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pecanwriter · 11 months ago

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Lord of Lard part 3 (WG story)

Themes: magic-induced weight gain, fantasy-setting, weight-related spells

Words: 2815

Part: 3/?

The part of the castle in which Dosian stayed was much nicer than Kersev’s prison tower. In fact, it was lavish. The floor was made of perfectly polished grey marble, the walls were painted in intricate, elaborate flower designs, the hallway through which the guard was leading Kersev was wide and spacious, every door they passed had complicated, well-made wood carvings on it and was painted in white and gold.

They stood in front of a double-winged door, as elaborate as all the rest but with a massive gold locking mechanism keeping it shut. The mechanism resembled a clockface but with a multitude of smaller and bigger circular gears. It was opened by a surprisingly tiny key which the guard turned twice setting the mechanism in motion, all the gears shifting and grinding against each other.

With an ominous creak, the doors opened.

“Inside!” The Guard jabbed Kersev in the back and as soon as he waddled inside, the door shut firmly behind him.

Kersev found himself in a large, richly decorated room. Everything was in shades of pink, gold and white. Like a room for the Queen’s beloved Poodle, Kersev couldn’t help thinking. There was a large fireplace in front of which stood an enormous bathtub, almost as large as a small pool. There was a wide, sturdy-looking couch stacked high with pillows and in front of it an enormous low table, filled to the brim with fruit, all types of beautiful, mouth-watering desserts and cakes drizzled in chocolate and stacked high with heavy whipped cream. Dosian’s favourite white cream cake with exotic fruit stood in the centre, enormous and so overfilled with cream it was a marvel to Kersev that it was still standing up.

There was a chaise longue next to which stood a beautiful white harp and a lyre rested against one of the pillows. Next to the window stood an easel with an unfinished painting of flowers on it, Kersev recognised Dosian’s brush immediately. In front of the easel stood a wide wooden bench.

There was an enormous wardrobe, undoubtedly filled to the brim with outlandish, revealing garments suited well for the Dark Lord’s favourite pet.

The last thing in the room was a truly gigantic bed with a gauzy, delicate canopy. There were steps leading up to it, despite it being a regular height for a bed.

Under the canopy, resting against a thousand pillows laid, or rather half-sat Dosian. It’s been months since Kersev saw him and he could tell Dosian was even fatter than before. His gargantuan, swollen legs were spread wide to accommodate for the unbelievable mass of his belly spilling in front of him, taking up a significant portion of the bed. Everything on him seemed bigger, more overstuffed with lard, softer, fuller… His arms, his neck, his chest, even his beautiful face. It was all being swallowed by new fat folds and bulges.

Kersev waddled to the bed. Dosian seemed to have been asleep, or at least dozing, his eyes closed and his chest moving slowly.

“My love…” He whispered, laboriously climbing the few stairs to get to the bed.

Dosian opened his eyes almost immediately, pure shock registering on his beautiful face before his eyes filled with tears.

“My Prince…” Dosian croaked, turning his face away “Please look not upon me in such a state…”

“Cease the formalities, Dosian! Look at me!” Kersev shook Dosian’s arm making his entire body jiggle, he didn’t stop until Dosian looked up at him, his alabaster skin flushed and his emerald eyes filled with tears. “There you are…” Kersev stroked Dosian’s soft cheek gently “By the Spirits, I believed you dead for over five years…”

“I wish I were dead, My Prince…”

“Never” Kersev’s voice was hard as steel “Say that again. Ever. I could not be happier that you’re alive.”

“Look at me…” Dosian almost whined, grabbing a handful of his side roll and shaking it “I’m enormous….”

“That doesn’t matter.” Kersev managed to sit next to Dosian, the massive bed somehow accommodating both of their hefty frames. “Look at me, I’m not the Prince you left behind either, am I?” He shook his own gut and watched it jiggle with a sick fascination, still hardly believing it was his body.

“He’s an evil, twisted thing…” Dosian whispered, “I will never forgive him for doing this to you.”

“If he didn’t do this to me, I would’ve never been able to see you again.” Kersev kissed Dosian.

Their fat bodies felt unfamiliar with each other, even their fat faces felt different. But the touch of Dosian’s lips, his fresh, sweet meadow smell felt as familiar as if they were never parted at all.

“I’m sorry I was too weak to escape…” Dosian pleaded, resting his head against Kersev’s chest. “Don’t be ridiculous, my beloved.” Kersev stroked Dosian’s pale hair “You’re an artist, a musician, a dancer, not a Knight Mage! Not even a regular knight! How could you possibly stand against someone like Him? No, my love, the fault is mine. I should’ve known he was too wicked to just kill you without a devious plan at hand. I should’ve looked for you until I succeeded. Instead, I wasted five years on training and dreaming of revenge just to be defeated immediately and have this damnable collar put on me.” Kersev punched the collar against his neck angrily. Truthfully, it was not the same collar, he was way too fat for the first one now. But that only made it worse; the knowledge that while he was deep in another food coma someone removed his collar to replace it. He’d become so fat and sluggish that he wasted such a perfect opportunity to escape.

Dosian looked at his own wrists where two heavy, ornamental bracelets were digging into his fat forearms. Even through his magic-dimming collar, Kersev could sense they served the same function.

Kersev’s training was telling him that he should use every opportunity to plot their escape, but even that rational part of himself was helpless against his starved heart that more than anything yearned to be with his lover.

“Do many people come here?” Kersev asked, reaching behind Dosian to play with his thick braid; a habit he’d assumed to be long lost.

“Not really. They fill the table in the morning and I have to clean it out by the next morning, otherwise, they will punish me, but other than that they let me be. Unless He wants me, then someone comes to take me to him, He doesn’t come here.”

“What happens when he wants you…?”

“Usually it’s to feed new slaves, to scare them by how big I am…” Dosian croaked, absent-mindedly smoothing out the delicate, sheer fabric that covered his massive belly. “But sometimes he wants me for himself.”

“And then what happens…?” Kersev asked calmly, feeling anything but calm.

“Usually he wants me to feed him, or he wants to feed me. Sometimes he wants me to sing. He used to make me dance for him but I’m too big now… And sometimes he wants me to pleasure him…”

Kersev clutched his fists so tight his knuckles cracked.

“But he never touches me!” Dosian rushed to explain, his eyes pleading “He never wants to enter me, he just wants me to touch him. I’m nobody’s but yours, My Prince.”

“Oh Dosian, my love, I’m not mad at you, I could never be mad at you.” He kissed Dosian’s warm forehead “I’m mad, furious, at Him. And myself.”

“You needn’t be angry with yourself, you came to me, My Prince…” Dosian bowed his head low, reverently taking Kersev’s pudgy hand in both of his and kissing the knuckles gently. “I missed you so. Not a day has passed when I didn’t think about you when I didn’t dream about us being together again…”

“Would you allow me to make love to you, my sweet darling…?” Kersev kissed the corner of Dosian’s mouth gently.

Dosian’s face took on a look of terror, he looked down at himself, smoothed out the sheer fabric again, looked away.

“But I’m…”

Kersev cupped both of Dosian’s cheeks and forced him to once again look Kersev in the eye.

“You’re perfect, my love.”

“But…”

“I lost you for over five years. I’m not losing you for a moment longer.”

A single tear rolled down Dosian’s flushed face and Kersev kissed it away.

“But how…?” Dosian asked, looking between their two bodies, Kersev’s massive body that was still somehow clinging to its mobility and his own that was probably only months if not weeks away from being too massive to ever move again unless aided by magic.

“Do you think you can turn face down and bend your knees?”

Dosian looked hesitant but he nodded. The Duke took a deep breath and started rocking his enormous bulk to the left. The folds upon folds of fat began to sway from side to side with the movement. Dosian tried throwing himself to the side, but he didn’t build up enough momentum for his body to move. He let out a soft, but obviously frustrated groan and began rocking again. This time, when he threw himself to the side Kersev grabbed him, pushing as hard as he could, his fat-encased muscles straining against the enormous bulk. Together, they managed to flop Dosian onto his belly, revealing the fat rolls covering his soft, pale back and his wide, unbelievably hefty ass.

Kersev kissed Dosian’s head as he panted with effort. His belly was so enormous that when he laid on it Dosian’s ass was pretty much up in the air already. Kersev’s heart clenched as seeing how exhausted Dosian was just after changing positions when once upon a time he could dance at the King’s Court from dusk till dawn to the delight of every guest and then still have enough energy to make passionate love with Kersev in the pale hours of the morning.

“I missed you, my beloved Duke, I missed you so…” Kersev spoke as he shuffled around the bed to kneel behind Dosian.

Kersev run his swollen fingers across the immense globes of Dosian’s ass, he squeezed his sides, peppered kisses across his back... Kersev worshipped his lover as best as their overfed bodies would allow them. It was different, it would probably never be how it was before, but what mattered was that his Duke, the true and only love of his heart was still alive.

When Kersev entered Dorian they both gasped, struck speechless by the familiarity, by the connection they thought they’d never feel again.

“More…” Dosian pleaded. He shifted from laying face down to resting on his elbows, bobbing his head and swaying his enormous body slightly.

And Kersev gave him more, his grunts and Dosian’s little panting noises filled the room. Kersev was almost at his climax when suddenly, out of nowhere something changed.

“Ah, young love reunited. How wonderful.” The Dark Lord let out a sigh. He lay sprawled on Dosian’s pink chaise longue, eating a chocolate-drizzled pastry.

Kersev wanted to move, to cover Dosian, to do something. Only, he couldn’t.

In fact, he couldn’t move at all.

“Release us!” He spat, relieved to find at least his head wasn’t under the spell.

“I think not.” The Dark Lord said matter-of-factly, getting up from his seat and walking over to the bed with a devilish smile, his obscenely tight garments showing every bounce and jiggle of his fat flesh. “Your beautiful love warms my cold heart, I wouldn’t want to let it go so quickly.” He brushed a long nail along Dosian’s cheek and smiled even wider when Kersev growled.

“Worry not, dear Prince, I wouldn’t hurt my favourite pet.” He scratched Dosian’s double chin as if scratching a cat “I do worry, however. You’re making him burn all that fuel I so graciously put into him, he will waste away, the poor thing!”

Kersev’s blood ran cold as he watched their captor bring the entire massive table closer to the bed with one mindless wave of his hand. He reached for a palm-sized pastry stacked high with whipped cream and sugar-glazed strawberries.

“Open wide, my sweet boy.” The Dark Lord said, his yellow eyes glinting as he stuffed the entire thing in Dosian’s mouth, smearing sugar glaze and whipped cream around his lips and on his fat chin.

“Leave him alone!” Kersev yelled, still unable to move, still deep inside his lover. He was so overcome with rage and humiliation that it surprised even him. He’d have thought that it was impossible to be more humiliated and degraded than he’d been in all these months of captivity. But once again, he underestimated The Dark Lord.

“Oh, do you feel left out, Your Highness?” The Dark Lord reached for another pastry, stuffed with caramel and creamed that oozed out of it. He stuffed it into Kersev’s mouth almost violently, all the while smiling almost sweetly.

“No, please, feed me, My Lord…” Dosian pleaded desperately. Kersev could only see the side of his face, but still, it made his heart clench. There was cream on his fat cheeks and tears in his green eyes. His Dosian, overfed almost to the point of immobility, his soft flesh so overstuffed with fat it didn’t even resemble him anymore… His Dosian, begging to be fed more to spare Kersev’s pathetic life. The life which he already lost when he got captured, the life which he didn’t deserve.

“What do we have to do for you to release the spell?!” Kersev demanded, his own eyes stinging with tears.

“Why, clear the table, of course.” “T-that’s…. Impossible!” Kersev stared at the table overflowing with food.

“Oh, you underestimate your new body, my dear Prince.” The Dark Lord smiled, grabbing Kersev’s fat gut and giving it a solid shake. “And you definitely underestimate my favourite pet. This beautiful body didn’t come from nothing.” the Lord ran an appreciative hand over Dosian’s massive ass and along his back. He reached for a platted with an entire vanilla cake on it. Not even bothering with cutting it into pieces, he took a spoon and began stuffing it into Dosian’s face at an alarming rate. To Kersev’s surprise, his sweet Dosian was keeping up admirably, swallowing as soon as the Lord stuffed it into his face. Within seconds, it seemed, the entire cake fit for a party of twelve was gone, the only remnants of it the cream smeared on Dosian’s face.

“See? He’s such a good, sweet boy.” The Dark Lord patted Dosian’s fat cheek, slowly turning his devilish gaze on Kersev “Now, your turn.”

He took a metal pitcher of something off the table and grabbing Kersev by the hair pulled his head back. “Open wide, Your Highness.” He sing-sang, pressing the pitcher to Kersev’s lips and tilting it.

It was overpoweringly sweet and at first, Kersev thought it was honeymeed, but soon he realised it was much thicker than that. It was just… Honey. The Dark Lord poured an entire pitcher of fresh, liquid honey down his throat. And Kersev swallowed every last drop if it only meant it was one less thing The Dark Lord would feed his Dosian.

The Dark Lord kept stuffing more and more sugary sweets and cakes into them. Soon, Kersev’s stomach was so stuffed that he nearly forgot about the fact he was still naked and inside of Dosian. It seemed a small discomfort compared to how tight and bloated his stomach became.

“Here you go.” The Dark Lord put a pastry against his lips but Kersev shook his head.

“I can’t…. I can’t…” He panted, finding even speaking painful with how stuffed he was.

“Give it to me, My Lord! I’m not even satiated yet.” Dosian urged, even though he’d probably eaten more in the past hour than an entire family of four ate in a week.

“I trained you well, sweet boy.” The Dark Lord’s eyes burned with magical power as he stuffed an entire handful of cake into Dosian’s mouth, not bothering with utensils anymore.

Kersev panted, his stomach so full he was unable to think of anything else but the pain and the slow, simmering anger as he watched The Dark Lord slowly kill his beloved in a way much more cruel than simply killing him with weapons.

“Last bite” The Dark Lord sang, stuffing one last handful of chocolate cake into Dosian’s mouth.

As soon as he swallowed the spell released them and Kersev slid out of Dosian, falling to the bed, his enormous, swollen belly sticking up in the air. He panted, tears streaming down his face.

“My Lord, can we have a bath?” Dosian asked in a perfect, docile pet voice.

“Of course my sweet, you’re all filthy!”

And with that, he was gone. And so was the last shred of Kersev’s dignity.

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whirlybirbs · 3 years ago

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FEVER-DREAM ; echo/reader

summary: echo is fine-tuning his new prosthesis. you have experience, you help. unspoken feelings are acted on. adoration blooms. you learn what mesh’la means.

word count: 3k

pairing: echo / f!reader

tags: mutual pining, lots of tender looks, victorian-era hand-touching sluttiness, echo is a gentle soul, reader is head over heels, a touch of ptsd mention, set on ord mantell, mention of our boy fives, in this house we love assistive devices, enough sexual tension to power the death star

a/n: this is me round-house kicking the bad batch writers in the throat because they made echo cosplay a droid — but, also because this man deserves to be treated as more than a means to a mission’s end. majority of you know i am ~bitter~ (understatement of the century) of tbb’s plot/design/writing. but echo has been a favorite from the original days... so have some very soft fic.

i reference character redesigns by @nibeul in this piece — please go peep them here, and some updated character spreads here! they’re really beautiful and add a phenomenal layer of storytelling to the existing designs that’s lacking. nibuel’s art and writing is lovely. please give them a follow — i can’t rec their work enough.

“How does it feel?”

The words are nearly whispered; it’s clear you didn’t want to startle him, and Echo can feel the pinch in his brow soften at your sudden appearence in the doorway.

His bunk, at the back of the Havoc Marauder, is small — the space itself even more so. There’s a makeshift partition, hooked together with spare parts and meant to offer a bit of privacy on the cramped vessel. Its slate grey color has faded, and the edges have become tattered in the cycles of use.

When Echo pulls his dark eyes up from his work, you’re leaning against the frame — your expression is earnest.

For a moment, the once-ARC Trooper is quiet.

He wonders if he’ll ever get used to your attention. Each and every time, it sends him into a spiral; his heart catches as he inhales and tries to push down the warm stir in his gut. The sight of you is enough, nowadays, to melt Echo’s well-maintained irritability. His attention is stolen from his ever-present pain, if only for a bit.

There are plenty of days where he misses the old him — the wide-eyed, eager ARC Trooper who had his brothers by his side. His real brothers. Hevy, Cutup, Droidbait... Fives.

Fuckin’ hell, Fives was probably staring down at him now laughing.

No matter what changes, you’re still shit with the ladies, vod’ika.

In a way he hasn’t fully admitted to himself, you make him feel like himself again. Like... Like some shiny cadet, on leave and distracted by the promises of pretty smiles passing-by. It’s good.

This makes him feel... good.

He flexes, and his right hand — the new, gunmetal durasteel cyberized-prosthesis — closes into a tight fist. It’s taken him a bit, but the feeling isn’t so foreign now. It’s still... slow. Slower than he’s used to, but you’d mentioned it may take some time. The phantom feelings get better, too. All in all, it’s a good thing.

Your own hand, your left, glimmers back in the same gunmetal color.

(Echo had never pressed you about the missing limb — not until one day, in Cid’s, you’d joined him in a quiet corner. You’d spilled your drink and a complaint about getting the star-cherry syrup out of the joints had slipped out. Echo had laughed; a real laugh, the sort that was so rare coming from him, it had you staring at him as if he’d hung ever star in the sky.

Can I ask how it happened? he’d said, breaking the heavy silence when your eyes never left his.

The Pykes, you’d said, and that was enough.)

“I haven’t, uh... Haven’t gotten the sensory calibration right yet.”

Then, his prosthesis cramps. His fingers go rigid, and Echo curses sharply as he reaches around his forearm to quickly reboot the appendage. It goes slack, then hums alive once more.

You wince.

You’re slow to move into the room — and you settle atop one of the crates Echo had stolen from the belly of the ship, an old Mantell Mix shipping container. You’re mindful to set his datapad aside, to not disturb his space too much. Before you reach for his hand, however, you lift your chin and open your hands in your lap.

“May I?” you ask, just as soft as before.

Echo feels small under your gaze.

Truth be told, you’re doing more than just... asking. You’re taking him in — appreciating him. It’s a habit that’s grown more and more apparent to not only himself, but the others.

In recent rotations, Echo has let his hair grow out — not long, but the once close buzz he’d kept has begun to curl at the top. Not entirely dissimilair to how it was before the Citadel. The dermal implants, the ones the Techno Union installed in order to parse the nuerological data in his head, stand out against his warm-colored skin.

His usual AJ^6-inspired headpiece is resting on his bunk.

That damn thing.

A neccesary tool. One that, given the amount of user data Tech had procured when working on modifying the implant, Echo found himself immediately distrusting. It wasn’t as if the AJ^6 cyborg construct had a beautiful track record, and frankly, Echo would like to keep his personality in tact, thank you very much. There were plenty of days he felt machine enough.

It wasn’t often you saw him without the headset; you knew it made linking in via his scomp easier to handle, it made the visualization of data transfers as easy as breathing. For Echo, it was a part of his vast kit, an important tool. For you, seeing him without it bubbles up a bit of a smile.

Echo catches it.

