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xetlynn · 1 month ago

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arcane imagines- claggor

don’t go

[arcane] [main page] 🔞⚠️content warning⚠️🔞: SMUT prompt: Claggor is jealous of an old friend of yours who rarely comes into town. He doesn't hide it either. containing: afab reader, fem receiving oral, unprotected sex, pull out method, vanilla tbh.

“I’ll be right back.” Claggor tells you, going off further into the market to get the both of you drinks as you were looking over artwork. “Okay, I’ll be waiting!” You beam, now left alone to admire everything.

The two of you have been flirting for a while, it honestly feels like a game of tag. The only reason he’s at the market with you is because you lied about needing a new mirror for your room and needed someone to carry it for you. You’ve been waiting for this man to make it official. Or at least end this so you can move on with your life. You knew for a fact though that you weren’t going to be the one to say a single thing.

As you were looking over a booth full of mirrors of all different shapes and sizes you felt someone come up from behind you. Confidently thinking it’s Claggor you turn around with a grin. “I think this is the one- oh… Caspian?” You furrow your eyebrow. “[Name], I was hoping I was right when I saw you!” He laughs, opening his arms expecting an embrace. You eye him up and down but then eventually give into it. Squeezing him. “I haven’t seen you in forever!” You exclaim excitedly.

“Yeah, been off doing random quests.” He jokes, pulling away with a lopsided smile. “Right, how has that been?” You fold your arms, curious to know. “Eh, y’know. A lot, maybe I can tell you over dinner. Tonight?” He boldly asks and you purse out your lips.

You really didn’t have anything to do. You were kind of hoping to have a night with Claggor but you also haven’t seen Caspian in three years. You can always spend time with the boy tomorrow. With Caspian you never know when he’s going to stay or leave town. With a shrug of your shoulders you answer him. “Yeah, I know the perfect place to go!” You say, pulling out a little notebook and pencil from your bag you scribble down the address before ripping the page and handing it to him.

You didn’t see Claggor there, holding both yours and his drinks with a scrunched, annoyed expression. Slowly making his way over as the two of you talked. “Hey! Who’s this?” Claggor speaks up, handing you your drink and you thank him with a cheerful countenance, immediately taking a sip of the beverage.

“This is Caspian, the one friend I told you about! He travels overseas.” You remind him, subconsciously leaning into his arm. Your friend notices this between the two of you and holds back a small grimace. “Ah, sorry, don’t really remember. I’m Claggor.” He sticks his hand out, the boy in front of both of you places a fake smile upon his lips. Taking Claggor’s hand bitterly. Giving it a rough grip. “Nice to meet you, who are you to [Name]?”

“[Name]’s… boyfriend.” He hesitantly answers and your eyes widen, utterly shocked by the words. “Oh no way, man. Congrats to the both of you. I was just telling [Name] here how we should chat over dinner tonight.” Caspian finally rips his hand away from Claggor’s. Both men seething with irritation.

“Really?” Claggor glances down at you and you nod your head. “You should come! It’d be so fun!” You gleam, taking another gulp of your drink. Oblivious to the two’s behavior as you’re still caught up in the fact that Claggor called himself your boyfriend. “Ah, we’d understand if you couldn’t though.” Caspian comments, only adding fuel to the fire.

“I’ll be there. No worries about that!” Claggor stands up straight, he toward over your friend. “Great! Can’t wait to see the both of you later tonight then. Say, 6pm?” He cocks his head to the side and you nod your head. “Perfect! See you then, Cas!” You say as he’s already walking away. You turn around back to the mirror you had your eyes on.

Claggor watches your demeanour, did him calling himself your boyfriend scare you off? Was that an idiotic move? Did he ruin this between the both of you?

But those thoughts quickly disperse at the next couple of words that exit out your muzzle. “So, boyfriend of mine, carry this mirror for me.” You teasingly smack his arm, pointing to the object with your drink in hand. He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re fine with it?” He questions and you stick the tip of your tongue out as you pretend to think. “Mmm, I’d like to be properly asked out but I’m fine with it.” You hint to him as you head over to the booth owner, giving them money for the mirror before leaving.

Claggor carrying the body mirror in one arm as the other is snaked around your waist. Listening to you yap about how excited you are for later tonight. Only causing his chest to ping with jealousy. He doesn’t know why, genuinely he’s not a jealous person. But seeing you with Caspian who was clearly trying to flirt with you just… bothered him.

And as you unlock the door to your apartment, letting him in first and you tell him to just place the mirror down against the wall. Needing to figure out a good place to put it in your room.

“Want to hang out until tonight?” You offer, throwing your bag on your couch as you head to your kitchen. “Of course I do.” He scoffs, awkwardly standing in your living room as if he hadn’t been here plenty of times.

“No need to be so sassy.” You giggle, searching around in your fridge, boredly. You didn’t know what to do, with a sigh you closed the door. Standing straight up to now see Claggor behind you. “Have you ever had feelings for Casper?” He tilts his head and you give a confused guise.

“Caspian? Haha! Are you jealous?” You poke his side. Going to move past him but he doesn’t let you. “Answer the question, Angel.” He lowly orders and you look taken aback at first but then you attempt to hold a smirk threatening to appear on your lips. “So what if I have?” You ask with an “innocent” expression.

“I don’t want to go to the dinner.” He suddenly pouts, his strong standing demeanor suddenly vanishing. You chuckle, holding onto his arm. “Claggor, I have never felt a single romantic feeling for Caspian. He’s a friend and nothing more. But if you don’t want to go to dinner tonight. That’s okay.” You pat his chest, finally able to move around him, heading back to the living room.

A frown still graces his face as he follows after you. “But you’d still be going?” He inquires and you look back at him with raised eyebrows. “Yes.”

“Could I change your mind?” He traces a hand up and down your forearm and shivers shoot through you. “And how would you do that?” You ask, intrigued now. “It would be worthwhile… I promise.” He takes your hand, lifting it to his lips.

You bite your bottom lip. “Your jealousy is making you think very lewd… things.” You whisper as his lips now hover over your own. Your breathing was ragged and racing. “Not my jealousy, only you.” He disagrees before pulling you into a kiss. Closing the gap in a quick motion. You gasp against his mouth.

The two of you have kissed before, it was always short and sweet. Nerves within the both of you always cut things before it could lead into something further. You lift yourself up, holding onto his shoulders as your leg swings to the other side of him. Now straddling his lap.

Your lips lock with one another, impatient and expectant of more. Your hands glide up his neck to his hair as his own grasp onto your hips. Subtly roaming down… and down… until they’re holding your ass. You giggle into the kiss, peaking an eye open. Feeling his own smug smile against your lips.

Your perk your ass out even more, indicating that you wanted more but it also causes your core to gingerly rub against his already semi-boner. He grunts quietly from the friction. You feel it too, it was too pleasurable to not do it again. Discreetly you make your hips rock back and forth, lolling onto him.

Your fingers massaged into his scalp, feeling through his hair as you continue to grind your pelvis over his clothed private. His large hands knead your doughy, globular ass, finding true enjoyment in it. He can’t help but think how Casper… or whatever his name was would love to be in his position right now.

You withdraw from his mouth, puffing out air as your eyes examine his face. “I need you.” You murmur, pecking his parted lips. “Need me?” He quizzes as you fervently, eagerly nod your head. “Mhm, please.” You mewl out, plantering kisses all over his jaw. “So greedy.” He pops his hips up to get closer to the edge of the couch. You let out a small noise at the movement causing him to smirk. “Let’s go to the room. More comfortable.” He holds the bottom of your thighs. His fingers were close to your aching cunt.

You nod your head but you go straight to his neck, ambushing it with kisses and little suckles. Definitely leaving faint marks.

Entering your room he lays you down on your bed but your legs still wrap around his waist. Your hips in the air. He laughs at you and you reach your arms up. “I wasn’t done!” You complain but he just gently pushes your wrists away, throwing his shirt off.

Your mouth shuts, you want to clench your thighs together but can’t.

You do the same, ripping your own shirt off, not wasting time as your bra goes with it. He gawks down at your naked chest as you proudly show it off. “Touch me.” You whine, wiggling your hips on his. He obliges, leaning down to give you what you want. His hands go straight to the mounds on your chest. His mouth latching onto your nipples as well. Taking turns with the both of them. You lay your head back on the bed. Closing your eyes at the feeling.

He was subtly rutting his hips against you like before and moans escape past your lips.��

“So pretty” He mumbles, his hands sliding down your body to your pants. “I want to take these off.” He huffs, forcing you to release your hold on him with your legs. He roughly yanks the clothing off, not even a warning before he does it. You were bewildered by the boy. You haven’t seen him act so… horny before. He’s teased you on countless occasions, but he was so respectful. Tasteful? Right now he is full of yearning and ferventness.

Your legs were still spread to either side of him so he could fit perfectly between them. Giving him the view of his dreams. He didn’t give you time before his face was right in front of your soaked pussy. You lifted your head to stare down at you. Claggor peers up to you before smiling.

“Can I?” He asks and you glare at him. “Don’t make me wait. It’s rude.” You sternly tell him. Partly joking but mainly serious. You were antsy now. There was no backing out. There was no stalling. You wanted it. Needed it even. And so did he. So without skipping a bit he dives into his delicious meal ahead of him.

His tongue swirls over your folds and your hands immediately find their way to his hair. “I’m so glad you got jealous!” You cry as he begins to eat you out.

It felt like whatever you thought of heaven to be like. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Toes curling. You wanted to feel angry with how he held this from you. The magic of his mouth. You truly were ecstatic that he couldn’t handle his own grown boy emotions of being jealous of a childhood friend of yours.

He hums into your pussy at your words, grumbling about what you had just said to him.

But even with how good it felt you had to push his face away from your cunt. “I need you inside me, I can’t handle it.” You roll your hips forward, almost off of the mattress and he snickers at your neediness. “I need to prep you, angel.” His thumb rubbed up and down your thigh and you jut out your bottom lip. “I can take it. Promise.”

He clicks his tongue, bearing his teeth. “As much as I want to, no, [Name].” He shakes his head and your face falls in disappointment. His mouth was coaxed with your juices and his eyes fell back down to the reason for it. “I’ll be quick” He swears as his fingers go to your cunny.

His middle and ring delicately sliding down from your clit to your hole. Purposely antagonizing you by being slow.

As his digits enter inside you his tongue reattaches to your clit. Playing with it. His fingers scissoring inside of you, stretching out your walls.

Your liquids make squelching noises, starting off quiet but growing ever-so-quickly. He focused on your gratifying spots. Hooked on them, not giving them a break. He learned and adapted quickly to you. Studying every fidget, every moan from your vocals, every twitch of your cunt. Educating himself on what you enjoy. And what’s going to get you closer to your sweet, sweet release.

“Sweet angel, that feel good?” He mutters against you and you let out an incomprehensible bunch of words. Nonetheless answering his question though. Your muscles tightened in your thighs as you held them in the air. Tummy flexing and you wanted to scream out from how you feel.

“I- ‘most there!” You squeal, your nails puncturing your own skin on your hips as you hold yourself. “Good girl, cum all over my fingers.” His fingers thrust in and out of you, going back to sucking on your nub. “F-fucking- idont- mmm…” You babbled consistently, not able to do anything else as your body squirmed the closer your orgasm approached.

And as that wave hit, you were seeing stars. Your mouth held open, the air in your throat not even able to exit. Your cheeks are flushed and warm.

And even as you cum he’s lapping up every ounce of it. Not letting any of it go to waste.

As you calm down from what felt like a once in a lifetime ejaculation you lay there almost lifeless. Numb to his mouth that wasn’t letting up. “Claggor…” Your hands grasp at him, weakly shoving him away. “S-stop…” You whine.

“Alright, angel.” He coos, going back up, kissing you sweetly as his hands worked on pulling his pants down. “Before I give you what you want�� Tell me we’re not going to that dinner tonight.” He gazes down at you and suddenly the post-orgasm drunkenness you felt completely dispersed. Your eyes landing on him. “What?”

“I don’t want you to go.” He tells you truthfully and you giggle. “Claggor… fuck me and I’ll give you an answer.” You wrap your legs around him and push him forward. His weight landing atop of you and you grin. “[Name], but I said-”

“Fuck, Clags. Please.” You interrupt him.

He couldn’t deny you at that. Swiftly he pulls his cock out. Spitting in his hand before rubbing it on his member. “There we go~” You sing, mouth watering at the sight as he lifts himself back up to line up with your tight, glistening hole.

He scoffs but still gifts you precisely what you crave and wish for. Sheathing inside of you, inch by inch.

Your walls clenching and unclenching on him. He swallowed down roughly at the feeling. Still tasting you on his tongue. Once fully inside of you he keeps himself in place until you tell him to move.

And as those words hit his ears he’s moving at a delectable pace. And as he does his hands roam all over you. Squeezing all over your curves. Getting to feel what he only thought he could imagine in his mind. Getting to experience it was something he had only wished for.

Your smaller hands grasp onto his. Bringing them to your chest. His eyes were dark, glossed over as he admired every inch of you. Your eyes were shut, it was too much.

“Look at me, please- wanna see your beautiful eyes.” He begs, squishing your boobs within his hands. Kneading and playing with them. You did as told, sheepishly smiling up at him. His heart fluttered and the only thing he could think to do is forcefully kiss you. Lifting your left leg over his shoulder.

“Deep! ‘S deep, Clags!” You sob, claw at his arms. “Sh-shit! You’re really squeezing me, angel.” He groaned, this angle had him fighting for his life.

“S-sorry…” You mewl, bringing your other leg over his other shoulder. Having a hard time keeping it in the air yourself. “Gonna cum soon, where do you want me?” He grunts as he asks you, sweat dripping from his forehead.

“My mouth, wanna taste you.” You say, and seconds later you feel empty. Your hole gaping, clenching onto nothing.

You hurriedly get off the bed, sitting on your knees, mouth open for him. Your own hand went to your pussy, swirling around your clit to reach another high. Your eyes were closed as you await Claggor.

Tongue on display, he jerks himself off. “O-oh fuck!’ He crumbles forward as his semen spurts out. Velvet ropes of cum splattering your face. Barely hitting your tongue where it was supposed to go.

At the same time your body trembles at your own orgasm. You smile as you lick up the cum around your mouth.

As he catches his breath, he looks down at you. Now embarrassed at what he did as his ejaculation was in your hair and all over your beautiful face. Your already drenched fingers go and wipe at some of it. Putting it in your mouth and you sucked on them.

“T’s real good.” You inform him, standing from your spot and plopping down on the bed. He joins you with a huff. “Sorry, gonna have to thoroughly wash that out.” He tried to pick it out of your hair and you laughed. “Guess we might miss that dinner then.” You say with a knowing smile and he perks up. He looks over at the time and it’s only 3.

He knits his eyebrows together, confused.

“I thought you wanted to go?” He quizzes and you shrug your shoulders. “Found something more worthwhile.” You press a lip to his cheek. Getting his nut onto his face.

You were going to have to call Caspian, hoping that he has the same phone number and let him know you weren’t going to make it.

#arcane #arcane smut #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane claggor #claggor x reader #claggor smut #claggor x fem reader #claggor #claggor arcane #claggor x you #claggor x y/n

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luveline · 1 year ago

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that spencer x bombshell one you just posted has me giggling and kicking my feet I think I’m in love with YOU 🫵

Now I’m thinking of spencer x bombshell where the team starts to not view reid as unwillingly tortured by her flirting. Like maybe Morgan makes a comment to reid about something he does and is like “don’t torture the poor girl” and he’s like oh shit I’M the one torturing too now?

im in love with YOU !! for you, ty for requesting ♡ fem

“Difficult,” you say, resting your head on the table.

“I know.” Spencer wiggles his pen back and forth between two fingers, thinking hard. This case is proving to be indecipherable. None of the details want to add up, and no clear profile geographical or otherwise appears.

“Useless.”

“Who, me or you?”

“Us.” You sigh morosely. “Mostly me.”

You're not being serious. Spencer huffs a soft laugh and continues to turn the details over in his head. You open your notebook and scratch down a couple of sentences with a pen, a visual thinker. Your mind map turns to a second iteration and then a third. You can't connect the dots because they're too far apart from each other; Spencer can't do it either. Not alone.

He scoots his chair as close to yours as possible, your knees touching, his elbow in your side. “Can I look?” he asks.

“Of course you can. Sorry about my handwriting.”

He shakes his head. Your handwriting is perhaps the only thing about you he wouldn't say was one hundred percent perfect. You can't control it like other things. It is perfect, in a way, because it's yours, but you've been writing quickly and he struggles to make out the occasional letter.

He leans in toward the page. “What's this word?” he asks.

You lean in to see it. “Coruscated.”

“The swimming pool?” he asks, lifting his face to yours. You're closer now, and beautiful like this. He can see the powder under your eyes, the lines in your irises, the slight fading of your lipstick at the corners of your mouth. There's an eyelash on your cheek. He lifts a hand to wipe it away. “What's so important about that?”

“It reminded me of something…” You pause as he touches your face. “Something…” Your voice lilts up in question, half-shudder.

“Eyelash,” he explains, blowing it off of his finger.

“Right,” you say, eyes oddly wide and soft at once, your eyebrows lifted at the starts.

“You okay?”

“Is she okay? Reid, you're torturing the poor girl. Give her some air,” Morgan says with a chuckle.

Spencer leans backwards in surprise, no idea what Morgan could possibly mean. Your eyes relax as you regain some personal space, your hands coming together loosely in your lap. You laugh weakly.

Spencer looks you up and down. He's torturing you? That doesn't make sense. For as long as you've known one another, the team has joked that your flirty ways and feminine wiles are too much for Spencer to handle. You once gave him an apology he didn't want, worried you actually were hurting him by being your playful self, and he'd set that straight immediately. You don't torture him. It's a lot of feelings to be doted on so much by you, and painful isn't one of them. Overwhelming, sometimes, and exciting, sure.

He never realised he had the power to overwhelm you. Not until that moment. You offer a funny smile far from your usual smirk and try to steamroll Morgan's claim. “Guess I should've made a wish.”

“What would you wish for?” Spencer asks quietly.

You still. Morgan shakes his head in disapproval, but he laughs again and stands up. “I think they'd call that a taste of your own medicine, sweetheart,” he says to you.

You meet Spencer's eye. “I think they would,” you say bashfully.

For three blissful seconds, Spencer enjoys the reality of having made you flustered. You, gorgeous, confident you, left flushed and a little daunted by his casual actions and simple (maybe slightly flirtatious) questioning. But then he remembers how much he likes you and pushes it away.

