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yooie · 6 months ago

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𝘽𝙖𝙗𝙮 𝘿𝙤𝙡𝙡.

PAIRING: jake x fem reader

GENRES: SMUT, fluff

CW: jake is a little (lot) pervy, smut and more smut

summary: bf jake is obsessed his little doll gf.

- literally. just a a random ramble. i did not proof read and im dyslexic so pls dont make fun of me thank u ☝🏻

you already knew how much jake loved when you dressed up for him. from your pretty skirts to the little details of jewelry, lipgloss or some cute frilly socks. which is why it made you even more excited to do so. you got up early for class and got ready for hours, you wore his favorite absolute favorite skirt, obviously one that was a little too short. after finishing the last touches on your makeup you were ready to leave.

second period was the only class you two had together, physics, and when 1pm came around you walked in, without looking for him in his seat walking past him and to your own seat. you didn't need to look, you could feel his eyes on you. practically burning holes into your skin. and not soon after you had sat down you heard your phone ding

jake: not even a hi? :(

jake: you look so pretty baby..

jake: how am i supposed to pay attention now...

jake: did you wear that pretty skirt for me?

you watched as your phone repeatedly went off, causing you to turn off your ringer, smiling at your phone as you read the texts that repeatedly came in.

you: you better !! how else am i supposed to study your notes... you are all thats getting me through this stupid class :(

fuck. the more he stared at you the more he felt the fabric of his pants straining. he tried to take a deep breath before pulling his hoodie over his lap. you were just so cute but all his brain could think about was how cute youd look with his dick inside of you.

class went by slow as. hell. for the both of you. more for him, you just liked his attention, you knew he wouldn't be completely focused so you did try to pay attention some, taking some notes of your own.

as soon as the professor concluded the lesson jake shot up from his seat like a magnet, he needed to be near you. soon you felt him behind you, grabbing your backpack and putting it on his other shoulder. "hi babydoll," i smiled softly giving your head a small kiss which immediately resulted in your cheeks turning bright pink. his hand had found its way to your lower back, guiding both of you out of the classroom.

"i missed you~" you smiled glancing up at him, his hand carefully moving some of your hair aside. "yeah? wanna come back to my dorm, we can... study" he smiled with a small chuckle. "i still have 1 more class jake.." you pouted - "skip it." "jake-" "please... " he pouted like a little puppy, he was so clingy all the sudden, and you loved it. "fine," he smiled as you both walked through the campus toward your dorms.

"did you like my outfit?" you hummed, "what kind of silly question is that.." - "of course i love it,.. my perfect little doll~" he cooed, gently playing with the lace hem of the skirt between his fingertips. "so pretty for me.." he muttered softly, that alone was enough to make your brain start going fuzzy. thankfully not long afterwards you had both reached jakes dorm, letting you in and leading you to his room, setting both of your things down and plopping his self onto the bed. thank. fucking. god. you two were finally alone. he didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep his hands to himself. "cmere baby,"

jake signaled you over to him, patting his lap for you. you walked over and compliantly sat down in his lap, his hands wasting no time starting to roam your body. "fuck, you make me crazy, you know that?" he finally had no filter. you could feel your heartbeat racing with every touch. he quickly lifted one of his hands bringing it to your chin and guiding your face to meet his. "that was a question doll," - your mind sputtered for a moment before replying ever so quietly, just enough so he could hear, "i know.." ,he hummed contently as you answered him.

jakes hands snaked down, caressing the curves of your waist before running down your thighs, stopping before sliding them up your skirt and gripping your ass. "m,.. just these little panties?... my naughty doll..". your breathing hitched as you felt the wet spot in your underwear grow, trying to shift your hips around to hide it, which only resulted in him pulling your skirt up further. "ive been dying to fuck you all day.." you felt his large bulge pushing against your clothed cunt, earning a small whine from you. Jake smirked as he heard the beautiful sound leave your lips. he wasnt typically this forward with you, but you could see in his expression he was different than normal, his eyes darker, more needy, like he couldn't think straight.

"did you want my attention baby?" "m?, is that why you dressed up in my favorite skirt~?" you slyly nodded your head, "words baby,-" he carefully turned your chin leaving one of his hands fondling your ass. "yes jakey... wanted your attention.." you mumbled, he kissed your lips softly in reward. but before you knew it he was giving you the exact attention you were now craving, his lips pressed against yours moving rhythmicly together, the kiss was needy, sloppy, and above all hot. he carefully guided his tongue into your mouth, feeling your hips shift around needlessly, causing him to chuckle a little into your mouth, making you whine. "as pretty as this little top is, i dont think we need it," he whispered before asking and then carefully removing it from your body along with his aswell.

he quickly went to work, trailing wet kisses all over your neck down to your chest, he physically couldn't get enough of you, he would devour you whole if he could. he trailed kisses all the way down to your tits, carefully sucking on the skin, slipping his tongue down to play with your nipples. earning small whines and moans to leave your mouth as your head hung in his shoulder. "jake.." you whinned, you could feel your wetness soaking through your panties onto his pants at this point. he pulled away just to look at the mess you made, "oh baby, look at the mess you made.." he pointed to the wet patch on his pants, your cheeks were beet red at this point. "want some help?" you nodded quickly in response.

he wasnt going to tease you anymore, at this point his dick was painfully hard and he needed to fuck you before he would actually explode. jake quickly lifted up your hips pulling your panties off before setting you down on the bed and taking off his pants and boxers letting his cock finally spring free of its restraints. "what about-?" you asked as you still had on the mini skirt, "keep it on." he smirked

— too be continued?

honestly my first time writing and i kinda think its shit so idk if i should keep going or not, but honestly if at least like 10 ppl actually want me to write the rest, i will!! let me knoww...

#enhypen #enha x reader #enha #enha imagines #enhypen smut #enha smut #enha fluff #enha fanfic #enha fics #jake sim #jake smut #jake enhypen #enhypen jake smut #enha jake smut #enha hard hours #jaeyun x reader #jaeyun smut #jake sim smut #jake enhypen smut

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creamflix · 2 months ago

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ryomen sukuna x gn/f/m reader; established relationship, you help him dye his hair back 😽, so much fluff !!

as the morning sunlight filters through the curtains, you wake up and hear some rustling in the bathroom. curious, you slip out of bed and peek in, finding sukuna concentrated on mixing his hair dye. his pink hair has started to fade, revealing darker roots, and it’s surprisingly cute to see him so focused on his appearance.

“what do you want?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, though his tone is more teasing than annoyed.

“i thought i’d offer to help,” you say, a smile creeping onto your face. “need assistance with those hard-to-reach spots?”

he scoffs, crossing his arms. “you think you can do better than me? i’ve got this.”

you can’t help but giggle at his defensiveness. “come on, just let me try. you might be surprised.”

after a moment of contemplation, he rolls his eyes but eventually hands you the bottle of dye, a reluctant smirk playing on his lips. “fine, but if you mess it up, i’m blaming you.”

you take the dye and squeeze some onto your hands, carefully applying it to the back of his head where he can’t see. as you work, you feel him lean into your touch, the usual scowl softening into something more relaxed. “you’re surprisingly gentle,” he admits, the teasing edge in his voice fading away.

“can’t have you looking like a mess, can we?” you reply, your heart fluttering as you continue to carefully cover every strand. you share light banter, and it’s hard not to laugh when he pretends to scold you for being too slow.

after you finish, you take a step back to admire your work, a satisfied smile on your face. “there, all done! you look great.”

he turns to face you fully, a hint of color dusting his cheeks. “you did an okay job,” he grumbles, trying to maintain his composure, but you can see the amusement in his eyes.

as you both head back to the bedroom, sukuna settles onto the bed, still a little defensively crossing his arms. “this better be a one-time thing,” he says, though his tone is softer now.

“maybe we can make this a regular thing,” you suggest, curling up next to him.

he chuckles, a rare sound filled with genuine amusement. “as long as you bring the dye, i suppose i could tolerate it.”

softkuna.....save me......save me softkuna.....

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hayakawalove · 3 months ago

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Politely asking for spoiled princess and suguru uwu you would do that saur much justice im shaking at the thought EEEE

🗿

CW: Fluff, Eating, Reader Just Gets Babied, Gender Neutral Reader

W/C: 1,332

“Happy birthday to you,” you wake with a melodic voice filling your ears.

When you open your eyes, the first thing you’re met with is the beauty that is Suguru Geto. His eyes are crinkled as he grins, tone soft as he sings. It fills your stomach with an emotion that’s a bit hard to place. Joy? Gratitude? No, something deeper.

Suguru finishes singing and places a soft kiss on your forehead. Warmth bursts across your skin, trailing across the planes of your face. Suguru loves you. He loves you. He loves you. It was palpable, felt in everything he did.

He’s looking down at you, his fingers adjusting a piece of your hair behind your ear. He smells sweet, like icing and yearly wishes. You think he was probably making your birthday cake, and your-

“I made breakfast, want me to bring it to you or do you want to eat on the couch?”

It’s a tender question, because you know he would offer to bring it to you regardless of it being your birthday. That’s just the kind of man Suguru was.

He loves to spoil, loves to baby, loves to love. It was a bit overbearing at first. Over time you’ve learned to lean into it. In fact, you may lean into it a bit too much. Especially during times like these.

“Will you carry me to the couch?” You bat your lashes, perfectly playing the part of a needy partner.

“What, no ‘please’?” He teases as he stands.

“Suguru, it’s my birthday!”

“Ahh, I suppose you’re right. Manners aren’t required on national holidays, huh?”

“No!”

He grins and pinches your cheek lovingly.

You think he gets off on your defiance more than you do. Freaky bastard.

Suguru spins on his heels to bring your breakfast to the living room while you nuzzle into the blankets. If the promise of food wasn’t imminent, you probably would be drifting back to bed. But it was Suguru’s cooking you were talking about. Not a chance in hell you’d miss that.

He comes back after setting the breakfast down by the couch. Suguru lifts you up, his strong arm holding the back of your knees while your head rests against his chest. It’s a short walk to the living room, with golden light filtering in through your windows. He sits on the couch with you draped across his lap.

You peek an eye open and see the tray full of goodies in front of you. French toast, fruit, and eggs to name a few. It looks wonderful. The aroma floats over to you and makes you stir against him, but you’re so damn comfortable.

“Have you gone back to bed already?” The tone is teasing and it goes straight to your heart.

You grumble and nudge his chest with your head.

“Don’t you want breakfast?” He asks.

“Feed it to me…” you whine as you look up at him.

Suguru lets out a loving sigh. He’s putting on a front as if he may be bothered, but it’s a farce and you know it.

“What am I going to do with you?” He chuckles, looking down to cut your French toast.

You relax in his hold, your body laying across his thighs as he tends to you. He gathers a piece drenched in syrup before holding it up on the fork, looking down at you.

“You have to sit up, I can’t have you choking on your birthday.”

You pout and nuzzle further into him before shuffling into a seated position. Suguru brings the fork next to you, nudging it against your lips. The stickiness spreads across your mouth, dusting your lips with sugar. You open up and grin when the food hits your tastebuds. So good. He never misses.

“You could have me choking on any other day?”

“Don’t be a brat, sweetheart.”

You bite your lip and look up to him. There’s pink growing on his cheeks, and you can’t tell if it’s due to the hard work he’s put in this morning, or if it’s from the sight of you needing his help.

He places another piece in your mouth before setting the fork down to grab the fruit. He’s holding a grape, plump and cold as he brings it up to your mouth. You wrap your lips around the grape and eat it, flicking your tongue against his thumb as you do so. It’s hard to make Suguru flustered, but every once in awhile you’re able to achieve the task. Like now.

Suguru clears his throat and continues to pamper you, feeding you as you drape yourself across his body.

Once you’re finished eating, or more aptly once Suguru’s finished feeding you, you let out a heavy sigh. Your stomach and your heart were full.

“What’s next on the agenda?” You ask, as if you’ve had an arduous day so far.

“You tell me.”

There were so many options. More than anything, you just wanted to spend the day with him.

You also wanted to be babied by him, but that was neither here nor there.

“Suguru, will you paint my nails and do my hair?”

He looks a bit ruffled at the request. He was ready to offer you the world on a silver platter, and you just wanted to have your nails painted?

“Sure, baby. What color?” He gets up and shuffles around to locate the polish, grabbing all of the supplies he needs.

“Black?”

“Birthday black it is.”

Suguru told you that sadly, you’d have to come to the kitchen table to get your nails painted. He told you that a couch full of paint wouldn’t be very good, and you were inclined to agree. Suguru sits across from you at the table, brush in hand as he maneuvers around your fingers. He treats them as if they’re precious, delicate pieces of art.

It’s a sight to see. Soft locks fall over his shoulders as he analyzes his work, you think he must be biting the inside of his cheek.

Once he’s done, you marvel at the results. Neat, because obviously it was. Your nails shine under the living room lights, honestly it looked so good you almost felt bad not paying for it. He’s watching you, his fist propped up under his chin as he smiles at your enthusiasm.

“It looks so good Suguru!”

“Thank you, I’m happy you like it.”

You take another moment to appreciate your nails before you look back towards him. There’s love in his gaze as he admires you, a soft smile resting on his face.

“Hair?” You ask, wanting to feel his hands on your scalp.

Suguru raises his brows, and looks up towards your eyes as if you brought him back to reality.

“Hair.” He responds, getting up from his seat to gather the supplies.

He works silently while you talk his ear off. At the beginning of your relationship, you were a bit worried you annoyed him with all your talking. But now you know that’s not the case. He loves when you talk. He loves to listen. It’s not really a surprise when his best friend is Gojo, king of loud mouths.

When he’s done, he holds a mirror up in front of you. Suguru was talented in everything he did. Your hair was perfect, no strand out of place. The sight brings a grin to your face as you whip around to face him. He’s standing behind you, brushing a hand against your hair as he looks down.

“Thank you!” You jump up from your seat and throw your arms around his steady figure.

Suguru coos and hugs you tightly, resting his head atop yours.

“Of course, darling.”

Once you’ve had your fill, although you could hug him for much longer if given the opportunity, you pull away. You beam up at him while he lovingly looks back.

“Was that all you wanted to do today?” He questions.

“We’re just getting started!” You respond.

(THANK YOU FOR SAYING I WOULD DO IT GOOD YOU’RE SO KIND. SUGURU LOVES YOU VERY MUCH. I KNOW HE DOES)

#asks #🗿 anon #my writing #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #suguru x you #suguru geto x you #geto x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #THANK YOU #YOURE SO SWEET

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aclowntiny · 2 years ago

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Blue Skies- Yeosang x Female!Baker!Reader

Word Count: 2,970 | Fluff | Warnings: none hehe

I have decided to do a coffee shop story for every member because why not 😌 feat. Wooyoung because I can dangit 😈

Sun filtered through the plants that dripped from window boxes, falling gently onto the crown of Yeosang’s head. He strolled gently down the sidewalk, inhaling the scent of spring breeze.

A new café had opened up around the corner from his building, so in one of the windows of free time he received he elected to check it out.

The sign and logo, which featured a blue sky dotted with pink clouds, promised the cozy atmosphere Yeosang expected and received as soon as he walked in, greeted by tables that each had a cute figurine on their center and pastel cushions on all the chairs. There were even couches to sit on and a game table with a sign that read ‘Come Play With Us 🩷’. Yeosang considered sitting there, but no one else was present to play with.

There was much that he expected about the place: open tables, a cute but hip atmosphere, the smell of cappuccino steam rising to greet him…but one thing he did not.

A figure bent serenely behind the surprisingly large bakery case, smoothing out the frosting on the most delicious-looking cake he’d ever seen with a pastry bench, eyelashes fluttering slightly as she worked. The frosting was pure white, enrobing a small round cake that was now getting striped with strawberries, and the woman had a small, calm smile on her face, which focused on placing each one just so. It was just about the most gorgeous sight Yeosang had ever seen; his heart fluttering as he approached the counter. No one else was there- would the baker be the one to take his order, too?

Apparently she would. “I’ll be right with you, sorry! Just finishing up these last few strawberries,” she told him with a small, sheepish but bright smile.

He gave her one right back. “Of course. Take your time.” Sure, the others may have his hide if he’s late for practice, but so what? It was one day. Hongjoong would live.

His eyes kept drifting between the white tile floors and the baker’s fingers deftly, but gently placing their décor around the cake, which was soon slid into the display case next to a chocolate torte and beneath a mouthwatering selection of breads and tartlets.

“D- did you make all of those?” Yeosang blurted out before he could stop himself.

“I did!” Your smile widened into a full-on grin and Yeosang thought he might have a heart attack. “I’m in charge of pastries around here! Well, and drinks right now since my co-barista is on lunch. I’m all finished with the cake now, so what can I make for you today?”

“Um…” It was at that moment that Yeosang realized he had not once looked at the menu. His mind completely blanked, floundering for a moment until… “I’ve never been here, what do you recommend?” Nailed it.

"Well, I suppose that depends on if you like coffee or not. If you don't, my favorite is the London Fog latte, which is earl grey tea with vanilla. If you do, the lavender latte is our specialty and that one is really good too! Very pretty!"

Just like you, Yeosang thought. "Well then, I'd like to try that, please," he actually said, shyly nodding his head as she tapped a few register keys.

"Were you going to be staying here or taking it on the go?"

"Ah," Yeosang rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "I would love to stay but I should take it on the go."

"No problem! Your name?"

"Yeosang."

"What a nice name! I'll have that ready for you soon."

She was that nice to everyone. She had to be.

Yeosang thanked her, taking a seat at a table with a doraemon figurine winking at him. Cute. He didn't want to stare at the baker, whose name tag read (y/n), but his eyes had minds of their own, drifting constantly back over to the humming baker-barista. Eventually, he applied the three rule, counting to three before looking away so he never stared too long.

He was so focused on counting threes that he barely heard his name, practically jumping as (y/n) called him a second time.

"I hope you enjoy your latte, Yeosang!"

His heart flipped. He looked between his to-go cup, topped with lavender-tinted steamed milk poured in a heart shape, (y/n)'s beautiful smile, & that tantalizing bakery case.

"Er, before I go, how much is the cake?"

Just as Yeosang suspected, the boys were placated by free food.

"This is the best cake I've ever had," Mingi sighed, "where did you say you got this again?"

"The new café around the corner. The baker was really nice. She was finishing it up as I came in."

"If she bakes that good," the tall rapper continued, "I wanna marry her."

"She made my drink, too. That was really good. I really liked the atmosphere in there and she was very nice. Really makes you feel welcome."

"Watch out, Mingi, I think Yeosang is going to marry her," Wooyoung teased, sliding over the shining studio floor to claim a cake slice of his own.

Warmth flooded the singer's cheeks. "All I said was I liked Blue Skies."

"Whatever. Keep sweet-talking her and see if you can get some of this for free, huh?" Wooyoung suggested, elbowing Yeosang in the ribs.

"I might go back. I heard the London Fog is good there."

"Uh, oh, someone's baking a love cake!"