His eyes narrow playfully.

He looks... well. You — hell, are there words for it? For the way the sight of him makes you feel? It’s like there’s a world full of potential there, a thousand words unsaid, and feelings that have steeped in the warmth of longing gazes and half-there touches.

You’re still looking up at him, knees bent on the crate.

You blink, realizing you’ve been caught staring — not for the first time and certainly not for the last. In the beginning, it had left a sour taste in Echo’s mouth. But, now... Well, it stokes a sort of pride in his chest that he hangs onto.

It never gets easier to recover from — certainly not when Echo smirks. He moves to allow you to take his prosthesis into your lap. The gesture is gentle; your fingers cradle the firm yet pliable metal.

“What?” he asks. His voice, low and rough and warm, is tinted with amusement.

“Nothing,” you say vaguely with a shrug — as if that’s supposed to explain any part of your enamored stare. Your attention moves to the prosthesis.

“Nothing?” he asks, moving to thumb his left ear with his free hand with a dash of nervousness. A habit. Echo tilts his head as his fingers brush the cochlear implant there. The panel rests neatly against the side of his head, a small rounded-off square. The bite of self-consciousness has dwindled around you — but still, it creeps back up every now and again.

The Corporal’s brows knot playfully as you turn his new hand over in your lap; you’re admiring the upgraded feel, the more seamless panelling in comparison to your own. Echo watches your lashes flutter in silent thought.

Then:

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.”

You blink slowly at the hand, swallow down your sudden sheepishness and ignore his gaze. You bite back the smile digging into your cheeks. “Maybe.”

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks suddenly, and you look up.

A baited trick. He’s smiling.

The warm sort — the sort reserved for you and for Omega. The two souls that hold a piece of his heart, with all its ticking valves and electric timed pulses. There are machinisms that keep him alive, and then there is you. Your wide-eyed expression melts, giving way to the sort of smile he’s tried to memorize over and over. It’s the same smile that has warded off that reoccuring nightmare of the night on the tarmac at the Citadel, the same smile that has pulled him through the grit of phantom pains.

“What—” a sudden laugh bursts from your chest, “What is that supposed to��mean?”

“You were staring, mesh’la,” he rumbles out as a reminder, enjoying the fact he’s suddenly become the center of your attention. Echo leans back, his boot toeing yours. You nudge it back. Your face feels hot. You ignore his pointedly teasing look with a roll of your eyes.

The nickname started a few weeks ago. You haven’t asked what it means — no, for now it’s meaning hangs in the balance. Untouched but there. The affection the word carries makes your heart feel heavier and unbelievably full.

“Bad habit,” you chirp back, looking up at him through your lashes.

His laugh is warm.

“Maybe not.”

“No,” you say quietly; your voice is soft as your eyes bounce across his face, tracing the lines of his face with your gaze, “I don’t think it is.”

There’s a silence that slips between you — a comfortable one. It’s heavier than before. That has begun to happen recently, especially with the petal-soft utterance of mesh’la becoming more and more frequent. You hold his gaze. Echo lets out a soft, contented sigh.

Then, you remember the task at hand.

You clear your throat.

“Uh... The access panel I’m looking for,” you say slowly as your raise your finger to point to your own arm, “It’s on your bicep.”

Echo blinks. He clears his own throat before looking down — he hadn’t even noticed that access panel. That could explain the jarring miscommunication stalling the limb. This model had more bells and whistles than he initally realized.

Better than a fuckin’ scomp link, that’s for sure.

Wordlessly, Echo makes room on his bunk. You move to settle beside him, your bent leg resting aginst his hip as you half-straddle the bed; your other knee brushes his thigh — and Echo tries to sit still. You’re close, now.

“Is it okay if...?” you trail off, fingers tugging on the short sleeve of his blacks; you pause until Echo offers a curt nod. You catch him swallow. You push onward, fingers nimbly rolling the fabric up over his broad bicep.

Echo steals a glance your way as your fingers pass across a slip of his bare skin.

In his lap, both his hands twitch.

He’s no small man. Lean and athletic, Echo is built like a soldier. Omega had said once that Echo was an ARC Trooper, one of the best of the best. You believed every bit of it, and you’d hung on her words when she’d rambled on about ARC training, about Kamino, and about who Echo was before you knew him. It was all in the past, though. That Echo is a part of this Echo but... They’re different men. He’s been changed by the things that have happened.

You don’t press him on the details.

In time, they’re slipped into conversation here and there — between the here and now.

In the beginning, when you’d found yourself amongst the crew of the Havoc Marauder — be it for a simple job on Cid’s behalf — Echo had hardly paid you a moment of attention, though you admit you’d been curious from the start. It had taken three jobs for you to finally see his face. Then began the slow and gradual bonding over catching joints, grating plates, and hardware updates. His legs, your arm. Two pieces of a pair.

Now, he has this. A beautiful new upgrade — something he’s wanted for a long time. A part of his old self is back, in a way.

You liked that it was more than just a tool. That, in having this piece of his body back, he felt like more than a tool. More than a scomp link.

After all, he is a man — a... a very handsome man. One whose proximity is sort of distracting you, again, from the task at hand.

“The panel here,” you say as you slowly press on the seam that enables the settings panel to be revealed; you’re mindful to explain, “It controls sensory outputs, as well as synchonized synaptic commands. The panel on my forearm does the same to my hand, yours is just... well, you’ve got the new and improve version.”

Echo ducks his head as you work, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Feeling a bit jealous, mesh’la?”

“Maybe,” you breathe out with a smile.

Then, you lift your eyes. You intended to see that he was still comfortable, but instead you come face to face with the Corporal. His nose nearly brushes yours when you lift you chin, completely dragged in by the closeness shared.

There’s a beat of tension. Echo’s mouth goes dry.

You fingers pause. You swallow hard. “How... uh, how does it feel?”

Echo tightens his grip, then releases. His breath tickles your cheeks. His eyes, a deep, warm brown, flit from your eyes to your mouth, and then back. His voice is a croak.

“...Same as before.”

You tinker with a dial, eyes never leaving his; your voice is above a whisper. “And now?”

It’s immediate. Like a rush of cold air up his arm — and on instinct, Echo’s hand twitches. His fingers grip the fabric of his blacks, along his thigh, and... he feels it. The smooth, stretch of the material. It’s... it feels like a lot. His fingertips, metallic and cyberized, tingle. It’s distracting.

He can feel.

His hand is slow. It moves across to bridge the space between you. His pointer finger settles on the curve of your knee; the feeling of your tactical pants beneath his fingertip is ignored, instead he chases the heat of your body.

Your breath catches at the touch.

Echo’s face is turned to you, but... his attention has settled on his hand. His palm then sweeps across your thigh. He follows the curve, soaks in the feeling. You’re frozen in place, beating back the desperate sound of appreciation that threatens to be pulled from your throat. The touch is... more than welcomed.

The closeness itself is making you dizzy.

Then, Echo turns — and the warm, durasteel-plated palm finds your cheek.

Your skin is hot.

“Is this okay, mesh’la?” he whispers, words riding on a quiet exhale — the sort that make you feel... well, you don’t even have words for the way he makes you feel. Echo is... kind, honest, and loyal. Above all else, he’s gentle. Despite it all, despite every bit of horror he’d been put through, he’d never lost sight of the importance of a gentle hand. Especially now in a moment as intimate as this. It coaxes you closer.

You lean into the cybernetic attachment, cheek resting in his palm. You nod, then, with eyes eager to take in every bit of this moment.

He chuckles at the enthusiasm. Echo’s thumb, deft and smooth, then traces the line of your lower lip.

The feeling is... the gnawing pain that he’s felt for nearly a year has melted. Finally, the itch has been scratched in his brain and the hollow ache of his bones is gone. It’s relief, and comfort, and excitement and all these beautiful things — and you.

You’re stuck — you don’t want to move, you won’t move. He’s rooted you completely, and when his other hand — the calloused and warm one of flesh and blood — finds it’s spot along your thigh, you swallow a lovesick sigh that would only exaserbate your desperation.

Your mouth is moving before you realize it.

“What does it mean?”

Echo’s eyes narrow, only a bit, and he runs his thumb up your cheekbone.

“What does what mean?”

“Mesh’la,” it sounds foreign on your tongue. It’s not Hutteese or Twi’leki, not like any language you know, “Will you tell me what it means, Echo?”

The corner of his lips quirk. Your eyes jump to it.

You feel like someone’s reached right into your chest and given your heart a squeeze — and it only worsens when he laughs. He laughs, deep and quiet and warm, like a thunderstorm on a summer night. It feels cruel, to string you along like this when you’re here, lips parted, hanging off his every touch and his every word.

“Beautiful,” he says quietly as his other hand touches your jaw — it’s so damn reverent, this little moment in time, that you almost don’t believe it’s real.

It feels like a dream — like someone has come in and stolen your thoughts from you; like the unrequited yearning has finally stoked a fire large enough to burn you up entirely, a fever you never knew you wanted.

His nose brushes yours.

Your fingers wind into the fabric of his chest. You’re clinging, lost to the moment — and you can’t help wonder if this is how it feels when he catches you adoring him. He’s admiring you so tenderly that you nearly break.

You want to kiss him.

He’s thought about nothing but kissing you for the last five days at least. Longer in his dreams. Nowadays, it’s a constant pull, a constant want.

And now, it’s here — a present and current moment where it can happen. Where he can stop being a shiny cadet and he can make a move...

Enter Omega.

“Echo, we’re back—!”

The telltale hammer of a girl’s boots on the floor signals that the party is back from their supply run — but you’re so far off, spinning in a different universe, you don’t even hear her until its too late... Until Echo is yanking himself away and clearing his throat and rolling his wrist to test the prosthesis in a different way, a less intimate way.

You blink, then rattle yourself back to the present. Omega is in the doorway staring with a quizzical look. Clearly, your state does little to dissuade the assumptions she’s already making and you can see the gears turning in her head. The dark-haired girl then slowly grins.

“Hi.”

You swallow. “Hi, Omega.”

“...Whatcha guys doin’?”

Echo coughs. “Uh, just fine-tuning the new upgrade.”

“...Riiiiiight.”

You rub your cheeks and laugh — clearly forced and incredibly pained — as you stand up and nearly ram your head right into the top of Echo’s bunk. It’s met with a hiss of warning from the trooper as he jumps up to try and protect you from the impact.

“Well! Uh, thanks for letting me help, Echo,” you clap, rocking back and forth on your boots, “I, uh... Oh, Cid called. I should... I should get back—”

“Yea,” he says, straining a bit to find the words, “Yea, I’ll... I’ll comm you if it starts to, uh... If it starts to act up?”

Omega watches the exchange, big brown eyes moving from left to right.

“Good, great — yea, that’s,” you inhale as you rub your thighs and move towards the door, “Perfect. Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Bye!” Omega calls, waving.

You wave back, smiling. “Bye, Omega.”

Then, once it’s only Echo and Omega in the bunk, the tween speaks.

“...What the kriff was that?”

#HE IS A CORPORAL!!!!!#let echo say fuck #and omega #echo x reader #echo imagine #arc trooper echo x reader #echo/reader #echo/you #echo x you #tcw imagine #tbb imagine #sw imagine #the bad batch imagine #THANK YOU ANON WHO SENT ME THE UPDATED SPREADS #LOVE U ANGEL

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butwhyduh · 4 years ago

Note

NOW I wanna blow jason girl can you do an smut of giving jay jay a blowjob while he reads??

I mean- I did miss Friday

He sleeps like a bear. Flat on his back with soft snores that almost sounds like growls. You woke up before him. That was pretty common. He didn’t come in until 4 and was often bruised head to toe. But today he didn’t look that bad.

You rolled over and first looked at his face. A bandaid across the bridge of his nose and short hair growing on his face. He needed to shave. You smiled as he gave a little snore. His large chest rose and fell with his breath. The blankets were shoved to his waist. He was always running hot. There was no bandages here. That’s was always a good sign.

You looked at the little bit of hair on his chest and on his lower stomach. You ran a finger across the bit on his chest. He moved but didn’t wake as you played with his hair. You grinned remembering the one time that he tried to shave it and ended up with razor burn and a poky chest for days. He gave up immediately and decided that he was just too hairy for all that.

He moved a little bit more and you could tell by the way his chest moved that he was awake. You slid your hand a little lower and lower until you reached the blanket. You ran a finger along the edge near the band of his boxers and he shivered, a smile formed on his face.

“What are you doing?” He asked, looking at you with a side eye. His voice was rough and deep with sleep but he was definitely awake.

“Nothing,” you said before sliding your hand beneath the blanket to cup his already half hard cock in his boxers. He breathed in deeply.

“Feels like you are doing something, Princess,” he said and you grinned. You reached across him and he playfully tried to bite your side. You gave him a book from the side table and he looked at you confused. “What’s this?”

“You said you were going to lay around reading all day if I remember right,” you said.

“Well maybe not if you keep your hand there,” he said and you chuckled.

“Oh, well I don’t wanna ruin your plan. I can stop,” you went to move your hand and he grabbed it with his own and pressed you against him harder.

“Don’t,” he breathed.

“Well, are you gonna read to me?” You asked and he gaped at you.

“You have my dick in your hand and you want a story?” He asked and you nodded innocently. He groaned as you slipped a hand beneath his boxers to properly grip him.

“Yeah, read to me baby,” you said and he blinked a few times before starting. He cleared his throat.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair,” he read before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. You had moved between his legs and were kissing down his chest as you slowly pumped him.

“we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was- was,” he stuttered as you shifted his boxers down. “the period was, uh...”

“Are you stuck?” You asked looking up at him. You face was only a few inches from his painfully hard dick and Dickinson was the last thing on his mind.

“the period was so far like the present period that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received- fuck! Princess,” he groaned as you licked up his shaft. You stopped and looked at him expectantly. “for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only."

You put him in your mouth and swirled the tip. Jason stuttered his words again before continuing. He did good for about a paragraph or two before you took him deep in your mouth and his muscles flexed and he gulped. Usually he was swearing and gripping your hair but he couldn’t do that right now.

“It was the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that- that- holy fuck Princess, that mouth,” he whimpered. You grabbed his thighs as you bobbed your head along his length. You could feel that the muscles beneath your hands were as tight as bow strings. You stopped and looked up at him and he groaned before starting to read again.

“England at that favoured period, as at this. Mrs. Southcott had recently attained her five-and-twentieth blessed birthday,” he read in a disjointed breath. He started skipping places and reading non-sense. “Even the Cock-lane ghost had been laid only a round dozen of years, after rapping out its messages, as the spirits of this very year last past (supernaturally de-.”

“Fuck I’m close. Your mouth is- is something else,” he breathed. You lightly slapped one of his thighs and he jumped before realizing what your pointed look meant.

“Shit, uhh... the year of Our Lord one thousand seven hundred and seventy-five. Spiritual revelations were conceded to England at that,” he said in pants. You were surprised at his control. The fact that he could still read was impressive. You were really giving him a great blow job. You took him deep and gulped around him.

“Okay! I’m... fuck! I’m close,” he said and you kept going. You pulled back to take a breath and deep throated him again. “Shiiitt,” he gasped before calling out your name as he came. You swallowed before pulling off to kitten lick the tip. He jumped at every lick before finally grabbing your chin to pull you up.

Jason was sweaty and out of breath and he looked at you almost in reverence. He gently kissed you. “Fuck, Princess, you blow my mind every fucking time. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You giggled. “You’re always so sweet. You can just pay me back sometime.”

Jason chuckled. “Alright. I’ve gotto get back to being a functioning human first. You- uh, yeah. Wowza. But yeah I’ve got you,” he said pulling you tight to his side. “But if I’ve got to read all day...”

“Oh you wanna play that game? Keep this memory fond, Todd,” you said.

“No no no. I give up. Plus you knew I wasn’t going to leave you wanting, babydoll,” he whispered in your ear in a deliciously naughty voice. You shivered and hummed before being pushed to your back.

#Jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #Jason todd smut #red hood smut #batboy smut

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dameronology · 4 years ago

Text

you have my number {bucky barnes x reader}

summary: bucky barnes' memory is a little selective, thanks to all the brainwashing - but one thing he'll never forget is his love for you, even if you're a complete & utter pain in the ass. his ass. (based on deja vu by olivia rodigro)

^even tho this fic refers to bucky as having a new gf, the reader is still g.n :)

this is spoiler free! enjoyyy

- jazz xx

Your relationship with Bucky Barnes had been nothing short of a train wreck.

And frankly, that was putting it nicely.

It had been a short & passionate affair; intense and sweet and filled with so much emotion in such high concentrations that you'd both almost drowned in it. For every euphoric moment, there had been one so low that you'd scraped your knees on the ground. Climbing a ladder to heaven whilst simultaneously digging your own graves had taken its toll on you both, and eventually, you had no choice but to go your separate ways. It had been for your own sanity, really.

So there he was, tucked away in a neat little box in your brain, labelled don't touch, ever. Even when you were completely wasted, surrounded by your friends and their respective lovers, you never dared to venture back down that particular memory lane. Forgetting all the bad parts and selectively remembering the good parts was easy enough to do, but you had the common sense to remember why you'd broken up in the first place. Because Bucky Barnes, despite being easy on the eyes and having a charming sense of humour, was a pain in your fucking ass. He managed to press every one of your buttons without even trying and his ability to bring out the best in you was completely and entirely wiped out by his tendency to bring out the worst. That wasn't even getting started on his emotional hold-ups; a can of worms neither of you had dared to open until it became the very reason for your demise.

Six months had passed, and you'd managed to expertly avoid him. You worked different missions and Sam Wilson, god bless his sweet soul, went the extra mile to ensure your paths never crossed in a professional sense. On a personal level, however? That was a little more difficult. New York City felt a lot smaller after your break up. You found yourself occasionally ducking under your hood when you saw him on the F-train, or rushing to cross the road when you saw him coming towards you on the street.

That was when you had the whole city to lose yourself in; streets and shops and little food carts to distract yourself with should you need to. Being confined to the same room for a work party was a different story entirely, and one you didn't want to read. Yet, thanks to some insistence from your boss and a little grovelling from your colleagues, you found yourself rocking up to the former Avengers tower on a Friday night.

"So you do exist outside of your work uniform?" Sam Wilson greeted you with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah - nice to see you too, Wilson."

Despite your initial attempts to elbow him in the rips, he wrestled you off of him and pulled you into a tight hug. Sam was one of your favourite colleagues and oldest friends - he'd witnessed the rise and fall of your relationship with Bucky, and been there for you both during the break-up. That had been an exhausting few days, running between your respective apartments in an attempt to offer emotional support to you both.

"D'you want some champagne?" He asked.

"I'm good, but thank-"

You froze, eyes widening at the sight of James Barnes across the room. He looked quintessentially the same, bar for the fact his hair was a little longer and he had a fresh, pink scar under his left eye. Having ditched his usual attire for a black blazer, he looked good. Annoyingly so, in fact. It made you secretly grateful that you'd chosen to dress up a little more than usual too.

"- on second thoughts." You took the flute of champagne from Sam, also grabbing a shot of vodka from the same trey. It was gone in seconds.

"Need I ask?" Sam gave you a playful frown. His brown eyes followed your gaze over his shoulder, landing on the man you'd been staring at. "Ah. I need not."