“Sorry,” he says, plastering a smile over uncertain lips, “I didn't mean to do that.”

“No, it's okay.”

He turns to your notes, but gives you a look from the side. “I hope you wished for someone to solve the case. We're never getting anywhere like this.”

“Are you saying you can't?” You rest your chin in your hand. “And here I thought you were more than a pretty face.”

You have a quick recovery rate, evidently.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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fayes-fics · 5 months ago

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The Secrets We Keep: Pt I

Part II >>

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Knowing someone your whole life doesn’t mean they can’t surprise you…

Warnings: none yet… fluff and angst. Childhood friends, yearning, arranged marriage, kissing. Pt II will contain a warning/rating change.

Word Count: 5.1k (this part)

Authors Note: Part 1 of 2. My longest gestating WIP! It’s been more than 18 months since I received a request for this secret diary fic. Tulip Anon, I have no idea if you still follow me, but I hope you think I did your detailed request justice. I won't post your ask yet, as it contains spoilers for the second half. Betaed by the awesome @colettebronte, who I can’t thank enough. I’m in the process of writing Pt II, so there will be a gap between instalments. Enjoy! 🫶

-i-

For as long as you can remember, you have loved one man secretly. To the point that you cannot imagine your life without a deep, burning affection simmering in your very core, as fundamental to your existence as drawing air into your lungs.

Benedict Bridgerton.

Your families have been neighbours in Mayfair and Kent for many generations—two aristocratic dynasties that, despite enduring friendships, have never seen intermarriage. There have been attempted matches down the years, according to family lore, but nothing came to fruition.

So when you were brought to Aubrey Hall as a mere babe in arms, the eldest daughter, there were many good-natured jokes that Anthony’s future wife had been born. But the Viscount, wonderful as he is, was not the man who stole your heart just a few short years later. A bright sunny day in June that you suspect Benedict may not even be able to recall, but you can with perfect clarity, even now, some fifteen years later.

He picked you as the first person to join his team for a round of garden games. Paying you heed and ensuring you were included, patiently showing you the ropes and applauding your achievements, ignoring the ridicule from the other twelve-year-old boys for letting a girl - and a little five-year-old at that - join in their games.

Ever since that day, all you have ever seen is his enormous heart and steadfast empathy: always the one to reach out to those excluded, to be supportive, and to love harder and more expansively than his siblings. Thus, unsurprisingly, he became the focus of your singular devotion—a childish adoration transmuting into something more profound and complicated as you matured.

On your fourteenth birthday, your mother gifted you a thick notebook. And it became your refuge, the private canvas on which you outlet your innermost secrets and thoughts. The beautiful but now slightly battered, silk-covered tome is still your most treasured possession even now, more than six years later, so close to filled now, with only a couple of blank pages left. Never long from your hands, but when it must be, carefully stashed under the floorboards of your bedroom. Its pages the reflection of a naive, growing heart. There is one person who features frequently on its crammed, jumbled pages. Sketches of his handsome face, mostly from memory, interspersed with ardent notes and poems that, while they may not mention his name, are written for him. Adoration writ large in every pen and pencil stroke.

Little were you to know that the secrets you keep within its hallowed pages would one day alter the course of your life…

-ii-

It's the evening of the Bridgerton Ball, and usually, you would be brimming with anticipation for such an occasion, a chance to see the man who holds your most ardent admiration. Instead, you find yourself glum, mechanically stepping into the dress your ladies' maid Rachel assists you with, staring blankly into the vanity mirror as she adorns your hair with jewels. Still reeling from your father's shocking announcement the previous day.

The inheritance of a European title had seen him spend eighteen months abroad. In his absence last spring, you were able to persuade your more indulgent mother to delay your societal debut—a yearning to be free in the ways you know no woman really can be for long. A compounding factor was spending the summer in the Highlands with her sister, your Aunt Eliza, a spirited, independent woman who taught you many things and encouraged your artistic whims. And when you were back in London, your mother’s somewhat inattentive running of the house meant you were often able to slip away in the evenings, spending your time deepening your passion for art. Frequenting galleries and conversing with artists led to you being drawn into the bohemian, artsy underbelly of Bloomsbury, a beguiling, exotic contrast to Mayfair. Another secret you keep.

Upon his return to England, your father was not best pleased to learn that not only had you been allowed to skip the previous Season, but Eliza had also taught you to fish, fence and hunt—most unladylike pursuits in his opinion. He, therefore, made it his mission to ensure not only would you debut this year but also a swift match should be made, lest you “get other fanciful, dangerous ideas”.

Perhaps that is why, yesterday, nary two weeks into your first season, he abruptly announced over afternoon tea that he had secured a match for you and the man in question would be dining with you all that evening. A deal no doubt brokered in a private gentleman’s club as if you were merely chattel to be traded.

Revulsion filled your every fibre as you were introduced to Lord Farringdon a few hours later. A wiry man twenty years your senior with a hawk-like countenance and a disdainful disposition. Apparently, a brilliant intellectual mind but accompanied by a mercurial, malevolent reputation. You had read in Whistledown rumours about his mistreatment of his household staff and his previous wife. A forlorn figure who became a recluse long before she died of consumption tragically young. The idea of being betrothed to this cold, abusive man turned your stomach—a seemingly outsized punishment for your rebellion. Once the man left, you had begged and pleaded with your father to reconsider the arrangement, but sadly, your appeal fell on deaf ears.

And so here you are. Going to a ball at which your father plans to announce your engagement. The stately beauty of Bridgerton House is not as heartening of a sight as it typically is. Tonight, it feels more akin to a gallows.

As soon as you arrive, you are scanning the crowds for the only friend you know will understand just how ghastly your predicament is—Eloise Bridgerton. A kindred spirit whose interest in marriage is as scant as your own. Bonding over your similar yearnings for freedom, you have been good friends since you were little, many a day spent together as children running through the Kentish fields, escaping expectation and flouting convention.

Acutely aware of time running out until your father speaks up, you fiddle distractedly with your fan, impatiently awaiting her entrance.

“For heaven's sake, y/n, please cease your fidgeting!” your mother chastises under her breath, snatching away the item. “I do not see why you are so agitated. Tonight is to be a wonderful occasion for you!”

A myriad of caustic comments are on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down. The last thing you want is to draw attention, and you certainly don't want to be gossip fodder; these ballrooms are a veritable hotbed of eavesdropping if Whistledown is anything to go by.

When the collective Bridgerton family finally enter their ballroom as hosts, however, your eyes can't help but drift to Benedict instead. A reflex from years of longing, even though it is his sister, arm looped into his, whose counsel you seek tonight. You excuse yourself to fetch a lemonade as soon as you spy a window of opportunity—Eloise standing alone, looking excessively bored. Abandoning your glass, you hurry over to her.

“I have news…” You try to keep your voice neutral but grab her arm and practically drag her away from anyone within earshot.

“Well, it cannot be good if you are willing to rip my arm off to impart it,” she remarks dryly as you lead her down a hallway.

“It is not,” you pull a face that you know will convey to her the gravity of what you need to divulge.

With a nod of understanding and a look to a nearby footman, she leads you beyond him into an area of the house off-limits for guests.

“Tell me…” her tone is sincere as she ushers you into the library and closes the door.

“My father has seen fit to arrange a marriage for me. He is planning to announce it tonight, right here at your family ball!”

She says nothing, only a sympathetic noise as she pulls you into a consoling hug. The emotions you have been tamping down for hours escape as a couple of bitter tears, her arms banding tight around you. You are not sure how long, but you stand in a hug, just grateful for her steadfast support.

“What am I to do?” you whisper.

“I do not know,” she confesses. “Have you tried to reason with your father?”

“A hopeless cause…”

Her mouth twists in understanding, knowing you will have put up a spirited defence as much as she would have. She detangles from you and goes to a nearby brandy decanter.

“It's the very least you deserve, frankly,” she points out, handing you a glass and pulling you into a loveseat with her, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, clinking her glass against yours in a silent but bittersweet toast about your seemingly futile situation.

-iii-

Half an hour later, your parents are distracted across the far side of the room with friends when a large hand grabs yours out of the blue. You startle when you realise it is Benedict, your heart suddenly in your mouth. Before you know it, you are wordlessly being pulled out of the French doors behind you and into the night air.

“Where are we going!?” you demand when you recover from the initial surprise, his gloved hand tugging yours along through the darkened gardens.

“Shh, make haste, we must not be seen,” he hushes you but keeps moving, furtive and fast, your feet having to take extra steps to keep up with his long stride over the lush, dewy grass.

“Benedict…” you try again once you round a thick hedge into the rose garden. “What is going on?”

He slows a little but does not relinquish his tight hold. Gravel path now crunching under his boots as the honeyed scent of damask hangs heavy in the air.

“Eloise told me,” is all he offers. “So we are escaping.”

“W-we are?” you stutter, frowning, a claggy tumult behind your ribs at his use of ‘we’.

“Yes! Or at least we would be if you would keep quiet… please…” he amends, sounding a touch contrite about his initial brusqueness, but speeding up again, headed straight for a small wooden door in a high stone wall, almost hidden behind long, draping ropes of ivy, glowing silver in the moonlight.

When you reach it, he releases his grip on your hand and shoulders the door open with considerable force. The weathered wood creaks loudly, almost splintering under the duress. He signals to the inky blackness of the deserted mews behind Bridgerton House.

“It is now or never, y/n,” he warns as you look back at the house, lit up with the life of the ball inside. “So what is your choice?”

He may be presenting it as an option, but really, you know there would only ever be one answer. You would accompany him to the ends of the earth if he so much as asked. And so wordlessly, you step through the doorway and into the narrow street beyond.

“Good choice,” he compliments as he follows suit and closes the door behind him. “You may stay at my friend Granville’s tonight,” he offers sagely, “I have not seen him in a while, but I will explain when we arrive; I am certain he can provide shelter.”

“Benedict, I already know Henry… Quite well, in fact.”

He looks taken aback as if it had not occurred to him that you may move in the same clandestine circles as he does. To be fair, you have always been discreet in your outings, and it’s not something you have divulged to anyone, including Eloise. Still, what confounds you more is why he is suddenly so seemingly invested in seeing you escape from your predicament. It doesn't entirely make sense.

“Well, then,” he cuts into your brief reverie, “you know Henry is a generous host and discreet about the affairs of others. Your father will not come looking for you there. It will buy some time to figure out what to do next. To ensure your freedom.”

“Freedom?” You scoff. “Benedict, as much as I may wish it, there is no other path open to me. Tonight is merely a delay tactic at best. The only way to stop my father’s pursuit of this union is if I marry another….”

The admittance of this truth out loud makes you restless, belatedly realising that it truly is your only way out. You stalk towards the main road, the faint glow of the street lamp guiding your way over the cobbles. You soon hear Benedict’s footsteps behind.

“That is ridiculous!” he exclaims as he attempts to catch up with you. “There are other options available to you…”

“Such as?” you whip around, raising your hands, countering his assertion. When he falters, you return to walking, throwing a tart addition over your shoulder: “Unlike you, a man, I do not have the freedom of choice.”

“You should always have a choice…” he counters earnestly, still catching up to your furious pace.

“Should and do are different things, Benedict. You do not even know how lucky you are!” You add bitterly, rounding onto the main street.

A gust of wind causes you to pause and a shiver to run down your arms, your gauzy dress not enough to ward off the unseasonable chill in the air tonight. Ever the observant gentleman, Benedict shucks his jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. Uncharitably, your ire makes you attempt to shake it off, even while knowing it is intended purely as a chivalrous gesture. You are surprised when he seems to grasp your shoulders tighter, holding the heavy velvet in place. It is cloaked in his woodsy, citrus scent, your vexed state turning into an entirely different type of flush as he crowds closer to you.

“My birth has allowed me certain privileges, I concede,” he replies, his stare seemingly far away as you are unable to look anywhere but the dampness of his bottom lip, shimmering slightly in the lamplight. Then he tilts his head down to meet your eyes. “But that does not mean I am able to have everything I wish for in life, y/n…”

Your tongue burns to ask what it is that he wants but cannot have, yet you do not allow yourself to pry. But seeing the wistfulness in his gaze deflates your irritation, your long-held adoration for this man taking over, making you sigh.

‘You deserve the world, Benedict….’

His face morphs into one of breathtaking intensity, and you realise, horrified, you spoke those thoughts aloud.

“As do you, y/n,” he murmurs, eyes sincere, your heart beating wildly as his chest vibrates against your own.

The upheaval of the last day, the man you secretly adore abetting a somewhat daring escape, your heated exchange of words, the lateness of the hour, and the feel of his tall, lithe body pressed against yours…. It's all a dangerous cocktail that culminates in you being utterly impetuous, pushing up onto your tiptoes and mashing your mouth against his with no thought.

His lips are plush and warm, and suddenly, he is kissing you back. It's like a cannon firing in your chest as his warm mouth opens yours. Suddenly, you are urgently taking from each other. A sweeping tidal wave through you obliterates any kissing experiences you have ever had before. It’s a desperate slide of tongues, a passionate continuation of your sparring. His hands are like a hot brand through your thin dress as they sweep around to your back, tugging you into him, his heat, scent and taste overwhelming.

But all too soon you are pulling apart, a need for air in your lungs overriding the spontaneous, reckless moment. For a few seconds, you stare at each other, breathing each other's panted air, hands still grasping onto each other, almost confused by what just occurred… until the whinny of a passing horse carriage has you springing apart as if burned.

Realisation engulfs his entire being. “Oh god! Please, please forgive me!” he stutters, backing away, holding his hands out in a conciliatory gesture, almost tripping in his haste to put space between you, even though it was you who kissed him. “Please, just go to Granville,” he counsels rapidly before turning heel and disappearing into the night, leaving you standing alone, unmoored and breathless, utterly turned upside down.

-iv-

You drift home in a daze, your family’s London residence only a few hundred yards away. Your escape plans are forgotten in the haze of tumbling thoughts about that blistering kiss. How fervently and immediately Benedict had kissed you back, how wonderful it felt to be caged in his arms…. Climbing into bed and passing out, still bewildered. In fact, it’s only the rude awakening of your bedroom door slamming open the following morning that brings you crashing back to your senses.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” Your father roars, holding aloft what looks like the latest copy of Whistledown. “You have brought shame upon our family and likely ruination to your prospects!!”

Utterly alarmed, you sit bolt upright, blinking, taking a few moments before you can find your voice. “What are you referring to, father?”.

He glares at you, then throws the paper onto your bed and stalks out of the room without another word, puce with outrage. You know there will be crossed words at the breakfast table. The sight of your name on the crisp ivory page immediately draws your eye, and your stomach plunges as you read the paragraph:

The annual Bridgerton Ball last night was, once again, resplendent. A triumph that the dowager Countess can be rightfully proud of. Although less contentment could likely be gleaned from the behaviour of her offspring. The second eldest of whom was allegedly seen escaping into the unlit gardens hand in hand with none other than the most reluctant of this season's debutantes, the spirited Miss Y/n Y/l/n. Perhaps the rebellious Miss will not have to endure many more of society’s events that she so patently abhors, should a proposal from the most wayward of Bridgerton sons be forthcoming? I, for one, however, Dear Reader, am not holding my breath…

Hiding in your room as long as you can, hunger drives you to join the frosty lunch table, apologising for inadvertently ruining your father’s plans to announce your betrothal and meekly explaining the incident with Benedict as a complete misunderstanding. It was merely an old friend helping you to gather some air before the big news was to be proclaimed. His taking your hand was out of benevolent concern, nothing more, and when you suddenly felt unwell, he chivalrously saw you the few hundred yards home. The lies feel odd on your tongue, your thoughts only of Benedict’s mouth and body moulded hotly to yours as your father lectures about appropriate behaviour for a young lady and your family’s long-standing friendship with the Bridgertons not being an excuse for a lackadaisical attitude to impropriety.

“There is nothing else to be done now—I must secure you a special licence to be wed tomorrow before Lord Farringdon hears about this,” he decrees with finality, his tone brokering no argument.

You slump silently into your chair, dread creeping through every cell, silently chastising yourself for not following Benedict’s advice and running away. If only you hadn't been impetuous and kissed him, you might have been in your right mind to do so. It feels cruel that the one moment you chose to throw caution to the wind is the one moment that sealed a worse fate.

-v-

That afternoon, your mother ushers you to the Modiste, paying handsomely for a very rushed wedding dress. Something simple that can be finished at such a late hour. It will only be your family in attendance anyway; so much else seems unnecessary. As you stand forlornly upon the raised dias, ivory silk tacked up around you with pins; your mother announces she needs to depart to secure other last-minute arrangements, leaving your trusty ladies' maid to accompany you home once alterations are complete.

“You do not look a happy bride…” Madam Delacroix mutters after the tinkle of the bell above the door signals her departure.

“Your observation skills are certainly not lacking,” you respond quietly, craning to double-check that Rachel, your maid, is out of earshot, sitting listlessly in the front of the store, staring out of the window.

“I do read Whistledown, my dear,” she remarks delicately, “and this does not appear to be a dress someone marrying a Bridgerton would wear.”

Your stomach vaults at the implication; the thought of marrying Benedict has your heart going haywire, even as you know it would never happen. The crestfallen look as your mind flits to the awful man you will be marrying instead is one you cannot hide as she meets your eyes in the reflection.

“It is not indeed,” you sigh, “but Whistledown has rather accelerated my unfortunate fate. Hence the rushed dress…” you gesture to your outfit.

“Mr Bridgerton is a friend?” she digs delicately.

“Lifelong,” you admit, “but Lady Whistledown could not have been more erroneous in her assertions…”

“That you and Mr Bridgerton are together? Or that he would marry you?”

You look away from the mirror and down to where she is crouched by your hem on your left side, taken back not only at her astuteness but her drive for information. Almost as if she were Whistledown herself.

“I do not mean to pry,” she modifies, “merely to understand your predicament. Maybe I can be of assistance? I have privately counselled many a young lady on the eve of their wedding. Be it a happy occasion or not. And have kept many a secret of the Ton. ‘Tis the reason my business is so successful, Miss y/l/n. A good modiste can be a trusted confidante.”

“W-we are not together,” you stumble out without meaning to.

“But you wish to be? Or perhaps something has happened between you?”

Your eyes dart furtively, and your cheeks heat at the memory, but you say nothing.

“You need say no more,” she chuckles and offers a knowing smile that appears as much reminiscent as sympathetic.

