#i just thought these two were cute and neat together | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marvelousels · 1 month ago

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THEY SHOWED ME THINGS, I DIDN’T KNOW

authors note : been on a terribly long writers block and i decided to write this while listening to red wine supernova! this is not proofread and forgive me for how bad this is + smut is not what i can write so js made it an heavy makeout sesh.

pairings : caitvi x fem!reader

red wine supernova by Chappell Roan playing!

It wasn’t like I’d ever been invisible. My teachers loved me, my grades were near-perfect, and I played second violin in the orchestra. People knew my name. But somehow, none of that made me feel seen.

Until Caitlyn Kiramman and Vi walked into my life.

They were the kind of people who didn’t just walk through the halls of Piltover High—they owned them. Caitlyn, with her sharp uniforms, always carrying herself like she was heading to a boardroom rather than her next AP class. And Vi? Well, Vi was everything Caitlyn wasn’t—wild hair, a perpetual smirk, and that leather jacket she wore like a badge of honor. They were opposites, but together, they were magnetic.

And for some reason I still don’t fully understand, they noticed me.

I was sitting under the big oak tree in the courtyard, trying to focus on my history notes but mostly just zoning out. That’s when their shadow fell over me.

“You’re in my chem class, right?” Caitlyn asked, crouching down to meet my gaze. Her voice was crisp, but her smile softened it.

“Uh, yeah. I sit… three rows back?” I replied, surprised she even knew I existed.

“She’s got the neat notes,” Vi said, plopping down next to me like she’d known me her whole life. “The ones that look like they belong in a museum or something.”

I blinked, unsure if that was a compliment. “I just like color coding.”

Vi grinned. “Cute.”

From that day on, they didn’t leave me alone. Not that I minded. It was… nice. Caitlyn helped me with calculus when she realized I was hopeless at derivatives. Vi taught me how to throw a proper punch after she overheard me confessing I’d never even been in a fight. They pulled me into their orbit, and I let myself get swept away.

But the thing that stuck with me most wasn’t the tutoring or the sparring sessions. It was the way they opened my eyes to things I’d never thought about before.

“I can’t believe you’ve never done this,” Vi said, tugging me toward the edge of the rooftop.

It was late, far past curfew, and Caitlyn had dragged me out of bed with a promise of “something fun.” That “something fun” turned out to be sneaking onto the roof of the tallest building in the neighborhood to stargaze.

“I’m not exactly a rebel,” I muttered, hugging myself against the chill.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Caitlyn said, her tone light but her gaze steady. She sat down, patting the spot next to her. “Come on. You’ll like it.”

I hesitated for a moment before joining her. The view was… breathtaking. The city stretched out below us, a sea of glittering lights that felt as endless as the stars above.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“Told you,” Vi said, flopping down on my other side. “This is what life’s about, y’know? The little things.”

Caitlyn nodded. “The things that make you feel alive.”

I glanced at them, my chest tightening. They made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t realized I was missing.

They showed me music I’d never heard, places I’d never been, and feelings I’d never felt.

Caitlyn took me to a gallery opening one weekend, her hand warm around mine as she explained the stories behind each piece. “Art isn’t just about technique,” she said, her voice low and soothing. “It’s about the way it makes you feel.”

Vi, on the other hand, took me to an underground concert. The music was loud and messy, and the crowd was suffocating, but she was there, grinning at me like this was the greatest place on earth. “You don’t think, you just feel,” she yelled over the noise, pulling me into the rhythm.

Between the two of them, I learned how to look at the world differently. To feel it differently.

I don’t know when I started falling for them. Maybe it was the way Caitlyn’s eyes softened whenever I asked her about her favorite book, or the way Vi’s laugh echoed in my chest like a second heartbeat. Maybe it was the way they looked at me—like I wasn’t just the quiet girl with perfect grades but someone worth knowing, worth loving.

The three of us were sprawled out on Caitlyn’s couch one evening, a bottle of cheap wine Vi had smuggled in resting on the coffee table.

“You’ve never had wine?” Caitlyn asked, raising an elegant eyebrow.

“I’m underage,” I reminded her, earning a snort from Vi.

“Rules are just suggestions,” Vi said, pouring me a glass. “Live a little.”

I hesitated before taking a sip. It was sharp and tangy, and I coughed, making both of them laugh.

“You’ll get used to it,” Caitlyn said, her hand brushing mine.

“Yeah,” Vi added, her grin softening. “First time’s always weird, but after that? You wonder how you ever lived without it.”

They weren’t just talking about the wine.

They showed me things I never knew—about the world, about myself, about what it means to love and be loved. And for the first time in my life, I felt seen.

By Caitlyn and Vi.

And that was enough.

It was one of those nights that felt infinite, the air buzzing with unspoken energy. Caitlyn’s bedroom was dimly lit by the soft, golden glow of her bedside lamp. The three of us were piled on her plush, oversized bed, a half-finished bottle of wine between us. I could feel the heat of Vi’s arm pressed against mine, Caitlyn’s knee brushing my leg as she shifted closer.

“You’ve been holding out on us,” Vi teased, her voice low, a little raspy from the wine.

“About what?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

“About this,” she said, reaching over to gently tug the hem of my shirt, her smirk playful but her eyes… different. There was something in them, something that made my breath hitch.

Caitlyn tilted her head, studying me like I was one of those paintings she loved to explain. “You’re nervous,” she said softly, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

I swallowed hard. “I—”

“It’s okay,” Caitlyn interrupted, leaning in. Her hand reached up, cupping my cheek, her thumb brushing lightly against my skin. “We won’t push you, but… if you want to try…”

I barely had time to process her words before her lips were on mine. They were soft, warm, and patient, moving against mine in a way that made my head spin. My hands hovered awkwardly at my sides before I hesitantly rested one on her shoulder.

“Not fair,” Vi murmured, her voice thick with mock annoyance.

Caitlyn pulled back, her lips quirking into a grin. “There’s enough of her to share,” she said, her tone teasing but her eyes impossibly tender.

Before I could respond, Vi’s fingers found my chin, turning my face toward her. Her kiss was nothing like Caitlyn’s. Where Caitlyn was soft and measured, Vi was fire—hot and consuming, her lips pressing against mine like she’d been waiting forever.

I let out a quiet gasp, and Vi chuckled, her forehead resting against mine for a moment before pulling me into another kiss. This time, Caitlyn’s hand slid to the back of my neck, her fingers threading through my hair as she pressed kisses along my jaw.

It was overwhelming and dizzying in the best way. Their hands were everywhere—Caitlyn’s light and exploratory, Vi’s firm and grounding. I felt like I was being consumed by them, every nerve in my body alight.

“You’re so beautiful,” Caitlyn whispered against my skin, her breath warm and her voice like velvet.

“Perfect,” Vi added, her lips brushing my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

I didn’t have words. I could only lean into them, letting myself drown in their touch, their kisses, their warmth.

In that moment, I wasn’t just seen—I was wanted, cherished. And I wanted them just as much.

The room felt heavier now, charged with something electric, like a storm waiting to break. Caitlyn’s lips trailed down the side of my neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake, while Vi tilted my chin toward her for another kiss. It wasn’t rushed or impatient—it was slow, deliberate, like she was savoring every second.

“Relax,” Vi murmured against my lips, her hand finding its way to my waist. “We’ve got you.”

The words sent a rush of warmth through me, making it easier to melt into them. Caitlyn’s hand cupped the back of my head, guiding me toward her as Vi pulled back with a playful smirk.

“Your turn again, Princess,” Vi teased, leaning back to watch, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on my thigh.

“Don’t call me that,” Caitlyn shot back, though there was no real bite to her tone. She turned her attention back to me, her lips curling into a soft smile before she kissed me again. Her hand moved from my neck to my jaw, tilting my face to deepen the kiss, her movements smooth and confident.

I barely registered Vi moving closer until I felt her fingers brushing against the hem of my shirt, her touch feather-light. “This okay?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost gentle.

I nodded, the word catching in my throat before I could say it out loud.

Vi’s grin softened as she leaned in, her lips pressing against my shoulder. “You’re so damn cute when you’re flustered,” she muttered, the warmth of her breath making my skin tingle.

“Don’t overwhelm her,” Caitlyn chided, though her lips were still brushing mine as she spoke.

“She can handle it,” Vi said with a wink, her fingers sliding under the fabric to rest against my waist. Her touch was warm, grounding, and it made my head spin all over again.

They worked together in a way that felt effortless—Caitlyn’s kisses slow and exploring, while Vi’s hands roamed, her touch just the right mix of teasing and reassuring. Every now and then, they’d exchange a glance, a wordless conversation passing between them, making me feel like I was the center of something bigger than myself.

“You’re doing so good,” Caitlyn murmured against my lips, her hand trailing down my arm to intertwine her fingers with mine.

“Better than good,” Vi added, her lips brushing against the corner of my jaw as her hand tightened slightly on my waist. “You’re perfect.”

I felt like I was floating, caught between the two of them, their touches and words wrapping around me like a cocoon. For the first time, I wasn’t overthinking or doubting myself—I was just feeling. And it was everything.

Caitlyn pulled back just enough to look at me, her expression soft and adoring. “You’re sure this is okay?” she asked, her thumb brushing against my cheek.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my voice barely audible but certain.

Vi grinned. “Good. ‘Cause we’re just getting started.”

She leaned in again, and I let myself sink into the moment, into them. They were showing me things I never knew, things I’d only dreamed of. And for once, I wasn’t afraid to let go.

Caitlyn shifted, her hand trailing from my cheek to rest lightly on my shoulder. Her eyes scanned my face, taking in every reaction like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” she whispered, her voice so tender it made my chest ache.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Vi leaned in, pressing another kiss to the corner of my lips before trailing her way to my neck. Her teeth grazed my skin, just enough to make me gasp, and she chuckled against me.

“Damn, Cait, I think we broke her,” Vi teased, her lips moving against my neck as she spoke.

“She’s not broken,” Caitlyn countered, her tone amused but firm. “She’s overwhelmed. There’s a difference.”

I couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh, my head spinning as their attention consumed me. “I’m right here, you know,” I managed to say, though my voice was breathless.

Vi pulled back just enough to smirk at me. “Oh, we know. Trust me, we know.” Her hands slid from my waist to my hips, her grip firm but comforting. “You’re impossible to ignore.”

Caitlyn hummed in agreement, leaning in to press another kiss to my lips. This one was slower, deeper, and I felt myself melt into her touch, my fingers instinctively reaching for her waist. She smiled against me, her hand gently tracing along my jawline before pulling back slightly.

“I love how responsive you are,” Caitlyn murmured, her thumb brushing against my bottom lip. Her words sent a shiver down my spine, and she smiled at my reaction.

“Yeah,” Vi added, her voice dropping an octave. “You’re like a little open book. Every time we touch you, it’s like you light up.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and I ducked my head in an attempt to hide it. But Caitlyn’s hand was there, gently tilting my chin back up.

“Don’t hide from us,” she said softly, her eyes searching mine. “We want to see all of you.”

Vi leaned in again, pressing a kiss to my shoulder before whispering, “She’s right. You don’t need to hold back with us. Just let go.”

Their words, their touches, the way they looked at me—it was overwhelming in the best possible way. I felt like I was unraveling, piece by piece, but instead of falling apart, I was being put back together by their hands, their lips, their warmth.

Caitlyn kissed me again, her hand sliding to the small of my back, pulling me closer. At the same time, Vi’s hands moved up, brushing against the hem of my shirt before slipping underneath, her fingertips trailing along my skin.

“You okay?” Vi asked, her voice softer now, almost gentle.

I nodded, my voice caught in my throat as I leaned into their touch. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Caitlyn’s smile was radiant, her lips pressing softly to my temple. “Good,” she whispered. “Because we’re not letting you go anytime soon.”

Vi’s grin was wolfish, her fingers grazing my ribs as she leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. “Better buckle up, sweetheart. We’re just getting started.”

And with that, they pulled me even deeper into their orbit, their touches and kisses showing me a world I never knew existed—a world where I was wanted, adored, and completely, blissfully theirs.

The room felt smaller now, the air thick with heat and something deeper—something electric that pulsed between the three of us. Caitlyn’s lips found mine again, her movements impossibly soft, like she was memorizing every detail. Vi’s hands were still under my shirt, her touch slow and deliberate as her fingers ghosted over my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

“Relax, baby,” Vi whispered against my neck, her voice low and soothing. Her lips brushed my skin, lingering at the spot just below my ear, and I felt my breath hitch. “We’ve got you.”

Caitlyn pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against mine as her thumb traced slow circles on the back of my hand. “You’re safe with us,” she said softly, her words laced with so much care it made my chest ache.

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I know,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

“Good,” Caitlyn murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead before leaning back, her eyes scanning my face. “Because we want to take our time with you.”

Vi chuckled, her hands sliding to my waist as she leaned back enough to look me in the eyes. “She’s right,” she said, her smirk softening into something warmer. “This isn’t just some one-time thing, you know. You’re ours now.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave, and I felt my heart stutter in my chest. “Yours?” I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Vi said, her grip on my waist firm but comforting. “If you want to be.”

Caitlyn’s hand cupped my cheek, her gaze steady and full of something I couldn’t quite put into words. “We mean it,” she said softly. “We want you with us—not just tonight, but for as long as you’ll have us.”

I blinked, the weight of their words settling over me like a warm blanket. “I…” My voice faltered, but when I looked at them—at Caitlyn’s gentle smile and Vi’s steady gaze—I felt the last of my hesitation melt away.

“I want that too,” I said finally, my voice quiet but certain.

Vi’s grin widened, and she leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Good,” she murmured. “Because we weren’t planning on letting you go.”

Caitlyn smiled, her lips brushing softly against mine before she pulled back just enough to speak. “We’re going to take care of you,” she said, her voice like honey. “We’ll show you everything you’ve been missing.”

And they did.

Caitlyn’s kisses were careful and precise, her hands moving slowly as though she were savoring every second. Vi’s touch was bolder, her lips and hands leaving trails of fire wherever they went. They worked in perfect harmony, their movements seamless, their focus entirely on me.

I felt like I was unraveling under their touch, my head spinning and my body trembling as they showed me a world I’d never dared to imagine. Every kiss, every whisper, every touch was a promise—one of care, devotion, and something deeper that I couldn’t quite name.

By the time we finally collapsed together, tangled in each other’s arms, I felt more whole than I ever had before. Caitlyn’s hand was in my hair, her fingers combing through it gently, while Vi’s arm was draped over my waist, her grip firm and protective.

“You’re ours now,” Caitlyn said softly, her voice laced with a quiet certainty.

“And we’re yours,” Vi added, her lips pressing against my temple.

I smiled, my heart full as I closed my eyes. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I’m yours.”

And in that moment, I knew it was true. They had shown me things I’d never known—about love, about trust, about what it meant to truly belong. And I was theirs, completely and undeniably.

#arcane #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #fanfiction #caitlyn defender #oneshot #suggestive #caitvi #caitvi x you #caitvi x reader #wlw smut #chappell roan #violet arcane #au college

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pure-smut · 7 months ago

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say red.

featuring: Iwaizumi Hajime x f!reader

contains: academic rivals to lovers, dom!Iwaizumi, rough s*x, degradation, dirty talk, creampie

note: all characters are over 18!

MDNI | 18+ content

word count: 2k

series: 1. say red | 2. say red | 3. say red

masterlist

You’d never paid attention to Iwaizumi Hajime. Just another face in the lecture hall, another voice answering questions, another serious guy with a serious face taking things so seriously.