"Sorry." You murmured. "We haven't actually spoken since, y'know."

"Since you had a break-up that made Ross and Rachel look good?"

"I don't think Bucky has ever seen Friends." You quipped.

"His loss." Sam shrugged. "You should talk to him."

"Nope." You snorted. "Absolutely not. I don't even know if he's moved on."

"Judging by the pretty blonde on his arm, I think he has," Sam replied. "Would you look at that! They're headed right for us."

That was a lot of information to process at once. You would have needed a week alone for your poor, tired brain to deal with the fact that Bucky had someone else on his arm, and a further three days to big yourself up enough to talk to him. Alas, that was not the case tonight. Instead, you had about five seconds between Sam finishing his sentence and your ex-boyfriend reaching you. It was just as well you found the energy within that timeframe to down your champagne.

You could see the woman on his arm clearer now. To give credit where credit was due, she stunning. She looked like the sort of girl who smelt of strawberries and Chanel, and grew her own vegetables on the fire escape. The kind of person you swore to be with every New Year that came, but quickly ditched after a week, returning to drinking coffee from the Starbucks under your apartment rather than going to the organic, vegan place a few blocks over. There was an ethereal glow about her and fuck. You were mad.

"Sam!" Bucky called out to his friend - for a minute, you thought he was ignoring you, before you realised he genuinely didn't recognise you. Your name rolled off his tongue with a tone of uncertainty, as though he was learning a new language and still learning how to pronounce things. "Wow. You look...different."

"So do you." You shot back. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Katie." He awkwardly smiled. "My...my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you." You forced an equally pained grin, taking her hand in a shake.

"How do you and Bucky know each other?" She asked.

"Work." Bucky quickly said. You thinned your eyes at him, almost in disbelief.

"So you're an Avenger like these two?" Katie asked, clearly not picking up on the tension. "That's so cool."

"Not in an official capacity." You replied. "But they'd be fucked without me."

The night only got longer from there, really.

There wasn't enough champagne in the world to help the void in your soul. It was a gaping wound that Bucky Barnes had both filled and widened - and tonight, he was doing the latter. It sounded as though him and Katie were having a grand ol' time of it. From the parts of the conversation that you'd actually bothered to listen to, you'd gathered that she'd arrived in New York from London just over three months ago. That meant she had a fucking accent. Of course she did. It made everything she said a thousand times more interesting.

"We were in Paris, in this little cafe. What was it called, babe? Maison de vie?"

"Maison de l'amour, doll." Bucky corrected her. It had only sounded right when he was calling you that.

Your eyes shot up from your drink, immediately staring daggers at them both. The slimy bastard. You had been the one to show him that place. You'd been in Paris for a mission, and after realising it was your four-month anniversary, you'd taken him there for pancakes. It had been a slow morning, filled with hazy eyes and pink skies, and it had ended with him dropping the L-bomb for the first time. The photo you'd taken of Bucky, sat beside a pile of pancakes the same size of him and with whipped cream on his chin, had been your phone background until the day you broke up.

"I've been there." You didn't break away from his gaze, holding cold blue eyes in a trance that he found to be almost suffocating.

"Oh, nice!" Katie beamed. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah." You sniffed. "The company was shit, though."

"Oh, man." She replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault." You gave her a sweet smile - to Bucky, it was a look of venom. "So, tell me more about your trip to Paris."

He quickly cleared his throat. "We didn't do much. Just a weekend getaway-"

"- are you forgetting that we saw Billy Joel?" Katie cut him off with a laugh. "The Billy Joel!"

"Right." It looked as though his mouth had gone completely dry.

"He told me he loved me for the first time to Uptown Girl-"

"-excuse me for a moment." You shoved your glass in her hand, before backing away from your little huddle.

Your brain was focused on getting away and only on getting away. The room suddenly felt a thousand times hotter, and a thousand times smaller too, as though the walls were closing in on you. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if they'd just collapsed around you and swallowed you fucking whole. Anything to get away from this situation.

Making a beeline for the balcony doors, you elbowed them open and stepped outside. The cold air of the rooftop gardens was a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors, biting, night air hitting your face like an icy hug. The sounds of the city rung below you - sirens and yells and tourists - and tangled into the faint sound of the music, all parts of a world that your brain was working overtime to block out.

You focused on the city instead, using the bright lights of the surrounding buildings to anchor you to reality. None of it really even made sense - you were over Bucky. Had been for a long time. It was just the thought of him doing all the things that he'd done with you, with someone else. It made you feel a little bad for Katie, too.

"I was going to tell you about Billy Joel."

You glanced over your shoulder, giving a derivative snort. "Piss off, Bucky."

"I'm serious." He ignored your demand, cautiously approaching you.

"I brought you those tickets!" You turned around to face him. "We were meant to go together. Billy Joel was our thing."

"We broke up!' He reminded you. "Like I said, I was going to tell you that we went together-"

"- I don't care." You cut him off. "I genuinely don't care."

"That was a lot of storming off for someone who doesn't care."

"Okay, maybe I care a little bit." You huffed, taking a seat on a bench. "It's not even that you're with someone else, it's that you're doing all the things we did. The nicknames, the pancake place, the concert."

"I..." Bucky took a seat beside you, pondering for a moment.

"And declaring your love for someone to Uptown Girl is fucking weird." You muttered.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Vienna, obviously."

"You're such a pain in the ass." Bucky replied. "But for what it's worth, I wasn't thinking of Katie in that moment."

You glanced up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"D'you remember that morning when we were in New Orleans?" He asked. "And we had a few hours to kill before our flight, so you started dancing around the hotel room to Uptown Girl?"

"I remember." You softly smiled.

"That was when I realised I loved you." He admitted. "I was replaying that in my head at the concert, and it just kinda came out, and Katie heard."

"Damn." You muttered. "Sucks to be her, huh?"

"I like Katie." He said. "Truth be told, doll, I'm still stuck in the past a little bit. With you, and with what we had."

"We fucking hated each other by the end, Buck."

"I know, but I mean all the stuff before that." He explained. "You were the first person who saw me for who I am and not what I've done. The first person that actually made me feel loved and worthy."

"I do try."

He lightly elbowed you "I'm serious. I think I'm just projecting my longing for what we had onto my current relationship."

"You're being painfully honest tonight." You observed. "It's fucking weird."

"Who taught me to be painfully honest?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "So this is how Frankenstein felt when he created his monster."

"You're the worst," Bucky muttered. "I genuinely am sorry, though. I shouldn't be recycling our memories. I should make new ones.'

Dusting off your trousers, you stood up. "You're right."

"Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For finding me first," He replied, "and for teaching me what love is."

"Well, if you ever need to be reminded? You have my number."

#why am i low key in love with katie?#i want a tall woman who smells of strawberries :(#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers fluff #avengers angst #avengers imagines #avengers imagine #marvel imagines #marvel imagine

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sserpente · 4 years ago

Photo

A/N: So this is a much requested Part II of this Christmas Imagine which I suppose you can also read on its own. Also has requests from @keepcalmandtravelonkate and @fandom-rpblog as well as the exclusive Zoom meeting idea. Haha, enjoy everyone! ♥

Words: 1822 Warnings: fluff

Christmas Eve came sooner than you had thought and it was about as cheerful as you had imagined it. Thor greeted you with mug of steaming hot chocolate first thing in the morning, wearing the ugly Christmas sweater you had bought him last year and Tony was already in the spacious living room with Pepper to finish up the preparations for his annual Christmas party.

You spent the entire day baking biscuits and didn’t see Loki all day but for some peculiar reason you hoped that he too would attend the biggest Christmas party in New York City. Tony had invited everyone—no, that was not entirely true, the party was, in fact, for everyone—especially those who had no one else to spend Christmas Eve with or wanted to do so with none other than the famous Avengers.

With a sigh, you finished applying your red lipstick and admired yourself in the mirror. The green dress shimmering like a thousand tiny crystals had cost you way more than what you would normally spend on clothes but the occasion was worth it. You had only realised after that green was Loki’s colour too. Another sigh escaped your lips.

The God of Mischief and you had not really spoken since the roof-incident. Part of you wondered whether he was about as confused as you about what had happened between you, especially after Thor had interpreted your entanglement in a romantic manner, the other insisted you didn’t think too much of it. Loki was just… Loki. Mysterious, mischievous and handsome. Wait… handsome?

By the time you arrived at the party, more than two dozen guests had already arrived. Dressed in Christmas pullovers, suits or festive dresses much like you, they held small glasses full of mulled wine, eggnog or champagne, munching on biscuits and other Christmas treats and chatting with each other and the superheroes who had already joined the party guests, impressing them with their stories and their skills.

Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted Loki standing only a few feet away from you. Heavens, he should not be allowed to wear suits. Instead of the light version of his Asgardian signature outfit you usually saw him in, the God of Mischief was dressed in an all-black suit complimenting his raven hair and tall figure. It was perfect to blend in and not attract too much attention, for many citizens still avoided him like the plague after everything that had happened only a few years back. Your eyes met, sending waves of electricity though you, and he nodded.

You furrowed your brows when somebody spoke your name. “Is that you?” Much to your dismay, you recognised the voice immediately. It belonged to Derek, your ex-boyfriend. Derek who collected action figures of the Avengers and who owned a Captain America costume worth five-hundred dollars. Derek, who had cheated on you with other women and, upon your break-up, had blamed you for the sexual imbalance in your relationship. Needless to say, you had not exactly ended it on good terms. The last thing you wanted to do was chat to him of all people on Christmas Eve. Much rather, you’d finally spend some time with Loki again. He was fun to be around once he had warmed up to someone…

“I tried to text you like… a hundred times.”

“I saw. I blocked your number after fifty.” You retorted.

“Don’t be like that. I was going to make up, you know.”

“You literally told me it’s my fault that you went ahead and fucked other women behind my back, Derek!”

“Because you didn’t give me what I need in the bedroom, baby. We should have talked about that more. It wouldn’t happen again. Let’s talk about this. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay… Care to dance with me then?”

“Absolutely not.” You hissed.

“Come on. You are not here with someone, are you?”

You blinked. Fuck. Think, think, think. “Yes, actually.” You lied quickly. Your eyes fell on Loki who met your gaze again in a strange and almost affectionate way—something had definitely changed between you since he had helped you decorate the Avengers facility and you remembered, with butterflies in your belly, how he had caught you in his arms when you had fallen off the roof like a bird with broken wings. The idea came to you before you could properly think it through. Derek would never dare to defy someone like Loki. He was your perfect alibi to get rid of him.

“I’m here with my boyfriend. You probably know Loki?” Before you could change your mind, you stepped forward, closed the remaining distance between you and put your arm under Loki’s. He did not fail to react. Turning away from Thor, he frowned and stared at your linked arms, then opened his mouth to question you. Much to your relief, however, the gesture did not seem to anger him.

You shot him a pleading glance. Play along, you thought. Please, take the hint.

“Are you serious right now?” Derek spat, a both disgusted and shocked expression on his face.

Much to your surprise—or maybe not—Loki wrapped his arms around your middle then, pressing you against his strong body. Your heart skipped a beat. This felt like him cradling you in his arms like a bride, only more… intense, for this time—this time, it was actually intentional.

Loki gave Derek a glare, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “Are you alright, my sweet mortal?” My sweet mortal? “I believe you have promised me a dance.”

Derek swallowed, blinking at you a few times—and then, without a word, he shook his head and disappeared in the burbling and dancing crowd. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Good thing for you he’d always been a coward.

But while relief was flooding your veins, at the very same time, adrenaline set every single cell of your body on fire. Loki was still holding you. His lips against your skin had felt like the gentle kiss of a butterfly… You looked up, if anything not to make the situation even more awkward than it already was, given that by now, both Thor and Natasha had become rather taken aback witnesses as well.

“Thank you. I really owe you.” You muttered.

“I take it this was a former suitor of yours?”

You gave him a weak smile. “That’s a very elegant way to put it but yes, he is my ex-boyfriend. I left him when I found out he cheated on me—repeatedly. I panicked when he approached me and I knew he’d be scared of you.”

“Why thank you.” Loki replied with dismay before, much to your surprise, a smirk grew on his lips.

“No! I just meant…”

“I know what you meant. So?”

“S-so what?”

“He is still watching you. You would do well to keep up the act.” Loki said, keeping you from spinning around to check. But he was probably right either way. You had just announced in front of a bunch of strangers as well as your ex-boyfriend and two Avengers that Loki and you were dating. You were honestly surprised the Trickster did not at all seem too bothered by this very circumstance, not to mention what it meant for you. Ever since the roof-incident, you certainly didn’t mind clinging onto him like that.

“Dance with me.” He commanded softly, one of his large hands coming to rest on your waist while the other interlinked with yours. “He will lose interest if you feign easiness.”

You nodded quickly, leaning into him to not raise any suspicion and taking a deep breath when the side of your face connected with his chest. Loki rested his chin on the top of your head, weighing you gently from side to side as if the music was made of waves carrying you over an ocean. It was a classic playing right now—What are you doing New Year’s Eve by Ella Fitzgerald—sweet, calm… romantic. This evening was going in a very dangerous direction now but you couldn’t help but feel safe and protected in the God of Mischief’s arms. Who would have thought that putting up Christmas decoration together would create such a strong bond between two people… a mortal and a god on top of that?

“I got you a Christmas present, you know.” You murmured after a while.

His voice vibrated in his chest, you could feel it against your cheek. “Did you now?”

“Hmm…” He stole away your ability to speak. That was so unfair! “I was going to give it to you tomorrow morning but… would you like me to give it to you now, in private?” It would be the perfect excuse to get away from here for a bit too, even if, in better lighting, Loki would probably notice your blushed cheeks.

“Lead the way, my sweet mortal.” There it was again. Smiling up at him sheepishly, you moved a step back and took his hand, practically fleeing from the scene.

Loki remained in the doorway when you reached your room. Whether it was out of decency or respect, you couldn’t quite tell. You crossed your room with quick steps, reaching for Loki’s gift under your bed. You had wrapped it in green paper and decorated it with a golden bow. A bit of a cliché perhaps but it looked just perfect.

“Merry Christmas, Loki.” You said when you returned to him and handed it to him. He only took it hesitatingly.

“Why did you get me a gift?”

You shrugged. “I just wanted to be nice. I doubt the others will have gotten you something so I thought… just so you can unwrap something too?” You almost choked on your nervous laughter. “You know I almost decided not to give it to you after all after you almost drove me mad when I was hanging up the Christmas lights.”

Loki chuckled. “I suppose you made that consideration before I saved your life.”

“More or less...” You replied, winking at him. Hey… this isn’t so hard after all!

Your heart was pounding in your chest by the time he unwrapped it, revealing the notebook and the green and gold fountain pen you had gotten him. It even came with green ink.

“It’s not much, really, just…” You said quickly. “I keep seeing you scribbling and reading a lot and I thought…”

“Thank you.” He interrupted. Honesty swung in his smooth voice, making your heart beat faster in an instant. At this speed, you were going to need an ambulance soon.

You smiled. “I ought to thank you. Derek is a dick. You saved me twice now, I’m in your debt.”

Loki chuckled once more, looking you deeply in the eye. “Yes. I believe you are.” It was, without a doubt, a promise.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente

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szallejhscorner · 3 years ago

Note

Reader telling Niragi “you’re so handsome, but such an asshole” slight angst but Gondor whatever feels right for you😅

A Niragi request? Now that's something new! (:And after the last two chapters of Messy, I am so ready for a slightly less cruel Niragi.

And I'm sure the Gondor was an autocorrect mistake, but you can't do this and not expect me to drop a LotR-hint inside.

Thank you for the ask! Stay safe x3

It’s not always the best idea to get up late and miss breakfast. The buffet has already been roamed, leaving nothing but bread crumbs and the smell of pancakes in the air, so your only hope is to find something eadible in the kitchen.

The fridges are almost empty except some useless stuff that you’d never eat even if you were starving, but you find some cereals that look not too bad. And there’s even a bit of homogenized milk left, which is still a thousand times better than water or milk powder. You search the whole kitchen for some fruit-leftovers, but all you can find are chocolate flakes. You’ve had worse, and lunch will be prepared somewhen in the next two hours anyway.

“How many breakfasts did you already have today?”

You turn around with the bowl on your hand, milk dripping from the spoon, while the laughing voice automatically lets you take a step back. This man is definitely the last person you’d want to be alone with, and still... you have caught yourself thinking about him and looking after him several times now.

Niragi leans against the counter, this time without his precious rifle. It is a rare occasion to see him without that weapon, but it doesn’t make you feel safer around him. This isn’t the reason a part of you is scared of this man.

“The first.” You hold your fingers tightly around the bowl and take another step back, but Niragi imitates the move immediately. He does this weird thing with his tongue again, where he sticks it out as if to show the piercing on it, and like always, you can’t decide if it’s disgusting or fascinating. Maybe both.

“Ahh, I think you’re lying to me.” He chuckles lowly and reaches for the empty milk carton and begins to read it like a newspaper. “What about that little snack you had, around... what was it? Five in the morning?”

There’s nothing wrong with being hungry in the middle of the night, and you don’t know what’s weirder - the fact that Niragi must have seen you then or that he deems it important enough to talk about it, and you shrug. “That was a midnight snack.”

While you want to take another step back, you suddenly feel something cold in your back and realize that you have arrived at the opposite wall. The fridges won’t budge and with the sink to one side and a counter to the other, there’s no way past Niragi now, who calmly draws nearer to you.

“It’s not a midnight snack when it’s not midnight.”

“Why is that important, anyway?” you ask, irritated about the topic. Your stomach growls so loud that Niragi has to hear it too, but the bowl of cereals rests in your hands untouched.

Niragi tucks a strand of his sleek black hair behind the ear, and the grin doesn’t vanish from his face. “It’s not. But I like to see how such a simple topic like breakfast is able to intimidate you so much.”

He is so close to you now that he could easily touch you if he stretched out his hand, and your hearbeat increases at the thought. You’d want that, but at the same time, you’re so afraid of what would happen. And the topic definitely isn’t what intimidates you.

“That’s not...” you swallow, and with him being so close, you can even smell his aftershave. The piercings covering his face glint in the lights of the kitchen, and he’s so tall...

Suddenly, Niragi reaches for the bowl and takes it out of your hand. You don’t even protest, too startled to do anything while he places it on the counter next to you. There goes your breakfast. Now there’s nothing standing between Niragi and you anymore, not even a small bowl of cereals. You have to put your head back to look into his face, and your body is both hot and cold while you still can’t decide if you want to be here or not.

“Aww, don’t be so scared, little Hobbit.”

“I’m not a Hobbit. I don’t have hair on my feet”, you answer and blush immediately after. What a stupid thing to say! But Niragi bursts out laughing and pokes your stomach with his index finger. “But you’re small enough for one and sure will be fat enough as well if you continue to have several breakfasts a day.”

This makes you snort and you cross your arms in front of your chest. How dare he insult you just like that? Your body is perfectly fine, and Niragi can clearly see that as well. He’s just mocking you for no reason, and you almost stick your tongue out to him. “How can someone so handsome be such an asshole as well?”