You rapidly attempt to deflect. “I do not wish to be married to anyone, really. I do find it so unfair a man is free to pursue his passions in life, but merely due to my sex, I am not.”

There is a nod of understanding, and she stands up with her hands on her hips. “I keep a certain array of refreshments for special clients such as yourself.” She nods to what looks like a liquor cabinet partially obscured behind a curtain at the back of her shop. “If you can dismiss your maid, I can assist you on your last night as an unmarried lady.”

The suggestion is too intriguing to refuse. And Rachel will greatly appreciate your pin money.

A few hours later, you are sat upon a circular conversation chair, Gen, as she insists you call her, pouring you another snifter of brandy.

“Tell me, what is your passion?” she inquires, her polished French accent slipping a little, sounding far more East End than Parisian. Something about that makes you like her more.

“Art,” you answer wistfully, “not that I have many opportunities to practice beyond a private notebook. But it is my most prized possession.” You gesture to your pelisse, hanging on a nearby hook. “I have it with me always. I have sewn a secret pocket into all of my coats myself.”

“Ingenious! ” She declares. “You shall have my job one day!”

You laugh, feeling light for the first time in what feels like days, as Gen leans in, raising an eyebrow. “I can also see well why you may have bonded with Mr Bridgerton…”

You giggle and lower your eyes, taking a fortifying sip.

“But it is not just that, is it?” Her tone is thoughtful, delicate even, as she continues: “A life outside the boundaries of so-called polite society can be so very beguiling, can it not? I have seen you, Miss y/l/n, at parties in Bloomsbury…”

A panicked bile rises as your head snaps up.

“As I said before, I am always discreet,” she reassures, “your secret is more than safe with me,” she winks before taking a generous sip from her glass.

Possibly, it's the alcohol, but her understanding of your predicament and the fact she has, unbeknownst to you, moved in similar circles brings an odd sense of relief. Having a confidante, someone to finally share your secrets with, albeit a somewhat stranger, lifts a burden from your shoulders. Wonderful as Eloise is, being the sister of the man who secretly holds your heart is not without complications in many ways.

“Another?” she chimes animatedly, holding aloft the bottle.

You cannot resist that offer.

-vi-

It’s close to midnight when Gen loops her arm in yours as she guides you, quite inebriated herself, away from the hackney cab to the familiar abode of one Henry Granville. Her declaration that a party is what you need on your last night of freedom is definitely not one you would dispute. A myriad of heightened emotions roil inside as you await the door being answered: contentment at your newly cemented friendship with Gen, bewildered every time you think of your kiss with Benedict and abhorrence for tomorrow.

As you wander into the debauched tableau of a party in full swing: the air thick with smoke and merriment, the sounds of pleasure, people consorting together, a hedonistic swirl of self-expression unfurling all around you—it all consolidates into a yen to be reckless. Take part this time rather than just observe as you have before. Alcohol mutating the simmering rage about the injustice of your circumstance into a yearning to experience pleasure, especially physical. To get lost in sensation on your one last night of liberty.

So when you encounter Sir Simms - Matthew - friend to your older brother, renowned rake, but quite handsome, you throw caution to the wind. He seems delighted to see you, instantly flirtatious and familiar in a way you would rebuff any other night but this one. Whispering in your ear how very bold you are to be at such a bohemian event and pondering what other adventurous experiences you might be willing to indulge in. At one point Gen pulls you aside, her breath sweetened with fermented fruits, as she leans in and counsels you to be cautious. But you rebuff her concerns, swatting away her hold and returning to Matthew, allowing him to pull you into a kiss.

It’s not the same as with Benedict; your mind screams at the altogether more jarring experience. A wet invasion of tongue that is less pleasant and certainly doesn’t fire anything inside you the way that he had. Merely kindling a defiant resolve to rage against the dying light of your freedom. And so when he slurs into your ear, you consent to his invitation upstairs, knowing fully the implications of what will transpire—feeling vaguely detached from yourself as he pulls you along by the hand towards the staircase.

Suddenly, your field of vision is filled with dark blue velvet, a strong arm wrapping around you, caging you into a warm body mass, disconnecting your hand from Matthew’s—crossed words in two male voices. A momentarily confusing blur that only begins to make sense when you tilt your chin up… and the breath is quite stolen from your lungs.

Benedict.

At first, it feels like a cruel mirage, the man you most desire here to stymie your last gamble at impulsivity. His hold is strong as you sense Matthew shrink away, defeated by Benedict’s threat to expose some dalliance or other. But as he whisks you to an empty room within the house, all you feel bubbling up is anger.

“Stop trying to rescue me!” you rail, reeling out of his grip and stamping your foot to emphasise your point, uncaring that you may be behaving more akin to a petulant toddler.

“Stop making foolish decisions!” he lobbies back after a fleeting wounded look.

You glare at him momentarily before turning your back and staring out of the window into the inky blackness of Granville’s garden, frustration prickling a tear in the corner of your eye.

Behind you, there is a sigh; then his voice turns softer. “Why did you not follow my advice? I came here this morning only to be informed you never arrived…”

That he came to check on you weakens your bluster, although you still have no earthy idea why, once again, he is so invested in your actions. But you are not done saying your piece.

“What does it matter now?” you bite bitterly before spinning around to face him. “Benedict, we are in Whistledown. My father would have arranged a special licence for tomorrow regardless of whether I had come here or not…”

“He did what?” he splutters, shock almost choking the words.

You square your shoulders and cross your arms defensively. “I am to be married in the morning. 11am at St George’s.” When all he offers is floored silence, you uncharitably dig the knife in. “No thanks to you...”

Your words are like a body blow, a world of hurt in his quiet tone as he stares at the ground. “I was only trying to help.”

Regret floods your every cell; why you would choose to lash out at him, even you don't know—so many conflicting feelings and strong liquor coursing through you.

“Please… let me return to the party,” you sigh wearily, after a beat, gesturing to his blocking your exit from the room.

“You would regret what you were about to do until your dying day,” he attests, lifting his head, a vein on his forehead pulsing as his jaw tenses.

“Perhaps,” you shrug. “But that is my burden to endure, not yours.”

“I am your friend,” he frowns, “I will always want to alleviate your burdens…”

“I do not want a friend, Benedict, not tonight. I want a beau.” If you aimed to shock him, you are successful; a cavalcade of expressions warring on his face as you plough on. “So please move so that I may continue with my most inadvisable plan….”

“No.” It's soft but unequivocal, resolute.

When you realise he is not going to budge, you throw your hands up in exasperation. “What do you want from me, Benedict?”

There is a gruff noise in the back of his throat, and then, with two determined strides, he is pressed up against you, his breath hot on your face. Then he is kissing you, ferociously, wantonly, opening your mouth with his, his hands encircling your waist and pulling you roughly into him.

And you are lost.

masterlist • wips • taglist (follow this blog to be tagged)

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vivwritescrappythings · 7 months ago

Text

squeeze

tattoo artist!eddie munson x fem!afab!reader

Eddie is your tattoo artist and long term boyfriend, one night you have an idea of how to spice up your next tattoo session.

an: idk why I thought of this but I did

cw: fem and afab reader, needles, tattoos, unsanitary tattoo practices, don’t let anyone do this to you, p in v sex, cockwarming, masturbation, mild dubcon, mentions of marijuana use, i picture this version of eddie as older, masochism, swearing, dirty talk, not proofread.

wc: 2.3k

masterlist

MDNI

—

It was only after a few joints that you could have ever thought this was a marginally good idea. You and Eddie were well baked by the time you stumbled out of his van in the alley, eyes bloodshot and a wide smile on your face. The rest of the tattoo shop was dark as Eddie snuck you in the back door, the two of you giggling like vandals as though it wasn’t his shop. The keys jingled as he tucked them back into his pocket, nudging you toward his station.

He turned on the harsh fluorescent lamps surrounding the leather chair in the center of the small space. Paper screens separated it from the rest of the store, drawings and sketches stuck haphazardly all over the dividers and walls. “You’ve been drawing more,” you murmured, looking over the magnitude of new additions.

Eddie was already wiping down the chair and getting set up, looking over his shoulder at you with a hum of acknowledgment. You took in the way his shoulders filled out his worn Metallica shirt, his jacket hanging on a hook near the back door. There was something about his warm, chocolate-colored eyes that made your heart flutter every time he glanced at you.

“You gonna pick something out or just stare at me?” he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes, a little too stoned to come up with a response you considered to be clever enough. The wall of flash tattoos beckoned you closer. Eddie had given you countless tattoos at that point, insisting that dating a tattoo artist meant you had to get all your work done by him.

Anyone else would just be cheating.

It was how the two of you met five years ago: you came into the shop with a crumpled piece of paper with a book quote you loved scrawled onto it looking to get your very first tattoo. Eddie had stolen you from the guy who usually took the walk-in clients with a saccharine smile, ushering you to his little sectioned off area and charging you half what he normally would for a tattoo that size. You left with fresh ink and Eddie’s number, and the rest was history.

You squinted up at dozens of drawings crudely taped to the wall, admiring the smooth linework and the variety. There were a few from his Hellfire days, fleshed out Dungeons & Dragons monsters and sets of dice high up near the ceiling. The rest were the typical subjects: skulls and flowers and doodles of food and ghosts.

It was hard to decide, your arms folding over your chest as you worried your lower lip with your teeth. Normally it was a quick decision, you’d pick something off the wall or had an idea of your own and Eddie would be off to the races.

That time it took Eddie pulling out the battered notebook he insisted he did his best work in, his name scratched into the black cover. “How about this one? Been workin’ on it, thought it would look good on you,” he murmured, flipping it open to a page in the middle.

The drawing was beautiful, detailed and delicate while still fitting with the rest of your tattoos. You realized that Eddie was listening when you told him you wanted to tattoo your sternum a few months ago, the pages littered in drawings that were suited to the smooth patch of skin over the bone. As always, he knew what you wanted more than you did.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” you finally said, tracing it with your fingertip.

“Yeah? You sure?” Eddie asked, already rifling through drawers to put together a stencil.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as you sat back on the leather chair. “Matches everything else you’ve put on me,” you said, making yourself comfortable as he went off to trace out a stencil.

You fidgeted with the well-worn Corroded Coffin shirt you were wearing, running your fingers over the torn-up hem and looking up at the ceiling tiles Eddie had painted black.

Meeting Eddie must have been the luckiest moment of your life. You never thought that you’d find someone, for some reason you’d been convinced that you were beyond what anyone wanted—destined to be the old lady with the cats at the end of the street. But Eddie wanted you, he wanted you fiercely and with a passion that was almost startling sometimes.

“Alright, dove, shirt off,” Eddie said, startling you out of your thoughts. He rounded the corner with the stencil in hand, chocolatey eyes focused on you.

You complied, slipping the shirt off your head and tossing the fabric onto a nearby folding chair. The cold air in the shop made you shiver with just your pajama shorts on. You’d forgone wearing a bra, the trip to the tattoo parlor borne from a spontaneous idea you had in the living room of your shared apartment.

“Never gonna get tired of that,” Eddie mumbled, staring at your chest as you settled back onto the cold leather. You rolled your eyes as your face started to heat up, part of you wanting to cover your chest with your hands.

Eddie stood between your legs, rolling over the silver tray that held the little containers of ink and gloves and his machine. He’d already washed his hands, his fingers were cold as he shaved off the smattering of vellus hairs covering your skin. You squeaked when he wiped down your skin with an alcohol pad. His tongue poked out when he concentrated, his brow furrowed as he started to apply the stencil.

He pressed firm to get it to transfer, pulling the strip of paper away and reaching for a mirror for you to see it. It was weird to see yourself reflected back in the small hand mirror. You sat up to properly inspect how it looked between your tits, the U-shaped stretch marks between them catching and shining in the fluorescent light. The mirror tilted up, letting you see your own bloodshot, hazy gaze in the mirror. The blunts Eddie had rolled earlier were strong.

“Looks great, Eds,” you said, lips quirking into a grin as you settled back on the chair. Eddie hummed, letting the mirror drop with a clatter on his drawing space as he went to wash his hands again.

He came back ready, black latex gloves pulled over his hands and hair tied back in a low bun at the nape of his neck.

Bony hips knocked the insides of your thighs apart, your boyfriend curling down over you. “You still feeling up to the rest of this?” he asked, a brow lifting until it disappeared under his frizzy bangs. You were silent for a minute, taking in the sincerity of his expression. “You don’t have to if you’re not feeling right, dove. I can just do the tattoo and we can go home.”

You furrowed your brow, shaking your head and blurting out protests a little too eagerly. It made him grin, boyish charm returning to his stubble-ridden face as though he wasn’t a day out of high school.

“If you feel uncomfortable, what do you say?” Eddie prompted softly, leaning forward to nudge his nose against your temple. He didn’t touch you with his hands, keeping them sterile.

“Yoo-hoo,” you mumbled a little sheepishly. Eddie picked it, the safe word always made you roll your eyes.

He hummed sweetly, pressing a kiss just above your eyebrow. “That’s right,” Eddie said, the simple praise already making you feel warm.

You bit your lower lip as you looked up at him, watching him get the machine going and getting ink on the needles. It felt like your body was buzzing with anticipation, your knees squeezing at his waist.

“Help me out, can’t get my hands dirty,” Eddie said, twisting to fuss with something on the tray next to him. You didn’t care about what he was grabbing, only reaching forward to loop your fingers in the waistband of the sweatpants he was wearing. On a normal day he wouldn’t be caught dead here in sweatpants.

The original idea had come from you. Something in your stoned mind combined to make you ask Eddie if he’d ever thought about cockwarming while giving a tattoo. He looked at you like you’d grown a second head, but fifteen minutes later he wanted to bring your fantasy to life.

“Been so fucking hard ever since you brought this up,” Eddie hissed through his teeth as you pulled his sweatpants down over his cock. It slapped up against his stomach, the tip flushed red and already leaking. You swallowed thickly, reaching out to wrap your hand around him.

The soft moan coming from Eddie’s pink lips was gratifying in more ways than you expected, satisfaction making you feel warm as you looked up at him through your lashes.

“You want me to take my shorts off?” you asked quietly, tilting your head to one side. There was a thrill associated with being naked in the tattoo shop. Of course, it was the middle of the night as no one would have reason to be there, but it still felt scandalous all the same.

“Yeah,” he said, the harsh buzzing of the tattoo machine starting as he touched the needle to the ink. The sound was familiar to you now, part of you associating it with Eddie. “It’ll be complicated to do this if you leave them on.”

You rolled your eyes, letting go of him to strip yourself of your shorts. He cursed under his breath when he saw you completely naked on the chair. Brown eyes traveled over every curve and slope of your body, taking it all in with reverence as his tongue poked out to run over his bottom lip.

There was a brief pause, the two of you waiting for the other to do something. Eddie ended up taking charge.

“Play with yourself for me,” he mumbled, staring down at your cunt. His gloved fingers twitched. “Get her nice and wet.”

Your face heated up at his request, bashfulness binding your chest together for a moment. It was impossible not to comply with Eddie’s request, your fingers finding their place between your legs. You touched yourself without fanfare, your fingertips settling on either side of your clit and rubbing in tight circles.

His gaze was locked on your cunt, chin pressed to his chest and lips parted. Normally you would be embarrassed under that kind of focus, but the awe shining in Eddie’s eyes made your anxiety slip away.

Your movements were practiced and smooth, sending electricity up and down your spine. It was easy to get turned on, your breaths eventually becoming pants and wetness building up around your fingers. His jaw was clenching, you knew he wanted to pull your fingers away and touch you himself.

He huffed, swallowing hard before directing his gaze to your eyes. “Alright, let’s do this,” he said, stepping in closer between your legs. “Before I just decide to ruin my sterile environment and fuck you the right way.”

The idea was enticing, making you bite your lip as you considered. But you already came all the way down here and had the stencil placed and ink in the tattoo gun. And you wanted to make your fantasies happen.

You grabbed Eddie’s cock, your wet fingers smearing down the length of it. Of all the times you fucked, you almost never were the one to guide him inside of you. It was a bit clumsy as you dragged his tip through the soaked seam of your cunt, nudging against the swollen bud of your clit a few times.

Finally you hit your mark, Eddie’s deep moan filling the air as he slotted himself inside of you with a strong thrust. The patch of dark, soft curls at his base brushed against your already sensitive clit. The stretch made you see stars. Your head rolled back against the leather chair, a breathy whine pulling from you as he rubbed against every gummy ridge and gooey spot inside of you.

“Eddie,” you whimpered, brows pulling together as you looked up at him. He seemed to be going through a similar sense of euphoria, his long lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he breathed into the feeling.

His eyes open, pupils expanding like ink in water as he curled over you, readying the tattoo machine over your chest. He blinked hard, rutting softly against you once… twice… before steadying. The concentration was incredible to witness, his expression hardening and jaw flexing again.

“You ready, dove?” he asked, briefly glancing up at you before staring at the patch of stenciled skin like he could burn a tattoo into it with just his eyes.

“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling like your entire body was made up of TV static as you willed yourself to relax on the chair.

He nodded, the familiar buzz of the tattoo gun starting again. It pressed to your skin like fire, the vibration carrying from the gun all the way down into the flat bone of your sternum. You held your breath without meaning to, toes curling.

Eddie groaned, a smile finding its way onto his face. “You’re squeezing so fucking tight around me,” he said, voice a bit raspier than normal.

You made a conscious effort to relax, staring up at the ceiling and tapping the tips of your fingers along the sides of the chair. “Sorry,” you murmured, a giggle echoing from you as Eddie resumed the line he was tattooing.

Each stab of the needles kept your body alight, teetering you on the edge of pain and pleasure. “You're such a masochist.”

You smiled, your gaze hazy and your pussy fluttering a bit as you took shallow breaths. “I know, it’s gonna be a long night.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #reader insert #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #tattoo artist!eddie

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subwaysurf45 · 2 years ago

Text

She’s Not Mad

Summary: Bucky Barnes was a known people pleaser, it was second nature to him. After meeting you and getting close you both try to navigate his eternal stressed state, working together you try your best to tone down his obsessive ways.

Words: 9k (if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been...)

Warnings: Bucky has mommy issues, mentions of oral sex, nudity, angst, fluff, college!bucky, slow burn

A/N: thanks for the patience!

Masterlist

A Couple of Weeks Ago…

“So, you’re not a thing?” Bucky asked as he shoved his laptop and notebook back into his bag, grabbing the handle of his water bottle and choosing to carry it with him for the walk.

