#it was such a good idea and what i wrote is so basic sigh | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smileysuh · 2 months ago

Text

deal maker

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, breast worship, pussy eating, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, multiple sex positions, multiple reader orgasms, cumming together, dry humping, foreplay, slight corruption kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) sweetheart.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 8.7k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, Halloween, supernatural/demon au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. Happy Halloween!

One: her

If it weren’t for the fact that you’re in the middle of a library, you might just scream. You know your workload increases with each year you’re in university, but there’s something sinister about the amount of book-related essays you have right before Halloween.

You’re doing your best to focus, and you’ve read the entirety of the ‘Frankenstein’ book that you’re supposed to be analyzing, but you just can’t find words.

A massive sigh escapes you, and your best friend, Hwasa, casts you a sideways glance. “You good, babes?” she asks.

“I just- I can’t do this,” you groan. “It’s a completely open ended prompt- I could write about anything I want to, and all things considered, five thousand words isn’t the longest essay ever- but, damn, I seriously can’t think right now.”

She nods sympathetically. “Do you really think you’re at rock bottom on this?”

“I don’t see how I could go any lower.”

“Okay, well,” she scoots her chair closer to you, her voice lowering, “i wouldn’t suggest this otherwise, but uh- have you ever thought about contacting the Sigma Veta Tau demon?”

“The what?” you stare at her blankly.

“Of course you wouldn’t know about him, you’re a goody goody,” Hwasa sighs. “Basically, there’s this guy in the SVT frat who makes deals and does your work for you.”

“What’s this have to do with being a demon?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just a weird myth- basically, this guy helped me with an essay last year worth thirty percent of my grade. All he asked for was a family heirloom, and I think it’s his weird choice of price for favours that get him the whole ‘demon’ thing cuz he doesn’t usually ask for money like other dudes who write your papers would.”

“How did you do? On the essay?” you ask.

“Got an A. He doesn’t overdo it, he does enough to get you a good grade but not so good it’s obvious you didn’t do the work.”

“So… is he an actual demon, or?” You cock your head to the side, trying to understand the whole demon relevance.

“Nah, like I said, he’s just some hot nerd who wrote my essay. It wasn’t sketchy at all.”

“And he does this for a lot of people?”

“I’ve heard about a few. I know his friend Dokyeom was close to failing his Kinesiology course and somehow Wonwoo did his final exam for him and helped him pass.”

You let out a small laugh. You’re familiar with the Sigma Veta Tau frat, and DK is a well known figure there- getting someone to help him pass Kinesiology is very characteristic to the loud gym bro. “Wait, but, how did Wonwoo pull it off? They ID you at the final exams, don’t they?”

Hwasa shrugs. “I guess the dude pulls off miracles every once in a blue moon, maybe that’s part of his ‘demonic’ reputation.”

“Are we sure this a good idea?” you ask.

“Making a deal with the Devil?” Hwasa clarifies. “Of course, what could go wrong?”

You laugh at her choice of words.

This Wonwoo guy definitely isn’t the Devil… and even if he was, what would making a deal with him even really include?

You’re skeptical to say the least, but looking back at your worn out book, and your laptop document open with zero words- you begin to wonder if maybe this Wonwoo guy is a good way to solve your current predicament.

Two:

Wonwoo quite enjoys living on campus. He loves the onslaught to his senses every time he’s out and about, mingling with university kids who have way too much on their plate. No one ever notices him, no one ever notices the things that are slightly… off about him, they’re much too busy focusing on this week’s term paper, or this week’s quiz.

No, Wonwoo’s extremely happy being exactly where he is. He’s lounging in a coffee shop that connects to the book store, his eyes darting from person to person, assessing-

That’s when his gaze locks with someone familiar.

Hwasa had come to him last year, needing an essay completed. It had been one of Wonwoo’s easier tasks, as he’s read the source material upwards of twenty times in his long life. He’s seen her around campus a few times since then, but she’s never approached him, not the way she is now.

“Hi, Wonwoo!” Hwasa grins, demenour as bubbly as ever.

The frat boy simply nods, his gaze turning to assess you as you stand next to your friend.

“This is y/n,” Hwasa introduces you. “She’s actually struggling with an essay right now-”

“Hate to hear about an academic struggle,” Wonwoo interrupts, “especially while enjoying my coffee.” His eyes return to you again. “If you ever need a tutor, you should swing by the frat.”

“I would appreciate that,” you nod, a little breathless.

It’s clear there’s something off about you too- your heard rate is going faster than the average rate, and you’re finding it difficult to meet his gaze.

Ah, things click in Wonwoo’s head, this particular set of responses isn’t something he’s unfamiliar with. Many girls react this way to him, getting ‘flustered,’ as humans would say.

However, what is unfamiliar, is the way Wonwoo himself is reacting to it. He finds it cute, endearing in a way- as opposed to the annoyed feeling he usually gets when women are easily infatuated with him.

“Here,” Wonwoo breathes smoothly, picking up a pen from his notepad. “Give me your hand.”

Your gaze flickers to Hwasa for a moment, and then you’re reaching forward. Wonwoo grasps your wrist, enjoying the warmth of your skin and the way you jolt from his touch. He quickly writes his phone number down on your inner palm. “Give me a call about tutoring you sometime, we can discuss details then.”

“O-okay,” you nod, immediately taking your hand back when he’s finished, cradling it close to your chest.

“If that’s all you two have to say to me,” Wonwoo breathes, looking between you and Hwasa, “I’d love to get back to my coffee.”

Three:

“Hey, I’m at the frat, where are you?” you ask as you answer your best friend’s call. You feel so awkward just standing here, trying to look like you belong even though you’re sure you stand out in the all boys frat village.

“Babes, I’m so sorry- I’m at this study group and it’s going mega late, I didn’t even realize the time and I’m across campus-”

You let out a sigh. “Are you seriously going to make me do this alone?”

“You’ll be fine!” Hwasa assures you. “Wonwoo won’t bite, it’s the daylight after all.”

She giggles, and you roll your eyes. You’re still not sure how you feel about this whole ‘demon’ thing, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little afraid to enter a fratboy den of wolves alone.

“You’ve got this,” Hwasa says again. “If you need anything, just text me, and remember, I stalk your snapchat location so if anything happens-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh. “Okay, I can do this.”

“That’s the spirit!”

You hang up on Hwasa, taking a deep breath and turning to the front door. You approach cautiously, raising your hand and knocking three times.

It takes a couple of moments, but eventually, a man opens the door. You recougnize Jeonghan, he’s the frat president’s right hand man, a business major with a reputation for hitting on every girl he meets.

“Well, look who it is,” Jeonghan grins, leaning against the doorframe with his shoulder while he shovels some cereal into his mouth from the bowl in his hand.

He’s in an oversized white shirt and sweatpants, you’d bet he hasn’t been to classes today- and fuck it, he looks handsome, all the SVT men do.

“Sorry, hi, I’m here for Wonwoo, but I don’t think we’ve actually met,” you say awkwardly, holding out a hand.

Jeonghan’s gaze falls to your extended palm, and he chuckles. “Wonwoo gets all the cute girls,” he says, moving away from the door frame to let you inside, “but none of them ever stick around.”

“I’m here to study,” you try to explain.

“Sure you are,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. You follow him through the entryway living space, pausing as he heads back into the connected kitchen. “Wonwoo’s room is the third floor, first door on the left.” You stand there for a few moments, and Jeonghan cocks his head to the side. “You have no clue where the stairs are, do you?”

“Nope.”

“That door,” he points with his spoon. “Don’t get lost.”

He’s a bit of an odd one, and with a final thank you, you scurry away, following his directions past a door and up three flights of stairs. You pause outside the first room on the left, swallowing thickly before you knock.

“Come in!” Wonwoo’s voice calls out.

Before you can push the door open, it opens by itself, and you half expect Wonwoo to be standing there- only to find him seated on his bed with a book in his hands.

He’s in a black hoodie and matching sweatpants. His hood is up, but his dark curls are poking out, toying with the rims of glasses that set of the sharp angles of his face.

“What was your name again?” he asks.

“Uh-” you cough. “Y/N.” The door opening by itself had freaked you out, and you wonder how true the whole demon thing is- God, that’s been on your mind a lot.

“Come in, relax, and tell me what I can do for you,” he instructs, using his foot to push out a chair near his bed.

You swallow thickly again, closing the door behind you and approaching. You take a seat, letting out a breath. “So basically I have an essay on Frankenstein- have you read it?”

“Of course. Have you?” he counters.

“Yeah, I’ve read it, but uh… anyways, it’s due on Halloween, which is two weeks away, and I have so many other essays to write-”

“What’s the topic?”

“Open ended.”

“How many words?”

“Five thousand.”

“That doesn’t seem very hard,” he muses with a grin, slotting a marker between his pages so he can rest his book on his chest, getting a better look at you.

“Usually it wouldn’t be, but I’m just blanking- I don’t even know where to start.” You release a stressed breath. “So I brought a family heirloom.”

Wonwoo just looks at you, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement.

“Hwasa said she paid you last time with her grandmothe’rs broach?” you try to explain.

“My price is different for everyone,” Wonwoo tells you, holding out a hand. “Let’s see what you brought.”

“It’s my aunt’s.” You give the necklace to him. “She got it to me to celebrate graduating highschool and getting into university.”

Wonwoo inspects the delicate silver chain, looking at the crescent moon charm with an opal in the middle. “It’s obviously valuable,” he says, handing it back to you, “but I can tell it’s not very sentimental.”

“So…” you fidget with the necklace in your palm, “what do you want?”

Wonwoo’s eyes begin to scan your form, and suddenly you feel very uncomfortable. It’s as if he’s undressing you in his mind, and it makes you fidget in your seat. His gaze lands on your chest, and you fight the urge to cover your tits-

He sits up, reaching forward- You hold your breath as his fingers brush by your collar bones, too close to the swell of your breasts for your liking- and then he’s lifting your necklace, leaning even closer to inspect it.

You can feel his breath on your skin, and he’s so close- God, why is something as simple as this so erotic? You’ve dealt with pretty boys before, but there’s something about a pretty, nerdy, dangerous boy-

“Where did you get this?” he asks, thumb smoothing across the golden heart attached to the chain on your neck.

It’s hard to find your voice, but after a moment, you’re able to respond. “It was uh- it was from my last boyfriend.”

“An ex?” His gaze lifts to you.

“Yeah.” You can feel your skin heating.

“And you didn’t get rid of it?”

“I figure I bought him a bunch of stuff while we were dating, pretty sure this was only fifty bucks or something, so I guess I thought I deserved to keep it.”

Wonwoo nods. You watch his gaze dip to your lips, just for a moment, and then he’s releasing your necklace and leaning back into his bed again. “That will work.”

“It will?” you ask in shock.

“Uh huh. There’s a certain sort of sentimentality to it. Also… even though you say you kept it because you deserved it, buying him so many things or whatever, I think it’s a shame that a pretty girl like you is still holding onto something from the past, instead of looking at your future. I’ll take it off your hands, and you can progress now, with more than just your essay.”

You wonder what sort of motive Wonwoo has, what significance a necklace from your ex actually has on a man who’s practically a stranger.

“Okay,” you murmur, reaching behind your throat to undo the clasp. “So… how does this work now?”

“A five thousand word open ended essay on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein…” Wonwoo takes his glasses off, wiping them with his hoodie. “I guess, you give me some time to think it through, I text you, and you come see me again.”

You watch the way he puts his spectacles back onto his face- it’s shocking how small, simple, mundane motions can be so beautiful when completed by a man like him.

“Okay,” you nod. “I guess… I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“You will,” he agrees. “Bye for now.”

He relaxes against his pillows, lifting his book and immediately turning his attention to it.

You stand up and leave without another word, your heart racing in your chest.

Once you’re outside the frat house, you call Hwasa.

“So how did it go?” she asks. “He didn’t kill you, so that’s good news!”

“He also didn’t want the family heirloom,” you sigh.

“So what did he want?”

“My necklace, you know, the one from my ex.”

“That’s weird, why would he want that?”

“Hell if I know,” you groan. “Hwasa… he’s not an actual demon, right?”

“Of course not!” she laughs.

You wish you were as certain as she is. There’s definitely something otherworldly about Jeon Wonwoo, and one of these days, you’re going to put your finger on exactly what is different about him from any other man you’ve ever met.

Four:

Wonwoo is standing by his window, examining the necklace in his hand. It’s such a simple little thing, but there’s so much energy tied to it. Wonwoo can see the dark aura- a tie to a past that it’s clear you’d rather forget.

Usually, Wonwoo collects items with soul ties. Family heirlooms are the easiest, as they’re connected to multiple people in different generations. When one of those people with a soul connection to the item dies, Wonwoo deams if they’re a worthy enough spirit to take as payment for his favours.

In Hwasa’s case, both of her grandparents had died recently. The grandmother had gone first, followed quickly by the grandfather, and it was the older male that Wonwoo had chosen to take for himself. His soul had been dark, a signifier of the evil in his heart when he’d been on earth.

For a demon, Wonwoo actually likes humans. He only accepts contracts that allow him to collect on bad souls, souls that he deems worthy of eternal damnation.

Many of his kind have asked him why he’d chosen a university to call home, and in simple terms, it’s because at heart, Wonwoo has an erudite flecked soul. He loves learning, more than he’s ever loved being a demon.

He got to a point in his life where he figured, if he was going to be around forever, he might as well learn everything.

Besides all that, university is easy, students come to him, he hardly had to do any work. Students are always anxious, always busy and in need of support to get work done. They hardly think of the heirloom they pawned off to a frat boy in return for an essay or a test- and since Wonwoo waits for natural deaths to collect the souls tied to the items, there’s no harm no fowl.

With all of this being said, Wonwoo’s not used to taking an item like yours. There are only two souls tied to it, your own, and your ex boyfriend’s… Wonwoo knows which one he’ll collect.

He’s not sure why he feels protective of you… there’s just something in your aura that calls to him, something he can’t explain.

He knows that this job will be different, in more ways than one, but something inside of Wonwoo is ready for the change, after all, it’s been a very long time coming.

Five:

“You’re back,” Jeonghan muses when he opens the door to the frat for you. “That’s a first.”

“Hi,” you say meekly, forcing a smile. You’re still not sure how you feel about any of this, and knowing that what Wonwoo’s doing with you is unusual doesn’t help ease your anxieties.

“He’s in the kitchen,” Jeonghan sighs, opening the door wider so you can pass. As you move by him, a hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. “He’s never cooked for anyone, so, just keep that in mind.”

God, these men are so odd-

You find Wonwoo in the kitchen, his back to you. He’s in a black t-shirt and it stretches tight across his broad shoulders. His curls are a little messy, as if he’s been sleeping, and when he turns to you, you find he’s not wearing his glasses.

Why is he just as pretty without glasses as he is with glasses?

This feels unfair. This feels like- well, it shouldn’t be legal, for starters.

“Hey.” Wonwoo flashes you a smile and you just about melt. You can feel your skin heating, and you hate how your body betrays you, betrays the inner lustings that take over every time you look at this nerdy hot frat boy.

“Hi,” you respond, feeling like a complete idiot as you approach Wonwoo.

“You hungry?” He looks down at the pan in front of him. “I’ve been making steak and eggs.”

“Actually, I’m really just here about the essay,” you try to explain.

“Oh, right.” Wonwoo focuses on the sunny side up egg he’s making, “Give me one sec.”

You watch him finish up his meal. You’re not used to watching a man cook, and you're surprised at how skilled he is. There’s something very attractive about the way he shovels the egg out of the pan, adding it to his plate with the finished steak.

“Okay, let’s go.” Wonwoo leads you back up to his room. He takes a seat at his work table. “You can go on the bed,” he suggests, cutting open an egg. You watch the orange yolk drip, the way he scoops some up with steak.

He’s way too attractive.

“You sure you don’t want any?” he asks. “It’s perfectly medium rare.”

“A little too rare for me,” you admit, immediately realizing your mistake. “It looks amazing, sorry, I’m just not hungry.”

“Sounds good. So let's talk your essay.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve decided I’m not going to write it for you.”

“What?” It feels like the air is knocked out of your chest, and you stare at Wonwoo in confusion. “But uh… you took my necklace, and you wrote Hwasa’s essay-”

“It’s busy season.” Wonwoo waves his fork around absentmindedly. “The deal is, you come here, we work together, and when you need help, I’ll help. When you need a final edit, I’ll final edit.”

“Uh…” Your mind is spinning. “If you’re not going to help, I can really just do it myself.”

“I think we both know my help will be important,” Wonwoo points out. “Look, you’re a good girl. Don’t you want to feel like you did it yourself? When you came here the first time, I noticed you were hesitant, I don’t think this is something you’re used to doing.”

“I’m not,” you admit, shocked at his ability to read you.

“With a five thousand word count, this will only take two or three hard study sessions top, in fact, since I have my steak and eggs, we can start now.”

“I didn’t even bring my book-”

“I’ve got a copy right here.” Wonwoo spins his chair, reaching for his bookshelf. He pulls out a worn version of Frankenstein, handing it to you. “I’ve got notes in here, if you want to flip through it, I’m sure you’ll find something to inspire your essay.”

You take a deep breath.

Should you do this? Should you sit here and study with him? What was the point of giving him your necklace if he’s not going to write it for you?

“You’ll keep me on track?” you ask.

Wonwoo offers you a lopsided grin. “Uh huh.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Six:

It’s your second session with Wonwoo. You’ve been carrying his version of Frankenstein around like a bible- the notes, carefully hand written into the margins, are so insightful and inspiring. At this point, you’ve reread the whole book just to get a chance to understand Wonwoo’s musings on every page.

You feel alight with determination, and your thoughts feel focused- you’re as focused with Wonwoo as you’ve ever been, which feels odd given how distracting he is.

It’s intimate in a way, to be so close to him, doing your own work while sharing a space-

Your phone buzzes, breaking your concentration.

Wonwoo looks up at you, pausing his reading. “Who’s that, your boyfriend?”

You let out a small laugh. “Just Hwasa checking in on me to make sure I’m okay with our tutoring session, you’ve got a reputation you know.”

“Do I?” Wonwoo grins, resting his book on his abdomen.

“Uh huh, people say you’re a demon or something. Apparently coming here for help with school is a deal with the devil.”