The laugh fades, but the grin doesn’t leave Niragi’s face. He bends down to you, so close to you that your noses almost touch. You still have to crane your neck to see him, and it slowly begins to hurt. But being so close to him, numbed by the look in his eyes and by his sheer presence...

“Oh, so you think I’m handsome, yeah?”

You swallow again. The fabric of his shirt brushes against your hands, and you can feel the warmth emerging from his skin. “And an asshole”, you add with a breathless voice, barely loud enough for him to hear.

Niragi humms and comes even closer, although you didn’t think that would be possible. You press the palms of your hands against his chest in a desperate attempt to push him away, although he barely notices it. He’s so close now that you can feel his breath on your lips, and with no doubt is he able to hear your own racing heartbeat. This mixture of fear and desire is too much.

His voice is nothing but a whisper as well now, and he’s perfectly aware of what impact it has on you. “And does it frighten you?”

There’s no use in pushing him away, but your hands remain on his chest. You can feel his heartbeat, calm and solid and not at all shaken like you are. Although you didn’t want to admit it, your head moves up and down in a nod, wich only makes Niragi chuckle again.

“Yes. Yes, you are.” His hands move to the sides of your head, move through your hair with more gentleless than you would have given him credit for, and the tip of his thumb draws patterns on your temple. Fire burns where his hand touches you, and you’re breathing so fast and shallow now that it makes you feel dizzy. “And you should be; clever little thing, aren’t you.”

Before you can even realize what happens, you feel his lips on yours. They’re warm and demanding, pressing against you with so much force that it almost hurts. You give in to his demand, feel the metal of his piercing against your own tongue while you forget to breathe. It seems that Niragi’s grip is the only thing keeping you upright, and then, all of a sudden, it’s gone.

Niragi eyes you as if nothing had ever happened, while you try to calm down the heat that streams through your whole body and end the tremble in your hands.

“We have to continue this at some point.” He sticks out his tongue one last time before he turns around and strolls out of the kitchen as cool as ice.

You want to continue this, but at the same time, your knees turn into pudding at the mere thought of it. This won’t end well for you, and yet... you can’t turn your eyes off the back of this man.

#niragi #niragi suguru #suguru niragi #niragi x reader #reader x niragi #oneshot

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ncitygirls · 3 years ago

Text

eternal - jaemin x f reader

fluff, smut, vampire!jaemin, 2.2k

he had yet to utter a word since his confession, and neither had you, though you had tried piecing together a worthy response. he simply watched you as you watched him, your eyes focusing on each delicate ridge in his skin, admiring his nonexistent pores; how the thin slithers of light that broke through the poorly drawn curtain, shone on a bend from the ends of his bangs down and around his chin. a kind reminder of what you swear you have always known, but regret to have never questioned.

“jaemin?”

“my love?”

“have you always been this beautiful?’

he had to admit he was taken back. those are the first words you have said in a long while. they are your first words since he told you three minutes and twenty-five seconds ago - he was counting, not actively, but over time his mind has created room for his thinking to expand, to surpass humanity’s understanding of thought, and most times he welcomes it. but not at times such as these - where he knows he told you three minutes and twenty-five seconds ago, and your first words are in awe of him.

“i told you i am undead.. and that is what troubles you?”

“your beauty is far from troubling,” you retort, eyes still inspecting his face. jaemin’s mind wanders back to when he once pitied humans. how they thought what they saw was really seeing. victims of an already limited life, the human eye is only able to pick up a fraction of their sublime reality. yet the way your eyes traverse each of his features, as if to commit them to memory, he surely found a compelling reason to admit their eyes were not so lacking. “was it the bite that made you so handsome?”

“i wasn’t bitten,” he corrects, as the pads of your thumbs sweep over his cold knuckles, your touch casting a reverence over the scene. he lets out a pretty laugh at your assumption, the soft crease between your brows forming as he destroys your fictional understanding of his kind. “humans have always had a skewed understanding of our lore.”

“so your mother and father were vampires?”

“no.” it has been some time since he has had to explain vampiric lore to a human, but his mind retains his memory of it all the same. “it is not dissimilar to what humans call possession? or a spell? it is a combination of the two.”

“did it hurt?”

jaemin cannot help but melt at the notes of concern lacing your tone. it is his turn to pass his thumb along your knuckles before flipping your hand over, letting his finger trace a swirl in your palm, offering a soft shake of his head. “it makes one feel queasy, a consequence of the change in dietary needs.”

your hand stiffens beneath his touch as your eyes drop to examine them. he fears he has spoken out of turn, pushed the astonishingly pleasant conversation down a dark hole. jaemin once believed humans to be predictable, but you continue to challenge that. “is that why my invites to have you for dinner always go unanswered?”

“i knew that wounded you, angel.”

“it did no such thing!” his chin drops, eyes boring into you in a successful attempt to lure the truth out of you. he immediately softens when you exhale, in defeat of his gaze or distaste at your transparency, he does not know. jaemin would soften all the same. “i will admit, i did make assumptions to make sense of your refusal.”

“did you think i preferred not to visit?” you had never noticed the flecks of red in the perimeter of his irises until now. they glowed slightly, as if enraged, though you know not with you. “there are rules we must follow when entering a new space, silly, unchangable rules.” his frown deepens when you nod, always understanding even when you shouldn’t. “i apologise if I hurt you, angel.”

“hush now, you need not apologise.” you’re proven right when his eyes return to the perfect colour you remember them for: a golden swirl moving within the rich cocoa, shining only as the light hits it. relief floods him when he rests his forehead on your own. he grips your hips firmly, swaying you both as you call for him.

“jaemin, what is it you do eat?”

“pretty girls named y/n.” oh how he wished you would have laughed then, instead of him opening his eyes to find your horror stricken face. “i swear to you that was a joke. that was in poor taste, i am so sorry.” you find his apology hard to believe as his body shakes, shaking your whole frame along with him.

“do not,” you hit his arm once, “mock,” and a second time though ineffective, “me!”

he saves himself quickly, retreating to safety by putting an unrealistic amount of distance between you two in an inexplicable amount of time. when he abandoned you, you nearly collapse forward with the force you were using to hit him before catching yourself.

“come here.”

“i drink blood.” you did not particularly dislike his attempt to stay on topic, just the topic itself. you try to appear enlightened but you have always found it difficult to repress your repulsion. “i know you have no interest in the macabre.”

“blood is meant to be inside you.”

“i think it tastes great.” he quickly arrives in front of you, your open books and abandoned letters fluttering all over the room as his speed garners its own winds. his thumbs journey over the veins on your wrists, slowly trailing up your forearms. he only speaks again when he hooks his thumbs under your jaw, tilting your head to allow his teeth to graze over the column of your neck. “it is reminiscent of fruit. some blood is like grapefruit and lemon. while some are akin to grape, strawberries.”

“oh,” you sigh, heart slowing as his lips drag along the base of your throat. he pulls back, gazing longingly at your wonderment as you feel his mood swing. bitterness seeps into his eyes in how his taste for blood ironically remains the only provision of some kind of memory of flavour, of normality. “do you enjoy it?”

“blood?”

“being a vampire.” no one has ever asked him such a thing. is there anything to enjoy about eternal life? about reliving his youth, being relocated, remade, renewed over and over and over, for an eternity.

as he gazes down at you, he remembers with all the bad must come some good.

“not always,” he smiles knowingly, thinking of his friends. the lives they built for themselves over a combined millennia. it almost makes him retract saying that. “i do regret some things. like allowing haechan to convince us to help real witches free the falsely accused during the witch trials. only to later discover he had a wager on being able to free more than their coven could.” he loved the way your eyes followed along, he loved knowing he could finally share his life in its entirety with you. “i have a thousand reasons why i should hate it, but I cannot bring myself to.”

“why?” he will find a way to forgive himself for giving you a reason to ask. he will ensure you needn’t ask again.

“because,” he whispers into your mouth, his lips slipping between your own, fingers clasped behind your neck. “if i had died in 1625, i would not have had the honour of making your acquaintance.”

“this is hardly an acquaintance,” you remind him, counting his years in your head as he pulls you flush against him utilising less than a speck of his strength. “careful grandsire,” it tumbles from your lips as he licks against your mouth. “i am not sure a man even three hundred years your junior could make it through what you are starting.”

“you needn’t worry about me,’ he sighs, his groin rolling against your own, his fingers clinging to your breakable frame. “though i must confess, my eating pretty girls named y/n was not said solely in jest.” his fingers toy with your knickers, ice cold digits moving freely along the waistband. “in fact, i fear my sanity depends on it. might you be of some aid?”

“who am i to deny a man nearing his fourth century?” he begs himself not to laugh, if only not to kill the mood but more so to avoid dignifying your mockery. his laughter morphs quickly into pants, your hand slotted wickedly between his own and his groin. “how might i be of assistance to you?”

“just as you are,” he whispers, his dulled teeth passing dangerously along the shell of your ear. as a man of his years, patience isn’t something which he is in short supply. but even then, one grows tired of waiting, for coitus, for love, for you. he is quick to remove your hand, finding his own pacing as he presses you against the wall, your heat pulsing beneath his cock, practically leaking. “i forgot how pliant humans are,” it is wicked how he watches you, his fingers rolling your hardened nub betwixt their pads. you shudder at the sight of him, his golden eyes darkening in the sunlit room, his tongue passing over his sharpened teeth. he smirks as you hiss, his fingers pinching your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. his tongue rolls in time with his hips, running his clothed cock along your clothed folds. he is quickly reminded of his strength as his palm collects dust as it meets the wall with a thud, steadying himself as you whine deliciously, his name bleeding from your raw lips. “yes, angel?”

“i need you,” you breathe, gazing up at him as his lips capture yours. your tongues move in tandem, wrapping around the other in a hypnotic frisk. he swallows your whimpers as he lures them out of you. he sucks your tongue into his mouth, hands moving to your rear before lifting you from the ground. he makes little work of you, rendering you a quarter of your size. your ankles lock around his waist as he casts your knickers aside, hissing as the pad of his finger meets your folds.

“might i have a taste now?” he pleads, eyes burning a fiery amber, pure adoration hidden beneath. “please, angel?”

“take all of me, jaemin.” he holds you still, a metre from the ground as he kneels, his hands firm around your thighs before he lowers you over his mouth. his flat tongue licks long stripes up your cunt, tongue flicking along your hooded clit in his descent. he likens you to a spring, his soul knelt before you, preparing an offering to your fountain. he is ready to collect all you offer him, your essence pouring out onto his tongue, soaking his lips, slick down his chin. his eyes fall to a close at the sight of your dazed form, your eyes screwed shut in prayer, his lips puckering around the hood of your clit, the tip of his tongue rolling against the nerve. “jaemin, right there, please.”

he hums in accordance, his tongue circling your clit as your thighs shake on either side of his head. he smirks as you still, his middle and ring finger entering your warm cavern, forcing your hips to roll against his digits. he curves them slowly, pressing against your pink walls, bulging up against your stomach. “you are so fragile,” he says, lips bitten as he watches your body succumb to his touch. he leans closer to you, steadying you on his shoulders to free his hand. he presses his palm to your abdomen, hypnotised by the feeling of his own fingers inside you. letting his thumb drift down, he pulls up the skin hiding your clit, allowing his lips to pucker against the nub before he offers a hard suck. his tongue joins the fold, drinking you in as you let out a sharp cry, the pressure inside and out joining forces to send you over the edge. “when you’re ready, love, come.”

he can feel your skin burning up, see the sheen of sweat coating your entire body. “jaemin,” you continue to chase your high, but cling to the moment. you feel like your convulsions might snap your body in two. that pleasure such as this cannot exist innately, that only he can bestow it on you. you are proven right as you grow more frantic, his fingers rub against the spot inside you that he found with great ease, as his lips suck on your clitoris. the final straw is his gaze, you feel it and fall victim to it. his irises a bright, angelic white, the rim speckled in gold. one cast of your eyes on your lover and you snap.

there is no doubting that as jaemin gazes up at you, he sees glory eternal. he sees life. he sees an angel.

“come angel.”

and you do. jaemin’s simple command breaks a dam, summoning a flood of pleasure you are unsure you will survive. hot iron passes through your veins, lighting you from the inside out. he continues without thought, his lips sucking the pleasure out of you, his fingers still pounding into your swollen pussy. only when your fingers find his hair, pulling him away with a sharp tug does he concede, lowering you into his lap.

“hi,” he says after some time, watching you pant against the wall. “are you still with me?” he jests, palms gliding up and down your aching thighs.

you hum, gazing up at the golden orbs that you decide you mustn’t live without. much like his life, and much like your love. eternal. “always.”

#not a yours pt 2 but a lil sumn to keep you nana stans fed #injun stans.... i see u i hear u i ignore u #na jaemin #jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #jaemin au #jaemin smut #nct fluff #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct au #another post i stole from my other page oooops inspo come to me pls

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years ago

Text

deancas highschool au, 1.8k.

dean's pretty sure it all comes down to being sam's fault.

kid had walked into their last scooby doo marathon without warning at eleven friggin' pm, startling both cas and him (because they watch scooby doo like it's meant to be watched — with all their concentration, goddammit) and consequently causing dean to knock over the bowl of popcorn and get its contents all over (and some inside) the couch.

fast forward from there to the next time dean asked mary if cas could sleep over, and her immediate condition being that they conduct the grand bingewatch (a necessary element of the dean-cas sleepovers) in dean's room instead of the living room, as she could not possibly handle finding more popcorn under the cushions of the damn sofa than she'd already been fishing for, the last two weeks.

so there.

it is absolutely and indisputably sam's fault that dean is right now half-propped up in bed next to his best friend, with a laptop on his lap and fellowship of the ring playing on it, unable to think about anything except the way their arms press against each other, knees brush, and cas's head ends up looming too close to dean's shoulder to not be resting on it.

oh, and how good cas looks in the almost-dark, lit by whatever's happening — dean knows exactly what's happening — on the screen.

just because.

it's past two — which translates to way too late for a gay awakening o'clock — but dean's pretty sure if his heart keeps beating at this rate till morning, he's going to wake up in an ambulance.

this has never happened before. being this conscious of wherever they're touching, this excited about it, or this intent on stealing glances when he's sure he won't be caught. (okay, maybe that one's happened before but it's beside the point.) put together, it is alien and disconcerting.

and dean's not an idiot. he knows — he thinks he knows what's happening. and he knows it's not supposed to feel like a switch flipping because these things — and that's about all of the clarity he can afford — happen over time. and yet it's like he's walked headfirst into a wall on this weird, weird night.

the only thing he knows for sure is that he's never felt this way before. not towards cas, not towards anyone.

well, there's also never been an anyone (else).

but screw semantics — dean's terrified.

and it's entirely sam's fault, obviously, which is why the next time dean sees the little bastard, he's going to —

"dean."

it's cas, interrupting his very subtle, manageable breakdown in his endearingly familiar why-aren't-you-already-paying-attention-to-me voice.

dean hits pause, pressing the spacebar and turning to face his cas-shaped dilemma in the eye. "what, you sleepy already?"

"of course not." cas's tone is haughty, like one of somebody who hasn't been the first one asleep in a single sleepover in the past. dean takes the blow with grace, because he friggin' deserves that. he's been ashamed of himself every, single, morning-after. "i was just wondering if the movie," cas tilts his head towards the screen. "isn't disturbing your parents or your brother. i don't think we've ever watched anything past midnight in your room before."

trust me, dean's brain supplies, i know.

but cas does have a point. there's plenty of loud noises in lotr, and the walls aren't particularly thick. and the last thing he wants right now is for dad to come see why they're not asleep yet, and find them friggin' huddled together on a single.

not that dean minds it.

"well," dean frowns. "what do you suggest? it is sorta late to switch to sleepover games, by the way, if you were planning on saying 'never have i ever'."

"we could use your earphones." cas says, like it's the most obvious thing. "and neither of us ever win in 'never have i ever', dean. or lose, actually. we know each each other too well. why would i suggest that?"

but dean's already stuck on a previous part of cas's sentence. "m-my earphones?"

cas blinks at him. "yes?"

dean swallows.

"unless you want to play 'never have i ever'?"

dean swats at cas for that, which the latter tries to dodge by pushing dean with both hands, until dean's wriggling and swearing at him to stop trying to put him through the wall because either they really are cosied up in that little space, or being in the middle of a really important realization makes you go soft on your opponent.

when cas finally lets dean go with a self-satisfied grin, dean only falters for a moment before planting the laptop on cas indelicately and knee-waddling to the end of the bed to get to his desk.

he finds his extremely well-used black earphones soon enough and returns to his spot, where cas shifts hardly an inch to give him his due space, resulting in dean well and truly sandwiched between the wall and cas, because his best friend is a jackass like that. and of course, the only reasons dean leans further towards cas with practised annoyance etched on his face is because it's the kind of annoying he's supposed to be, and it's october and the wall is cold.

cas, on the other hand, is really not.

"what are you waiting for?" cas grumbles, eyes squinty at dean in the dark, and dean makes a face at him, plugging it in (without needing to look, not that he'd've been able to see a thing in the dark anyways), and offering cas the left earplug.

which cas promptly puts in his left ear — the one that's farther away — because he's cas, and things like which earplug is meant for which ear, matter to him.

dean friggin' loves him.

and it's some time after dean's put the right one in his left ear — because he's not cas is why, and their heads are close enough already — and they've hit play and settled into the comfortable silence of watching a movie they've both seen at least five times in the past and dean's actually begun to pay attention, that he absolutely freezes in his metaphorical tracks, the entire world stuttering to a halt as he tries to register that last thought.

he loves cas.

he said it to himself. he said he loved him.

and that's just goddamn it.

he loves cas.

dean's eyes flit to cas, who's watching the movie without having any life-altering revelations, stuffing his mouth full of popcorn every five minutes (a habit dean can proudly claim to have been responsible for fostering in the first place), not smiling but with a corner of his lip pulled up like he ends up unconsciously doing whenever he's really paying attention, his profile only half-lit with colors, and his closeness suddenly so incredibly flustering.

yeah, well. you've known it for a while, the voice in dean's head that's not exactly his, returns. haven't you?

and maybe he has.

or maybe he hasn't, and it really does feel like a switch flipping for some people. people like him who're zoning out watching lord of the rings one moment, and smitten with their best friends the second.

it doesn't really matter either way, does it?

it's 2:37 am when dean turns his head to the movie again.

inarguably far too late for anything to matter to dean other the fact that he knows. the fact that he knows that he's in love with cas. and the fact that he is.

(maybe he can think of ways to ask him out tomorrow.

or next week.

or maybe he'll chicken out a thousand times until he finally ends up stuttering his way through a severely practised-in-the-mirror confession eight months later, and cas will smile that smile he reserves for dean, and say he can't make it friday because of astronomy club, and dean'll blush even harder because he knew that, he knows that dammit, and then cas will suggest thursday instead, and thursday will be too soon and way too terrifying and just perfect. and then they'll live happily ever after.)

but dean's got all the time in the world to sort out — read: lose his shit over — the maybe's.

right now? being in love with cas is enough.

and being here, watching the last sixteen minutes of one of their mutually favorite movies in bed with his best friend and love of his life, is perfect.

dean does end up falling asleep first, yet again, cause turns out achieving self-awareness and spontaneous living-in-the-moment prowess don't do shit to help with being less of an embarrassment.

but this time, he gets to wake up with an arm slotted around his waist, and a warm castiel curled up close behind him, still fast asleep and breathing in light puffs down dean's tshirt, so maybe, just maybe, he doesn't have to chalk this one up as a loss after all.

doesn't mean cas still won't be a smugfaced little shit about it though.

but then, that's probably one of the things dean winchester loves about him anyway.