The two boys were higher up in the rows of the lecture hall as they peered over the two girls talking to the professor. Steve had his eyes drilled into Natasha, the girl standing off to the side as her friend went over a question she had.

“She told me she is still figuring out her feelings since her last serious relationship,” Steve sighed as he packed up as well, “and I told her I’d wait- apparently this guy’s parents had given their family engagement ring and everything.”

Bucky pulled the corner of his lips out tight as they began to walk down the stairs, “who’s the other girl?”

“The one that was just asking the question is Y/N,” Steve watched as both girls left the room, “good friends, met last year, live together now.”

“She’s cute,” Bucky said purely, no smirk or innuendo.

********

You sat over your laptop in the library with both hands acting as a brim to cover your eyes from the people around you. Tears rolled down your face as you studied the practice question, you felt pathetic and you tried to sniffle as quietly as possible. If anyone saw you silently bawling you’d drop out, it was stupid enough already when the librarian walked over and dropped a tissue box off without saying a word.

“What do you mean?” you whispered to the page for the hundredth time, hoping for some answer.

You had done the homework, you went to the study groups, you even extended your prof's office hours because you wanted to make sure you were doing everything right. Yet here you were, sitting alone on a Friday night because you still can’t do the practice assignment. Quitting felt like the only option, it wasn’t like everything was going to click; it was too late.

This was just going to become the thing that you could never do, simple as that. Sometimes there are subjects that no matter how hard you try, you don’t have the flair. It was a tough pill to swallow but you’d never be able to do any work if you’d continue to hold yourself to a high standard, it was a win to get the little things right, not the entire question.

The idea of failing was new to you. The jump from high school to college was still something you never adapted to, you always expected nineties on everything and not the mindset that C’s get degrees.

Trying to do the question was like beating a dead horse, you needed a break. You ran your hands over your face and leaned back in your chair, hearing pops from your back as you did so, until you were leaning back and looking up at the ceiling. When you looked straight you saw someone already staring at you.

He had longer brown hair that hit his jawline, blue eyes that jumped out at you, and a very concerned look on his face. He was familiar but you didn’t know what it was from.

“Are you Natasha’s friend?” The guy came up to your empty table.

“Yeah?” You wiped away your tears, extremely confused as he pulled out the chair right beside you to sit at the eight sided table.

“I’m good friends with Steve, I think the two of them have something going on- not important, but I kind of know you and I'd rather not leave someone I kinda know alone crying, so…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” you rolled your eyes and faced your computer again, “the absolute last thing I need is something watching me cry, alright?” your bottom lip wobbled as you kept your eyes away from his at all times.

He was still staring at you, “come on,” he sighed and moved his hand to comfort you but thought otherwise, “I’m not going to laugh at you or run and tell everyone I know I saw a girl crying in the library- y’know what they’d say?” You could see him tilt his head, “they’d say what’s the big deal, haven’t we all?”

You scoffed, “no they wouldn’t.”

“You’re calling me a liar?”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Bucky,” he stuck out his hand, “Bucky Barnes.” You shook his hand, “and since I am a Barnes and was raised by my ma I simply can not let this continue, it’s my obligation to either cheer you up or take you home.”

You scoffed again and tried your best to hide your smile, “and I’m Y/N, and in my family we stress about everything and never give up so I can’t leave until I get this question, so…”

Bucky’s tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he flipped the laptop to face him a little better, “this is the class all four of us have together, alright,” he read over the question and immediately furrowed his brows before looking at you again, trying your best to hold it together. He knew the answer but couldn’t bear to see your reaction, it was painfully obvious you were beating yourself stupid over these questions.

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” he asked like he was talking to a child.

“I barely know you, dude,” you crossed your arms and ripped your laptop back to face you, “and I’ll have you know I don’t need a man to come in here and explain everything to me, alright, I’m going to figure this out on my own and I don’t need you, okay? So just head home, tell Steve I say hi.”

Bucky took a deep breath himself, “that question isn’t marked on the homework, the reason you can’t get the answer is because the way to get it has most likely not been taught yet,” he paused and saw your face crumble, “and I didn’t want to freak you out because you look like you’ve been here a while and you seem to be beating yourself up and I just couldn’t-”

“Stop,” you whispered and covered your face with your hands, “just stop talking.”

And he did.

Trying your best to calm your breaths, it didn’t work. So fucking stupid, unbelievable, there’s no way you just spent close to an hour staring at a problem you didn’t even have to do in the first place.

“Can you walk me home?” you squeeked.

“Of course,” Bucky stood up right away and started helping you pack your bag, “I have some water, do you want it?” He held up his water bottle. You nodded and began drinking as you both made your way outside and towards your off-campus house.

“Did you need to study?” you asked as you screwed on the cap.

Bucky laughed and looked up at the night sky, “I was going for a walk because I heard there was a blood moon tonight, and there is, look,” he point up and saw the red mood looming above both of you, “and I just happened to walk past the library, I looked in the window and recognised your laptop as well as your hair, funny enough,” he laughed as he looked forward again.

“So you just came in to see me?” you needed to make sure you were hearing this right, it’s not like it happens often.

“I was going to introduce myself to you actually,” Bucky shrugged and looked over at you, “I know Steve and Nat are trying to figure things out and I thought friends of two people who might date should know one another. Then I saw you crying so I changed my game plan.”

You just nodded, slightly brushing into Bucky’s arm as you walked. It was hard to stay straight with the exhaustion taking over, every now and then you’d brush your knuckles past Bucky’s. He was a cute guy, and something about him being oh so caution around you made you feel important.

“This is me,” you said later as you walked up the steps, “thanks Bucky, I hope we can be friends.”

Bucky smiled and stood at the bottom of the steps, “if you ever get in your head again like that and need someone to pull you away, let me know- even in the middle of the night, alright?”

“Alright,” you laughed with your hand on the door handle.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I look after the people close to me, I look after friends of friends like siblings,” there was no joking in his tone, it seemed other people doubted him on this promise. “I’ll give you my number,” he hand reached out for your phone.

“I’ll be fine, you seemed to have good luck running into me,” you giggle and open the door to your house. Before it fully closed you felt resistance, looking over your shoulder you saw Bucky holding open your door.

He was smiling, “then give me your number for another reason.”

“Oh?” you turned and placed a hand on your chest, “you’re rather forward.

“Well being cryptic didn’t work, did it?” He laughed and held out his hand again, “come on, I might need a study buddy one day- or even better, a lunch buddy.” you laughed as he tried to duck to meet your eyeline, “you don’t want to be my lunch buddy?”

“I’ll be your lunch buddy,” you giggled and handed him your phone, he wasted no time adding it in. “Goodnight,” you whispered and made it into your house, leaning back and resting against the door. You thought for a moment before breaking into a massive smile, replaying how he tried to keep eye contact with you. Or how he’d been so proud of how his mother raised him- “son of a bitch,” you whispered.

He walked you back home and cheered you up.

Just like he said he would.

A Few Days Later…

Your phone must be hacked or something because your weather app said it would be completely clear today and sunny in the afternoon. As you sat in the cafe you thought it would clear up but it was only getting worse.

All you needed to do was brave the rain and make your way home, but waiting for the perfect time when everything would let up for a moment was pointless.

Walking as fast as you can with your head down, you saw your grey sweatpants become a darker shade instantly. It was a straight downpour with absolutely no sign of letting up, you swore you heard thunder when you waited at the crosswalk. Due to your phone lying to you, you had not brought a hooded article of clothing or umbrella so you just had to deal with everything going wrong.

There definitely was thunder and the lightning was right above you, it seemed like you were the last person on Earth because everyone else was smart enough to stay inside right now; but not you. Down your little street you began to run, trying to get away from the lightning that was chasing you.

If you could guess you’d say most people who had been struck by lightning most likely thought they were too far away, in denial as the sky opened up from above. It was hard to admit you were actually a little scared at that moment, rain getting in your eyes as you sprinted down to your house that was now in view.

With your key at the ready you fell inside, slamming the door behind you.

Natasha rounded the corner, “you idiot, I was trying to call you!” She screamed and saw your state, “Steve and Bucky are over-they drove over they could have picked you up,” Natasha got in your face to peel off the sweater, taking it off right over your head and leaving you in your bralette and those drenched sweatpants.

“You took off my shirt when there’s boys here?” you whispered as you began to shake, covering your chest with crossed arms.

“We guessed you were walking back so we put towels in the dryer,” as if on cue Bucky rounded the same corner with your fluffy towel ready, “thank you Bucky,” Natasha wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Hi, Bucky,” you squeeked, “glad we keep meeting like this.”

Natasha had walked upstairs, most likely getting different pants. Bucky got down on one knee and slipped off your shoes, “like what?” he asked as he looked up, he reminded you of a little puppy somehow. He was as big as a great dane but there was an underlying softness that made you want to hug him or just let him wrap his arm around you.

You huffed as you pulled the towel tighter, “when I’ve just done something embarrassing and you’re there to save the day.”

Bucky stood up with his arms crossed, “only you would think crying or getting caught in the rain is embarrassing,” he shook his head and reached out to rub your shoulder that was covered by the towel, “I like helping and I like making sure people I know are okay, you know this.”

“I do,” you whispered and walked further in your house. Before you could get anywhere near comfortable Natasha whisked you away to change your soggy pants as well as throw on a sweater, they had also been thrown in the drier, everything was very toasty and warm.

Steve was sitting on the couch, staring intensely at the football game going on. Natasha guided you back in and towards the couch. There was enough room for four of you but you knew thighs would be pressed up against one another, you were okay with that if Bucky was sitting beside you. Though you don’t see him often it was nice when you did even though you made it seem like it was embarrassing. Something about having someone who loves taking care of people take care of you so well caused you to crave it a little more.

Bucky came around the couch with a mug, “hot chocolate for you,” he whispered and took the spot beside you, next to the arm rest. You thanked him and let your hand slightly burn on the mug when you held it, liking how the warmth began to spread up your arms. Natasha found her spot on the other side of you while Steve stayed on the edge, leaning forward and never looking away from the game.

“This is really good,” you sipped it and whispered to Bucky, he just smiled and leaned into your side for a moment.

“What were you working on?” he asked after a moment.

“I was at the cafe for a little treat but before I was doing my elective course,” you spoke softly. It seemed like everything happened for a reason because you only got food at the cafe which left room for this hot chocolate now.

“And that is?” Bucky giggled as he leaned forward again.

“Art history,” suddenly, you were coy. Most people thought your elective was a bird course but to you it was actually interesting, it wasn’t often you were met with a positive response.

His eyes got wide, “that’s sick!” Bucky readjusted himself off the couch, “I would have never even thought of that course, wow, that’s really cool. So, like, what do you-”

“Bucky, I love you, brother, I really do but-” Steve sighed, “can you please be quiet, this game is very important.”

“I didn’t think the Big Game was on today?” you asked as you took another sip.

“It’s not that,” Steve places his beer down, “it’s the State Cup Finals, it’s college football.”

Natasha smiled and looked over, “his team’s the underdog and are actually on the road to winning the entire thing!” She giggled and linked an arm with Steve who was happy to cuddle up with her, “it’s actually very exciting once you learn the ins and outs of it.”

You just nodded and faced forward again, seeing Bucky out of the corner of your eyes rubbing his thumb on the neck of his beer bottle, staring off into space. The moment you leaned your head on his shoulder he looked over at you, your heart broke when you saw a sad smile. He was just trying to talk to you, he got excited for you and here he was being scolded.

“Do you want to come look at some of my notes, or are you into this game?” you whispered and saw his eyes light up, both of you quickly stood and headed up stairs with your bag slung over your shoulder.

The moment you walked into your room you felt everything slow down, Bucky slowly walked in and looked around. He was smiling to himself as he l took in your photos on the walls or posters, even your to do list seemingly growing on the white board you have mounted to one wall.

You sat on the corner of your bed as he flipped through your notes, “so you’re, like, breaking down these paintings, it's not just the history of when they were painted?”

“Oh yeah,” you fiddled with the hem of your dry sweater, “most of these artist go insane and we look for that in the work or even just what was happening during the time with stuff that you’d learn in a normal history class but we look at if and when it get put into art,” this was your little thing you could talk about for ages, “very cool stuff.”

Bucky nodded and flipped the pages, “your notes are amazing,” he whispered, “you’re a pretty good student, huh?” he looked over his shoulder and saw you sitting there, just staring at him as he made his way around your room. “What?” he giggled and made his way over to you, holding his hand out to get you to stand up.

“Nothing,” you tucked your chin to your chest, getting coy at the attention. “You’re just…y’know, sweet.”

Bucky just smiled and rubbed your arm, giggling as you both stared at one another for a moment. “Do you want to go back down?”

“Sure,” you nodded and leaned forward, smiling as you both made your way back downstairs.

The rain still worked its way down your windows as the beers and wine kept flowing. The game had ended a while ago but Steve and Bucky didn’t see a reason to leave, it was a good moment that no one wanted to end. You had finished your hot chocolate and moved onto wine, sipping it slowly as everyone talked. It was nice to be brought into this group even though it stemmed from Nat and Steve, there was good chemistry between the four of you.

Talking to everyone was effortless, you didn’t need to act like someone else to fit in. no one was yelling over someone else to get their point across, there weren't any passive aggressive tones in anyone's jokes, it was carefree. It was relaxing to have people this easy to talk to.

The only thing that wasn’t relaxing was the amount of times you caught Bucky staring at you. Everyone had migrated to the floor with their backs against different furniture so you could break out the board games, Bucky was sitting adjacent to you on your right and Steve adjacent on your left, Nat right in front. Every single move whether it be placing a card down or moving your little object around the board Bucky would find a reason to look at you.

“Good one,” he’d pat your shoulder.

“Let me move your piece for you,” he’d say before you could reach across the table.

“Sorry…” he’d smile before taking your little object and moving it back four spots.

He was very attentive, always watching and scanning. But the more you noticed it the more you figured out he was doing it to everyone, including Steve. Something happened whenever Bucky would either move Steve’s piece for him or go get another beer so he wouldn’t have to stand up, Steve would give this look. It seemed as though he was silently telling Bucky he knew something or he was pointing something out that had been a topic of conversation before. Bucky would try to laugh it off but Steve was very protective of Bucky, you just didn’t know why.

The games had slowly come to a close, everyone not drunk but a little more than tipsy. Giggles flowed freely around the table as the conversation resumed again, your eyes were growing heavy as you traced the rim of your glass.

“I’ll be back,” Bucky muttered as he headed to the washroom.

The moment the door closed Steve sighed, “this kid.”

“What?” you were getting protective, why was Steve about to talk shit about his best friend?

Steve just shook his head, “It’s hard to see how badly Winnie fucked him up.”

Your heart plummeted. Any tiredness had left your body faster than the little gasp escaped your lips. Who was this Winnie girl and why did he mess Bucky up? The thoughts circled your head, was he in an abusive relationship? Natasha looked like she didn’t know either, pouring more wine into her cup.

When Bucky came back he sat closer to you and you couldn’t help but reach out and wrapped your arm around his. He must have been a little surprised but you rested your head on his shoulder and continued on like it was nothing.

You were half asleep when Bucky tried to do something for Steve, maybe get him another beer but whatever it was it left Bucky looking like a sad puppy because Steve said, “Buck, relax, I can get my beers, thank you, but I got it, alright?”

Steve's tone was soft but also commanding, he wasn’t annoyed at all. With your eyes closed you pieced it together that Steve was trying to help Bucky in some way, maybe get him to relax a little more. It was out of love but Bucky was very quiet for the rest of the night.

********

You and Bucky had started hanging out a lot more on your own. There were a lot of late night drives or study sessions, Bucky always came to the library to walk you home if you stayed late or had turned your brain into mush during your studying.

What Steve had said stuck with you more than you thought it would, it didn’t impact how you saw Bucky but it made you more aware of his people pleasing tendencies. You wanted to do the same as Steve, tell him it was okay but you weren’t as close. You saw how hurt he was the last time and you just couldn’t do it to him.

Currently you were both sitting on his bed, the movie was wrapping up. Half of his laptop sat on one thigh and the other half sat on Bucky’s, your arms were linked and there was a steady brushing of your thumb on his forearm. In all honesty, you thought you were lulling him to sleep when you looked up five minutes ago to see him fighting his dropping lids.

When the movie faded to black both of you sat there for a moment, content with the sitcom that was coming up next. You looked up again to see him with his face scrunched up, his other hand was on his back.

“What is it?” you asked and leaned over, he was rubbing a specific spot on his lower back with his thumb.

Bucky held his breath as he leaned forward to move his hand, “I was working out this morning and there weren't any belts left for my deadlifts and I did something to my back.”

“Do you want a massage?” you offered, he’d do the same for you.

“I’m okay, thanks,” he looked down at your head resting on his bicep.

“I didn’t know you worked out,” you smiled, “you don’t have the, like, bodybuilder physique.”

Bucky laughed and wiped at his eyes, giggling to himself before answering. “I don’t want that look, but…” you could see the boast on the top of his tongue, he poked his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

“Tell me!” you sat up, taking the laptop off your lap so you could fully face him now, “are you, like, ripped or something?” you both laughed as he hugged himself so you couldn’t feel or see anything, “you are, shut up!” you placed both hands on his shoulders, his face so red from laughing and embarrassment you just wanted to take a bite out of it.

“Steve calls it a sleeper build,” Bucky managed to wheeze out, he was trying to play-fight you off of him.

“What the fuck is that?!” you gasped as your hands reached out but he copied you and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“It’s when someone has muscle but you can’t really see it in normal clothing,” his face was calming down as well, but that stupid smile was still on his face. “It just kinda happened, just how I am.”

You tried to move his arms around but you couldn’t, his fingers were still tightly woven with yours. You just laughed and fell back into him, cuddling up again. “I had a friend's mom who was an actual masseuse, so…” you shrugged, “I actually know what I’m doing because she’d give me massages and walk me through her process.”

“You just want to take my shirt off, don’t you?” Bucky taunted.

“I want to make sure you’re not uncomfortable the entire time we hang out and for the rest of the week,” you giggled before snuggling into his arm again and watching the show that had come on randomly.

It took three days before Bucky came back for that massage.

You were hanging out again like normal and he was still trying to relieve the ache in his lower back. It was becoming sad to see him so uncomfortable so you kept reminding him of your excellent massage skills. After what you counted as his third groan of pain you just looked at him and soon enough he was asking you to turn around so he could take his shirt off and lie down.