It’s only when you’re paired together to work on a semester-long project that you pay attention to him for the first time. And wow – he’s fucking annoying.

“We need to meet up more than once every two weeks,” Iwaizumi tells you, frowning at your suggestion. “We won’t get enough done before the deadline.”

“It’ll be fiiiine,” you sigh. “The project barely contributes to our grade. All we need to do is pass.”

Iwaizumi narrows his olive eyes at you, entirely displeased.

“How are you,” he bites out. “… top of the class?”

You give him a sweet smile, throwing up a peace sign.

“Because I’m great, obviously.”

You had somewhat noticed that Iwaizumi’s name was always second below yours whenever test scores were published. It’s clear that’s a sticking point for him because he clenches his teeth so hard, you can see a muscle bouncing in his jaw.

“We’re meeting up twice a week,” Iwaizumi says, standing. When you open your mouth to protest, he gives you a hard look. “That’s final.”

You roll your eyes and shrug.

“Fine, fine.” A grin crawls across your face. “Iwa.”

He shoots you a disgusted look.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, Iwa? It’s cute.”

Iwaizumi pokes his tongue into his cheek and rolls his eyes skyward.

“Whatever.”

With that, he gathers his bag and stomps out of the lecture hall. Your gaze follows the back of him as he disappears, the smile only slipping off your face when he leaves.

“So annoying,” you mutter to yourself, packing up your own things.

But it’s only until the end the semester. You can grin and bear it that long. Plus, it’s like you said before – the project barely impacts your grades. Iwaizumi might want to force you into way too many boring meetings but you have absolutely no intention of cooperating.

Iwaizumi messages you his address and a time to come round to work on the project.

Gotta buy a girl dinner first before you invite her to your bedroom, you message him back. He ignores you.

Like most other students, he lives on campus with a few other roommates. You half-expect to see them when you arrive at Iwaizumi’s but he tells you he’s chosen a day when everyone else is out.

“I need some peace and quiet if I’m dealing with you,” Iwaizumi says.

“Flattered,” you reply.

His room is neat and tidy, a smattering of volleyball trophies on the shelves. You vaguely remember that he’s on the college volleyball team but you didn’t know he’s good enough to have trophies. You smooth your features into something neutral so he doesn’t know you’re impressed.

You both sit at his desk, where Iwaizumi’s already set up notepads, pens and sticky notes.

“You’re prepared,” you remark, eliciting a heavy sigh from Iwaizumi.

“I’m sure it seems that way to someone who doesn’t even bring a pencil to class.”

You swing side to side on his wheely chair as Iwaizumi launches into his plan for the project, talking you through the list of bullet points. You make noncommittal noises, your eyes drifting off.

He has kind of a nice face, you think, your gaze dropping from his short dark hair to his sharp jaw. Iwaizumi’s wearing a t-shirt that stretches across his broad chest, the sleeves tight around his biceps. Damn, he’s pretty built, too.

Iwaizumi continues talking as your mind wanders. You wonder if he’s a good kisser. Hmm, probably too serious for that. Only chaste tongueless kisses and missionary in the dark.

You grin at your own thoughts and Iwaizumi stops talking mid-sentence.

“What are you laughing at?” His brow furrows. “You’re not even fucking listening.”

“Uh, no, not really,” you admit, throwing your hands up in defeat.

“Jesus christ…” Iwaizumi puts his elbows on the desk, digging his palms into his eyes.

He wants to launch himself out of the window. How is it possible that you of all people beat him in class? He freezes when he feels your finger trail over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Iwaizumi looks up.

“You’re so tense,” you say. You’re not lying – Iwaizumi’s muscles are like boulders. You give his bicep a poke and realise there’s almost no give. “Maybe that’s why you’re taking this so seriously.”

“You’re just taking this too lightly,” he says, frowning.

You’re looking at him weirdly, your eyes locked onto his, and the way you’re touching his arm is making his cheeks feel warm. What the fuck is going on?

Iwaizumi’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard and you smile, knowing you’ve got him. You stand up to move over and put yourself in Iwaizumi’s lap instead. His thighs are as hard as the rest of him and it feels like sitting in an actual chair. You wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’re kind of cute, y’know,” you say, cocking your head.

“Kind of,” he echoes, giving you a flat look. “Thanks.”

Iwaizumi’s hand rests on your thigh despite his unimpressed tone. You give him a sweet smile and trail a finger along his jaw, feeling the slight stubble there.

“Maybe you need some stress relief, hm?” you suggest, dragging your finger down to his hard chest.

“And you’re offering?”

“I thought you were supposed to be smart?” You cock an eyebrow. “Obviously, yes.”

Iwaizumi regards you, eyes sharp, and your breath hitches. Your smile nearly falters but you save it in time. It feels like he’s looking through you, into you. It’s a struggle to hold his gaze but you’ve never been one to back down. So you look right back at him.

Iwaizumi’s eyes soften and you see him smile for the first time. No, he smirks.

“Say red,” he tells you. “And I’ll stop.”

“O-okay.” You’re annoyed at yourself for stammering but something’s changed with Iwaizumi and it’s thrown you off.

“Repeat it back to me.”

“If I say red, you’ll stop,” you tell him and he gives a short nod, satisfied.

“Good.”

Iwaizumi stands abruptly, picking you up with him and throwing you on the bed. You yelp at the sudden movement, bouncing softly against the mattress.

“What-?”

You don’t have time to ask what the fuck is happening before Iwaizumi’s on you. He presses his mouth against yours, kissing you roughly. He pushes his body between your legs, forcing them apart to accommodate his thick frame.

One of Iwaizumi’s hands grabs your hip as the other snakes around your throat, holding you with enough force for you to feel it but not so hard you’re gasping. His soft lips are in contrast to the sharp stubble scratching your skin, his tongue sliding over yours.

Okay, I might have been wrong, you think. There’s nothing chaste about this.

Iwaizumi grinds his bulge against your clothed pussy, now exposed to him as he tugs up your dress. The friction through two layers of fabric is teasing, making your hips buck, desperate for more. You moan into his mouth and he squeezes your throat.

“Needy little slut,” he says roughly.

Iwaizumi’s degrading words only serve to turn you on even more. His voice has completely changed, now deep and throaty and utterly commanding. Iwaizumi keeps one hand around your neck as his other reaches down to unbutton his jeans.

“Is this what you want so badly?” he says as he pulls his cock free.

You gasp as it slaps against your mound, sending a spark of pleasure through you. You try to nod but Iwaizumi has your throat in too tight a grip.

“Use your fucking words,” he spits. “Tell me.”

“Y-yes, I want it. Please, I want it.”

Iwaizumi reaches down and you hear a violent rip. You’re not able to look down, your head fixed in place, but there’s a cool breeze across your exposed pussy. Your mouth drops open as you realise he’s ripped your panties clean off.

Iwaizumi smirks at your reaction.

“You act like a slut, you get treated like one.”

The Iwaizumi you knew before, so serious and studious, is long gone. You look up at him, his eyes feral, and realise you’ve severely underestimated who you’re up against. He lines up the fat head of his cock with your dripping hole.

“Look how fucking wet you are already.” Iwaizumi pushes himself inside you and you give a choked moan at the feel of him stretching you. “You don’t even need me to get you started, do you? You’ll spread your legs for fucking anyone.”

Iwaizumi’s flurry of degradation is making your pussy drool for him, only spurring you both on. But a nugget of defiance forms in your chest, even as tears stick to your lashes.

“This what your needy little pussy wants?” he demands, pushing in deeper to bottom out.

His cock feels so fucking good, dragging against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside you to make your whole body feel like it’s on fire, but your determination not to let him take over fully kicks in.

“Y-yes, Iwa,” you breathe out.

Iwaizumi’s jaw clenches.

“I told you not to fucking call me that,” he grits out.

As if to punctuate, he starts to pound at you hard. Every slam pushes you closer to the edge, sending a jolt through your body to the tips of your toes. His large hand around your neck is delicious, pinning you beneath him as he fucks you raw. You sink your nails into his forearm, lustful whimpers falling from your lips.

“S-sorry…” you gasp. “… Iwa.”

Iwaizumi growls, moving faster and setting a brutal pace.

“Fucking brat.”

You don’t have the strength to talk back anymore. Iwaizumi’s cock is pulling you to the edge, making your eyes roll back in your skull as he rips an orgasm from you. Your pussy clenches down like a vice grip around his cock and a moan escapes Iwaizumi’s throat.

“Fuck… fuck…” he groans.

Iwaizumi fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, wanting to watch you bounce under him. Your walls are so slick, so hot, so fucking tight. You’re tearing down all his restraint, moaning so sweetly even as his fist is wrapped around your throat. He knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m… gonna cum…” Iwaizumi says, voice hoarse.

“Inside me,” you plead. “Cum inside me, Iwa.”

Your words tip him over the edge.

His grip tightens on your neck, almost making you dizzy, as he thrusts once, burying himself fully. The moan he makes as he comes undone inside you is intoxicating, satisfying in a way you can’t explain. Iwaizumi’s chest heaves as he half-collapses on top of you, his arms shaking as he holds himself up.

Neither of you say anything, breathless and sweat-slicked.

“Well.” You break the silence with a grin. “I dunno about you but I definitely feel better.”

Iwaizumi’s serious face returns as he rolls his eyes, pulling away from you. He tugs a few tissues free from a box on his nightstand, handing them to you first before himself.

“What a gentleman,” you coo, cleaning yourself up.

“It’s polite. I’m not a savage.”

“The way you fuck says different.”

Even though you’ve still got his cum spilling out of you, Iwaizumi’s ears go pink at your comment. He ignores you and buttons his jeans back up. Cute, you think with a smile.

You point at your destroyed underwear.

“And you ruined my panties. That was rude.”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks tint as he blushes harder.

“Yeah, sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Finished cleaning yourself up, you hop off his bed and straighten your dress. “I’ll just make sure I’m not wearing any next time.”

Iwaizumi stills.

“Next time?”

“Duh.” You put a hand on your hip. “That was great, right? And my head feels totally clear. I think I’m actually ready to listen to your project plan or whatever.”

You take a seat at his desk, hands clasped demurely on your lap and smiling sweetly.

“Twice a week you said?”

#haikyu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi x y/n #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime smut #hajime iwaizumi x reader #hajime iwaizumi x you #aoba johsai smut #seijoh x reader #seijoh smut

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xxanaduwrites · 8 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ a residue series installment ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

honey, are you comin’?

previous part: sweet talkin’ | from the hive: session 1

✎ elementary-teacher!reader (miss.honey) x biker!benny 🏍️

summary: in which benny finds honey again. this time near a honeycomb, hopin’ for a taste on the road ;) (p.s.: if you were wonderin’, yes — the title of this was so inspired by måneskin)

warnings: not much of anything besides some minor talks of cruelty towards children, peeps being judgmental as hell, & smoking. they’re subtly flirting here basically. it’s cute! that’s really it. x

author’s note: oh my goodness! you have no idea how STUNNED i’ve been by all the love miss.honey!benny have been getting so far. fully was not expecting this. deadass wrote sweet talkin’ for fun. no thoughts, head empty type beat. just wanted to thank you honeys so so much. i can’t thank ya enough i fear! i literally still can’t wrap my head around this, but i love you all sm & can’t wait to share more with you! 🍯🐝🫶

word count: 2.7k

💌 requests are open, send ‘em honey 💋

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Another unbearable wave of heat managed to remain the very next day. Your students squirming against their metal chairs, antsy as ever for a reprieve. And so were you too. Thankfully, it just so happened to be your turn as fellow recess monitor with one or your fellow co-workers, Miss. Margie. Marge just so happened to be a newly breaded fresh faced teacher just like yourself. You enjoyed her company, more so than the older teachers who were rather cruel to the students. Especially when they did something wrong. Marge wasn’t cruel so to speak but she was a tough cookie, putting her foot down when needed. You two as a duo were rather perfect for the school grounds. You as the comfort go to when a knee was scraped, and Marge as the tough love go to when a particular student needed a stern talking to.

You worked well together, and it showed. Your relief was rather prominent when you stepped out the back door near the playground. An immediate swarm of giggles and chatter from small voices buzzed about, and you couldn’t help but smile as you adjusted your eyes to the sun, protected under your heart shaped sunnies. It didn’t take you long to find Marge who was already planted near the monkey bars with her arms crossed over her chest like a drill sergeant. Considering her father’s status as a war vet, by no means was it shocking to you or anyone else for that matter to see her in such a state.

“Hi Margie,” you greeted her once materialized next to her. “How’s it goin’?”

Margie's clear concentration dropped at the sound of your voice. “Oh no wonder,” she commented without looking at you. Her brows shot up in genuine intrigue.

Your honey coated lips parted in confusion instantly. “Huh?”

“Your three o’clock, Hun.” Margie tilted her head to the right subtly, directing you to her line of sight. A sight that made your heart curl into itself in a warm beat. Right behind those chain-linked fences that kept the kids contained was Uncle Benny. Yet, today his status as Uncle appeared to be rather amiss. Instead of Johnny’s car flanked near the curb, he was leaning against a neat Harley Davidson. The same one you saw him on that mornin’. You figured he was dropping off the girls or somethin’, but your curiosity got the better of you when you saw Mrs. Davis with them instead.

Now in the no parking zone, he stood out like the sorrest of thumbs. Practically a puzzle piece thrown into the wrong box. With no thoughts behind those pretty blue eyes of his besides you.

“That biker of yours stood up like a torpedo as soon as you walked out,” your co-worker added.

You took a moment to adjust your glasses, moving them to the tip of your nose to get a better look. Sure as shit, you weren’t having a heat stroke. It was really him. He was still here. Had he been out here since the mornin’ or left to come back? And if he was here for you like Margie said — why? You were certain he wasn’t much of a fan of you the day prior.

“He’s — He’s not my biker,” you mangled out, words twisting off your tongue as butterflies danced around your tummy.

Margie snorted. “I hate to break it to you, Hun. Lookin’ like he is now.” She paused a moment, shifting her footing as she spotted a youngin’ running roughly across the pavement, almost banging into another student. “Hey — watch where you’re goin’. Don’t push it Mikey!” She reprimanded before fixing herself upright and asking you, “What was all that about yesterday anyways?”

“What y’mean?” You questioned, not quite sure what she was going on about.

“You know — lettin’ the Davis girls go with ‘em. Caused a bit of an upheaval with the parents apparently. Heard all about it in the break room this mornin’. Doesn’t sound like Principal Rubs is real happy about it either.”

Your ears couldn’t believe what you were hearing. What business did the parents have putting their two cents in about somebody else’s family members? As for Principal Rubin, well, she was Principal Rubin after all. There wasn’t much to it there. The damn woman was a stickler with the sprinklers yesterday after all. Never a ball of fun as far as you were concerned.

“Why wouldn't I?” You challenged, becoming rather defensive.

“The guy pulled up like a maniac all greasy and shit. Almost gave everyone a heart attack,” Margie reasoned, her features churning in disgust.

You knew if he was some clean cut military guy in full uniform, she wouldn’t have made a comment at all, which kind-of pissed you off. Sure his clothes were lookin’ as if they hadn’t seen a washing machine in a cycle of days, but hey — what did that have to do with character? There were plenty of people who gave this outward canvas of perfectionism, far off from who they truly were deep down inside. You knew that, and you saw it every single day within the cruel clusters of your modern society. You saw it in the faces of your Ma and Pa when you didn’t fit the supposed mold they were trying to conform you to.

“So? He’s their Uncle, Marge,” you countered, defenses climbing high. “Did you ever think that maybe the man was runnin’ late? Worryin’ about the girls. That’s why he was speedin’.”