Wonwoo laughs. “That’s definitely a theory. What do you think?”

“At the moment, I’m not quite sure,” you admit. “All I know is, you’re helping me with this essay, and that’s what matters.”

“You know how you can check if I’m a demon?” Wonwoo asks.

“How?”

“Come touch my head, see if there are any horns.”

Wonwoo is giving you a challenging look, and for some reason, you can’t resist.

You put your laptop to the side, sitting up. “Really?”

“Like I said, only one way to find out if I’m a demon.”

You move toward him, standing off the bed to approach where he’s seated at his desk. “Honestly… maybe this isn’t the best idea. I trust you, I don’t have to feel your head for horns.”

“I really wish you would though,” Wonwoo counters, and there’s a serious edge to his tone. His eyes are bright, looking up at you. It’s like you’re suspended in time and space, staring at each other, holding your breaths.

You reach toward his head, in the back of your mind, you’re worried he might bite you- but Wonwoo stays perfectly still. He watches your every movement, and soon, your fingers are smoothing through his curls.

Wonwoo holds back a groan at the feeling of your touch. He wants to lean in toward you, but doesn’t want to scare you off. It’s clear to him from your body language that you’re as hesitant about this as you had been when you’d first come to him for help with your essay.

You’re so soft, so pure, and he loves it.

He can hear your heart beginning to thunder in your chest as you smooth around his head, searching for horns.

God, humans are so gullible, but it’s adorable when it’s you being this way.

“Okay, no horns,” you confirm, tearing your hand back like you’ve just been burned.

You turn away, returning to his bed, and Wonwoo can practically feel the heat coming off of you.

“Get back to work,” he says softly, loving the way he gets to sneak looks at you while you’re deep in thought.

This arrangement is too perfect- Wonwoo hates that it will soon be coming to an end. You’ve been very productive, and as much as he’d like to take credit for it, it’s your own doing.

In some odd way, he’s proud of you, and it’s a feeling he’s never quite experienced before.

Seven:

You can’t believe it’s your final session with your ‘tutor’. The amount you’ve gotten done in two separate days with Wonwoo is ridiculous-

He’s your lucky charm, and it’s odd how much someone can come to mean to you in such a short time.

“Okay,” you sigh, finishing your last line of work. “I’m done.”

“Time for edits then,” Wonwoo responds, slotting a bookmark into what he’s reading before descarding the novel on his sidetable. He approaches you, sitting onto the bed. He’s so close that you can feel his shoulder against yours. He’s so warm, in the best of ways.

He’s reading over your shoulder, and you can feel his breath on your skin. God, this closeness is doing something to you- your pussy is actually beginning to throb, and it’s becoming uncomfortable.

“Here.” You hand your laptop over to him, watching anxiously as he begins to read your essay from the top.

You’re so focused on him- each second feels like an eternity as he makes his way through your writing, discussing small edits with you as he goes through it.

“This is good,” Wonwoo muses, making it all the way to the end. “You did really well, and with two days to spare. I’m proud of you.”

“Guess I don’t have to be stressed for Halloween,” you grin, releasing a deep breath.

“Speaking of, do you have any plans?”

“I haven’t even thought that far ahead,” you admit with a laugh.

“Well, if nothing else, we throw a great frat party, you’re more than welcome to come.”

“You know what?” You stretch your arms above your head, releasing a deep breath. “I might just stop by.”

Eight:

Wonwoo’s walking through campus when he senses something- and that something can only ever be you. He’s become accustomed to your aura, and his gaze immediately finds you, heading across the green with a friend by your side.

Your eyes meet, and Wonwoo flashes you a smile, not expecting anything to come of it.

He’s surprised when you approach, calling his name. “Wonwoo! Oh my gosh, hi!”

“Hey,” he grins, stopping in his tracks to give you a once over. He wishes he could be more subtle about his attraction to you, but by the way you take him in, it’s clear that it’s not something that’s one sided.

“Yeji, this is the tutor I was telling you about! He helped me finish my essay in three sessions.”

“It was really more like two,” Wonwoo corrects you, then his eyes find your friend. “She did all the work, believe me.”

“Yeah, after I read your notes on the book,” you grin. “He’s not even an English major, but he picks up more details in novels than I ever could.”

Wonwoo’s not used to compliments like this, especially not from pretty girls. Most just accept his work and figure their payment was a job well done enough. He doesn’t even know how to respond, and for a demon of his age, this sort of thing never happens.

You’re so pure and sweet- God, he likes you so much. But there’s something beneath the attraction, there’s a want- a want to corrupt you, a want to see how far you’ll go for him, how dirty you’ll be just for him.

“Are you two coming to the party tomorrow?” Wonwoo asks, finding a way to divert the attention away from himself.

You and Yeji exchange a look, and it’s your friend who nods. “We’ll be there.”

Nine:

You don’t go to frats often, but your attraction to Wonwoo drives you through the front doors of the packed house. Everyone is dressed accordingly, and you take a moment just to appreciate the ambiance. Sure, it’s sweaty, and overwhelming, and the flashing lights are a bit much, but it feels like a community, in some sort of odd way.

You’re heading through the crowd of bodies with Hwasa when someone grabs your arm, and you’re shocked to find Jeonghan standing there. He’s dressed as a zombie of some sort, and despite the fake grime on his face, he’s still very handsome.

“Hey, repeat offender,” he grins, leaning close so you can hear him over the loud music.

“Repeat offender?” you ask.

“Yeah, you’re Wonwoo’s chick now, our little repeat offender.” He’s charming, in an interesting sort of way. “Bet you’re looking for him.”

“Is he around?”

“He’s the dickhead in the oni mask, making a drink in the kitchen.”

“Thank you.”

You follow Jeonghan’s directions, approaching the kitchen. It’s as full of bodies as you’ve ever seen it, but despite that, finding Wonwoo is easy.

He’s tall, and even with his back to you, you’d recougnize his shoulders anywhere.

“So how are you doing this?” Hwasa asks.

“I’m just going to go talk to him.”

“Do you need backup?”

Your eyes shift to Wonwoo again, and you find a smile appearing on your face. “Honestly, I think I’ll be alright.”

“If you need anything, just scream ‘hamburger’.”

“Why?”

“It’s my safe word,” Hwasa teases, flashing you a wink before she disappears into the crowd of people dancing.

You take a deep breath, mustering your courage to approach the hot nerd.

You move toward him slowly, coming to a stop at his side. You don’t even have to say anything, he notices you immediately, turning to assess you.

His handsome face is covered with an oni mask, and it’s a little more frightening than you’d been anticipating, especially with his wild dark curls. Oni are Japanese demons, it has horns and fangs-

“Hi,” he says, and you can hardly hear him from under the mask.

“You’re really leaning into the whole demon thing, aren’t you?” you force a laugh.

You hear Wonwoo chuckle, and then he’s pulling the oni mask off. “Are you more comfortable now?”

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “Actually, I think I’d also be more comfortable with a drink.”

“How much have you had already?”

“Just had a bit of a pre with Hwasa, why?”

“I guess…” he faces you, crossing his large arms over his broad chest, “when I make a move on you tonight, since our arrangement is done, I want to make sure you reciprocate, sound of mind.”

You look up at him in shock, unable to find any words with which to respond.

Wonwoo grins when you remain dumbfounded for a few seconds. “You’re cute.”

“I am?”

“More than you realize.”

“And you’re… you’re going to make a move on me?”

“Was thinking about it.”

“What would the move look like?”

“Should I tell you? Or would you rather I show you?”

God, why is he so hot? Why does he always know what to say? And why does his smirk look extra sexy with his slightly pointed canines? Why haven’t you realized his teeth were pointy before? You suppose he doesn’t smile enough for you to have picked up on details, but now, you’re looking at him, unhindered by shyness and limits of a tutor/semi-student relationship.

Wonwoo pulls you closer by your hips, staring down at you. “I’m going to need a verbal answer, Sweetheart.”

“Show me,” you tell him.

Wonwoo’s grin widens, and one of his hands moves from your hip to your cheek, cupping your face. His thumb brushes by your cheekbone, and it’s such a loving motion- it’s as if the entire frat party disappears around you. You’re so focused on him that you can hardly breathe.

Wonwoo moves closer, and you an feel his breath on your face. His lips are incredibly close, so close you could kiss him yourself- but you stay frozen, waiting on him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Wonwoo asks teasingly.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

He chuckles, and then, he presses his lips to your own, cradling you even closer with the hand on your cheek. His other palm finds the small of your back, tugging you to his chest. You find your grip going to his shoulders, exploring the muscles you’ve been thirsting over.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you open wider to accept him in, a small groan slipping out of you.

God, he’s such a good kisser- you’re completely lost in him.

In the periphery, music is thrumming through you, but it’s muffled, disappearing as you fall deeper under the spell of Wonwoo’s kiss.

Things are getting hot and heavy fast, and you can’t even find it within yourself to be embarrassed that you’re making out with Wonwoo while surrounded by people, besides, something tells you they won’t care.

You can feel something on your lower abdomen, a pressure- and you realize that just kissing you has made Wonwoo hard in his jeans.

Your pussy throbs, so turned on that you can hardly breathe. You break the kiss, gasping. “Your room?”

“Not right now,” comes his immediate response.

“What?” You can’t help the way you feel crushed at the rejection-

“Not with the party,” Wonwoo clarifies. “I want to take my time with you, want you to be comfortable- having people fucking around outside my room while I’m exploring you isn’t my idea of a great first time.”

“That actually makes sense,” you concede.

“But… I’m okay to keep doing this,” he tells you, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, then his mouth begins to move down to your throat, his tongue tasting your sweet spot.

You release a moan, wrapping your arms around the tall nerd. “Yeah, we can keep doing this.”

Ten:

Wonwoo carefully walks to the kitchen, avoiding spilled liquor on the floor from the party the night before. He’s so focused on his footsteps that he almost doesn’t notice Jeonghan’s aura until he’s right next to him.

The frat boy is sitting on the kitchen counter, eating his cereal. “So…” Jeonghan muses with a grin, ��that girl, huh?”

“What girl?” Wonwoo sighs.

Jeonghan scoffs loudly, rolling his eyes. “The one you were making out with at the party for hours. You know, the one that keeps coming here for ‘tutoring.’”

“I helped her with an essay.”

“Sure you did.” Jeonghan pushes off the kitchen counter. “It’s cute, our resident demon has a heart.”

Wonwoo freezes, realizing that Jeonghan might be onto something, but he’ll never admit it out loud. “No, I don’t.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Eleven:

“Well look who it is,” Jeonghan grins as he opens the door to the frat. You wonder why it’s always him, why no one else is ever hanging around the living room, but you decide it’s best not to dwell on it.

“Hi,” you smile softly.

“Guessing you know where to go,” Jeonghan muses, opening the door wider so you can enter.

With one more nod to the frat boy, you make your way to Wonwoo’s room.

You knock on the door, and like the very first time you’d been here, it swings open with ease. Wonwoo’s sitting on his bed, a book in his hands. He’s wearing his glasses, and he looks so sexy like this, so domestic-

“Happy November,” Wonwoo says.

You laugh. “Happy November.” You close the door behind yourself, standing there awkwardly. You know what you’re here for, know what you want from him now that your essay is complete- “You’re not practicing, you know, No Nut November, or anything, are you?”

Wonwoo laughs, setting his book down on his bedside table along with his glasses. “No, I’m not practicing No Nut November.”

“Good.”

Wonwoo’s grin widens. “Get over here.”

You make your way to the bed, sitting carefully next to him. “What were you reading?”

“Dante’s Inferno,” he responds casually, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to be reading poetry from the thirteen hundreds.

“Wow,” you laugh, “that definitely pushes the whole demon angle.”

“I’m a deal maker, Sweetheart, the whole demon thing is overdone.” He wraps his arm around you, prompting you to cuddle up to his chest.

“And yet, your door opens on its own,” you point out.

“And?”

“As crazy as this sounds…” you take a deep breath, “I guess I’m wondering if there’s any… legitimacy to the whole demon thing.”

“How would you feel if there was?” he counters.

“I suppose I wouldn’t believe it, not really.”

“Then what’s the point in asking?”

“Maybe there’s no point.” You look up at him, marveling at his handsome features.

“So kiss me and forget about it,” he prompts, his fingers finding the bottom of your chin and making you look up at him.

“Sounds like a plan,” you smile, closing the gap between your lips.

He holds you tighter as your lips mesh, half pulling you onto his chest as his tongue explores your own. God, he still feels so good- part of you had wondered if you’d been a little tipsy the last time you kissed him, and that’s why it had felt so good- but no, this is just Wonwoo, this is just the power he has over you.

You adjust so you’re straddling him, his hands finding your hips to encourage you while you cup his face, enjoying the feeling.

You begin to wiggle, grinding down softly onto him. His cock is already hardening in his sweatpants- you love how easy it is to turn him on. It does wonders for your ego as you dry hump him, beginning to moan at the sensation on your clit.

You’re not usually this type of person, not the mega-sexual, but something about Wonwoo is making you feral. It helps that you both know why you’re here- helps that he’d rescheduled this fuck session so you wouldn’t be having your first time with a wild Halloween rager just outside his door.

Things are just comfortable with him, it’s clear you’re both extremely attracted to each other, and that turns you on even more.

One of his hands begins to glide up from your waist, skimming the underwire of your bra. You move his palm even further up, so he’s grasping your breast, and he squeezes deliciously, earning a soft moan from your lips.

Wonwoo grins into your kiss, his free hand cupping the back of your neck, forcing you even closer as he massages your chest.

You grind harder onto his cock, loving the feeling-

One flip has Wonwoo on top of you, and you whimper at the change in power dynamics. He moves his hips fluidly, applying more pressure to your already throbbing clit-

Wonwoo pulls away from your throat, looking down at you with dark eyes. “So do I need to grab a condom, Sweetheart?”

“I’m on birth control,” you tell him. “Are you clean?”

“I’m clean, are you?”

“Yeah.” You lean closer, eagerly pressing your lips to his again. You’re so lost in him, nothing else matters.

Wonwoo’s hands begin to explore you again, and then he pulls away to tug on your shirt. “Off.”

You sit up, removing the fabric, exposing your bra to him.

Wonwoo looks down at you with lust filled eyes. “You’re so pretty, Sweetheart.” His fingers tease the strap of your bra. “How’d a pretty little thing like you ever find your way to me?”

“The essay-”

“You’re so innocent though, I could tell from the moment I met you. You wouldn’t have come to me if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

“No, I don’t cheat.”

“And you still don’t, you did the whole essay yourself.”

“With help from you,” you blush.

“No, Sweetheart, it was all you.” Wonwoo kisses you again, shutting up any argument you have about using his notes.

He makes you feel so good- it’s such a safe space, and it’s the type of situation you’re not used to. The lack of judgement, the complete support- it helps you relax, helps you get even further lost in his kiss as you make out, the both of you wriggling and grinding against each other. You love the feeling of his body, the feeling of being here with him, completely enraptured mind and soul.

Wonwoo’s lips trail down to your throat, and he begins to descend. He reaches your chest, and you breathe heavily, closing your eyes to enjoy the feeling of his lips.

His fingers hook in the cup of your bra, and he pauses to look up at you, as if he’s asking for your permission. “Do it,” you tell him, trying to catch your breath.

Wonwoo grins, pulling your bra down so he can access your tits fully. His tongue flicks at your sensitive nipple, and you groan at the sensation, arching your back to push your chest closer to his face.

Wonwoo’s lips suction around the sensitive bud next, and God, it feels amazing.

Your pussy is practically throbbing- can women cum from breast stimulus alone? You might find out if he keeps this up.

His hands cup your tits, pushing them together, and then he begins to lick at both of your nipples, switching from one to the other in a pace that has you grabbing his hair, whimpering in desperation.

You feel like you’re on fire- you feel alive, writhing on this hot nerd’s bed. It feels dirty, but it feels so right too.

He continues on your breasts for a short while, until you’re good and needy, then he makes his way to your jeans.

“I want you naked,” he tells you.

“Then get me naked,” you counter, still breathless.

With a wink, Wonwoo pulls your jeans down, and you work on your bra. Soon, you’re completely naked from him, and unlike other times you’ve gotten with men, you don’t feel an ounce of shame.

This feels so right, and as Wonwoo begins kissing up your thighs, prompting your legs open, you just know that sex is never going to be the same.

Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours as he takes a lick of your pussy, and you both groan. His lips suction around your clit and your muscles spasm. He pulls away with a grin, breath hot on your aching core. “So wet already,” he muses.

“I need you,” you whimper.

“You have me,” he promises, diving back into your heat.

He doesn’t hold anything back. He eats you like you’re the most delicious fruit in the world, like your pussy juices are a nectar he needs for life itself.

You grasp at the blanket on his bed, writhing beneath him while he licks and sucks and- fuck, he just knows you so well- there’s no need for direction, no awkward moments of exploration, he just… he knows what to do, and it drives you wild. You’re completely in the moment, experiencing a raw pleasure you’ve only ever read about in erotica.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you’re a little shocked at the speed of all of this, however, you suppose the foreplay had done a number on you as well.

“Wonwoo-” you whimper, abdomen tensing.

“Cum for me,” he breathes heavily against your clit. “Want you to cum on my tongue.”

His lips wrap around your clit again, and two more harsh sucks are all it takes to send you over the edge. You gasp desperately, entire body tensing before the moment of your release.

Hot waves of pleasure erupt over your form, all consuming. You can hardly breathe, can only gasp in ecstasy as he works you through your high.

You’re not sure how long your orgasm lasts, only that you’re out of breath and brain dead by the time Wonwoo pulls away.

You can hardly open your eyes to look up at him as he stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are so full of lust- and for the first time, he looks truly demonic. But you’re not scared, you’re intrigued, in the best possible way.

“Fuck me,” you tell him quietly.

Wonwoo grins, and his canines flash in the light. “You got it, Sweetheart.”

He grabs the back of his shirt, tearing it off his head to reveal chiseled chest muscles. He’s got more of a sleeper build- the kind of guy you wouldn’t expect to be muscled, except that under layers of fabric, he’s actually sculpted by the Gods.

You can hardly breathe as he pulls his sweatpants down, and you’re practically drooling by the time he gets back on top of you, his lips hot against your own.