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lordabovehelpme · 4 years ago

Text

The Proposal- Din Djarin x Reader

Request: Din proposing to Reader like in the movie The Proposal 😆- @along-the-lines-of-space

A/n: Wait! This is such a cute idea. I kinda strayed from the movie plot and made my own, so hopefully, you like it! I love you, darling!!!

Summary: You and the Mandalorian have to play husband and wife to capture your next bounty. But major things start to show and come to light.

Warnings: some foul language. But that’s it. :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t you walk all menacingly like! I had no other option!” You storm after the broody Mandalorian, your hands waving in the air as they try to demonstrate your thoughts.

He just growls as he continues walking to the ship.

“Did you have a better idea?” You give him a minute to respond and when he says nothing, you lift your head a little higher. “No, just what I thought. All I care about is the fact that we are going to get this bounty thanks to me!”

He twirls around suddenly and stalks towards you. Instinctively, you want to shy away and you have to bite down a squeak. But you keep your ground and glare right into his visor, hoping his stupid eyes will feel your hatred.

The abyss of his visor stares hard and cold into your soul. And you stare back. Hard.

But he just sighs and turns away. For whatever reason, this just makes you even madder.

“No, you don’t get to walk away! Come back here!”

Then he speaks for the first time in the past hour.

“Get on your knee.”

Your face recoils in confusion, “What?”

He turns around and looks at you with a hidden smirk. “If you want to marry me, then ask. Get. On. Your. Knee.”

Your mouth hangs open in shock at the audacity of him.

“No.”

“Looks like we’re out two thousand credits then.”

Cursing, you hate that he’s right. You both need this money. Greef had said that if you wanted this high of a bounty then the two of you would have to somehow get to the bounty's wedding. In a sudden burst of creativity, you declared that the two of you would play a newlywed couple. You’ve never seen his helmet turn so quickly.

You seethe as you fall to your knee. “I hate you.”

“That’s not the right word, dear.” He stands smugly as he puts emphasis on the pet name. His arms cross over his chest and he leans his weight onto one leg.

You mentally stab him about five times before sighing. “Mando…”

He hums, amusement laced in his voice.

“Will you,” a smirk works its way onto your face, “the love of my life, my sweet sweet puppy. I will never be able to live without you.”

His weight shifts back to be centered.

“I cannot go another day without asking you this.” Your hands clutch over your heart as you bat your eyelashes at him.

“Get on with it.” The amusement is no longer there.

“Will you make me the happiest person in the world and…” You intentionally stop, seeing just how long you can draw this out before he snaps.

“Ask the god damn question.”

Ah, not as long as you thought. But alas, the show must go on. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, now get up and walk faster. Maybe if you run you can keep up.”

***

All those couples you see smiling at each other make marriage look like a dream come true.

But these past few days have been hell. Literal hell.

Clinging to his arm and smiling as people talk to you. Having to hold his gloved hand that is way too large to be anatomically correct. Making up scenarios of how you both met, of your first kiss, of your own wedding day.

If the ground opened up and swallowed you, you’d probably say thank you.

As for now, you’re sitting next to him at the large table you’re all having the rehearsal dinner at. Surprisingly, the bounty seems to be a nice guy. You can tell he loves his soon-to-be husband, and that he loves him as well. You’d never think that he used to be an imperial spy.

“Oh, you two are so cute!” An older lady from across the table smiles at you.

You smile back and thank her, squeezing the Mandalorian’s arm. His visor turns to look at where you did, then rises up to meet your gaze. His hand moves over and squeezes your thigh.

Grabbing his wrist, you bring his hand back above the table and offer the lady another smile.

She giggles and leans forward, “You have as much fun as you want, I won’t tell.”

It takes everything in you not to cringe as you slowly nod your head and turn back to the Mandalorian.

His shoulders slightly shake and you just know he’s softly laughing under that helmet.

“Don’t laugh.” You whisper at him.

“But honey, why don’t we go back and have some fun.”

You glare at him, but then you get his idea. “Shhh, don’t say it so loud.” You both rise from the table and slide outside the restaurant, but not without the older lady sending you another wink.

As soon as the fresh air nips at your skin, you lean over in loud laughter. “Oh my goodness, I can’t.”

His vocoder cracks as his own laughs filter through. It’s a strong handsome laugh, one that is contagious and makes you stare at him with awe. In all honesty, you weren’t sure he knew how to laugh.

***

A knock sounds on your door and you rise up immediately. Crap! Mando is on the floor, that won’t look good to anyone. Grabbing anything you can, you throw it at the sleeping warrior.

Thump!

The first pillow does nothing.

Thump!

The second heavier one makes a louder sound but still draws no response from him.

The knocks sound again.

“Coming, just one second!”

You grab whatever you can and…

Clank!

You cringe as the water bottle hits him directly on the helmet.

He instantly rises and then the knocks sound again. Catching onto the problem, he stands up and starts throwing everything back on the bed.

You mean to help, but those strong golden thighs distract you. What you would give to be able to run your hand over those muscles and feel them ripple beneath your touch.

What you would give?

Nothing! You hate him! He’s annoying and snores loudly.

Shaking your head, you make the bed presentable and pretend to have just woken up as he opens the door.

“Hi!” The bounty’s fiancé peaks his head in. “Just wanted to let you all know that my mom made cinnamon rolls, I would get down there before they are gone. He offers a smile to you before walking back out into the hall.

You have no idea why, but the fiancé has taken a liking to the two of you. It almost makes you sad to collect his husband.

The Mandalorian turns to you and starts to grab his clothes and armor, dressing himself.

Suddenly you realize that if you both go down he’ll be unable to eat the cinnamon rolls. You play with the end of your shirt, the edges fraying from many years of you sleeping in it. “You know…” his visor looks up to you, “I can go get a couple and bring them back. That way you can try one and I’ll take a shower.”

Why did you say that? He’s not going to care. He’ll probably just laugh at you. In fact, why do you care?

He slowly nods his head after a minute. “That’d be nice.”

***

The hot water pours down onto your back and yet you can’t help but to ponder about the man outside the door. He’s out there, with his helmet off.

You’ve never cared about this before, but you start to wonder what he looks like. Does he have a soft boyish face or one of a hardened warrior? Is his hair a dark black or a light blond? What about his skin, is it light and fair, or deep and brown?

Thoughts run through your mind as you wrap the fluffy towel around yourself. Then you catch your reflection in the mirror. Since when have you had a small smile on your face?

Shaking your head, you slide your clothes on and open the door. You’re met with the back of a head, brown hair curly and shaggy rested atop a strong golden neck. Before you can even process what you’re seeing, you slam the door shut and lock yourself in the bathroom.

A soft knock sounds on the door. You slowly open it and keep your eyes trained on the floor. “I-, I only saw the back of your head, sorry.” Your body deflates as your shoulders drop in shame.

“It’s okay, but I need to pee.”

“Oh.” You shuffle out of the room and as soon as the door shuts you fling yourself onto the bed. Grabbing a pillow you press it against your face and scream. Why do these things always happen to you?

Why does his hair have to look so perfect to run your fingers through? Why does his neck have to be that perfect golden brown that you want to kiss? Why does he have to be so handsome?

***

As the wedding approaches, you have started to see the fierce warrior in a new light. He offers to help old ladies up stairs and jokes with the other young men. When asked about you, he speaks with so much adoration you have started to forget that he doesn’t actually love you.

Maybe you’re just being hyperaware, but he seems to always be watching you. When you turn your head to him, he already has his visor trained on you. Even when you’re across the room conversing with others he always has an eye on you.

His voice has become softer, losing the gruff edge it once held. The underlying anger having melted into a warm glow that surprised you both. A small smile seems to have made its home on both your faces, only leaving when one another isn’t around.

As the two of you lay awake, you on the bed, and the Mandalorian on the floor, you break the silence.

“I can’t do it.”

The Mandalorian makes no response, so you continue.

“I can’t take him. You’ve seen how happy they are together. How big they smile for one another and how their eyes soften. Sure he may have once been a spy but he’s changed. I mean since then his record is nearly perfect. I don’t want to be the one who tears his happiness away.”

Again, your companion says nothing.

“I know we need the money, so I can pull some strings and we can work stuff out. You won’t have to do anything, but I can’t let either of us come between them. I know it may be cheesy but what they have is a pure and true love.”

You fade back to silence, staring up at the dark ceiling and contemplating everything you just said.

“Okay.”

***

The wedding is big and bright. Garlands of beautiful flowers hang everywhere, matching the candles and lights perfectly.

And as the two men say their vows, you can’t help but entangle your arm around the Mandalorians. A single tear falls from your eye as you notice the way they look at one another. With so much passion and devotion, it’s the kind of love people wish for.

You don’t know it, but the Mandalorian's eyes don’t watch the two lovers, they instead watch you.

It’s in this moment that he finally understands why his heart swells when you’re around. He understands why he always needs to make sure you’re safe and sound. He understands why everything in him screams to wipe away your tears and hold you close.

Because he loves you.

***

You sit in silence, the Mandalorian piloting the Crest and you to his right. As the Crest falls into autopilot he turns to look at you.

When you meet his visor, you offer him a smile. “That was beautiful. I mean did you see how amazing the decor team did.”

He only nods heart heavy with anxiety.

You continue talking about all the aspects you loved, from the color scheme to the cake. But you stop when his hand rests on your own.

Tension lays thick between the two of you, suffocating and intense. You don't miss the way his adam apple bobs as he clears his throat.

“I- last week I was so furious at you. I loathed you. But, as we had to pretend things started to change. But…” his hand squeezes your own as you look up at him with wide eyes, “I didn’t realize any of this until I saw you on the wedding day. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. And as you shed your tears I wanted nothing more than to be able to wipe them away and promise you comfort.”

He slides off the chair to rest on his knees before you.

“So, please… marry me. Because I want to be able to make you as happy as that bounty, I want to stand before you and say my vows with the pretty lights and amazing garlands. I want you.”

Your jaw hangs open as you draw on hand to cover it. Water wells up at the corner of your eyes as you replay his words over in your head.

Nodding your head frantically, you fall into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. “Yes… yes yes yes.”

One of his hands cups the back of your head while the other snakes around your waist. He chuckles as all his anxieties fade away.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So yeah I hope you liked it!

Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment. I love hearing what you all have to say.

Love, Lordy :)

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sundaysundaes · 4 years ago

Text

Before Our Story Began

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff | 7.4k | College AU Summary: The popular new kid at your campus has this habit of raising his eyebrows when he flirts and you just realized that maybe you have a kink for it.

It has the same setting as my previous Mark Lee X Reader’s stories (Our First Time and Drunk Antics) but if you’re not into Mark (I’m not judging but what is wrong with you) you can just skip those two because this story can be read separately.

Before dating the socially-awkward, yet utterly adorable Mark Lee, you have had your fair share of relationships that are now reduced into the form of awkward friendships. Your last boyfriend was Lee Donghyuck—who also publicly known as Haechan—and that fact does not sit well with Mark, because well, they were the best of friends. They still are, but it feels like they’re walking on thin ice whenever you’re in the picture so you try your best to stay away from your ex just to make sure everything is all right with the three of you.

Which is quite weird, knowing how close you were with Haechan before.

It was weird in the beginning, but fate really did play a major role in your relationship. You were in your second year of college and you’d managed to pull yourself together by that time, though you hadn’t really made any real friends yet. You weren’t aware of Mark’s existence either at that point, though he probably had with him being your long-time secret admirer after all. You were too busy trying to adapt to the new college and dormitory life, as well as trying to keep your grades up, that you could barely spend some time socializing with people. Project partners and study buddies were really as far as you could go with the term of friendship during your first year.

Your relationship didn’t exactly start as friends with Lee Donghyuck. Even though he had made tons of friends since his orientation days in college, you were certainly not one of them. You didn’t even know he existed in your world, and neither did he. Younger than both you and Mark, Haechan shone like the sun almost in every aspect of his life and unlike you, people had surely noticed that because he was academically smart, physically good-looking, very social and adventurously funny. It didn’t take long before he became popular at your campus. So popular, in fact, that you heard chatters of his name when you walked down the campus’ hallway with your textbooks in your arms. You had only known his name but not his face, so you didn’t really feel nervous or overly excited like any other girls would’ve probably had when you accidentally sat next to him during public speaking class and saw that he had a silly note stuck on his back, pressed against his black hoodie.

“Hey,” you called, loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough so the people around you wouldn’t notice. “You’ve got something on your back.”

The boy was young, and he had the smoothest golden skin you’d ever seen on a boy. You would probably kill to have his perfect sun-kissed skin. He had slightly chubby cheeks and a mop of dark brown hair with bangs falling over his eyes. He was slouching forward in his seat with his arms draped over his table, staring lifelessly at the board. His lower lip was jutting out in boredom and slight annoyance, reminding you of a five-year-old boy missing his favorite cartoon. He threw a glance to the side, looking at you with big, chocolate brown eyes, and his eyebrows raised in question.

“What?” He asked and you pointed to the back of his hoodie with your pen.

“I won’t judge if it’s the kind of thing you’re into,” you said, “but I don’t think placing a note behind your back with the words Spank Me, Mama, written on it is the best way to actually, you know, get it.”

He blushed and he blushed so hard that it made you think huh, he’s kinda cute, but you buried the thought right away. You had promised yourself to focus better that year. Falling head over heels for a fellow student on the first day of your new term was not the right way to do it.

“Right, thanks.” He struggled with the note, reaching behind his back as if his skin was on fire. You were about to help when he finally snatched the paper and read the words under his breath, eyes widening in shock.

“I assume that’s not your handwriting?” You were amused but tried your best not to tease him so much.

He did this pout that actually kind of fit his face, probably because he still had that baby face going on. Most of the guys you knew would look immensely disgusting if they pulled that kind of pout. Take your brother, Johnny, for example. Even the thought of him doing that already made you feel like punching your fist against a wall.

“I would weep myself to sleep if my handwriting was this bad,” he grumbled and you smiled secretly to yourself. He turned to you, an awkward grin painting his face. “Sorry, my friends are assholes. Do you happen to know a swamp nearby where I can dump dead bodies without being found out?”

You nod. “I know a place but it’s no longer free, though. They charge you, like, ten thousand won per body. Which is why I’m broke.”

His timid grin grew into a bright smile, probably feeling quite elated that somebody shared the same type of dumb humor as him. “I’m Lee Donghyuck.” He sneaked a hand under a table and you took it for a handshake, answering him with your name. “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Most welcome. You can save me back later when I have the words spank me, daddy, glued to my back.”

“So your friends are assholes too?”

“It’s what people have in common these days, I suppose.”

But when your professor spoke louder to make sure he didn’t any other noise in the room except his own, you had to cut your conversation short and only threw small grins at him every now and then.

When the class ended, you both parted ways with nothing more than a small wave of a hand and a casual, “Well, I guess, I’ll see you later.” You thought it would be too weird to get even friendlier than that, and he probably did too. You admitted that he was cute, but not cute enough for you to ditch your next class and make out with him in the nearest parking lot. You thought you were going to see him again soon anyway, probably the next week when the same class started.

And you were right, but you wished you weren’t because Donghyuck came back to your class the following week looking like a full-course meal.

Donghyuck probably had his hair cut short somewhere on the weekend and it looked absolutely fucking perfect on his head. His bangs were no longer hiding his eyes, and it was clear to you then that Donghyuck with his forehead seen, combined with those thick beautiful eyebrows and mesmerizing round eyes, were really something to behold.

He didn’t notice you were already in the class when he walked in, with his bag slinging on one shoulder. Some rowdy boys were shouting at the back of the room, “Haechan-ah, over here! Saved you a seat!” And Donghyuck grinned at them, waving his hand before he walked toward their seats and you thought Lee Donghyuck is Haechan?! That Haechan?! And mentally slapped yourself on the face when the flashback hit you. You had the chance to talk to one of the most popular boys in school and you talked about swamp and dead bodies.

Absolutely fucking perfect.

After you managed to collect yourself, you couldn’t hold back this urge to sneak a few glances to the back of the class, trying to catch a glimpse of that beautiful forehead of his—which you realized by then that you had some kind of a kink for it—without having him notice you.

But he did. He did notice every time you tried to secretly stare and he reciprocated each time with a smile, raising one of his eyebrows almost dangerously seductive at you and you thought goddamn if that wasn’t the sexiest thing I’ve seen in my twenty years of living I don’t know what is.

You offered your best effort to stay fucking calm despite everything that had been going on in your head, waving one hand at him with a small—hopefully not creepy—smile on your face. You immediately turned around right after, swallowing your breath, and tried not to vomit because your stomach felt like it was about to lurch out of your mouth. It wasn’t really an unpleasant feeling; it was just kind of new to you and you loathed the way your heart was slamming against your ribcages.

Okay, you mentally calmed yourself, get a hold of yourself. No need to panic. He’s just another cute boy, with a cute haircut, and a cute smirk, and a cute forehead and—

You really didn’t like where it was going.

When the class ended—and you didn’t learn a thing about it—you shoved your iPad back into your bag and let out the loudest sigh you had ever made in your sorry life.

“Bad day?”

Haechan’s voice was next to your ear and though you only jerked slightly on the outside, most of your soul had actually gone to heaven—or hell, from all those dirty thoughts you had about him during the last two hours of that lecture.

“Yeah,” you cooly replied. Thank God, your voice didn’t betray you. “My swamp is full again. I have to start looking for a new place.”

AM I SERIOUSLY TALKING ABOUT ANOTHER FUCKING SWAMP—

But Haechan was laughing about it, not too much but the amusement on his face was genuine. “It’s cute that you remember our previous conversation.”

“It’s cute that you do too.”

“Well, actually, that’s what I’ve been thinking about for the last week,” he told you with a smirk on his face. You dared to bet on your life that he was flirting with you and you were about to scream out of joy but you reminded yourself to play it cool.

“I don’t think it’s a conversation worth remembering,” you commented nonchalantly.

“Not if I had it with anyone else.”

You almost fell from your seat. “On second thought, it was a pretty interesting conversation, what with the—”

“Noona.” He suddenly leaned close, laying one hand on your desk to prop his weight. There was that smirk again—the one with his eyebrow raised. “I’m trying to flirt with you and ask you out on a date, if you haven’t noticed.”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and you could hear your own heartbeat in your ears at that point. You had thought about it—about him asking you out—but your imagination did not do justice on how smooth and confident or how goddamn attractive he looked in real life. “Oh.”

“Oh.” He imitated, smirking a bit wider and you were dazed with how bright he shone. “So, can I take you out for lunch? Not anywhere close to swamps full of dead bodies, I swear.” Then after a small pause, he added, “Unless, that’s what you’re into.”

“Shut up,” you retorted, standing up and gathering all your belongings into your arms. “You’re paying.”

He laughed softly to himself, trailing after you with a cheeky grin on his face. “This swamp thing could be our thing, though.”