Margie sighed. “Not with that Vandals shit on his vest, but whatever you wanna believe, Hun.”

It went quiet between you two then. A clear indication that this conversation wasn’t gonna get the two of you anywhere.

“I should go talk to him,” you announced, snapping the awkward silence in half. There was no denying that you were now suddenly eager to find out what all this was about.

“Yuh should. If you don’t I will, and I doubt that will end well,” she joked, her eyes sparkling in amusement. Oh and she was right about that. Knowing Margie, you knew the idea of her approaching Benny would formulate a recipe for disaster.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the mental image of such a scene. But also — you were utterly glad for this newfound banter popped open from a bottle of tension. “Alright Colonel, I’ll be back,” you quipped, before heading across the playground.

You could feel his eyes burning across your form on your journey to the edge of the property, your tummy flipping again in a bit of nerves and excitement. A part of you felt somewhat disappointed when you found yourself coming to a halt — stuck behind the monstrous fence that separated you from him, while another was glad for some security. You weren’t quite sure what his motive was, but knew it couldn’t be anything bad. He was just sitting here, smoking and minding his own business. Well — minding you.

“The girls don’t get out of school for another few hours, y’know,” you said matter-of-factly, eyeing him through the grates of the fence that reminded you far too much of a honeycomb.

He didn’t say much of anything, just raised a brow as you as he took one last drag of his cigarette. You watched as he put it out against the pavement, amongst a garden of other buds with his boot. Your suspicions were coming into fusion then, the realization that he’d been planted here for as long as your delusions imagined.

What could he possibly want from an innocent elementary school teacher like you?

He reached for that packet of Marlboros in his vest pocket all over again, clearly on a chain smoking spree. “Y’want?” He asked, stopping in his tracks. Those lean fingers of his calloused to the bone holding out a fresh cigarette in your direction. A cigarette that he’d been saving for you just in case.

You looked around for a moment, not quite sure what to do. The coast seemed to be clear though. Margie looked busy with some of the kids. Had a cluster of ‘em around her with her finger wagging about in every which direction. With her eyes no longer trained on Benny and you, and your form more than halfway across the school yard, you figured it wouldn’t hurt. Besides, you were having a day and could really use a cigarette. “Sure.” You shrugged nonchalantly.

Benny re-adjusted his stance, shoulders straight as he sauntered the sidewalk to meet you against the fence. His rough knuckles brushed across your polished ballet slipper fingers as he passed you the cigarette though the honeycomb, a sweetness shooting up your arm in an instance. You left it sticking out for a moment so he could light it up for you, and you could feel his hot breath fanning against your face. The casual interaction felt rather intimate in the moment, and you were more than happy when you got to take a step back on your first drag.

“Thanks,” you voiced your appreciation as he popped a fresh cig against his lips, now lighting up his own. You couldn’t help but notice that he had a sweet little freckle etched into his bottom lip. No wonder he had beautiful lips, you thought.

Surely, they’d be sweet to the kiss.

Jutting your hip out, you tapped your foot against the dry grass in impatience. “You stalkin’ me or somethin’?” You ripped off the bandage then, getting right into the real stuff. It was too hot out to sugarcoat anything any longer. Plus, the more you stood here the more Marg would get curious, and you’d be caught slacking on the job.

His lip curled up to the side naturally, just like it had yesterday when you introduced yourself to him. “Ain’t a stalker,” he confirmed, re-pocketing his lighter.

You found his candid response refreshing’. Naturally a honey rumblin’ laugh tumbled out of you “Good to ‘ear. My co-worker y’see ‘round over there?” Flicking the residue on the end of your cigarette out of the way, you pointed at her simultaneously. “She thinks ya are. Doesn’t appreciate the loitering.”

He shook his head then, long pretty eyelashes fanning his lower lids as he puckered his lips against the cig. His eyes squinted across the campus for only a second until his gaze landed right back on you. You in another denim overall number with a whole new canvas of embroidered fun. This time, knowing that you were gonna be out in the yard come afternoon, you opted on a classic jean overall. There was always the possibility of having to kneel on the grassy ground or near the sand pit, having to scoop up a youngin’ that refused to leave the playground. You learned your lesson rather quickly within your first few months of teaching. Tripping over yourself in such a situation left a tear in your favorite skirt. A skirt you still frowned about every time you found a certain piece in your closet that would make the perfect pair.

Funnily enough, if Benny knew of such a thing he would’ve made sure the same exact piece of clothing was at your doorstep and back in your closet before the thought crossed your sweet little mind.

But you didn’t know that. Not yet, that is.

And Benny — well Benny wasn’t payin’ as much attention as he would’ve liked to what you were sayin’, and he wasn’t quite interested in Margie anyways. His interests lied with you, and in his defense, the sight of you in your heart shaped sunnies wasn't helping the cause one bit. It was hard to take you seriously when you looked that stinkin’ cute. Made him wanna put you in his jacket pocket for safe keeping. And hell was he itching to just drive his bike right through the fuckin’ fence to break the barrier between you two. He was still beatin’ himself up for not taking your hand when you offered it to him yesterday. Hence why he was here, stakin’ you out. Hoping to fix his mistake.

Because the last thing he ever wanted to do was fuck this up with you.

Instead of enertainin’ your comment or makin’ a move to leave upon your far from subtle hints, far from linear to your own wishes, he changed the topic completely. “What time y’get outta ‘ere?”

You took a long drag of your cigarette, to calm your anxieties. The smoke circled ‘round your face for a moment before it traveled across the fence, reachin’ for Benny. Ironically, it was as if the smoke mirrored your desires of clinging onto the man in front of you. “‘round the same time as the girls, a little after,” you replied, curiosity adding, “what’s it to ya?”

“Wanna go for a ride?” He inquired casually. As if he was just stoppin’ by and hadn’t been sitting here for a good three quarters of the school day waitin’ for you.

The simple question spilling from those pretty lips of his made you melt in an instant. If it wasn’t for the obvious heat as a buffer to such a state, your mind would’ve found him as the culprit. “Where?”

“‘round.” He shrugged, not offering much of a plan. His casual demeanor remained concrete to his form.

An innocent smirk stretched across your face, blooming the apples of your cheeks and creasing the plane of your forehead. Now you were the one to flex amusement against a cylinder wedged between honey glossed lips. Now Benny was the one to be somewhat grateful for the honeycomb — if you will. Cause if the fence wasn’t there, he knew he wouldn’t be able to contain himself. He’d have your honey gloss all over his lips, tasting your sweetness without a second thought. Without caring about Margie or the students on the playground. Without caring about anyone really, but you.

Always you.

Perhaps anyone else would be rather suspicious of a plan with really no plan at all. Sure Margie would need a bulleted itinerary on fresh stationary, color coated and attached to a clipboard respectfully. But you — no, you appreciated his carefree mentality. It was peaceful in comparison to the stressing atmosphere that surround you on a daily basis, dotting on the kiddos in your classes, worryin’ constantly about ‘em.

Two could play this game, you thought.

Just at the end of your cigarette, your pretty fingers reached between a ring in the honeycomb, motioning it back to him. “Would ya put this out f’me?” You asked sweetly, mascara coated lashes batting about behind those obvious heart eyes of yours. “Don’t want the kids to find it in the grass.”

“Mhm,” Benny hummed, finding your concern for this children too fuckin’ cute. How could he ever say no to a sweet thang like you? He just couldn’t.

Your fingers grazed his as he took it from you, a touch that you found yourself thanking your faith for allowing you to bask in again.

This time he not only put out his cigarette, but yours too in the garden of buds that would blossom into a metaphor. A metaphor that had you joining his crew. Becoming a part of the club, joining his family, and fulfilling your wifely duties of planting a seed or two more along the way. Growin’ Benny some baby honeys of your very own.

Your lack of a reply to his offer didn’t sway him by any means, only fueled his fire tenfold. Turning on his heel then, you couldn’t help but frown, thinkin’ your hesitance turned him impatient and over the prospect completely. Especially when you watched him mount his bike and rev the engine, ready to ride away without another word. But Benny — no he still had somethin’ to say, and he was gonna say it alright. “I’ll see ya out front after school, Honey.” He decided, “I’ll be waitin’.”

The sound of your nickname rolling off his tongue — as smooth as honey sliding down your throat in a soothing tea — was all you needed to make your decision.

With your fun little backpack — straps resting against your shoulders — absolutely decked out in pins and keychains alike, you’d spot him at dismissal, and he’d be waitin’. Waitin’ for you to come. Wonderin’ if you were comin’.

Askin’ himself ‘Honey, are you comin’?’

Of course you would. You always would with Benny, no matter what.

And when you mounted his bike, your body molding into his like you were made for him, and your hands wrapping around his waist, Benny’s mistake proved to be no more. Suddenly, everything felt right in the world.

Right because you were one step closer to being his honey.

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hi-ya, i hope you enjoyed part 2! there’s so much more to come. expect a from the hive 🎙️🐝 installment real soon :)

also to note, my requests are open for any miss honey x benny cross works + any convos about these two in general. don’t be shy honey, i’m all for yapping in the asks.

+ don’t forget to comment if you’d like be added to “da bee hive” (my version of da tag list)

smoochies. all da love xanadu 💋

da bee hive 🐝

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#miss honey x benny cross #benny cross x reader #the bikeriders fanfiction #benny cross #johnny davis #the bikeriders #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #tom hardy #residue da series #johnny the bikeriders #benny the bikeriders #da bee hive 🐝#from the hive 🎙️🐝

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zirconika · 7 months ago

Text

PART ONE

⇚ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST

This chapter is part of a two-part fic entitled 'Chivalry is Dead.' Click the link to view the series masterlist!

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader WORDS: 5.8k SUMMARY: You’re smitten with the archer you meet at the quarry who doesn’t believe in romance, vowing to make him yours, but it eventually becomes frustrating when he’s never clear with what he wants. WARNINGS: fluff. angst with comfort, then angst with no comfort. reader is very flirty with daryl. SETTING: the quarry, the farm, and the prison

I. A CHANGE OF SCENERY - THE QUARRY

Prim and proper, clean-shaven, wears an authentic watch, bothers to use cufflinks, gets a neat haircut often, works in corporate…

You liked your men worthy of an introduction to your family. The kind of guy who you could, with no shame, flaunt to your family. A guy who would do well in the role of a sweet, loving husband and father in the comfort of the suburban home you built together.

Shame that they’re pretty hard to come by lately, not to mention that it doesn’t even matter anymore—

“…Y’know what I mean?” you rambled to the archer who had a permanent scowl itched on his face. Unbeknownst to you thanks to your drunken stupor, he’d been listening to you going off about your type.

He watched as you held an almost empty bottle of alcohol pressed to your chest, your eyes manning the space around you as if you were talking to a crowd of people. Much to your luck, the rest of the people had eventually retreated to their own tents, leaving you to the company of this — sorta cute — redneck.

“Like, where do you think I could even get them these days?” you laughed, your eyes going back to him. “But then, like, y’know, it doesn’t even matter ‘coz I got my family killed! And I didn’t even do anything, I just ran like a fucking coward.”

Daryl decided an hour and a half ago that he’d up and go off to somewhere else, maybe to hunt. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave in concern for the drunk woman beside him who’d sooner or later become another hunter’s prey. Maybe even the undead’s.

Pain in ‘ma ass, he’d thought to himself while watching you with a scowl as he sank back down to the log in front of the campfire.

“I could use a bar of chocolate, but… This is the closest thing.” You made to gulp down more of the alcohol, but he reached out to snag it away from your hands. You yelled at the archer. “What are you—!”

“‘Yer a fuckin’ idiot,” he spat, setting the bottle aside. Daryl met your bewildered gaze, and he was certain you wouldn’t even remember it the next day. “Ain’t no reason blamin’ yourself for somethin’ ya couldn’t prevent. And ‘yer worried about all the wrong things, too! I’s out there huntin’ and I couldn’t care less ‘bout what kind’a girl I’d snag, I actually worried ‘bout somethin’ that matters! Like the fuck the camp’s gonna eat, which one of us would those stinking geeks get next and—!”

Daryl zipped his mouth shut for a good moment, realizing he’d said too much. Oh, fuck. He was thinking of ways to save this. He didn’t have an inkling on how to comfort a girl, much less a drunk and crying one. Your eyes turned glassy, your face contorting to…

“Pfft!” you laughed, further confusing the archer before you. He watched as you leaned backward, laughing. It was sort of a relief to watch and to hear; some great change of scenery to what he’d grown accustomed to seeing on the daily. “Y’know the” — you hiccuped — “funny thing about the guys I used to date? They ended up screwin’ some other pretty girl looking for the same guy as me. See, I cracked the code!”

You blinked a couple of times. Daryl remained silent. You couldn’t help but giggle as you leaned closer to the archer, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth in his chest as you came closer, your nose closing in on a couple of inches away from his.

A buzzing sensation crawled from your chest to your cheeks, warming your face up as you felt something begging to be unleashed from within you—a confession, perhaps?

He got a good whiff of the alcohol from your dry lips as you opened your mouth to speak. “I should’ve been looking for someone like you!”

Daryl felt heat rush to his cheeks. He wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing: Good because you considered him worthy of being chosen or bad because that would mean he was the opposite of everything you thought was ideal in a partner?

Why did it matter to him?

You leaned closer. “Better yet, I think that you’re—”

The warmth he could feel inside of his chest was now outside too, pouring on the surface of his shirt with alcohol and bile mixing in the humid air of the night.

“Fucking hell!” he cursed in a whisper as your body slumped forward, passing out asleep on his lap. Daryl would have done the same as you if somebody told him that that night was the beginning of an epic love story.

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The following days went by like a blur, with Daryl’s suspicion that you recalled everything dissolving into the relief that maybe you really had no idea what happened that night. You acted normal the day after that brilliant occasion, save for groggy eyes that lasted the entire day as well as a visible temper.

You paid him no mind the entire time, but he assumed you were just embarrassed for confrontation. However, the entire week passed and you made no comment whatsoever about what transpired.

His eyes always lingered on you a second longer than he’d intend to in an attempt to get a glimpse of embarrassment. He’d been meaning to tease you about it as revenge, but… Looks like you’ve forgotten. He probably should, too.

This very relief went away when you volunteered to come along with him to hunt for food. “I’m coming along, you should teach me how to use your crossbow,” you said, dagger in hand.

He wanted to argue, but worried he’d say something that would trigger your memory, he only nudged his nose up as a nod.

The entire walk in the woods would have been a painful silence if not for the rustling of leaves in the trees and the subtle whistle of the wind.

You watched the broad shouldered archer before you made his way with calculated steps, even while you couldn't yet pinpoint a target. “Well, aren’t you stealthy?”

Daryl spared a glare your way. “Why’d ya go huntin’ anyway? And with a blunt knife at that—are ya and idiot or somethin’?”

“‘Cause I was thinking maybe you should teach me your weapon of choice.” You looked at him as if he said something mad. “Didn’t I just say that, like, two minutes ago?”

He noticed that you said ‘should’ instead of ‘could.’

“Let me get this straight,” the archer started, halting, and you knew a scowl would greet you before he even faced you. “Ya went into the woods to hunt, but ya don’t even have a clue how?”

“Oh, honey, I didn’t say I needed you to teach me how to hunt. Didn’t even say I was gonna hunt.” You stepped closer to him. You noticed he took a subtle step back, and you couldn’t help but grin. Could it be that this rugged gentleman is nervous? “I said I wanted you to teach me how to use your crossbow.”