Choosing your angle to stand with your back to him was a science, you wanted to make sure you had the mirror to look at but you also didn’t want to make it obvious. Part of you hated yourself for wanting to catch and peek at his body but it was infamous now, you just had to look.

And my god was it worth it.

It wasn't an obnoxious amount of muscle that made it seem like the strength drained from his brain and into his arms. The sleeper build comment was right, you had no idea. His chest made you feel comfortable and protected, the kind of chest you’d want to fall into when the subway starts up too quick and you’re not holding onto anything. His arms were, and you already knew this, amazing at covering so much surface area for hugs. They were secure and trustworthy, you knew that when you hugged him he had you; it also helped to remember when he’d whisper it in your ear.

“Okay,” his voice was muffled by pillows at the top of your bed.

You turned around and were greeted by his back which was also an amazing sight, the kind of body sculptors would use and their go-to subject if no one else was there. “I have some lotion on my hands,” you warned and pressed your palms onto his back and quickly began spreading the lotion around.

Though this wasn’t a proper table and he was resting on one cheek instead of face down you knew this was the best he’d get for a college kid. You started all over and slowly worked your way to focusing on his lower back. When you felt the knot you knew you found it, the thing was massive. The low groan Bucky let out was close to pornographic as you dug into him.

Something about seeing him grip the sheets, making his veins pop out, did something to you. At first you only really saw Bucky as another friend or a good member of the friend group you stumbled your way into. But the more you spent one-on-one the more you realized he was your perfect guy. Any guy can be perfect physically but his personality enhanced your view for him, it made you appreciate his looks even more.

His laugh always brought out the crinkle in his nose and those pretty teeth, the sound of him giggling was music to your ears and also was the perfect accompaniment to his squinted eyes or broad smile. The same with his little fist pumps he does when beating you at a game either around a group of friends of a video game, that stupid celebration he does every time causes him to flex his bicep but that’s secondary to the little circles he makes with his fist.

You kept working away and looking at his rested face once in a while, seeing his eyes closed and the relieved look on his face. There was something so pure about watching the guy your slowly obsession over fall into simple relaxation all because of you, it was a treat.

“How’s that?” you whisper, “Bucky?” trying to make sure your pressure wasn’t too hard for him you wanted to check in, but he had fallen asleep. With the opportunity in front of you, you reached out and placed your bent knuckles along his cheek, feeling the stubble tickle your fingers.

You found him blanket on his bed and covered him up so he wouldn’t get cold with his shirt off, before leaving you placed a kiss on his forehead before heading downstairs for a snack. You also wanted to give him space, let him sleep peacefully.

Steve was down there when you got there, another roommate of his cooking as you found Bucky’s section of snacks to choose from.

“Where’s Bucky?” Steve asked as he looked over his shoulder, not for long due to the football playing on the TV.

“Sleeping upstairs,” you ate the goldfish as you rounded the couch to watch the game.

He seemed taken aback at your casualness, “what did you guys do…?” he slowly looked over, most likely trying to see if your hair was disheveled or anything was blossoming on your neck.

“I gave him a massage,” you shrugged and fell back onto the couch, “his lower back has been killing from his workout a while ago.”

You could see Steve look over his shoulder to see if his roommate was also hearing this, he looked over at you again and squinted. “So- and correct me if I’m wrong here- you gave Bucky a massage and put him to sleep and now you’re down here getting a snack?”

“You would be correct,” you smiled, “would you like to do a once over of my neck for hickies or maybe rummage through the trash for condoms?” you sassed and plopped a few more goldfish in your mouth, “I was helping him.”

That statement made Steve look over his shoulder again. The roommate just shrugged with a smile before heading down to his room in the basement, noodles steaming from the cup. You just looked at Steve as he tried to piece together everything, it was actually funny to see him try to understand.

“Bucky doesn’t accept help from anyone,” Steve turned to face you, “it’s his thing to never want to be in debt with anyone when it comes to favours of any sort.”

“Well,” you just sighed, “I’ve been picking up on that too but I got to him I guess, he let me do something for him.” That was all you could say because you didn’t have a full background of why Bucky didn’t accept help from anyone you just knew he didn’t; the only clues you had were Winnie and her role in this.

“That’s good,” Steve quickly added, “I’m far from saying it’s bad, trust me, it’s just he’s been in a funk for a while when it comes to that stuff, it ebbs and flows.”

“Do you think he’ll ever tell me?” you asked as you watched the game, too embarrassed of the question to look at Steve. It seemed there was this vital piece of information that made Bucky who he was that was dangling right in front of your face, you were falling for him but that thing that made him him was out of reach. When Steve first made the statement he siad that this Winnie girl fucked him up which implied something bad much have happened and that can also mean something isn’t necessarily right. You were never going to fix Bucky but you did want to understand so you could help be a better friend to him and not unconsciously get in the way of his mindset.

Steve nodded, “he’ll definitely tell you,” he looked over and smiled, “I mean, you’re all he ever talks about, this kid is head over heels for you it’s just…some guys have hard times coming to terms with their past, he’ll get there though.”

“I know,” you nodded, “I’ll obviously never force it out but I do want him to be aware I’m here to listen, y’know?”

“He knows,” Steve laughed and stood up, going to the cupboard and grabbing a little snack for himself as well.

You took a deep breath before standing up and heading back upstairs, you were guessing Bucky was still fast asleep. When you opened the door you found him still laying on his bed in the exact same position, only now there was little snores coming from him.

With a pout you crawled back onto the bed and sat next to him, placing your hand on his back and sliding it down to his arm that was bent up so his hands could rest under the pillow. Your thumb gently rubbed his arm for a moment before pulling out your phone and scrolling through it.

The boredom ate away at you, instead of scrolling through your phone you went to his dresser to find some clothes you could change into so you could crawl under his sheets and sleep over. When you pulled open his top drawer you were met with his underwear and socks as well as a box of condoms tucked to the side, you just giggled to yourself at the painfully college male sight in front of you.

Something about wearing his boxers made your face heat up, that was a level of intimacy you wanted to reach with him one day but you didn’t know if it was time. Looking over your shoulder after a particularly loud snore you smiled to yourself and picked up a black pair, as you held it up you remember seeing the waistband sticking out of his jeans while he reached above his head to grab something for someone - you weren’t focused on his actions at the time.

Quickly slipping your pants off and pulling up the boxers you maneuvered to his closet, finding your favourite hoodie he wore very often. This moment of intimacy, moving around Bucky’s room while he wasn’t aware, caused a surge of confidence to shoot through you. Though you had never talked to Bucky about what the relationship between you was, you knew both of you could agree there was no room for girlfriends or boyfriends for either of you, this was the time to build the foundation for something better later. Having this idea of only being the girl in his room you took off your bralette and tucked it back in his top drawer, across from the condoms.

You didn’t choose this bra specifically but you were wearing a slightly lacey bralette, it was far from lingerie but the lace added something to it. Making sure you put it where it wouldn’t be obvious but also not hiding it, you grew giddy at the image of Bucky finding it.

Before getting in his bed you tugged and tugged the sheets under his body before managing to get the covers fully out from under him. You scooted in and pulled the sheets up to cover both of you, it seemed he really needed the sleep because nothing was waking him up, not even the little hug you gave him before turning off the lights and falling asleep beside him.

********

You were sitting in class aimlessly scrolling through your phone during your five minute break in your lesson, your art history professor was one of the best teachers you've ever had. She was funny but also well informed, she also had a big heart and didn’t need a eulogy as a form of proof if someone asked for an extension due to a funeral service that day.

Bucky: What the hell is in my dresser?

Without knowing the tone or context your heart dropped. You read the text with Bucky’s voice as if he was screaming at you, a hint of embarrassment in his tone. It was in your head, you didn’t know if it was a flirty tone either.

You: Just my bra, when I stayed over a couple of nights ago I changed into your clothes and just absentmindedly put my bra in your top drawer. I probably was just going through the motions and thought I was at my place.

Bucky: Can I pick you up from class, when does your lecture end?

Something about him completely disregarding your explanation - lie or not - gave you the worst feeling in the world. Ice poured down your back as you watched your prof make her way back up to the little stage she teaches on, you couldn’t keep the conversation going and just needed to deal with it later.

You: sure, it ends in an hour.

Bucky: I’ll be there.

Part of you didn’t want to leave when your lecture was over, you stayed in the hallway for a moment and thought of every single end of the world situation that could happen in the car. Bucky didn’t seem like a guy who hit women but your anxiety didn’t let you leave out that thought. He also didn’t seem like the guy who’d reveal he’d been dating another girl the entire time but who knows, he could be in a three year long relationship as you stood there.

With all these terrible situations playing out in your head you decided to face it head on, you’d walk in there and wouldn’t let him talk; just saying your apologies with your eyes closed before he could get a word out.

You walked down the steps and to the right to find Bucky’s car parked in front, coming up in the blindspot. You took a moment to take a deep breath, opening the door and sitting down as quickly as possible.

“Do you-”

“Bucky,” you put your hand out but kept your eyes casted down, “I am so unbelievably sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I don’t know if you already have a girlfriend and she found it and it caused a rift in your relationship, or if you like to sleep with other girls and one of them found the bra and got jealous so you lost your credit. I don’t know what made you angry but please, I am so sorry for what I did, I wasn’t thinking and I just put it in there and I-...” you just held your mouth open as you looked at the center console, you had run out of things to say. “Um,” you slowly looked up to see him frozen in shock, mouth still slightly open from when he began to say something, “sorry, you were about to say something?”

Bucky had to physically rattle his head to get out of the shock he was in, “do you want to get some coffee?”

Your eyes flicked up and it was your turn to stay frozen, “what?”

Bucky pulled his brows together, “I was making a joke about the bra thing,” he seemed concerned at your extremely anxious state, “I don’t care what you leave at my place, I really don’t,” normally someone would laugh in awkward situations but Bucky didn’t, it felt like it made everything worse. “Do you want coffee?”

“What is going on?” you couldn’t believe the situation you had put yourself in, nothing was making sense.

“Don’t get all mad at me,” now it was time for him to scoff, “you’re the one that thought I was sleeping with multiple women while I’m actively pursuing you, you idiot.”

“Don’t call me an idiot,” you huffed and faced the front of the car, crossing your arms after putting on your seatbelt.

Bucky laughed as he reached over and turned your face so you’d look at him, “that’s what you took from that statement?” He giggled, “babe, I just said I was pursuing you, does that just fly over your head?”

“Wait, what?” you grew more interested, “you want to date me?”

Bucky nodded, “have I not made it obvious?” You just shrugged and began to feel small, curling yourself further into the seat of his car, “I would like to take you out and I would like to continue to collect little pieces of you at my place while doing the same to yours, does that make sense?”

“Then what were those condoms for?”

“The same reason our house keeps tampons in our main bathroom,” Bucky put the car in drive and began working towards to coffee shop, “if you ever need a tampon you go and grab one, if Steve ever needs a condom and he’s out of stock in his room he comes to me,” Bucky looked at you at the stop light.

“Oh,” was all you could say.

“But let me get a few things straight,” Bucky placed his hand on your thigh, “I’m not sleeping with other girls, I do not have a secret girlfriend, I am not mad you left your bra in my dresser and I tried to make the text seem flirty, and finally,” he went at the green, “I really like you and I would like you to be my girl whenever we get there.”

“Okay,” you whispered, “I’d like that too.”

“Then it’s settled,” it was a short drive to the cafe, “let’s celebrate over coffee, shall we?”

You looked down at his hand on your thigh, “yeah, we shall.”

********

Your body felt like it was floating, your legs tingled and it was hard to catch your breath. As you laid on your back with your hands on your bare stomach Bucky worked his way back up from between your legs while leaving kisses on your hip bones as well as your stomach when you lifted your hands.

“How was that?” Bucky asked breathlessly, licking his lips before kissing you.

You kept your answer waiting, probably because he knew it already, kissing him slowly as he wanted. He was fully in control right now, setting the pace and tone of this entire afternoon. When he pulled away for a moment you complimented him like always, your hands reached up to his shoulders and tried to push him to lay on his back but he stayed strong.

“Flip over,” you whispered and ran your hands down his chiseled stomach, working your way up to his shoulders as your fingernails raked up his back.

“I’m all good,” he shrugged.

“But you’re painfully hard,” you tried again to get him to move but he just fell beside you on his stomach, not allowing you to touch him where he was in fact, extremely hard. “Come on, you always do this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled and pulled you down with him.

“I just want to do something nice for you, you never let me do anything for you or give you any favours,” in your head it seemed like a normal observation, it was true that Bucky didn’t let anyone do anything for him while he actively tried to help everyone in anyway he knew how.

That seemingly struck a nerve, “alright then,” he sighed and got up from the bed, heading into the bathroom as he left you naked and alone on his bed, the most lonesome feelings in the world.

“Where are you going?” you sat up, grabbing your shirt from the edge of the bed.

“Going to go jerk off in the shower,” he said as he closed the door.

“You can’t be serious,” you quickly stood and made your way to the bathroom that was connected to his room. You opened the door to see him already adjusting the tap before starting the shower. “Bucky, it’s the truth, it’s who you are but it’s the truth and as your girlfriend I want you to feel good, I want to give you pleasure like you do to me.”

You reached forward and placed your hands on his back, slowly working your way to his shoulders so you could turn him around. There looked like shame had overtaken him as he stood before you, though he was larger in size he shrunk himself down to look small. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, he didn’t know what to say.

“If I can’t give you head then can I come in the shower and wash your hair?” you didn’t even put on the shirt you grabbed, it was dropped to the floor. “Come on, honey, it’ll feel so good.”

Bucky only nodded before stepping into the hot shower with you. You made sure he got most of the stream on him, you stayed in front and made sure his hair was soaked before getting any product. You could see his tenseness at first but the moment your hands made contact with his scalp his eyes rolled back, his shoulders relaxed. In that moment it occurred to you that you had actually never seen his relaxed state before.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” you whispered, making sure you used your nails to really cleanse his scalp. “Doesn’t letting yourself relax and breathe feel so good, Buck?”

“Yeah,” it came out quiet and broken.

Your eyes were focused on his hair the entire time, making sure you lathered up and took your time. You needed to savor this moment for both you and Bucky, you wanted him to be relaxed for a s long as possible as well as taking advantage of doing him a favour; never knowing when your next opportunity would come up.

Gently tapped his forehead, you got him to lean back. The water immediately took off the top layer of suds but you needed to rub out the deeper layers as well. Your fingers scrubbed until the trail of water rolling down his body was pure water and had no shampoo in it.

“I’m going to- oh, my gosh Bucky,” you reached out and saw his red eyes, “when did you start crying?”

“I can’t remember,” he whispered and tilted his head down, the water pushed his hair to cover his eyes.

You pushed his hair back and pulled him out a step further so the water hit his back, your thumbs quickly wiped away a mixture of water and tears off of his face. He couldn’t stop crying as you tried your best to keep his face clear, “honey, what’s wrong?”

“I-” he choked on his own words, “I’ve never let my guard down this much,” he admitted before breaking off into harder sobs, you swooped in and pulled him tightly against your chest.

“I know it’s a new feeling,” you whispered, “but I want you to be able to do this all the time, let your guard down around me,” it was a shot in the dark by saying this but you did it anyways, “I promise I won’t hurt you, I’ll never take advantage of your guard down, love.”

It must have struck something because his knees buckled, his hands gripped tighter as he desperately kept you close to him. You didn’t know if you were making him feel better or worse but the act of letting go was needed for him, you kept holding him until there was nothing left to cry.

When he pulled away he stayed close, close enough that you kissed him under the gentle rain of the shower and played with his hair at the base of his scalp. His hands stayed on your back and held you close to him, making sure you were always touching him in some way. You tried to get a good read on him but he kept his head low and gently ran his hands up and down your sides, just feeling you.

“You’re very safe,” you whispered.

Bucky looked up at you for a moment before keeping his eyes down for a while, his brows pulled together and it seemed like he was trying to say something but didn’t know how. Both of you were open and vulnerable, naked in the hot shower. Tears threatened to spill over at the picture of Bucky crying in front of you.

“It was my mom,” Bucky whispered, “the one who broke me-”

“You’re not broken,” you quickly corrected, cupping his face and stroking his cheek with your thumb, “don’t say that.”

Bucky just shrugged, “I’m the oldest, I have four sisters younger than me - all different dads.” Bucky took a deep breath and pulled you closer, “my mom…Winnie was an interesting woman who never wanted to be pregnant but somehow always ended up pregnant anyways, it also didn’t help none of the guys wanted to stick around.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him the easy opportunity to hug you if he needed to. Nodding along, you encouraged him to keep going.

“When my mom realized I could do the dirty work she would take advantage of that. I basically raised my sisters and somehow she managed to worm into my head,” he let out an angry laugh, “she’d say she loved me if I did things for her and I was a bad boy if I couldn’t or wouldn’t help her, she would say I didn’t love her if I didn’t change my sister’s diapers or bathe them while she sat on the couch.”

“Bucky,” you were the one to instigate the hug, “that’s awful.”

“And I’m aware of how I act now, all I’ve ever known is helping other people to make sure they love me,” he laughed again, “and it sounds stupid but I can never break out of the cycle, I always think I’m doing a good job or not being overbearing but then I start to second guess myself, you know?” he pulled away and looked at you, you quickly nodded. “I start to think about what people are saying behind my back and so I keep doing what I’m doing to stay on the safe side, I know it’s fucking annoying but I can’t help it.”

“It’s not annoying, baby” you leaned past him and turned off the water as it grew cold, “and if you’ll let me I can help with that, I don’t want to fix you or change you, I just want you to be comfortable in this relationship and not think I’m secretly mad at you because you didn’t get me a glass of water.”

Bucky nodded, stepped out of the shower with you and grabbed two towels. The conversation had naturally ended, Bucky didn’t have anything else to say. It was hard not to think he was overthinking again, the idea that you were causing him to stress out stressed you out. You were being truthful when you said you wanted him to be relaxed in this relationship, the last thing you wanted was underlying tension.

Back in bed Bucky rolled over and cuddled into your breasts, holding you closely as you watched his head rise with your breath. You had no idea if he was asleep or not, you knew he wouldn’t mind either way if you played with his hair.

“Thank you,” was all he whispered before falling asleep.

********

You all sat around the couch to watch another big game. Though you had no idea what was going on you were just as into it as Steve. Half time had just started and you all took a collective breath, the two college teams were close.

“Want another beer?” you asked as you stood up, looking at Bucky who was sitting on the couch. Steve and Nat had already filled up, you wanted another cooler and Bucky was almost done.