Placing the fat piping bag of green icing you'd held back onto the silver decorating table, you cocked a brow at your co-barista, Hakyeon. "Excuse me?"

"Look at you, piping little frogs holding hands on top of your cake. You and who?"

"Maybe I'm trying to get you a girlfriend," you teased, grinning and giggling at the way the tall man crossed his arms at you.

"No way, you're too happy to care that I'm single. What happened?"

Hakyeon stared at you, dark eyes boring into your soul in an attempt at a withering gaze that just made him look like an overgrown kitten. You couldn't take him seriously, bursting out with a laugh.

"See? I knew it."

"Ok, fine, a really cute guy came in yesterday and got a drink and a cake and I'm hoping he comes back and thinks the frog one is cute and maybe, just maybe, I can figure out who he bought a whole entire cake for the first time, especially if he wants a romantic cake."

Hakyeon blinked, stare melting into amusement. "Wow, that's an extremely elaborate substitute for just asking the guy out."

"He's a customer, I can't just-"

A wave of annoyingly well-manicured tan hands. "Yeah, yeah. What's this guy's name, anyway?"

You blushed. "Do I have to tell you everything?"

"I want to know who he is so I can tell if he's an axe murderer or not."

"Fine, his name is Yeosang, and he-"

Ding!

The bell hanging at your door chimed, sending you scrambling to finish your cake's green lattice sides and Hakyeon sauntering to the counter. Before he reached it, he whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "When I'm working, I want you sitting at the game table."

"But I have to work-"

"Just do it."

"Only if I'm not working on something. I can't leave stuff in the oven to burn, you know."

A familiar deep voice interrupted your banter, though, sending a happy little shock through your chest. Yeosang was back. And ordering a London Fog, which you remembered mentioning as one of your favorites. You peered at him through your lashes, blushing and practically throwing the frog couple cake into the glass to free up a hand when you saw him wave at you.

"Hi (y/n)," he said softly.

"Hi! Sounds like you're trying tea today?"

He nodded. "You said it was your favorite right? Then I had to try it." Pointing at the display, he let his gaze fall to your latest creation. "That's a cute cake. Did someone order it?"

"No," you shook your head, "I just thought it would be cute if any couples or people with significant others came in."

"I'm sure they'll love it. Could I get some jjinppang today? The guys in my group really loved your cake, too, but I can't spoil them too much."

Suppressing a grin at the evidence your frog cake totally provided you with, thank you very much Hakyeon, you obliged.

Yeosang left, London Fog gripped cutely in both hands as he sighed in curling clouds of steam, and Hakyeon immediately whipped his head your way, chuckling at your own sigh.

"Sheesh, no wonder. Guy must be a model or something. You. Tomorrow. Game table."

All you could do was smile, blush, and shake your head.

True to your-well, Hakyeon's- word, you placed yourself next to the ‘Come Play With Us 🩷’ sign, legs crossed, chin resting in hand, and latte coastered at your side, casually taking a sip as Yeosang walked in again.

“No cake today?”

"I did a sort of plain German chocolate today and decorate-your-own cookies, so I finished early. Wanna play a game?"

He did indeed, challenging you to a really cute cat café-themed dice game, totally creaming you AKA collecting more cats, and icing a decorate-your-own cookie because quote 'the members were being annoying today, so no free food for them'. He drew the cutest little character on his, shocking you when you discovered it was his own creation.

"I wanna put him on a cake!"

"Go ahead," he said with a smile.

Feeling guilty for shirking helping the other Blue Skies customers who ordered pastries, you glanced up at Hakyeon, who simply gave you a cheeky grin and wave. Rolling your eyes, you returned your gaze to Yeosang, who challenged you to a quick card game before he went back to work.

You won, so he claimed he needed to come back to Blue Skies for a rematch. "I- if you're ok with that."

"Of course," you giggled.

"'Favorite game buddy?' Dude, she's totally flirting with you."

"She's nice to every customer. You should have seen the way she laughed and clapped for another person's joke."

"Yeah, but did she draw a hehetmon with a heart on their drink?" Wooyoung asked, hand on his hip.

"She drew a heart in the foam of my first drink last week," Yeosang shot back, making Wooyoung want to take him by the shoulders and shake the forever-singleness out of his handsome friend, "that's, like, the most common latte art there is?"

The worst part was, Yeosang looked genuinely confused by Wooyoung's insinuations. The man was too pure for his own good. That was ok, though. If he wanted to be an angel, Wooyoung was more than happy to play the devil role.

"I don't know why you suddenly want to come to Blue Skies with me," Yeosang questioned with a furrowed brow, long black hair falling onto his forehead, "I've been going for, like, two weeks now."

Because you don't know how to make a move, that's why. Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, faintly obscuring the sun as a breeze ruffled through the planter boxes. The weather wasn't quite as sunny-go-lucky as it had been, as if even the sky knew a scheme was brewing.

"Well, if the lovely, very kind baker isn't flirting with you, then maybe I want some," Wooyoung replied with a wide grin.

"What?" If looks could kill, oh boy would Wooyoung be six feet under. It was like his friend had been taking lessons from Hongjoong or something.

Plans were plans, though. "Why not? She sounds great."

"She's not your type," Yeosang replied a little too quickly, pushing his stray bangs back out of his dark stare.

"Well, I'll be the judge of that," Wooyoung said sweetly as he pushed open the door, head swaying a bit with the tinkling of the cute little bell.

There was a girl behind the counter expertly pouring mirror glaze over some petit fours. She was cute, but definitely not Wooyoung's type. Even better.

"Well hello there," he called out charmingly as the girl smiled and waved, clearly over the moon to see Yeosang.

"Hi! Are you one of the guys from the group Yeosang told me about?"

"Yes, and you must be the baker who made that excellent cake, but I had no idea you were so beautiful," he complimented (y/n), leaning on the counter where she took up her spot by the register.

It took all his willpower to suppress the grin that rose to his face as his whole body was wracked by a hard elbowing and then some to ignore the whisper of "don't be a creep".

"Well, thank you," (y/n) smiled, but her gaze still fluttered back to Yeosang. Oh yeah. Wooyoung could just see the pleading in her eyes. She didn't want this from him.

"I hear you make great lattes, too, which I don't doubt. What do you recommend for someone like me, hm?"

"Weren't you just wanting to get an Americano like usual?" Yeosang cut him off, glancing just as pleadingly at (y/n), who kept up an impressive customer-service poker smile.

"I can do that. If you like it sweet, we do a really good brown sugar one."

Wooyoung fiddled with his collar. "Oh, I do like it sweet."

(y/n) laughed, but it was clearly strained, and her whole body practically melted in relief when Yeosang gave him an 'I don't know this man' glance and ordered a latte extra politely, no rush thank you so much (y/n), practically batting his eyelashes at her.

"Maybe we can have our next cat café match next time, huh?" Emphasis on our.

She didn't look up, but (y/n) accidentally delivered a killing blow. Wooyoung choked back a laugh, disguising it as a cough because holy crap, Yeosang was not going to take that correctly.

"Oh, is Wooyoung not going to be a regular, too?"

"No, I think he's just visiting for now, aren't you?"

Wooyoung flipped his hair back, coyly focusing on studying the Badtz-Maru figurine on the table. "You never know."

"I see," said (y/n), "good to know."

Yeosang's gaze darted between (y/n) and his friend, expression falling into one of defeat. His shining eyes were hard to watch, and in any other situation Wooyoung would have grabbed his hand and given him a hug. But that hug was going to have to wait, as (y/n) was making her way over with their drinks. From what Wooyoung gathered, she didn't usually personally deliver what she made.

She didn't even meet his eyes when she reached the table, looking only between Yeosang and the drink she placed in front of him. Yeosang looked up at her, dumbfounded, as she folded her hands behind her back, dawdling at their table.

She'd drawn a hehetmon on each drink, completely ignoring the fact that Americanos didn't even have milk just so she could splash enough on there to make one stick his tongue out at Wooyoung.

"No heart," he very loudly whispered, giving his dear friend a coy look.

Meanwhile and in stark contrast, atop the other cup, hehetmon peered up at Yeosang with a wide smile and a speech bubble that read 'date?'

Wooyoung had the pleasure of watching years melt off Yeosang's face as his sad puppy look morphed back to pure shock and adoration, a finger pointing at his chest.

"Yes," (y/n) said softly, "you."

"Well," palming the sides of the table, Wooyoung stood up, satisfaction fully lighting his face, "if you'll excuse me, I need to go look for a pastry to get for my brother."

Yeosang's heart melted at the way you looked at him. Him, not the confident flirt that was his most annoying best friend, the guy who was too scared to ask you out.

He couldn't believe such a beautiful girl, someone as kind and talented at making sweet, lovely things, wanted to go on a date with him, but he would thank every cloud in the sky if he had to that you did. As long as you weren't just trying to scare Wooyoung off.

"Really? I mean, yeah, I-"

"Good. Then tell your friend there I'm not interested in him, just in my usual sweet regular," (y/n) replied, voice and smile as kind and honeyed as ever, "ok?"

"You are? You really are?" He asked, dreamy smile involuntarily widening.

You simply nodded, smiling that serene smile you always had on when you frosted a particularly pretty cake. "Of course I am. How could I not be when you've been nothing but kind and fun, huh? You can tell your buddy I said that, too!"

"I will. I'll tell everyone," Yeosang replied before he could stop himself.

Your eyes shone, that beautiful color pulling Yeosang in even more. "I like the sound of that."

You made your way back to the counter, swinging open the little door and stepping back into the kitchen by the pastry case, where Yeosang's friend wandered back and forth, eyes flicking up to meet yours. When he saw you, he grinned sheepishly, pulling out a wad of bills and slinking over to the tip jar, where he dropped them in.

"For putting up with me and finally, for the love of God, getting him that date."

"You're terrible."

"Funny thing, I hear that a lot."

"But thank you," you added, shaking your head in exasperated mirth, "I needed the excuse to not be as creepy as, well you. For a date, and only if you promise to never do that again, I'll give you one of whatever you were looking at on the house."

"I thought you'd never ask."

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #yeosang #yeosang x reader #yeosang x female reader #female reader #fluff #coffee shop au

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reverseenchancia · 2 months ago

Text

In the heart of Enchantia, the afternoon sun filtered through the stained glass windows of the royal palace, casting vibrant hues over Cedric’s cluttered workshop. Shelves were brimming with potion bottles, spell books, and magical artifacts, each carrying its own history and enchantment. But today, amidst the magic, Cedric had a more immediate concern—his four-year-old daughter, Vivian.

Vivian, with her wide, curious eyes and untamed dark curls, was not one to be entertained easily. She sat perched on the edge of Cedric’s desk, swinging her legs while humming a soft tune, her tiny hands fiddling with a stray quill.

“Daddy,” she said, her voice breaking the calm silence, “I’m bored.”

Cedric, who was at his cauldron stirring a simple brew, raised an eyebrow and glanced at her. “Bored, you say?” His tone was playful, but his mind was already conjuring up ways to keep her entertained. He knew better than to leave Vivian to her own devices—her inquisitive nature had gotten her into trouble before, especially in a room full of magical potions and artifacts.

“Yes! There's nothing to do!” she declared dramatically, flopping back onto the desk with a sigh.

Cedric set down his stirring rod and turned fully to face her. “Well, I suppose we can't have that, can we?” He glanced at the many ingredients scattered about the workshop and then smiled. “How would you like to help me make a potion?”

Vivian’s eyes lit up with excitement. “A potion? Really? What kind?”

“Oh, nothing too dangerous, of course,” Cedric replied, walking over to his shelves. “Just a little something fun. Perhaps a sparkling elixir, hmm? Something safe enough for my curious little assistant.”

Vivian hopped down from the desk, her boredom instantly forgotten. She ran over to her father’s side, her eyes wide as she surveyed the rows of colorful ingredients.

Cedric knelt beside her, pointing to a variety of jars and bottles. “Alright, we’ll need a few things: star lily petals, moonstone dust, and a dash of pixie dew.” He handed her a small jar filled with shimmering petals. “You can start with these. But remember—gently.”

Vivian carefully took the jar, her tiny fingers gripping it with care. She tiptoed back to the cauldron and, after a moment’s concentration, sprinkled the petals into the bubbling mixture. The potion sizzled and sparkled in response, much to her delight.

“Good, very good!” Cedric praised, stepping up behind her. “Now, next, we need the moonstone dust.” He handed her a small, delicate pouch.

Vivian’s face scrunched up in concentration as she carefully pinched a bit of the dust and let it fall into the cauldron. The potion shimmered, swirling with new colors—pink, blue, and gold.

“Wow…” she whispered in awe.

Cedric chuckled softly. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Magic can be quite wondrous when handled with care.”

As the potion began to settle, Cedric found himself reflecting on moments like these. He remembered a time when Vivian was only two years old, still so new to the world and his life. She had been a handful then, full of energy and curiosity that sometimes led to a bit of mischief. He’d had to discipline her for the first time after she’d accidentally broken one of his spell books, not understanding the danger of playing with magic. It had been a learning moment for both of them—him learning to be patient, and her learning boundaries.

“Daddy, what are you thinking about?” Vivian asked, breaking his thoughts as she looked up at him, her eyes bright with curiosity.

Cedric smiled, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Oh, just remembering when you were smaller, and all the little adventures we’ve had. You’ve grown quite a bit since then.”

Vivian grinned. “I’m a big girl now!”

“That you are, my dear,” Cedric agreed, ruffling her hair. “But no matter how big you get, there will always be new things to learn. Like today—this potion is just the beginning.”

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the potion bubble and sparkle in the cauldron. Vivian leaned against her father’s leg, her earlier boredom forgotten in the shared joy of creation.

Cedric glanced down at her with a fond smile. He’d never imagined that being a father would come with so many challenges and rewards. There had been times he’d worried about being too strict or not knowing how to guide her. But in moments like these—moments filled with laughter, creativity, and wonder—he knew that they were finding their way together.

“Alright, my little potion master,” Cedric said, his voice taking on a more formal tone, “time for the final ingredient: pixie dew. A very delicate addition—do you think you can handle it?”

Vivian stood up straight and nodded seriously. “I can do it, Daddy.”

With steady hands, she took the tiny vial from him and, with the precision of a true sorcerer, added just a single drop into the cauldron. The potion let out a soft, harmonious chime, and suddenly, a burst of sparkling light filled the room, swirling around them in a cascade of twinkling stars.

Vivian gasped, her face lighting up in pure delight. “It’s so pretty!”

Cedric smiled, watching the display with equal fascination. “Indeed. You did wonderfully, Vivian.”

She beamed up at him, proud of her work. “Can we make another one tomorrow?”

Cedric chuckled, scooping her up into his arms. “We’ll see, my little sorceress. For now, let’s let this potion settle and perhaps have a little rest ourselves. Even great sorcerers need a break.”

Vivian snuggled into his chest, already content and sleepy from the excitement of the day. As Cedric carried her towards the door, he glanced back at the shimmering cauldron, feeling a deep sense of fulfillment. Parenthood was full of unexpected moments, but with Vivian by his side, every challenge became an adventure—and that was the real magic.

Together, they left the workshop behind, stepping into the soft, golden light of the late afternoon, their bond stronger than ever.

#sofia the first #sofia the fandom #cedric the sorcerer #vivian is cedrics daughter #reverse enchancia #sofia the first au #father and daughter

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justimajin · 1 year ago

Text

Drabble #2

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Words: 1.1k (welp)

↠ Warnings: so much more fluff

↳ This drabble takes place after the Epilogue and Drabble #1 of The Profit & Love Statement

The big day is here.

You knew it had been approaching, having marked the date on your calendar with giant circles and stars. You had put in a request for a day off soon after immediately finding out and removed any errands you had planned on doing.

Because today was not only a big day, it was a very special one as well.

“I can’t believe Yuna’s graduating already.” You let out a wistful sigh. It had just been yesterday when she had entered high school, but four years had passed by with a breeze.

Not only was Yuna older now, she was an adult and you were tremendously proud.

“Time flies, doesn’t it?” The corner of Yoongi’s mouth lifts, a nostalgic look in his eyes. He very well knew what you were experiencing, being a spectator to his own children getting older.

“It sure does.” Both of you turn at the sound of Hoseok’s voice, who strides closer to you.

He deeply exhales, blinking as if time escaped him. “They just grow up so fast….”

Yoongi frowns, “Hoseok, you’re not that old.”

“I wasn’t talking about myself!”

“Sure, you weren’t.” Yoongi smiles as you chuckle, to which Hoseok just sighs.

He turns to you, “Should we head into the hall?”

You nod, heading in together.

The three of you get seated as the ceremony begins. It starts off with Yuna’s high school introducing themselves and thanking everyone for coming, before the grandiose music plays and you eagerly watch, pulling out your phone in anticipation as names filter through.

You’re amused to see Yoongi and Hoseok pull out their own phones, attempting to capture the moment to the best of their ability.

However, the seat that sits right next to you stays empty.

You gaze at it wearily, something that Yoongi picks up on.

“Where’s that husband of yours?” He whispers, and you grimace.

“Still stuck at work.” You mention, tightening your grip on your phone. “He’s supposed to be presenting a new project as the CEO, but he told me he would sneak out as soon as he could.”

Jin had been texting you constantly since you had arrived, lighting up your phone with frequent updates about his delay and reassuring you that he would be there. But as time spun away, you were getting more and more anxious.

“Don’t dwell on it too much.” Yoongi says, “He’ll be here soon.”

“I hope so.”

He leans closer to you, “If anything, we all know just how good he is at sneaking away.”

A smile rises to your lips and Yoongi grins.

The names continue and you keep watching, eyes flickering over the many graduated students that walk along.

Your phone vibrates.

You immediately glance down, surprise etching onto your features.

[Jin] 12:40pm: Namjoon will cover for me, don’t worry

– 1 new message

[Jin] 1:04pm: The handsome husband has arrived

Snapping your head up, you instantly turn around, attempting to look beyond all the heads currently focused towards the front. It takes you a couple of seconds, but then you notice a man attempting to shuffle his way through and a giant smile breaks out onto your features.

You wave your hand and Jin notices right away, filtering himself through before walking closer to his seat.

He instantly wraps his arms around you, “You made it!”

“Didn’t I say I would?” He remarks, looking at you playfully.

“You did.” You confirm, but then your attention is drawn to his black suit and the bouquet he holds in his hand.

“Not too bad.” You beam, and he winks at you.

“I try sometimes, you know?” A chuckle escapes you, and he reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

A pink rose emerges out and your eyes widen as he hands it to you.

You hold it tenderly, “It’s beautiful.”

“Just like you.” He softly says.

Yoongi awkwardly coughs, glancing in your direction.

“I don’t understand how you’ve been married for a year and you’re still like this.”

Hoseok quirks up a brow, “Hyung, didn’t you just tell me the other day how much you love it when Hana smiles?”

“That’s different.” Yoongi frowns, “We’ve been married for years.”

“Sure, it is.” Hoseok smiles knowingly, and you grin when he makes eye contact with you.