He cleared his throat, pulling back his armor of a scowl matched with an anger that was certainly uncalled for. “Oh, yeah? It’s fuckin’ stupid of ya to think I go around grantin’ everybody’s requests! And I ain’t gonna just stand here and take this, hunt by yourself.”

Daryl turned around, a casual swagger to his walk. You had to smirk at his back, knowing what he’d do next once you hit him with your first ammunition: intel. “I know something you stood for and took like a champ.”

The archer froze.

“Thanks, by the way. And sorry you had to deal with that!” you exclaimed. “See, between the two of us, I’m not the stupid one. You could’ve used that against me, but you didn’t. And that just made me more interested in you—like, wow! You’re a lot more of a gentleman than you think you are.”

Oh, Daryl was pissed. Why were you the one making fun of him when it’s you who should’ve been abashed by what happened? “You remembered all along and ya didn’t say sorry?”

“I just did,” you said blankly.

Daryl faced you, shaking his head in a stubborn way. “Nah, ‘ya didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did. I said ‘sorry you had to deal with that.’”

He scoffed. “Doesn’t count.”

“Does too!” you spat back, this time grinning at the archer. You couldn’t help but laugh at his growing frown. “Come on, if you could take that with dignity, surely a crossbow lesson with Coach Daryl can’t be that bad.”

“Why do ya even want one? Thought ya said it wasn’t practical, righ’?” he asked, recalling all the times you called his weapon all kinds of things when you were drunk: “It’s way too heavy and takes up arm space! Can’t fit it in a pocket! It looks like a toy!”

You laughed out loud from his poor attempts at imitating you. Daryl felt the slightest tinge of embarrassment. He wanted to cup his own cheeks to make sure he wasn’t imagining the heat in there, worried he’d gone red. And if he did, he hoped you’d mistake it for the effect of the Georgia sun.

“Yeah, I did say that,” you said as-a-matter-of-factly.

Daryl raised a brow. “So why want it?”

You stepped forward again, taunting him. “Because I have a thing for the guy giving the lessons.”

The warmth that paid him a visit that one fateful night made its presence clearer, this time from the burrows of his chest. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“I ain’t interested,” he said. Daryl was all things, but not a liar. This time, though, he might just be one.

Although he was looking down at you, he felt as if he was the one being challenged from above. He gulped.

This time, you raised a brow at him. “Oh, you’re not into girls?”

“I—”

“I’m kidding. Y’know I thought the same, maybe you weren’t interested in me.”

Daryl shrugged, composing himself in an attempt to restore the dynamic he had in his head where he could be in a position where he could intimidate you. He couldn’t. “Yeah, ‘cause I ain’t.”

You continued to ramble on. “I was thinking, hey, maybe this guy doesn’t have any feelings for me!”

He put his hands on his hips, challenging you. But you weren’t quick to back down from a fight. “‘Cause I don’t.”

“Right,” you mused. “Didn’t you bring me a warm cup of tea the day after to help with my hangover?”

He watched you with question, but he worried you’d see the static coming from his chest and spreading to his arms. “Yeah, that woman Carol asked me to.”

“Huh,” you scoffed with a smile, ready for the look on his face to come and indicate your victory. “Funny. I was ready to ignore what happened, think of your kindness as nothing but kindness. But see, I came by sweet Carol’s tent to thank her but imagine my surprise when she said ‘What tea’?”

He had no answer to that. Usually, Daryl was a man who could think on his feet. Heck, you expected him to have some brilliant excuse. He was a hunter, after all. It was natural of him to think quickly.

You licked your lips, staring at his with that smirk of yours he wanted so badly to wipe off. “I’m gonna court you, Daryl Dixon. And you’re gonna say yes.”

The archer grunted, swinging his beloved weapon across his shoulder, shaking his head in denial. “I ain’t ever sayin’ yes to anything.”

“Sure, not today, not tomorrow, but a little push and I know I can get to you.”

Daryl spit somewhere on the dead soil surrounding you as he walked off to the trees. “Nah, never.”

As he disappeared into the forest, you couldn’t help but grin, feeling confident. You saw that moment of weakness. Somehow, some part of you knew it would happen. “Never say never, Daryl Dixon!”

You saw his middle finger raised just before he disappeared further, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Game on, archer.

It went on like that for a while. Daryl said he hated it, that ‘allat romance crap’s worth nothin.’ Still, those little slip-ups in his expressions and gait let you know that there was an opening there somewhere.

He did start teaching you how to use his crossbow, and the first time you were able to shoot a deer with it, you felt as if his silence was born from both his shock and the fact that he was possibly impressed.

“I can feel your boner from here, Dixon,” you smirked as you carried his crossbow with you as you began to walk over to your successful capture.

“Shuddup,” he said in response. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was definitely thrown off by how he was feeling watching you walking with his weapon.

“Help me with this,” you said, grabbing the animal by its hind legs. “Carry the deer so the gang could see how kickass I look with your crossbow. No wonder you like it, it makes me feel sexy.”

When you faced the archer, you raised a brow. He’d been staring and out of focus longer than he intended to be, not that he did. You smirk at this.

“You’re starting to like me,” you said, pointing at him with an accusatory finger. “You were staring.”

“Nuh uh,” he said, composing himself as he hurried to haul the animal over his shoulder.

“Is it the crossbow? ‘Cause I get it. I look at you with it and I think, ‘Oh, now that’s a man.’” You adjust the crossbow on your shoulder as Daryl watches you with confusion and… Maybe admiration? “I’m gonna do an experiment. This is hot.”

You move the crossbow to your hands, extending it outwards, posing for him with a slouch. “Not hot.”

You kept going on; hot with the crossbow, not hot for the crossbow. Until Daryl stopped you.

“Yer wastin’ time, yours and mine, when yer hot either way.” Daryl froze. So did you. His eyes widened, his cheeks redder than ever. “Not hot. Either way. Hey, I—!”

“You think I’m hot! You said I—!” you exclaim. Daryl clasped his clean hand over your mouth, pushing you against the tree.

“They’re gonna hear ya.”

No walker came by. You could hear nothing but Daryl’s breath and yours, at least until he dropped his hand.

On the walk back to camp, you were grinning the entire way. Daryl remained silent, afraid he’d say something that you could use against him.

“That was a Freudian slip,” you said with a snort.

Daryl wanted to argue, but knowing he couldn’t trust himself with talking, he kept his words short. “A what?”

“You subconsciously said something you actually meant. I get it, really.” You make a show of holding his crossbow. “I like you, you like me. But then you feel embarrassed that I’m going after you before you could go after me because you feel weird about a woman pursuing you even though you clearly really have the hots for her.”

He fought to keep his face stoic. “Nah, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Alrigh,” Daryl said just to end the conversation.

“Alright as in yes you do?” you tease the archer.

Daryl smirked, determined to get you to admit defeat on your mission to pursue him. “Alrigh’ as in I don’t care.”

But you weren’t a quitter. He’d shown a glimpse of how he felt, and you were determined to get it out of him. By the time you reached camp, you handed his crossbow over to him with a glimmer in your eyes.

“You seemed to enjoy having your hands on me just a couple of minutes ago.” You flip him off as you walk away to go help out with the rest of the people in the camp. “See ya, Dixon.”

Though he wouldn’t show it, Daryl would rather sleep in the woods alone, weaponless than admit that he did.

It wasn’t just that. He didn’t hate the things you were doing to him and for him. He hated that he wished he thought of pursuing you sooner so he’d have the upper hand. . .

Nah, nah, I don’t. He shook his head to himself.

But it became harder to deny whenever you went out of your way to do something for him, especially when he lost his brother. When he mourned Merle, you were there. And you weren’t a menace like he thought you would be.

You were just. . .there. Giving him the bigger half of whatever food you had, lingering just ever so near, and more. Daryl was surprised to realize that he enjoyed your company.

He knew he was fucked. Especially when he realized he missed you flirting with him, but he’d never tell you that.

II. NICE - GREENE FARM

Looking for a missing child was way easier when there were no corpses roaming the land of the living, back when there was no need to distinguish what’s alive and what’s not. You were hoping that Sophia would turn up as soon as possible.

You felt a twinge of guilt realizing that your hope for the child being found was just Daryl’s return, but it wasn’t like that at all. It wasn’t that you had this silly crush on the archer. Yes, you did, but you needed the right time to talk to him about what happened at the CDC.

You’d never felt so mortified. For the longest time, you’ve been saying that you wanted to accept death in exchange for peace. You always thought that when the time comes, you’d be ready. It was a fucked up way to realize that you weren’t, and you found yourself out of breath, unable to chase your breathing.

Daryl was hysterical, but upon seeing you, he immediately rushed in front of you, cupping your face with his rough hands.

“We’re gettin’ outta here alive,” he’d told you as your chest heaved from realizing you were nearing your doom. He then held you against his chest, his calloused fingers caressing your hair with the most gentle care, as if holding you wrong would cause you to break. You weren’t able to process the rest, but you remembered him at first assisting you in walking until he eventually carried you in his arms out of the facility right before it deteriorated.

You never got to speak to him since then except for when you encountered the herd on the road. He just asked if you were okay, and that was it.

He’d been preoccupied looking for Sophia ever since. You didn’t want to assume that he’d only been looking for her just because that would make you the biggest insensitive asshole in the world.

Just then, a young blonde girl came out of the house, a tray in hand.

“Hi,” she said. You could tell right from how she held herself that she was of good nature. “I’m Beth. I brought you some tea and some oatmeal.”

A small smile came on your face, and you couldn’t help but let it grow brighter when you watched the girl realize why.

“Oh, I gave this to you on my own—nevermind,” she sighed. “He told me not to tell you ‘cause he said you were—”

“A pain in his ass?” you teased with a grin. “Verbatim?”

Beth considered what she was going to say, but she eventually smiled as well as she set it on the small stool table beside the rocking chair you were sitting on while you stared in the distance. “Well, yes.”

You laughed together with the girl. It was easy to talk to her, you felt light.

“But he also told me to watch after you.”

You waved your hand, dismissing Daryl’s order to the girl. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. In fact, we should share this oatmeal. It looks good!”

Beth gave you the warmest smile anyone’s ever given you for the past week. “No, I’m okay. He specifically told me to make sure you eat enough. Said he’d bring in something later for you later.”

This time, heat rushed to your cheeks. You stuffed it down. “I’m pretty sure the meat’s for all of us, just including me.”

“I don’t know,” Beth said, leaning against the railing of the house’s front porch. The air certainly felt different in the farm compared to every other place you’ve been to. The sun was setting, and the view of the sky could make anyone oblivious to the newfound horrors of the world. “He was talking about how you needed it, but my dad said you weren’t in need of any medicine. You just needed to eat somethin. And if you needed something for your headache, we have it.”

“I see,” you said, your shoulders sinking. “He’s probably just avoiding me.”

Beth faced you, confused. “Why would he do that?”

“Well, that’s Daryl.” You shrugged, thinking back to what he’d done for you at the CDC. You could almost feel his arms carrying you again, and you couldn’t help but feel the heat in your cheeks return. You instinctively look down.

Beth noticed your brow furrowing just before you reached out to feel your temple. “Do you need anything?”

“Sorry you have to take care of me,” you say with an apologetic smile. “Just whatever you have for headaches and a decent sleep.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You awoke around the middle of the night to the door to your room shutting closed. At first, you thought that someone came in only to find that you were completely alone. You then heard the faint sound of footsteps walking down the stairs just outside.

Stirring awake, you sit up straight to rub your eyes. Outside, the sky was dark. You must’ve slept for around eight hours, because you could no longer feel sleep returning easily. The urge was there, but you knew sinking back into a deep sleep would be for nothing.

You yawn and scratch at your neck. On the nightstand to your right, you’re relieved to find a glass of water. But what stole your attention was what sat right next to it.

You were surprised to find three packs of chocolates: KitKat Bars, Kisses, and Hershey’s. There were also some packs of M&Ms.

Thinking back to the footsteps rushing down the stairs just a minute ago, you hurriedly carried all of the chocolates with you and ran down the stairs as lightly as you could so as to not wake anyone.

You swung the screen door open, trudging down the stairs of the porch. You reach Daryl just before he enters the tent. You chuck the pack of KitKats to his head, to which he yelped. “Ow!”

“Do you like me?” you ask directly.

The archer faces you, picking up the pack of KitKats you threw at him. “What’d ya do that for?”

“Do you like me?” you ask, firmer this time.

There’s that pause. That two-second, lingering, suffocating pause. “I don’t.”

But that pause meant maybe. Both of you knew it, he just didn’t want to admit it, like he always does. Annoyed, you throw the rest of the chocolates to his feet. “Then you shouldn’t be doing things that make it seem like you do!”

You don’t know if it was the painkillers or just your interrupted sleep, but you definitely felt your temper controlling you.

“I was bein’ nice.”

“Nice is opening the door for someone. Nice is handing the water pitcher at the dinner table. Nice is not asking someone to take care of me while you’re away, nice is not you bringing me chocolates like it’s Valentine’s to cheer me up when you know damn well how I feel about you. Nice is not making me feel like you feel the same and then take it back then just act like you do feel the same again!”

Daryl stood there, taking it all.

You rubbed at your eyes, your shoulders slumping. You feel a lump in your throat and your eyes begin to water. You stare at him for three seconds before turning around to return inside when he grabs you by the wrist to pull you into that same embrace he’d wrapped you into that day at the CDC.

He was warm. God, he was warm. You hated that your body craved the press of his.

He held you until you stopped crying. Until, for some reason, you were holed up in his tent, eating the chocolates he got for you while the two of you talked about everything and nothing.

You realized how easy it was to speak to Daryl, too. How it came naturally, and how you felt comfortable being yourself around him outside of the flirting. Maybe it really was better to remain friends.

You were just being nice to each other. But if Daryl really did feel an ounce of what you felt, then that wouldn’t be very nice of him.

For a while, you accepted that. You stopped pursuing him altogether and maintained a respectable distance with him. He then always seemed to be everywhere you went, but you told yourself you were in over your head thinking he’d ever even feel the same way.

III. RETURN - PRISON

Life was good. Save for the nightmare that was facing the Governor, of course. The last time you felt a grudge against him was when he left with his brother, but you stopped yourself from feeling anything. After all, that was his brother and you were…

A friend. He’d apologized leaving by bringing you more chocolates from his run. Things have been good lately. You loved being friends with Daryl.

Sure, you’d find yourself in feats of attraction towards the guy ever so often, like the time he carried baby Judith. . .

That was something.

It didn’t help that he was looking at you while he was carrying her, even playing with her and showing her to you. You hated that even though you say you feel nothing anymore, sometimes everything resurfaces.

If only you knew what was going through his mind when he passed baby Judith to you.

Those were little tests that failed to weaken your belief that you were better off as friends. You survived them. Yep, you were fine being friends. It was just a silly crush anyway.

“[Y/N],” Daryl called from outside your cell. “[Y/N], we’re heading out to get some meds, ‘ya need anythin’? Chocolates again, maybe?”

You were covered in two blankets head neck to toe, your back to the cell door. You said nothing, much less did anything to indicate you heard him. Daryl stepped inside, feeling bad that he’d crossed over but he somehow felt like he had to.

“[Y/N]?”

By the second Daryl laid his hands on your shoulder to tap you, he knew he had to turn you over. You were shivering in your half-sleep, and yet when Daryl pressed the back of his palm against you, you were burning up.

“Jesus, you’re—!”

“I think I caught it,” you said. You try to sit up, and Daryl helps you up. You turn the other way to cough. “I was gonna bring myself to the quarantine cell block, but I couldn’t stand up.”