You cup the back of his neck, kissing him desperately, wiggling your hips, eager for stimulation.

Wonwoo concedes, rutting so his cock drags through your drenched pussy lips.

Neither of you say anything, you keep lip locked as he finally pushes into you. You both release gasps of pleasure, breathing the kiss to press your foreheads together as he sheaths further inside of you.

You open your eyes, looking up at Wonwoo, who meets your gaze with a fierceness that sets your insides on fire.

He’s so beautiful- you’d checked his head for horns, but you can almost see an outline of demonic features- you must be dreaming, must be so lost in him that you’re seeing things. You close your eyes, drawing your lips to his again as he begins to fuck you.

Each thrust his hard, the tip of his long cock kissing your cervix. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but the feeling becomes pleasurable much too quickly. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, clawing at his broad shoulders.

“You feel so good,” he tells you.

“No, your cock feels good,” you correct him.

“Agree,” he presses a kiss to your lips, “to disagree.”

You laugh, and Wonwoo groans at the way your giggle makes your muscles clench even tighter around his cock.

“Fuck,” he moans, taking a deep breath.

He pulls away suddenly, and he flips you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips to lift you into the air. He positions your knees together, so you’re in doggy, and then he pushes himself back into your aching hole.

Shit- things feel even tighter in this positon, and you claw at his bed, burying your face in his duvet as he plows into you. His grip is rough on your hips, but you don’t even care- if Wonwoo continues to give you cock like this, he could do anything he wanted to you, any position, and you wouldn’t mind.

Each snap of his hips sends the sound of skin on skin through his room, but that’s the least of your worries. You’re more concerned about the fact that you can feel another orgasm bubbling up in the pit of your stomach, and your pussy is clenching even tighter around him now.

“You’re close again, aren’t you, Sweetheart?” Wonwoo asks.

“Uh huh, so deep-” you whimper.

“Rub your clit for me,” he instructs. “Wanna feel it.”

You adjust, bringing your fingers to your sensitive bud. You begin to stoke yourself, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you crying out as he rails into you.

Wonwoo shifts, bringing one knee up so his foot is flat on the bed, giving himself better manueverabilty to fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.

“That’s it,” he groans, squeezing your hips. “Make me cum.”

The knowledge that your high will set off his own makes you even more eager to please him, and you rub your clit even harder, whimpering desperately.

Wonwoo lets out a grunt, and the sound is music to your ears. How is he so sexy? When did a man grunting become sexy?

Fuck, you work yourself even harder, and Wonwoo matches your enthusiasm with his thrusts, his hands pulling your hips back to meet him with each motion.

“I’m close-” you tell him, your pussy gripping him so hard-

“Let go for me,” he responds. “Need to feel it.”

A few more circular motions on your clit has you exploding, a loud whimper escaping your lips as your pussy clamps down hard on his cock. Your entire body is alight, muscles working overtime as you contract around him.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo growls, his pace faltering as he cums inside you, filling you with a warmth that makes you spasm beneath him.

You continue to moan as he fucks you through your highs until you’re both breathless. You can feel him breathing on your back, can feel each puff-

Your own chest is heaving with effort, your eyes closed as the last inklings of euphoria sparkle through you.

Wonwoo’s hands smooth along your hips gently, and neither of you have anything to say as you recuperate.

Finally, Wonwoo gently traces your spine with a finger. “I’m going to pull out,” he tells you. “Grab you a tissue.”

“Okay.” You nod against his bed, still too blurry from your orgasm to think too hard about anything.

The loss of his cock from your aching hole is one you feel everywhere, and you whimper, cupping your pussy to stop any cum from dripping onto his bed.

Wonwoo returns quickly, moving your hand so he can press tissue to your core. “Give it a sec, and when you’re ready we can put on some clothes and head to the bathroom.”

You stay on your knees for a few more seconds before mustering your energy. When you’re finally able to stand, Wonwoo helps you up. He pulls sweatpants up your legs, followed by a hoodie to cover your bare chest.

Then, he takes your hand, guiding you to the bathroom where you both clean up.

Everything is a blur until you get back to his bedroom, where you collapse onto the mattress against his chest, eyes closed.

Wonwoo’s hand smooths up and down your arm. “How do you feel?”

“So good,” you respond.

“I’ve gotta tell you something.”

You can hear the seriousness in his tone, and you force your eyes open, looking up at him questioningly.

“I was going to wait-” Wonwoo admits, “it’s something I’ve never told anyone, not in so many words at least.” You wait for him to continue. “The whole demon thing… there’s some truth to it.”

“But… I checked for horns?” you say, confused.

“We don’t have horns, Sweetheart. We’re deal makers. You gave me your necklace, it has a soultie to your ex, one day, I’m going to drag that asshole to hell.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. “Sure you are, Wonwoo.”

“You don’t believe me,” he muses, lifting your hand so he can kiss your knuckles gently.

“I told you I wouldn’t, so what does it even matter?”

“I just wanted to start things right,” he confesses. “Wanted to do this right.”

“This?” you counter, grinning up at him.

“Us. I want to give it a shot, if you’re interested.”

“I’m more than interested,” you admit. “But… I think, right now, I just need a little sleep.”

“Then sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and with a smile and a deep breath, you finding yourself drifting into the most blissful sleep of your life. Demon or not, Wonwoo makes you feel protected, and that’s not something you’ll ever take lightly.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! I love Wonwoo!

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🔮 preview. “You look so good like this, Sweetheart,” he whispers. “Being so good for me, so corruptible-” He has a bit of a corruption kink, but he’s never forced it on you. No, he’d shown you his toys, and allowed you to choose the pace on everything. You feel so comfortable with him, and it allows you to fully connect with yourself and your pleasure.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, use of sex toys, flogger, vibrator, multiple reader orgasms, breast worship, nipple clamps, slight corruption kink, dirty talk, praise, soft dom Wonwoo, fingering, slight pain kink, etc… I petnames. (hers) Sweetheart.

�� rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s been a few months of dating Wonwoo, and you’ve realized the whole demon thing is completely real. It was an adjustment at first, but he’d explained everything about it. There are certain demons who do the darker stuff, but Wonwoo truly considers himself a deal maker above all else. He doesn’t kill, even though, with his power, he could.

No, he’s a mellow demon, if there is such a thing.

It’s an opposites attract type of situation, and Wonwoo’s spent countless nights admiring your aura, discussing what it is exactly that makes you the light Yin to his dark Yang. He loves you for all of your differences, and you’ve never felt more comfortable with a person- or, should you say, demon.

He’s an ageless man with a thirst for knowledge, and you’re so attracted to his deep understanding of all things literate or scientific. You find yourself constantly learning new knowledge from him, and every day you spend together is a dream you never could have even wished for.

Aside from all the educational learning experiences you have with Wonwoo, you’ve also begun to explore his sexual knowledge, and it’s a journey you never thought you’d find yourself on.

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myballsyourballs · 9 months ago

Note

OKAY IVE BEEN IMAGINING A HAWKS X BAKUGOUS OLDER BROTHER READER?? okay but here me out bro, reader has been dating hawks for a while now, occasional family dinners at readers house with his parents, not brother, due to the fact that he’s training.

reader never brought up the fact that his younger brother goes to ua, and hawks never said anything about teaching 1a gym time-to-time, one day, reader goes to pick up katsuki early from school, and he realizes hawks is teaching, basically how everyone would react to one, finding out bakugou has a brother, and two he’s dating hawks??

(ps, hawks knew of readers last name, but never thought anything of it,)

big bro

keigo takami x male! older bakugou brother! reader

genre: fluff and slight crack oneshot (1,300ish words)

notes: i’m not a massive fan of how i wrote this (i don’t think it’s very good) but it’s been sitting in my drafts for months so here you go

synopsis: reader is katsuki's older brother who is dating hawks -- katsuki doesn't know reader is dating hawks, and hawks doesn't know katsuki is reader's brother. it stays that way until reader has to pick up katsuki from school early while hawks is teaching.

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Principal Nezu is shorter than you expect.

You expected him to be a man-sized rat, not a rat-sized man; though you suppose that isn’t an apt description either, given that he’s at least 2 feet tall and most rats aren’t 2 feet tall.

Regardless, he's still pretty intimidating when you run into him in the hall and he starts to ask you what you're doing.

"I'm looking for Bakugou Katsuki -- uh, my little brother. My parents wanted me to pick him up early since we're leaving today to go on a trip." Nezu seriously makes you nervous.

“Bakugou Katsuki is in Hero Training as of right now. You’ll be able to find him in the gym!” He smiles at you, teeth surprisingly white for a rodent. “Make sure to alert his teacher before you leave,” Nezu continues, an unnerving glint in his abyss-like eyes. You decide not to ask why he knows Katsuki’s timetable by heart.

“Sure. Thanks, Principal Nezu,” you smile, offering him a handshake kindly.

“Anytime, Bakugou-san.”

As you step into the gym, the first thing you notice is the smell of sweat. That, and the temperature. Despite the amount of heat emanating from the fire quirks of a select few and the body heat of everyone in the gym, it’s — surprisingly — rather cool. UA's unflinching ability to invest copious amounts of money into air conditioning was impressive. Your eyes trail across the sweeping ceilings and expensive equipment, whistling lowly. I should come here more often.

1-A looks to be split into pairs — sparring, maybe? — each student difficult to view clearly under the thin blanket of steam and smoke that surrounds them. Katsuki, however, is easy to spot among them. His explosions light up the room, the sound of the loud booms only rivalled by his rage-fuelled yelling. You watch, amused. Glad he’s… letting that out.

As much as you didn’t want to interrupt class (the idea of 20 different teenagers having their undivided attention on you was a terrifying thought), the teacher was nowhere in sight and you were running out of time. “Katsuki!” you call, waving at the angry red glare that lands on you. The boy, in response, rolls his eyes snidely and stays rooted on the spot.

You sigh. Little brothers are so goddamn annoying. “Let’s go, dude,” you urge, emphasising your words with a vague ‘hurry up’ gesture. He scowls, but obliges nonetheless, walking slowly over with his hands shoved into his pockets. Once he's in front of you, he stops.

“My teacher isn’t here. I can’t leave yet.”

“Isn’t it their job to, you know, teach? Where the fuck did they go?” You furrow your brows.

“Fuck if I know,” Katsuki responds, matching your curses with equal indifference. “He went with Deku to go and get something.”

“Izuku’s here?”

“Why wouldn’t he be, dumbass? He’s in my class.”

And that’s when you notice the rest of 1-A. 18 pairs of eyes stare at you in utter shock and confusion, burning with questions. Your body stills, awkward under their gazes.

“Is that… your brother?” a red-haired boy with sharp teeth asks, looking between you and Katsuki slowly.

“Yeah,” Katsuki replies nonchalantly.

You take in the other boy's appearance: the insane amount of gel in his weirdly-styled hair, pointed teeth and the fact that he was sparring with Katsuki. Close friend, bad hair?

“You must be Shitty Hair.” you say, prompting half of the class to erupt into giggles. Vaguely, you recall his name is Kirishima, but Katsuki says it so rarely that you barely even associate it with him. ‘Shitty Hair’ blushes at the attention, nodding bashfully with an awkward smile. He rubs the nape of his neck, glancing once again between Katsuki and you.

“I can see how you’re related,” he laughs uncertainly.

“I can see who got the good genes,” a pink-haired girl with horns calls, “clearly not Bakugou.”

“YOU WANNA SAY THAT AGA—”

The doors slam open. You first see Izuku, who pauses at the commotion, and behind him you see… your boyfriend? What the fuck?

“Keigo?”

“[Y/N]?”

“[Y/N]-nii?” Izuku adds.

“Nii?” someone whispers in confusion.

“Hey, Izuku,” you respond weakly.

Silence falls. You take a moment to appreciate Keigo in his hero costume before the dots connect and you turn to Katsuki accusingly.

“He’s your teacher!?”

“He’s your brother!?” Keigo counters.

You turn to your boyfriend. “I told you I have a brother. You know my last name. You’ve literally met my mother and she’s the carbon-copy of Katsuki. Keigo, what even?”

“Er, well, in hindsight, maybe you’re right— but... you’re so nice,” he says, disbelief evident in his wide eyes and confused brows. “And he’s so… not—”

“The fuck did you just say—!?”

“Young man, I will give you a detention if you swear at me again,” Keigo says sternly, schooling his face into something unnaturally serious and crossing his toned arms over his chest. You can see the humour dancing his eyes, prompting you to chuckle quietly.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Yes, Hawks-sensei,” he mutters, face contorted into a scowl. He angrily taps his shoe on the ground.

“Stop being a shit,” you chide, grabbing Katsuki by the shoulder roughly and rubbing your knuckles into his skull. The rest of 1-A watches on in absolute disbelief. (Except Izuku. He’s used to this.)

Katsuki groans exasperatedly, “You stop being a shit.”

“Hey!” Hawks gasps dramatically, “don’t call my boyfriend a shit!”

Silence.

You rub a hand over your temple in an attempt to ease your oncoming headache.

“YOUR FUCKING WHAT?!”

“Katsuki—”

The rest of 1-A is left in shock. (Including Izuku, this time). Some start yelling, some look like they’ve turned to stone, the usual. You’re too busy trying to hold back your feral little brother from attacking Keigo — you know he won’t actually, you’re just hoping Keigo knows that too.

“Wait, you’re gay?” A boy who you can recall as Kaminari splutters. Your face crinkles into confusion, nose scrunching like you’ve smelt a bad odour. You can see why Katsuki calls him Dunce Face.

“It runs in the family,” you say, with a pointed look to Katsuki.

His exhaustion must’ve caught up to him since he only offers a middle finger in response. Kaminari bursts into startled and slightly scared laughter.

A warm arm makes its way around your waist and it takes an embarrassing amount of effort for you to suppress a smile. You don’t even have to look at Keigo to know that he’s grinning.

Neither of you are big fans of PDA, but the urge to hug him right now is particularly strong; especially since he’s right there, but there’s also 20 kids right there which sucks and you have to go—

Right. You and Katsuki need to go. That was the point of this whole ordeal.

“Keigo,” you murmur, quiet enough for only him to hear. The rest of the class has ignored the two of you in favour of chatting amongst themselves or questioning Katsuki. Keigo hums, meeting your eyes. He smiles, his golden irises pooling with affection and his arm squeezing gently around your waist, seemingly in a trance. You chuckle, “I need to go.”

He startles. “Right! Right,” he says, clearing his throat. You pretend not to notice the faint tinge of red high on his cheekbones.

“Okay, 1-A. I’m gonna go sort this out quickly,” Keigo says to the class, his voice raised slightly in order to drown out the talking. “So please continue sparring — without quirks — until I’m back. I won’t be long.”

The class answers an affirmative, and then the two of you (plus Katsuki) are out the door. You turn to face Keigo, placing a quick peck on his lips. “I thought I just needed to tell you Katsuki was leaving and then you’d sort it?”

“That’s true… but I missed you,” Keigo sighs wearily, acting like he hadn’t seen you in years. (You spent the night with him literally yesterday.)

“Stop before I tear my fucking eyes out,” Katsuki interrupts. Keigo lifts his head to glare unhappily at him.

“Piss off, Katsuki,” you grumble, placing a slightly longer kiss on Keigo’s lips. You pull away at the realisation that you’re probably late, which means you’ll probably have to face the wrath of Mitsuki Bakugo. “I should— we should go. I’ve stayed way longer than I needed to.”

“Thank fuck,” Katsuki grumbles, occupying himself with his phone. Teenagers.

Keigo groans dejectedly but lets you go nonetheless. He watches you walk away, waving. “Bye, honeybear!”

“Don’t call me that!”

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steddiehyperfixation · 2 months ago

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with blonde hair and a tan

steddie brainworms so bad i wrote this silly little thing immediately after watching the rocky horror picture show for the first time the other night lol @steddie-spooktober day 30: "where in the hell did you find that costume?" | 1083 words | T |

Eddie can hear Steve and Robin squabbling as he makes his way up the stairs to Steve's room.

“I just don't know about this, Rob.”

“It was your idea!”

“It's too much. I should wear something else.”

“Little late for that now.”

“Well-”

“Where in the hell did you find that costume?” Eddie stops in the doorway, frozen in a state of shock at the scene in front of him. His mouth hangs open, eyes wide, and a sudden heat rises in his cheeks.

Because Steve is standing in front of his mirror wearing only a tiny metallic gold speedo and matching gold boots, his great expanse of tanned skin and muscles and body hair on full display. Robin stands next to him with a spray can of wash out bleach-blonde hair dye at the ready.

Steve looks over at Eddie. “It's too much, isn't it? I knew it. I told you,” he says to Robin, gesturing at Eddie as if his reaction proves his point. “Look at his face, even he's embarrassed for me.”

Robin snorts. “Yeah, I don't think that's why he's blushing, Steve-o.”

“No one’s even gonna know who I am,” Steve continues to complain, thankfully ignoring Robin’s comment.

“Rocky,” Eddie says. His voice comes out weird and cracked; he clears his throat. “You're Rocky, from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

“See?” Now it's Robin’s turn to gesture towards Eddie in vindication. “Totally recognizable. Totally good. It's just one party, and you've got all that unwarranted jock confidence, you'll be fine.” She pats Steve on the shoulder, then turns and tosses the spray dye at Eddie. “Here. You can take over spraying his hair. I have to finish getting myself ready.”

Eddie fumbles trying to catch the spray can, his attempt to stammer out a protest falling on deaf ears as Robin pushes past him out of the room. “Okay.” He sighs. This is fine. He can totally handle being left alone with this literal golden adonis without getting heart palpitations. He can be cool and chill and normal. He can.

Steve looks amused. “You don't have to. I can probably manage spraying my own hair just fine,” he says when Eddie still hasn't moved.

“No, I got it.” Eddie shakes his head, shaking himself into motion. “You won't be able to get the back right on your own anyways.” He approaches Steve - with great restraint, he might add, because there's a part of his brain that's all animal right now and it's just raring to pounce on him. “So are you done trying to talk yourself out of this costume, then?”

Steve chews at his lip as he studies his reflection again. “I think so,” he decides. His gaze flicks up to meet Eddie's eyes in the mirror. “You really don't think it's too much?”