“It’s okay, Yoongi,” Jin looks over, sending him a flying kiss, “I love you too.”

Hoseok attempts to stifle his laugh as Yoongi recoils. You lean against Jin, giggles leaving you as he continues to look at Yoongi with serious fondness.

However, that’s when the names draw closer to one that you’ve been anticipating, and you hurriedly scramble to lift your phone.

Yuna’s name is called, and your eyes practically shine at the sight of your sister walking down in a graduation gown.

She has an enormous and infectious grin to her lips as she eagerly takes her certificate. Stopping for a moment, she glances out into the audience, her eyes flickering around carefully until they land on the sight of you.

Jin is loudly cheering. Hoseok is shouting at the top of his lungs. Yoongi has a huge gummy smile. And you are proud beyond belief.

Your eyes make contact and Yuna breaks out into a huge smile that you reciprocate.

“She walked down so confidently! I’m so proud of her!” Hoseok exclaims, exiting out of the venue.

“Can’t believe she’s a graduate now.” Yoongi remarks.

“Me neither.” Jin adds in, but he falters for a moment.

Turning around, he notices you’re not beside him, rather trailing far behind.

“Y/N?”

You look up, startled to find Jin in front of you. Clearing your throat quickly, you sniffle and his eyes widen.

“I’m just really happy for her.” You bring up, “And kind of wish our parents were here to see how far she’s progressed.”

An awkward chuckle leaves you as you attempt to swipe away the tears. Jin takes a tissue out of his pocket, handing it to you to which you gratefully accept.

You gaze at him and he smiles reassuringly.

“You guys okay?” You hear Hoseok shout, much to your surprise. However, Jin swings his arms around you, shouting back.

“We’re fine, Y/N just missed me a lot!”

“Jin!” You hiss.

He childishly snickers, “Sorry.”

You playfully shake your head, and he tugs you along.

“Come on, let’s go find Yuna and then meet up with others at my restaurant.”

You nod, holding onto his hand tightly.

Request by:

@jovialtragedyheart

A/N: Hello! I hope you are doing good as well ^.^ For this one, I decided to choose Yuna's graduation! I thought it would give a nice glimpse into the future and feel like an update on everyone ☺️ I hope you don't mind that I focused on a few characters only, I wanted to give Y/N and Jin a moment too 🤭 Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you like it <3

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rageagainstmymachine · 1 year ago

Text

Kinktober 2023 | Edward Richtofen/ F! Reader | Fic 5

Roleplay

Words: 2,673

Tags: Soldier Edward, Nurse reader, hand jobs

1917, Germany.

The light was blinding as it filtered through the window, the room smelled of stale air and sterile equipment. The war was hell on the soul, as well as on the body.

Edward Richtofen groaned out, trying to shift his bandaged body, his leg was splinted, head compressed and abdomen wrapped, a tinge of pink slightly soaking through. He didn’t have a clue of how long he had been here, nor how he got here, but the bandages gave away the possible reason.

He was still in his uniform, donning the drab but effective field grey wool. It was a damn scratchy fabric, even more so now since it was all he could focus on in this basically bare room. At least his boots and helmet were taken off, he could appreciate that.

Edward’s ears perked up as he heard footsteps right outside the door, a nurse, no doubt, the clicks of heels on hardwood floors were distinct. Just as he hoped, the door creaked open, revealing a neatly dressed nurse. She donned wide eyes as she made eye contact with him.

“Gott im Himmel! You’re awake!” You gasped, softly shutting the door before taking quick steps to his bedside. You wore the best subtle German accent you could, trying to be authentic. “You gave all the nurses here quite the scare, Soldat.”

Richtofen laughed weakly, reaching out to you with his shaky hand. You took it quickly, sitting down on the edge, rubbing his calloused hands with your delicate fingers. “How long have I been out?” He asked.

“A few days, ten to be exact.”

His eyes went wide from your admission. “Zehn? That’s not exactly a few, is it?” A smile twitched on his lips. At least through it all he still had high spirits.

You chuckle lightly yourself, shaking your head. “Nein, I suppose not… you had some nasty shrapnel from battle, passed out from blood loss.” His eyes trailed from yours to his bandaged stomach quiet as he thought about your words. You felt empathy for him. You squeezed his hand in a soothing manner. “Don’t worry, nothing too serious, the worst was your fractured leg which is healing just fine.”

He gave you a weak but appreciative smile. A sigh escaped from his lips as he looked at the curtained window. “Is it wrong to say I’m glad I got injured?” He inquired.

“I don’t think so, you’ve been a brav Soldat… you deserve a break.” You answered.

His eyes came back to you, a sheepish look cascading his features. “I was talking more about getting such a schön nurse, Fraulein.”

Your face erupted in red, a small smile finding your lips as you looked away. It wasn’t the first time a patient has hit on you, you should’ve gotten used to it by now, and for the most part you were. But having such a handsome soldier say such things made your heart flutter.

“Flattery won’t persuade me to up your meds, Herr Richtofen” you joked, trying to shrug off the compliment.

He gave you a lopsided grin from your words. “So you’re flattered, miss…?” He trailed off, unsure of your own name. You told him, and he tasted it on his tongue, you couldn’t deny it sounded good on his lips. “I should be the one flattered, you know my name.” His smile still played on his face.

“I read your dog tags to create your chart, Herr Richtofen.” You said bluntly, hardly entertaining his games.

“As much as my last name sounds wunderbar on your lips, I’d much prefer if you’d call me Edward.”

You bit your lip, rolling your eyes as you considered his request. “Okay, Edward.” You confirmed, “aber only because you’ve been through hell.”

“Nein, Schatz. War ist war, und Hell ist Hell. War is far worse.” He sighed, eyes glazing over as his memory dragged him back to those godforsaken trenches.

You frowned, recognizing that look, you’ve seen it on too many young men’s faces. You let go of his hand to stand, walking over to the other side of the room where a small table stood. On the table was a pitcher of water and a single glass. You poured a generous amount, and brought it back to the hospital bed.

“Here, I can imagine you have cotton mouth, drink, bitte…” you told him more than asked, bringing the glass to his lips. He strained to lift his head, greedily chugging down the water.

When he pulled away, he gave a few small gasps for air, breathing heavily as he smiled. “Dankeschön, Liebling,” he cooed, resting his head back against the pillow.

Edward tried to shift in bed, it was a failed effort only resulting in a pained moan escaping his lips. You sat the glass down quickly and grabbed his hand again to soothe.

“Gott…. Mein thigh, it feel so stiff und achy.” He complained, looking down to the injured leg.

You clicked your tongue in displeasure. “Ja, I can imagine. Being immobile with a splint for almost two weeks doesn’t feel too gut on the muscles.” You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek as you thought. An idea soon popped in your mind. “I’ll massage the muscle, ja? Perhaps it can bring you some comfort.”

Richtofen nodded eagerly, doing the best he could to scoot over for you to have room to sit. You sat down right at his knee line, careful not to hit the splint. Your hands gingerly found his thigh, kneading and digging into the skin with your thumbs.

“Ah, gently, schatz…” he groaned, feeling the soreness.

His muscles had serious knots in them, it felt like marbles under the skin. Poor man, it couldn’t have felt any type of good walking with them. Even when he asked for a more gentle touch, you didn’t give it to him, knowing firm hands were the only way to get them out. His moans of pain soon turned into sighs of relief, you visibly saw him relax.

“Are you feeling any better Herr Richtofen -, ah… Edward?” You corrected yourself, still working the muscles.

“Ja,” Edward breathed, eyes closed. “Aber… I still feel some tension, just a little higher.”

You trailed your hands higher, about mid thigh, and dug into the muscle. His groans of enjoyment filled the room, his head rolling to the side to watch your deft fingers work their magic. Wanting to get all of the knots out, you reached higher to his upper thigh, mere inches from his groin.

His breathing got heavier the more you worked the muscles, he didn’t dare utter a word, he just watched, eyes wide almost in anticipation. You were so focused on your task, you didn’t notice anything until he let out a low moan.

“Herr Richtofen? Are you ok-? Oh .”

Edward’s bulge was evident even concealed by the sweep of his tunic. It was hard against his thigh - the thigh you were massaging. Your eyes grew wide, hands reeling away as you stood up.

“Es tut mir leid…” you trailed off, your face red from embarrassment.

“I haven’t experienced a woman's soft touch for too long, surely you don’t blame my reaction,” he smiled, eyes lidded from desire. “Especially the touch of such a gorgeous fraulein.”

His breathing was still labored, his erection strained against the fabric. He looked at you with pleading eyes, eyes that begged for you to touch him. Butterflies erupted in your stomach from nerves and a twinge of arousal. You took a deep breath, sitting back down.

“How long?” You ask, voice low.

He bit his lip, eyes lighting up that you didn’t immediately turn him down. “I’ve spent two awful years in those trenches, if that paints a picture.” His need was obvious. A handsome man in need of a woman… “Would you take care of me, Frauchen?” He asked, almost in a whisper.

You felt that familiar arousal between your legs. Your eyes trailed down his chest to his bulge as you wrestled with the idea. Your resolve crumbled as you placed your hand on his thigh.

“Anything for the morale of the German army.” You teased.

Your hands moved to the button of his trousers, you were careful not to graze his erection, you enjoyed how he held his breath in anticipation for it. The button popped open with ease, his boxers were the only thing keeping you from the prize. You lightly caress down his happy trail, to the waistband of the garment.

“Mh, bitte, don’t tease,” Edward pleaded. His breath caught in his throat when you slipped two fingers under the band, just barely grazing the base.

“Sorry, Soldat, I can’t help it.” You wink at him. You grab his shaft tightly, pulling it out of his boxers. It stood proudly, tip red and needy with small twitches here and there. You bit your lip at the size, eyes growing wide. “Mein Gott… you’re… so big…” you say with a shuttered breath. It twitched again from your words.

“Vielen Dank,” Edward’s eyes were lidded, lips pulled up in a smile from the stroke of his ego. The way you continued to stare at it only made him more and more turned on. “ You make me feel like I’ve already won this war.”

You gave his shaft a slow pump, testing the waters. He bucked up in your hand, a low groan escaping his lips, as well as pleas for more. You became more confident, stroking him at a faster pace.

“Verdammt, you have magical fingers…” Richtofen groaned, squirming from the pleasure. He began to leak precum so you trailed your hand up, rubbing the tip with your thumb in quick, tight circles. A string of curses fell from his pretty lips.

“How does that feel?” You purred, giving quick shallow strokes while still thumbing the head.

“Like Heaven.” Was all he could muster.

You gripped the base of his shaft with your other hand, working every inch with determination, even throwing in a few twists of your wrist to make him squirm. He was a panting mass, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he thrusted into your hands.

“Ja… ja, I’ve needed this, Gott, I’ve needed this.” He said like a prayer. The tip of his throbbing cock was now a darker red, precum leaked freely as you focused on the twitching shaft with one hand and the needy head with the other, jerking it fast.

“How much are you going to cum for me, Herr Richtofen?” You asked while keeping up your ministrations.

“So much… so, so much. I’m going to explode und get mein cum all over those filthy little hands of yours.” Edward hissed out his answer.

“Mh, is that so? I don’t want to be disappointed…” You reveled in the fact he was putty in your hands. You could tease him all day long and you knew he would love it.

“Jawohl, Frauchen. Mein balls are so heavy und full… und it’s all for you. Milk me, bitte. Milk me for all that I have.” Richtofen pleaded almost completely out of breath. “Schnell, schneller!”

You held his cock tightly with both hands, pumping up and down as quick as you could. His moans got higher and whinier as he got closer to his release, his dick twitched like crazy and his balls tightened as he took a deep breath in, grunting primally as thick spurts of cum shot from his cock.

He bucked into your hand while you still continued to work him. His moans tumbled out unabashedly as he came all over your hands as promised. The cum was an excellent lube for your fingers to keep working him, milking him just as he asked. You continued to run quick circles on the underside of his tip until his hips started spasming, cries of overstimulation racking his chest. You slowed down, pumping the base slowly for a few more moments before slowing down to stop that as well.

Edward laid there, each muscle twitching on their own accord. His cock laid on his thigh, still pulsing while it softened. He wore a drunk grin on his face, certainly still coming down from cloud nine. You wiped off your hands with a handkerchief while gazing at him.

“I hope that was well enough, Soldat.” You said, bringing a hand to caress his chest, watching as loving eyes stared at you. His hand found your cheek to cradle it tenderly.

“I told you to call me Edward.” He teased, hands dropping to hold your own.

“Nein, I shouldn’t… what if I am to get attached?” You inquire. “You will soon return to war und forget me.”

“I could never forget my most doting Nurse.” Edward said, squeezing your hand just as you did his when he first woke up. “Bitte, call me Edward. If you call me Edward I promise to find you und marry you once the war is done.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprising. Why, he hardly knew you. He barely met you today and he was already talking about marriage. You knew army men moved fast but you didn’t realize just how fast. “Und what if I do call you E- your first name… und you die in this war?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “With a fraulein like you waiting for me? There’s no way im Teufel I’m letting those damn Tommies ruin this for me.”

You laughed, looking away with a blush on your cheeks. You hardly knew this man, but something inside you said to take the opportunity and run, that good looks and a great cock weren't the only things he had going for himself. You looked back into his hopeful eyes and smiled, nodding your head.

“Okay, Edward. I accept. But after the war if you don’t come back to me, I will hunt you down.” You threatened, glaring into his eyes before a smile cracked through.

“Und I wouldn’t have it any other way. Kiss mich.” He whispered. You complied happily, melting into his shaky yet gentle touch.

He scooted over more to let you lay down with him, wanting to hold you close for as long as he could before having to return to war in the coming weeks. It was an unconventional love blossoming, but you were never conventional.

“Ach, meine Liebe, could you take this splint off? Mein knee is starting to hurt from over-extension.” Edward groaned, sitting up. He smiled at you as he began taking off his bandages while you worked on the splint. “What did you use for the blood? Looks quite realistic.” He inspected the red bandages as he removed them.

You began unbuckling the many leather belts of the splint, he audibly sighed once he was able to bend his knee. “White corn syrup, red food colouring, and a tad bit of water.” You grinned, proud of the blood. He ran his finger in the fake blood that was still spread on his stomach, plopping it in his mouth.

“Lecker, although I think the real stuff tastes better.”

You laugh at him shaking your head. You finally got the splint fully off and so began working on getting your uniform off, Edward followed suit.

“Thank you for doing this for me, Eddie.” You say in a small voice.

“What kind of husband would I be if I were to deny you of your sinful pleasures?” He murmured against your ear. “Besides, I’ve always looked damn gut in a German uniform, only wore them a handful of times while in France.��

“You definitely should wear it more often.” You tell him, closing the gap between you once more.

“If you keep doing that sexy faux German accent, I just might.”

“Jawohl, Herr Richtofen.” You purr.

Edward pounced on you, your back now against the bed with his chest pressing against yours, his sexual appetite still unsatisfied. You had a long night ahead of you, a long night in the arms of your German soldier.

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#cod zombies #call of duty zombies #call of duty #edward richtofen #reader insert #female reader #x reader #fanfic #smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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neochan · 3 years ago

Text

GENRE | smut, idolverse!

WARNINGS | smut

WC | 2.6k +

A.N | this is a repost of my older work. i hope you enjoy it <3

You could still hear the unintelligible screaming of thousands of fans as the boys filtered off the stage and into the greenroom. Another successful concert in the long string of tour stops. You couldn’t even remember what state you were in because the days of traveling, unpacking, setting up, and doing it all again the next day ran together.

The boys were dripping sweat, immediately grabbing bottles of water and towels to wipe themselves off. They had worked harder than normal today since during one of the sets the microphone cut out and they had to perform acapella. Someone was getting fired for that.

Taeyong flopped onto the leather couch dominating the center of the room, water in one hand, phone in the other. “People are already uploading photos.” He outstretches his arm so the others could view the pictures pulled up on his screen.

“Johnny you look ridiculous,” you point out, laughing as a fan had caught Johnny in the act of wildly waving his light stick.

“I was having a good time, okay?” He chuckles and walks into the dressing rooms to change out of his stage outfit. Half of the group filtered out to change and half stayed to peruse through the gifts left by venue staff and play on their phones until told otherwise.

You were wondering where Hyuck was when you heard his voice from the hallway. He saunters in and gives you a kiss on the cheek, “Enjoy the show?” His golden skin was tainted pink, hair matted to his forehead by the sweat that was trickling down the side of his face. He grabbed his shirt and lifted it to swipe at his face, revealing his cute tummy. You had to resist the urge to poke it.

“I enjoyed hearing thousands of pretty fans scream your name” You give him a smirk knowing that he hates when you downplay your relationship.

He nudges you with his shoulder, “You know I meant the songs,” his doe eyes look into yours, his long lashes brushing against his cheek when he blinked “Besides, you know I love you and only you.”

Mark began to nervously giggle in the corner while Doyoung made fake gagging noises from the vanity he sat at. “Oh, shut up.” You say, throwing empty water bottles at the two, “And hurry up I wanna go swimming before it gets too late.”

The ride home was peaceful once the swarms of fans cleared a path for the bus. Per the managers request you slouched down in your seat so know one could see you through the window. It didn’t make much sense because the windows were tinted, but Haechan had to argue for his life to allow them to let you tag along on the tour, so you didn’t question them. Once you were on the road, you sat back up and snuggled close to Haechans side. He rested his hand on your thigh, absentmindedly stroking you with his thumb. His head leaned back against the seat, eyes closed, listening to music. It was so loud you could almost make out the words but you didn’t say anything – you let him stay in his post concert utopia for the whole trip.

The hotel was about an hour away from the venue so that no one would find them, and they’d be closer to their next destination. It was nicer than the others because it actually had a pool. You and Haechan made an agreement to go swimming after the concert, and you couldn’t wait. The staff also rented more rooms, so instead of four people to a bed, it was just you and Haechan.

After checking in everyone filtered off to their rooms leaving the both of you to freely do whatever you wanted - within reason of course. You both got changed, your gaze admiring the hard lines of Haechans back. “Don’t stare.” He blushed, wrapping a towel around his upper body.

You pulled on your bikini which made Haechan go silent. You specifically picked this one because it brought out your skin tone well, and cupped your features beautifully. “Now who’s staring?”

It never failed. The butterfly feeling you got in the pit of your stomach when Haechan watched you with loving eyes. You wrapped a towel around your waist, allowing Haechans eyes to roam the tops of your breasts, peeking out from the almost too small bathing suit.

His cheeks turned pink once he noticed he was caught, “Let’s go”.

The hallways were quiet since it was almost midnight, so you wordlessly made your way down the stairs and out into the night air. It had grown considerably cooler than when guys first arrived that morning, but the sky made up for it. Pretty stars pricked the vast expanse of dark blue and black infinity. You could see the moon peaking out from behind a single cloud, casting a shadowed glow on Haechans honey skin.

The gate was closed when you walked up to it so you stopped to read, “Aw man, the pool closed an hour ago,” You set your lips in a pout, “no wonder the lights weren’t on.”