“Here, I got ‘ya,” he said, helping you up. “You sure ‘ya don’t wanna stay here in your cell instead?”

You shook your head. “I could turn and infect everyone. I—”

“Hey.” He cupped your cheek with his hand, gently tapping it to keep you in check. “You’re not gonna turn, I’m not gonna let that happen to ‘ya. I’m goin’ out and gettin’ ‘ya the meds, then yer gonna be fine.”

“Well, that’s awfully nice of you,” you said drunkenly. On the way to the isolated block, you feel yourself losing your step… Losing your consciousness…

“[Y/N]? [Y/N]!”

And it all went dark.

The days that followed promised a new routine. After the supply run, you were the first stop Daryl visited. He talked to you, took care of you. He’d tell you stories about him and his brother Merle. You’d tell him about the guys you dated and every single terrible date experience you’ve had.

“Yeah, you said you hated dating ‘em. So you wanted to date guys like me instead, y’know, the kind you’d be embarrassed to introduce to your ma and pa.”

You laughed. “Oh, come on. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Friends, friends, friends. That’s how it is, how it should’ve been right from the start. It’s so easy to laugh with Daryl, so easy to be with him.

That was until you got better. You were out, making the rounds.

“Ya shouldn’t be here,” he’d told you when he caught you walking the perimeter with a revolver. “At least not yet. I’ll take over from here.”

“Nah, somehow I feel way sicker when I’m not doing anything.”

He shrugged. “You could read a book.”

“Oh, yeah?” you chuckled.

“Oh, yeah.”

Silence again. It was just the two of you in the dead of night, and you wondered if you only imagined the flurry of emotions back then when you were separated when you got sick.

You wanted to stay there in that moment forever, just standing in the dark with Daryl. But you felt a sort of suffocating sensation the moment you thought of him fondly. You were a bit sleepy anyway.

“Actually, maybe I should go.” Yawning, you stuff the revolver back to your holster. “Good night, Daryl.”

You only got to walk past him a couple of steps before he spoke.

“[Y/N]?” he called out to you just before you were about to return to your quarters. You felt sleep about to take you in deeply, but you fought it off, telling yourself it’ll be quick.

You face the archer, raising an interrogative brow in response.

For some strange, mundane reason, you found him extra lovely tonight. You were forced to discover why as he leaned forward, pressing his lips into yours in the most gentle way he could. You pull away.

There’s a question in your eyes, and so he only kisses you again in response. You kiss him back, this time with desperation. You don’t know where to put your hands, overwhelmed by this gust of exhilaration washing over you as his hands caress the nape of your neck.

He pulls away this time.

You couldn’t believe it. So many thoughts ran into your head. Pursuing Daryl used to be something you were just looking forward to as a challenge, maybe even just for the sole purpose of enjoying a fling knowing the end is near.

But you got to know him. He got to know you, and you let him. You felt heat rush to your cheeks, bringing them high enough for the most genuine grin to show in your face. “Does this mean—?”

“Nah.” He takes a step backward, and your grin instantly dissolves into a frown at the sight of him shaking his head. “No, I…”

What?

You shake your head in disbelief.

What the fuck?

Your smile faltered further. The butterflies in your stomach you thought you felt suddenly felt as if you were about to throw it up again.

“No?” you utter in disbelief, the taste of his lips still stuck somewhere in your mouth. You step backward as well, staring into space as you touched the lips of yours he’d just kissed with so much passion, opposite to the coldness he’d brought upon you with that one word. The rush from the kiss was being drowned by an otherworldly anger threatening to be unleashed. “What the—No?”

You turn your focus to him again. He says nothing, his back to you as he stares into the dark greenery outside of the fence.

“You make me chase after you like a fool and ‘No’?”

Daryl sunk into himself. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve anything you gave him. He didn’t know what to say. “I didn’t ask ‘ya to.”

He wanted to disappear.

“Right.” You had to laugh. “Turn around. Face me.”

The archer obliged, and you couldn’t read his face enough through the tears born from your anger. He hated that he wanted to grab you by the waist and pull you into another kiss, to press his lips against your neck and down to your chest. He wanted to caress your hair, to—

“Back at the CDC, I wanted to stop pursuing you. But then” — his heart broke as your voice cracked — “you held my hand when we found out we could die and you looked at me with those fucking eyes of yours on your goddamn face and I thought maybe there was something real, something I could get out of you if I tried hard enough.”

“We’re gettin’ outta here alive,” he’d told you as your chest heaved from realizing you were nearing your doom. He held you against his chest, his calloused fingers caressing your hair with the most gentle care, as if holding you wrong would cause you to break.

“Then you were cold again, and I thought maybe you were just being kind like usual back then but you—argh! You got me chocolates when I was scared shitless from almost dying and called it being nice and friendly before holding me again!”

You rubbed your eyes, frustrated more than ever.

“You just had to take advantage of the fact that I’m weak for you! You nursed me back to health when I got sick, you spoke to me as if you felt the same way, just—everything! You say you didn’t ask me to chase after you but when I did stop, you find ways to get me back on your trail and now you kiss me and then you take it back?”

You felt your heart begging to be freed. You couldn’t breathe. The lump in your throat was building up, and you knew it did its work once you felt your cheeks begin to wet.

You couldn’t even see him clearly through your tears. “What the fuck do you want, Daryl?”

How could he tell you? What could he say? He didn’t even know what he wanted. Still, you waited in hopes he’d give you an explanation. That he’d at least explain himself.

“Do you like me?” you ask him again. No response.

You steel yourself for what you were about to ask next.

“Do you love me?”

Silence.

“God, I’m so stupid."

Realizing the chance you gave him is all for naught, you shook your head with a mirthless laugh as you walked away. The embrace of sleep never returned, and you were left to stare at the ceiling, waiting for daybreak to come just so you could fight an unwinnable war.

i'm still building my blog. so for now, just send me an ask to be added to my taglist :)

TAGLIST: @vaniniweenie @avabh12 @stinkygirl009

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bluefootedbooby · 5 months ago

Note

I'm glad you're back! Could you possibly write some fluff for Jinx with a s/o that's pretty nervous overall? She seems a bit bolder, so I think it'd be a cute dynamic!

Nervous Wreck

enjoy :>

💙

You’ve never seen Jinx calm, she was always bouncing off the walls one way or another. It is a miracle you two can even date when she is constantly putting herself at risk and worrying your brain to its brink! But yet you made it work, you love her after all.

You were spending another night with your girlfriend, sleeping on her shoddy sewn sheets when you woke to use the bathroom, only to find your blue haired beauty wasn’t sleeping next to you. Alarm bells rang in your head! Where could she be? Is she hurt? Did she run off? You quickly rushed around to try and find her, instantly gravitating towards her workshop to, of course, find her at her work bench welding together pieces of metal at three in the morning.

Your tight chest finally expelled the tension, now just replaced with anger. Jinx has paused her welding a moment to grab new pieces which is when you came over and tapped firmly on her shoulder. She spun around, lifting her giggled off her head with a smile.

“Toots! Whaddaya doing up? It’s late!”

Oh the nerve! You could be asking her the same damn thing. An angry scowl covered your face as your foot tapped on the floor, arms crossed, ready to scold her. But before you could she butted in.

“Sheesh! Okay! I get it! I know, I know, I should be asleep too. But I hadda finish this chomper! You love my chomper! Well you love how they look, not the explody bits, but still! I was only gonna be up for an hour then come back to bed, swear!”

Her words didn’t matter much to you anyways. Nothing but anger derived from your nervous mind filled your expression.

“You scared me. I woke up and you weren’t there! I thought that maybe something happened or you were doing something stupid! And clearly you are!”

Jinx let out a gasp, feigning for offense. But it was quickly followed by a smile and chuckle.

“It’s not stupid! Okay okay, tell you what. I really needa get this done so… Why don’t you sit next to me and to calm your mind watch me work. Yeah? Then we can go back to bed, should only take thirty minutes!”

You thought about the offer a moment. Jinx wasn’t gonna go back to bed until the chomper was done anyways so might as well, you wouldn’t be able to sleep either knowing she could potentially hurt herself. With a sigh you nodded and took the seat next to her.

“There we go — Now! Look at this! I fixed the hinges so the chomping is less squeaky! Huh? Pretty neat!”

You smiled softly, eyes rolling as you leaned in to listen to her rambles.

———

💙

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane fanfic #jinx x reader #jinx x fem reader #jinxarcane #jinx x y/n #jinx x you

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moonsaver · 11 months ago

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hiyaaa! its me again!! omg is it just me or is there just NO robin x reader content like, at all???

please please please!! if you don't mind, please give me your robin romantic headcanons?

an extra add on food for thought: what do you think would happen if both siblings happen to pine after the same person?

Hello dear inbox visitor! I think it would be better if you sent it during while requests were open, since it kind of teeters on the line between thoughts vs requests haha. Anyways, you're right. We dont have enough x robin content :(

Lets try and fix it!

Robin seems like a very attentive lover, which is surprising considering how busy she would be since she's a popstar.

During conversations or small talk, passing phrases, she makes sure to listen to you lovingly,and makes note of all the small things about you.

To me, I think she'd be the type of person who puts your name as just a pink heart icon, and notes down all the things you like in the description of your contact. She also has a separate notes tab for other things like your wishlist items, things she's noticed about you, and so on.

She's optimistic, but not unrealistic. If you're the overthinker type, she grounds you flawlessly. She's very rational and sorts things out carefully with you, sitting you down gently and discusses everything on your mind with you. Gives you a lovely, soft smile when you stop overthinking and come to a solution with a relaxed sigh.

Surprisingly sensitive to physical contact. She's not touch-starved, nor averse to it, but still is unused to it for the most part. However, she likes holding hands very often. She'd be very happy if you rubbed your thumb over her knuckles. Often takes off her glove just to hold your hand. I feel like her hands would be pleasantly cold. She squeaks slightly when you kiss her face! Then giggles. She likes the feeling of you peppering her face in kisses.

Lets you touch her wings often, and they are incredibly soft. They smell pleasantly of flowers, and sometimes she flutters them on your face to make you giggle. She doesn't mind if you mess them up a bit, as long as it's not before a concert.

If you have hair long enough to braid, she'll want to do that. She has cute little accessories on her that she uses whenever you let her, cute clips and hair ties that she uses for you specifically. She also really likes it when you braid her hair. She doesn't care if it's not pretty, she just likes that you're the one doing it.

Often, I imagine she gets overwhelmed with the amount of people working on her appearances that sometimes she just asks them to leave and has you help her work on her appearance. It could just be feedback and she'll appreciate it. She just likes being in your presence whenever she's overwhelmed, which can be often if she's especially out on a tour. If you can't be there physically, she'll want to call you, or replay any voice notes you may have sent previously. She saves them all – date, time, named and even the context behind them. She misses you dearly whenever she's away, just doesn't have the time to even express it.

If you're alright with cosmetics of all kinds, she's a little thrilled. She'll want you to try her perfumes and clothes, too. Kisses you directly if you ask for her lip balm or lipgloss, then giggles at the transferred sheen. Likes trying out new eye palette colors on you, trying out new styles of makeup, and often asks for suggestion on her own outfits. She also adores when you both dress up in matching outfits, and has a neat little album of you two consisting of photos that she takes.

Robin can feel a bit shy asking for affection or doing cute couple-things. She really likes the corny things, like indirect kisses from shared straws, being stared at while she's doing something, being kissed in the rain, dancing together, etc.. she also probably saw you eat a lollipop once, and wanted to ask you for a taste, but got too shy and didn't ask. You have to take the initiative and comfort her into asking for these things.

Anyways, if both siblings pine for the same person.. it's gonna be a little strained. Depends on how much they like the reader respectively, but lets assume both of them are head over heels for reader.

Robin and Sunday pining after the same person may either bring them together or put more strain on their already, slightly distant relationship. I feel like Sunday may either support his sister, convince her to pursue you and share you with him, or guilt trip her into not approaching you. Not even as a yandere, Sunday can be a little manipulative and greedy when it comes to his feelings. Ever since Robin left Sunday alone as the head of the Oak Family, I feel like he would harbor a small amount of apathy or even dislike towards her because of it, and on top of that, if she ends up liking you, he'll feel oddly like you've been stolen from him.

Robin.. won't back off so easily however. She's a smart girl, and even if she obliges to her brother's whims, she knows him better than anyone else. She'll probably stay docile for the most part, though. However, she isn't just a pretty face. Just because she remains docile doesn't mean she's given you up completely to her brother. She'll at least remain stubborn on having you to some degree, even if it means straining their relationship a bit.

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withleeknow · 1 year ago

Text

remedy.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; implies that minho has anxiety, unedited bc i am me and you shouldn't expect much from me lmao word count: 1.2k note: hello hello!! i've been meaning to write this since the day of the rock-star comeback but i'm only getting around to finishing it now lol. but the timing's pretty neat so consider this a christmas present from me and mine to you and yours!! <33

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

when the sun rouses you awake in the morning, you feel two arms loosely wrapped around you that weren't there before you fell asleep last night.

you smile to yourself, enjoying the warmth and comfort that he brings you. home, finally.

you turn in his hold, as gently as you can to not disturb your slumbering minho.

you don’t know when exactly he got back, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours ago. sometimes, when he has night schedules, he doesn’t usually return until the sun is peeking over the horizon. you’re used to him having to work throughout the wee hours of the night every other week. you don’t like it, but you’re used to it.

you expect to find him snoozing peacefully beside you, with his handsome face and his lips parted cutely as he lightly snores, but when you finally shuffle around to look at him, you instantly frown.

a frown that matches his own.

baby, you think, what’s wrong?

even in his sleep, minho’s brows are knitted together, the corners of his mouth tugged downward like he’s having a bad dream. the instant concern that rushes through you parts the hazy fog in your brain, and then... you remember.

it was only half past three in the morning when your phone buzzed to life, the vibrations resounding brassily against the wooden surface of your nightstand. reaching out blindly for the device, you only needed to peek through one eye to scan the time and the caller id before you held it to your ear, your face still smushed against your fluffy pillow.

"hmm?"

"i'm sorry," minho was quick to apologize. "did i wake you?" he sounded rushed, like he had wandered off to a corner to steal a few minutes for himself before having to go back.

you made a noncommittal noise, already feeling the exhaustion luring you back to dreamland. it had been a long week and you'd endured five whole days just to get to the weekend, to be able to spend hours on end with your boyfriend. it'd be just you and him, wrapped up together in your cozy little bubble, all your stresses and troubles kept at bay. he was always the best part of your days, your weeks, your months, even your years.

even though you were drifting, you still managed to ask, "is everything okay?"

"yeah, everything’s fine. i just missed you."

it made you smile nonetheless. he didn’t often disturb you in the middle of the night just to be sappy with you whenever he was stuck working odd hours, but it wasn’t necessarily anything out of the ordinary. minho could still be needy and clingy sometimes. it was one of the things that you loved most about him - that he could be a grumpy cat most of the time, but underneath that prickly exterior, he was just a big softie. you loved it even more that you were the only person who could bring out that side of him.

"missed you too," you mumbled. it didn’t sound at all lively, but you knew he could tell that you meant it.

you caught a sigh from his end before he continued. though this time, he let his defenses down when he spoke. his voice came out along with a tired exhale, laced with something that you would’ve been able to pick up on had your mind not been delirious with sleep. "wanna be there with you," he said in earnest. "want you to be here with me."

"when are you coming home?" you asked, even though the words came out a little garbled, your voice heavy with sleep.

"in a couple hours. i'll be home right after this."