Eddie breaks the mirror eye contact before his face can turn any more red, fixing his focus singularly on starting to spray the blonde dye onto Steve's hair. “No, you uh, you look good. You really should've warned me- told me, I mean, what you were gonna be. I would've matched your theme, could've gone as Dr. Frank N Furter.” (His current costume in comparison is quite boring, just a basic vampire - albeit with some pretty impressive fake blood around his mouth if he does say so himself, but ultimately nothing special.)

“Now that would be something,” Steve mutters, the words a little breathier all of the sudden, but Eddie still doesn't dare let his glance wander from his hair. His voice is back to normal in a second anyway. “Well, there's always next year.”

“Yeah, next year,” Eddie echoes. That really would be something, both of them in flamboyantly skimpy costumes. He's not sure if that would make this situation better or worse for him.

He pushes up some of Steve's hair to make sure he's covered all the layers in the back, his fingers accidentally brushing along the skin of his neck, and Steve shivers. Eddie finds himself watching with an odd satisfaction as the goosebumps ripple up in the wake of his touch.

“I think I might freeze to death like this, though,” Steve comments with a self-deprecating chuckle that just barely conceals that weird breathiness that's returned to his voice. “I probably should've considered that before I decided to go out half naked at night in the middle of fall.”

“I bet you could easily find someone to keep you warm tonight,” Eddie tells him, forcing detachment. He locks his attention back on his hair dyeing work. “You walk in there looking like this and you'll have all the girls at the party falling at your feet. Probably even some of the guys too,” he adds, remembering Steve recently came out as bisexual.

“Yeah?” Steve sounds like he's smiling, or maybe smirking. He tries (unsuccessfully) to catch Eddie's eyes again as Eddie moves in front of him to get to the last few pieces of hair. “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Would you be one of them?”

Eddie finishes with the hairspray, nothing left to keep using as an excuse to avoid his attention. He finally looks at Steve's face and raises an eyebrow, deflecting. “You want me to fall at your feet, Harrington?”

Steve shakes his head almost imperceptibly. He glances down for a moment, then looks back up at him from under his lashes and takes a step closer. “I want you to keep me warm,” he clarifies in a murmur as he reaches for Eddie's free hand and guides it to hold his waist. Eddie's blood ignites at the touch and the look Steve's giving him, flames racing along his veins.

That's as good an invitation as any, and Eddie's restraint shatters. He draws Steve hungrily to his lips. How could he not? The spray can falls from his grip in favor of using both hands to pull Steve closer and roam his body. And if Eddie's wandering hands linger for a while in their investigation of that perfect gold-clad ass, well that's between them and the lovely little sound Steve makes against his open mouth.

And Robin, who has the misfortune of poking her head back into the room right then.

She yelps and jumps out of view of the scene, banging her fist against the wall just next to the doorway to get their attention instead. “When you guys are done being gross,” she shouts, “there's a party we're gonna be late for!”

#this is so unserious #the homoerotic tension of helping your friend get ready while he's dressed as a sexy character from an aggressively queer movie #also side note rocky horror is a truly bonkers film actually and i don't think anyone really properly prepared me for that tbh lmao #anyways.#steddiespooktober #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #mine

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sunderwight · 9 months ago

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It's so good when Shen Qingqiu takes care of Luo Binghe. In canon and also in fics. I especially am in love with when he does his hair or helps him dress, it's just so pleasantly domestic. Also endearing whenever SQQ gets a bit fanboy-ish about it, because that's Luo Binghe and SQQ can dress him up in every cool or sexy outfit he has a face thick enough to pay someone to actually make!

I wonder if he ever shares this wisdom with Shang Qinghua. Like at some bitching session or other SQH is sighing a bit about how MBJ always wears like the same three outfits, and don't get him wrong they're all great outfits, but he noticed Luo Binghe flaunting yet another fresh look the other day and part of him really wants to see Mobei Jun in something different...

And then Shen Qingqiu is just like, you're the Lord of An Ding Peak, you handle the basic wardrobe necessities for an entire sect? Go pay someone to make cool/sexy outfits and literally put them on Mobei Jun yourself! You're married to the guy, aren't you?

Shang Qinghua is like "wait you can do that? I can do that? that's a thing that's allowed?" and Shen Qingqiu rolls his eyes and calls him a dumbass and points out that Airplane himself wrote about the intimacy of Luo Binghe's harem members dressing him and it being an even bigger deal for demons than humans, and Shang Qinghua cannot for the life of him remember this but it does sound sort of familiar. So off he goes to nervously sketch out some ideas for outfits, and then get told off by the seamstress he tries to commission for not having realistic ideas about how fabric works. But he does have Mobei Jun's measurements and after some discussion he gets a bunch of stuff that looks even better than his initial ideas, eventually, and then he just has to... give them to his king...

Shang Qinghua awkwardly presenting the topic to Mobei Jun like he's expecting to get a hard "no", but he blinks and his king is naked and standing expectantly in front of his fancy full-length mirror. Shang Qinghua has only ever helped Mobei Jun get dressed when he was injured in the past, and then usually only just putting his arms through some sleeves on an outer robe. They've undressed each other for sex, but putting the clothes on really is a different kind of intimacy. Especially an outfit that Shang Qinghua had specially made to suit Mobei Jun, to highlight the features he likes best about him. Striking blue and icy-white, with hints of An Ding's colors as accents, showing off his build to full effect, etc etc. Shang Qinghua layers each piece on and then does Mobei Jun's hair too, muttering quiet approval for how the look comes together while Mobei Jun preens under all the attention.

Of course, afterwards Mobei wants Shang Qinghua to dress him every day, which isn't always logistically feasible, and MBJ also intends to return the gesture.

Luo Binghe dresses Shen Qingqiu too of course, but Luo Binghe is aware both that other guys want his husband and also that Shen Qingqiu will refuse to go out in public if Binghe dresses him in anything revealing, even if he still lets him put it on, plus Luo Binghe was raised with human sensibilities about modesty. So all in all any "sexy" outfits are reserved for private time at home, and what he puts Shen Qingqiu in for daily wear is all stuff that is perfectly befitting a Qing Jing Peak Lord and scholar.

Mobei Jun doesn't have human modesty sensibilities and also doesn't see any reason why Qinghua shouldn't show off his own best assets while he's going about his day, so, Shang Qinghua is about to rue the hell out of a lot fashion-related world-building decisions he made a lifetime ago...

#svsss #moshang #bingqiu #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 1 year ago

Note

reader gets super drunk with the pogues so they have to call rafe to get her. And he wasn’t very happy

lets have a good time

pairing(s): bf!rafe cameron x gf!fem!reader , the pogues x reader

warnings: alcohol, pet names, almost a fight

summary: after having one too many to drink, your friends are forced to call your boyfriend.

authors note: thank you for the request!! enjoy :)

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

“c’mon, sarah. please?” you whined.

“babe, you’ve already had way too much to drink,” she said with a chuckle.

you began to pout. “but rafe never lets me drink and we haven’t all been together in sooo long,” you dragged. “this is like—like the one night we can have fun. so why not enjoy it.”

“you’re enjoyin’ it alright,” jj joked, taking another sip from his beer.

that gave you an idea. jj always drank with you.

you turned to him with a smile and the two full shot glasses. “jj?”

he could never turn down alcohol. “why not?”

you cheered and handed him one of the shots before counting down, connecting your lips with the glass and leaning your head back as the burn slid down your throat.

the two of you high fived each other before starting to pour yourselves another.

“you think we’ll have to call him tonight?” john b asked, standing with pope, sarah, and kiara as they watched the two take more shots.

sarah nodded. “definitely. she’s not walking in this state.”

“he’s gonna be pissed,” pope said.

“so pissed,” kiara agreed.

sarah sighed and shifted her weight to one foot. “who’s gonna do it this time?”

john b and pope put their fingers on their noses quickly. once kie noticed, she did the same.

“not fair,” the blonde said. “i don’t wanna text him.”

kiara laughed. “he’s your brother. if he hears it from us, he’d probably run us all over on the way here.”

she sighed but pulled out her phone and began to search for his contact to call him instead while you and jj were still drunkenly stumbling around each other, laughing uncontrollably, dancing to the music and taking another shot.

“what do you want?” he asked, voice louder now that he was on speaker.

sarah rolled her eyes. “can you come get y/n? we’ve all been drinking, some more than others, and i don’t think its a good idea for us to drive her home.”

“what the fuck, sarah? i told you about this shit already. stop—“

she hung up before he could get another word out. john b reached into the cooler and grabbed out some beers, handing one to each of the three. “we’re gonna need ‘em for this one.”

“it’s like a ticking time bomb,” kie said. “we’re basically sitting ducks right here.”

sarah shook her head. “he won’t do anything too bad. you know she doesn’t like when he gets all mouthy with us,” she replied, referring to you.

and in record breaking time, the big truck was pulling into the dead patch of grass on the side of the chateau.

you gasped when you saw your boyfriend approaching and immediately run up to him, without stumbling and tripping as much as you can, flinging your arms around him and holding yourself close to him. “hi, rafe,” you slurred against his chest.

“hi, baby,” he said softly. your balance was completely off. he wrapped his arms around you to ensure you wouldn’t fall then looked up to his sister and the rest of the pogues. “are you kidding me?”

sarah shrugged. “she was having fun, rafe. let her.”

“what did i tell you about this? look at her. she can barely even stand,” he spat angrily. “i told you to watch her. and you didn’t. you’re supposed to monitor how much she’s drinking so she doesn’t—“

“hey,” you mumbled quietly, leaning off his chest and stumbling back slightly to look at him. “‘s fine. ‘m fine. i was jus’ havin’ fun with my friends and—and i had a little too much. sarah even—even told me i was drinking too much. ‘s fine though. can we jus’ go home?” you slurred between hiccups.

he took a deep breath. he could never say no to you.

“c’mon,” he said softly. you waved goodbye to all your friends and with a hand on your back to keep you steady, he led you to the car. his hands found your waist to help you up into your seat, strapping you in then shutting the door and hastily walked around to the other side.

you giggled when he got in. “i had sooo much fun today, rafe.”

he smiled to himself and began to reverse out. “i can’t wait to hear all about it, sweetheart.”

#gracie writes rafe cameron 🌺#gracies asks and requests 💌#rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe fanfiction

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mariclerc · 7 months ago

Note

So, i watched the video of the radio between Charles and his new engineer at Imola. Safe to say i got some ideas, and was wondering if you could write something with Charles and engineer!reader? Basically something where reader is Charles’ engineer and he’s developed feelings for her, during a race ( could be Imola, or Monaco as thats this weekend) she talks to him like Bryan does and he realizes he has a praise kink. Could lead to smut if you’re comfortable with that. Thank you in advance.

Thank you for this request, I did my best to develop it as much as possible, I hope you like it!! <3<3

Strategies and praises | cl16 (+18)

Summary: you like to praise your driver, but you have no idea how much good it does him. Warning: fluff and some light smut.

a/n: CHARLES WON IN MONACO OH MY GOD, I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT!! HE REALLY DID IT, I'M SO SO PROUD OF HIM!!! (not to jinx him I wrote this between Friday and Saturday so you won't have exactly the positions like in the race)

The Monaco Grand Prix is in full swing, everyone is excited and ecstatic as they want to know how the local driver, Charles, will do. You, as his race engineer, are under a bit of pressure, as well as him, but it's nothing you can't control. For you it is a race of mere strategy and that's it, since many overtakings do not usually occur, and that is why you and Charles spend a lot of time studying the different strategies that may happen in the race.

“If we get one last run with the mediums in quali, we can achieve pole position.” He says and you nod.

“That's right, it's just a matter of the track staying the same throughout qualifying and, in case you already have provisional pole and a red flag or something happens, you're already insured there.” you say as you finish reviewing some telemetry data.

Suddenly he lets out a sigh and runs his hands through his hair, ruffling it a little. You know he is stressed and overwhelmed by this weekend, it's not that he doesn't like it, on the contrary, it's the constant pressure to have a good race at home.

“But... But what if I qualify further back? I don't know, that will change the whole strategy, right?” He asks in a whisper, you nod.

“Ehm... That might change the strategy a little bit, of course, but it's nothing we can't recover with a couple of undercuts or overcuts...” you say to finally close your laptop.

You look at Charles and notice how your words calmed him down a bit, you have been his engineer since he arrived at Ferrari in 2019 and you have been known for giving him some praises every so often in the race. And a couple of times you have been criticized for some questionable decisions in the race, but he was in charge of clearing your name with pride those times, which you are very grateful to him since he always believes in you and you in him.

It's already race day and you find yourself with a lot of nerves, the day before Charles had qualified P3 and, although it was not what we expected, there was a certain tension and hope on the pit wall. The roar of the crowd fills Charles helmet as he navigates the tight corners of Monaco. You, his engineer, his voice of reason in the chaos, cut through the static.

“Charles, that was a phenomenal lap! You took the Rascasse beautifully, just keep pushing, we can still make a good climb!” you say on the radio. “Just try to make it clean, okay? You're doing a very good job.”

A small smile tugs at Charles' lips under the helmet... He wasn't just pushing or fighting for the podium anymore, he was pushing to hear your voice, to impress you, to make you feel proud of him.

You watch the telemetry with a focused intensity, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.

“Perfect line through Beau Rivage, Charles. You're a monster machine! Let's catch them boy! I know you can do it!” you said watching his lap, he had made a couple of overcuts.

The compliment hangs heavy in the air between you and Charles, a blush creeps up his neck even though you can't see it. He pushes even harder, the car straining under his command.

Charles crosses the finish line, a hard-fought P3. He lets out a guttural yell of exhilaration, the adrenaline coursing through him. Maybe it's not a home win as he wished, but it's a podium and it's something at least.

“Great job, team! That was incredible. Y/n, you were brilliant on the strategy, thank you so much!” you heard his voice over the radio communication and you smiled.

“It was nothing Charles, now let's celebrate! You deserve it more than anyone!” you also say through the radio. “You did an absolutely amazing drive, Charles. You were phenomenal out there. We should celebrate after the podium ceremony!” you say and you let out a little giggle.

A shiver runs down Charles' spine... It wasn't just the post-race adrenaline, it was the way you said it, the subtle soft praise laced with something more, and that sweet and soft giggle of yours. All your colleagues on the pit wall hug you and congratulate you for such a spectacular strategy, Fred also congratulates you with a loving hug. You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Relief and pride wash over you, how proud you are to work with someone like Charles is priceless, he is someone who always strives to achieve his own.

At the end of the podium and the interviews, the paddock was practically deserted, you found yourself putting some things in your briefcase when you hear Charles calling you to meet you in his driver's room.

The room is a mess of post-race adrenaline, empty water bottles litter the table, fireproof gloves are tossed on a chair, and Charles himself is sprawled on the sofa, he's still in his race suit, sweat clinging to his toned chest through the fireproofs. He looks exhausted but exhilarated and handsome to your eyes. You knock on the door.

“Come in!” You hear him say and you enter the room, a shy and tired smile adorns your face.

“Hey, you wanted to see me champ?” you asked softly.

Charles beckons you in, a shy smile playing on his lips. He pats the space beside him on the sofa.

“Yeah, come sit, please. There's a few things we need to go over, but...” He trails off, his gaze lingering on you a beat too long. You raise an eyebrow, amusement tugging at your lips.

“But what?”

“You did amazing today, you know that? We pulled off a miracle out there, keeping the position.” he smiled shyly.

You smiled lovingly at him. “We did, didn't we? Thanks for trusting my calls. You were a rocket ship on that track, Charles.”

His gaze lingers on you a beat too long. You brush a stray strand of hair from your face, feeling a warmth spread through you.

“Always. You're the best engineer I've ever had. Not just because of the numbers, but...” his voice became a little low, he hesitate a bit, then leans in, his voice barely a whisper. “Because you believe in me... Even when I don't believe in myself, even when everyone doubts about my abilities or myself in general.”

Your heart skips a beat, you reach out, your fingers softly grazing his cheek. The touch seems to spark something in him, he leans into your hand, his eyes searching yours.

You blushed a little. “Hey, I'll always believe in you, Charles! You're incredible. You know that, right?”

His eyes hold yours, a new intensity there. He cups your face, his thumb brushing across your lips.

“There's something else I want you to know... Something I've realized lately.” he says with a husky voice.

He trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips, you feel a shiver run down your spine, he leans in slowly, and you meet him halfway. The kiss is electric, fueled by unspoken emotions and the adrenaline of the race. His hands explore your back gently, sending shivers down your spine.

“Your voice...” he kiss you again. “on the radio...” he give you another kiss. “it does things to me...” he said between kisses.

A laugh escapes your lips, breathless. “Like what, Charles?” you ask him teasingly.

He kisses your jaw, his voice a low rumble. “Like... it makes me want to drive faster, makes me want to win, to archive even more podiums... Especially when you...” He hesitates, then whispers in your ear. “Especially when you tell me I'm doing good, when you tell me that I can do it.” he said huskily.

A blush creeps up your neck. You realize what he's saying, a heat pooling in your core.

“So... you like a little praise, huh?” you whisper too.

He kisses your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “More than you know, mon ange, especially if it comes from you.”

The air crackles with unspoken desire. You let out a soft gasp as Charles undoes the buttons of your t-shirt, his touch lingering on the fabric. You reach up and cup his face, pulling him close for another kiss. This time, it's deeper, filled with a new urgency. His hands slide down your back, sending a fire down your spine.

“Then tell me, Charles. What do you want to hear?” you said breathlessly.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes blazing. “Tell me you're proud of me, tell me I drove flawlessly. Tell me you knew I could do it... Please.” he says in a whisper, practically begging you.

You run your hand through his hair, a slow smile spreading across your face. “I am so incredibly proud of you, Charles. You were phenomenal out there, you took that car to its limits and never gave up. You're a phenomenal driver, the best on the grid.”

His eyes lock on yours, the praise filling him with a surge of heat that goes beyond the race. He leans in again, his voice a husky whisper.

“More, keep going amour. Tell me you knew I could keep that podium, even when I doubted myself.”

You trace the outline of his jaw with your thumb, your voice dropping to a low purr. “I always knew you could keep that podium, Charles. You have this incredible talent, this fire inside you. You were born to be a champion!”

His breath hitches, and he pulls you close, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His hands explore your body, finding the small of your back, urging you closer.