“Shut up.”

***

Haechan was not one to take it slow, you remember, which is way different from how Mark does things with you.

It wasn’t like Haechan was overly aggressive—as far as boys go, he was pretty normal about the whole dating and sex thing—but he really just head straight to the point whenever he had something in mind, whether it was by a sudden change of topic in your conversation, or acting it out directly with his body.

While Mark tends to plan things, Haechan just did everything out on a whim. You could be talking about science fiction movies at a cafe at one point, and ended up with having your clothes soaked with water by the next few hours because he suddenly felt like the day was too hot and jumping into the campus pool fully clothed was a good idea. You weren’t sure why you’d said yes to all of that when you just barely knew him but Haechan could be very persuasive. So dangerously so, that you would probably say yes to anything.

It was on your third date when he suddenly bent his head down and cut you in the middle of your sentence with a kiss. It was only a small peck, a quick pressing of his plump lips against yours, but it still managed to literally stop you from breathing for a good couple of seconds.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling away with his eyes still staring at your lips. “I was… distracted.”

You knew it was lust in his eyes and you were familiar with yourself enough to know that you usually preferred to have your first kiss after you knew the guy for a certain amount of time. But Haechan—the way he sometimes stared at your lips for a millisecond while you were talking, or hugged you for a few seconds too long before you parted ways—really made you feel special. Made you feel… wanted. And it had been a long time since someone made you feel that way.

So it really didn’t come too much of a surprise that when he dipped his head down to kiss you again, you responded with as much passion as he emitted. You didn’t care that both of you were still standing in the middle of your co-ed dorm’s hallway, though it was empty from how late it was. You had your fingers tangled in his hair as you tiptoed and leaned your entire weight to his body, making him inhale sharply and curl his fingers around the fabric of your dress.

“Again,” he breathed when you pulled away for a split second and immediately brought you back to him again. Haechan had one arm around your waist and another one holding your face, angling your head to the side so he could kiss you deeper.

Haechan was a good kisser—so frighteningly so that it made you feel conscious of how inexperienced you were compared to him. And with the way his hands were moving around your body, you could tell that things were going a bit too fast.

“Haechan—”

The hand that you laid on his chest to give you both some space, was brought over your head as he pressed your body against the door of your room. He kissed you harder, almost knocking your head against the wooden surface, and you could taste the flavor of the lollipop he had on his way back to your dorm. His scent was intoxicating in the best way possible, numbing your mind from thinking how this could probably end up in a bad decision.

“Haechan-ah, wait,” you gasped against his mouth, and when he did, pulling away from you for a few inches to catch his own breath, you noticed that even if you managed to stop him, you probably wouldn’t sound very convincing.

It was really fortunate that although Haechan was a man of passion, he still had the patience to make your consent his priority. “Too fast?” He asked, warm breath fanning against your lips and you really wanted to just close those few inches between you and be smothered with his kisses again.

So you did, and you could feel him smirking into the kiss. The way he slipped his tongue between your mouth made your knees buckle underneath your weight so you clutched onto him as if you were hanging to dear life. Haechan formed this low grunt at the back of his throat that made your skin tingle in delight, knowing that you had that kind of effect on him.

But really, something still didn’t feel right.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, noticing how you fidgeted uncomfortably under his touch. He looked like stopping at this point would be the last thing he wanted to do but he still gave you the space you needed.

You nodded your head slowly at his question. Haechan looked like he had to put his best effort to gain control of his body and move away from you, and you could totally relate at that point, actually. You weren’t really sure why did you even stop him before. It just felt like the right thing to do but at the same time, it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Haechannie—"

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step away from you and releasing you from his hold. You were surprised by the fact that you almost fell down to the floor when he wasn’t holding you.

“No, don’t be—it was, umm,” You cleared your throat. The collar of your knitted sweater suddenly felt too tight. “It was good.”

“Good?” Haechan asked, smirking as he raised an eyebrow and you thought fuck there’s that look again and you cursed inwardly a few more times for feeling so whipped for his little, seductive eyebrow raise. “I thought that was more than good, Noona.”

“Probably for you,” you wanted to tease but you could hear your voice crack at the end.

“Oh, really?”

And he kissed you again because he never wanted to lose his game. He knew he already had you wrapped under his fingers; he just wanted to make you succumb to him. To have you say how amazing his touches really felt on your skin because he was just that kind of a guy.

And he was winning. Your reaction was exactly the way he wanted you to be, arching your back under his touch, pressing your chest against his, tongue darting out to taste the inside of his mouth better and longer.

“No, wait, timeout.” You pushed him away again and you noticed that his hair was a mess from the work of your fingers and weirdly enough, it only made him ten thousand times hotter.

“Noona, you’re torturing me.” He whined against your shoulder, playfully biting the skin over your clothes. “Do you want me to stop or not?”

Haechan had the habit of whining when things didn’t go his way. It was immature and it would probably look childishly annoying on someone else, but it only made him that much more adorable. Still annoying most of the time, but always adorable.

“I’m sorry.” You were torn between feeling bad or laughing about it because my God, look at that pout. “Maybe a five-minute break? I could make you some coffee. My roommate is away for the weekend.”

He sighed, the pout on his lips grew even more apparent. “You’re inviting me to your room? At this hour? After this?”

“I’m not going to have sex with you tonight, Lee Donghyuck, just to be clear.”

“Which is the more reason why you shouldn’t be inviting me over then!”

You laughed because his voice was becoming quite high-pitched. “Are you so incapable of using your brain instead of your dick?”

“Noonaaaaa~” He threw his head back in exasperation, which gave you the chance to ogle at the column of his throat. “Seriously, is torturing guys at the end of a date your sick hobby or something?”

“Look, if you stay over, we can still make-out.” You throw a smirk at him, unlocked your door and pushed it wide open. “And I make the most amazing coffee, trust me.”

“Fine,” he exhaled, walking into your room with a suppressed smile on his face. “And I’m only here for coffee, nothing more. Making-out with you is just a bonus.” And you found yourself giggling like a child as he cradled you into his arms and pushed you down to your bed because you both knew, it was the other way around.

***

About a month later, a similar situation happened again and there was no getting out of it.

It started with Haechan coming over to your room on a Sunday afternoon. Your roommate was staying over at her boyfriend’s place again for the weekend, so you had the room to yourself for the entire day. Haechan came unplanned and he’d brought his MacBook with him because, “I know myself well enough that I’d end up playing Overwatch instead of working on my assignment, so could you please be a responsible adult and force me to do my work even if I start crying at your feet?”

Haechan was always the dramatic one in your relationship but you nodded your head and let him in. You brought over some snacks and made him coffee like usual—which he always replied with, “Noona, I don’t want to sound like an ungrateful boyfriend but this coffee tastes like shi—” but was always finished with a pillow smacked to his face, a form of your courtesy.

You were working on your own papers too, sitting on the carpeted floor with your back pressed against the foot of your bed and a MacBook resting on your lap. Your textbooks were sprawled all over the place, and Haechan was lying down on your bed, head falling over the edge. He was looking at his phone, his thumb running up and down the screen.

“Noona?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m bored.”

“Aren’t you supposed to work on your assignment?”

“Finished it already.”

You threw a look over your shoulder, glancing to see him lounging on your bed as if it was his own. Haechan already had his MacBook closed, and was looking at you upside down with a completely bored look on his face. You knew he was smart, but you didn’t know he was that smart when he really put his mind to it.

“Well, that was fast,” you commented.

“No, you’re just doing it painfully slow.”

“Well, sorry for not being as smart as you,” you mumbled, even though you weren’t really annoyed about it. Haechan huffed and walked closer, sitting closely right behind you, and trapping you between his legs.

“You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met, though,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What are you working on exactly?”

“I don’t even know, honestly,” you sighed, leaning against his chest, dropping your head on his shoulder. “You wanna order some take-out?”

“Can I eat you for dinner instead?”

“Was that a sex joke, Lee Donghyuck?”

“Could be, if you’re interested.” You could see him wiggling his eyebrows from his reflection on your standing mirror. Both of you looked adorable, if you could say so yourself, wearing a matching white shirt (though not on purpose) and enjoying each other’s warmth with Haechan’s arms wrapped protectively around your figure. You sighed as you admired the sight of Haechan’s features in the mirror.

“Have I told you how sexy you look with your hair pushed back like this?” You asked, reaching out to touch some of his strands and he followed your gaze, looking at his own reflection in the mirror.

“Huh.” He seemed surprised. “It’s the first time you said that actually. What else do you think is sexy about me?”

“Promise you won’t get cocky about it if I tell you?”

“Can’t. You know how I am.”

You sighed but you succumbed to his wish. He praised you from time to time, it was only fair for you to do the same. “The way you dance.”

“You saw me dance?”

“Hm-hmm.”

“When?”

“That time when we went to Jaemin’s party. You were dancing to Billy Jean.”

“You saw that?!” He was flustered, scarlet painting his cheeks and ears. “That was—I thought you were in the bathroom!”

“Well, I was going to but then I saw you and kinda had to stop and stare for a little. You dance more with your hips than with your hands, do you know that? It was kinda hot.”

And just like that, the flabbergasted look on his face was immediately replaced with that Godforsaken cocky smirk again. “Were you turned on back then because of me?”

“A little. Or maybe I just really had to pee.”

“You should’ve said something, you know.”

“And then what? Have sex with you in Jaemin’s room? No freaking way.”

“We could’ve used my car. My hips could do so much more than just dancing, you know.”

“You’re disgusting.” You elbowed him slightly on the stomach to stop him from giggling, before you focused back on your MacBook. “Now, shoo, my boy. Mommy’s gotta work.”

Haechan had his chin on one of your shoulders. “But Noona~”

“I’m studying.”

“I’m bored~” He whined like the baby that he was, nuzzling his nose against the crook of your neck and you flinched slightly when his breath tickled your skin. “Can we make-out? Please pretty pleaseeeee~”

“Give me half an hour to finish this real quick—”

“Noonaaaaaaa~”

“What?” You were trapped between laughing and acting annoyed about it. “I seriously need to study. Didn’t you tell me to be a responsible adult for today?”

“You could also be a responsible adult by making-out with me though.” He chuckled to himself. “We could do adult things if you—”

“No,” you firmly stated though your smile kept on appearing on your face. You pushed a palm against his cheek, playfully shoving him away. “Now, go away, Dongsookie, I really have to study.”

“Fine,” he exhaled loudly against your shoulder and you could practically feel his pout growing on his face. He didn’t let you go, though. He kind of just sat there behind you, still circling his arms around your waist as he lazily stared at the words you were typing on the keyboard. You had trouble concentrating with the way you could feel every time he took in a breath from how close his chest was pressed against your spine but eventually you got the hang of it.

You were already working on your third page when Haechan suddenly had his lips on the side of your neck, lazily suckling on the skin until you could no longer ignore him.

“Haechannie.”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m playing a game,” he murmured against your skin, licking at the soft skin before he nibbled at it with his teeth. “It’s called how fast can I distract my girlfriend from working over a stupid assignment instead of spending time with me.”

“But I am spending time with you, though.”

“You know what I mean.”

And you had to bite your lip because he had a certain kind of pressure on his words that made your skin tingle in anticipation. His lips were soft but scorching hot as he drew bruises on your skin and it felt so good and dangerous at the same time. It was like standing on a bridge made of glass, both exciting and terrifying.

“You know what I think is sexy about you?” He quietly asked, one hand running down your body, slipping under your shirt and hovering dangerously close to your bra. “The way you say my name when we kiss,” he continued, adding a soft moan when he latched his lips around your earlobe.

You shivered, feeling heat growing on your cheeks. “Haechannie—”

“Yes, like that,” he chuckled, his voice suddenly became deeper. “You’re so sexy, you’re driving me insane.”

You tried your best to ignore him, you really did. But the second he had his warm mouth against your lips, his fingers grabbing your face almost forcefully to turn towards him, you just lost it and you found yourself crawling into his lap, tangling your legs around his waist and moaning against his mouth as he was against yours.

“Noona,” he sighed when you kissed down his neck, as if your every touch was a gift that he craved more and more. He shuddered slightly when you had your hand under his shirt and as if you just pushed the wrong button, he suddenly picked you up by the waist, shoved your textbooks away with one swipe of the back of his hand, and laid you down on the carpeted floor in one swift motion.

“If you keep doing that,” he breathed out heavily, eyes glazed as he stared at your kiss swollen lips. “I won’t be able to stop, even if you beg me to.”

You weren’t sure what came over you but you found yourself hooking your fingers around his necklace and brought his face down, whispering, “Then don’t stop,” directly against his lips.

It was all rush and passion and Haechan was not wasting even a second away before he began to undress you, removing each clothing very easily and you secretly wondered just how many times had he done this before from how smooth he unclasped your bra with one flick of his finger.

He pulled his shirt over his head, his silver necklace hanging loosely around his neck. “Tell me if I’m being too fast,” he said, before he climbed on top of you, throwing the piece of clothing away without a care. Your heart jumped at the sight of him, knowing how this could lead to something more but couldn’t really stop him. Not with the way he had his hands reaching down from the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, his fingers brushing above the hem of your jeans.

His kiss was always breathtaking, to say the least, but it was a bit different this time because it felt like he was losing control of himself. His kiss was almost forceful, his teeth roughly nibbling at your lower lip before he moved down your chin and found his place in the crook of your neck again. His hand was on your chest, cupping you fully with his palm and let out this sexy groan when he felt you gasping his name against his mouth.

“Fuck, you’re just doing that on purpose now, aren’t you?” He hissed, eyes clouded with lust. He peppered kisses down your chest, lips hovering above your nipple when he said, “You’re being cruel, Noona.” You were tugging at his dark locks when he placed it between his lips, sucking at the sensitive spot, and you tried to hold back your moan but failing every time.

Haechan was giggling to himself, his tongue flicking around the bud. “The way you’re reacting to me is so cute. I didn’t know you were this sensitive.” He ran his tongue across his lower lip, staring at you like he wanted to ravish every part of you, which he probably did. “You’re so goddamn cute.”

“Haechannie.”

“Yeah?”

“I won’t be needing that kind of commentary ever again in the future, thanks,” you uttered, trying your best to focus on his touch and not his words because Haechan could be annoyingly talkative sometimes.

He chuckled again, moving along to land a few kisses on your stomach. “If you’re that sensitive here, how sensitive will you be if I touch you right over…” He trailed a finger down from your belly button to the edge of your underwear. His eyes twinkled gleefully before he rubbed your clit over your underwear. “…here?”

You gave your best strength to stay sane but Haechan’s giggle over your reaction only tortured you even further. “Stop playing around,” you hissed under your breath, pretty sure that you were blushing from ear to ear.

“Playing?” Haechan grinned tauntingly, “I’m being pretty serious, though.” He spread your legs, kissing the inner part of your trembling thigh before he hovered dangerously close to the point you could feel his breath down there. You couldn’t help but gulp in anticipation and Haechan knew that. He knew how much you wanted him to take off your underwear and eat you out like it’s his last meal.

But of course, being the little fucking devil that he was, Haechan only threw you his usual smirk and said, “You know I’d do anything for you, right, Noona? You just gotta beg for it.”

“No way.”

“Otherwise, I wouldn’t know.” He faked a pout. “I’m younger than you, you know. I need you to teach me these things.”

You reciprocated by kicking him right on his abs because as desperate as you were, there was no way in hell you were going to grovel at his feet, begging for him to please you. “All right, all right, I’m sorry, geez!” Haechan said, laughing as he successfully dodged two of your first kicks. Soon after, he grabbed your moving legs, carefully placed them on his sides and ran his hands slowly from your legs to your thighs. He took a long glance at your body, sighing like it was some kind of beautiful torture for him to take. “You don’t even realize how hot you are, do you?” He leaned closer and grabbed you by your chin, locking both of your gazes together. “Do you even know how hard I am right now because of you?”

It was a rhetorical question, clearly, because you could definitely tell how hard and hot he was pressing against you, even if his jeans and your underwear were still on the way.

“God, just—” you gasped when he slipped a knee between your legs, pressing it against your core. “Just stop being a fucking tease and fuck me already, Donghyuck.”

And he grinned against your skin. “Fucking finally.” You heard him say under his breath, before he carried you in his arms and moved you to the bed. It felt somewhat scary, how fast he was being, because you had only experienced sex once and it was the painfully awkward kind of sex with your high school boyfriend and you didn’t really have the chance to practice it with anyone else while it seemed to you, at this point, was clearly not the case for him.

Haechan had his eyes on you, all half-lidded with lust and passion, as he unbuckled the belt of his jeans and you had to gulp at the sight. He didn’t really have six-pack abs like Jaehyun—considering your boyfriend was quite an athlete during his senior days—but his shoulders were broad, his chest was toned, his stomach was lean and his skin, as it glistened slightly with sweat, was just absolutely breathtaking.

“Enjoying the view?” He asked, and you knew how he’d always been cocky in his entire life, but he’d never been this cocky. “You’re practically drooling.”

“I am not,” you retorted but you lacked confidence. Haechan grabbed a condom from the pocket of his jeans before he climbed back into the bed with his jeans unbuttoned.

“Why do you already have a condom with you?”

“Because I came prepared.”

“I thought you said you wanted to study.”

“Among other things,” he grinned against your lips and shushed down your next protest. “I will be studying your body, if you give me the chance.”

“That was so lame.” But even your insult couldn’t mask how nervous you sounded, especially when Haechan was settling himself between your legs again, fingers hooking around your underwear.

“Final chance if you want me to stop, Noona,” he said though it felt like it was almost impossible for him to stop. “I’m serious. After this, I won’t stop even if you cry.”

You swallowed your breath, heart thrumming loud against your chest. “Just do whatever you want,” you answered, almost too quiet for even your ears to hear but Haechan’s eyes gleamed in anticipation.

“That’s my girl,” he said, grabbing your thighs and spreading your legs apart before he leaned in to taste your mouth again. “I’ll be gentle, don’t worry.”

You realized you were holding your breath when Haechan wrapped the condom around his length and he had his eyes on you before he pushed in, asking with an unexpected low voice of his, “Ready?”

But he did not wait for an answer and you found yourself hissing when he pushed in, slowly at first and suddenly all at once. You twisted your fingers against the bed sheet, biting your lower lip because it hurt trying to adjust to his size and Haechan was a little bit lost in his own thoughts, muttering, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” under his breath, slightly throwing his head back out of pleasure. “Noona, you’re so fucking tight. Do you know that?”

He leaned closer to you, chest pressing against your breasts as he mouthed against the skin of your shoulder and slowly began to move his hips. “You all right?” He asked, making eye contact after a while and you shakily nodded your head, though the pain was still there. “Then I’ll move faster.”

You almost hit your head against your headboard when he suddenly picked up the pace, thrusting into you hard and deep; it knocked the breath out of your lungs. “Haecha—” you could barely speak at that point, arms clutching tight to his back, nails raking against his spine.

“Fuck,” he uttered between heavy breaths as he sat on his knees, holding both of your legs in the air, almost splitting your body in half and pushed deeper. “How the fuck do you feel this good, I—” he ended his sentence short, kissing your ankle instead, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wanna keep you—you’re so pretty like this, Noona—so fucking pretty—”

Haechan was always good with his words but at that time, he was making incoherent noises at the back of his throat, jumping from one sentence to another as if he was thinking about several things at once and he was running out of time.