"okay. we can-" cue a big yawn. "we can stay in bed as long as you want in the morning."

"yeah, that sounds nice."

"then i’ll see you in a bit, okay?"

he paused briefly before his next words came out a little unsteady, hesitant. the unease with which he spoke bypassed your unassuming radar completely. "can we just stay on the phone?"

"min-"

"you don't have to talk to me. just... stay with me for a while."

you think you might've passed out again after that, the subsequent silence and his breathing on the other end having lulled you back to sleep in a matter of seconds.

my love, it brings tears to your eyes just thinking about it, how could i have missed it?

you quietly move closer to him, shuffling inch by inch until you’re chest to chest, hoping his body could sense your warmth and be comforted by it, even just a little bit. you press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, but even that simple touch stirs him awake even though minho is usually a deep sleeper.

his eyes slowly open, and you suppose the tug on your heartstrings loosens when the furrow between his brows eases as he takes in the sight of you.

he heaves a sigh of relief, and it’s like you can actually see some of the tension leaving his body as he pulls you to him, holding you against him so tightly that it’s impossible to move even if you wanted to.

"hi," you say, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, snuggling further into him until it’s hard to tell if the heartbeat you feel is yours or his.

"hi," he replies, his soft lips placing a greeting kiss on the top of your head.

"bad day?" night, but oh well. technicalities.

his answer comes muffled against your hair, though you feel the slight vibration of his chest when he mutters, "it wasn’t that bad. i was just a little overwhelmed."

"but it's better now?"

"much better, now that you’re here."

truthfully, you don’t really know what to say in moments like this. you want to be able to offer him reassuring words that could ease his nerves and calm his raging sea, but you’re not good with words. you never have been. you don’t think you ever will be, as much as you want to. for him.

it makes you feel guilty at times, not being able to give minho the peace he needs.

you do try though, to comfort him as much as you can.

"i love you," you say quietly. your arm wraps around him, your palm landing on his upper back where your fingers tenderly soothe the firm muscles you find. i'm sorry i wasn't there for you. i wish i have the right words to say to you.

"i could listen to you breathe and feel ten times better," he admits, putting some distance between your faces so he can look at you, as if it'll help emphasize his words. "i don’t even need you to do anything. i just need you. you’re more than enough for me."

his eyes bore into yours, glittering with nothing but a kind of sincerity that he never shows anyone but you. you kiss him then, soft and slow. you want to pour as much love into him as you possibly can. and even then you don't think it can amount to a fraction of what he deserves.

but nonetheless, you try. you try because he means the world to you.

i'll do better for you. let me share your burdens with you.

pulling away, you tell him, as your palm gently holds his cheek, a touch which he leans into instantaneously. "go back to sleep. i’ve got you."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #lee know #lee minho

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

Note

can you do a ghost version of the Memories of Youth fic you did for price please?

Harvest Storms

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Daughter!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Angst, emotionally distant father/Simon, injuries, arguments, mentions of Simon's past, hurt/comfort, fluff near the end, etc.

A/N: I know this might be controversial but I really don't see Simon wanting kids so I tried to keep this realistic but also cute, lmao. Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Simon admitted that having a kid was never on his to-do list, and it wasn’t only his job that caused that. In fact, at any point in his life, the thought alone terrified him.

His icy eyes spaced out as the man unstrapped his combat vest in the on-base armory, hucking it over his head with a tiny grunt. Muscles ached; wounds burned.

He’d known having that one-night stand wasn’t right—he should have just stuck to his perfected solitude of dark rooms and middle-of-the-night workouts. But there was only so much you could do before instinct overcame any sort of common sense; add a few drinks into the mix and the concoction had glazed over his mind like a honey-laced dream.

And then nine months later a single text. A photo attachment.

“She’s yours.” His child. His daughter. Simon had a daughter.

It had taken weeks of self-isolation to figure out what to do. There were moments of very real panic—bone-deep worry and hatred. He couldn’t be a father and still be the Ghost that he was now, but there wasn’t a way to reverse his already damaged psyche. Home in Manchester didn’t feel like a real place anymore; home was a gun in his hands and his mask over his face. Slumping bodies and adrenaline-blown pupils. The high he got out of killing could never be topped by the joys of having a family he didn’t want.

But then he remembered his own father and the guilt that had struck him at that moment left Simon physically sick. Head pounding and bile lacing his tongue as he retched over a toilet. It would have been easier to just promise money, and give over some of what he earned to give you a future. He could distance himself but still be a shadow on the wall if it all went south.

Yes, it could have been easy.

Until your mother up and disappeared; leaving you all alone. There was no way in hell he could leave you in foster care. The stories he’d heard…

Simon’s gloved hands flex, joints cracking, before he checks the watch on his wrist with slow-blinking eyes. He needed to be home in two hours.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” A groan escapes, rolling his shoulders twice before grasping at his thigh holster—slipping out the X12 to place it down with a small thump of black metal.

These movements were entirely routine and soon there was a neat line of multiple knives, the pistol, an automatic rifle, frag grenades, med pack, rope, and anything else that Ghost could have even the slightest possibility of needing in a tight spot. Through it all, the mask stayed; icy eyes behind the spread of black face paint numb.

It’s one hour later that he’s done cleaning and putting everything away with tired fingers. Feet shuffle before he’s exiting the armory all together, snatching the large duffle bag near the double doors; a small grunt plays out of his chest. The strap is dragged over his head when Soap passes him in the base’s hallway.

All Simon could do is hold back a groan as a headache already begins to form.

“Lt.” The Scot calls, smile pulling his lips up, “off to go hide in back-alleys, then?”

“Jesus, Johnny, shut the fuck up already.” Ghost grumbles out, hands slipping into his pockets as he continues off down the hallway. Behind him, the mohawked Sergeant belts out a laugh before disappearing into the armory Simon had just vacated.

“Copy and check, Sir!” Sarcasm bleeds out and makes icy eyes fall half-closed with subdued annoyance.

The large phantom continues on until he exits the base and digs his keys out of his pockets—finding his car in the underground parking garage exactly where he had left it two months prior. As if on autopilot, he shuffles open the door and tosses his bag in the back before sitting in the front seat and twisting the ignition.

Reaching into the glove compartment, Simon pulls out a clean balaclava and holds it loosely—his opposite hand slipping up to the skeletal mask of his head and feeling the fibers on his fingertips. Replacing it swiftly, the clean fabric slips over his face with a stiff movement of his arm. Seconds later, his foot presses into the gas.

There are no words spoken, no comments under breath, just a silence that seems to stem from some underlying anxiety completely foreign to Simon on the field. Going home always made him nervous. A soul-digging kind of hesitation.

It takes him the rest of that last hour to drive home—a tiny little country house far removed from Manchester though still leaving it well guarded by local law-enforcement patrols. A perfect mix of safety and distance that had been the driving force in Simon’s initial purchase of it. But it wasn’t his only properly, not by a long shot.

Like a rat, the holes of his paranoia ran deep into the earth.

He pulls the car into the dirt driveway and kills the vehicle. Outside in the darkening sky, his eyes slide to watch over the top of the garden wall; seeing tree branches sway in a subdued breeze. Sitting there for a few moments, the man just ends up shaking his head and shoving open the door with his shoulder.

Veins tighten under his flesh.

“Kid!” Simon raps on the front door with his knuckles when his boots take him over and up the steps, voice gravelly. A house key slips into the lock, turning over before the barrier opens. Ghost stomps in and immediately knows the entire home is completely empty.

He blinks in confusion, looking over the still air and dull noises. The AC unit whirls; the fridge shakes. No feet on the floor—no groan or sly comment.

You were a teenager now, but the absence of your aura was harsh to him. You were supposed to be here. The Manchester man’s lips thin.

“Christ, don’t go and tell me she’s fuckin’ gone again…” Simon kicks the door shut and lets his bag fall from his fingers, feeling his chest tighten slowly. He beelines to the kitchen where, sure enough, a note from the far-off neighbor who keeps an eye on you when he’s gone was sitting with its delicate font.

Fast fingers snatch it like a snake, jaw clenched and tight grip creasing the paper. He reads with a growing disappointment.

“She got into a fight out of school again—black eye and bruised knuckles. I’m sorry, Mr. Riley, but I couldn’t get a hold of you to tell you about it. I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father. When you read this, I’ll have tried to make her come back inside but I was unsuccessful. I left supper at the base of the hill and a blanket. I’m sorry. I’ll be at my home if you need me.”

Simon places the note down and runs a hand up and down his face, a deep sigh exiting his lips as his fingers cover his jaw and chin. Like the definition of fatigue, his body lightly bows forward. Slouched shoulders.

This would make the fifth fight this year.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

After a minute of mute irritation, the man drops his hands and goes to the freezer, taking out an ice pack with a small glint of further emotion stinted in his gaze. There are so many things that Simon feels for you—some of which he would never be able to properly express.

He’s not a good man. Not someone to look up to or place on a pedestal. He’s in the 141 because he can do a job; a job that not many others can do simply for the fact that something in him was broken. Shattered beyond repair.

Simon was never meant for this.

The blond placed the ice pack into a rag from the drawer and exited through the back door of the house. Grunt stuck in his throat at the thought of the delinquent activities you seemed to always get up to when he was gone which, admittingly, was more often than not.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

But wasn’t he doing a good thing by staying away? He took you in—provided food, water, shelter, and anything else you could need. What was he doing wrong?

Simon’s brows tighten as the chilled air hits him as a winder wind would. By now the sun had fully set and the darkness was becoming more black than blue by the second; dim twinklings from stars dancing in the pupils of his eyes. His feet take him off the back porch and easily finds a small trail that leads through the barren garden all the way to a hill in the distance.

Icy blue easily finds the tiny hunched being at the very top. His hand tightens over the ice pack.

Ghost was unable to understand, of course, he hadn’t had the kind of childhood people would want—was never around kids in general. No friends with little brats running around, obviously. Was this a normal kind of thing kids did? Start fights?

He’d heard some things about teenagers.

Closing his tired eyes for a moment, Simon silently walks past the plate of food at the foot of the hill but snatches the fluffy blanket that had been beside it. If you don’t want to eat he won't force you, but it was getting cold out quickly.

Simon wasn’t letting you catch a bug.

He huffs as he ascends the slope, all the aches and pains finally making themself more known in his thighs and abdomen.

You hear him coming when he’s three-fourths of the way there.

Your red eyes widen in shock, hands that had been trapping your legs to your chest rising to wipe the tears on your cheeks away aggressively; frantic. Three seconds later a heavy fabric hits your head and you tense, widely looking up into the dead eyes of your father.

The blanket thumps to the ground beside you in a heap.

“Put it on,” he grunts from behind his balaclava and your surprised expression slowly sours.

You turn away with a growl. “Don’t want to.”

“Bloody ‘ell, just put it on,” there’s no acidity behind the words, but the annoyance is clear. “Asking to get fuckin’ sick at this rate, are you? I’m not cleanin’ up your vomit from the floor when you're hunched over like a mutt on drugs.”

Not a stranger to his humor, but with a venom-laced look, you grab the blanket as Simon sits next to you and end up throwing it over your shoulders. Your face hurt too much to talk for long periods—right eye swollen and radiating heat; hands weren't that much better, the knuckles puffy and blood-flooded under the skin. It made you flinch when you had to clench your fingers.

You’re acutely aware of your father’s presence. How he sits with his spine bent with one hand behind him; legs laying out flat. You should be happy he’s back safe in one piece, but in reality, there would be little change if he never showed back up at all.

The house was always silent anyways. Dead. Simon was as much a stranger to you as he was to everyone else.

“What did I tell you when I went away, eh?” The man asks you lowly when you’ve settled, and you grit your teeth and look out over the landscape, long grass swaying in the wind. “Kid.”

“Don’t get into any more fights.” Words are stiff, reflective of both of your muscles and hearts.

“Affirmative. You want to explain to me what you did?”

“Got into another fight.” An icepack is tossed near you, bouncing in the grass. You scoff but take it, softly applying it to your face with a concealed flinch. Shame permeates in your ribs, a desperate need to prove yourself. “I didn’t mean to—”

“That’s not an excuse.” Simon glares at you from the side of his eye, utterly serious. “When I tell you something, you listen, yeah?”

“...Yeah,” you grit your teeth and clench your hands, a bitter huff leaving your lips. “Sure.”

A tense silence keeps you in its clutches, the kind of silence that stems from two people who really have no idea how to speak or understand one another.

“No more fighting,” Simon grits out, “now show me.”

“It’s not that bad—”

“Show me it.” Your face burns as you slip the ice pack away and turn your face his way, meeting your father’s gaze head-on and seeing his lids slightly pull back. You spy his hand clenching in the grass, ripping strands out like hair from a head.

“Happy?” You sarcastically ask, turning back forward and putting the ice pack back into your socket.

It’s a long while before he speaks to you again, and you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face when he does. Your heart rampages at the deathly slow and tiny voice.

“Why?” The question makes your body flair with anger and you grip the pack tighter, feeling the ice shift in your grip as you clench it violently. You feel your fingers twitch when you answer, unconsciously closing into fists.

“Why?” You glare at him, “Why the hell do you care?”

Simon’s eyes go blank, brows going up his head. Gazes lock and you’re suddenly standing to your feet, chucking the ice pack right into his chest. It only makes you madder when he catches it easily, glancing down at the object before slowly shifting his numb eyes back to you.

“You’re never fucking here, what’s the point in telling you anything about me?” Your father’s face is covered, but the mask is more than just physical—it’s a part of him in every sense. You don’t know what he is, but you see his lungs going still in his ribs. You splay your hands around you as the blanket hits the ground at your feet. “It wouldn’t even make a difference if you never came back! Even when you’re here it barely even matters beyond who’s dishes are in the sink.”

Bitter tears spring to your eyes but you refuse to let them fall, a tight itch in your skin. Slight guilt hits you when you shove out such harsh words, but you don’t care enough right now to think about what you’re saying. Everything just hits a breaking point. Shaking your head you scoff again, weaker this time. “You don’t even know the first things about me and you want me to try and explain why I do the things I do?”

Simon watches and listens, stone still. It’s as if he doesn’t even breathe; his pulse doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. If you would have been able to see it, you’d have noticed the way the large man’s lips were slightly parted.

He wasn’t averse to arguments, he yelled on Ops and cursed aggressively on duty, but he had made a stark promise to himself to never yell at you. If there was one thing that reminded him of his father—it was that. Explosive fights that only ended one way.

What you were saying was everything he knew to be true. This came to him in a slow and silent realization of growing pain. Simon didn’t know your favorite color or what food you loved. Your interests or your goals.

He knew how much you spent on snacks at the store, but didn’t know what you bought.

Ghost clenches his jaw and watches your resolve deteriorate with a heavy heart. What was he supposed to do? He was your father, sure, but…he didn’t know the first things that went with anything beyond giving you items and objects.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

How could he be a father to you?

Simon clears his throat, for once in his life completely unable to pull on any sort of skill to rectify this situation. You take his silence as blatant disregard.

With a burning face, you sniffle and twist on your heel, speed-walking down the hill back into the house. Your brain is pounding in your head, just as fast as your heart when you finally stomp through the garden and shove open the back door.

Simon doesn’t tell you to stop.

Left on that hill, he watches your back disappear into the house and gets a rabid pain in his stone heart. You were his daughter. You were hurt; neglected. He’d never felt like this before.

Simon had failed the only job that he knew was far more important than any other. Blue darkens into a color reminiscent of storm clouds.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” Standing, he snatches at the ice pack and the blanket, lightly jogging down the mound of earth. In no time he’s standing in the house again, having completely forgotten about the plate of food outside. It’s the tense set of his shoulders that really give away how unprepared he feels. How out of his expertise.