“Don't stop please. You make me want to push myself even further, make me want to win every single race left, just to hear you say that again.” says with a ragged voice.

The praise fuels your own desire. You pull back slightly, your gaze flickering over his race suit, you smile.

“Then let's celebrate your podium properly, shall we? Show me just how good you are at taking some orders.” you say with a husky voice, and a triumphant grin splits his face.

The air hums with a different kind of electricity now. Charles's eyes darken, the praise turning him on far more than he expected. He leans in, his voice a low rumble.

“You don't just believe in my driving, do you baby?”

His hand dips under your shirt, brushing softly against your skin. You gasp, a shiver running through you.

“No, Charles. I believe in you... All of you. Your talent, your strength, your incredible heart. You're the most determined, passionate person I know! And seeing you out there, pushing yourself, it does something to me too...”

His touch ignites a fire within you, mirroring the one he feels. You trace a line down his chest, feeling the heat radiating through his damp race suit.

“What does it do, bellissima?” he says with a husky voice.

You lean in close, your lips brushing his ear. “It makes me want to celebrate with you in a very different way.” you whispered in his ear.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. A slow smile spreads across his face, a mix of satisfaction and desire.

“Tell me then, how do you want to celebrate?” he asks.

You run your hand down his arm, sending a spark through both of you. “Let me show you how proud I am of the man you are, not just the driver. How much I admire your strength, your focus, everything that makes you so incredible.”

His breath hitches, and he pulls you close again. This kiss is different, slower, filled with a deeper meaning. His touch explores your body, finding the places that make you shiver, places no one had ever discovered before.

“Then show me, bellissima. Show me everything you've been holding back.” he said with a rough voice.

You pull back slightly, your eyes locked on his. “But first, tell me one more thing. Did you ever think your engineer might be a little turned on by seeing you dominate the track?” you say shyly.

His laugh is a low rumble, filled with pure, unadulterated desire.

“Not until now, but believe me, gorgeous, the feeling is most definitely mutual.”

He finally pulls your shirt up all the way, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. As he slowly undresses you, his eyes never leave yours, a mixture of gratitude and raw desire burning bright. The celebration takes a turn neither of you expected, fueled by the adrenaline of the race, the praise that goes beyond the track, and the deep connection that has been simmering beneath the surface all along.

His eyes scanned your body at a slow place, he was drinking you in just by looking. His lips met yours in a gentle touch and your back met the couch as he hovered over you. Looking into his eyes you kissed him again, biting his lip which elicited a groan from him and a smile from you.

“Oh god amore, are you sure you want this?” He asked. “We can’t go back after you say yes.” he added in a low voice that send shivers down your spine.

“Yes, I’m sure Charles.” you replied bringing his lips down to yours. Detaching his lips from yours he kissed down your body, your skin crawls when you feel his warm lips on your body, slowly kissing every curve and dip that adorns your silhouette, leaving a burning path on your skin, you let out a sigh. “God, you're so good to me Cha...” You whisper between a light sigh, your words made him let out a light growl, he felt his body react to your praise.

“Oh mon amour, je te ferai te sentir si bien... I will make myself worthy of your praise...” He says in a low and sensual voice, the mixture of French and English makes your head go crazy. (Oh my love, I'll make you feel so good...)

His lips continue their journey down your chest, taking the time to kiss your breasts gently, as if they were the most precious thing in the world, then he went down to your abdomen where he left loose kisses in the area, making you release one or another soft sigh. He continued down until he reached your core, he smiled at the sight of you completely naked, he softly kissed the inside of your thighs and your heart started beating super fast.

He started to leave sloppy kisses until he reached your folds, he began to leave sloppy kisses and licks on your wet folds, you raised your hips a little to give him easy access to that area, and he began to devour you slowly, he was taking his time to taste you. Your soft moans didn't take long, he slowly sucked on your clit, making you let out a loud moan that probably rang throughout the deserted paddock, but that's the least of it now.

“Keep doing that Charlie...” you say with heavy breathing and that gave him the impetus to continue savoring you with such passion, you hold on to his soft, silky hair. “God, you're such a... You're such a good boy.” you moan slightly.

Your words lit the fire in him a little bit more and he continued tasting you completely in his mouth, you were like a blessing in his life, like something he had wanted to try for a long time. You felt your walls tighten and a strong wave of pleasure washed over you, you felt like you were going to faint right there.

“Cha... Charlie... I'm... I'm close.” you whispered as you whimpered in pleasure, he stopped his ministrations on your core and looked up at you, god he looked so damn hot, his cheeks flushed, his face sweaty from the strenuous work he was doing down there.

He smiled and took off his boxers, revealing his erect cock, he brought his lips to yours and kissed you softly and sweetly, it was as if he didn't want to let this moment between you go. “If... If you don't feel comfortable or something, just tell me and I'll stop instantly, okay darling?” He said in a hushed whisper looking deeply at your eyes.

You looked and him and smiled shyly. “Charlie, I... I want this the same way you want it, okay? I want you to continue.” you whispered and he nodded. “Just do it, okay honey?”

He aligned himself with your entrance and gently entered you, giving you time to adapt to his big size, your breathing became erratic, he began to move slowly and a little loosely at the same time. He wanted to satisfy you, to please you, make you feel like you are the one who have the power in this precise moment... His hands ran over your body, just as they did at the beginning, until they reached your hips and he placed them there, his thumbs made circles in that area, he began to thrust into you with a little more rhythm. He began to breathe heavily, his hot breath coming into contact with your neck and that gave you chills down your spine, his movements were meticulously perfect, he took the moment to appreciate you and enjoy this.

You felt your walls tightening around him, making the two of you let out moans at the same time, to you, he looked like a Greek god at that moment, sweat taking over his toned torso, his darkened and dilated pupils watching you as if you were a goddess or some kind of miraculous apparition in his life.

“Mhm, bébé, I'm... I'm gonna cum.” he whispered against your neck, his agitated and husky voice a delight to your ears. “God, you feel so good around me chérie.” He murmured as he kissed the skin of your neck, making you sigh again and again.

You moaned as you felt the pleasure wash over you. “Such a good boy my precious Charlie.” you said with a husky voice. “I'm close too, handsome.” you whimpered and you closed your eyes.

The climax reached you two making you tremble with pleasure, your legs trembled and you felt how your breathing stopped being erratic. He rested his forehead against yours and kissed every little part of your face, while you just smiled, the love you feel for this man is incredible, something that goes beyond a simple discussion of strategies or friendly companionship.

When you finally felt that everything in you was completely normal, you spoke. “That... That was, amazing charlie.” you whispered softly, giving him a kiss on his cheek, he smiled. “You made me feel good... I haven't felt like this in a long time.” there was no lie in your statement, it had been a long time since the last time someone had made you feel as good as Charles had.

He smiled and blushed. “It was nothing sunshine, everything for you and only you.” he kissed your cheek. “I think you deserve good things more than anyone else.” he whispered too.

After a few seconds, silence was present in the room, but it was a fairly comfortable one, your hands were intertwined with his and your thumb caressed the back of his hand, you smiled shyly at the sight, it was something that looked so cute and innocent.

He smiled again and looked at you with great affection in his eyes. “I love you, darling... Thank you for this!” He whispered sweetly and kissed your temple.

You smiled tenderly. “I love you too charlie.” you whispered too. “Don't you think we should take even a quick shower?” You say and let out a shy giggle.

He smiles and raises his eyebrows, blushing. “Oh... Of course love!”

You just smile at him again and you kiss his cheek. “And then you take me to my hotel?”

He denied and picked you up in his arms to walk to the small bathroom in his driver room, you let out a soft gasp. “Oh, no my love... We will go to my house!” He said.

You raised your eyebrows and chuckled. “But... And my things? Everything is in the hotel...” You started to say but he interrupted you, leaving several small kisses on your lips.

“Don't worry about it honey, we'll look for that before we go to my house.” he smiled. “Just worry about being pretty and smart, my honey.” you giggled at his words.

“You forgot to mention bossy.” he laughed and blushed.

“Oh sure, a little bossy, but that's how I like you.” he whispered on your lips and kissed you again.

You just smiled while you went into the shower, you felt very happy because you never thought that Charles had something for you and that at the end of the day it was something that you also wanted at some point. You admired him as a driver, that was for sure, but as a person it was a totally inexplicable thing. Today showed you that, apart from being good at taking orders, he was excellent pleasing you and showing his true emotions, you can't wait to see where this new journey might take you both.

#formula one x reader #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles x reader #charles leclerc #mariclerc fics #charles x you #charles leclerc soft smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc soft

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guppybibi · 2 months ago

Text

i wrote this in under 30 minutes, not proofread, plus it's night so it's not actually me writing it.

This wasn't how his angel’s wedding was supposed to go, no not even the tiniest bit close! And whose fault was it? The pair of fucking attention seeking bastards sitting ‘prettily’ at the guests table, bragging about the unnecessarily expensive car they recently got to a bunch of people who couldn't even give two fucks. That wasn't even the worst part, the woman thought it was a good idea to show up to the wedding in white, when there was a specific color code for the women that was clearly stated in the details of the invitation. Oh and she even had the guts to defend herself like she was an innocent little thing who could do no harm when John confronted her about the dress.

“It's not white, it's chiffon! Two different things!” She exclaims, dramatically sighing as if John had physically attacked her right now. (He would've if she kept acting like this.) Whatever, a dress can't ruin your perfect day. Not on John’s watch at least. Until the pair pull another unexpected trick out their sleeve. It happened all too fast as well that John simply had to just watch the whole thing go down.

“Will you marry me?” The man asks, holding..well more like flaunting the tiny leatherette box that contained a shiny diamond ring. “Yes, yes! I do!” The woman agrees, practically jumping in her heels. And..everyone in the venue is confused, awkward whispers and congratulations filling the room. By this time, it's taking every fiber of John’s being to restrain himself from kicking their asses out of here. Every minute they spend here, he's basically questioning himself—why won't he politely tell them to leave? It's not like he's hurting anyone aside from their feelings so..why?

Maybe it's the way you tug at his arm and shake your head when you notice him fuming at the sight of the bitchy pair, attempting to calm him down and not get his blood pressure too high. “It's okay, let them be. They're my friends. I didn't expect them to do this but no matter what they do they aren't going to ruin my special day, trust me.” You whisper to him, eyes wandering around the place and locking onto the table full of an arrangement of food. “C’mon let's grab a snack.” You giggle, pulling him along.

He doesn't get it, not one bit. If he was you, he’d have the couple far away from here. Like, on top of Mount Everest kind of far. It leaves him questioning your choices the whole evening, and a question without an answer is enough to keep John awake at night. In hopes of a goodnight’s sleep, he asks you.

“I think you were too patient with them, love. You could've told me the words and I would've had them out of here in a heartbeat. Why did you let them stay?” He wasn't exactly sure what your reply was going to be but..

“Well it's not purely out of respect and politeness itself, John. I let them stay because no matter what they were planning, it wasn't going to ruin my day. As long as by the end of it, I’m Mrs. Price!”

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heytheredelulu · 5 months ago

Note

Hey i hope you’re doing well i have an idea for a one shot and was wondering if you could write it.

So basically Bucky hears the reader talking to Natasha or anyone that she thinks she’s too heavy for any partner and that she has given up on dating for a while because of that, and of course Bucky hearing that he starts lifting heavy stuff such as weights, machines or even Steve😭 around the reader to show her he can easily lift her weight as well because he has feelings for her and you can add or change whatever you like and make it smutty idk whatever you think is right i trust your skills.

Hi! I’m doing good, how are you?

This request? Uh, YES. 🙌🏻

I love this idea!

I wrote this fully intending on Steve being like, “She ain’t lookin’, Buck. Lift me.” and then changed my mind and rewrote it when it took on a life of its own. 😂

I live and breathe smut so I definitely threw that in there in the form of Bucky needing to blow off some steam when he thinks about the reader. 😉

Anyway, thank you for the request and I hope it’s what you were looking for!

💋Sj

Bucky Barnes x Plus!Size Reader

18+

Word Count: 2.9k

CW: Male masturbation while fantasizing about oral (f receiving) and sex

“Bullshit.”

Bucky’s ears perk up as he passes the garage and hears Natasha fussing at someone in a string of curses, but it’s your voice that has him peering around the concrete wall with interest.

“I ain’t lyin’ Nat.”

You’re bent over the open hood of an old hot rod, your ass accentuated by the denim jeans hugging your curves. You blindly reach out towards the red headed assassin wiggling your fingers at her that are blackened with grease. Natasha rolls her eyes, pushing off the wall and picking up a socket wrench that she holds just barely in your reach. You let out a sigh, standing upright and snatching it from her.

“Look.” You tell her pointedly, blowing a loose piece of hair back from your face with a huff from your pouty lips. “It’s been months. I’m sufferin’, I am, really. But I’m just over it, you know?”

“No, I don’t know.” She replies, leaning her hip against the side of the car, watching you with a skeptical frown. “If you’re suffering, just come out with me. We can hit up that rooftop bar downtown. Have a couple drinks, dance a bit, pick up some hot strangers and scratch that itch. Come on.”

Scratch that itch?

A muscle jumps in Bucky’s jaw at Nat’s comment and he can feel his jealousy simmering low in his gut.

He’s been pining after you damn near since you’d arrived at the compound. The sweet little engineer Tony brought on to help take on his workload was only supposed to stick around and help out for a few months but when the team expressed their disappointment in you leaving and Tony realized despite his astronomically sized ego that he could get twice as much done with your help, giving him the opportunity for more free time with his family- you were brought on full time.

“I can scratch my own itches, thanks.”

Your curt reply to Nat brought Bucky’s attention back to the conversation he was eavesdropping on while the implication caught the attention of his cock, his jeans suddenly feeling tighter as he continued to listen.

“You’re crazy. You need to get laid.”

“Nat.” You warn and turn your back to her to grab a hand towel.

“Come on.” She pleaded, crossing her arms. “You’ve been so wound up. Nothing loosens you up better than a big, thick-“

Nat’s cut off by the hand towel being tossed in her direction and she catches it with a chuckle.

“I don’t understand why you’re so hung up on this.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so afraid to get laid.” She counters.

“I’m not afraid.” You protest, raking a hand through your hair. “I’m just- I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

Nat’s expression softens as she hangs the hand towel over the open hood. “Try?” She asks. “We’re friends, you know you can talk to me.”

Bucky watches you shift uncomfortably and for a moment he feels guilty for listening in, as it’s clear you’re debating on confiding in Natasha and it feels wrong to eavesdrop on something so private. But as soon as you let out that defeated sigh and begin to explain yourself, he’s so goddamn grateful that this was the conversation he had a chance to overhear.

“Men just don’t know how to handle me.” You admit, leaning back over the car and pretending to inspect something to avoid eye contact with Natasha but she isn’t having any of it, bending down to hold your gaze. “How so?”

“They just-“ You huff out a breath of annoyance, bracing your palms on the front of the car and standing upright. “I’m curvy, yeah? And I want a man that’s gonna pick me up, toss me around, hold me up and fuck me on a wall or somethin’ but the last couple guys I went home with they’re so.. boring. Missionary. Doggy. Like for once, would it be too much to ask for a dude to want to, I dunno, have me sit on their face? I swear, it’s like they’re afraid. I ain’t ashamed of my body, I like the way I look but shit, Nat. It really fucks with a girls head to feel like she’s too heavy or something to really be satisfied.”

Natasha’s moving closer to you, beginning to say something about ‘weak men with noodle arms’ but Bucky can’t hear it over the steady thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears.

He can’t believe that your experiences have been so lousy that you won’t even entertain the idea of going out with Nat if she was wanting to pick up guys. Honestly, he’s relieved by that, since the idea of you hooking up with anyone has the knuckles of his flesh hand bleached white with how hard he’s clenching his fist. He flexes his fingers, trying to relax his hand as he feels a wave of embarrassment wash over him. How could he be angry or even jealous when he’s been too shy to make a move?

C’mon Barnes, grow a pair.

She wants strong? You can show her strong.

He sucks in a breath, steeling his nerves before rounding the corner and strolling into the garage with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “Hey Nat.” He says with a friendly nod before slowly swinging his gaze over to you. “Doll.” He drawls. “What are you ladies up to this morning?” Your cheeks heat under the warmth of his cerulean eyes roaming over your body and you fumble the socket wrench, earning a lopsided grin from the handsome brunette. “Just- just workin’ on my project.” You stammer, bending down to pick up the tool. Damn, one flash of this man’s pearly whites is all it takes for you to lose control of your fine motor skills? Maybe you do need that itch scratched more than you’ve let on to your best friend and she can tell too, her brow lifting as she watches the scene unfolding.

“Mustang?” He asks, planting his hands on his hips. His eyes follow you as you bend over and reach for the socket wrench that’s just out of your reach underneath the car. When you stretch, your baggy t-shirt rises up your midriff, giving him a glimpse of that cute little pooch tucked into the dark-wash denim jeans that are deliciously hugging your hips and thighs.

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “1960’s?” He asks, leaning down behind you. God, what he’d do to bring his palm down hard on your perfect, round ass and watch the flesh redden with each swat of his hand.

“‘62.” You grunt, your fingertips brushing the tool that’s just barely out of reach. Bucky shrugs off his leather jacket and tosses it lazily over the workbench before stepping in even closer to you. “Here, lemme get that for you, doll.” He murmurs, his vibranium hand settling on the underside of the Mustang. Before you can eke out a reply, he’s lifting the vehicle off the garage floor like a goddamn carjack with enough ease that it makes the 3500 pound car seem as if it were cut from styrofoam. You’re frozen in place on your hands and knees from the show of brawn so it’s Natasha that crouches down and quickly grabs up the socket wrench before you snap out of your trance and scramble to your feet.

Nat presses the tool firmly into your palm while giving you a look that screamed, ‘do not fuck this up’ and saunters backwards admist the low groan of your car being set back down on its tires. “I gotta meet Steve for a briefing.” She tells you, which you know is a damn lie- but you nod nonetheless and stutter out a, “Y-yeah, yeah. Catch you later.” She gives you a little wave and jogs off, her red waves bouncing in stride. When you turn back around, Bucky is leaning against the car with his arms crossed, his biceps testing the integrity of his black tshirt.

Goddamn, that’s some quality fabric.