“Yeah,” he quickly downed his final sip of beer before handing the bottle off to you.

There was this anticipation in the room, you smiled and took the bottle and walked past Steve who was already looking at Bucky. The room seemed still when Bucky didn’t move, just pulling out his phone to look at something while the commercials played. Before making it into the kitchen you looked over your shoulder and saw the back of Bucky’s head, you bit your lip to suppress the smile that was growing.

The moment you got back and sat next to him Bucky took your hand and pulled it into his lap. He fidgeted with your finger before looking over at you, “how’d I do?” he whispered.

You laughed and leaned into his side, “how much did that make your cringe?”

“I was in pain for a moment,” he answered as fast as possible before giggling with you as you clink your glasses together and take a long swing. With a deep breath he looked back at the game and kept your hand in his. Bucky must have not been paying attention but his phone buzzed, illuminating and accidentally showing his lockscreen.

It changed from the photo of the two of you to a black background with white writing on it:

Trust me, she’s not mad at you.

********

Thanks for reading, feel free to reblog and tell me what you think!

Taglist: @jackiehollanderr @tylard-blog1 @readingbooksanddrinkingtea-blog @linzc-reader @hotleaf-juice @honeybunchesofbucky @seybox @yaszx @happyt0exist @striving4averagegirl @searchf0rtheskyline @aya-fay @wbyss @luvrsbian @albertdabuttler

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wintfleur · 10 months ago

Note

Hiii! Could you do 🪷 “placing kisses on your lovers shoulder and nape as they are bent down, trying to focus on their work though they're very hot and bothered” for will smith

౨ৎ irresistible

﹕─┈ pairings ( Will smith x female! reader )

°. — summary ( will’s supposed to be studying, but he can’t focus on anything but you . . . it’s not his fault his girl is so irresistible )

°. — details ( g; fluff, slightly suggestive. w; suggestive actions, but no smut, heated makeout. wc; 1.2k)

﹕─┈ prompt ~ placing kisses on your lovers shoulder and nape as they are bent down, trying to focus on their work though they're very hot and bothered

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( ahhh will !!! Tysm for sending in a request, so sorry it took so long for me to get out, I absolutely loved writing this !!! I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you guys think )

+ could be read as a part 2 to this or just as a standalone.

1k celly masterlist main masterlist nhl masterlist

Saturday mornings were for cuddling, sweet nothings whispered into each other's ears, messy hair and slow kisses, and of course making pancakes that left your kitchen a mess in its wake. Well for will they were, and don't get me wrong you loved those types of Saturdays.

But for you as of late, your Saturdays were waking up early, kissing your still sleeping boyfriend's forehead, throwing on some sweats and a hoodie, strong coffee, and studying for hours in the quiet library knowing that you wouldn't be bothered. But this Saturday was different, instead of going to the library alone, your sweet boyfriend decided to join you.

He swore that he would help you study since he felt bad for distracting you the other day during class, he knows how important your academics are to you. He promised to be on his best behavior . . . and he really really tried too. But he couldn't help but have his mind wander as he watched study.

Between the cute pout on your lips as you focused, the way you absentmindedly bit on the top of your pen as you read the large textbook in front of you, and the way he got a perfect view of your cleavage as you leaned forward to write, made him impatient, restless. His mind clouded with thoughts he shouldn't be having in a library. But what can he say, you were just so irresistible.

“Will” you whisper his name in a warning tone when you felt his hand slip under your shirt, your eyes not leaving your notebook that was filled with your notes, pastel highlighter covered words and little doodles on the sides of the pages. Will did not pause his wandering hand, softly caressing your lower back, his gaze on your side profile.

“C’mon no one is around” he whispered as he moved closer to you, tilting his body to the side as he sat next to you, your knees brushing up against each other. The soft lingering touch making his want for you, stronger. Will's eyes quickly dart around the dimly lit corner of the library they sat at, no one in sight. They were in their own little world.

You look up from your books and to will when you hear the desperateness in his tone, ever since you woke him up this morning, soft kisses on the side of his face as you gently ran your fingers through his messy hair, he's been clingy, only wanting your touch and attention. Two things he wasn't getting as you studied hard, his own books and homework long forgotten.

You could see the desire in his eyes, a look you knew well. Will’s fingers dipped into the waistband of your panties, teasingly tracing the skin under it, sending goosebumps in its wake.

You swallow hard and ignore the feeling of desire stirring in your stomach, you had to focus, you weren't going to let your needy boyfriend distract you again. You clear your throat and look away from a now smirking will (he could read you so well) And turn your focus back on your textbook “I only have a few chapters left.”

Will pouts and stops his hand from going lower when you turn your attention back to your studies. He pulls his hand away from your lower back and rests his arm on the back of your chair as he watches you move your hair to your other shoulder, giving him a perfect view of your neck and nape. Your movement gives him a good whiff of your perfume he loved so much.

Will quickly looks around and smiles triumphantly when he sees that they are still alone and out of sight. He leans forward in his seat and closer to you, his arm on the back of your chair dropping down to wrap around you as he leans down, his chest pressed against your side.

You try to focus on the words in front of you, but you couldn't focus on anything but the way your boyfriend was pressed up against you, his body warmth spreading over you. Will's lips twitch up into a smirk when he sees you falter, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder, leaving a trail of wet kisses across your shoulder and up to your nape. Your eyes flutter close as the feeling of his soft lips on your warm skin, a small gasp leaving your parted lips.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips and your eyes quickly open when you feel his hot mouth part, his tongue teasingly swiping against your burning skin. Will leans back in his chair, a chuckle leaving his lips as you quickly stand up and move away his touch, a familiar warmth and desire spreading across your body. Wills eyes darken as he watches your eyes drop to his legs where he was manspreading, softly biting your lip at the sight before quickly looking up to his eyes, stuttering out “I’m going to go get another book.”

You didn't wait for a response before you were turning on your heels and making your way towards the history section of the library, thankfully it was close to where the two of you were sitting. You let out a heavy breath and bring your hand to your nape, softly rubbing the hot skin as your eyes dart over the books on the long shelfs.

You knew what he was doing, and he was doing it well, so you had to get out of there before it was too late and you fell to his charms and touch . . . you were so close to just letting him take you back to your dorm. You stop at the right section and your eyes rake over the long shelf, looking for the right book that you need.

You only notice your boyfriend who followed you when you felt his hands on your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. You tilt your head to the side to give him more room, will hums in appreciation and places a kiss to your pulse point, your breath hitching at the bruising kiss.

“Will,” you whispered breathlessly.

A needy groan leaves his lips as he hears you say his name so prettily, and he doesn't wait another second before he is pulling back and quickly turning you around, softly pushing you back against the bookshelf, a gasp of surprise leaving your lips at the sudden change of position. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he looked down at you, the desire in your eyes matching his.

He can't wait anymore, the way you looked up at him, the desire in your eyes, the way your chest raised in fall as you breathe heavy, your pretty lips parted, you looked irresistible. Will quickly surged forward, and your noses softly knocked against each other as he took your lips in a passionate kiss.

You slid your hand up his side and up his back before tangling it into his hair at his nape, the kiss only heating up as he pressed his body flush against you, your touch sending chills down his spine. A whine leaves your lips as he moves his knee between your thighs, will eagerly slips his tongue into your mouth, his hands traveling your body as if he didn't have every inch of your body memorized.

The kiss only gets hotter as gasps and moans leave both of your lips, you found yourself absentmindedly bucking against his knee. You reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, needing air and not wanting to be caught in a heated makeout with your boyfriend. Pants leaving your lips as you whispered needily.

“My dorm or yours?”

°. — taglist ( @cixrosie @toasttt11 @lovings4turn x )

#﹕─┈ 𝜗 roro's 1k celly 𝜚 #୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ. 𝓵atest release of 𝓻oro’s 𝔀orks #will smith hockey #will smith hockey x reader #will smith hockey imagine #will smith blurb #will smith x reader #will smith #nhl blurb #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #boston college #bc eagles #hockey player x reader #hockey smut #nhl smut

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justatypicalwizard · 2 months ago

Text

Silk dance | Jayce

Aracne Jayce x Zaun seamstress reader

Jayce and reader have history before the Arcane plot. This story follows the second season of Arcane but loosely.

A complimentary piece to my previous story Up and Under. I was asked whether I would make a part two to it. I will rather not but I got the idea that there may be a little bit more to unpack amidst the pages of the story.

,,So, how’s it going with the girl?” Rhythmic buzzing of energy filled the air in the laboratory with a lulling symphony played by tiny machines. In the near silence Jayce Talis scribbling in his notebook posed as the only off-key element as he switched between the messy pages and a cogwheel on his workstation. Sky’s voice ruptured the melody of focus.

Jayce looked up, his eyes wide and lips slightly agape, as if the woman in the room spoke another language, one he didn’t quite understand. Sky was not looking at him, rather wiping off an oily stain from the counter. Her movement was steady, up and down, up and down, like she calculated every step she took in life.

,,I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Of course Jayce knew what she meant. At times when he was alone the man beat himself over the fact that you were near him so often. He was aware how some might view this vicinity. On the other hand, he’s a grown man, he may do as he wishes and it’s only the shortsightedness of others that makes them full of prejudice. It’s not like every high-ranked man has to have an affair with a Zaunite woman working for him.

“She’s here often.” Up and down, up and down. The counter was already clean.

“You’re here often too.”

“I work here.”

“She’s also working.”

“How so?”

“I hired her. She’s a seamstress and a designer.”

“How many fittings does one need?”

“She’s somewhat of a visioner too, like me. You should never rush your work, Sky.”

“And because of that there is a need for nearly daily meetings?”

“Sky, are you suggesting something?” Jayce turned his full body towards the woman. She finally left the counter alone, dropping the cleaning cloth on its polished surface.

“I’m sorry sir, it was very inappropriate of me.” Her shoulders slouched and she was avoiding his gaze like fire. “I’m just worried. it’s either people whispering and spreading gossip or you going to the undercity. It’s dangerous.”

“If inventors cared about whispering and gossip, there would be no progress in the world.” Jayce turned back to the cogwheel, picking it up and spinning it around in his fingers, trying to convince himself that the whole conversation was about progress and not -

Sky whispered something in the lines of that’s not what I meant but both of them decided to let the topic evaporate. A moment of silence spread between them, pushing the two even further away. If Jayce wouldn’t be so hard in his head he might have felt Sky’s gaze on his back, her pleading, longing look. Yet, he didn’t, because that’s simply who Jayce Talis was - a master in avoiding what he didn’t want to face.

“I’ll take my leave.” Sky’s voice once again rifled through the steady silence that rose to discomfort. The energy buzzing in the air felt like tension. Jayce just wanted this to end, to get back into a good mood before -

“Is anyone here?” A new, third voice entered tonight's opera.

Bad timing sweetheart. Jayce thought to himself and froze upon realising how caringly he just called you in his head. Due to that he missed the bite that Sky put on her own, tightly knit, lips.

The man turned around finally, taking in the whole of the scene. It was a true comedy-drama. Sky’s face was a mixture of disbelief and irritation while your eyes were filled with sparkles, clutching the sewing supplies and admiring the scenery around you. Jayce was right when he said you two were somehow similar, the same buzzing inside your veins when you had an idea, the same eagerness and urgency to put your hands to work. The same, slightly, crazed look when focused and the same hope for a better future.

Despite how heartless it was for anyone who could look upon the situation from outside, at that moment Jayce simply couldn’t look away from your smiling face. And he smiled back. Sky was already gone, only a quiet creak of the doors reminding she was there in the first place.

,,Should I - um.'’ you weren't sure what to say, it felt like your presence interrupted. Jayce was quick to ease the misunderstanding.

,,It's nothing. Be my guest.” He gestured for a seat next to one of the spacious counters. Grabbing a cloth scattered near his cog he whipped his hands and started undoing the buttons keeping his shirtcuffs tight.

With a smile and a shrug you began to unpack your supplies. A yellow measuring tape, pins, very sharp scissors and a variation of fabrics Jayce allowed you to buy samples of. There weren't many restrictions when it came to quality nor price. You rarely had a chance to get ahold of so many exquisite materials.

,,So.” He started eying the roll of samples you placed along the counter.

,,So?’’’ You mimicked like a little parrot.

,,Which one do you recommend?” Jayce picked up the scraps, examining the small squares as if he knew what made one another different.

,,Oh, it depends on what you're looking for.” He was just about to ask you for details but your knowing smile kept him silent. With panience unlike him, the man listened as you opened up the world of textile for him. ,,From the ones I selected silk will present itself as the most luxurious. It's soft, shiny under light, liquid like in nature but also cold.” Jayce watched you thumb the material, handing it over to him. On the peripheries the square was indeed colder but in the centre, where you held it, the silk remembered your touch. He thought that you must be warm yourself. ,,Linen is less sparkly, more manly one could say, but it has a certain unruly feel to it if you ask me. It reminds me of nature.” Manly. Jayce liked how the word danced on your lips. ,,And of course cotton is a safe option, comfortable, trustworthy and good-looking. There are also different colours in the pallette -”

Your lips were producing a number of words, some about the tones that these different variants of white may bring forward from his skin, something about how he should consider the shirt in reference to other parts of the tuxedo, and some other things. It was a long day for Jayce, he felt the tiredness and stress weigh his shoulders down when he shimmied out of his current jacket and shirt, sitting on the stool in only his undershirt. It was hard for him to focus when it was so late in the evening, the stars popping in the night sky, his mind slowly shutting down from the all-day-long struggle, your hands roaming his forearms. If he wasn't a gentleman he would close his eyes and ask you for a massage. He laughed to himself absentmindedly.

,,What's so funny?” You asked, putting hands on your hips. ,,Don't tell me you're one of the people who say they don't see different shades.”

,,Oh no, no. I definitely see a lot of colours.” Like the red of your lips and the tint of your cheeks and the tone of your hair that I thought about last night.

It was improper of him, he only proved Sky's stereotypes further. Yet, was it criminal to feel a little something for a person that smiles at you so gracefully, someone that shares your ideas at heart, another being that makes you feel comfortable. It won't hurt anyone if Jayce daydreams a bit about anything different than hextech.

,,-chandeliers.” Your voice rang in his ears, reminding him that the object of his tricky attraction was standing in front of him.

,,Once more.” With a smile he erased your slight irritation.

,,You asked me which one I recommend. While I like cotton for its usefulness I believe a ball requires something more… sophisticated. Silk will look fantastic in the lights of the chandeliers.” You repeated, giving him the evils.

,,Silk it is then. Do you think it will suit me on the dancefloor?” Jayce stood up abruptly. ,,You said you're good at imagining designs, at mapping them in your head. Then come and tell me will it suit me on the dancefloor?” He raised his hands as if to waltz. Just a little bit of flirt won't kill anyone.

With a laugh you walked around him trying to portray the seams and shapes of the soon-to-be shirt.

“I can definitely see you in something enhancing the back, something simple, with details to be left shocking.”

,,Details such as…”

,,Such as an interesting collar and buttoning at the front. Something here.” You said and pointed at his chest.

,,Mhm''. He murmured, grasping your hands, tugging you delicately where he wanted you, as if you were dancing.

,,I ope you own any accessories because an outfit without them is as good as going out naked.”

,,Naked you say.”

You stopped your slow swirling and looked at each other. In that moment Jayce Talis wished that the ball never began, that he was stuck in this moment of preparation, that he had an excuse to ask you over, that he never had to think about all the things that put your worlds apart and made this impossible. In the morning he will look Sky in the eye and feel a ting of shame, he will walk past other residents of Piltover and turn a deaf ear to their whispering, he will push himself to the limit with his work. All of this will be his payment for the moment of weakness, for allowing himself to hold you in his arms and whisper into your ear sweet little nothings.

#jayce talis x reader #jayce x reader #jayce x #jayce x you #jayce talis x you #jayce talis x y/n #jayce talis #arcane jayce #arcane

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guiltyasreid · 7 months ago

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you threaten to sue spencer reid. l spencer reid x reader

warnings/tags: non, fluff, suggestive ending? gn!reader, college!spencer reid, and they were roommates word count : 957 a/n: this is the first time I'm posting one of my fics so ahhhhhhh, I got this idea from where a fan shouted at min yoongi "I will sue you" plus I'm trying to procrastinate applying for my masters in law. lmk what you think

It was a typical Tuesday night, you laid on the floor, stomach down, left hand scrawling your notes into your notebook, three textbooks open at different pages. The only sound heard in the room was your breathing, his breathing and both of you writing notes. In your mind it was a game to see who would take a break first, you didn't know if Spencer even knew of the competition, you'd never let him know.

This time, it was you. You moved from your position on the floor to sit on your bed, leaving your things sprawled on the floor. You let out a little grunt as you laid down on your side to watch Spencer as he worked.

His hair had gotten longer, and lighter. Most of it was pushed back behind his ears, there was a strand hanging out, everytime he'd push it behind his ear, it would make its way back out. His tongue was between his teeth, the habit he had started recently. He blinked less often when he was reading. He was hunched over with his legs crossed as he wrote in a position that his back would definitely not thank him for.

Your eyes graced down his figure, his collar bones were exposed as he unbuttoned, his top 2 buttons every time he came back to the dorm. His sleeves were rolled up, leaving his veiny forearms exposed to you. His hand was moving down a book with his middle two fingers.

You looked away from him and groaned. "I hate you."

He let out a laugh. You had your hands over your face. "What did I do?"

"Why do you look like that? You're studying and you look like that." You spoke muffled by your hands. You could hear him snicker from across the room. "It's awful."

"What are you trying to say?" He asked, you moved your hands to look at him again with a scowl. His eyes were large and innocent. Your eyes glanced down at his arms and hands to where he had stopped reading.

"I don't like you. You are a crime against me." You huffed looking away again.

There was shuffling and you watched him move across the room and sit next to you on your bed. "What have I done now?"

Your face was flushed and you were not going to look him in the eyes. Instead you turned away from him, which made him stop you and turn you back. His head tilted over you. "You're so pretty." You muttered holding up your hands to brush that stupid strand of hair away from his face.

He turned red at the compliment. Looking away from you. "Stop." He was about to stand up, you stopped him from moving, pulling him back to sit down next to you.

"You are very handsome and I hate it, you're sat there, with your sleeves rolled up, it's a crime. Keep your hands and arms to yourself." You glared at him which turned him more red. He started letting out an awkward laugh which made you groan. "Even that was attractive. I hate it."

