love. No doubt he'd make a great father but did he want to? Jungkook never really mentioned it before and neither did you. When you first start dating you had a brief talk about children and building a family but you were still in school then and Jungkook was swamped with his teaching responsibilities. Children weren't something that either of you felt like you could handle at the time. After you'd gotten married there was an opportunity to discuss it again but you were both quite comfortable with it being just the two of you. Today is the first day you've shown any serious aversion to your comfortable lifestyle–you want a baby.

Once the credit scenes appear Jungkook feels your eyes burn through him from your lounged position. "You're making that face again," he says.

"There's no face."

"Yes there is."

"I don't think so."

Patience running thin, the tone in your husband's voice gets firmer. He's not angry but it's clear his temper is rising. You and Jungkook haven't had a spat in a while and you really don't want to start now. "I can see that there's something on your mind. It's the same one you had from the dressing room and I'm pretty sure it isn't about food this time."

"I don't know what you want me to say," you mumble tiredly. You sit up straight. "My face is my face."

"Honey, I know there's something going on that you're not telling me. Is this about that kid's mother from earlier? Because I'm certain it wasn't personal."

"No, it's not about that at all. It's just been a long week and I'm exhausted," you lie, yawning as if on queue. Jungkook grips the couch arm in agitation. He isn't sure what's going on but he isn't letting you go to bed without getting to the bottom of it.

"You're not having second thoughts about our marriage are you?" He throws the idea out there, hoping its obvious inaccuracy will push you to tell him the truth. You grimace at the guess.

"That's ridiculous!" You sneer. "How could you think that?"

"Well maybe because you're not telling me anything else?" Jungkook tosses his hands up. "I mean who knows, it could be anything. Was it the movie? Shopping? Are you horny? What the fuck is it?!" You jump at his sudden outburst.

"No it's none of those–"

"Look," Jungkook cuts shortly. "Will you just tell me so we can deal with it?!" You throw him a nasty look.

"Just deal with it? Like it's some kind of nuisance of an issue that needs treatment?" You jump up from the couch and head to your bedroom in a fury, your husband hot on your trail.

"I don't mean to be pissing you off, sweetheart but I know something's up." He follows you into the bathroom, watching you reach for your toothbrush. "Can you please slow down and talk to me?" He grabs the toothpaste before you can, forcing you to stop in your tracks. You feel your body starting to shake, eyes tearing up. You friggin' hate fighting and you hate being so unsure about telling him the truth–that you want a family. You're scared of his response most. What if he says no?

Realizing your nervous state, Jungkook takes a deep breath and softens his tone. He hates seeing you cry and he hates it even more when he's the one causing it. "I'm sorry honey." He steps towards you but you flinch away. You're not ready to be touched yet.

"I–I want...I want to be a mom. I want a baby." You wait for your husband's reaction and when it comes you instantly start bawling.

"A baby? What do you mean you want a baby?" Jungkook feels everything inside of him panicking. There's a reason he teaches economics to college students and not high schoolers or below. He doesn't do children, he isn't cut out for it. He'll babysit of his hyung's kids from time to time but at the end of the day, they aren't coming back home with him. Jungkook was sure his wife felt the same way but now? Now she's tearing up in front of him, scared to tell him she wants a child–one that will be his.

Jungkook takes you into his arms, his thumb wipes off some of your tears. "Honey, I'm sorry I didn't know. When you came home from the park I didn't realize that little boy meant so much to you." You try blinking back your tears but they keep running down your face. He's being gentle with you and you appreciate that but his choice of words tells you his answer is no. It's quiet, subtle, and cuts like a knife.

You break away from him to splash cold water on your face. The coolness calms your nerves. “He didn’t. Never–never mind what I said, sorry. I’m tired and I’m probably not thinking straight.” You leave the bathroom, leaving Jungkook scrambling for his thoughts.

A/N: Lmk what you think, tysm for stopping by 💞

Masterlist

#btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

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lovers-rck · 11 months ago

Text

bubble gum

summary ellie hids something in her notebook

content friends to lovers, ellie williams x fem!reader

☆

"do you want to see that movie that i told you about?"

you make a face, looking at the weird pink thing on the ceiling "is that gum?"

ellie follow your gaze and cringe "i don't know what you are talking about"

"that, on your ceiling"

"there's nothing in the ceiling" she says, avoiding your gaze and playing with her pen.