“Hey it’s okay, no lights, no cameras, they probably wont even notice we’re here if we keep quiet.” He moves closer to you, eyebrows raised expectant for an answer.

You hesitated wondering if you really could pull it off, after all you’d been looking forward to this for the whole day, “I don’t wanna get in trouble..”

“You said you wanted to swim and I’m going to make sure that happens,” He gets down on one knee, “step on my leg, I'm gonna help you jump the fence.”

He boots you over, and grabs your arms to help lower you on the other side, but his hand slips and his nails dig into your shoulder. “Ow, fuck.” You wince rubbing the spot he scratched.

“Sorry, sorry” He says giggling, jumping the fence with such quietness and ease that it looked unreal. “Come on, dare you to do a canon ball!?”

He ran ahead throwing his towel on one of the pool chairs and jumping in the water. You cringe away from the loud slap his body hitting the water made. You walk slowly to the chair, deeply inhaling the addictive chlorine scent.

He finally stands up waist deep in the water and pushes his hair back. The blue water reflected against him, making his skin sparkle. “Come into the water y/n” he splashed some water into your general direction, but not enough to touch you.

“Okay, Okay.” You drop the towel and slip into the water. It was cold. Really cold. You gasp and recoil away, but not fast enough, because Haechan has wrapped his arms around you and started carrying you towards the deep end. You struggle a bit in his grip but his arms provide an iron cage that you can’t get out of. “Haechan let me go!”

He presses a warm kiss to the back on your neck but doesn’t comply with your wishes, instead making a curve and bringing you towards the underwater benches. He fixes his hold on you so that now he’s carrying you bridal style. You stare up at him, water droplets falling off his chin. His eyes were already red from the chlorine and you hoped that it cleared up by tomorrow nights concert. His plush lips sat in a pout, strong jaw set. He was so very pretty; and all yours. You smiled to yourself, deciding to keep that image locked away in your memory forever.

Once he gets to the benches he sets you down and glides in beside you. “You know It’s colder than I thought it was going to be.” He lifts a hand and sheepishly rubs the back of heck, “and you look way hotter in that bikini than I thought you would.”

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a dig or a compliment.” You scoot closer to him so that your thighs were pressed against each other. Finding his hand underwater, you intertwine your fingers with his own.

“A compliment babe.” He chuckles and slouches in the water so that only his head sat above it. You both sit there for a moment until it becomes too cold to sit still.

“Well I’m going to put it to use and go swim.” You push off from the cement and paddle around. The only way to stay slightly warm was to keep moving. Haechan watched you, eyes crinkled in a smile, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It was fun to watch you play in the water but the bathing suit was making him think of other things you two could be doing.

And that was how it stayed. Haechan watching while you performed for him.

A while had passed, the calm exterior of the pool getting to you, making you drowsy. The cold blue water washed over your hands while you gently skimmed the surface, making your way over to where Haechan was. You hummed a short tune under your breath, trying to keep yourself distracted. it was close to one in the morning now, but Haechan still sat on the bench, slightly shivering from the brisk air, hands gripping his thighs under the water while his mind wandered far away from the present.

“Watcha thinkin’ about” you ask, moving closer to him, hoping to catch some lingering body warmth.

“Fucking you ,” he moved off the seat and dove under the surface, only leaving small ripples in his wake. You stand there for a second wonder how he could be so blunt, so forward in his desires; he was never like this.

He swam a single circle around your body before popping up in front of you, giving you a mini heart attack. He pushes you back against the tiled walls, “I’ve spent the last hour thinking about fucking you. Thinking about how pretty you’d sound.” His head dips down to kiss along your collarbone, and your hands grab the back of neck, holding him there while his tongue sucked bruises into your tender skin. His hands grazed the bare skin of your arms, giving you goosebumps.

He moaned into the side of your neck, biting and sucking away, wanting you to yearn for him like he did for you. He lifted his head so that his mouth hung over yours, his small puffs of breath fanning over your face while he tests the waters. “Can I kiss you?”

Without giving him an answer you pull him closer by the roots of his hair. His kissing was messy and sweet, and while your tongues moved together, his hips began rubbing circles against you, trying to gain some friction in the cool water. Small heavy breaths were the only sound you could hear, aside from the occasional splash as Haechan moved restlessly.

Your hand wandered down his chest and below the surface to where you could feel him straining against his shorts. You began to stroke him over the fabric, his hips pushing against your touch. He broke the kiss to watch as you peeled down the elastic from his hips, his cock freed from the restricting material of his swim shorts. You watched him twitch slightly as the cold water met his length.

“You can’t make any noise.” You place a single finger against his lips.

“No promises.” He whispers, a devilish smirk breaking way on his face. His hands caress you thighs, pushing your bottoms to the side. The cold water hit you, making you gasp and push into Haechan who just whimpers against your touch.

He tried to stay quiet, only soft grunts between gritted teeth and muffled moans as his hips pushed into your own. The water created resistance but it just enhanced how good he was feeling. He hurriedly grabs at your legs, pulling them up so that they sat around his waist. Your back dragged up the tiled walls, scraping your tender skin, but you could only focus on Haechans cock thrusting deeply in and out of you. He stared longingly into your eyes, filling you up completely, wanting to savor the way they fluttered in the back of your head.

“You love the way I fill you up huh?” He groans into your ear, a hand falling forward to grip the cement ledge of the pool.

You couldn’t respond without fear of moaning so you nod your head wildly. He began to bite and suck at your collarbone, pushing you closer to the edge. Looking down he sees your nipples, erect, poking through the wet fabric of your bathing suit. His eyes grow wide, hips stuttering into you. Fuck you were hot.

“Haechannie, I think I’m going to come.” You squeezed your eyes shut trying to focus on the feeling coiling in your stomach.

“Not yet.” He growls, hands moving to pin your wrists against the cement ledge, “Hold it princess, I know you can.” The water began to slosh around faster as Haechan thrusted harder into you. The sound was so loud its no wonder you didn’t hear the keys jangling against the hip of the guard making his way towards you two.

“Hey!,” he shouts running towards you, “The pool is closed! Get out! Are you two-” He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as you and Haechan spring up out of fear and take off. It was easy to push yourself up onto the pool deck. The guard made the mistake of following you two and leaving the gate unattended. You and Haechan ran out, giggling, making your way back into the hotel. You didn’t stop until you got into the room and slammed the door behind you.

With your heart hammering in your chest you lean against the dark cherry wood . “Holy fuck we could’ve gotten in serious trouble.” You gasp out, clutching a hand against your wet bathing suit top.

“Babe we’ll be gone by morning, no one is gonna know.” Haechan paces in front of you trying to catch his breath. His shorts hung dangerously low on his hips, it was miracle he got them up in time.

“We’re so banned from this hotel.” A knock on the door makes you jump away from it, the worst of punishment's filling your mind. What were they going to do? They couldn’t arrest you, could they?

Haechan walks forward and turns the knob slowly, revealing a sleepy Doyoung. His oversized t-shirt hung off one shoulder showing off his gaunt collarbone. He was rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What do you want Doie?” you ask softly.

“How was getting chased by the guard?” he gives a sleepy chuckle, still half in his dreams.

“How did you-,” A look of realization hits Haechan, “You reported us?” He whined, pushing Doyoungs bare shoulder so that he stumbled back.

“Sound travels over water dumbasses and you guys were loud, I was trying to sleep!” Protesting, he pushes Haechans wet shoulder back.

“Well, now we’re going to be twice as loud.” Haechan slams the door in Doyoungs face and grabs you, throwing you on the bed. You give a squeal, and hear Doyoungs fist hit the door.

“I swear I’ll make a noise complaint.” He sounded more irritated than sleepy now.

“Go ahead, you’re just mad I’m getting laid and you aren't.” You playfully slap Haechans arm, but he nips at your hand. The other side of the door grows silent, Doyoung either going to report you two, or going back to his room defeated.

“Shall we pick up where we left off princess?”

#nct smut #haechan smut #nct haechan smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct drabble #nct fic #nct scenario #hyuck smut #doyoung

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spiderlilyserendipity · 3 years ago

Text

Practical Skills

Summary: In the world of the wealthy, Kim Namjoon is like a gentleman among piranhas. You’re an heiress desperate to make your marriage date unsuccessful. What happens when you say something the gentleman is not supposed to hear? Part 4 of the No TIme for Love oneshot series.

Genres: smut, fluff

Tags: CEO! Namjoon, rich girl! OC, brat!OC, Dom!Namjoon, sub!OC, consent!!!!!, colour system, small argument, hand kink (OC’s), sir kink, Namjoon’s duality ruining my life, aftercare

Warnings: small age gap, OC is 23, joon is 26, unprotected sex (be safe IRL), light breath play

WC: 3689 (3.7k)

When your parents tell you the newest man they have found for you, you have a good laugh about it. His name is Kim Namjoon, the renowned author and CEO of a famous publishing company. You have heard great things about the man, his reputation even filtering into your college’s rich-kid circle. He’s from a family of professors, a successful gentleman known for his soft spoken nature in the piranha pool that is the chaebol world.

It’s funny to you not because you have anything against the guy, it’s just a funny pair. Ever since you reached “marriageable age” to your parents last year, they have been on your case to try to find a suitable bachelor for you. Of course, marriage in the chaebol world is the equivalent of a business deal. You’re not interested in marriage to start with, but that kind of marriage is one you would never agree to. So here you are, a piranha in training, about to go on a date with a best selling writer known for his romantic philosophies on life.

You already know this date is going to be fun. (Fun for you, of course — your parents will be pulling their hair out later when nothing comes out of it).

In true romantic fashion, Kim Namjoon messages you before the date asking if you would like to stop by a bookstore. You think it’s sweet of him to put in effort for a date both of you know is only for long-term monetary gain.

So to respect Kim Namjoon’s romantic personality (and also because you’ve heard the man is a real treat for the eyes), you decide to play the sweet girl role today. You dress yourself up pretty, in a pink dress with a modest skirt and cutesy accessories, and put your hair in an elegant half-up half-down look.

And from the blush on Kim Namjoon’s face when you meet him, it works like a charm.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Y/L/N. Thank you for making time today.” Namjoon says kindly, shaking your hand. The rumours are all true when they say Kim Namjoon is a real work of art. His hair is pitch black, styled back. He’s tall, he’s polite, and he has a beautiful set of dimples that show when he smiles at you.

But for you, a red flag goes up in your head at the way he’s looking at you. Like he’s taking this whole situation seriously.

You know it will be work getting him off your back, since he’s probably a romantic and all that. But as much of a playgirl as you are, you don’t like to hurt people’s feelings. So instead of trying to annoy him away, you decide to try a new method: emphasizing how much you two wouldn’t work. That should clear any romanticism lingering in his head about this arrangement nicely. You think, praying on this plan to work.

You follow Namjoon inside the bookstore you agreed to meet up at. This place is popular for college age couples, a two-level shop where students can study with a cafe, too. Somehow you think Namjoon did it intentionally due to the 3-year age gap between the two of you.

Namjoon guides you upstairs to a table near a window, giving a nice view of the street below.

“Should we try the food here?” You ask Namjoon sweetly, mostly to buy yourself some time. Namjoon nods, picking up a copy of the menu.

“So I hear you’re attending a very prestigious college, Miss Y/L/N.” Namjoon nervously tries to break the ice.

You smile tightly. As expected, Kim Namjoon has done his research on you. He won’t buy the dumb act like other men do. “Ah, yes. Actually… I must be honest with you. I’m a little unsure about getting married right now since I’m graduating this year.”

Namjoon puts his menu down, his full attention on you. “We don’t need to rush anything at all, Miss Y/L/N. We can take as long as you like to get to know each other. Same thing for if we choose to go forward with marriage, too. Both of my parents are professors, so I totally agree about focusing on education first.”

You fake a laugh. Oh, he’s persistent. “Don’t you think I’m a bit young for you? I mean, it is a three year age gap.” You lie.

Namjoon considers what you’re saying. “Is it uncomfortable for you? Personally I’m okay with it. Like I said, we can always take things slowly and have open discussions about what we like, there’s no rush to figure it all out on the first date.”

You smile and nod, hating how everything he says makes so much sense. You can’t find a single thing to poke a hole in, much less weasel your way out of this situation. But you’ll surely try.

You raise your hand to catch the attention of a waitress. You order a slice of chocolate cake and a cup of tea, and Namjoon orders a cup of coffee and a pastry. You ask Namjoon about his job at the publishing company, buying yourself time to think of a way to make him hate you.

Your eyes slide down to Namjoon’s lips, appreciating how pretty they are. You wish this date was like all the others you have been on, where you could go home with this handsome stranger and call it a night. You watch Namjoon’s hands move through the air as he explains his job, his long and slender fingers decorated with rings and a gold watch on one wrist. He’s steady and mature, and so your mind unintentionally slips away to the things you could do with him if he was just a little… rougher.

Your eyes trail back to his lips, and then up to his eyes. You startle at the sight. Namjoon’s eyes are now narrowed, darker than before. He noticed you looking at his hands. You swallow dryly at the way his tongue creates a small bulge on the inside of his check. “S-Sorry, did you ask me something?” You fluster, accidentally knocking the fork out of your plate. You hiss as chocolate icing smears the front of your new dress.

You grab napkins from the dispenser on the table, trying to dab at them.

“Here, you can borrow mine.” Namjoon stands up, reaching over to pass you the handkerchief from his suit pocket. But the effect is the opposite, since Namjoon accidentally knocks over your cup of tea, too. “Oh no, I’m so sorry!” Namjoon exclaims, getting out of his seat.

You sigh, standing up from the table. “It’s okay, I’ll just fix it in the bathroom.” You tell him, grabbing your phone and walking off before Namjoon can say anything.

You frown as you try to clean the stains with a mere paper towel, not achieving anything. As you’re frustratedly cleaning, your phone rings. It’s a call from your best friend, who knows the renowned Kim Namjoon’s reputation as well as you do.

“Hey,” You answer the phone on speaker since no one else is in the bathroom but you.

“How’s the date going?” Your best friend asks immediately. You sigh as the tea stain and chocolate icing now smear together to make a bigger stain.

You quit cleaning, and decide to wash your hands instead. “He’s actually really nice, but you know how I feel about marriages for wealth. Not to mention, he’s kind of clumsy. He seems like the type to not have any practical skills, you know? Like, he needs a wife to do everything for him. Maybe that’s why he wants to get married so badly, you never know with men and their intentions.”

“Ouch, that’s mean.” Your best friend laughs on the other end.

You laugh with her, grabbing paper towels to wipe your hands. “Yeah, well that’s the truth. But he is hot though, so depending on how the rest of the date goes—”

You bump into someone just outside the door. bumping into someone as you go to put your mirror away. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” You say instantly, looking up.

It’s Namjoon. From the unimpressed look on his face, he heard everything. You feel yourself go pale. “Y/N? What happened?” Your best friend asks.

“I-I’ll call you back.” You say, and hang up quickly. Namjoon looks down at you.

“I’m going to assume our date is over then?” Namjoon asks curtly.

You flush, feeling guilty. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to say—”

“You didn’t mean for me to hear it.” Namjoon corrects you, his patience clearly maxed.

You bite your lip, about to apologize again when a small group of friends come around the corner. Namjoon turns away from you, leaving the small hall. You follow him quietly to the table. You notice the waitress is already waiting there, likely having been called over by Namjoon.

“It’s fine, I can pay.” You say quietly, feeling awful for hurting a nice man’s feelings with your cynicalness. Namjoon ignores you, pulling out his wallet and paying. He looks straight at the waitress and smiles, saying thank you, but doesn’t spare you a second glance.

You’ve never been one to chase a man, but you know when to set your pride aside. You follow Namjoon out of the bookstore and down the flight of steps in front of the building. “Namjoon, please wait--” Your voice is cut off by a cry of pain when you roll your ankle.

An arm wraps around your waist, catching you from falling down the last five or so steps. You look up at Namjoon, grateful but he is still angry, his jaw clenched when he looks at you. “You know,” He whispers. “I was trying to be a gentleman today, but you’re really pushing me.”

You bite your lip and his eyes follow the movement. “Please let me make it up to you.”

Namjoon inhales sharply. “Careful what you ask for, Y/N. I don’t think a girl like you can handle me.”

You chuckle, truly amused at that. You raise an eyebrow at him. “Wanna bet?”

Namjoon’s dark eyes leave you for a split second, pulling you aside when people come out the doors behind you. He takes your hand in his large one, pulling you along like this is something he has always done. You realize where he’s leading you, to the parking lot. “Do you know the colour system?”

You’re shocked. You thought for sure Namjoon was the romantic, wait-till-marriage vanilla sex type. Namjoon chuckles. “Do you?” He asks again.

“Green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop.” You say in awe. Then, you glance around. “Did you bring a car?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I had my driver drop me off. But I assume you did, so you can drive.” He smirks, no longer entertaining your bratty act. You can’t lie, the change in attitude is exactly what you’re looking for. If Kim Namjoon was a daydream as a gentleman, he’s a wet dream when he talks like this.

You unlock your car, and Namjoon walks around to the passenger side. When you start the car, Namjoon pulls up the navigation on his phone and puts his address in. You’re utterly shocked at his demands when he holds his phone up to you with a grin. “Let’s go, babe.” He says, a hint of the sweet gentleman returning. But there’s nothing sweet at all about the way his hand comes to hold your exposed thigh as you drive.

You’re really in for it this time.

🖤🖤🖤

Namjoon is a better liar than you expected. He’s all polite when you get out of the car, maintaining a nice distance between the two of you on the walk to the elevator. He bows hello to passing by neighbours and effortlessly dodges the questioning looks about who you are. But once it’s just the two of you in the elevator, he pulls you close again, one hand on your waist. “My title is sir, and yours is baby. How do you feel about punishments?” He asks you, fingers tracing circles on the small of your back.

You shiver. “I-I like punishments.”

Namjoon chuckles. “I had a feeling, but I thought I should check.”

Namjoon brings you inside the luxury apartment with surprisingly less haste than you imagined. He guides you to the living room, full of windows overlooking the city. His apartment is up high, but it’s not the view that takes your breath away. You watch with bated breath as Namjoon takes his suit jacket off and rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. “Colour.” Namjoon checks again, eyes sultry.

“Green, sir.”

Namjoon pulls you in faster than you expected, the two of you crashing down onto the sofa. He kisses with no hesitation, all tongue and passion that takes your breath away. You can’t even think about trying to dominate this kiss, he’s got you right where he wants you — beneath him. You dig your hands into his hair to make up for not being able to control the kiss, still feeling bratty. Namjoon gets back at you for it by bunching your dress up to your hips and firmly pinning your hips down.

You moan into his mouth, irritated that you can’t grind into him.

Namjoon breaks away from the kiss, sitting up to take his tie off. Namjoon laughs when he catches you eyeing it. “What? Want to get tied up?” Namjoon mocks you, making you blush. He cups your face, a dangerous glint in his eye. “I’ve got different plans for you, brat.”