"I think you're mistaking me-."

"Don't even try to deny it, Spencer Reid. You are a crime against me, for being this good-looking. I'll sue you, I'm studying law, you know?" He raised an eyebrow at you as you hmphed.

"I don't think that'd hold up in court." He replied, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

"I'll make it hold up in court. Distracting me, damages to my livelihood." His face became more amused. "I could show a picture of you to the jury and they'd agree."

"You're hilarious." He rolled his eyes at you.

"I'm not joking." You spoke with the most serious voice you could muster. "I will sue you for being handsome."

"What can I do for you to not sue me?" He asked rasing an eyebrow.

"Nothing." You crossed your arms looking away from him. "Wait for the papers to be served."

He laughed, tilting your head back towards him, he leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead. "Is that enough?" He asked with a innocent voice. You shook your head. He then kissed both of your cheeks. His own face was turning red just as yours. You shook your head again.

He kissed the side of your lips. "What about now?" He asked, you pouted at him, shaking your head again.

He leaned down again this time, hovering right above your lips. Taking a moment before pressing down. His lips pressed against yours and its as if your mind short-circuited. Everything in the room faded away. All you could think about was him.

His lips lightly chapped from grazing his tongue over them all day, they were soft and warm. You both hummed into the kiss, as if it was the breath of air you'd needed all day. You leaned up trying to deepen the kiss, only for him to move away causing you to let out a whine.

He was smirking looking down at you, foreheads pressed together. "You still gonna sue me?" He asked breathily.

"No." You muttered back, you eyes traveling from his eyes to his lips. As you moved forward he moved back until you were sat up with him.

"Promise?" He asked kissing the side of you mouth.

"Promise…" You hummed as he leaned back in. You pulled away quickly, narrowing your eyes. "For now." You quickly pressed your lips to his before he could restore, causing him to chuckle into the kiss. You both fell back onto your bed with you this time on top of him.

#spencer reid #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid fluff #Criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #Spencer reid x you #Fluffiest #Spencer reid x y/n #mgg

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clairewritesandrambles · 3 months ago

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More Than This - Scott Miller

Summary: A late night in the library with Scott results in revelations.

Pairing: Scott Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Heavy making out, Scott is a bit of an ass, that's about it tbh

A/N: I'm a little nervous about this one, I'm not gonna lie. This one was born out of a "surprise kiss" prompt from @broadwaybaggins, so if you like it make sure to thank her. Thank you to @seeyalaterinnovator for looking this one over for me. I wrote this over the course of like a week and basically all of it was between the hours of 11pm and 3am, so if this sucks... Uh, sorry.

You were going to kill Scott Miller.

Not only had he chosen to sit at the table next to you, despite the desolation of the library at this time of night, but now all you could hear was the rhythmic smacking of his gum. That habit was one of many that had annoyed you since you two had first met, and fought, in your first class at MIT four years ago.

"Scott!" You snapped, staring at him as his head popped up to look at you. His brow furrowed slightly at you before he realized what was bothering you, a smirk taking over his face. He cracked his gum loudly, his face breaking into a triumphant smile at the sight of the muscle in your jaw jumping in annoyance.

"Were you born annoying or did that come later?" You asked, flipping the page of your notebook aggressively enough to rip it on a few of the top coils.

"Only since I met you," he replied, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. "You bring out the worst in me, what can I say?"

You rolled your eyes at him, eyes drifting back to your notebook as another self-satisfied crack of gum came from his tongue. You had seen the fear in the eyes of the library staff as they left and saw you and Scott staying behind for a late night of studying. You two had become infamous to the building for the fights that occurred over textbooks and private rooms, but you were determined to show that you could survive one night alone with him without resorting to violence. Even if he was making it incredibly difficult.

You shifted in your seat and attempted to refocus on the problem in front of you, but the formulas in your notebook had started to bleed together. You glanced at the clock on your laptop, scowling as it switched to 1:15am. Your body was screaming at you for sleep, but you knew that if you wanted to beat Scott on your upcoming project you'd have to power through.

Glaring at Scott you quickly saved your document before you grabbed your water bottle and walked to the fountain on the other side of the floor. He could be trusted to not steal your things, but could not be trusted enough to not mess with your notes. You had learned that the hard way.

You began walking back to your table, still feeling the physical pull of your body to sleep, coming to a sudden stop when you realized that the resource book you had been using was no longer where you left it.

Instantly your eyes slid over to Scott. Sure enough, there he was leaning back in his chair as he flipped aimlessly through your textbook. You could feel the blood rushing through your body in anger as you slammed your water bottle on the table, making Scott look up at you in mock surprise.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You snapped, stalking towards him.

"What's the matter?" He questioned, rising out of his seat as he took the defensive position to your approach.

"Give me the book back, Scott. I just want to beat you on this project and go home." You tried to grab it from his hands, but he was quick to raise it above your head.

"It'll be here tomorrow; you could always just go home now." You scoffed at the suggestion, kissing your pride goodbye as you began jumping to try and reach the book. "I can see the circles under your eyes, I'm doing you a favour."

"Don't patronize me," you said. "This is just another plot to make you feel superior. We both know you've hated me since we met; you don't actually care about anyone other than yourself."

You were surprised when, instead of a sarcastic retort, you were met with a scowl from Scott as he lowered the book, no longer taking joy from teasing you.

"You really think that low of me?" Your stomach dropped slightly at his question, combined with the pink tinge to his cheeks and furrowed brow. Maybe you had been too harsh. "You were the one who started that argument and then never tried any other approach with me afterward."

"Would it have mattered if I did?"

Scott let out a low chuckle as he took a tentative step towards you. "You know, for someone so smart you can be really dumb."

He stood so close to you that your chest brushed his with every breath. Your brows knitted together at his words, the meaning coming to you a split second before his gaze dropped to your lips. Then he was kissing you, one of his hands coming to cup your face as he gently moved his lips against yours.

You stayed still for a moment, the sweetness of his movements in such conflict with your perception of Scott that you felt like you were short-circuiting. Before the rational side of your brain could catch up your subconscious body pushes you closer to him, hands knotting in his worn Bruins sweater that you had become so familiar with over the years. You could taste the spearmint of his gum, almost being thankful for his obnoxious chewing for the first time. Being this close to him you could smell the hint of Irish Spring that hid under his usual scent of an evergreen forest that had just experienced rain.

God, even his smell was a contradiction; a mix of frugalness and frivolity.

You deepened the kiss, pulling him closer as you tried to ignore the butterflies emerging in your stomach. Scott backed you up in response, grabbing your thighs and lifting you onto the table when you hit it. He kissed you with the patience of someone who seemed to think he had all the time in the world to do so, hands running over your body as he pulled you desperately closer.

Finally, he broke the kiss, allowing you to breathe properly for the first time in several minutes, and began kissing down your jaw and neck. "You can be so fucking frustrating," he sighs, sucking at the junction of your collarbone and neck.

The rational side of your brain was yelling at you, desperately trying to get you to remember that this was the same man you had hated for four years. Beneath it, however, was another voice asking if you really had hated him, or if you had simply felt safer telling yourself that you hated him.

You couldn't deny the way your body reacted to his touch or the way your heart had always sped up when he gave you his full attention. The way arguing with him gave you a thrill you had never experienced with anyone else. The fact that your classes together were the highlight of your week.

Yeah, you were so screwed.

But as quick as you realized these feelings, your brain began fighting back against them. This was still Scott, after all. How could you know if he shared your feelings or if this was simply a moment of lust? Was this a secret plot to humiliate you?

"Scott," you breathed, tugging on his hair to get his attention.

"What?" He asked, chest heaving. He was close enough that his breath fanned over your face, his deep blue eyes looking so deeply into yours that you were sure he could see through all your facades.

It was terrifying and confusing.

"I, um," you stumble over your words, having to rip your gaze away from him to calm your body enough to speak. "I should really get back to studying."

You could see his disappointment bleed out of his body at your words, his face falling slightly before he corrected himself. Back to the Scott you were used to: carefully manufactured for no one to see his private moments. The brief moment of vulnerability was enough to make your heart scream at you to pull him back in by his collar, but the whispers of insecurity from your brain stopped you from doing so. You could only hope that you were successfully hiding your inner conflict on your face. Maybe you two really were more similar than you thought.

"Right," he said, stepping back to allow you to slide off the table. "Sorry."

You avoided his eyes as you grabbed your textbook off his table, sitting down in front of your stuff as you tried to refocus. You knew it would be futile, your already exhausted brain running laps around the events of the night, but it was at least a little easier to sift through your thoughts without Scott's expert mouth on you.

You couldn't help yourself from stealing a glance at Scott, back at his own table. He had put his earbuds back in, aggressively typing as he looked at his computer with enough focus that you knew he was not going to look back at you.

You rested your head on your hand as you reopened the textbook, trying desperately to form any coherent thoughts. Your brain was combing through your memories of Scott, untangling all the moments you had been too blinded by your perception of him to see the full picture.

All those times you had insisted on sitting in his favourite study spot on campus, claiming that it was to annoy him. Reflecting on it now, though, you weren't so sure it was to annoy him. After all, you had never thought to spread yourself out enough that it would force him to find a new place. Instead, you had sat there and left the other chairs at the table empty, knowing that Scott would be too stubborn to give in and would take a seat in defiance.

The years of assuming that Scott was looking for a fight when he would approach you, not even considering for a second that he may have simply wanted your attention directed towards him.

As you continued going through the years you felt yourself being pulled into the floor, utterly exhausted by the mental gymnastics of the night.

How could one kiss change so much of what you thought you knew?

Your eyes open slowly, your body fighting to keep them closed despite the sound of Scott calling your name and gently shaking your shoulders. Your arms were folded under your head for some comfort, your body's fight for sleep apparently having finally won. Your eyes flicked to the clock on your computer, reading out that it was nearing 2am.

"Come on, you should get home," he said once you had woken up enough, nodding towards the exit.

You looked toward him to answer but found the words stuck in your throat and settled for a simple nod. He had already packed away his own things, his backpack slung over one shoulder and his old grey MIT hat covering his dark hair.

You closed your laptop, beginning to gather your things as you packed them into your bag. Wordlessly Scott grabbed your textbook, one which had been put to the side for your class, and returned it to the cart marked for your class.

When you didn't hear the expected sound of the exit doors you looked up, seeing Scott shifting his weight as he held his car keys in his hand.

He looked up at you as you gave him a quizzical look and twirled his keys on his finger. "It's the middle of the night. My mom would kill me if she ever thought of leaving you to get home on your own."

You briefly thought of refusing and taking a cab instead, but he was right about the issue of time. At least you weren't the only one who dreaded being in the same car after tonight if Scott's nervous motions were anything to go by.

You thanked him as the two of you walked out of the library, making your way to the parking lot where his black Audi was waiting. Scott held the door open for you as you climbed into his passenger seat, gently shutting the door after you.

As you sat and looked at his interior, you couldn't help thinking of an incident from a few weeks after you two first met. Scott had just beaten you on a unit test in class, so in retaliation you had parked your car behind his in the parking lot, boxing him in as he tried to get home. You, of course, had feigned innocence and claimed that your car had simply broken down in the position. It wasn't entirely unbelievable, your car had already been beaten up at the time and was now completely undrivable, but you had known from the second Scott's head popped out of his car that he didn't believe it for a second. Looking back on it, maybe you really had more of an active role in the state of your and Scott's relationship than you had previously considered.

Scott got into the driver's seat, tossing his bag into the backseat before starting the car. He fiddled with the heat, scrolling endlessly through his phone in search of a playlist. Every motion of his body was filled with nerves, emphasized by his eyes flitting to you every few seconds.

He finally decided on an old rock song from the 80s, putting his phone down as he sat back in his seat, his hands flexing around the wheel. You were about to say something in an attempt to put him at ease when he spoke first. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have kissed you out of nowhere like that," he explains, pausing slightly before continuing, "especially after everything."

"Oh," your heart dropped at his words, the conflicting emotions from earlier resurfacing in your chest. "It's fine."

You opened your mouth to ask him more about it, the confusion of his words mixing with your surfaced feelings to create a bitter taste in your mouth, before deciding against it and instead giving him directions to your place.

Like clockwork, your thoughts began to race again as you ran over his apology in contrast with his actions earlier in the night. The part of you that was still coming to terms with your feelings was eager to believe Scott's words, willing to believe that he could be cruel enough to lead you on without the intent to follow through. Had he simply seen you as a conquest? A challenge to overcome and then once he had proven that he could have you if he wanted, he'd turn around. Was he just horny and you happened to be around? Was that what had caused his whiplash reaction in the night?

But then the part of you that wanted him, the part that was unsatisfied with lonely nights spent studying, would argue. You had successfully ignored any actions from either Scott or yourself that had hinted at possible romantic feelings for four years. Could you really trust your cynical side to make rational decisions when it came to him?

You were thankful for Scott's music filling the car as you both sat in silence, turning over these thoughts in your head and only stopping when providing a new direction for Scott's driving. You snuck glances at him, but his focused gaze on the road didn't give away much to either side of your internal argument.

He finally pulled up to your place, forcing you to call a ceasefire for the war inside your head. You reached for the door, feeling like all you wanted to do was sprint for the safety of your bed, but your fingers refused to pull the handle for escape.

"What was your goal?" You asked, turning to look back at the driver's seat. Scott knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, prompting you to continue. "We've been at each other's throats since we met and you just suddenly kiss me." You watched him open his mouth to respond, but you decided to keep going. "And then you just tell me it shouldn't have happened! You just completely changed everything between us and then expected me to go back to how it was like it was nothing. How did you expect me to react to that?"

The part of you still rooted in your rivalry rejoiced in the guilty look on his face, though that voice that had been warring with you all night felt a pang of sadness at the sight, head dipping to look at your lap in anticipation of his response.

"What did you think would happen?" You continued, deciding to get your thoughts out before you had the chance to lose your confidence. "Did you think I'd be a notch in your bedpost after you've hated me for this long?"

"I've never hated you," he said, turning his body to fully face you now. "What aren't you getting about that? I wasn't trying to embarrass you."

"Then what were you trying to do?" You felt like someone was physically squeezing your heart, anxiety pooling in your chest at the potential for both joy or disappointment that could come from his words.

"I thought I made myself clear when I kissed you. You're the one who broke the kiss, that's why I apologized." The grip on your heart relaxed enough to allow a flutter of hope at his words.

"So, if I hadn't stopped kissing you..." You trailed off, unable to meet his earnest gaze. Despite the hope building inside of you at his words, you were determined to not allow yourself the potential disappointment from reading him wrong again. "What would you have done after?"

Scott let out an exasperated sigh next to you, finally making you peek at him. The street lamp outside illuminated his face just enough for you to see the amused smirk on his face. "You really are an idiot."

You tilted your head up further to get a proper look at his face. His expression matched the soft tone of his voice, both in direct contrast to his teasing words. Before your brain had the chance to talk you out of it, you cupped his cheek and brought his mouth to yours.

The dam that had held the butterflies from earlier to a trickle burst open to a flood, your heart celebrating its victory over your brain for the first time in your carefully conducted life. This time, neither you nor Scott were patient. You were both pulling each other closer, fingers threading through his dark hair as your body bumped the console of his car.

Even when you two separated to catch your breath you stayed leaned into each other, his fingers dancing over your lower back. Your fingers curled themselves into his sweater as you pulled him back towards you, relishing the taste of him and the warmth that spread through you as those walls you had built through the years began to fall.

You knew you should be going inside to sleep, but now that you had experienced Scott in earnest, his touch and taste spreading over you with every movement, you couldn't break yourself away. The practicality of a relationship could be figured out later, for now, you just wanted to make up for all the time you had spent too blinded by what you thought you felt to see the potential of him.

#twisters #scott twisters #scott twisters x reader #scott miller #scott miller x reader #one-shot

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haikyu-mp4 · 16 days ago

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January

word count; 953 – f!reader

Bokuto Kotaro learned his lesson last semester; he could not leave studying until the last minute. Thus, he begrudgingly put on an extra layer of clothes and walked through the snow to the library. He took a seat by a table in the back after smiling at the woman who occupied the other end. Outside the window, snow was falling slowly, and Bokuto wished he had enjoyed it more on his walk there before shaking his head and opening his books. Then he picked up a pen, which is where the struggles started rolling in. He could never figure out how to learn, which is why he ended up writing out words he didn't understand with no purpose for hours (minutes) on end.

You quickly had to look up again at the man who joined you at the table, and not just because of his handsome face. He was making a lot of noises and pressed his pencil down so hard that the paper moved and rattled along with the table. How were you supposed to focus like this? It wasn't long until you picked up your books and stood from your seat.

Bokuto looked up with an apologetic expression on his face, thinking you wanted to leave, but it quickly turned to surprise when you sat down across from him instead. "Hey, I'm y/n." His body got stuck in a seemingly shaken state. You looked at him expectantly until you decided to keep talking and picked up his notebook. "Wow, I don't know what any of this means." A chuckle left your mouth, and he finally gathered his thoughts.

"Me neither. I'm Bokuto." You happily shook hands and kept talking for the rest of the hour. An hour might have been a bit too long for a study break, but it was only January after all. "-I also like drawing, but there won't be any time for that this semester if I can't figure out how to learn stuff and actually remember it later."

"Why don't you draw it, then? Two birds, one stone," you said, pitch going up in the excitement of helping your new friend. "I draw all my notes. Writing is so boring and does nothing for me." Bokuto looked at your notes when you showed him the pages covered in different drawings and colours. He couldn't help but think that even though he couldn't tell what you studied, he kind of understood what the page tried to teach him. Are you some sort of guardian angel?

"That's brilliant."

You and Bokuto met at the library a few more times, and you watched him become more confident with his studying. You peeked at the pages sometimes, and he even inspired you with his little arrows and other additions to help remember. One day when you sat across from each other, you noticed that his hair kept falling in his eyes. He hadn’t had the time to gel it, nor cut it lately, and it had grown quite fast. Rummaging through your bag, you found a small scrunchie and placed it on the table between you. "Here, take this." He looked up wide-eyed, glancing at it and then back to you before shaking his head.

"Thanks, but I don't think so. I'll look stupid," he whispered while leaning slightly over the table.

You shrugged your shoulders and went back to your notes. "Suit yourself." After a couple of minutes passed, you saw a hand reach out and grab the scrunchie. Amused eyes stayed on him with a fond smile as Bokuto gathered some hair on top of his head and secured it with your hair tie. Because the sun had gone down outside, Bokuto could turn to the window and easily see his reflection, a burst of childish laughter bubbling in his throat at the sight of his hair. You could only watch him from your side of the table, shaking your head and sighing affectionately.