His gaze is locked on you, making you sweat a little under the intense stare so you awkwardly begin picking up the rest of your tools and putting them back in their rightful place at your workbench. A strong arm comes into view in your periphery as Bucky plucks up his jacket and you nearly lose your breath at the scent of cedarwood and leather. He slings the coat over his right shoulder, holding it with his flesh hand, his vibranium hand reaching up to rake through his cropped hair. “Finished so soon?” He asks. “You ain’t gotta quit workin’ just ‘cause I stopped by.”

“Oh, no. No, I-“ You swallow thickly at the way the corner of his mouth twitches up into a smirk. “I actually was just getting to a stopping point.” You tell him, absentmindedly pulling your hair up into a ponytail. With your neck exposed, he wets his bottom lip at the thought of dragging his teeth across the skin and that little glimpse of his tongue flicking out has you struggling to focus anywhere but his mouth. “Got somewhere you gotta be?” He asks, his voice low and gruff.

Fuck, this man is sex on legs. On two thick, strong legs.

You nod quickly. “Yeah, I got a meeting with Tony about a new project.” You explain, though it comes out an octave higher than usual. He quirks a brow. “Yeah? You got a new project?”

“Yep. Yeah. I better get going.” You teeter on your heel, ready to flee.

Chicken shit.

“Hey, wait. Hold on.” He says gently, reaching to grab your wrist and setting your skin ablaze with the touch. You glance over your shoulder at him. “Hm?”

“What’re you doin’ tonight, doll?”

“What am I..?”

Holy fucking shit. Is he gonna-

No, no way. This is Bucky fuckin’ Barnes. You two are friends. He’s your friend. Your insanely hot friend that you’ve definitely had some filthy, sinful thoughts about, but he’s never led you to believe that he’s ever thought of you as more than a friend.

Or has he? I mean, you’ve caught his eyes lingering on you on a few occasions but that doesn’t mean-

“Lemme take you to dinner.”

Oh. Oh.

It takes you a few seconds to realize that you’re staring at him like an idiot with your mouth agape before you click your jaw shut and nod. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, alright.” You manage.

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Yeah? I’ll pick you up at 6?” He asks, stuffing his hands into his pockets as tries to reign in his eagerness.

“That sounds- that sounds great.”

“Great.” He repeats, toeing the ground with his boot before taking a step backwards towards the open garage door. He sweeps his eyes over you one last time. “It’s a date, then.” And he ducks out of the garage back toward the compound.

You said yes.

He slips into his bedroom, the door clicking shut behind him and he falls back onto his bed, letting out a breath of disbelief. He’s taking you out. He finally fucking asked.

Laying in silence for several minutes he replays the interaction over in his mind like he typically did after he was around you. He had a tendency to over analyze your body language, your expressions, hang on to your every word like it kept him afloat in his sea of anxiety; though sometimes, most times, he let himself drown. He drowned in the worry that maybe he was imaging the way your voice caught around him. The way you tensed when he got close.

But you said yes.

You wouldn’t have said yes if he was just imagining it, right?

He lets out a huff, scrubbing a hand down his face as your words to Nat echo through his head like a shout in a cavern.

“Like for once, would it be too much to ask for a dude to want to, I dunno, have me sit on their face?”

And there’s his cock again, straining against his jeans just from the thought.

He groans softly, flicking the button open and unzipping his fly to give himself some relief from the pressure as he stares at the ceiling, watching the fan spin round and round and..

It takes all of the self control he can muster not to reach into his boxers so his hands fist in the sheets in restraint.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked his fist to the thought of you. Hell, it wouldn’t be the 2nd, 5th or even 10th time he’d done it.

He lets his eyes slip closed, imagining your plush thighs straddling his head as you smother him with your pretty, wet cunt. His aching cock twitching with need from neglect as he focuses all of his attention on delving his tongue into your tight, warm, hole.. closing his lips around that swollen button that makes you writhe in pleasure.. your puffy pussy lips grinding against his face as you use him to chase your release .. your sweet, sweet slick coating his chin and-

Fuck it.

He shifts his weight on the mattress, tugging his jeans down enough for his erection to spring free, spitting in his flesh hand and slowly stroking himself. He groans, squeezing the crown of his cock, a bead of pearly precum gathering at his slit that he rubs roughly with his thumb. Bucky can imagine you on top of him, your pouty lips parting with a soft gasp as you sink down onto him, maybe even a hiss or shit- a whimper from the stretch when he splits you open. He knows he’s thicker than most men, a side effect of the serum- everything about him is bigger, thicker, better. Fuck those other men who couldn’t satisfy you. Fuck them. He strokes himself faster, the thought of you bouncing on his cock making his toes curl. Your tits, those big beautiful tits, swinging, slapping together with every thrust.

He’d reach up and pinch one of your pebbled nipples, rolling the sensitive peak between his fingers, cupping the other with his hand to give it equal attention. It’d be heavy in his palm, he just knows it. Heavy, warm and filling his whole fucking hand. He imagines yanking you forward and burying his face in those perfect breasts before trailing sloppy, open mouthed kisses up through the valley of them. He’d trace the tip of his nose across the swell and sink his teeth into the supple flesh, soothing the sting with a lave of his tongue, making you collapse forward against him as you cry out in pleasure. He could fuck up into you deeper at that angle, feel the tip of his cock kiss your cervix over and over until you see stars and lose your rhythm as your orgasm tears through you.

Yeah, he’d make you come so hard you’re limp on top of him and he’d reach behind you, grabbing a handful of your plump, round ass and taking control, moving you up and down the length of him at a frenzied pace until he-

His fantasy fades as his climax crests and he grunts, thick ropes of come spilling over his fist and onto his pubic bone.

He lies still and silent, his heartbeat a metronome in his ear, keeping time of the minutes that stretch on while he steadies his ragged breathing. With a sigh he sits up, looking down at the mess in his lap as his euphoria dissipates and the shame starts to creep in.

He’s certain of two things in that moment-

One, he needs a goddamn shower and two, this will be the last time he fantasizes about fucking you.

Pulling himself to his feet, he glances over at the clock.

14:17.

He smiles to himself, crossing the threshold into the bathroom and twisting the shower on. His flesh hand tests the water, the warm spray cleaning the sticky release from between his fingers before he steps in, letting the water cascade over him.

Less than four hours. He thinks to himself.

In less than four hours he’ll be sitting across from you in a dimly lit restaurant, watching your eyes sparkle in the candlelight as he prompts you about your favorite things just so he can see the way you light up when you talk about your passions. He smiles to himself at the image of your hands gesturing wildly as you talk, the sound of your infectious laugh and the way your breasts bounce when it bubbles up from your chest.

He begins to stiffen again at the thought.

Goddamnit, his cock just won’t quit, will it?

He turns the knob, the water quickly growing ice cold and he grits his teeth at the temperature change, cursing the serum for making his refractory period so short. He’s grateful for it in the proper circumstance, but when he’s alone it’s a fuckin’ nuisance.

Bucky’s eyes slip shut, focusing in on the feeling of the frigid water splashing against the top of his head and rolling down the taut muscle of his back. Eventually the ache ebbs and he cranks the temperature back up, reaching for his shampoo. The cedarwood fragrance clings to the steam, filling his nostrils as he massages it into his scalp. Tipping his head back under the steady stream, he sighs contentedly.

Tonight’s the night he finally gets his girl.

#bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #ask request #ask response

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hminnj · 3 months ago

Text

Maybe In A Different Age

Senku/fem reader

cw: angst no comfort (i tried) ik this fandom kinda dead lowkey but I wanted to write this cause its so senku coded. Senku's an idiot (unsuprisingly). Not very good writing.

wc: uhh i wrote this in my notes, around 1k probably

Byakuya brings two strangers into their house on a random thursday.

"Senku, this is a close friend and her daughter, I'm sure you guys will get along splendidly."

"Ok."

Five year old Senku is harshly blunt when he meets you for the first time, staring at him silently as if you've never seen a human before. He doesn't have anything to say and it seems neither do you, so he walks off, deciding he has better things to do. Promptly ignoring the sigh and apology the older man lets out.

"So I got this new idea and I'm going through the basic logistics and research right now, might need your help later."

"I'll go get us some snacks and something to do while you work on it then."

Six year old Senku watches you dissappear from his doorway, absentmindedly humming while you head to the very familiar kitchen. Your family has been apparently busy as of late so he forcibly sees your face more often. You usually just eat his food, do your work, and ask him (dumb) questions. You're a friend now, he supposes.

"Hey dum dum, Byakuya got me new equipment, so I have some new ideas. So listen up."

"Course Senku!"

Seven year old Senku grins, you're always willing to help him out for whatever reason you have (something weird probably, in his opinion). In return, he always tells you what he's working on and his labor demands. So per usual, he excitedly gets into the details of the next project that he plans on working you and Taiju to the bone for.

"Hey Senku?"

"What?"

"I think I love you."

"Huh? You better not be catching feelings dum dum." He gives you a confused squint after hearing your words.

"Whatever you say." You hum

Eight year old Senku hears you say those three words for the first time, you don't say why and he doesn't know either. He thinks its rather idiotic, but he shrugs it off after you silently go back to reading. You've been picking up books more often as of late, not that he cares much.

"You're late for the test runs, Taiju and Yuzuriha already left."

"Sorry sorry! My teacher held me up a little later at practice today."

"Hm." His disappointed stare returns.

"Im sorry..? Love you?" You're sheepish with your response.

"How is that supposed to make up for anything? Now come help me carry this stuff"

"As you wish, princess Senku."

Nine year old Senku doesn't understand why you and Byakuya tell him that so often (or that stupid nickname sourced from his "feebleness"), but he moves on quickly to detail the results of the test and the numerous next steps. Much to his pleasure.

"Wake up stupid. You fell asleep." Senku (roughly) shakes you awake from your shoulders, poking at your face a few times.

"Huh? Oh sorry Senku, I guess I'm just tired."

"Well you're not gonna wanna miss this." He grins while looking up, expectant.

"Hm. Hey the moons pretty tonight yeah?"

"It looks the same as it always does. Is that poetry getting to you and making you sappy?"

You wait before responding, "Maybe."

Eleven year old Senku keeps you up on certain nights for his projects or for nights like these where there's a meteor shower. He thinks you should stop reading so much of those books that make you sound like Byakuya. You should also get more rest, he adds.

"Happy Valentines Day Senku!! Got you a gift, heh."

"Must I tell you again?" Senku turns to a usual sight, you waving a gift in front of his face as if he were a dog.

"I'm good I just wanted to remind you."

"Right."

Twelve year old Senku doesn't see the point in meaningless feelings or holidays for said feelings. Nevertheless, he takes the homemade chocolate from you, skimming through the card which contents include exactly what he expected (a confession of sorts, again), and placing it to the side. Ignoring it in favor of the much more sensible chemicals in front of him. Like every year though, Senku keeps it. He doesn't know why.

"Taiju and Yuzuriha definitely have something going on don't you think?"

"And you're bringing this up why?"

You pause, you know why, but you know he wouldn't understand. "It's cute... wish I could have something like that you know?"

"...For the last time-"

"I know I know Senku, don't worry I'll try to bother you less."

Thirteen year old Senku doesn't see you as much anymore, mostly because of your practice that your mom wants you to perfect. You come over less nowadays, a shame (for his projects obviously), but your presence isn't any smaller of an intrusion at school. So much for bothering him less.

Around 21:00 is when he hears the familiar ringing of his doorbell. "It's late, why are you here?"

"Got out of training not too long ago and wanted to see you before I headed in."

"Your house isn't even remotely close to mine" A raised eyebrow is all you get in response to your grin.

"What does it matter when I'm already here, but gotta go before I get scolded. Goodnight Senku, Love you!"

"You know it's never gonna happen, as you know-"

"Yeah yeah, 10 billion percent illogical, I know, but I can't let my favorite person forget can I?" You flash another smile.

"As if I'd ever with how often you say it, now goodnight."

Fourteen year old Senku closes the door after you've cheerfully said your bye and faded from his sight enough. The lack of noise is strange, now that Byakuya has "ascended like an angel" (his words not Senkus) it's much quieter. The usual noise of a certain two people is absent more often than not. He let's the silence of the house sit in.

"Hey, can you get me something from the storage real quick? Need it soon but that bonehead forgot when he came up here babbling about confessing to Yuzuriha"

"Of course. I'd do anything for you. Always here. You know that Sen."

Fifteen year old Senku glances at your fleeting figure. The nickname is new, for sure. And he can't say he dislikes it, but the lack of a certain three words with your departure is strange. He brushes it off to your usual forgetfulness and peers out the window at Taiju and Yuzuriha. Thoughts preoccupied until a bright green light overtakes his vision and he can't do anything but think into the void.

So he counts.

And maybe every once in a while you pop into his head like you always do.

Three-thousand and something year old Senku wakes up to a world where theres a lack of civilization, a lack of his decency, and most importantly, a lack of you.

You would be useful right now, he supposes.

Three-thousand and something year old Senku spends his free time trying to find you and the rest of the "gang" (as you would say).

He finds Taiju, he finds Yuzuriha, he also finds a lion-punching maniac, but there's no sign of you.

He's ten billion percent sure you survived.

Right?

The concerned stare Yuzuriha gives him as they part is ignored.

(Physically) Sixteen year old Senku celebrates this birthday gazing into the sky from his new observatory. It reminds him of a lot of things, but he can't help but notice how empty it is, it's eerily quiet.

He doesn't like it.

Senku wishes you were here.

His first real birthday wish.

(Still) Sixteen year old Senku breaks when he hears his father's voice again for the first time in ages. It's not his voice that gets to Senku. He's heard it plenty enough in his lifetime. It's the mention of you.

"Just kidding! I know it's you on the other side of this Senku! And ____'s there with you right? Please tell me you're dating already or even better married so I can have grandchildren. Please please please Senku! Although you can't really tell me that but-"

Senku stops himself from showing vulnerability in front of the village, and he also stops himself from pausing the record right there and then. Opting to sigh and curse his dad out as a cover up, his fist lightly punching the table.

"Damn you old man."

The questions from the villagers about who you could be are forgotten in favor of an angelic voice. Senku's quick to tune it out. It reminds him of you.

(Mentally) Sixteen year old Senku sits by himself that night. It's been a long day. The constant repeat of a certain melody in the background, more work for the science kingdom, and a few questions about who you were. They stopped after a few radio silences from him, feelings are hard for the scientist after all.

It's cold.

He wishes you were here.

It's dark.

He wishes you were here.

It's lonely.

He wishes you were here.

The day he can always guarantee you're there has long passed. You should be here, is what his mind tells him. You owe him for the past 3000 years of missed birthdays after all.

It's funny, in his opinion. That you were probably most-definitely always there. And the one (multiple actually, 10 billion in his mind) time he looks for you, you're not there.

He doesn't think its funny.

"I'd do anything for you huh..."

Anything but keep your word.

He scoffs, but it's directed at himself. He would never blame you for this, or anything for that matter, he can't.

So he sits. And he stays. Like you would've wanted him too. He looks at the clear sky like you usually do. And he notes how the moon is pretty tonight. Just like you.

"I love you too."

He's 10 billion percent sure he does.

Thanks for reading, if you did :). Sorry for any errors not fully proofread. Senku is so right person wrong time coded when it comes to romance that i had to write this even if its lowkey bad

#ishigami senku #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader #senku #dcst senku

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mountain-maiden · 10 months ago

Text

Working Hard (Hardly Working)

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

WC: 4k

Summary: Joel helps you out at the gym and you thank him in the locker room ;)

Content: 18+ MDNI, slightly unhealthy relationship with food (blink and you’ll miss it), oral f!receiving, Joel Miller is a munch, unprotected piv, cream pie, reader is able to lift weights & incline walk, Joel is able to lift reader.

a/n: I wrote this instead of going to the gym :/ If you hate it please don't tell me 😘

You push open the doors to the gym, the familiar smell of metal and sweat invading your lungs as you step inside. You don’t necessarily enjoy working out, but you do enjoy sweet treats, and that makes working out a necessity. So, a few weeks ago, you begrudgingly got yourself a membership the gym closest to where you live, which happened to be Rock Hard Fitness. Unsurprisingly, it was an extremely male dominated environment.

After swiping your key card, you drop your stuff in the locker room and head to the dreaded cardio floor. You mildly dislike working out, but you absolutely hate cardio, and unfortunately for you, the weight floor is packed full of gym bros and meatheads who are not pleased to share their space with beginners who aren’t “on their level.” Despite the unwelcoming atmosphere, you can’t stand another day of incline walking; today you're going to lift weights or die trying.

From the cardio deck, you watch the people lifting, taking stock of the machines being used least and trying to pick out any attractive guys you can distract yourself with during your warmup. You really don’t enjoy the typical gym bro look, which means your efforts are most often for naught, but today someone different catches your eye. He’s definitely older than the average guy in the gym, broad shoulders, meaty thighs—you're basically drooling while watching him. Is it wrong to objectify people in the gym? Absolutely. Does that stop you from thirsting over the mystery gym dilf? Absolutely not.

After deeming yourself officially warmed up, you leave the safety of the cardio deck, jumping straight into the shark tank. Immediately, the booming bass of the speakers is leaking through your headphones, no longer allowing you to enjoy Kesha and Britney in peace. Great. You just take the headphones off, leaving them in your locker with the rest of your stuff before spying the gym equivalent of a unicorn: a squat rack, completely open.

You make a beeline for the rack and immediately set your sweatshirt and water bottle on the ground beside it, staking your claim. Not having to fight for a place to lift takes away half the battle of the weight deck; you breathe a sigh of relief as you survey the rest of the floor.

Now your only problem is that it’s been months since you last lifted, and you have absolutely no idea what weight to start with. You know you've lost strength, but surely you’re still able to lift your warm-up weight, right? The weights are added, and you line yourself up, taking a couple of breaths to steady yourself before standing up, moving the bar from the rack to your shoulders. Immediately, the weight is not what you remembered it being—much heavier, in fact—but you’re not about to immediately rerack and take weight off; that would be humiliating.

So, you steady yourself and dip down, enjoying the familiar strain of your muscles. After the first rep, you’re feeling alright, you can definitely handle this weight, you’ll just do less repetitions. You continue, reveling in the burn of your legs as you struggle to push yourself back up as you complete the first set. You’ve done the 6 reps you decided on, but you’re feeling good and you’re pretty confident you can do another so you go back down, determined to complete a seventh and immediately you can tell it’s a mistake.