You gasp as he picks you up into his arms with ease, and you scramble to hold onto him. Your legs wrap around his middle and you wrap your arms around his neck, getting wetter by the second.

Namjoon brings you down the hall into his bedroom, setting you down in the middle of a king-sized bed. He pulls up a chair in front of the bed, making you confused. He sits with his legs spread, looking indifferent. “Touch yourself. If you do a good job, maybe you’ll get my hands on you.”

You whimper at his hot gaze on your spread legs, and the wet patch on your panties. As much as you want to beg him, apologize and ask for a chance to be his good girl, you’re still feeling bratty. You know this is a game you’re bound to lose, but you try anyway.

You sit up on the bed, slowly taking your dress off. You set it aside, and then take your bra off. Namjoon looks amused to see your nipples are already hard, but you take it in stride. You start playing with your breasts, rolling your nipples between your fingers. You stare unashamedly at Namjoon’s hands in his lap, wishing they were his instead.

But when Namjoon’s expression doesn’t change, you start to get desperate.

You whimper. “Sir.”

“What’s that? You need me to do everything for you?” Namjoon mocks.

You pout, making Namjoon come closer. You move your panties to the side, revealing your wet clit. Namjoon looks down at it, his hand hovering close to your hole. You want him to fuck you so badly, but instead, Namjoon just smacks your pussy instead. You whine, making Namjoon smirk. “You didn’t think I was gonna help, did you? You said it yourself, Y/N, I don’t have any ‘practical skills.��”

You bite your lip, silently begging for him to let it go. Namjoon puts his thumb on your bottom lip, making you release it. He runs his thumb over your lip a few times, assessing you. “But if you beg really nicely, I might reconsider.” When you don’t say anything, Namjoon sits back again. “Finger yourself. Stop when I tell you.”

“Yes, sir.” You answer, lifting your hand to your mouth to suck on the digits. Namjoon’s jaw tightens again. You lower your fingers to your hole, inserting two fingers at once. You’re wet enough that they slide in and out with ease.

You pick up speed, already close to coming. “Slow down.” Namjoon orders sharply. You listen, but only with a pout. “Play with your nipples.” He says, and you do. The slow movements drive you insane, making your legs feel weak. You close your eyes, imagining the fingers inside you are Namjoon’s, his big hands touching you everywhere.

You gasp when you feel Namjoon’s real hands come to rest on your waist. They hold you, not tightly but as a firm reminder. His thumbs stroke at your ribcage, sending goosebumps down your abdomen. “Good girl, so obedient.” Namjoon praises in your ear, making you shudder. “Doesn’t that feel good? You like being put in your place, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“N-No, sir.” You retort, but both of you know it’s a lie.

Namjoon withdraws his hands. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, annoyed. “Go faster.” He orders.

You obey, spreading your legs and pumping in and out of yourself. You grind down on the bed, wishing it was Namjoon instead.

Your breathing becomes uneven as your orgasm approaches. Namjoon smacks your ass, forcing you to stop. “Take your fingers out. I want to see how wet you are.” You pout at the order, but do as you’re told. You spread your folds, showing him the glistening interior of your pussy. Your hole is dripping with pre-come, spilling down onto the bed with need.

“S-Sir, I want your fingers. Please, please.” You beg.

Namjoon laughs. “Cute.” He comes closer, planting his hands on your knees. “But I can’t help you, baby. I don’t have any ‘practical skills’, remember?”

“I’m sorry.” You say, so worked up that tears well up in your eyes.

Namjoon stops when he notices the tears in your eyes. “Colour, baby.” He whispers, cupping your face.

You lean into his touch. “Y-Yellow.” You whimper.

Namjoon pulls you into his arms instantly. “What do you need, baby? How do you want me to look after you?” He asks, rubbing your back reassuringly. You sniffle, burying your head in his neck.

“I need your touch, please. Wanna be good.” You cry, emotional from how deep you have sunken into sub space. Sure, like any brat you like being put in your place. But you don’t want your dom to ignore you, you want to be taken care of, too.

Namjoon presses a kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay, baby. I’m not upset. Want me to make you feel good?” He asks, massaging your sides. You nod, holding him tight.

You allow him to lay you down against the pillows, giving you a firm but less dominating kiss. You cup his face, grinding up against him. You moan when you feel his clothed member against your pussy, the material rough against your clit.

Namjoon makes quick work of taking off his clothes, soon as naked as you. You rub your hands up and down his wide back greedily, loving the way his muscles tighten under your touch. You let out small moans as Namjoon kisses along your neck, sliding two fingers inside you at the same time. Namjoon’s fingers stretch you in a way your own could never, making you feel full. “Hh, so big.” You moan, making Namjoon laugh against your skin.

“So greedy, baby.” He comments, fucking his fingers into you harder. When he thinks you’re ready, Namjoon pulls out. You sigh in peace when he aligns his large cock to your entrance. You are grateful for the preparation, but even with how wet you are, it takes a moment for Namjoon to bottom out.

“P-Please move, sir.” You beg, and Namjoon listens. You cry out, tipping your head back in pleasure. Namjoon’s hands find your hips, digging in hard enough that you know you’ll have bruises tomorrow. You want that, you want it all so badly.

Namjoon wraps one arm around your waist, lifting you slightly off the bed as he fucks into you. You moan as his other hand comes to your neck, fingers pressing in just enough to make you lightheaded. You bring both of your hands on top of his, holding them against your neck.

“Who do you belong to?” Namjoon asks, his hips starting to stutter after a few minutes.

“You, you! Ahh, please, sir!”

Namjoon pushes the whole way into you, rubbing your clit expertly to make you come. You come so hard your thighs tremble, but Namjoon is right there to catch you. “Namjoon…” You whisper, breathless from coming.

“I know, baby. You did so good for me.” He praises, kissing you everywhere. You sink into his touch, feeling like you’re floating. “Good girl.”

🖤🖤🖤

You bite your lip. “About the stuff I said earlier, are we cool about that?” You ask Namjoon.

He stops towelling his hair, looking over at you. You blush at his eyes on your body, focusing on wiping the water off so you can get dressed. “Of course.” Namjoon says, giving you an honest smile. Namjoon had helped you shower and peppered you with many kisses after the scene was over. Happy from the care but wanting to do something on your own, you try to dress yourself. Namjoon notices you fumbling with your panties, thighs still shaky as you try to put them on. He gently takes them from you and helps you put them on. Then, he turns you around, helping clasp your bra.

You lean in against his back, savouring his strong arms around you. “I admit I was harsh on you when you were being really sweet, that’s why I had to ask. I go on a lot of these marriage dates, you know.” You tell him.

Namjoon nods, kissing your temple. “Me too.”

You’re surprised at that. You thought Namjoon was the romantic type that would absolutely reject marriage dates. “Really? Why?” You ask, craning your head to look at him.

Namjoon smiles slyly. “To sharpen my ‘practical skills.’”

You scoff, making Namjoon laugh hard and kiss you again.

#bts fics #bts x reader #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #namjoon smut #bts smut

343 notes · View notes

miekasa · 4 years ago

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six thirty

+ pairing: armin arlert x (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: college au, enemies to lovers… kinda… in a very nerdy academic rivalry kind of way, me being a comedian you’re welcome, fluff, smut/nsfw content

+ word count: 5.6k… pls say sike

+ notes: shout out to ryn for listening to me during our very many rambling sessions and also for extorting me into posting this. consider it a late birthday present for my favorite menace </2

+ side notes: no i am not a part of armin nation and i never want to be, nor do i wish speak of this again.

Armin Arlert is the perfect student. Prompt and well prepared during lecture; smart and insightful during office hours; the apple of any teacher’s eye. Unfortunately for him, so are you.

If you asked Armin, you were a little too clever for your own good, and liked to make it very well known that you believe you’re the smartest person in any room you walk into. That may be true, but it doesn’t mean that he has to sit there and worship your superiority complex.

If someone asked you, you’d say that Armin was a know it all, and a manipulative little piece of shit. Again, not a completely false statement, but perhaps a slightly biased character analysis.

Neither of you are wrong. It’s why you’re both the bane of each other’s existence.

There’s a noticeable grimace on your face, chin in your palm, elbows resting atop your desk, as you turn your head to where, sure enough, Armin is seated where he always is: first row, right side, directly in front of the podium, like perfect little teacher’s pet he wants to be. He doesn’t have any books to unpack like everybody else because a shiny, blue iPad is propped up on his desk in place of all of that. He’s robably looking through his pre-written list of showboaty questions to ask during lecture. Like he’s a cut above everyone else.

Maybe some of the other morons in this course, but not you, that’s for damn sure. You bet that if you broke his thousand dollar tablet he wouldn’t think he’s such hot shit anymore. Maybe that would knock him down a couple of pegs.

“Look at him sitting there with his stupid blue eyes, and his stupid Bieber haircut, and his stupid, shiny blonde hair, and his stupid fucking glasses. I bet they’re not even real and he just wears them to—”

“Did you just call his hair shiny?”

You snap your head to your left, “What—no, of course not. I said shoddy, he’s probably a bottle blonde. Maybe all the chemicals from the hair dye seeps into his head and warps his sense of reality.”

“I’m pretty sure you said shiny.”

“Shut up, Annie.”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “You got something against blondes? Because your track record would beg to differ.”

“Once. We kissed once, and it was truth or dare, and we were both sloshed.”

“You still chose me,” she reminds you, pulling her notebook out of her backpack.

You huff, ignoring her words and turning your head back to Armin, this time finding him twirling his stupid fucking expensive Apple Pencil between his fingers like it’s nothing. You can feel your eye begin to twitch.

Perhaps he can, too—or maybe he can just feel your eyes boring holes into him—because he turns in your direction and ceases his pen twirling the moment you make eye-contact. More students filter in, walking past your line of vision, but each time they move, you and Armin meet gazes again; neither one of you daring to look away, a palpable tension between you.

His eyes might be icy blue, but you can see the rose pink tint underneath his skin, even from the distance; a familiar blush that spreads across his nose and cheeks. You exhale with a silent laugh, breaking your eye contact before he grows completely red, just in time for Dr. Zöe to start the lecture.

Everybody thinks that Armin’s so brilliant, so smart, so untouchable. You know that his only genius is that he’s fooling everyone into thinking that he’s the kind, humble, little nerd boy who wouldn’t harm a fly, when that’s far from the truth.

Armin is mean. He’s competitive and possessive and snarky and sly. He’s the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you’re pretty sure the only person in the world who might believe that is Eren. Though, you’ve heard some of the insults Armin throws Eren’s way, and they’re not exactly soft. Granted, that’s a factor in any friendship, and most of his jabs are coated with a layer of intellect the brunette likely doesn’t understand, but that doesn’t make Armin any less sarcastic. It just means Eren’s too dumb to know what’s going on.

Poor kid. Maybe it’s for the best.

That’s all to say that Armin is nothing but a big talker—not even; a smooth-talker, is more like it. He comes across as perfect, all good and sweet and soft, because that’s what he lets people see. Nobody else looks through to the sharp tongue and ragged edges, because they’re too busy cooing over innocent blue-eyed baby in front of them.

But you know that Armin, the one he doesn’t want other people to see: the one that’s so good, he’s bad; so sweet that he’s sick; so nice that it’s cruel. And you know just how much pressure to apply to make his façade crack.

And you intend on doing so.

“I don’t know which formula to use—hey, are you two eye fucking again? Cut it out, I’m trying not to fail over here,” Eren exclaims, poking Armin’s shoulder with his pen.

The jab averts the blonde’s attention back to his friend, eyes wide as he blinks himself back to reality. He curses under his breath when he feels a familiar warmth creeping across his cheeks. Few things piss Armin off like the way he gets red in the face after thinking about you, or even just looking at you, for too long. Whether it’s red out of pure annoyance, or another feeling he tries to push down, it’s irritating, and above all, embarrassing.

He spares one more glance over his shoulder, to where you and Annie are sat a few tables away in the library. You’ve looked away by now, focusing back on your notes, but Armin swears he can still see that irritating smirk on your face from this angle.

He rolls his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He should be able to keep it together around you by now, but he can’t, and it bothers him. You bother him.

“We weren’t eye fucking,” he refutes, turning his back to you completely, “She’s such a little know it all sometimes, s’annoying.”

Eren raises an eyebrow. He knows that you and Armin don’t get along, but he doesn’t understand why. Armin knows almost all your friends, and you definitely know all of his—Eren would even go as far as to say that you and him are pretty close friends—so it’s not a matter of not spending time together. You’re also the two smartest people Eren knows. In theory you should have more than enough to talk about together, but every time you’re in the same room, you hardly acknowledge each other outside of surface level commentary, or glances that border on staring.

Thankfully, the bickering remains in the classroom for the most part. Eren’s seen you and Armin go at, and he’ll be the first to admit that it’s beyond intimidating. Though, a little part of him finds it oddly entertaining, and he can’t help but to be impressed. All the more reason for you two to start playing on the same team.

Eren thinks the two of you should get to the root of the issue already. Which, if you asked him, has very little to do with your rivaled academic genius, and a lot to do with your lack of it concerning your feelings for each other.

“She’s not that bad,” Eren vouches for you, “I think you two might get along if you ever spoke outside of trying to one-up each other in class.”

“I’m not trying to one-up anybody,” Armin rolls his eyes, a nasty habit he’s picked up as of late, “And if you stopped and used your brain for a moment, then maybe you could solve the problem.”

“I did use my brain!” Eren’s lips fall into an offended pout, “But none of this makes any sense to me! I fucking hate math, you know that.”

Armin sighs, feeling sympathetic for Eren as he slumps into himself defeatedly. He knows that Eren isn’t dumb, but math in any capacity is certainly not his strong suit. He also knows that he shouldn’t give Eren all the answers, but sometimes he needs a little push to get him there. A little bit of added guidance and motivation to keep him going. It’s either that, or he has to trick Eren into doing the work himself, but clearly that method wasn’t working out today.

“You already solved for the activation energy, now you’re supposed to use the Arrhenius equation in the expanded form.”

Eren’s lips fall into a small o-shape, as his eyes scramble across his paper again. “But—how do you—”

“There’s two measurements given for temperature.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah! Okay, right, but then—”

“You have to convert it to Kelvin first or it won’t work. It’s given to you in Celsius.”

Eren furrows his eyebrows together, and then it finally clicks for him. He mutters to himself as he puts his pencil to paper to begin to work through the problem, “How do I convert—”

“Add 273.15 to it. Make sure you put the bigger one first in the equation, or else you’ll get a negative error.”

“You didn’t even do it,” Eren huffs, angrily punching numbers into his calculator, “How do you know it’s right?”

“Because I took this class already,” Armin reminds him, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder, “Isn’t that why I’m tutoring you?”

Eren coughs over his embarrassed blush, “Oh, yeah, right.”

It’s quiet between them as Eren makes a final attempt at solving the equation, carefully and proudly circling his answer when he’s finished. He looks to Armin with bright eyes, and is content when the blonde gives him a reassuring nod, confirming that his answer is correct.

“Well that was a bitch to work through,” Eren sighs, stretching his arms behind his head with a slight yawn, “Chemistry is nothing but glorified math. It’s barely a science.”

Armin shrugs, but he doesn’t disagree. He isn’t the biggest fan of chemistry, unlike somebody else he knows. “Why’d you take chem if you knew it would have so much math?”

It’s Eren’s turn to shrug, slumping back in his chair and running a hand through his hair, “I gotta take all the pre-med requirements… just in case.”

“You wanna go to med school? Since when?”

Eren averts his eyes from his friend, a telltale sign of his bashfulness coming over him. It doesn’t happen often, but Armin knows it’s sincere when it does.

“Dunno. I’m not sure of it, just wanna keep my options open, you know?” Eren replies casually, “Doctors help make a difference and all that, and surgery looks kind of cool. Besides, if my bastard father could do it, how hard could it really be?”

A gentle smile grows on Armin’s lips, “You can do it. If you really want to, I know you can.”

Eren’s head snaps up, eyes wide and filled with affirmation and adoration. He relaxes his expression quickly after, but the pink hues are still present, “Thanks, Min.”

From his position he catches eye of another head of familiar blonde hair over Armin’s shoulder, and beside it, your own hair. There’s a flash of a moment when your eyes meet Eren’s, and you offer him a small wave before turning back to Annie to resume doing your homework. Eren barely gets the chance to wave back, but a dopey smile sits on his features at your kind gesture. It fades when he looks back to Armin, once again pondering the animosity between you two.

You and Armin aren’t all that different, you just need to get to know each other better. Actually, Eren thinks that you might make a good couple if you both stopped overthinking it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and (_____)?” Eren asks, bending his right knee to wrap his arm around his leg and rest his chin on top of it, “You act like she kicked your cat.”

“What?” Armin questions, flustered, “What—no, she wouldn’t touch Soup.”

Eren quirks an eyebrow at that. “I still can’t believe you named your cat Soup.”

“It’s technically a nickname.”

“A nickname for what?”

“…For Miso Soup.”

Eren blinks. “Okay, if she didn’t mess with Soup, then what’s the issue? You scared of her or something?”

“Why would I be scared of her?” Armin asks, tone incredulous; then softer, more subdued, like a kid who doesn’t want to admit they’re wrong, “’M not scared of her.”

“You stare at her like you are—well, you look kind of angry, but also scared. Like, when you see those balloon things outside of car washes. You hate them, but you can’t look away from them—”

“I am not scared of those!”

“You are, and it’s okay,” Eren waves away his friend’s denial, “Oh, I get it—is this one of those things where she makes you nervous, so you respond with anger and sarcasm instead of thinking through your feelings?”

“You’ve been going to therapy for one month, relax.”

“Maybe you two should go to friend therapy and work this out,” Eren bites back, “It probably doesn’t help that she’s always with Annie. They both look like they would murder someone with no remorse. I admit, it is kind of scary… but it’s kind of hot, too.”

Armin spares him an unamused glare. Eren crosses his arms in defense, “What? I’m not wrong. It’s sexy in a scary kind of way, maybe that’s why you’re always eye fucking. I don’t blame you, she’s hot. I would let her and Annie axe-murder me without regret.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and do problem six, I don’t have all day.”

Eren huffs, but flips the page to the next problem, grumbling under his breath as he attempts the, “It’s not as sexy when you’re mean, you know.”

Armin hits him silent.

Tuesdays are Armin’s favorite days because he only has one class. Sure, it’s three hours long, but it’s much more bearable than his usual eight-hour day.

It’s also the one class he shares with you. Which is why he’s always mentally exhausted by the end of it, but physically, he feels like he could punch a wall; all his pent up anger and frustration is channeled into his body and he’s desperate for an outlet for it. It’s a feeling he hates to love.

Annie seems to have cut class today seeing as she’s not next to you; and it’s almost as if it’s emboldened you to mess with him even more than usual.

He bites his tongue as Dr. Zöe enthusiastically uses your latest point as a segue into the final topic of the evening. He made that same point ten minutes ago. You just worded it differently—admittedly, more concisely, but somehow with a little more nuance, than when he had hesitantly proposed it—and, yeah, maybe you made it sound more convincing, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t come up with it first. If his stupid, fancy stylus didn’t cost upwards of $200 he might have snapped it in half.