“Haechan, wait—s-slow down—” You placed a hand on his shoulder, tears forming in your eyes. “You’re moving too fast—It hurts—”

Haechan was unfocused, but the last two words that slipped from your mouth brought him back to reality. He stopped almost immediately, looking at you with eyes searching your face. “Does it hurt?” He asked and you nodded, your body shaking a little bit. His gaze softened, cupping your cheek in his hand before he slowly pulled out of you. “I’m sorry, come here.” He cradled you into his arms, sitting down on the bed and helped you climb into his lap. “Maybe if we do it this way,” he said, wiping a tear from your eye with his thumb, “You’ll feel better?”

You could feel him twitching below you, the tip of his cock pressing against your folds. Haechan stayed true to his promise, he wasn’t going to stop even if you cried and that’s fine because you didn’t want him to.

“Take your time,” Haechan said, smiling gently in a way that was so not him that it made you feel weird. You could tell that he was trying to keep himself calm and composed even when all he wanted to do was to fuck you senselessly.

He pushed inside again, but let you take control of the pace this time. You slid down slowly, wincing slightly at the friction but it no longer hurt as much. Haechan was staring at you the entire time, unconsciously licking his lower lip when you slowly began to bounce on his lap.

“Kiss me,” he demanded and you did, sharing his breath and his moans, and tangling your hands in his hair. When he felt your body relaxing against him, he grabbed you by the waist and suddenly thrust forward, making you gasp and clenched your legs together.

“Fuck,” he moaned under his breath, hissing at how perfect you felt around him. “Noona, you can be mad at me as much as you want after this but for now let me just—” he groaned, furrowing his eyebrows at the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. “Just let me fuck you the way I want.”

And you found yourself thrown back to the bed with him thrusting into you deep and raw, faster and much more forceful than before. His nails were sinking into your skin from how hard he was holding you by your hips, keeping you still as he rocked his hips forward as hard and as fast as he liked. Expletives were falling from his lips between his low grunts and breathy moans and you couldn’t help but sob a little at how strong he was going. It felt painfully amazing, and you knew your body wasn’t making any sense, and it surprised you when your orgasm hit you like a wave, just a few seconds before he reached his. You honestly never thought that something so painful could also bring this much pleasure and you wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t even find the energy to keep yourself up.

You fell down to the bed with Haechan toppling on top of you almost immediately, chest heaving fast as he tried to bring back some air into his lungs.

“Holy fucking hell,” he said, breathing heavily at the juncture of your neck. “That was so good. This is probably the first time I—”

“Haechannie.”

“Oh right, shit!” He immediately jumped away, giving you some space and gently placed his palm on the side of your face, checking your condition. “Are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere? Noona, I’m so sor—Yah!“

You pinched him by the nose, glowering at him with the little strength you have left and you didn’t let go even if he was tapping frantically against the back of your hand, asking for time-outs before you broke his bones.

Well, he said you could be mad at him all you want. It was time for him to face your wrath and it was not going to be pretty.

***

It wasn’t long until your name became a famous topic to discuss around the hallway too and it felt weird yet exciting at the same time, because it was true. You were dating Lee Haechan. And no matter how many times you had to convince yourself that it wasn’t solely your imagination, it still felt unreal.

Because Haechan was shining like the sun, and you couldn’t really shine as bright.

It suddenly felt like high school all over again when you’d once dated the Prom King, Jung Jaehyun, where people always talked behind your back, making comments about your face, or your body, or your attitude and how every aspect of your life did not fit the legendary high school prince that was Jung Jaehyun. It had gotten so much into your head that you had to break up with him, and hating yourself for over a year on how weak you’d become.

Dating Haechan was similar but different in the way he treated you. Jaehyun was too kind, not really saying anything back to anyone who said awful things about you and instead, just told you to not pay any mind about it. Haechan was much braver in saying the things that came to mind, so whenever he heard people talking trash about you, he would come up to them with words laced with venom. It was kind of childish, the way he got worked up rather easily, and even more childish when he continued to pout and fume about it even after a whole day had passed.

“Seriously, I said I’m fine,” you once said to him, entering his Hyundai after he opened the door for you.

“Well, I’m pissed off,” he said, unconsciously closing the door a bit too hard, making you flinch slightly. He walked to the other side of the car, sinking to his seat behind the wheel and exhaled loudly.

“Haechannie.”

“What?” His tone was still a bit harsh, but you knew he didn’t mean to shout at you.

“Thank you for defending me,” you softly said, reaching out for his hand. “But at this point, you’re gonna be mad with literally everyone and anger does not look pretty on you.”

“But aren’t you pissed, though? They literally have no business whatsoever to—”

“I know.” You squeezed his hand. “Look if it gets worse, we can always plan out something. There’s this perfect swamp I know outside of town.”

And Haechan couldn’t help but smile. Maybe he was right, that swamp thing could really be your thing. “You and your stupid swamp,” he muttered, shaking his head in amusement as he grabbed your face for a kiss. “Can we have sex at your place today?”

You sighed. It was always like this when it came to him. “Sure, why not.”

Because certainly, you weren’t complaining.

***

1K notes · View notes

jungshookz · 4 years ago

Text

🧦 stocking stuffers: yoongi’s being annoying as per usual

stocking stuffers are basically the holiday equivalent of teeny tidbits :D i just wanted to give you guys a little something to tide you over while you’re waiting for the second drabble! also yes that is a sock emoji there was no stocking emoji sUE ME

this started off at five hundred words and quickly spiralled into two thousand words but it’s not good enough to stand alone as a proper drabble so i’m counting it as a puny stocking stuffer drabble

pairing; demon!yoongi x y/n

genre; sfw for the most part but there are some suggestive themes because this is demon!yoongi after all <3

what to expect; “ooh, i love it when you get mouthy with me... it turns me on.”

wordcount; 2.3k

»»————-　🎄 ————-««

“i don’t even know why we’re decorating this stupid thing. we’re going to be throwing it out by the end of the month.” yoongi grumbles, tossing a handful of fake snow onto the tree a little too aggressively before shoving his hand back into the bag

this sucks

when he woke up this morning you told him that you guys would be spending the entire day decorating the apartment for christmas and his morning wood immediately deflated

in fact he’s pretty sure his penis might’ve shrivelled up and died at your words

it doesn’t make any sense

you’re like.,., 25% demon!

you’re supposed to hate christmas because it’s literally the day of christ, but here you are, wearing what has to be the ugliest sweater he’s ever seen in his entire life (it lights up. what kind of a sweater lights up?!) while happily hanging baubles on this poor tree that should be out in nature and definitely not in this apartment

“oh, cut it out, you grouch.” you scowl playfully, already fully aware as to why yoongi’s so grumpy today, “decorating is fun! and our presents are going to look so pretty under the tree-”

“y/n?” jungkook pokes his head out from the kitchen and you turn to look at him, “i’m gonna need you to help out with the gingerbread house. construction isn’t going great. there’s frosting everywhere and i ate most of the m&ms. and one of the gingerbread men is missing a head because i got hungry.”

“are you seri- i asked you to do one thing, kook-” you frown, jungkook smiling sheepishly before not so subtly popping an m&m into his mouth, “get back in the kitchen! i’ll join you in a second.”

jungkook pops back into the kitchen and you let out a hopeless little sigh before slowly turning to look at yoongi

he pauses right as he’s about to sprinkle some more snow onto the branches and narrows his eyes at you, “…why are you looking at me like that?”

“will you finish decorating the tree while i help jungkook?” you turn to look at yoongi before pushing your bottom lip out in a pleading little pout, “please?”

“what?? no way!” yoongi scowls, immediately dropping the bag of fake snow onto the floor with a thump, “the only reason why i agreed to do this was because it’s more bearable when we do it together- i’m not decorating this tree alone, that’s just pathetic-”

“aw, c’mon-”

“i’ll just wait for you to finish with the gingerbread house and then we’ll continue with the tree-”

“but we have to follow my schedule!” you whine, grabbing your notepad off the couch before pointing at the next thing on your list, “see? 1:00 to 2:00 - decorate the tree. 2:00 to 2:30 - hang the lights out on the balcony- and it’s already 1:30, yoon-”

“for the love of-” yoongi huffs, “okay, fine! fine, i’ll- i’ll decorate the damn tree alone.” yoongi snatches the box of baubles from you but the faintest of smiles twitches at his mouth when you lean in to squish an appreciative kiss to his cheek

the thought of completely burning the tree down while you’re gone briefly flits through his mind but he squashes that thought quickly

he’ll be good for you

he can behave!

»»————-　🎄 ————-««

“don’t eat the gum drops, i’ll be right-” you step out of the kitchen and your eyes widen to the size of saucers when you see yoongi floating in mid-air, carefully wrapping the christmas lights around the tree, “yoongi!” you hiss quietly, hurrying over to him before reaching up and wrapping your fingers around his ankle, “yoongi, what the hell are you doing-?!”

“i’m wrapping the damn tree in these lights and we don’t have a ladder-” yoongi wobbles a little when you give him another harsh yank and he glances down to see you looking warily at the kitchen door

heh

you’re... anxious.

he can feel wafting it in the air and it smells so good

maybe he can have a little bit of fun with this…

“so use a chair or something! yoongi, i thought we agreed that if jungkook was here that you wouldn’t do anything non-humany-!” you jump when yoongi suddenly drops the pile of lights into your arms before lying back and folding his arms behind his head

oh god

he’s not going to get down anytime soon

also the only reason why you haven’t told jungkook about the fact that yoongi is most definitely not from this world is because he would pass out from complete and utter petrification

you don’t know how he’s going to be able to handle a spawn of satan when the man is scared of fruit flies!!!!

you’re planning to keep everything a secret until the day you die

(you’re also hoping that the day you pop one of yoongi’s babies out that it doesn’t come out with tiny red horns on its head because you feel like jungkook wouldn’t take that very lightly)

“down. now!” you snap, bending down to set the lights down on the ground so you can go and follow yoongi, “i’m serious, yoongi!”

“oh, relax.” yoongi sighs, “he’s in the kitchen, we’re in the living room…” you frown disapprovingly when he tilts his head back so that his face is right in front of yours before flashing you a grin, “now, why don’t you wipe that frown off your face and give me a kiss?” he purses his lips obnoxiously and squawks when you shovE your face into his hand

hey!

rude!!

“i’m not going to give you anything until you get down-”

“aw, but decorating the apartment would be so much easier if you just let me do my thing!” yoongi pushes himself all the way up so that he’s next to the ceiling fan, “i can even do some much needed dusting while i’m up here!”

“min yoongi, if you don’t get down right now-” you hop up onto the couch and reach up to grab his foot onLY for yoongi to pull his legs up and cross them, “you know exactly what you’re doing, you sadistic freak-”

“ooh, i love it when you get mouthy with me,” yoongi wiggles his eyebrows, chuckling to himself when you start hopping up and down to try to get closer to him, “it turns me on.”

“that means nothing to me because you get turned on by everything-” you grumble, your fingers barely brushing over his ankle as you keep trying to grab him, “like that one time you were watching me eat ice cream-”

“uhhhh, excuse me-” yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes, “there was white cream dripping down your chin. obviously i got turned on-”

“hey, if you come down now, i promise to do that thing that you said you wanted to do…” you offer, looking up at yoongi with wide eyes before clasping your hands together, “c’mon… isn’t that a good deal?”

yoongi shakes his head and sticks his tongue out at you, “nice try, you scammer. i’m not falling for that again-”

your shoulders immediately drop and you watch helplessly as he floats over so that he’s near the kitchen door

you really wished that inheriting some of yoongi’s aura gave you the power to float as well

all it gave you was the ability to sometimes make your eyes go black

suRE your stamina in bed has improved significantly and you can keep your engine running from sunset to sunrise but that’s not as cool as FLOATING in mid-air

“do not.” you shoot yoongi a glare when he makes a motion to open the kitchen door

“what if i…” yoongi grins, pretending to knock against the door, “oh, look at your face! you don’t like that, do you? you poor, helpless little thing...” he coos, rolling over onto his back with a laugh

oh god

you haTE THIS

“you know i-” your heart practically drops out of your ass when the door suddenly swinGs open and jungkook steps out with frosting all over his hands

“okay, i know you said not to touch anything, but one of the walls were starting to droop so i thought i’d reinforce it with a little more frosting, buT i squeezed too hard and the bag exploded-”

you swallow thickly when yoongi lowers himself a little all while maintaining strong eye contact with you, propping his chin up on his palm before the corners of his mouth turn up in a grin

you ball your hands into tight fists when yoongi blinks and his pupils turn into thin red slits

great! now his creepy demon eyes are out!

okay

you know what?

it’s fine

relax!

you know he’s taunting you on purpose but it’s not like he’s actually going to do anything-

“DON’T-!” you jump off the couch when yoongi wiggles his fingers directly above jungkook’s head, a couple tendrils of his hair starting to float upwards

“okay, jeez!” jungkook raises both hands in defence before scoffing lightly, “i said i’d offer to help clean up but since you obviously don’t want my help then maybe you can get yoongi to help-“ jungkook pauses, glancing over by the tree, “hey, where’d he go? i heard his voice like a second before i came out-”

“he’s dead!” you blurt out, jungkook’s eyes widening immediately

(improvisation has never been one of your strong suits)

yoongi lies down on his back before crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes, all while floating mere inches above jungkook’s head

“i mean… he’s… dead-finitely in the washroom.” you correct yourself, trying to hide the complete and utter angeR on your face when yoongi peels open one eye before turning his head and blowing a silent kiss at you, “because he… had to pee. like any other normal human being does when their bladder is full.”

“that was a very... non-human being way to answer a question.” jungkook snorts, “what’s wrong with you?”

“i just... don’t want you to get your grubby frosting hands anywhere!” you clear your throat, letting out a sheepish chuckle before rushing over to jungkook, “why don’t you start cleaning up and i’ll join you in a sec?”

“but my hands are still covered in frosting-”

“uh-huh, sounds good!” you slap your hands down on jungkook’s shoulders before spinning him around and practically shoVing him back into the kitchen

you close the door before looking up so you can grab yoongi by the collar and pull him-

yoongi is… no longer there.

the christmas lights on the tree flicker before buzzing out

okay

so he wants to play games, does he?

“yoongi?” you spin around quickly before walking forwards cautiously, carefully inspecting every inch of the room for any sign of your nightmare of a boyfriend

you jump in surprise when a bauble suddenly falls off the tree and bounces on the floor before rolling over to your feet

“you think you’re so funny, don’t you?” you mumble, bending down to pick it up before gently placing it down on the coffee table

i’m fucking hilarious, baby. i like to think that’s part of the reason as to why you love me so much.

“what the-!” you jolt at the sound of yoongi’s voice suddenly echoing in your head

the last time he was in your head like this was when you summoned him for the first time which was definitely a while ago

you forgot how weird it was to hear his voice inside your head

“i certainly don’t love you right now, i can say that for sure.” you grumble, “it’s safe to say that i actually hate you right now-”

you look really sexy when you’re mad at me. why don’t you meet me in the bathroom for a quickie? jungkook will never know. i’ll even cover your mouth with my hand so he won’t hear anything.

you look over quickly when the door to the guest bathroom suddenly creaks open

ahA

“yeah, i’ll meet you in the bathroom... to kick your ass-” you storm over, kicking the door open only to see that there’s no one in there, “and then when i’m done kicking your ass, i’m gonna kick your ass again-”

ooh, are we finally experimenting with pain now? i can definitely get into that. i can use your bobby pins as makeshift nipple clamps.

“you are infuriating!” you snap, placing your hands on your hips and looking up at the ceiling

you know that being playful is just part of yoongi’s nature but good GOD

sometimes you just want to strangle him

and not in the kinky way

at this point it looks like you’re going to have to pull out what might be the most predictable trick in your book but you’re desperate here

you need to sort this out before jungkook comes out to see you talking to yourself like a crazy person

yeah, that’s right. keep thinking about how annoying i am and how much that pisses you off. angry sex is super hot.

“oh yeah?” you stroll towards the middle of the living room, taking your time to do so, “you think so?”

hell yeah. i want you to be on top, too. i love the view.

“i’ll do... whatever you want me to do...” you trail off, eyes flickering around the room for any sign of movement, “but if you don’t come out in the next five seconds, it’s just going to be you and your hand for the next five days- oh-!”

it’s only a second later that you’re suddenly being pummelled into from behind

you definitely would’ve fallen face first onto the floor if it wasn’t for yoongi wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, “finally! there you are-”

“depriving me of sex during the holidays??” yoongi whines, digging his fingers into your waist, “now look who’s being the asshole-”

see??

oldest trick in the book but it still works like a charm :’)

christmas with cee 2020 masterlist

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pies-writes-and-more · 4 years ago

Text

Hungover Love

word count: 2,688

pairing: UniversityStudent!Akaashi Keiji x Fem!Reader

warnings: characters getting drunk and hungover - all assumed to be of legal age

a/n: I don’t know where this came from but I started writing it so here it is haha. Got the idea from @moanlightlust‘s list (can find it here!) so thank you! I’ll bold the prompt down below (I kinda changed it for the sake of the story but still got the idea from their prompt list :)) Thank you to @satan-ruler-of-hells and @thisnoodlewritesao3 for reading over this for me! Love you both :)

haikyuu masterlist

“Akaashi?” You repeated the name for the second time as you strained your ears to hear something besides bar music and Bokuto’s loud voice in the background.

“Hm?” The small grunt made you smile, knowing he was probably slumped over on a chair, holding his face in one hand and leaning on a table in front of him, with his other hand pressing his phone a little too hard on his ear.

You let out a small laugh, pausing the show you had on your TV so you could hear him better, “Akaashi, you called me. Did you need something?”

There was another grunt on the other end of the line, and you chuckled as you heard Konoha teasing Bokuto about something in the distance, “What is it, Akaashi?” You inquired some more, listening to him hum quietly to the song playing.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he mumbled and you just shook your head with a smile. God he must’ve had far too many drinks to be this out of it. “I fucking love Y/N Y/L/N. It almost feels like she can hear me right now,” he was saying and you just laughed. “Like I can... I can hear her laughing.”

“Akaashi, you idiot,” your face felt hot but you tried to ignore it. He was drunk. Very clearly drunk. He didn’t mean anything by it - the last time he was drunk, he told you he was going to leave his college volleyball team and join some new sport because Bokuto was getting on his nerves.

It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t. It didn’t matter that those were the words you had been waiting to hear from him. It didn’t matter that you’d spent the last two years pining after him. He was drunk.

“Didya know... the other day.... Y/N smiled at me cause I said something funny- what did I say... I can’t remember what I said but I said something funny and she smiled and I just.. God it’s that smile ya know?” Akaashi’s voice seemed so much lighter than it did usually. You could tell that he was smiling and just imagining that goofy drunk smile on his face made your heart skip a beat or two.

“That’s nice,” you tried to keep things casual, avoid getting your hopes up too much. You didn’t want to ruin what you had with him - the nice fun friendship that was definitely just a friendship.

“Y/N?” Akaashi suddenly seemed a lot more present, as if just realizing you were on the line.