You get stuck halfway back up, no matter how hard you strain, the weight won’t budge. You’ve never had to bail before, always having a spotter, you realize you don’t even know how to safely drop the weight. This is it, you’re going to humiliate yourself your first day in this gym and you’ll never be able to show your face again. Your legs are shaking, you’re panting with the effort to hold yourself up when your saving grace arrives.

You hear the low drawl of a southern accent and suddenly the weight has been halved, allowing you to stand up and rerack the weight. You turn around to thank your savior and are struck speechless when you find yourself face to face with mystery gym dilf.

“You alright there?” He asks, eyebrows scrunched with concern.

“Yeah, uh, yes, thank you, “ you answer breathlessly.

“S’really no trouble, can’t believe nobody helped you sooner,” He huffs, clearly offended on your behalf. Your face heats as you realize this means he saw how long you were stuck for.

“Well, everyone’s wrapped up in themselves, I guess that’s half the point of coming here,” you shrug, unbothered by your fellow gym goer’s lack of concern for your wellbeing.

“Gym bros,” you sigh in unison, and immediately burst into laughter.

“Can’t stand gym folk, but I stopped workin’ construction and now I actually gotta workout,” He explains, as if he needs to prove he isn’t one of the aforementioned gym bros.

“Me too,” you sigh, and burst into laughter at the skeptical look he gives you.

“No, I’m a barista, I just make myself too many drinks to not be working out,” you laugh and watch as his expression shifts to one of amusement.

“You’ve got jokes,” he chuckles, “I was wonderin’ what someone as pretty as you was doin’ workin’ construction.”

Your face heats at his compliment, “What? Your construction crew isn’t full of beautiful women?”

“Trust me darlin’, if you were on my crew I wouldn’t ‘a switched to management.” He leans up against the rack, watching you closely for your reaction to his bold comment.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were coming on to me,” you smirk, watching the tips of his ears go pink despite him initiating the flirting.

“Is that okay?” He asks, boldness suddenly replaced with a self conscious demeanor, “I wasn’t aimin’ to make ya uncomfortable.”

“That is more than okay,” you try to remember his name and realize he never gave it.

“Joel,” He sticks his hand out and you hold back a small laugh at the formality.

You give him your name and when he repeats it, testing the word in his mouth, you don’t think it’s ever sounded better.

“Well, I was just wrappin’ up,” He scratches the back of his head, as if he is unsure how to proceed now that you’ve actually introduced eachother.

“If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind spotting me?” You ask, searching his face for any sign of displeasure, “I mean, I think we both know I could use one.”

He laughs at that. “Not any trouble at all, darlin’.”

Your breath hitches at the nickname. You’d never been one for petnames but the way it sounds coming from his mouth, his low southern drawl, the slight gravel of his voice, it has you fighting the urge to squeeze your thighs together. You look up after realizing you’d been silent just a little to long and spot the amused glint in his eyes.

“Alright, 2nd times the charm I guess,” you say before positioning yourself beneath the bar again, this time with the security of Joel’s warmth behind your back.

You lift the bar off the rack and hinge down, enjoying the familiar burn of pushing back up, it’s on about your third rep that you begin to struggle, taking slightly longer to straighten out. It’s at this point when Joel steps a little closer, not touching the bar but readying himself to step in.

“Atta girl,” Joel encourages as you push yourself up, the praise sending a jolt of heat to your core.

You need to lock in, you can’t get distracted because an attractive older man is giving you the praise your father never did. But, when you complete your next rep and he murmurs more encouragement, you swear he has to be fucking with you. There is no way he isn’t aware of the effect his words are having on you.

You do your second to last rep and he leans forward slightly, “Such a good girl.”

You damn near drop the weight, and when you complete the set and rerack the bar, you whip around and are met with Joel’s smirking face. He definitely knew what he was doing, and your look of annoyance seemed to only further his amusement.

“Somethin’ wrong?” His eyes widen as he feigns innocence. Fine, two can play that game.

“My form feels a little off, can you tell me if it looks alright?” Before he gets a chance to respond you’re already dropped down in a body weight squat, just close enough that your ass brushes the front of his shorts. You know if he didn’t want this he’d take a step back, but to your surprise he stays right where he is and you can feel the bulge in his shorts growing with each rep.

“Form looks alright to me, darlin’,” Joel rolls his eyes at your antics, “You grind on any man who spots you?”

“Just the ones I like,” you throw back before turning around, watching the spark of amusement in his eyes give way to darkening pupils.

“You want a hand with that?” You gesture to the growing outline of his cock against the confines of his shorts, “or a mouth?”

“I wouldn’t object,” Joel smirks, taking your hand and practically dragging you to the locker room.

You find an empty changing stall and you are immediately tearing at Joel’s clothes trying to remove the layers keeping you from the broad shoulders and thick thighs you knew he was hiding. Eventually you remember the reason you came in here and drop to your knees, pawing at his boxers.

“Fuck darlin’, ya gotta let me taste you,” Joel lifts you from your knees and sets you on the bench with the ease of someone moving a misbehaved kitten. He drops to his knees and that’s when you register what he means.

You freeze, shock apparent in your features because Joel stops pulling down your shorts to look at you, “Are you comfortable with this?” He asks, searching your features for an answer, “If you want to be done just say the word darlin’, no hard feelings.”

“No! Trust me I am more than comfortable with this,” you jump to reassure, “I’ve just never met a guy that actually wants to give me head.”

He scoffs before continuing his efforts to get your tight gym shorts off, “Idiots.”

You almost laugh at how immediately he’d resumed his work once he’d been given the go ahead. He groans when he sees the wet spot on your panties, a plain cotton thong, and before you have time to feel embarrassed he’s ripped them down your legs and is devouring you with a vigour you’ve never experienced.

Joel eats pussy like he’s starved, lapping at your slick like its the best thing he’s ever tasted, and if you asked him, he’d say it was. You thread your fingers through his hair and he groans when you pull.

“Tell me what you like,” He murmurs, parting with your pussy for the few precious seconds it takes to get the words out.

“What?” Your face scrunches with confusion and pleasure as his lips create suction against your clit.

“When I do something you like, tell me. When I do something you don’t like, tell me.” He directs before returning to his mouth to your pussy, swiping small circles around your clit with his tongue.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan with complete disregard for the extremely thin door separating you from a heavily populated public space.

He switches from languid movements against your clit to lapping along your slit, never fully breeching the entrance, teasing you realize.

“Don’t tease,” you manage to get out, a tug of his hair accompanying your directive as you attempt to signal his efforts should return to your clit.

“Is there something you want?” He looks up, a smug smile painting his face. Of course he was on his knees and you were still going to be the one begging.

“What you were doing before,” you really don’t want to explicitly state what you want.

“You can grind on me in a public gym but you can’t tell me how you want your pussy eaten?” Joel chuckles, blatantly amused at your sudden prudeness.

“Stop being an asshole, you know what I want,” you know getting annoyed with the only man who’s been eager to give you head for wanting you to tell him how to do it best is completely unreasonable, but you also know he is purposefully being difficult.

“Here, I’ll even tell you what to say,” a mischevious glint appears in his eyes, “‘Joel, please lick my clit’, that’s all you gotta say darlin’”.

Your eyes widen at the crude language and he chuckles at your shocked expression, as if you weren’t already getting eaten out in the locker room of a public gym. You figure a few crass words couldn’t dig you into any deeper trouble.

You take a deep breathe and meet Joel’s eyes, irises taken over by the black abyss of his pupils. “Joel, please lick my clit.”

He supresses a shudder and you see his left hand reach down to palm his cock through his shorts before he smiles, “Your wish is my command, sweetheart.”

He dives in, and immediately his tongue is working over your clit, drawing figure eights and circles, never letting the pattern become predictable, never letting you get used to the stimulation.

You moan as his tongue works its magic, and his hands reach up and grasp your breasts, squeezing and massaging. Eventually, he slides a finger along your slit, and without warning, plunges it into you. You groan at the intrusion and buck against his mouth. He doesn’t stop licking, instead sliding his free hand down to try to relieve some pressure from his cock, palming himself desperately through his shorts to your whimpers and moans.

It isn't long before you feel the knot in your stomach start to build, and your breath starts to catch in your throat.

"Oh fuck, Joel I'm gonna cum," You warn him,

Joel groans into your pussy as he continues to lick and suck at your juices, speeding up his actions.

You're moaning and gasping, and suddenly your orgasm hits you. You buck against Joel's face and cry out. He moans at the feeling of you clenching around his fingers as he works you through your high, lapping more gently at your clit as you shudder through the waves of pleasure.

"Wow," you heave once you are able to catch you’re breath.

"Good?"

"Fucking great."

You lay there catching your breath, a satisfied smile still plastered on your face. You reach down and unzip Joel's shorts, pulling his cock free. It's hard and throbbing, almost painfully so, a testament to your performance and his excitement. You wrap your hand around it, marveling at the warmth and hardness of it.

“Darlin, we don’t have to,” Joel starts to protest before you shoot him a look that shuts him up.

“Joel Miller if you aren’t fucking me in the next 30 seconds I’ll have no choice but to report you for causing undue distress.”

He chuckles as you tug him forward by his shirt, “Yes ma’am.”

“I’m on the pill, and clean, so uh,” you know you really shouldn’t be making this offer.

“I’m clean too,” He replies, eyes fixed on your face.

“I’m okay not using a condom if you are,” you can feel your face heat at how terrible of an idea you know it is, and how bad you want it despite that knowledge.

“Fuck darlin’, I’m not gonna complain,” He groans, shivering as you begin to lightly stroke him.

Joel moves between your spread legs and your heart races as he lines himself up. You can feel the warmth of his cock against your entrance, slick with desire and Joel’s spit.

"Are you sure about this?" his voice is low and husky, and he laughs a little at your eager nod. Before you can make a snarky comment you’re gasping as he fills you, your walls stretching around him, accommodating his girth.

“Fuuuck,” you moan, concerned he might actually be splitting you in half. You’ve definitely never taken anyone this big before but you’d be damned if gave Joel the ego boost of knowing that.

“Takin’ it so well for me sweetheart,” he murmurs into your ear, holding still as you adjust to his size.

“Joel, move please,” you mean for it to be a demand but the breathy whine it comes out as has Joel chuckling as he brushes a strand of hair from your face.

He moves slowly at first, each thrust drawing a low moan from you. You paw at his shirt, suddenly deeming the extra layer an offense of the highest order. He chuckles and pulls the shirt off, giving you access to lick and suck across the expanse of his broad chest.

You kiss his chest, your lips leaving a wet trail to his nipple, which you roll between your teeth causing him to shudder. He picks up his pace, his hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him tighter. You wrap your legs around his hips, feeling his cock stretch you even more as he drives into you.

"Joel, fuck," you moan, your voice barely a whisper.

"You enjoyin’ yourself, sweetheart?" he asks between thrusts, his eyes locked on yours, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Before you can come up with a snarky response, he’s found a new angle that’s sending sparks through your body with every thrust. The only response you can manage is a strangled moan.

“Aw, are you a little cock dumb, darlin?” He asks with mock empathy, “Can’t even answer a yes or no question,” He scoffs, but the tender look in his eyes lets you know he’s not being serious.

Serious or not, you can’t understand how he still has the mental bandwidth to be teasing you.

He moves faster now, pounding into you, the sounds of your wetness filling the locker room. Your clit makes contact with coarse hairs above his cock, sending your hurtling towards your climax.

"Fuck, I’m close," you whisper, feeling the familiar growing tension in your core.

“Atta girl, are you gonna come for me sweetheart?” He coos, his gentle tone a complete contrast to his harsh thrusts.

“Joel, please,” you don’t even know what you’re begging for and before you can figure it out, you feel a wave of warmth crash over you as you orgasm, your body trembling as you buck and writhe underneath him.

“It’s okay, you’re okay sweet girl,” Joel holds you firm against the bench as you attempt to squirm away from the now overstimulating thrusts as he continues to fuck you.

Joel's pace quickens, his hips slapping against your skin with each deep thrust. With one hand on your hip, he uses the other to reach down and rub your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your entire being. Your muscles clench around his cock as his own release nears.

"I’m gettin’ close," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "Where do you want it, sweetheart?”

You're breathless, sweat dripping down your skin as Joel thrusts into you, his words sending a fresh wave of arousal through you.

"Inside," you gasp, your eyes locked on his as he comes closer to the edge.

Joel adjusts his grip and with a few powerful thrusts, he slams deep inside of you, and you feel the explosion of his release like a firework going off, the sensation making your eyes roll back in pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Joel," you cry out, your own climax crashing over you again, making your limbs shake uncontrollably and your nails dig into his shoulders.

Eyes closed, he leans his forehead against yours as he continues to hold himself inside you, his cock twitching from his spent orgasm. When he pulls away you collapse into a boneless heap on the bench, and when he eyes your exhausted form you can tell his ego is growing every second you remain motionless.

You know you should get dressed before the cum begins to pool on the bench, or run down your legs, but you find yourself with a lack of motivation. You are quickly realizing your decision had not been a good one, as you now had to drive home with cum soaked panties. From Joel’s raised eyebrows he appeared to be having the same thought.

"You alright there?" Joel's voice carries a teasing lilt as he watches you flop around the bench.

You shoot him a playful glare, pulling your shorts back on. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever enjoyed cardio.”

"I think you have to be moving for it to be cardio, darlin’,” he chuckles, a smirk playing on his lips, “and all I saw you do was lay there and take it."

“I’ll have you know it’s a lot more tiring than it sounds,” you launch his shirt at his head in mock indignation.

He catches the balled-up t-shirt with a laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement, “Whatever you say sweetheart.”

He pulls the shirt on before his expression shifts, his usual playful demeanor softening into something more earnest. As you pull your bra back on and glance back at him, you notice a hint of bashfulness in his eyes.

“Wha-”

“I-”

“You first,” you decide, staring expectantly at the man in front of you who almost appears to be blushing.

“I know this is kinda backwards,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “but, could I take ya to dinner sometime?”

You almost began to laugh at the realization his strange change in demeanor was just because he was scared to ask you out. The man could fuck you within an inch of your life in a public locker room, but asking you on a date was what made him nervous.

You quickly stifle your laugh when you see his face drop at your reaction, “Fuck Joel, of course I want to get dinner with you.”

His expression brightens instantly, a smile spreading across his face. “Really?” he asks, almost sounding incredulous.

“Yeah, really,” you confirm, feeling a warmth spreading in your chest at his genuine enthusiasm.

Joel reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, quickly unlocking it. “Could I get your number?” he asks, holding the phone out to you, “if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Definitely,” you say, taking the phone and typing in your digits before handing it back to him.

“Great,” he says, grinning as he saves your contact. “I’ll text you later then?”

“I’ll be waiting,” you reply, smiling back.

With that settled, the two of you gather your belongings and walk out of the locker room together. You are pretty sure nobody else was in there while you were fucking, but you can’t help but feel that everyone in the gym knows you just fucked this man you had met maybe 30 minutes ago. You look at Joel and he seems completely at ease so you try to channel his confidence as you walk through the gym and out the front doors. You step out into the fresh air and share one last smile with the man before you walk to your respective cars, both looking forward to getting to know each other outside of the confines of Rock Hard Fitness. Really, with a name like that, what other outcome could you have expected?

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you

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feyascorner · 11 months ago

Text

6 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You remember how the sunlight glistened against his skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press the sharp end against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.4k words,,,tav is better than me i would've thrown hands like twelve years ago,,,I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I WROTE THIS IN LIKE TWO DAYS???? also thank you for all your comments they really motivate me to write!! so have this monster of a chapter early as thanks!!

"You'll kill them, Astarion," you mumble. "They might not have had the power to help you, but they're still your siblings. I don't want them to die hating you."

"They're not my siblings--not really. I don't care what they think of me. Hells, they could haunt me even in the afterlife, as annoying as that would be, but they're no innocents either. They've brought in as many souls as I have," he responds, his jaw visibly clenching at the thought. "I don't care if all seven thousand of them die hating me as long as you're here."

And while you feel flattered, you can't disregard the worry driving a hole through your conscience. Ever perceptive, he lifts a hand to brush stray strands of hair out of your face, his fingertips tracing your jaw. His voice is but a hushed whisper.

"You understand, don't you, my love? It would set me free--after two hundred years of forcing myself through hell--I can finally free myself from Cazador," his tone sours at just the mention of his master's name, and he intertwines his fingers with yours, drawing your attention back to him.

"It is what you want for me, no? For me to be happy?"

It is what you want. Just not like this.

Music was your way of releasing the mountain of feelings you kept locked away in your chest, waiting for the right person to recognize them for what they are. You’d hoped someone would understand the meaning behind your lyrics without you telling them outright, and they’d know what it truly meant to you. And for a while, you’d believed Astarion would be the key to this safe.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“While I usually entertain your certainly out-of-the-box plans, this is bordering on just foolish, I’m afraid,” Gale sighs, eyes tracing you as you pace around the house, stuffing every possible weapon and healing potion into a brown sack. Despite his insistence, you ignore him, testing the blade of a knife against the edge of the table. It’s not entirely dull, nor is it sharper than the dagger in your drawer, but it’ll have to do. “Simply charging into the tavern won’t do much good if you’ll be overwhelmed in number anyway.”

“I know what I’m doing, Gale,” you hiss, snatching an Alchemist’s Fire and shoving it a tad too hard into your bag. He tenses. “If they want to talk to me so badly, then I’m not waiting around for them to attack another one of my friends—I’ll go to them.”

“Yes, your determination is certainly praise-worthy, but can we please just sit down and think this through before running into a battlefield with a few knives? This is basically a suicide mission.”

“The wizard is right, even if it’s hard to believe,” Lae’zel announces from the corner of the room, wiping a cloth on her sword. “When I arrived, they’d already fled. They could be anywhere by now, and they’ve had more than enough time to plan another ambush if we were to charge now. We must be smart about this. I am a warrior, but I am no fool.”

“I’ll go by myself,” you say, a sense of finality in your voice. “They already showed what they’d do if someone they didn’t want to talk to approached them. I’ll just talk to them.”