Give Simon a gun and he’d be able to take it apart and reassemble it in one minute; a knife and he’d have it sharp in seconds.

Simon Riley has no idea how to be a good father and he’s suddenly very aware of how fast the window is closing to try. You were his blood and his responsibility. He can’t end up like his own father.

The thought almost makes him sick again, stomach rolling with anxiety.

Inside the house, he tosses the items in his grip onto the couch and whispers past into the hallway to your room. Fingers twitching, he grabs at his balaclava before ripping it from his head; stuffing it into his pants pocket. Stopping in front of your room, Simon raises a hand.

Just as he’s about to shove open the door, he instantaneously stops himself with a sharp thought.

Daughter, not soldier. Home, not barracks.

Hand lowering, he takes a long and deep breath and waits a moment; gathering himself. He still didn’t know what to say…but…

God, your words hurt, but he needed to hear them because they were true.

Simon’s knuckles rasp on the wood, a series of three dull thumps that echo over the stale air. There’s a shuffling of sheets and a dull, “God, just go away!”

Cursing quietly under his breath, Simon runs his fingers through his hair tense-like; pushing back blond strands.

“Open up for me, yeah?” He tries, awkward as his hips shift weight. “Need ‘ta talk to you.”

A cruel laugh exits from under the bottom of the door. “You? Talk?”

Simon keeps his mouth shut and closes his eyes, pulling from the deep pit of patience he holds for on-duty missions and not mastered yet for disagreements and verbal talks. He calms down and rolls his shoulders slightly.

“Please.” A pin could drop.

It’s a long, hot-air moment before there's the padding of feet over the floor and the slight shift of the door handle. The metal jiggles before it’s twisted back with a firm hand.

Your face comes into view through the tiny crack of the door, injured eye on full display in all its swollen glory. A young face is laced with surprise at seeing your father’s bare visage—only the black face paint stuck to his skin—but even more so at his plea. There were only a few times you’d actually seen him and even fewer when you’d hear something like that. Simon stops himself from getting angry at the sight of your wound, staring down at you as his gaze softens just a fraction of a sliver.

He recalls the moment he had first held your form when he had picked you up at hospital years ago. You were so small, squirming in his foreign grip. The nurse had to tell him how to hold you properly—what to do and what not to do.

It had been the first time that Simon could really say he’d been terrified down to his marrow; sweating and lips pulled tight. This being so small it couldn’t do anything by itself had rendered him frozen with unease like he had been stabbed in the heart. Your eyes had looked up at him with trust and love. You hadn’t cried or screamed at his hidden face, even if he thought you should have…you’d done something worse.

You had reached up to his face and placed your little fingers on his brow, slapping his flesh with no strength or hatred. Simon’s gaze never left you for hours after you’d done that, uncharacteristically warm and rendered mute to all else.

Tiny. Weak. Innocent.

How could anybody ever leave you? Hurt you? But the man had been petrified; utterly fearful to the point he would begin shaking when you’d begin crying for a bottle.

In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

“What?” Your crestfallen voice brings him back and he blinks, expression going blank once more. But he tries.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t know—are you going to give a lecture?” You ask, eyes red and other hand still holding the door handle. Simon breathes out a grunted sigh.

“Negative, Moppet, no lecture.” He relaxes his posture, eye bags plainly visible. He was so tired his fingers had gone numb. “Jus’ need ‘ta…” Words fail him. What did he need to do?

Simon clears his throat, looking off down the hallway before his eyes drift back to you.

“You land a hit, then?” You blink in silent shock at the graveled question, a hitch in your lungs giving way to confusion.

“I…” your feet shuffle, face burning, “what?”

One of your father’s large hands goes up to rub the back of his neck, fingers creating red lines across his flesh as his chest rises and falls. You could immediately tell he had no idea what he was doing.

But…he was trying.

“A hit,” he vaguely gestures to your eye, staring intensely. “Did you get ‘em back?”

It’s a vague few moments before you respond, oddly touched by the question. Your door opens the slightest bit wider.

“More than one person,” you admit hesitantly. Your father’s gaze darkens but you quickly continue. “T-they look worse than me right now.”

Simon nods stiffly, hands going to slide into his pockets. “That’ll do,” a pause, “...‘cause I can’t beat up teenagers without getting into a fuckin’ heap ‘o shit.”

Your heart lurches with amusement and a small smile grows on your face. You stare, still just a tiny bit confused at the sudden shift, but unable to stop the chuckle you let out. He doesn’t know how to describe the feeling in his chest when his ears twitch at the sound of your humor, yet Simon pulls a smirk to his lips. It made him…content, you could say.

“Who said they were teenagers?” you smirk, tinting your head, and your father immediately frowns, unamused. Brows pull in.

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“No, it isn’t. Shut your bloody trap.” The air lightens to a degree you hadn’t experienced before. A silence settles before you break it, vision darting down to spy on the dog tags Simon wears.

“...How long are you staying?” The man hums, licking his lips.

I know you said your job is important but I think your daughter needs her father.

“I’m off as long as it takes to get you to stop picking fights, yeah?” Your fingers flinch and you stare into eyes that are always like ice, except now try to melt themselves into a chilled puddle.

“Change of heart?” You ask, voice subdued. A bitter hope builds in your veins.

Simon motions with his chin for you to open the door to your room and you do, elbowing it to the side before backing up—letting your father’s large frame enter.

He looks around for a moment at the posters and the bits of personality, glaring internally at himself because he didn’t know what you liked at all. He seems disappointed with his own negligence.

He’d really fucked up.

“C’mere,” Simon goes and snatches your desk chair before he whirls it around, “lemme take a proper look at it.” His hand pats the top of the wood and you listen, going to it and sitting down softly.

Your father kneels in front of you, bones cracking, and he delicately grabs hold of your chin to tilt your head to the side with practiced ease. You avoid his eyes, hands in your lap held tight together in this silence that brews from shared thorns.

Simon has to take a deep breath to get his head out of his rage at the sight of your damaged skin; instinctual reaction to guard you rearing its head even more so now that he can see the injury in the dim light of your desk lamp. His thumb caresses the side of the swelling with intense care.

“Won’t die,” is all he can say, voice hard and strained. “Lucky you, eh?” You scoff and his hands leave—there wasn’t much he could do. “Moppet.”

Eyes slide up to his and his grip finds your bicep, squeezing once. You’re momentarily locked at the sight of real concern in his glinting orbs; a once in a blue moon occurrence.

“Give me your word.” Simon levels firmly, feet shifting. “No more of this. You’re gonna end up gettin’ hurt—badly—you got that?”

“They were calling soldiers cannon fodder.” You glare at your hands in your lap, mumbling out the truth with a burning face mixed with shame and honesty. Your father goes silent. “That they weren’t even good enough for bullets.”

Jaw clenching, you rotate your wrist and feel the flare of pain from the joints. A deep sigh exits from Simon and with a hesitant clench of his jaw, his hand travels to the back of your head. He presses firmly, and your face finds the junction of his neck and shoulder with little fight. Tense in the beginning, you slowly breathe in sweat and tarmac with a gradual loosening feeling in your muscles.

Eyes wide, you slowly begin to return the strange embrace. Your father flinches lightly when your fingers slip along his waist, hands grabbing into his shirt. But like you, time makes him calm—the side of his face connects with the side of your scalp, lashes fluttering closed tightly.

It was you. His daughter. Innocent.

The emotions are so foreign to you that it brings a burning behind your eyes as the minutes lengthen.

Simon can’t even begin to process it, it just felt natural to do such things for you. If there was one thing he did know—it was that he didn’t want to see you in pain or suffering; hurt or eyes filled with pain. His hands slip to bring you up into his arms like you were a baby again, carrying you easily as your nose sniffles with restrained tears. You’re placed in your bed with a delicate plop, icy eyes darting over you until it seems a decision is made with a quick nod.

You watch him leave and return seconds later with a pile of manilla folders in his hands. Your father grunts softly, “Go to sleep. It’s late out,” and drops the items to your desk, sitting down with a huff and a squeal from your chair. The air is warm and you sit in it a moment longer.

Eyes blink at the silhouette before a small smile builds on your lips—genuine and warm like a weighted blanket.

“How long are you gonna be there?” You ask your father, grasping the covers and slipping under as your head hits the pillow; making sure to stay on the uninjured side.

He doesn’t turn around.

“All night. Need ‘ta get this shite done for my boss.” You don’t know why, but you feel like he’s lying. Simon looks over his shoulder with a tone dipping to a whisper. “Sleep, Kid. We’ll get those knuckles sorted in the morning.”

Of course, he’d noticed that, too.

“Dad?” You ask and his spine straightens instantly at the title. It’s a long time before he answers and when he does his emotion is the softest you’ve ever heard him; gravel so deep you almost miss the words entirely.

“What is it?”

“Goodnight.” Simon’s hands shake as they open the first folder in the small stack, small tremors that are both horrible and endearing. He doesn’t say anything until you’re fast asleep behind him—when he stands up and walks over, pressing a kiss to your forehead and pulling the covers farther up to your chin.

Into your skin, he whispers, “...Goodnight, my little Moppet.”

Simon wonders if his daughter likes eggs for breakfast as his pen slides over the first report, one eye forever staying on your slumbering body to watch the rise and fall of your lungs.

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1K notes · View notes

cvnt4him · 7 months ago

Note

Hello!! I'm the same girl who requested for IT reader a while back, and I really liked it!<3 I wanted to try out requesting again so I'm here once more😭😭 Anyway, are you fine with family-centered stuff? Could you do heavy angst with Father!Number One!Izuku with his little girl? You can decide whatever for the child, really!(but personally I prefer daughter) So, since Izuku is the number one, Y/N is probably the one mostly taking care of their kid. What if there was this huge accident that killed Y/N because the heroes were too late to detain the villain? Plus points if Izuku was the hero assigned. So ever since the death, Izuku is suddenly the caretaker and tries his absolute best to make his kid happy but fails since the kid absolutely loathes him for being absent and for being too late to save their mother. What do you think Izuku will do?? So, yeah!! It's up to you if this isn't weird</3

Its not weird at all my love, thanm you for the req and I'm so glad to have you requesting from me again, feel free to stop by once more and leave some more, youre always welcome<33 I would also like to apologize to you and everyone else who has made a req and I haven't gotten to it. I won't get into detail but I've been busy, I've closed my reqs so I can get all my old ones out, most of my reqs are like months old anyways so here i am clesning out the closet.

...

“mr midoriya, where would you say your life went wrong?”

“ ....when I left my wife.. ”

Izuku was always infatuated with you, your beauty, your strength, how compassionate and caring you were. He thought you were just neat. You didn't have a quirk yet like him you still made it into UA. You were pretty smart and tried hard at everything you did. He admired you for that, he watched you closely and studied you. Not in a creepy way, but in a "I'm in love with you, notice me" way.

In your second year you'd finally taken a liking towards him, he was quite cute despite his odd haircut. You understood it was due to the trouble he went through in the war, he was strong reliable and terrifyingly selfless. Izuku midoriya was a great guy and you had really liked him, the two of you started going on sweet little dates together, walking in the park sharing an ice cream, going to the movies to see whats new, going to a carnival with some friends and sneaking off alone.

Those were the days izuku wished could've lasted forever, where nothing was wrong, peace was restored and everyone was happy. But as life does. It moves on. The world changes right before tour eyes and before you know it, it's been 8 years. The two of you are still happily together in fact married now, and expecting. Izuku and you had gotten out of college a couple years ago, he became a pro and you were in charge of the Deku Foundation. A silly name for a silly little guy.

Izuku was a family guy, he didn't see his father much growing up so he knew this was what he wanted. He wanted to assure to you, the mother of his unborn child, and to his unborn child that he would be there, always and forever. He held you at night and made you breakfast in the morning, he wasn't always there to eat it with you but he made sure to leave adorable little notes for you to feel special, you kept busy doing work for his company, exercising to try and reduce stretch marks and baby weight in the future, and cooking for fun. It was hard being pregnant but it was worth it. Is what you'd say.

Izuku could never forget the moment you had his baby. Those were the absolute happiest moments in his life, no doubt about it. Watching his baby leave from your birth canal, he seen the way you screamed in agony with the final push. He was so mesmerized by it all, his wife just gave birth to his... beautiful babygirl.

“congratulations, mr and mrs midoriya, it's a girl.”

When the doctors gave you your baby, he watched closely as she stopped crying immediately at the contact of your skin, your soft voice shushing her sounds away, he pleas and cries powering down as she calmer herself. Its like you were a magical being, izuku was so enamoured with it, with you. With his new baby.

Holding her for the first time was his dream, it was even better than he could've possibly imagined. He sighed and tried to hold back tears, yet they fell asleep if a water faucet was left on, he sniffled and hiccupped as he tried to hold her closely, he took off his shirt so she could feel that skin to skin contact that babies are supposed to love. He read a book about parenting, of course the book would've been better for you to read because it was how to prepare for child birth but either way; it worked.

This moment, truly was the happiest one yet; but as life does. It moves on. And before he knew it 6 years had passed, you're beautiful babygirl was in first grade! She was making friends learning a lot and laughing and playing like kids her age should. She loved the outdoors and loved animals, she enjoyed small things like butterflies and rabbits. She was such a vibrant little girl, a splitting image from izuku too, mind the couple of genetics of yours that had shined through. Izuku loved his girls so much, watching the way you two played together, when you did her hair, read to her, his favorite thing of all was to watch you to crochet.

It was so calming, you would hold her close and show her carefully how to apply the yarn, teaching her how to swap colors smoothly and humming gently to her. Izuku watched you both closely, he's a very observant man, with that being said watching his girls was hos favorite thing to do. It's like you two were a show he could never get tired of, a program that was played just for him.

Izuku was a pro now and as much as he loved you both, he had a job to do. One that he couldn't fail, it ate him away that hr couldn't just sit with his girls all day long. Listen to little stories his baby has to share about her day at school. As much as he disliked it, he would even love to listen to his wife rant on and on about a little dream she had the other night, how the washer was in the kitchen instead of the laundry room and looked like an oven instead. Such odd dreams you had.

Izuku hadn't even realized it, but he had been spending more and more time at his agency, accidentally sleeping there and coming home 4 hours before he had to go back up there. It was tiring, he was tired, yet he had a job to do. And he wouldn't fail. You two started seeing less of him, it saddened your daughter deeply yet you tried to remind her constantly that he is a hero, and heroes have jobs to do. She would nod and give you a smile still laced with disappointment, sadness.

What really pissed you off was when he promised your little girl he'd be there for her science fair, yet didn't show. She won and everything, he promised her he'd help with making it. Whoops he couldn't do that because he was working. No matter! He apologized so you both just slid it off. However this was the last straw for you. Driving home you were furious, seeing your little girl in the mirror with a frown as she fiddled with her ribbon.

You stayed up late that night. Assuring that you'd catch him, and once you did you two argued. Which is something you'd never done, of course you two would bicker and disagree on things, but this was unlike those times. You were both yelling and had possibly woken up your daughter, but neither of you could care. Too blinded by your own fury, you had banished him and he left without a word. Without a second thought, without looking back.

“ I wish I looked back.... I wish I would've apologized, I wish I could've been there when she needed me; when they needed me... ”

That was the last time he'd seen you alive.

It was a normal day for the most part, besides the fact that you two had argued two nights before and hasn't spoken since. Izuku hadn't seen his daughter nor spoken to her either, it was eating away at him but he didn't have time to focus on that right now.. he was getting a signal from one of his sidekicks out on patrol.