You’re definitely the better conversationalist, that much he can admit. Words have never been his forte and he hates the way you can talk circles around him, and that there’s so little he can say to make you stop.

He wishes you would just shut up. In fact, he’d like to shut you up himself.

Thankfully, class ends sooner rather than later. Armin finds himself briefly talking with Dr. Zöe afterwards, most other students having taken the opportunity to leave early for the night. To nobody’s surprise, you’re not one of them, having stuck around to talk to the professor, too.

“The two of you should consider lab research this summer,” Dr. Zöe suggests ardently, walking between the two of you as you exit the lecture hall, “I could really use two students like you!”

Armin chuckles at his boisterous professor. He��s known about the research opportunities at their lab for quite some time now, and he knows that you have, too. “I don’t know that lab work is really my strong suit.”

The three of you come to stop at the hallway intersection, the professor now standing across from you and him. You give them a polite smile, “And I’m not sure that collaboration is mine.”

Armin spares a glance just in time to see you flash one of your own in his direction. Dr. Zöe’s eyes flicker between the two students rapidly, a slight squint to their eyelids.

They aren’t quite sure why their two brightest students seem to despise each other. They wish you two would just get along already, so that they don’t have to spend the summer training half-witted chemical engineering majors how to use basic lab equipment; and instead, conduct some actual research.

“Well, I hope the both of you reconsider,” they smile, “I’ll see you during office hours, I presume?”

You two nod in sync, sending the doctor off with happy smile, just long enough until you see that they’ve turned the corner further down the hall

“Had fun stealing my point earlier?” Armin questions, looking your way as you still wave mindlessly, eye-twitching at your polite façade.

“I would call it improvement,” you tell him, not bothering to turn in his direction; still and smiling waving like the professor can see or hear you, “You should stick to showing, rather than saying. You never were good with your words.”

Armin kisses his teeth together. He’ll give you what you want, if that’s how you want it.

In a fit of irritation, he grabs your moving hand by the wrist, and pulls you down the opposite hallway, not caring for your dramatic wailing behind him.

“Hey, Einstein, the exit is the other way, do you have any idea where we’re going?”

“Ever heard of observational learning? Maybe if you shut up for a second, you would figure it out,” he snaps, pulling you further.

There’s a door on the left that Armin knows is unlocked, and he’s quick to open it and pull you inside. Before you have the chance to glance around, he has you pushed up against the wall, jaw forced up and forward.

He could scoff at the small hitch in your breath at his actions, clearly a little too satisfied with being manhandled; but instead, he takes the opportunity to press your lips together. Armin quite likes the feeling of your lips on his; warm and soft and far too welcoming; a rare moment of silence.

“Someone could hear us.”

Or not so silent.

“Then be quiet,” he snarls.

Armin feels your fingers weave themselves into his hair, scraping along his undercut in sync with his lips trailing down your jaw. A groan falls from his when he feels you tug at the ends of the strands, just hard enough to force his face back to eye level with yours.

“You’re the one with the big mouth.”

“You’re so smart, huh. Always got something to say,” Armin lets out a low chuckle, deft fingers running down your sides to squeeze at your waist, “You can be really fuckin’ annoying, you know that.”

You mirror half of his ministrations, letting your right hand trail down his chest barely brushing over the very visible bulge in his jeans, before hooking your index finger under the belt loop, effectively pulling him closer to you.

The smile on your face is dirty, but you’re not laughing like he was, “Do something about it then.”

His blue eyes grow cloudy as he takes a good look at you; slowly rakes over your features, from that stupid, snarky look in your eyes, to your kiss-bruised lips, down to your chest, and back up again. Armin finds himself copying your smirk for all the wrong reasons. But it’s your own fault; you always did like to push him one step over the edge.

“Fine.”

Despite your twisted grin there’s a look in your eyes that’s eager; willing; ready for the taking. That same look you have when you talk over him in class; when you pretend to ignore him around your mutual friends; when you want him to fuck you stupid.

Armin uses his right hand to cup your jaw again, closing the distance between your mouths with a less than gentle kiss. He feels your groans reverberating through his body, waves of heat accompanying them and going straight to his erection. Your arch your back into the kiss, but he forces you backwards, left hand flat against your tummy.

Following suit, he pushes himself against your body, pressing his knee between your legs; the thin fabric of your stockings doing little to prevent your thighs from rubbing against him.

He swipes his tongue over the seam of your lips, earning a frenzied whine when glides his tongue across yours, and teasingly licks at the roof of your mouth. Your tongue is lithe against his, but somehow just as deceptive and sly as always, and Armin would be a fool to deny that he loved it.

There’s a spark flickering in his stomach when you push your center harshly against his; and it’s only ignited further when he feels you bite his bottom lip. A guttural growl escapes him, his right hand moving to your throat with practiced ease, pushing the back of your head into the wall.

He pauses for a moment, drinks in your wide eyes and desperate visage, “You are the single most frustrating person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

And he couldn’t get enough of it if he tried. He couldn’t get enough of you.

You must see through his words, into the grainy expression of adoration in his eyes, because he can see it filtering into yours, pupils dilating with both want and care.

“Aw, baby, I love you, too,” you pout, leaning forward as best to can to peck him on the lips, “Now, shut me up and fuck me. It’s exhausting being this pretty and smart-mouthed, you know.”

Armin dips his head into your neck, squeezes against the column of your throat with warning until he hears a gasp escape from your lips. He presses gentle kisses into your skin, in stark contrast to the increasing pressure from his fingers, waiting for one last request, and then, finally—“Please.”

He smiles, loosens his grip for a moment, just long enough to hear your pretty panting, before slotting his lips against yours again. Your moans are lewd and sloppy and breathless between kisses, and it makes his dick twitch in his pants. You really are so fucking loud. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He uses his free hand to push your skirt up, and subsequently dip past the weak barrier of your tights and underwear. The slightest flicker of his fingers against your center has you choking out a moan, and Armin is forced to press his right thumb harder against your neck.

“Quiet,” he reminds you, “You asked nicely, so I’ll give you what you want. No need to be loud about it.”

He watches you nod with short and restricted movements, a sadistic kind of power washing over him at your eager compliance. He uses his middle finger to rub slow, careful circles around your clit; the feeling of your wet cunt against his fingers, coupled with your wanton moaning only spurs on the throbbing in his pants.

“Armin,” you whine, impatiently; but he expected that of you, “Don’t tease.”

His eyes flash to yours briefly, pressing his lips to yours again to swallow your shuddered moans. He dips his tongue into your mouth at the same time he does his middle finger into your cunt. An obscene moan echoing through the classroom, as Armin feels your body arching into his again; feels your fingers frantically flying to his hair, searching for purchase to anchor yourself on.

He pulls away in time to add another digit and watch you groan underneath him. He pushes both his fingers in to the knuckle, carefully curling them upwards to elicit the prettiest sound out of you. He has to admit, it’s probably his favorite thing to hear come out of your mouth.

He keeps a steady pace, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy with perfect friction, teetering between letting you moan his name and choking you silent. Your hands are frantic in his hair, grasping and pulling and so, so, desperate, Armin can’t help but to finger fuck you harder.

“You want one more?” he questions, but his voice is taunting, words ghosted over your lips just out of reach for you to kiss.

He can feel your leg trembling against his, see you pupils shaking along with your shaking head. Armin stops to smile; he thought you might do that. He could probably make you cry right now if he wanted to. Maybe later.

“Want you to fuck me,” your words short and ragged, eyebrows raised when he uses his thumb to press lightly against your clit, “Armin, please.”

The blonde shakes his head, “You’re dumber than you look if you think I’m gonna fuck you in a classroom, baby, so if you want to cum now, you better tell me.”

You have the audacity to pout of all things, “You’re mean.”

Armin lets out a breathless laugh. “You like it,” he leans forward to peck you sweetly, “So, what’ll it be?”

“Fine, but I want head later, too,” you tell him, words becoming less firm when Armin teases his ring finger against your slit, “Please.”

Armin hums in compliance, leaning forward to kiss you again, this time with more tact, and he chases your whines when he finally pushes a third finger inside of you.

“Look at you,” he croons breaking your kiss and forcing your head back again, “You take it so well.”

“Ah—fuck, there, Armin—there,” you cry, wet heat squeezing around his fingers in intermittent spasms.

Armin watches your chest heave with desperate breaths, air stuttering to pass from your lips to your lungs with his hand around your neck. He can feel your walls constricting around his fingers, feel your body shaking underneath him when he increases his pace. He curls his fingers again, just right, just until he hears you sing a strained call of his name. And when he feels your nails scraping down the nape of his neck, and the slight weight of your body convulsing, Armin knows you’re done for.

He’s nice enough to fuck you through your orgasm, shallow thrusts of his fingers bringing you to and down from your high as he watches you pant for him. He presses small kisses against your throat, up, up, up, until he’s kissing you, and carefully pulling his fingers out.

He removes his hand from your neck, and slides it down your waist to offer you support. He’s not prepared for your sudden pull on his neck, forcing him into a kiss that conveys your content; he’s quick to raise his left hand, palm meeting the wall to hold himself up against your sporadic actions, chuckling lightly into your kiss. You were always so reckless and happy after an orgasm.

You kiss him like you have him wrapped your finger despite being the one pleading moments ago. You do, so he supposes it’s not unwarranted; and he welcomes your flirtatious kisses despite the annoying blush they always bring forth.

And sure enough, he can feel his face on fire when you pull away. Armin scoffs internally at himself; he really should be able to keep it together around you by now. But when you kiss him like that, you kind of make it hard to think straight.

“You’re so good when you’re not… pretending to be good,” you hum, a blissful, hazy look on your features as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Armin shakes his head with a chortle of disbelief; leans forward to kiss you again, “’M not pretending. I am good.”

“Yeah, you’re such a good little saint that arguing with your girlfriend turns you on,” you taunt him, “It’s okay, Armin, you can admit it.”

He groans, out of shallow annoyance this time, and it makes you giggle. “Why are you acting like you’re not complicit in this?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” you refute with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, “You get turned on by hearing me talk about biochemistry. I like it when you tell me to shut up about it. We are not the same.”

“Yeah, because you look hot doing it,” he tells you, “Speaking of which, Eren called you hot today, so I kind of need you to slip a neurotoxin in his Gatorade.”

“Aw, Eren thinks I’m hot? Tell him I think he’s hot, too,” you bat your eyelashes at him, but Armin only offers you an unimpressed glare in return.

“I think he might be onto us, actually,” Armin notes, affectionately bumping his nose against yours.

“If he’s onto us, then it’s because you’re the one giving it away, not me.”

“Oh, because you could never do anything wrong, right?”

“Right,” you flash him an overconfident smile before reaching up to kiss to the tip of his nose, “See you’re so smart, baby.”

Armin shakes his head again in disbelief. You’re a handful, he can see that much.

“Come on,” he prompts, “We should go, I still have to finish my lab write up, and I know you haven’t started your paper.”

Armin tries to motion you forward, but is stopped when he feels your hand combing through his hair, and sees the genuine spark of concern in your eyes. “The one for your elective? I thought you said you were going to finish it on Monday.”

“I was,” Armin admits, “But then I didn’t.”

“You want me to help you with it?” you offer kindly, pushing his bangs back and letting your hands fall down the sides of his face, palms resting against his ears.

He nods gently, turning his head to press a kiss into your left palm, before wrapping his hand around your wrist, “I can help you outline your paper.”

You nod in return, and Armin spares one more kiss, before pulling your hand away to lace your fingers together.

Thankfully, nobody’s around to catch you exiting the classroom, or see you holding hands as you make your way out of the building and towards the bus stop. This was Armin’s favorite part of any Tuesday; the one time he could hold your hand on campus without the fear of getting caught by your friends.

He reasons that you guys should probably tell them soon, though, especially if Eren might have an idea of what’s going on. You were bound to get caught sooner rather than later. That, or Eren and Sasha would start meddling.

“If you think Eren knows, then Mikasa definitely knows,” you note, swinging your intertwined hands as you walk through the parking lot as a shortcut.

“Maybe if you actually remembered to hide Soup’s toys, there would be less evidence for her to piece together.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you didn’t forget when your midterms are, I wouldn’t have to emergency cat sit the hour before Mikasa comes around, and there wouldn’t be any toys to hide in the first place.”

“I’m bad with dates, you know that!” Armin pouts, “I don’t say anything when you forget about ten page papers until four hours before they’re due.”

“You’re saying something right now, actually.”

“That’s not what I—you know, you’re so—”

Armin’s quiet when he feels your lips pressed against his cheekily, “Annoying. I know. You like it. You’re not very good at staying mad for very long.”

Armin’s tempted to roll his eyes yet again—he really needs to quit it, or at the very least, get your own temper under control before it’s irreversible and completely rubbed off on him—but takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead, instead.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your eyes twinkle under his affections. “And that you love me?”

He nods, “And that I love you.”

“And that you’re gonna fuck me before you make me write my paper when we get home, right?”

Armin chuckles and presses another kiss to your forehead, “We’ll see about that one.”

Hange huffs as they make their way through the parking. They always forget their keys in their office, and always, inconveniently park half-way across the campus. In their defense, this parking lot is free, and the one closest to the Medical Sciences building is not. So, really, capitalism is the one to blame for their frequent late night car lot strolls.

They hear two familiar voices bickering just as they’re about to step into their car, and are more than surprised to see their two favorite students walking together. Walking together and holding hands. Wait—you and Armin are walking together and holding hands?

Hange blinks for a moment, drowning out the sounds of the conversation after they see you two kiss. Their jaw practically falls to the asphalt and they might not blink for a full two minutes as they process what they just saw.

Their trance is broken when it finally, finally clicks together, and Hange has to try their hardest to contain their squeals before sitting in the driver’s seat, an overly forceful slam to the car door following. They waste no time fumbling with the pockets of their lab coat to fish out their phone, and make a call to their favorite math professor.

“Levi, I told you Arlert and (_____) had to know each other outside of class! I think they might be dating! You know what this means, right? I can have them both in the same lab without worrying they might start a chemical fire, and I won’t have to hire two brick heads this summer!”

Levi has never hung up a call more quickly in his life.

#aot x reader #snk x reader #armin x reader #aot imagines #snk imagines #armin smut #armin fluff #eren x reader

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edwardskhakipants · 3 years ago

Text

Forks, Washington. August 2004.

Esme and Carlisle stood in the middle of their grand living room, waiting for their five vampire children to arrive. Alice arrived first—prompt as usual. She settled herself gracefully onto the tufted sofa Esme had recently acquired, only to be immediately jostled by Emmett who heaved himself onto the cushions. A breath caught in Esme’s throat—she had lost many pieces from her beloved collection by that action—but it looked like this one was still in one piece. For the moment. Jasper took Edward’s normal spot in the only armchair, forcing Edward to wedge himself between Alice and Emmett.

“What?” Rosalie grumbled as she perched on the armrest of the couch beside Emmett, “Are we having another one of those How to Respect the Telepath in Your Life meetings again?”

“No,” Edward answered, fully aware of the intent of this meeting since it hatched in Carlisle's mind two days prior. “But there’s never a bad time to bring that up. Christ, Emmett, if you’re going to have a song stuck in your head for over seventy-two hours, the least you can do is learn the correct lyrics.”

Emmett’s eyebrows knit together, asking his brother a silent question.

“It’s ‘mulatto, an albino, a mosquito, my libido,’” Edward answered.

Emmett’s brow furrowed doubtfully.

“No.” Edward shook his head, answering Emmett’s thoughts. “Why would he eat a beetle?”

Emmett grinned playfully and tilted his head towards Edward.

Edward wasn’t amused. “You know what it means.”

A silly grin plastered on his face, Emmett elbowed Edward in the ribs, silently egging him on.

Edward’s eyes darted to Carlisle, then Esme, and he shifted in his seat. “Sexual desire,” he muttered.

Emmett howled with laughter and clapped his hands once, “Wow, Eddie! You’re just going to say that in front of Esme!?” Edward scowled as Emmett’s bouts of laughter echoed through the room.

Esme ran a hand through her youngest’s ginger hair. “Boys,” she warned, and Emmett sucked in his laughter.

“Our meeting today has to do with all of you,” Carlisle began.

“We simply wanted to go over the rules of attending school with you kids before you start your second year at Forks High School,” Esme explained, unfolding and re-folding her hands in front of her. “There are already whispers, and we don’t want those whispers to turn into rumors.”

“I thought the only whispers about us at school were whether or not Edward liked girls,” Rosalie said, earning an eye-roll from Edward.

“No,” Alice chirped,” Some kids think we’re a cult.”

Jasper leaned back heavily in his chair. “We haven’t heard that one since the Seventies.”

“Kids are getting more creative these days.” Emmett nodded appreciatively.

Esme held up one, delicate finger. “Which is why it is best to take preventative action.”

Carlisle took the floor. “We thought a few reminders would be helpful before you started your first day of your second year,” Carlisle said. “We don’t want another incident like the one we had at the end of last year.”

Every head in the room turned towards Emmett.

“What?” Emmett threw up his hands in exasperation, “The water gun fight was the senior prank—I wasn’t the one who brought them to the school. Hell, I wasn’t even the only student who got suspended!”

“That’s true,” Carlisle agreed, “but you were the only student to shout, ‘Sit down, kids! Daddy’s gotta tinkle,’ and shoot the stream of the gun from your crotch.”

Jasper snickered—the sound was immediately silenced by a single raised eyebrow from Esme.

“I still don’t see the problem,” Emmett continued, “That’s not necessarily a vampire thing.”

Edward—who often mistook himself as the third vampire parent rather than the youngest son—sighed, “Yes, but it brings unnecessary attention to the family. Which is the first rule: do not bring attention to yourself.”

Esme ran her fingers through her son’s hair once more, “Yes, darling, you are especially good at keeping to yourself.” Edward’s eyes widened, despite Esme’s gentle touch, already aware of where her point was headed. “So much so, that I have been given the names of several child therapists to help my son through his depression. One was recommended for his exceptional work on spotting and treating the early signs of sociopathic behavior.”

Esme grabbed her son’s chin and forced him to look at her. “You have to talk to other people.”

Knocked off his high horse, Edward flinched back from Esme’s hand. “Friendship with humans never bodes well for us.”

“We’re not asking you to create lifelong friendships with humans,” Carlisle clarified, “We are simply asking you to be likable.”

“A nearly impossible feat for Edward.” Rosalie grinned. The comment went unnoticed, save Edward’s slight flinch. But the quick, little tick was satisfying enough for Rose.

“Look at your father,” Esme gestured towards Carlisle, “At every hospital he works at, he goes out of his way to ensure he is well-liked among his colleagues. He forces down countless lunches and coffees, solely to make sure they’re comfortable around him.”

Carlisle took over. “And your mother, a beloved member of her gardening club and a prized member of the PTA.”

“And neither of us have rumors started about us, and do you know why?”