“Yea?”

“Y/N!” The smile on his face was probably a lot bigger from the sounds of it, a chuckle slipping from his lips, “I love you, Y/N! I’ve loved you ever since I met you when you picked up my runaway ball for me back in high school. You were so pretty then and you’re super pretty now. Like you get prettier every day I see you-” his speech was quick and slurred, you could almost feel him getting drunker by the second.

“Akaashi-”

“Bokuto keeps telling me that I need to tell you but I dunno if I can because I’m pretty sure you like that dude that lives across from you and-”

“Akaashi-”

“But I guess I wouldn’t know until I told you right? So I’m telling you because I like you. I really like you. I wanted to bring you to that new ice cream place down the road from your place but you always seemed so busy and I don’t want to bug you, plus volleyball takes up so much time, and then there’s school, and I don’t even know how to balance volleyball, school, and a girlfriend-”

“Akaashi!” Your voice was louder this time, biting down on your inner cheek as his name left your lips. You needed him to stop - it had to stop. Your heart was fluttering too much and you couldn’t even tell how much of this was true. You wanted to tell yourself that alcohol could bring out people’s true feelings, but it also made you do dumb shit. And wouldn’t confessing to someone you didn’t actually like be considered dumb shit?

“Ya that’s me,” Akaashi mumbled, clearly a lot more tired than he seemed five seconds ago.

You tried not to laugh, tried to swallow your fears and your feelings, your heart feeling like it was beating a thousand times a minute. “I need you to go sober up, get some rest and drink lots of water okay?”

“But-”

“No but’s! You obviously drank way too much and honestly, I’ve never heard you talk like this before and I can’t even tell if it’s you anymore,” you acted like you were scolding him, putting up that wall again like you had so many other times before. He couldn’t really like you, could he? There was no way.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I fucking love you!” Akaashi yelled into the phone, making you cringe a bit at the volume.

Your chest was tightening, you couldn’t tell if it was fear or hope but whatever it was, it was scaring the shit out of you, “Shut the hell up! If you love me so much tell me when you’re sober, dammit!” You yelled back, immediately hanging up the phone. Your eyes widened as you watched the call screen disappear, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

The next few hours were radio silent from both Bokuto and Akaashi. You refused to text either of them in fear that you might accidentally say more than you wanted to.

It’s fine, he was really drunk from the sounds of it so he probably won’t even remember it right? I mean, the last time he got super drunk, he didn’t remember challenging the bartender to a pushup fight so... so he won’t remember.... right?

You paced in your room for a bit, glancing at your phone every five seconds to see if there was any sort of notification from either of your friends. But nothing.

You barely slept a wink that night, tossing and turning while facing dreams of Akaashi laughing in your face the next time you saw him.

You thought I meant that? It was just a joke, Y/N.

I only see you as a friend, sorry.

Don’t you think you’re reading into our friendship a little too much? That’s all there is. Friendship.

The idea of Akaashi awkwardly laughing in your face, giving you that half smile while dismissing your feelings haunted you for hours. By the time the sun came up, you gave up on the idea of sleeping and threw your blanket off of you. It was time to figure out how to survive your day without thinking about Akaashi Keiji at all.

It wasn’t easy. Everything reminded you of him. Half of your Netflix was shows you were watching with him, or movies you’d already seen with him next to you. Your homework wasn’t any help either (though you definitely needed to get it done). Akaashi would normally come over and study with you, his adorable glasses making him look like some young professor, twirling his pencil around in his fingers while nodding along to some song stuck in his head. You couldn’t get used to studying on your own.

Radio silence finally broke when you texted Bokuto, asking if they all made it home safe last night and he responded with a very badly spelled text message saying, “himw safe so tirwd need adcil heaf hurtinh” (aka. home safe so tired need advil head hurting)

Your lips curled into a small smile - at least Bokuto was alive. And the fact that he wasn’t all up in your face about Akaashi meant that the setter probably hadn’t said anything last night, or at least, it meant that Bokuto was too busy tending to a hangover to think about it.

A knock on your door made you jump, watching it for a moment before slowly approaching.

“Oi, open up, I know you’re in there.”

You calculated the odds and realistically there were only 3 reasons why Akaashi would be at your door right now, while he was still probably very hungover.

A. He was tired of listening to Bokuto complain about being hungover while also hungover and wanted you to help take care of him.

B. He wasn’t actually hungover and wanted to hang out.

C. He remembered your phone call from last night and wanted to confront you about it.

...

There was no way it was B or C so... it had to be A right?

You opened the door with a smile on your face, trying to pretend like this was the first time you spoke to him since you saw him earlier yesterday.

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” You asked, welcoming him in and watching his movements as he shuffled inside. He was wearing his sunglasses and wincing a little so... it definitely wasn’t B. He was definitely still hungover.

“Good morning to you too,” Akaashi chuckled slightly, groaning as he made his way over to your couch and flopped onto it. “God, my head is killing me,” he grumbled.

You felt almost a bit of relief - he wasn’t bringing it up so... it must mean that C wasn’t an option right? “I’ll make you some tea. Want something to eat?”

He made a noise that you assumed was a yes, grabbing some ramen packages that you liked to have whenever you were hungover.

“How’re the boys?” You asked as soon as the tea was finished, handing it to him as he sat up with a huff.

“Fine... I told them I didn’t want to get drunk,” he rolled his eyes. “But Bokuto kept pouring shots and being a little bitch when I didn’t want to have them... something about how he didn’t want to lose his best friend or something.”

You laughed, shaking your head slowly as you moved back to your little kitchen, “You’re always so busy studying. Bokuto probably just misses having you around.”

“We live together.”

“Ya well you’re always either on campus or here with me so I can see why he’d miss you,” you smirked, humming softly to yourself as you let the noodles cook. Things were okay. Things were normal. Things were going to be fine - all your worries were slipping away-

“So are we not going to talk about it?”

Akaashi’s voice made you jump, turning around to find him standing right behind you and slowly sipping on the tea.

“Fuck, Akaashi, don’t do that,” you glared at him, hitting his arm, “Could’ve made me burn myself.”

“Sorry,” he gave you a small smile, leaning against the nearby counter. “But we are going to talk about it, aren’t we?”

The ramen so clearly needed stirring and stirring was a full focus kind of job and this was obviously why you were looking into the pot and not looking at Akaashi, even though you could feel his eyes watching you, “Talk about what? Bokuto missing you?”

Akaashi chuckled and lifted his finger to under your chin, tilting your face to look at him, “I drank a lot. But I don’t think any amount of alcohol could make me forget how embarrassing I was.”

“Embarrassing?”

He watched your eyes for a moment before pulling his hand away from you and looking down at his tea, his smile slowly stiffening, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable. I just thought I should apologize and let you know that you don’t have to reject me or anything. I like being friends with you and that’s enough for me, even if there’s a part of me that wants more.”

You almost dropped your spoon on the floor, staring at him with wide eyes, “S-Sorry what? Apologize? For... for what?”

“For confessing to you while drunk,” Akaashi’s smile was turning more sad now, taking a slow sip from his tea. “I’d been considering telling you how I feel for a while now and I guess I should’ve stopped myself from drinking sooner to save you the embarrassment.”

“Embarrassment? Akaashi, don’t be an idiot,” you ignored the soup still dripping from the spoon and whacked his arm with it.

“Hey!”

“You’re telling me you were drunk enough to confess to me and to remember what you said but not remember what I said at the end?” You huffed, hands on your hips now.

Akaashi’s eyes lifted to the ceiling in thought, his lips pursing slowly like he did when he was concentrating on getting an answer right on his homework, “I know you seemed mad,” he finally responded, shrugging a bit. “I figured it was cause I put you on the spot like that.”

“No you absolute meathead, it’s because after months and months of pining after you, weeks of Bokuto almost spilling my secret on multiple different occasions to you, him almost screaming to you once about how much I love you, you end up telling me you love me over a drunk phone call and I can’t tell if you’re being serious or just a drunk dummy!” You scold him, hitting his arm again with your hand and shaking your head. God, for a boy with as high of an average as he had, how is it possible that there were no brain cells running around in that head of his?

Akaashi smirked a little, watching your eyes as you ranted, a playful smile on his lips, “So... you love me huh?”

“You better get out of my sight before I dump this ramen on your head,” you glare at him, trying your best not to smile because his smile was just so contagious but ugh that evil little smirk of his-

His lips were suddenly on your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to your skin and letting you feel the smirk still toying on his expression, “Drunk or not. I do love you, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y-Yeah yeah whatever,” you avoid his eyes some more, your whole face feeling hot and your cheek tingling where he had kissed you. “Go sit, it’s almost done.”

“Not until you say it back,” he teased, hugging you from behind and peppering your cheeks with some more kisses. “You said you love me, you can’t take it back now. Say it again.”

“Why?” you laughed, trying to pull away from his tight hug.

“Because it’s the best news I’ve ever gotten and I want to hear you say it again and again and again,” he insisted, turning you around to face him and smiling down at you. “Pretty please?”

You sighed with a smile on your face because as annoying as he could be, you really did mean it when you tell him, “I love you too, Akaashi.”

Alone time with Akaashi lasted long enough for him to properly ask you to go on a date with him to that ice cream shop, and was then interrupted by Bokuto showing up at your door and inviting himself in with a grin.

Apparently, the cure to Bokuto’s hangover was just knowing his two best friends had finally confessed to each other.

“God, I thought he’d never get drunk enough,” Bokuto grinned proudly to himself after you had happily explained the details to him. “I thought I’d have to just keep ordering him drinks.”

“What?” Akaashi glared at him, putting the pieces together.

Bokuto just smirked mischievously, “You can’t get mad cause it worked. I figured it would take a miracle to get you two to confess. And getting you drunk is basically a miracle.”

The fact that you were laughing made Akaashi want to kill Bokuto a little less, and even though he glared some more at his best friend, he would secretly thank him later for helping him get the courage to get the girl of his dreams. As much as Bokuto could get on his nerves sometimes, it really would be thanks to him that Akaashi got to take you out on that cute date and tell you just how much he loves you every day.

haikyuu taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@al0ehas @aurumk @neko-chii1 @thisnoodlewritesao3 @satan-ruler-of-hells @trashy-simp @jeppiet @tobi-momo @darkvadeeer @haikyuutothetop @livy384 @babyshoyo @jesssobs @b-bakana

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #haikyuu x reader #hq akaashi #haikyuu fluff #pies writes

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laurentspup · 3 years ago

Text

New B*tch (Sugar B*by Laurent AU)

Me: I’m gonna start plotting this AU

also me: here is more horny drabbles wooooohhh!!

“Jokaste is coming today?” Laurent asks as he casually walks in Damianos’ office. He doesn’t knock despite being Damianos’ subordinate. He is, first and foremost, his baby.

Damianos looks up at him and gives an effortful smile despite the grimace that paints his face. He welcomes seeing Laurent, not so much the news that he brings. He looks grim, Laurent notices, but still delicious as ever. His suit jacket is discarded on the coat rack behind him, leaving him in his maroon dress shirt, buttons almost popping off his chest. His beefy biceps scream to be set free as he puts down the pen he is holding, every movement Laurent watches carefully, licking his lips. He badly wants those biceps around him, not now though, now isn’t the time to be horny… yet.

“Yeah… she’s now Kastor’s secretary, so it can’t be helped.” He rubs his face exasperatedly as he explains to Laurent.

He feels pity for Damianos. Jokaste truly hurt him with her decision to be a backstabbing liar and cheater. According to the news outlets, they had been dating since Damianos was pronounced heir of Ios Corp. five years ago, but she was an ambitious woman, thus, she decided to double her chances with Kastor. If only she didn’t get caught.

Damianos just wants to move on, but everywhere he goes the world throws her back at him. As he said though, it can’t be helped. Jokaste becoming his half-brother’s fiancée truly made the family dinners more awkward. Her constant presence looms at him like a buzzing fly that won’t leave. Laurent badly wishes he can slap that fly dead. He hates that they have to keep seeing her and her cheating face, but that’s just how this game was played.

Since Laurent’s job encompasses more than his secretary duties, he puts down the iPad that holds Damianos’ schedule and walks behind his desk. He automatically pulls back to give Laurent space to sit on his lap. It came naturally to them now, Damianos accepting the fact that Laurent will do whatever he wants. If what he wants is to sit on him in his office, then Laurent will be given whatever he desires. Laurent knows it, that Damianos is wrapped around his fingers like the diamond-studded ring he has given him. Though he isn’t quite sure why, he’d rather gracefully accept gifts than exhaust himself to find out.

Laurent straddles Damianos lap and wiggles over his cock that reacts a little too quickly.

“Baby.” Damianos warns, putting his hands on his waist and squeezing. God, Laurent loves how those hands grip his waist. Pushing Damianos’ buttons always results in a really good time for him.

Still, he ceases wiggling on Damianos’ lap. He understands the unspoken command and gives in right away. He can be good when he wants. As a reward, Damianos’ right hand gently touches his cheek and caresses it with his thumb. Immediately, he melts with the touch. Really, whether Damianos is soft or rough on him, he gets turned on.

“You look so pretty today, baby.” Damianos tells him.

“I know.” Laurent answers, never letting his eyes stray from Damianos’ own.

“Your neck’s a little empty, though.” Damianos’ hand moves to his neck, gentle fingers sliding over his throat.

“It is.”

“Let’s fix that.” He reaches over him to get something on the table. Laurent’s head is now beside his neck, so he licks it. “Behave.” He complies.

Damianos leans back to his position, not showing what he got for Laurent yet. No matter what it is, Laurent is excited. He loves anything Damianos gives him, especially since he knows it is never short of a thousand dollars.

“I had this custom made for you.” He says as he raises his hands and fits a choker over Laurent’s neck. He reaches over the desk again to grab a mirror, one he readied for Laurent.

“Daddy.” Laurent says when he sees his reflection. He touches the choker. It’s a simple, thin, gold band with a crown pendant. It feels heavy and expensive. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s real gold.” Laurent expects nothing less.

“I love it.” He says, then he leans in to kiss Damianos. He adores this man. Where else will he find anyone who will give him anything he wants just because. Damianos knows he likes jewelry, likes being pretty, and he gives Laurent’s all the finest things so he can be just that.

“I’m glad you like it.” Damianos says as he leans back and touches the crown pendant. Laurent looks at him like he gave him the moon. If he asks for it, he knows Damianos will give it. “I can have them make you more.”

Laurent leans in again and kisses Damianos savagely. He runs his hands through his hair and goes back to grinding his hips. Damianos groans. Lust starts to consume him. This time, he lets Laurent grind on him, hands on his hips guiding, instead of stopping. He bites Laurent’s bottom lip which makes him moan.

“Quiet, baby.” Damianos commands, gripping his ass. He lets out a moan again. Damianos kisses him harder.

They continue to breathe in each other, forgetting the space they are in. Damianos is the boss anyway, no one should enter without telling his secretary first. Luckily, his secretary isn’t even out there.

Laurent starts to unbutton Damianos’ shirt when someone knocks on the door. Hesitantly, Damianos pulls away from him. He pants while touching Laurent’s forehead with his own. His thumbs massage over Laurent’s hips.

“It’s your two o’clock.” Laurent whispers, eyes closed. He’s still grinding on Damianos. He can feel both of their hard cocks. He wonders how much it will take for one of them to lose control.

“My secretary should tell her to come in.”

“Hm. He should.” Laurent leans back in, not caring at all that there is someone waiting outside.

Damianos kisses him back while chuckling. She knocks again.

They pull apart once more, Laurent fitting his head in the crook of Damianos’ neck. He’s still grinding his hips, trying to find friction and release. He doesn’t leave his lap. Damianos doesn’t make him. He doesn’t even still Laurent’s grinding. He is hard too, just as desperate as Laurent.

“We really should let her in.” Damianos says, not moving to do anything.

“You’re right.” Still in the heat of the moment, an idea pops into Laurent’s head. He raises his head so his mouth can get close to Damianos’ ear. “I’m going to do something.”

Again, Damianos just lets him. Slowly, he slides off his lap and kneels on the floor. He’s in between Damianos’ legs under his desk. He looks up at him and winks. He doesn’t look away as he leans his head close to Damianos’ erection. His eyes grow wide when Laurent kisses over the fabric.

“Laurent—“ Damianos puts his hand on Laurent’s head.

“Shh.” Laurent starts touching his still clothed erection while kissing it. “This is my thank you for the necklace.”

Damianos’ office phone buzzes. “I’m here.” An irritated voice announces.

“Tell her to come in.” Laurent instructs, lips on Damianos’ cock, tongue poking out to tease. He wants to unzip it. He craves the warmth and girth of Damianos’ cock in his mouth. If only Jokaste isn’t here to interrupt.

Damianos, under Laurent’s spell, as if Laurent is the boss here and not him, immediately complies. He clicks a button on the phone. “Come in.” His voice is hoarse.

Jokaste opens the door angrily. “You have a shitty secretary.”

The secretary mentioned immediately stops stroking Damianos’ cock, then slowly and gracefully stands up from the ground. He faces Jokaste and with a straight face, swallows, licks his lips, and wipes it sensually, heavily implying what he just did— even though he didn’t, but she doesn’t need to know that. She stops walking. He brushes dust off his knees.

“Oh? But didn’t you quit and sucked off his brother’s dick?” Laurent comments. Damianos coughs his laugh.

Jokaste doesn’t react. She leisurely walks, acting like she still owns this place. “So you’re his replacement cocksucker?”

“Yes. His previous one didn’t satisfy him.” She doesn’t bother Laurent. She can start a fight all she wants, Damianos isn’t hers anymore.

“Am I interrupting something, then?” She asks, sitting on his couch. The center too, as if she is a queen on her rightful throne. It’s fine. Laurent’s throne is Damianos’ lap. She can’t reclaim that. “By all means, continue.”

“And give you a free show of the dick you gave up? No, thank you.” Laurent sits on Damianos’ lap again. He looks at his daddy who watches them both quietly. He is a man caught in a stand-off between two vipers. “Sorry about that, daddy.”

Damianos looks at him and smiles kindly. He touches Laurent’s cheek. Laurent isn’t sure if he’s just putting an act in front of Jokaste. “That’s alright, baby. I had a good time.”

“I have to go now. Your two o’clock is waiting.” Laurent kisses Damianos’ cheek.

“I thought you weren’t giving me a show?” Says the two o’clock. They didn’t spare her a glance.

“I’ll see you later, baby.” Damianos kisses Laurent again as he stands up.

“Buzz if she starts something.” Laurent says as he walks to the door.

“I will.”

Laurent looks at Jokaste one last time before going out. She’s staring at him too.

“I’m sorry that Kastor’s dick doesn’t satisfy you, that's why you have to keep showing up here.” He steps out and lets the door close on its own, not bothering to hear her reply.

***

Hope you liked it!

#someday im gonna start at chapter 1 for this au #that day is not today #look i am a simple woman #i have ideas i write i post #bcs i am insane impatient no self control #sugar baby laurent au #modern lamen #modern lamen au #Captive Prince #damen x laurent #laurent x damen #if you guys have any ideas feel free to message me #let us be think insane thoughts together lolol #also censoring glucose infant bcs i am tired of bots

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