“ deku! We need you! There's been an accident! There's a huge fire breathing villain who's trapped a woman and her daughter!”

A woman and her daughter.... That had to be a coincidence. It was, it had to be. Tons of people have daughters and just so happen to be women as well. Hell, he bets it's not even her daughter!!

“its- it's your wife...”

A loud scream was heard on the sidekicks line, izuku was terrified, he moved without even thinning jumping out of the nearest window zooming through the air trying to reach you. So many things going through his mind, why were you out? What were you doing? You never go out, why now! Why was his daughter there?

He was trying his damnedest to reach you, he couldn't help but feel like time was slowing down. Like he wasn't fast enough, meanwhile in actuality he was moving faster than the speed of sound. So why wasn't he there yet? He groaned in annoyance at this, he couldn't shake the terrible shrieking sound that came from the other line.. it terrified him.

“ come in! Is everything alright?! What's the situation?! ”

“i...”

“ what?! what is it, spit it out?! ”

“ I'm sorry... ”

Sorry? Sorry for what? Why the hell was he saying sorry? The only question izuku could find himself wondering. Upon arriving he sees people running, fire burning everywhere and debris filling the air, he coughed through the smoke putting on his mask and zooming through the thick fog. He found his sidekick, no wonder his voice was so hoarse and dry, he had collapsed and passed out. Izuku took him to the nearby ambulance that was present before going back through the smoke to find you.

Other heroes were arriving on scene and searching for other civilians, trying to get them out while others tried taking down the villain, he was huge and was not going down without a fight. Izuku couldn't even try to worry about the villain, you and his daughter were his main focus.

“ daddy! Please help us! ”

The sound of his daughter wailing with a cracky voice, it shattered his heart he followed the sound of crying until he found the two of you, your daughter by your side holding your arm tears falling down her reddened cheeks, she was dirty and covered and muck. She also just so happened to be covered in...blood.

“ princess... what.. what happened.. ”

His daughter ran into his arms bursting into even more tears hiccuping and sobbing. Her cries were loud and full of sadness anyone within a mile radius could tell and even hear, izuku picked you up in his arms not even taking the time to assure you were okay, not checking a pulse or to see if you were breathing. He just swooped you up in his arms bridal style and had his daughter on his back, telling her to cover her mouth. He zoomed through the smoke and handed you both over to the ambulance, they were quick to ail you both.

Izuku was soon to go help the other heroes in scene but first he looked back to you, to see them giving you air and performing CPR, his eyes widened and just as he was about to go back over to you, he tried to rush to your side before being caught by none other than..

“ deku, c'mon we need you. ”

“ kach- erm- dynamite. I can't, I have to— ”

“ come. on. ”

The fiery blonde yanked the large green haired male by his suit and dragged him back into action, he thought this was for the best. Leaving your side this last time to finish slaying this beast.

The fight was over and everyone who had been injured was taken to the nearest hospitals, the villain who had caused all of this trouble was taken into custody and was going to be behind bars for a long time. During the fight people could tell izuku was letting out pent up steam on the villain, he could've killed him. He was sure of it, everyone was. He had be pulled off in order for him to stop. You were hurt and his daughter could've gotten hurt. Izuku felt the villain deserved far much worse than to be behind bars. But at least he was rotting.

Izuku went to see you in the hospital, waiting for hours on end, pacing back and forth a million things on his mind. His daughter had been released a while ago, she was fine apart from the smoke inhalation. He couldn't believe she didn't have a single scratch on her, but he was glad and very much thankful. She sat in the nearest seat taking it easy, watching izuku pace around before finally, some news..

“ mr midoriya— ”

“ what- what's going on is my wife okay?! what's the problem, can I go and see her?? ”

“ I uhm... ahem. I'm afraid I have some bad news.. Mr midoriya. ”

Izukus expression fell, his eyes widened yet his face was completely blank. His heart dropped and completely shattered at the words the doctor said to him. His daughter immediately broke down. Tears were brimming in his eyes, he was borderline shaking in his red boots. He felt bile rising in his throat, the burning sensation making tears fall. They fell and never stopped. He held his daughter close that night. Never letting her go. He was afraid if he did... She might leave him.

....

“ I see. and how does that make you feel?”

“ ... are you seriously asking me how my dead wife makes me fucking feel. ”

“ yes. It's been 9 years, you've retired from hero work and have been seeing me for quite some time yet we never seem to talk about her. ”

Fuck... 9 years had completely flown by him. He hadn't even realized.. you'd been gone for 9 years....

“ I... I.. ”

“ your daughter will be a freshman at UA this year, correct? How does that make you feel? Have you checked in with your daughter? Have you asked how she's been? How has she coped with her mother's death? ”

Izuku was speechless. 9 years had passed, he can't seem to remember much and his daughter.. the last piece of you he has, is starting school at the very high school you two met at. Where did the time go...

AN: I'm not good at angst if you can't tell, this is a shite ending and uhm I've been feeling like shit so I hope this makes you feel shitty, but in like a good way yk? I want you to feel so hurt and sad that it makes you think 'wow.. this is some good shit right here.'

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billythesimp · 7 months ago

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Uhmmm... Billy and Lycaon with a Therian!reader who always nonchalantly (trying to be) fixes their hair/clothes!! I honestly think that's something cute and intimate between Therians and it's low-key a confession from reader

I cackled at the thought of a Thiren grooming and fixing up Billy. My man would both love and hate it.

Neat and Tidy

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…

I will apologize in advance if Von's part is longer then Billy's. After all, they are just headcanons but also I figured that Billy wouldn't know how to respond to such a thing as he's an android while Von himself is a thiren.

Also it is thiren or therian? I can never tell and I've seen both.

Billy / Lycaon x Thiren-gn!reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡…⋙

tw: none

✦ With Billy, he only gets mildly annoyed when they are combing back his hair and closing up his jacket at times because of the ‘wind’. Though he does like that they are thinking about his appearance from time to time. He is a pretty good looking mech, he takes pride in his looks from time to time so if he found out his hair was unkempt and a bit messy, he would want someone to tell him for sure. But they were starting to become overbearing in his eyes that he would pout and whine whenever they would start tending to him in public.

✦ He jumps at their touch everytime, muttering quietly that they don’t always have to be babying him from time to time and that it’s a choice, but they don’t listen at times and don’t stop until he is presting and clean. Eventually he just brushed it off as a quirk of theirs despite the fact that no one else in their team got this similar treatment. It’s not until Nekomata told him something rather odd that made him rethink everything he’d known about them. At first he didn’t understand, what did she mean by how he was so lucky that he had someone who cared so much about him to groom him often?

✦ She thought he was joking at first, but it clicked that he was just dumb and really hadn’t noticed, so she held back on telling him so he would ask them himself. He can’t help but wonder what Neko meant by that, cue the therian mentioned before coming over and tsking at Billy before scolding him about his jackets collar and keeping his cuffs even. The more they go on, he can’t help but put two and two together and start to overheat from how cute they were being all this time.

✦ Since Lycaon was a thiren himself, he knows the mannerisms of his fellow kind. They vary depending on the species but they all fit under some umbrella of shared habits. That being said, he always gets a little flustered when they come up to him and mention that his red tissue is uneven in his pocket, reaching out to fixed it along with any little thing they can get their hands on. While he could have done it himself, a small part of him loves the thought of being doted on, and so lets them do as they please before thanking them.

✦ They do this often, helping him fix himself up before making appearances or after a job well done, having rough housed a little leaving him a little messy. And Von isn’t one to own another being, so he returns the favor by smoothing out their skirts and shirts, finding an excuse to fix their cuffs to linger his hands over theirs. The way they grow flushed and thank him which only leaves him with a hint of excitement. If he could, he would take them into his office to properly groom them but he thinks that that would be too far. Move at your pace, he thinks, though if they offer to help fluff up his tail he wouldn’t refuse.

✦ Of course, it isn’t unusual for either of them to fix up the other girls when needed. They are often thought of as the parent figures of Victorian Housekeeping, so seeing them get along well with their little preening sessions and cute moments of fixing each other's clothing. It leaves little to the imagination as Corwin and Ellen have at least spoken about when they would come out and announce that they’re dating. And while Lycaon spends more time with them and hears about this, he can’t deny his urge to ask them out and properly court them. But he wants to hear it from them first.

#zenless zone zero #zzz #zonelist #headcanons #gn!reader #von lycaon #von lycaon x reader #billy kid #billy kid x reader

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sassyjoy · 9 months ago

Text

unplanned sleepover

genre: smut

word count: 1.4k

⋆｡˚ ⋆ ☾

"You can sit on my bed," Sooyoung told you upon entering her dorm room. It was quite spacious, you thought. The two beds certainly caught your attention, their neatness contrasting against the cozy disarray of the rest of the room. Posters of romcom films adorned one wall, while a whiteboard covered in colorful sketches and project ideas took up another. On the study desk, a jumble of art supplies mingled with a laptop displaying a digital design in progress. The room felt like a creative hub where the worlds of multimedia arts collided in a harmonious chaos curated by two distinct personalities.

"Do you want anything? Coffee? Juice? Water?" Sooyoung asked as she placed back her roommate's gaming chair near where it belongs.

"No, I'm good,” you replied, casting your eyes around the room, taking in the unique blend of multimedia arts influences in the shared space. You noticed a film camera on the desk and asked Sooyoung if that was hers.

"It's Wonwoo's," Sooyoung responded with a smile, gesturing towards the camera with a hint of admiration.

"Wonwoo? Oh, the guy you've been crushing about?"

Sooyoung snorted. "That's Jaehyun, dumbass. You never really listen to my stories, don't you?" You laughed when she threw a hoodie at you in which you caught. You knew it was Jaehyun, you were just messing with her.

"Wonwoo's my roommate."

"Oh, I didn't know men and women can share the same dorm room," you said in disbelief, as you knew it was not allowed in most dormitories.

Sooyoung shrugged, unfazed. "My landlord is cool with it and besides, I don't really mind sharing the same room with the opposite sex. As long as they're clean and mindful in their space, I won't have a problem with them. And Wonwoo's really nice. He's neat. We also share the same course so we really get along with each other!" As she spoke, Sooyoung picked her pajamas from her cabinet, preparing to change into sleepwear for the night.

"Why isn't he here though?" You asked as you lay on her bed, getting comfy. The bed felt nice and soft. You noticed some polaroid pictures of Sooyoung with friends near her bedside table. It was cute to see familiar faces from your shared circle of friends since high school.

"Org duties, I guess. He said he'll be home late," she shrugged.

"I'll go get changed," Sooyoung said before heading to the bathroom. You found yourself scrolling and watching tiktok videos on your phone on her bed. It was kind of funny that despite being friends for years, it was the first time being alone together. You usually never had this chance due to various reasons.

Your stay in her dorm wasn't planned. Your car broke down, and with heavy rain outside, the mechanic couldn't come fix it. Luckily, Sooyoung's dorm was nearby. It became your refuge from the storm. Without her help, you'd be out in the cold.

You were sleeping in one bed with Sooyoung. It wasn't supposed to be like that but you've had sleepovers with your circle of friends before. Sleeping in one bed shouldn't be a bad thing.

What's bad is that you're lusting over her. It shouldn't be like this. You know that yourself.

You wished you didn't enter the bathroom earlier. If you hadn't, you wouldn't see her dirty laundry. It wasn't your fault that you saw her undies lying there. It wasn't your fault that you had the urge to pick it up and smell it. But you did pick it up and smell it. The thought of Sooyoung wearing it just turned you even more and caused tenting on your sweatpants.

Here you are, lying on your side with your back to her. You're trying your best to fall asleep, but it seems impossible. Sooyoung, on the other side of the bed, keeps shifting and turning, making it even harder for you to find rest. You just want to get off this feeling.

'Should I just jerk off in the bathroom?' You've been asking yourself this question for the past 30 minutes now. But the bathroom's kinda far from the bed.

The room was dark. The only sound you could hear was the rain outside. The gentle tap-tap-tap against the window filled the room, creating a peaceful atmosphere. You're finally getting off that idea in your mind until you heard small soft whimpers.

You changed your position, now you're facing Sooyoung. You waited for that sound again, because you thought that your mind is just messing around. Was it Sooyoung? Or maybe that was Wonwoo? Her roommate, who's sleeping soundly on the other side of the room. Nah, it won't be him. It sounded like a girl's, you thought.

You were about to sleep when you heard something again, and this time, you were sure that it was Sooyoung.

The room was dimly lit, but when you adjusted to the darkness you saw Sooyoung rubbing herself. The hem of her dark blue night gown lifted up to her thigh. Your heart beat went crazy, not knowing what to do.

"Ohh," she moaned quietly. You can't stop watching pleasuring herself. It's a new sight for you. You've known her for years and you never knew she has this side of hers. You were always bickering with each other but you always thought that she was all this innocent.

You felt hot, wishing Sooyoung won't notice.

You slightly moved, turning yourself more towards her, to watch more clearly. Sooyoung stopped for a second, scanning your face before going back to rubbing again.

You can't help it anymore, and moved again, this time your arm flinging over to her side making sure to lightly brush her thigh before resting your arm on her stomach.

"Shit," she whispered to herself, not being able to continue anymore. You felt her try to pull your arm away but you just changed your position, your leg now brushing up to her thigh. You can feel her body heat and heaving, getting turned on even more.

You felt her stop for a few minutes.

She then finally rested her hand on top of yours.

You found it cute not until she lifted your hand and put it over her wet pussy. Your eyes instantly opened, obviously shocked at what she did. Damn, she's not wearing an underwear.

"I knew it, you're awake." She whispered, you tried to pull your hand away but she gripped it tighter.

"Can you help me with this one? Please?" She begged as she bit her lip as she guided your hand to her cunt. You gulped. With shaky hands, you found yourself messing with the hem of her sleepwear.

'Why are you nervous? She literally asked you for this.' You thought. Sooyoung squeezed her clothed breast as she waits for your next move. You were contemplating for a second before whispering "fuck it" under your breath and placed your hand over her shaved pussy.

You traced her vagina with your middle finger. You pressed it between her folds, finding her clit with ease.

"Oh- fuck... this is way better than using my own fingers- god!" You watched her covering her mouth with her own hands, feeling the sensation you've been giving her. For some reason, you liked how's this going.

You circled her clit. You can feel how warm and wet she have had become. Sooyoung was trying so hard not to make a noise when you added another finger inside her. Her breathing became heavy and a little unsteady. You placed your other arm underneath her to pull her body closer to you.

"Does it feel good, Sooyoung?" You whispered in her ear that earned you a grip on your forearm.

"Feels so good," she croaked. The rain was too loud. Wonwoo won't probably hear what's happening between you two, right?

You placed soft kisses on the side of her neck as you increased the pace of your fingers. You can feel her body wriggle from the pleasure. You loved how every time you went deeper, her grip on you got tighter.

"Just like that," she whispered. You kept hitting the spot she could barely reach with her own fingers. Sooyoung arched her back, palming her tits as she grinds against your fingers, trying to reach that delicious high she's been aching to have. Her breath quickens as you hit the spot inside her, your fingers scissoring her tight hole.

"Ohhh," then she exploded. Sooyoung's cum wets your fingers. It took her a minute to calm down. You caressed her thighs as you wait for her to calm down from how she fell apart from the build-up you managed to give her.

"You owe me one," you told her, whispering in her ear while still stroking her soft skin.

#girl group x male reader #joy smut #kpop smut #park sooyoung smut #red velvet joy smut

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