All five teenagers grumbled the ingrained response. “Humans don’t want to spread rumors about people they like.”

“Exactly.” Esme nodded.

“I try!” Alice whined, “But Edward never lets me talk to any humans.”

“That’s because every, single thing that is about to come out of your mouth is incriminating. You might as well walk around with a neon sign that says, ‘I’m a psychic vampire’.”

Alice scoffed, “Is not!”

“You wanted to tell Nihal Howard not to audition for the musical.”

“And he broke his leg on opening night,” Alice challenged.

“You were going to tell Christiana Ward that pink was not her color.”

“And she lost prom queen to Ashley Kirby.”

Jasper put a comforting hand on his wife’s knee. “Maybe try not to meddle so much, darlin’. Natural relationships, first.”

“They would have been!” Alice wailed, “I would have played it cool and casual and made friends and you all would have seen it! But everyone’s hurt and I have no friends at all because Edward won’t let me try!”

Edward rolled his eyes.

Carlisle suppressed a heavy sigh. “You have to let your sister try, Edward.”

Edward’s mouth fell open. “You cannot seriously be siding with her on this!”

But Carlisle stood his ground. He and Edward stared at one another for a few seconds, engaged in a silent conversation. In the end, Carlisle tilted his chin and Edward slumped back. Victorious, Alice used both pointer fingers to jab Edward in the side several dozen times at vampire speed.

Rosalie flipped her golden locks over her shoulder. “I don’t know how you all struggle so much. I have no issues with becoming well-liked at school while remaining inconspicuous.”

“Oh yeah, you’re so inconspicuous,” Edward grumbled, now extra-petty that he had been called out two times in one meeting. “You dress like you're on your way to brunch at your second husband’s country club in Beverly Hills and you make out with your foster brother. The perfect picture of discretion in Forks High School.”

“At least I don’t dress like a sad, old man.” Rosalie grimaced, disappointed in her comeback. The light, humorous insults that were required in family situations were Emmett’s forte; Rosalie’s insults were meant to emotionally cripple a person.

Edward sat up in his seat on the couch and turned to face Rosalie. “I think you missed the main takeaway in that you make out with your foster brother.” Edward turned back. “I can read your minds, and I still don’t understand what made either of you think it was okay to bring your relationship to school?!”

Emmett smiled, unperturbed. “It’s hot.”

“It’s disturbing,” Edward disagreed.

Esme frowned, “You kids don’t really do that, do you?”

“Would it help if Jasper and I became an official couple too?” Alice suggested. Jasper perked up at the idea of being able to hold hands with Alice in public again.

“No!” Edward yelled at the same time Emmett and Rosalie muttered their acquiesce.

“It wouldn’t seem as weird if there were two couples,” Emmett agreed.

Edward dug his fingers through his hair. “Oh my god!”

“...maybe not, kids,” Esme intervened, but was ultimately ignored.

“So should we come out today like it happened over the summer, or make a little show out of it?” Alice asked Rosalie.

Rosalie waved a hand in the air. “Oh, it’s way more fun if you play up the theatrics.”

“A little more realistic, too,” Emmett agreed.

Alice looked to Jasper for his opinion. “It might be better if we were discreet about it,” she said. “Like we knew it was wrong, but we wouldn’t let anything stand in the way of our love.”

Jasper scooted forward to the edge of his seat. “Or we could let it be quiet and drawn out. Let others see our mutual pining, and root for us to be together.”

Gazing deep into the golden eyes of her soulmate, Alice sighed, “I love that.”

“If people wanted us to get together, it would normalize Emmett and Rosalie’s relationship.”

“Or Rosalie and Emmett could stop,” Edward suggested, bitterly. “That would be normal, too.”

“Oh, Edward,” Alice patted his shoulder, “You’ll find love someday, too.”

“That is not at all what bothers me about the situation.”

Carlisle made the decision for everyone. “Rosalie and Emmett, break up at school. Alice and Jasper, remain friends and siblings.”

Disappointment filtered into the room through Jasper.

“I heard that,” Edward grumbled at someone’s thoughts.

“You were supposed to,” Rosalie shot back.

“We are also initiating a new rule,” Esme brought the room back to the conversation at hand, “No more correcting your teachers.”

A chorus of complaints rang from the couch.

Esme clicked her tongue, “I’m tired of defending you all from entirely preventable issues. I have emails from curious teachers wondering why my foster daughter is taking French 101, when she already appears to be fluent.” Esme looked at Rosalie, who immediately tucked her bottom lip between her teeth. “Or why my son, at the tender age of sixteen, could not only deadlift three hundred pounds in his first weightlifting class, but also give his coach tips on improving his posture.”

Emmett glanced over at Edward before he realized Esme was, in fact, addressing him. “What!?”

Jasper snorted. The sound was a mistake, for it brought Esme’s wrath onto him. “And not to mention the emails from not one, not two, but three teachers warning me that my foster son has an intimate understanding of the mechanics of a point fifty-eight caliber rifle-musket.” Esme held out her hands, almost pleadingly, “How does that subject keep coming up, Jasper?”

A noncommittal grunt was the only answer Jasper had for that question.

“No more,” she commanded. “You can get good grades but keep your extra knowledge on any subject to yourself. Whatever your teacher teaches is all you know. Understand?”

“But what if we—” Edward started.

“Understand?” Esme repeated.

The five teenage vampires understood, even if they didn’t want to.

“I believe that all five of you will graduate from Forks High School!” Esme cheered.

The kids stared back, unable to muster the zeal Esme had over the prospect.

“Meeting adjourned!” Carlisle announced, and faster than fast vampire speed, the kids bolted from their seats.

Esme was able to get in a few more reminders as her children flitted around the house and filed out to the silver Volvo. “Remember to buy lunch with cash and not your credit cards. Emmett, please do not joke about being mauled by a bear. Do not address your teachers by their first names—I don’t care if you’re older than they are, Edward. Alice, please wear something a bit more causal, pet.”

When the house was finally empty, Carlisle pulled Esme backwards into his chest and began massaging her temples. The gesture wasn’t needed, but any touch from her husband was always welcome.

“Do you think they’ll listen?” she asked her husband.

“Not a chance.”

#this bad boy had been swimming around in my head for awhile #please enjoy #my other fics havent been cullen centric enough for me lately #so i had to do something #twilight fic #twilight fan fiction #and thank you to the editing queen edwardsmate4ever for beta'ing for me #youre a queen

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glcdss · 3 years ago

Text

| Whatever you want (That’s what you’ll get).

cal kestis / han solo

CONTAINS: fluff, angst, (consensual) implied sexual content, horrible attempts at flirting, han being han™, han having Issues™, cal being so done 💅, skysolo angst™, cal being a good bro™, gays being gays ‼️‼️

AU: sometime post ROTJ, han's looking for a distraction. cal's more than happy to give him one.

fic title is a lyric from “whatever you want” by sports

it was pretty damn impressive.

cal, being off the grid after the empire fell, got ahold of easy pickings around the outer rim, carefully avoiding whatever the inferno squad had going on. not that he minded.

though, those 'easy pickings' landed him in a dingy bar on takodana.

not that he was complaining. years of hiding on bracca were pretty handy in a pinch.

"you come here often?” a husky voice filtered through cal’s ears, snapping him out of the staring showdown he was having with a couple of trandoshan not too far away from the table he sat at near the back of the bar to the rebellion general himself, han solo, who leaned across the tabletop - giving a shit-eating grin. cal tried his best to hide a smile.

but, that familiar fondly exasperated smile played on cal’s lips, “you really using that line, hotshot?” he cocked a brow, leaning forward. bd-1 chirps in surprise, like he’s ever seen cal try to be this smooth when he wasn’t painfully awkward, especially when he was a kid.

cal chose to ignore he was hitting his mid thirties, it wasn’t like han cared either way.

han’s smile broadened - “hey, it doesn’t hurt to try. not everyday i see a guy like you,” he shrugged.

“a guy like me, huh? you didn’t strike me as the poncho-liking type, especially if that type happened to be a jedi.” cal played along, his tone seeping into a teasing one.

han shook his head, “you space wizards aren’t that bad. besides, your taste in style isn’t all that surprising.” he says easily.

“mhm, i figured as much,” cal chuckled. “so, is there a reason as to why you decided to come over to me? i guess i didn’t do a good job of laying low, if it meant a scruffy smuggler like you wanted to try out lame pick up lines.” he laughs softly.

“hey! don’t blame me, i’m in a bit of a slump. it’s not really my fault if i’ve got a price on my head. can’t you cut a guy like me some slack?” han feigned a pout as cal huffed lightly.

“i suppose i would cut you some slack, that is, if you had a name?” cal smirks, pretending not to know. he watched han inch closer.

“the name’s han solo, though, you probably already knew that.” han’s voice drops to avoid any prying ears…or eyes, for that matter.

“how about you, poncho-boy? you got a name?” han pressed on casually and oh, so smoothly. honestly? it’s no wonder he was able to charm anyone’s pants off in a five mile radius.

“cal kestis. nice to meet you, solo.” his smile widened somewhat.

“cal kestis? not a bad name for a good looking guy,” han looked him over appreciatively. cal had the decency to drop the jedi act to let his face flush, the tips of his ears turning a pretty shade of pink.

“mmm,” cal hums after a beat, his jedi face slotting right back into place to give him time to regain his composure so he didn’t become a blushing mess.

“…i assume you’re flying solo this time around?” cal grins, relishing in han’s disgruntled expression.

“you did not just do that.” han sighs.

“i did. got a problem with puns?” the redhead jokes.

“not if it’s coming from a handsome face,” han rolled his eyes.

“oh, am i handsome now?” cal shot back, enjoying this a little too much.

“oh, shut it.” han mumbled, without any heat. “wanna get outta here?” he added hastily. “‘cause getting my ass kicked by some angry rodians is not what i had in mind for tonight.” han ducks, avoiding a blaster shot from a swearing rodian.

“yeah,” cal strained. “wasn’t what i had in mind either.”

he can deal with those trandoshan later.

———

“huh,” cal had a look of consideration on his face, looking on at the rundown falcon with a sort of thoughtfulness, though han could tell he was just a tad bit unimpressed. (han thought of luke. about how his girl was a ‘piece of junk.’ he pushed the painful memories away before cal could sense his mood souring. there was no way he was thinking of the kid to keep himself from missing him, wherever he was now.) chewie wasn’t here to rag on han for cleaning up the falcon, so a messy ship was the least of his worries.

“you don’t seem very impressed.” han laughs wryly. cal had a playful tilt to his lips.

“i’ve seen worse. you could do with some tidying up,” the jedi commented, lightly pushing away some discarded parts by his feet.

“yeah, sorry. it’s been a rough few months,” han scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, it was strangely out of place for a guy like him.

“i don’t blame you,” cal said nonchalantly. han nods, growing quiet.

“so…” han tried to keep the conversation going. “how come you’re in takodana?” he leaned against the wall across from the seated booths, not in any rush to leave.

“thought i might clear out what’s left of the empire, it led me here. but that price on your head i had to help you out with sort of put a damp in my plans.” he jokes.

“again, my bad.” han apologized, sounding…strangely guilty.

this wasn’t like the han solo cal had heard about. just what has happened in those rough few months?

“you okay?” cal regarded him with a look, one that han translated into the ‘jedi face’. han let his shoulders sag from tension.

“yeah, i guess.” han sighed deeply. “i don’t wanna throw any emotional baggage at a guy i just met. you can head back to the bar for your jedi business. i don’t really mind,” he seemed so unsure of himself. that made cal’s chest sting.

“the trandoshan can wait, they aren’t going anywhere anytime soon…you look like you could use a break, han.” cal frowned, crossing his arms over his chest to relieve some of the pain that twisted all the more at the sight of a man burdened by…time.

“if you say so,” han pressed his lips together. “i guess…i could use a break. want to head back to the place i’m staying at? it’s not too far. you don’t have to, if you don’t want too. you jedi are usually busy doing your thing, i get it.” he offers in a joking attempt to soften the blow of the baggage that weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he ended up sounding so tired.

cal’s chest tightened, sensing han’s emotions in what he’d describe as a heap of shit he was just too old for.

“yeah, don’t worry about it. i don’t mind tagging along.” cal gave an assuring smile.

han gave a tiny one back, feeling a little better than he did before.

———

“honestly…i’m surprised,” han breaks the comfortable silence in his unkempt hotel room, both he and cal sat on the edge of his bed - exhausted, but somewhat okay.

“about?” cal cocked a brow. han didn’t answer for beat, lost in thought.

“that you jedi can remain so…composed, even when there’s so much shit going on, especially with the empire.” han had a bitter smile, trying his best to not think of luke.

but it ended up spilling out anyway. “‘cause there was a jedi i knew who was so whiny, nothing like he is now.” he then waved a vague hand. “sorry. don’t mean to get heavy on ya.”

ah, now it clicked.

cal thought back to the inferno squad. from what he’s heard, that squad has the rebellion by the balls. again, that’s just what he’s heard.

“it’s fine. though, i’m not too sure myself, i don’t want to bore you with the zany, religious answer.” cal laughs quietly, eliciting a huff from han.

“jedi are supposed to be detached from their emotions to better control them, its just as hard as you think it is.” the redhead shrugged.

“for as dumb as that sounds? it’s sort of admirable.” han scoffs. cal shook his head, silently agreeing.

“i don’t suppose this has anything to do with this inferno squad i’ve heard about?” cal pressed on gently. han rolled his eyes.

“yeah, you got me,” han replied gruffly, “don’t want to force you into anything, but we could use more jedi.” he said breezily, covering up the harshness from before.

“if that’s what you need, i’m more than happy to help. but seeing as you’re laying low from what’s going on, i think it’s better if you relax, han.” cal grabbed han’s hand and squeezed.

han looked down at their hands and back up at cal’s dark green eyes. “yeah.” he whispered. “you’re right.” he cleared his throat, looking away.

han’s grip on cal’s hand tightened. “thanks.” he admitted.

cal already knew. “no problem.”

silence lulled and han let go of cal’s hand.

“hey.” han playfully nudged cal’s side.

“hey,” cal smirked, nudging him back.

“i think i know a good way to kill some time,” han suggested, mischief alight in his chocolate colored eyes.

“and what’s that?” cal’s smirk widened, totally down for whatever han had in mind.

“i think you already know,” han leaned closer.

“i don’t think so. mind telling me?” cal relished in playing dumb, a sort of thrill coiling in his stomach. he inches closer.

han’s chapped, rough lips brushed against cal’s own, soft and cherry tinted.

han took the lead, the kiss feather light, slow. he didn’t want to scare cal away.

but cal practically melted into the kiss, sighing into it as he let his eyes close, tilting his head to get a better angle.

and judging by the noise han made in the back of his throat, he wasn’t doing too bad.

he felt han’s strong hands cupping his scarred and delicate cheeks.

the two soon broke apart for air, “you aren’t that bad, red.” han prodded breathlessly.

“not so bad yourself, smuggler.” cal ducked his head, feeling his cheeks flush a deep shade of red.

“wanna go for round 2?” han leaned in and cal felt that rush again.

“definitely,” he all but wheedled.

———

when cal awoke the next morning on han’s bed, sweaty, with a fast asleep han having a gentle hand in his hair-

he knew he must’ve had a fun time relaxing last night.

even if the first thing that came to his mind were the trandoshan? those can wait.

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bigasswritingmagnet · 3 years ago

Text

Uncle Bob

Fandom: Psychonauts Rating: G Summary: Bob Zanotto does have roots, if he'd like to reconnect to them. Lili has a plant question, and Bob's got an answer.

"Ok, see the bolt your hand is on?" Helmut asked.

"Yes..."

"Not that one. Go left. Left. Left. More left. Less left--"

Bob looked away from the block of grease and rust that was the Feel Mobile's engine, and leveled a flat stare to the brain ball beside him.

"You mean right?" Bob said. It was hard to feel annoyed or upset with someone when you forgot how to breathe every time you remembered that they were alive, but he was definitely about to manage some exasperation.

"This would be so much easier if I had hands. I could just point!"

"Helmut, if you had hands, you could do this yourself," Bob said. "Why don't you wait until we get back from Grulovia?"

"I can't wait that long! Look at the state it's in!" The ball rolled forward until it thunked gently against the side of the bus. "My baby."

"What if you got Otto to help you instead?"

"Oh no no no, not while I don't have the hands to stop him from making "improvements" while he's in there."

Bob had to give him that one.

"We can do this!" Helmut insisted, with such enthusiasm Bob couldn't help but smile. "We're a great team. Just put your hand back where it was and move it very slowly left until I say stop."

"Hey guys!" Rescue came in the shape of Raz rounding the corner and waving. "Whatcha doin'?"

"We're fixing the Feel Mobile!"

"We are trying to fix the Feel Mobile," Bob corrected. "But I don't know anything about engines, and Helmut doesn't have hands. It's a process."

"Fortunately, I am excellent at instructions," Helmut said. "Just because I don't have eyes doesn't mean I can't see you rolling yours, Bobby."

"What brings you out to our neck of the woods?" Bob asked.

"We had a plant question," Raz said, triumphantly. There was a brief pause.

"Is that the royal 'we', or...?" Helmut asked.

Raz looked at the empty space at his left. He looked at the empty space at his right. He looked back up the way he came. He gave Bob a slightly embarrassed smile and held up a finger, backing away.

"Gimme one second."

Bob tossed the wrench into the tool kit and stood, a process that was a lot more involved than it used to be.

"Jeez, you sound so old," Helmut teased.

"I am old, you--" The words cut off short, caught in Bob's throat at the flash of dark pigtails zipping back behind a tree. Bob looked away, wiping his hands off on a rag, but he couldn't stop Raz's words from drifting into his ears. The kid had lowered his voice, but not low enough.

"You can't be shy, you're you. ...What? ...Why wouldn't he?"

"Bobby?" Helmut asked, softly.

"It's Truman's daughter," Bob said, gruffly, focusing very hard on getting the grease out from around his nailbeds.

"Oh."

What must she think of him? The last time he'd seen her she wasn't even walking yet. She'd only know him as the crazy old hermit who lived on top of a thorn tower and hated everyone. Or worse, as the drunken mess who screwed up so many missions his own nephew had had to put him out to pasture before he got somebody killed--

Something bonked insistently against his ankle.

"Hey. Hey. Stop that," Helmut ordered. "You're great and she'll love you."

"But--"

Another bonk, this one so hard it actually hurt.

"You're. Great. And. She'll. Love. You."

"Of course he'll like you! ...My psychic senses tell me so. ...It'll be fine, I promise."

Lili stepped out from behind the tree. She looked exactly like the pictures Truman had sent, minus the usual glazed look that came with a school photo. She was clutching a terracotta pot to her chest, one far too large for the sullen, drooping stalks that protruded from it.

"Hey there!" Bob said, trying to sound as cheerful and un-evil-hermit-that-lives-in-the-woods as possible. She approached slowly, but at least didn't look like she was on the verge of running away.