"yeah there is!" you replie "look there"

"maybe you are high"

"what? that makes zero... whatever"

ellie's face displays a victorious smile as she keeps drawing in her sketchbook "so... you want to see that movie? jesse told me that was super scary"

you were laying down in ellie's bed, outside was raining. you kept looking at the gum in the ceiling as you scrunched your nose "i don't know. im not in the mood for a scary movie"

ellie rolled her eyes. she had already seen the movie, but maybe if she pretended not to have seen it before to watch it with you maybe, just maybe, you would snuggle up to her in the scary parts. or whatever.

"pussy" she murmurs. her pencil traces long sketches on the rough paper

"you are so annoying" you say as you sit in the bed, finger brushing your hair "what are you drawing?"

ellie shakes her head "nothing" she is sitting at the head of the bed, with her back against the wall. some thread of hair are resting in her face, tickling her skin, and you have the urge to put those annoying locks behind her ear.

but you don't.

"let me see" you say

you crawl between the sheets, sitting across from ellie, who is holding the sketchbook strangely tightly.

"it's just doodles"

"okay" you replie "i want to see them"

"is shit"

"all your work is shit to you" you rolled your eyes "i never get to see your drawings"

"you are so noisy, has anyone ever told you that?" ellie says

you stick out your tongue playfully and when ellie laughs you grab her sketchbook quickly. ellie is quick too and lunges at you, your body getting pinned between the mattress and ellie's body.

you two become a jumble of wrestling arms and hands "give it back" ellie yells, half laughing half angry "no!" you scream, holding the sketchbook above your head "bitch!" you yell when ellie bites your shoulder

you hear ellie's laugh and take that opportunity to open the sketchbook above her head, where she can't reach in that position.

you always wanted to see what ellie did in that notebook, always curled up in the pages sketching something. you noticed how she always carried a pen and that notebook everywhere she goes, drawing something time to time.

so your surprise is genuine when you go through the pages and find various drawings of you.

you laughing with jesse. you with some dogs. you and that stupid frog stuffed animal she gave you. you smiling. and the most recent sketch, half way finished; you laying down in her bed, just like you were a couple minutes ago.

the drawings are beautiful, quickly but really good studies of you. if you squint your eyes a bit, you can see where she erased some lines to redraw them more accurately.

you flinch when ellie's hand interrupt your surprise by grabbing and closing the notebook. she moves away from you and you sit down.

ellie is sitting a couple inches away from you, avoiding your gaze and hugging that sketchbook like a kid hugging her favorite toy.

your lack of words was not exactly due to the drawings. you knew that this was normal and that ellie used to draw people she knew, you were in moments where she decided to walk away and draw the moment, immortalizing it on paper.

your lack of words was due to what the scribbles and words around the drawings meant. little hearts, short confessions of love and silly doodles were the things your eyes could decipher in the short seconds you held the notebook in your hands.

"ellie"

"i told you that they were stupid drawings" she replied, her voice tinged with rage and shame.

she felt idiot. too idiot to fall in love with her friend . too dumb to draw her friend when she was distracted, trying to capture every tiny detail that make you special with a stupid pen in a stupid notebook. too idiot to think about you in that way.

"they are not" you murmur

"yes they are" she feels so ashamed "i should throw this thing to the trash can"

you feel how angry and ashamed she is and your mind just can think of the dumbest or smartest response that has ever you occurred.

so you kiss her.

you fingertips feel the soft skin of her cheeks as you press your lips against hers. you don't move, too afraid to do something, so for a couple of seconds your lips just stay there, warming eachothers flesh.

when you feel that you had made the stupidest decision ever you move away, panicking and mumbling sorry's. your hands leaves ellie's cheeks, to embarrassed to even look at her.

"im sorry" you murmur "im sorry ellie. i don't know who gave me the right to do that. im sorry" you look at the door of her room "maybe i should go. sorry"

but before you can go, ellie kisses you back. her grip is more stronger that yours, her hand resting in the back of your head, moving you against her.

she moves her lips this time. her mouth moves against yours, deepening the kiss quickly. hungry.

she pushes you closer to her, moving you in a way that you end up in her lap, with your hands in her neck, kissing her like your life depends on it.

you can feel the same response from her. her hands are everywhere, squeezing and touching and caressing every part of your body as fast as she can, too excited to keep her hands in one place.

a few moments later you move away from your mouth, searching for air. she looks at you.

everything is very awkward for a couple of seconds before you two start laughing.

ellie's chest moves as she laughs with embarrassment "god" she mouths

you laugh too "confessing your love for me trough drawings" you say "fucking drama queen"

ellie hide her face with her hands "shut up. im embarrassed"

"as you should"

"idiot" she murmurs, taking her hands off her face "can i kiss you again?"

you roll your eyes.

but you nod.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams lesbian #lesbians #friends to lovers #tlou #the last of us #ellie williams fanfic #ellie the last of us

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