"I don't think I can read another word," Bokuto admitted hours later and closed his book. "I've had enough for today." You chuckled and nodded in agreement. You both began packing up your stuff, standing up to get the last books into your bags. When that was successful, you looked at each other and frowned. Bokuto seemed frozen with a blank expression.

"Bokuto? You okay there, bud?"

"Huh? Yes." He still looked like he was thinking about something, contemplating. Instead of keeping you waiting anymore, he just asked. "Want to hang out sometime?"

You smiled at him, taken off guard but happy he asked. "Sure, what do you want to do?" Bokuto had not thought about that part. What do you ask a woman to do? What's normal? He said "Hang out", where do men and women just hang out? His mind quickly tried to figure out an answer, and the first thing that came to mind was-

"Maybe a morning run? Would be nice to have some company." He grinned at you, satisfied that he didn't say anything too weird. You squinted at him, confused about the unexpected suggestion. I'm not exactly a runner.

"That sounds fun. When?"

"7 a.m.? I have a class at 10." You pushed away any negative thoughts when he smiled so innocently.

“That works. Meet you outside the main entrance at 7 a.m. tomorrow,” you repeated to check that you had all the facts, also realising how early 7 a.m. was for running.

"Cool." Bokuto bounced on the balls of his feet, looking like he was re-energised by the agreed hang-out. "See you, y/n!" He quickly turned around and walked out of the library, roses on his cheeks before he even got outside.

The Schoolyear Series ║ masterlist

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azzo0 · 9 months ago

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Exam Season

Summary: Katsuki comforts you when you feel frustrated revising for exams.

Pairing: Bakugo x gn!reader

Contains: a wee bit of crying with fluff

wc: 1.1k

Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows at you, sitting in the common room as everyone went about their after-school studies, given the third-year final exams were fast approaching. He stared at you, noticing the dark circles under your eyes as you bit the inside of your cheek, nose buried deep in a textbook.

You'd been a little distant lately, and it pissed Katsuki off. You arrived early to class to get some studying done before Katsuki could greet you over breakfast and left the classroom first so you could get to the dorms and revise. Whenever the bakusquad invited you to hang out, you shot them down with the excuse, 'I have a lot of revision to do.'

He could see the signs of exhaustion creeping all over you. You were yawning and rubbing your eyes again. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance when he saw you reach for the freshly made cup of coffee, your eyes glued to the textbook, unaware everyone had begun packing up their books to hit the bed. He waited for everyone to leave, pretending to flip a page or two when his attention was really on you.

The common room was soon deserted, with only you and Bakugo being the ones behind. He stood up and walked over to you, "Oi."

You looked up from the textbook to see your boyfriend looking down at you sternly, his arms crossed and legs apart in a dad stance, "It's time for bed."

"I'll go after I finish this section," You replied, "It's a little tricky and-"

"You've been studying the whole fuckin' day with no breaks, Y/n." Bakugo reasoned, "You'll get tired. C'mon, let's go."

"'Suki, please," you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, "I don't have it in me to argue with you right now, so please let me be."

Bakugo opened his mouth to shoot a reply, closing it instead when he saw the gloomy look on your face as you stared at the textbook again. He heard your stomach rumble and gave you one last glance before leaving.

Truth be told, you felt bad for ignoring him for the past couple of days, but you had not realised it while studying for the exams. You scrubbed your face and let out a long exhale, bringing your knees to your chest. Your stomach rumbled again, reminding you it needed to be fed. Ignoring your pleading tummy, you rummaged through your bag and pulled out a notebook and a pen to complete an exercise, forcing yourself to stay awake. The coffee seemed to be doing the opposite of keeping you open-eyed.

You gritted your teeth in irritation when you got a question wrong. You had watched online lectures for this very topic over and over again, and yet you still managed to mess it up. Frustrated, you tossed the pencil to the other side of the room, glaring down at the paper with your eyes blurring and stinging.

Katsuki happened to walk into the room just then, a plate with a sandwich in hand. He saw you staring at your notebook with glossy eyes. He was beside you in an instant, setting the plate on the coffee table and putting his hands on your shoulders, "Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

You shook your head and wiped your eyes. Katsuki took your wrists, putting them down. He cradled your face ever so gently, making you look at him. He wiped away the tears with his thumb and kissed your closed eyelids. He brought your head to his chest and slowly moved his hand up and down your back while pressing sweet kisses into your hair.

"You wanna talk about it?" He asked after a few minutes of silence, patiently waiting for your response.

"I just-" you muffled into his shirt, "I feel tired of not being able to achieve the grades I work so hard for. It's frustrating getting all these papers back to see all that work was for nothing. I want to do better on these exams, Katsuki. I'm trying my best, but I'm so scared I'll mess up."

You pulled away from his shirt, rubbing your eyes, "And this stupid chapter is so annoying I can't understand it no matter how many videos I watch on YouTube."

"That's it?" Bakugo said once you were done, "That's what you're worried about?"

"Easy for you to say when you're on top of the class," You glared through wet lashes, "some of us have to work thrice as hard and still can't make it to the top."

"I didn't mean it that way, Y/n," He said with apologetic eyes, taking your hands. He kissed the inside of your wrist, moving up your arm and onto your cheek, getting you to giggle when his eyelashes tickled your skin. He pulled back with a grin, cupping your cheek.

"Don't compare yourself to me or others. Got that? You're you, and that's okay. Besides, It's not like the world will end if you don't get an A." He tilted your chin towards him when you looked down sullenly, "Or will it?"

"It won't." You mumbled.

"Damn right. It's just a stupid piece of paper. It isn't going to define you or your life." He finished with a kiss on your forehead, "You got that?"

"Mhm."

"Can't hear ya, sweets."

"Yes, sir."

Katsuki pinched your cheeks and squished them together, planting a kiss on your lips. Satisfied with your goofy smile, he gave you the sandwich, "Eat up."

Your heart stirred when you took the sandwich from him. Why was he so sweet?

Katsuki pulled your textbook to himself to see which unit you were working on, eyes skimming over your notes thoughtfully, "You could have come to me if you needed help with this, you know?"

"You're busy preparing too, 'Suki."

"I know, but I could've still helped you out with it." He said, closing the textbook, "No more studying for now. After you finish that sandwich, I'm taking your ass straight to bed. If you rest well, yer going to be able to grasp the concepts better."

"Okay," you smiled, munching on the sandwich.

"There's still three weeks till the exams, so we're goin' out tomorrow to freshen up that cute little head of yours," he said, poking a finger on your forhead, "No thinkin' about school or exams or books. Just a day out with you and me. After that, I'm helping you study, alright?"

"Sounds nice," you hummed.

He huffed and silently watched you eat. Seeing you smile again with bright eyes as you rocked back and forth while eating made him feel content. As soon you were done eating, he grabbed you by the wrist and hoisted you up, throwing you over his shoulder without a warning.

"Katsuki!" You squealed.

"Hup, hup, time for bed."

A/N: It's exam season, and I haven't been feeling my best. This is for everyone studying for exams and tests. Don't forget to take breaks and get plenty of sleep. Good luck :)

#katsuki bakugo #bakugo #bakugo fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha x reader #mha fluff #azzo writes

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jayniks · 6 months ago

Text

SEX NOTE (p.js)

after summoning heeseung, you wandered around your room looking for any ideas. Seeing your poster of your favorite band, you thought "why not invoke the guitarist?" and that's what you did, although the situation was quickly reversed when you saw how malicious he was.

WC . 2,3k

PAIRING . Shinigami!jay x fan!reader

WARNINGS . smut (mdni), oral sex (m receiving), tease, anal sex, mouth fucking, a little cuck!jake?, mentions of Jake's mom and Jake himself, magical appearance, chocking, a little filler just like in the original series, degradation, tying, unreal themes, a bit of noncon?, squirt, curses, let me know if I left something out.

< go back . next chapter >

Let's forget about that awkward interaction with Jake and let's talk about you, although let's not let pass that you avoided each other for 2 days in a row, what matters is that now you two are talking. About what? I don't know, he mentioned something about a trip to Australia for a week to see his family but you weren't paying much attention, you were aware that he was probably abandoning you to avoid any more awkwardness, after all, no one would act nice after listening to his best friend that he knew since he was 3, who helped her in her worst moments, fucking they favorite idol NEXT to his room.

"Dummy, are you even listening to me?" Jake asked in a somewhat tired tone. His words brought you out of your trance and you just nodded, "really? summarize what I said" he looked at you seriously. "Um, are you going on a trip home?" You exclaimed without much confidence, maybe you should have listened to him but you felt physically and mentally exhausted after that night in which a magical book fulfilled your fantasy. "Oh yeah? And why?" He looked at you again with those judging eyes, God, how you hated him. "I don't know," you admitted, already imagining the scolding that awaited you. "I'm going to Australia to see my family, I'll only be gone for 5 days, please don't come into my room, take care of the apartment" he warned you, you knew it was better to listen to him.

"Yes Jakey, I understand, please send my regards to your mom-" you didn't finish the sentence because you were interrupted by your friend, "No, you're going to take her away from me, it seems like she loves you more than me," and with that lie he left the dining room to go pack his bags in his own room. Within hours, you were at the door hugging goodbye, after all, you didn't hate him that much. The house was desolate, you felt more alone than ever.... it's good that you had the book to help you. It was a little selfish and self-centered that you cared more about the book than your own best friend who watched you grow up. But you know what else grew? Your desire to try more people.

You ran to your room and sat at your desk to prepare to look at the notebook. You just did that, watching it for almost 10 minutes, maybe waiting for it to start writing itself. Finally, you opened it, there was what you had written about Heeseung yesterday, in the first few lines of the page. You had the decision whether to repeat the same thing from yesterday or write a new story below. You scanned your room for something, anything, to find any answer to a question you hadn't asked yet. Your favorite Chinese actress? No, she was in a relationship. Your teacher? Ew, gross. Your favorite band? No! There were a lot of people and you would just go on the safe side- OH GOD! YOUR FAVORITE BAND!

Sure, Glam was your favorite band years ago, but it was a band from the '30s, the members were already dead, although you were hyper fixated on the guitarist, Jay Park. Of course, he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen before; his upturned nose, his strong jaw, the way his cheeks are marked when he smiles, those skillful fingers... if you were to mention all the reasons why you love him you would probably never finish and this fanfic would never be published.

You grabbed the same pencil you had written about your night with Heeseung with, hoping to capture a new adventure, this time with Jay. Emotions overwhelmed you, but this time you wanted to give it a different touch, perhaps less imaginative and more direct. You sat at your desk, ready to put every detail on paper. "Jay Park from the Glam group will appear..." you began to write, but suddenly the pencil stopped working. Frustrated, you looked at the tip, trying to figure out what had happened. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. You decided to try scratching the pencil on a piece of paper to the side. But no matter how hard you tried, there wasn't a single mark. Resigned, you grabbed a permanent marker, determined not to let a simple pencil stop you. With a firm hand, you started again: "Jay Park from the group Gla..." But, just as you were about to finish the word, something strange happened. The letters began to fade before your eyes, as if the paper was rebelling against your attempts. Desperation took over you. You gripped the marker tighter and began scratching furiously on the page, as if the simple act of writing could exorcise the frustration you felt. But in your outburst, the blade tore with a tearing sound.

Suddenly, the book opened on its own, as if it had a life of its own. The pages began to move, creating a ghostly wind in the room. Dark letters appeared on the torn page, slowly forming a sentence: "For being greedy, you will be punished." Fear paralyzed you, a chill ran down your spine. It was as if the book was alive and aware of your desires and failings. You felt a rising panic, a primal fear that told you something terrible was about to happen. You closed your eyes, resigned to your fate, waiting for the punishment that, according to the book, you deserved. The room fell into a deep silence, and you prepared to face the unknown, your blood freezing and your heart pounding in your chest...

Silence.

You opened your eyes after a few minutes of silence, and nothing had happened. Confused, you looked around, but everything remained the same. You thought maybe you had read it wrong, but no, nothing had happened. You sighed in relief, trying to convince yourself that maybe the book had just played a prank on you. Maybe you had imagined it all, the result of your sexual frustration and lack of sleep. Yes, that must have been it, you were delirious, right? With a slightly clearer conscience, you turned to make the bed that you hadn't tidied since Jake left for Australia. Time had passed quickly since then, and the mess was piling up. But just as you were going to start cleaning, you felt a chill run down your spine.

When you turn around, you almost had a heart attack when you see the guitarist of your favorite band sitting on your bed, looking at you with a machiavellian smile. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Weren't you expecting me?" He said, faking a pout as he spoke to you. You were petrified. How was it possible? Had it just appeared out of nowhere? Your mind couldn't form a coherent thought when suddenly he grabbed you by the neck, choking you, and threw you hard onto the bed. "Honestly, I didn't expect to show up like this. I thought you would use the book wisely," he hissed. His words surprised you. Did you know about the book? Nothing made sense. What was happening? "You're wondering a lot of things, gorgeous. Do you really think a book like that would come alone?" He chuckled, his tone clearly mocking, "I'm a Shinigami. Who do you think gave your friend the note?"

Oh right, Sim fucking Jaeyun.

Jake was coming back from shopping, it was not his best day, the plastic of the bag he was carrying broke and his purchases flew due to the storm that hit just 4 minutes ago. He sighed in defeat, looking down to avoid getting soaked by the rain because his umbrella bent and broke. He wasn't looking forward so he ended up colliding with a stranger. He was going to turn around to apologize but there was no one there. He looked at the floor and saw a black notebook that was covered with a layer of plastic so it wouldn't get wet. At least he won't return home empty-handed.

Let's go back to where we left off, 'Jay' turned you around putting your arms behind your back. He took off his belt and tied your arms with it, leaving you completely at his mercy. He grabbed your hair, pulling you back and turning your head a little to whisper something near the juncture of your ear and cheek. "I didn't steal that fucking book so that a dirty human like you could come and desecrate it, scratching it and destroying it just out of anger," he spat with venom in his tone. He proceeded to throw you to the ground, kneeling in front of him while he looked at you superiorly. Your response was to look him in the eyes with pleading eyes, praying that he would even take pity on you and not hurt you.

He took your jaw in his hands, forcing you to look at him, and then he parted your lips, putting his thumb inside your mouth. "Let's see how well you know how to use that beautiful little mouth" he let out along with a deep laugh and then grabbed his erect member and passed his head over your lips, smearing them with pre-cum. You took the hint immediately and gobbled down what you could, leaving a considerable portion out due to its size, something that Jay didn't care about because when he heard your first 'gag' he pushed your head until your nose was touching his pelvis.

You were surprised and your throat contracted, you felt very strange, but you didn't think much about it either because he took his member out of your mouth the same way he put it in. You were about to breathe when, oh surprise, he thrust it back in! He made that move repeatedly, fucking your throat to his pleasure. "This is what you wanted, huh? You needy fucking slut". The boy exclaimed with a harsh voice, but do you know what else was even harsher? Your throat. His cock entered and left your throat with inhuman ease (because he's not human hahaha), letting drops of your own saliva mixed with precum fall into your mouth. You felt like you were choking, so Jay, being the gentleman he is, pulled his cock roughly out of your throat, holding onto your hair to keep you still as you took a sharp breath. He looked at you superiorly and proceeded to laugh at your state, "God, look at you, so pathetic, and we're just getting started," he smirked. Taking advantage of your weak state, he threw you on the bed with your legs bent, face down, leaving your butt within his reach and whim.

You had your head down so as not to turn around to see him, although I don't blame you, it would scare me too. You felt his cold hands caress your back and pajama pants. The calm was short-lived when you felt him tear your pants, making a hole in the center, right where your holes were. You couldn't see anything, and you felt disgusted by the fact that the fear you felt was turning you on. Your panties were wet, as were your buttocks from the licks Jay left behind. You swallowed dryly as you felt him rip your panties for more access, although that wasn't the worst, that came when you finally realized he wasn't going for your pussy, he was going for your asshole. You were going to protest about that but the scream that left your throat silenced all the words you had learned so far. He entered your inexperienced hole with the same force he used on your throat.

Your forehead hitting the headboard wasn't the most painful thing, curiously neither was his thrusts, it was the way your back was bending to keep you in a position where you wouldn't break. You knew Jay was talking to you, but you didn't understand, your mind was clouded by two things: pleasure and pain. Because of the position you were in you could feel your juices running down your legs and the splash when his sack hit your pussy. You couldn't take it anymore, it was too much for you, you began to feel that tickling in your belly that was so familiar but so different at the same time, it felt like your orgasm was close but much more powerful.

Jay's tip was mercilessly pounding that space inside you, which was enough to make you collapse, spurting his sack that only did more than slap your pussy to splatter more. Your throat was hot from the screams that came from it, being replaced by long sighs once Jay stopped for a few moments, perhaps to make sure you were okay, was there any goodness within that mocking creature? Well, no, because he proceeded to resume his thrusts with the same brutality as before. He crouched down a little so he was at the same height as your head so he could whisper some words to you that you had barely caught, "I'm not done yet."

Jake had tried to call you to let you know he was returning; he had bought the ticket for the next week. Once inside your shared apartment, he proceeded to look for you. "(___) you will not believe me!" he shouted excitedly, hoping his voice would resonate in the silence of the apartment. However, he received no response. He walked through the living room and kitchen, but he didn't find you. He heard sounds similar to your voice, which was a relief, but worry began to grow inside him, because he also heard other sounds accompanying yours.

Jake approached the door, narrowing his eyes in curiosity and some trepidation. The sounds were like knocks, followed by slimy-sounding splashes, clear enough to pique his interest. Without a second thought, he turned the knob and slowly opened the door. What he saw on the other side left him speechless, his best friend being ridden by another person he couldn't recognize.

Taglist:

@nshmrarki @cha0thicpisces @seokseokjinkim @kimsunoo2003 @rikisave @strxwbloody @nyfwyeonjun @enhalusional @kgneptun @fleurixzs @simpjay

Enha Taglist only:

@lilyuwon @myywonie @ratedjaeyoon

(I couldn't tag the others)

A/N: omg guys thank you so much for those 700 followers! I honestly didn't expect so much love from your part 🥺🫶 also, let me know if y'all want a kinktober ^^

#enhypen smut #enhypen fic #enhypen x reader #jay x reader #jay smut #jay hard hours #sex note series chapters

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