"Hi," she said, softly. "Um...Raz said you might be able to help me with my amaryllis. I've been trying to get it to bloom again. I let it go dormant twice, but it still won't put out any buds."

Bob reached out, and then hesitated. Lili released the pot, which floated over to Bob and hovered. Bob examined the plant, curious. He was impressed, to say the least. Second bloom or no, there weren't a lot of ten year olds who could successfully winter an amaryllis at all, let alone twice in a row.

"No fungus, no pests," he muttered. "Soil seems fine. Is it getting the right kind of light?"

"In the window, sunny and south facing," Lili said, with more confidence. "I checked the soil acidity, I used filtered water, I tried different kinds of plant foods, I tried playing music, I tried talking to it--"

"Yelling at it," Raz corrected.

"I was only yelling because talking wasn't working," Lili said, narrowing her eyes at him. Bob cleared his throat to hide his chuckle.

"Welp," Bob said. "I figured out your problem."

"You did?" Lili's eyes lit up. "What is it? What should I do?"

"You got a dud bulb," Bob said. He prodded the limp leaves, which looked like tangled green shoelaces. "You should just toss it."

"...what?"

Bob gave her a large wink, then continued loudly.

"Yep. That's amaryllis for you. They're weak, give up easy."

The leaves twitched.

"I never bothered with them, honestly. They need so much hand holding, and as for looks, well..."

"You're right," Lili said, nodding sagely. "They're just not pretty enough to justify all the work I've been putting into them. Maybe I should just dump them and grow tulips instead."

"Honestly, you're better off with roses--"

The stalks shot up, straight as arrows and quivering with indignation. Lili laughed in delight as first one, then two, then three pink bulbs swelled and unfurled into three perfect flowers.

"I can't believe that worked!" she cried.

"...did you just use reverse psychology on a plant?" Raz asked, nonplussed.

"Yep. Nothing like spite to put a little color in a flower. Amaryllises are divas," he told Lili. "You need to treat them carefully, but don't coddle them. Make 'em work for your attention." He took the pot in his hands and held it away, leaning down to mutter "And they hate roses."

"It's a plant," Raz said, in the same tone.

"You get used to it," Helmut said.

"But it's--"

"Let it go, kid. Trust me."

Bob handed the pot to Lili and opened his mouth to ask Helmut to explain just what that was supposed to mean...

But the girl took the pot in both hands and beamed up at him with a smile like the sun, and said "Thanks Uncle Bob."

It made it very hard to think of anything to say other than 'sure thing, kiddo.'

#bob zanotto #lili zanotto #helmut fullbear #razputin aquato #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #psychonauts 2 spoilers

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falling-pages · 3 years ago

Text

Kissed by Moonlight: Jean Kirschtein x Reader

My first AoT fic for the love of my life <3 Will there be more? Likely--but almost exclusively of him!

Jean Kirschtein x female Reader

Modern AU, Jean and Reader live in a cliff beachside town, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, pining, confession, first kiss

Reader and Jean are early college, aged roughly 18-20

It’s 3 a.m. and you’re nowhere close to sleeping when your best friend texts you.

Are you awake?

Your eyes focus on his name headlining the top of your screen. You supposed you should have his contact saved under a nickname, or with emojis, or something indicative of your friendship. But not even his last name appears; it’s just Jean, in standard silver letters, but some part of that makes it more romantic, you think, a wonderful familiarity lost in the simplicity. No need to put on airs with him, no need to pretend your relationship is supposed to be quirky or perfect. Pretentious never suited him.

Of course I am, you type back. Your fingers felt like they might bleed with the weight. I always am when I think of you.

But you back off; you delete the words before your foolish, lovesick heart can get too carried away. If he saw your typing bubble, he doesn’t indicate; his own bubble pops up, sending a caring message within a few seconds.

Because if you’re not, don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.

A string tugs around your heart and pulls it into your stomach.

I’m awake.

As soon as you hit send he calls you, his handsome face lighting up the pitch black of your phone screen. He wasn’t even aware of this picture of him, you’re pretty sure. His eyes are closed and his head is thrown back, smiling, laughing at a joke Connie made; his face is colored by the orange and pink and yellow of a dying sun, too lost in his own world to realize the beauty that he brought to yours.

While others had embarrassing pictures of their friends sleeping or in ridiculous filters as their contact photos, you weren’t ashamed of this one. He was a serious boy, always under so much stress; he second-guessed himself when he didn’t need to, brilliant brain trapped under so many questions and doubts. It was nice to have a reminder of him smiling, his heart unbound and carefree, if only for you to enjoy.

You admired it a moment more before swiping to accept the call, nestling the phone against your ear. “Hey, J.”

Despite your insomnia, your voice was still rusty. He noticed instantly, clucking his tongue to take on that mother hen tone he so often directed at Connie and Sasha whenever they were doing something dumb. “You said you were awake.”

“I am!”

“Don’t sound like it.”

You sighed, rolling onto your side to nuzzle deeper into your pillow. Sometimes, if you strained really hard, you could make it smell like him. “Well, then I don’t know how else to convince you I am.”

He hummed, dropping the tone. “Sorry. I just worry about you.” The string tightened. “Bad night?”

Not now. Not since I’m talking to you. “No, just...there’s a lot on my mind.” It wasn’t a lie. There always was when it came to him.

“I’m with you on that.” He yawned, and even through the speaker you heard the adorable miniscule moans playing from his throat. “I think I can help.”

“Why are you lecturing me when you’re also awake?” you teased, cut off by his curt laugh.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there in 5.” Just as you nearly hung up, he hastily tagged on, “And give me back my Scouts sweatshirt. You’ve had it for long enough.”

“No promises.”

“Do--”

An elephant never forgets, you thought as you hung up, slamming the phone back down onto your blankets. Running your hands down your face, through your hair, trying to make it look presentable, only to be left needy and frustrated instead. It wasn’t the first time you had stayed up late together, messy with wet hair and soft skin. The friend group had a habit of staying up late with sleepovers and videochatting--and even you and Jean, alone, when Connie and Sasha had passed out after their soda hauls. Like the total Dad friend he was, he made sure everyone else was out before he fell asleep--even lulling your insomniac self into the great beyond with a hand in your hair and gentle words. Sometimes you wondered if even that were a dream, cruel memories implanted by your brain due to intricate fantasies you wove for comfort, but even if they were, they helped calm your heart and rest your mind.

Pulling the covers back was a cruel awakening; the night air was chilling against your skin, goosebumps rising over the ridges of your legs. With a sigh you pulled on some leggings and your shoes, rifling through your closet for his coveted lacrosse sweatshirt. There was good reason as to why it was his favorite, and why you stole it so often. It was thick and cushiony, nearly waterproof, with the wings emblem printed on the front and his last name stitched across the back of the shoulders, warm and cuddly.

For some reason, having Kirschtein embroidered across your back filled you with a sense of security and warmed you to the furthest corners of your heart.

Lights flashed outside your window, and careful to keep your housemates sleeping you opened the screen and snuck out, shimmying down the pipe drain and landing on your feet outside the house. You dashed over to his car and he’s there to greet you, throwing open your door from the inside.

“Hey,” you whispered as soon as you got in, brushing back your hair flyaways from the wind.

Jean leaned over to hug you, keeping his right hand on the wheel while his left arm crossed his body, tucking you close against his neck. His stubbled chin brushed against your forehead. “You came,” he said, releasing you, as if nestled right in the crook of his shoulder wasn’t the most peaceful place on earth.

“We were on the phone less than five minutes ago,” you said, crossing your arms indignantly. “You think I’d ditch you like that?”

“Mmm, maybe, princess.” He flicked your nose before shifting the car back into drive. “You do have a history of flaking on me.”

“That was once, and I had just come back from surgery,” you sputtered, clicking your seatbelt. “I’m sorry I was knocked out and couldn’t answer your text.”

“Yeah, you should be.”

Impossible boy, but damn if you didn’t love him.

Jean cleared his throat as he pulled out of the driveway. You tried to ignore the way his arm rested behind your seat as he looked behind him, ever so cautious, calculating, and caring.

“Where are we going?” you asked, trying to focus on the lights spearing the darkness of night.

“The beach,” he replied, switching on his high-beams. “It’s somewhere I go for peace and quiet. Figured it might work for you, too.”

When he rested his hand on the gearshift, large and tantalizingly warm, it took everything in you not to grab it. He might not even notice, and if he did, would he think much of it? Physical affection was rife in your friend group, from Connie swinging his arms around to Sasha giving headpats for even the tiniest achievements. More than once since childhood you’ve fallen asleep in someone’s arms or had someone’s head in your lap while watching a movie. But in the last year there was an electric charge between you and him, a tension not unwelcome between every glance, as if every almost-touch was worth more than gold; his skin would feel wonderful, but oh, it was that almost-touch, fingertips ghosting over knuckles and lips skimming cheeks, that intoxicated you, made you so desperate for him.

“That sounds nice,” you choked out, giving way to the temptation of his hand so close to your leg. You rest yours on top of his, feather-light dragging against the skin. “Thank you.”

Jean swallowed, but gave you a smile, flipping his hand to cage yours underneath his, molding it against the knob of his gearshift. After that he kept his eyes on the road, but it gave you a pass to stare at him, how the moonlight illuminated his features.

The sweet smell of a barbershop filled the air, mingling with the salty spray from the cliffside ocean just to your left. It led you to examine his hair--swept back underneath his backwards baseball cap, his undercut fresh and fuzzy beneath. Where could he have gotten his hair cut at 3 a.m.? He’d likely never tell you, and you’d likely never know, but that was his little mystery to contain, just as you had your own.

Light glinted off the black studs in his ears and the silver chain hooked around his neck. A devil in the details but an angel in this car. Why was he so dressed up so late at night, when you were still in your pajamas? Had he even gone to bed?

Like a good boy he kept his eyes on the road, the only communication when he squeezed your hand when he used it to change gears. He swore he’d teach you how to drive his car one day, but you sensed he liked the control it gave him. He was competitive, if those detention slips and fistfights with Eren taught you anything. He liked being in the know.

Plus, not just anyone drove his car.

Tension mounted until you thought it would break, snapping like steel, but before it could he was smoothing the car to a stop and shifting your hand into park. Ever the gentleman, he got out first and hopped over the hood to your side, opening it with ease. The absence of his hand on yours was sobering, but then he extended it again to help you out of the car, reviving the butterflies, and held it as he led you to the front.

“This ground’s uneven,” he muttered, like it could excuse his actions. “Don’t trip.”

A fall off this cliff would mean certain death, so it was nice he cared. “So considerate,” you whispered, only met with his scoff.

“Yeah, well, if I didn’t have you, then I would be stuck with Connie and Sasha alone,” he moaned. “And don’t get me wrong, I love them to death, but sometimes I need peace and quiet, and you provide that for me. So no, I don’t want you tripping over your own ass and falling off a cliff.”

He flexed his hand so you could feel his strength. A rush washed over you. He trusted himself to keep you safe, and you trusted him, so much that if you had to choose him or the sun, you’d bask in his warmth every single day.

“Thanks. That means a lot.” It was the quietest mumble, but he heard it, deftly running his thumb over your knuckles before pulling away.

By now you were both comfortably settled against the hood of his car, facing the horizon over the edge of the cliff. A familiar spot, though tucked away and hidden from sight of most roads, but stunning, worth the seclusion for the moonrise it allowed you to see. Darkness faded in the light of the moon, bright though crescented, stitched among a canvas of stars above an azure blue sea, stretching out to the end of the world. Almost its own proper working galaxy, a private show from the cosmos that Jean wanted to share with you. At this elevation, you felt like you could reach out and wrap a star in your palm.

If he came here often to think...did this somehow remind him of you?

“This is…perfect,” you said, all air stolen from your lungs at the sight before you. He had somehow both caused and cured your insomnia.

Unbeknownst to you, his gaze lingered on your face, memorizing how wide your smile was, how your features were awash in moonlight, glazed in silver and dripping with saline. And to think he had caused it, he had done something as simple as driving you to a new spot had caused you so much happiness, tugged his stomach in a funny type of way.

“I wanted to share this with you,” he admitted. “I thought it might help.”

“Oh, Jean.” You turned to him, eyes aglow with candelight. “Thank you.”

Just the way you said his name sent a sharp feeling digging into his sides, satisfying, like reaching an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. A million thoughts leapt from his brain onto his tongue--You’re beautiful, I want you, I love you--but he swallowed them down like medicine, letting them burn like lead. If you didn’t feel the same, it would ruin a beautiful moment. He couldn’t do that to you. Not on this night. Not in this special place.

“You’re shivering,” he whispered, and he took off his outer shirt, a button-down one size too big that acted like a jacket over his henley tee, to drape loosely around your shoulders. He liked to layer his outfits; they were like barriers to his heart, yet he shed these layers to keep you warm, to keep you close to him.

“We can share the warmth,” you offered, tilting closer until your head rested against his shoulder and you could feel the nervous breath stuttering in his lungs.

He allowed his eyes to drift down your body, settling on the team logo emblazoned on your chest. The sweater was much too big on you, made for his broad shoulders and not your frame, but it suited you. He smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist, keeping you close--even sitting sedentary, the cliff worried him.

“You’re wearing my sweatshirt.”

“Yep.” You slide the sleeves over your hands, cushioning them to slap at him playfully.

He laughed, dodging your attacks but nimbly grabbing your wrists by the joint. “I’m not getting it back, am I,” he said, more of a defeated statement of fact than a question.

You giggled, and facing him from this angle, it’s like you were wearing the moon as a tiara. “Not unless you wanna see what’s underneath.”

Jean blinked, careful not to betray his surprise, “You’re saucy for three in the morning. What’s gotten into you?”

The playfulness in your core dies down, replaced with that familiar gnawing whenever his skin brushed yours. “Couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged.

When you shimmied your hips, Jean lifted you by the waist and helped you sit on the hood. He leaned back, using his hands to support himself, and despite your new elevation, he stood, all six-foot-two of him, towering over you. You balled your fists, pretending the sight didn’t make your knees weak.

“You know if you can’t sleep, you can always call me, right?” he asked carefully, keeping his eyes on the horizon.

“I don’t wanna bother you. You deserve to sleep, too.”

“You’re more important to me than that.” A hasty swallow, a breathy laugh. “Besides, everyone thinks I’m a big grump anyways, so it only adds to my image.”

“They only think that because you let them,” you said. “Why don’t you let people in? Why don’t you let them see what I see?”

He turned, hazel eyes charged with energy from the night sky. “What do you see, princess?”

“I see my best friend! I see the boy I grew up with now turned into a man, a man with his own morals and sense of truth and loyalty, who would never, ever leave me behind. I see a man too smart for his own good, someone who is capable and strong but doubts himself!” You’re out of breath, but the words just keep tumbling out. “I see a leader, a go-getter, someone honest and compassionate and true, who would die before he lets his friends down. That’s who I see, Jean, I see you as the man I fell in love with and I have no idea where I would be without you in my life.”

Somehow your hands had become entangled around his shoulders, pressing hot against his neck before sliding up his jaw to cup his cheeks, making him look at you shining with tears and love and moonlight. It spilled out of you like water, though your eyes were dry.

And that’s when something funny happened. He looked like he had just been punched in the gut because he had--you made him feel weak, stabbed right through the chink in the armor he so tightly fastened around his heart, but instead of deflating at the intrusion, he blossomed; with you his heart swelled till it burst, showering you in love and adoration and something shining brighter than the moon watching above your heads.

“I thought I’d never hear you say those words,” he gasped, laughing as he leaned his forehead down into yours. “I really--I didn’t--”

“Say what words?” you asked innocently, needing, bleeding, to hear him say it back.

“I love you. Oh my God, I love you so much, come here.”

Jean pulled you close on the hood and kissed you, so dizzying that it was a bit concerning, considering you two were perched on a cliff, but at that moment it didn’t matter; the moon could have dropped out of orbit, the world could have collapsed, you could have fallen from the sky and it wouldn’t have mattered, not as long as his lips were on yours.

He was warm in the cool night air, frenzied as you two fought with and against each other. It was less of a dance and more of a battle as all the tension from all those years rushed from one and into the other. It was all grabbing hands and knocking teeth and clawing fingers; you knocked off his cap as you tangled in his ash brown hair, and he nearly picked you up with how hard he was holding your waist.

Then, when common sense burrowed itself back into his brain, he leaned away, tongue severing the thin string of saliva tethering you. His absence drew a whimper from you as you struggled to open your eyes, so lost and drunk on this feeling, the feeling of finally and forever.

“Jean…” you whined, but he gently shushed you, trailing his thumb over your chin and swiping against your bottom lip before coming up to your cheekbone and caressing the soft skin.

What kind of man was he, kissing the girl he loved for the first time like a random hook-up at a party?

No, you were worth more than that, and you deserved more than that. He was a romantic, and you were his princess; he had to be gentle with you, soft, now that he held your heart in his hands.

“Most beautiful girl in the world,” he hummed, lightly pressing his lips below your ear, met with goosebumps flooding down your skin. “Let me give you a proper kiss.”

And he did. It was good and proper, sweet yet still feisty--this was more like the waltz you had envisioned sharing with him. In this one soft kiss, he let out every sensitive emotion, cupping your face in his hands as if it were glass, drinking from your lips as if you were a fountain that would never ever run dry.

Soft sighs and sounds escaped your diaphragm as you melted in his hands. You ran your fingers gingerly across his well-muscled biceps, dipping onto his chest, before settling contendly at his waist. Caressing him softly, you laved all the love you could into him, like he was the prize you deserved after a hard-fought life.

This was the I love you kiss.

Jean pulled away with a whisper of your name, dropping another kiss to your forehead before wrapping you up in a suffocating hug. “It feels so good to hold you like this,” he cooed, “in my arms, against my chest. Like...like I’ve always dreamed.” He perched his head on top of yours, humming, stroking up and down your back. “If I could stay right here with you forever, I would.”

“We can.”

“But finals…”

You hushed him with another kiss, one that had him laughing and blushing against your lips.

“Okay,” he grinned. “No finals talk. Not tonight.”

He squeezed you closer as the wind blew harder--the one downside of living on a cliffside beach--and you nosed along his neck. “Are you cold?”

Despite his shaking head, you squirmed out of his embrace and began peeling off the shirt he had given you, but he gently stopped your hands, intertwining them with his.

“Keep it. You look good wearing my clothes,” he said, to which you had a physical reaction to his sincerity.

“Aww, you’re blushing like a rose.” He leaned down and pecked the space between your eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. ‘S cute, princess.”

“Gonna keep calling me that?”

“Mmmhm.” He kissed the tip of your nose, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Because you’re my pretty little flower, my princess. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“That will be a very long time, my love.”

This cliff high above the waves was made for childhood friends, for the lovers who always knew but couldn’t act, for the breathless and wild, for the safe and secure, a place to talk and dream and adore in the other’s arms, kissed by moonlight and blessed by the stars.

Kofi

#aot #jean kirschtein #jean kirschtein x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan #jean kirschtein x you #snk #snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #jean kirstein

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