Gale stares with lidded eyes. “So why are you packing so many explosives, exactly?”

“...Precaution?”

Silence befalls the room, and you take it as a sign to finish your preparations. All you can hear is the crackling of the fireplace and the rain falling against the windows of the home. The lot of you had somehow managed to stabilize Shadowheart by the time Lae’zel returned, and while she’d been conscious earlier, you insisted she rest before she consumed herself with the investigation again. You didn’t miss the way she limped back to her room with little to protest against you.

“Take the spawn with you.”

Two jaws drop at the words, the only one remaining fixed belonging to Lae’zel.

“The kainyank is living here to help. Not cause more problems for us. And so far, he’s only done one of the two things, and I’m dangerously close to turning to my blade if he doesn’t choose otherwise,” she says. “The spawn are searching for him, too. If blood breaks out, you must use him to flee safely.”

Gale blinks. “As in…use him as a body shield?”

“What else is he good for?”

While the wizard seems positively appalled, you can see the contemplation flicker in his eyes before he shakes his head. He's always been more considerate than the rest of you. “No, Tav would never agree to such a-”

“Okay.”

They both whip their heads toward you, and you avoid their piercing gazes, staring down at the dull blade in your hand. “It might help, too, if we find out why they want him. There are nearly 3000 spawns in the city—we can’t kill all of them, at least not immediately. It’d be best if we convinced them to leave, and the best way of doing that is to understand what they want in the first place.”

Lae’zel narrows her eyes. “Then you must swear it. Swear that if Astarion were to face risks, you will leave him behind. If he were to turn on you, you slice through his throat without a second of hesitation. He is there to aid you–nothing else.”

“I will,” the words feel hot on your tongue.

And so, you soon find yourself standing in front of his door, hand reaching for the door handle. There’s a slight pause right as you touch the cool metal, but you bite your tongue and shove it open, praying he’s still not as ravenous as he was a few hours ago. And much to your surprise, he appears wholly composed.

He lowers his book to his lap, eyes training themselves on you as they dart from your bag and then back to your face. The window’s wide open, bathing him in the moonlight, with dark curtains tied to the wall to keep them from obscuring his view of the city. He raises a brow. “What could you possibly want from me at two in the morning? Come here for a cuddle?”

You’re scowling again.

“I need you-”

“I’m flattered, but I fear you may stab a butter knife into my eye, so I’ll have to decline.”

“Not like that.” Your frown creases deeper at his smug grin. “We’re going to the Blushing Mermaid to find the spawn.”

“Just us?”

“They want to see us.”

“And if I refuse?”

The answer is almost immediate, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife on bread. “I hear the bloody bedrolls in the Duke’s dungeon are very comfortable.”

He drops his smile at this, and a tiny spark of pride puffs your chest. He seems to weigh his choices before snapping his book shut and standing from the bed, snatching a comb from his bedside table before pacing up to you, pocketing it behind him.

"A comb?"

He shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, I doubt you’ll be giving me a weapon of any sort, so I must make do.”

You don’t correct him.

As the two of you make your way downstairs, you hear your other companions speaking.

“I didn’t expect you of all people to defend Astarion,” Gale says in disbelief, still comprehensive as Lae’zel poorly cuts up slices of an apple.

“I am doing no such thing, istik,” she mutters. “I am giving him a choice. Either to pick up his dead weight and prove his life is worth more than the dirt on my shoes or die at my hand.”

The walk to the Blushing Mermaid is painfully awkward. To you, anyway, because he seems positively unbothered the entire time. Seeing him leisurely follow behind you is irritating—and it bothers you more than you’d like to admit.

By the time you survey the area around the tavern, you’ve discerned they must be inside, considering there are no ambushes awaiting your arrival. While it’s a relief, it also increases the anxiety of what lies inside the tavern itself, and you confirm your knives are at your disposal if it were ever to come to that. You sincerely hope it doesn’t. Astarion sighs dramatically for the umpteenth time as you approach the front doors, and you finally snap to look at him with a glare.

“Will you stop breathing so damn loud?”

The change in your attitude toward him is apparent, but he doesn't seem to care. If anything, he seems more pleased with you than he was before every time you shoot him an annoyed glance or something along those lines. He responds with lazy answers, but it's better than the bitter ones he gave you before.

You're not terribly surprised, though. He's always loved pissing people off for his own entertainment, and it would be an understatement to say that he's been somewhat successful with you.

“I’m not breathing, my dear. I don’t need to, remember?”

“Then what is your problem?” you hiss between your teeth. “Are you trying to wake up the entire city with your insistent groaning?”

“Must we do this tonight, of all days? Couldn’t this wait till tomorrow?”

“No!” you say in exasperation. “That gives them too much time to heal and recover from Shadowheart and Gale. It has to be tonight, just in case they do decide to fight—then we’ll have an easier time because, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s just us two!”

He sighs again, and you swear you might pluck a strand of his hair for good measure. And just as you shove past him and reach for the door, he clears his throat again. Loudly.

“For God’s sake, what?” you nearly yell.

He smiles at you, pointing at the front door. “Well, if we’re looking to avoid an ambush, perhaps we should find another way in than the main entrance. Unless my prior knowledge as a rogue proceeds me.”

You blink. You recognize the validity of his statement and feel your face flare, and you immediately march past him again—the other way this time—and search for the nearest wall you can climb up to the roof. You hear him snicker, but you do your best to ignore it.

Somehow, you manage to climb in through the window, admittedly a lot louder than him, but you don’t think it’s fair to compare yourself to him when he has footsteps lighter than a child’s. Hidden behind one of the tables, you peer into the rest of the tavern, which is completely empty save for the bottles of alcohol scattered everywhere. You turn to signal to him that the coast is clear, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Immediately, your face drains of color.

“Right here, darling.”

He drops down from seemingly thin air, and you gasp, nearly letting out a shriek if it weren’t for your hand covering your mouth. He grins at that.

Bastard.

“There’s nobody in the entire building–at least, not visible to the eye,” he confirms, glancing around the room.

“How do you know that?”

He points at the ceiling, and your eyes follow it. “Someone decided to build such useful beams on the roof. You can see the entire place from up there. Care to take a look?”

While you would have thanked him if he had been any other person, you only march straight by him. “Don’t do anything without telling me first.”

“No ‘thanks, Astarion’?” He quirks a brow but huffs when you ignore him. “Very well then, my liege. No need to acknowledge a humble servant such as I. But I shall let you know when I’m about to take any questionable decision.”

You’re starting to wonder if his presence is worth the headache it gives you.

Pacing around the tavern, it seems all too normal. No blood splatters against the wall, no broken chairs—hells, even the booze cups look clean, which is a rarity for the Blushing Mermaid. You check each room, inspecting down to the last cups in case there are traces of blood in them, but to no avail.

It’s like there was never anyone here.

“You look like you’re having trouble, my dear,” Astarion clicks his tongue mockingly, leaning back in one of the more luxurious chairs he’s decided is his own.

“Considering the only company I decided to bring along is lounging around like a bum, I’m not surprised,” you say back, now searching the smallest cracks in the walls for some sort of secret passage. It’s strange. Even though your companions had spoken of the bodies they encountered when facing the spawn, there’s not a single speck of blood in sight. Neither is there anything outside but the whistle of the wind.

“This particular wall must be quite fascinating.”

You fight the need to groan and whip around to snap at him, but he’s suddenly just a foot away from you, staring at the spot you’d been squinting at. Gods, you hate how quiet he is when he walks.

“As wonderful as it is getting a fresh breath of air,” he feigns disappointment with a half-hearted sigh, turning to walk toward the entrance. “I believe we’ve done what we can. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d love to return to my book–”

The wooden floor underneath him creaks. It sounds hollow.

As if there’s something underneath.

“The basement,” you blink, eyes wide. “The hag’s lair.”

He stares at you as if you’ve taken too many mushrooms. “It was sealed up after we rid of that dreadful woman. Good riddance, too, I mean, I’m not particularly fond of children, but eating them, even I wouldn’t be able–”

You rush toward the very corner of the tavern, sensing that he’s following you regardless of his obvious distaste toward your decision. There, you push against a table perched on top of the basement latch and test its locks.

It’s open.

“Heavens, it reeks here. How didn’t I smell it before?”

“Of what?” You sniff the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Blood, my dear. Fairly recent, too, if my judgment hasn’t gotten rusty in the time I’ve spent cooped up in that room,” he pauses. “And I haven’t gotten rusty, to be clear.”

“Right,” you retort, reaching down to pull the latch open. You don’t see him do the same, and you glance at him quizzically.

“Gods no,” he says, when he realizes why you’re staring. “I’m doing no such thing that ruins these nails.”

You sigh. Loudly.

The latch opens relatively easily, but you make an effort not to simply swing it open in fear the occupants inside might be warned of your arrival. You prop the trap door open against a chair and begin your descent down the stairs, remaining as silent as possible.

The first thing you can notice is that he’d been right.

The stench of blood burns in your nose, and you immediately cover it with your sleeve to avoid inhaling anymore. You’ve smelt enough of your companion’s blood today, and you’d rather not continue the streak with the blood of complete strangers. Astarion, however, frowns.

“Such a waste,” he mumbles.

When you turn to where he’s looking, there’s a pile of bodies—poor victims, no doubt—lying over a puddle of their collective blood mixing with one another. It almost feels inhumane to leave them that way, just hours after their death, as if they’re cattle to be used.

Though, in this case, they are cattle.

“Are you sure it’s them?”

“I’m telling you it is!”

“Where’s their lyre, then?”

“How would I know that?”

You locate the source of the whispers instantly, reaching for one of your daggers as your eyes bore into the corners of the lair that are obscured from your view. Astarion steps forward before you can figure out a plan to approach them, arrogance exuding from his very body as he holds nothing but the comb tucked in his back pocket. “We can hear you, you fools. Come out before I lose my patience.”

“What are you doing?” you hiss.

“They’re only a few spawns, my dear. Nothing like Cazador—no need to be so cautious.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a woman emerges from the shadows, her eyes trained on your own as she marvels at your mere presence. You realize she’s not alone as multiple vampires begin to emerge from different corners of the room, all a safe distance away but not enough to ease the nerves jittering in your stomach. She steps toward you. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

Another spawn steps beside her, and you immediately notice how ravenous he seems, eyes almost glistening with hunger as they bore straight into you. The woman puts a hand on his neck, seemingly soothing him, before he slumps his shoulders again, but the pure violence swirling in his head doesn’t seem to vanish. She then looks to Astarion, and the expression on her face morphs into something more akin to dread. “And you, brother.”

“Dalyria.” Astarion only stares with lidded eyes, visibly unfazed.

You instinctively scan the entire lair, searching for any differences you can spot since the last time you were here. The only glaring thing besides the bodies piled in the corner is the study desk on the other side of the room, scattered with different potions and concoctions. Behind the desk is an entire wall plastered with diagrams—most of which study the anatomy and functionality of what you can only determine to be a vampire judging from the fangs. There are also beds everywhere—though they look like they could collapse any second—and the room almost looks like a hospital.

The atmosphere between the siblings is so uncomfortable you’d think they’ll start attacking one another any second.

“Is Leon here?” you finally cut through, lowering your hand away from your blade. “I need to speak with him—technically, all of you.”

“How curious. We were hoping to speak with you as well,” she says, motioning all the other spawn to stand down. It does little to ease you. “By all means, feel free to go first.”

You take the opportunity, too exhausted, to demonstrate polite etiquette. “The spawn are causing too much trouble in the city, Dalyria. They’re killing too many people, and it’s getting noticed by more than enough people. At this rate, you’ll lose some of your own if the Fist figure out how you guys are hiding throughout the city.”

“...Yes, I’m aware.”

The resignation in her voice makes your throat bob, but you continue anyway. “I’m saying we need to get you guys somewhere more stable. Whether it be the Underdark or elsewhere, we can’t have you staying here.”

“I see,” she says slowly. “I appreciate you trying to talk this out with us, but I’m afraid I cannot grant your request.”

Your shoulders tense, and you can see Astarion shift beside you. “You don’t understand, sister. There’s going to be an outright war at this rate-”

“Baldur’s Gate is our home as well, Astarion. You, of all people, should know this,” she demands. “We have a right to remain here, and if the Fist insists on forcing us out, we have no choice but to retaliate.”

“But you’re killing the city off!” you gawk in disbelief, unable to believe what you’re hearing.

“We’re surviving,” she corrects, the corners of her lips turning downward. “Surely you can’t hate us for that.”

“Then…” you blink at her, positively appalled at her words. “Why the hells did you need to speak with me? What was worth putting my companion through hell?”

“...There is a way—for both parties to benefit.” She looks down at her hands, then back up at you. “I didn’t expect the both of you to come together. Our informants were correct when they claimed to see Astarion in your possession. In all honesty, we technically only needed one of you, but this makes things a lot quicker.”

Confused but desperately wanting an answer, you urge her to continue. Only you can see the way Astarion’s hand slips toward his pocket, where his comb lies.

“We were going to ask you to bring him to us, you see. But it appears you’ve already done the hard part.”

The dreaded intuition in the back of your mind tells you something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

“Me? What do you need me for?” he scowls.

She disregards him and continues speaking to you, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “If you turn him over to us, you’ll never have to see him again. That is what you want, yes?”

Both you and the pale elf freeze.

“I watched as my brother nearly killed you the day of the ritual,” she continues. “I understand how you feel being betrayed by someone you thought shared your pain. And I believe this is a way to relieve you of that pain—and finally move onto a new stage of your life.”

She acts as if Astarion is the only thing holding you from moving on from the past few months of your life. And if she’d said so a week ago, you would have nothing to defend yourself with. But you’ve cut the few strings left that tie yourself to him. You remind yourself that you no longer care for him, regardless of the slight squeeze in your chest. You’ve already sworn to force yourself to disregard him, and you want to say all these things to her, but nothing comes out. So, instead, you keep your mouth sealed.

Astarion scoffs from beside you.

“For God’s sake, please tell me you’re not actually considering this. Let’s just force the madwoman out and go,” his voice attempts to stay firm, but it’s high-pitched at the end. He’s panicking.

You don’t respond to him, and he stiffens. “...My main concern is the city. If you think you can use my personal matters to convince me to just let you keep killing all these people–”

“That matter will resolve itself in its own time. We’ll return to the Underdark—or wherever it is you wish, and you won’t have to spend your nights hunting us down anymore.”

With a dry throat, you fixate your gaze on her face, desperately trying to discern any hint of a crack in her mask. Instead, you find nothing. “Why would you do that? For one spawn?”

“I’m afraid that’s for me and my siblings to know. But I can promise you that no harm will come to you if you take this deal.”

For what seems like the millionth time this month, you have no idea what to do. Lae’zel’s words flood you like a wave crashing onto shore as you remind yourself that Astarion is here not as your ally but as a shield. If things are as Dalyria says, simply turning over the man standing next to you would end this entire ordeal. You could return to your everyday life of repairing the city, learning to heal and grow from the terrors of the illithid invasion. You could learn to let people in again.

You could learn to play music again in hopes of finding the person you dreamed would understand.

Such an enticing, perfect deal. It’s almost too perfect. But you’ve learned not to trust perfection, especially when handed to you by a vampire spawn.

Astarion, who had been observing your expression this whole time, almost seems to read your mind. Or perhaps he’s just feeling selfish, ready to defend himself. “You’ve created a lot of problems for me, dear sister. I’ve gotten accused of your own murders, thanks to your pets.”

The delirious spawn, who’d looked sluggish after Dalyria’s soothing, now bares his teeth at Astarion. Dalyria attempts to calm him again, but it’s no use. The bloodthirst cannot be satiated unless there’s blood spilled on his very hands.

Astarion doesn’t seem to take a hint—or maybe he does but chooses to simply ignore it. “I’ve always known you were strange, Dalyria, but really? Experimenting with your ‘useless procedures’ on fresh spawns? He looks positively possessed, sister. He might just resort to eating you instead.”

“They are not useless, Astarion,” she snaps. “I am a doctor. I’m only curing what needs to be cured.”

“Then tell me why you haven’t managed to cure yourself of our curse? You may be intelligent in medical aspects, but gods above, you are more foolish than Cazador himself if you really think you can cure vampirism.”

“I had nobody to test my ideas on for two centuries, Astarion! Now that I do, surely I can-”

“You’re starving them, Dalyria,” he snaps, tone drastically different from the banter you shared just minutes ago. “And they’ll give into the thirst sooner or later.”

His words are the final straw.

The spawn who’d been standing beside her launches himself toward you. Before you can even register what’s happening, his fangs are at your throat, your neck tilted so it shoots pain up your side. Just as you feel your skin split at the tips of his canines, Astarion rips him away from you so harshly that the spawn flies helplessly into the wall, which crumbles under his weight. Dust flies into your eyes, and you cough, wiping at them until it clears just enough to see Dalyria staring in horror.

“I told you, Dalyria. You are no doctor, not anymore,” Astarion scoffs, eyes narrowed into slits. “And I’m afraid I can’t let you kill my liege here, as I’d much hate to be trapped in a cell somewhere underground.”

You reach the specks of blood drops forming on your neck, horrified by the close encounter you had with death just seconds ago. The culprit of your injury lies unconscious beside the cracked wall, and you wonder just how hard he had to be thrown to be rendered in such a state. You can see the other spawns’ eyes practically glow at the sight of your blood—fresh, unlike the pile of corpses on the other side of the room.

She turns to you, desperation pouring from the wavering of her voice. “Please, don’t make me do this. Don’t make us enemies. All you need to do is give us Astarion. My brother, for heaven's sake!”

You think better of it. Something that obviously pleases Astarion if the way his face relaxes tells you anything.

“May I?” he glances at you.

Surely, there are ways–more civilized ways–-than drawing your blade, but the ferocious growling from the rest of the spawn tells you otherwise. You need to find out why she needs Astarion so badly, and clearly, she’s not willing to tell you unless it’s through pure force. You despise the idea as much as you despise the predicament you’re in, but you refuse to be attacked and deliver nothing back. Just as you nod to his question, another spawn lunges, unable to resist the red staining your neck.

But it’s smart this time, choosing to eliminate any threats before turning to the full course. In this case, the only thing between you and the vampires is another vampire.

“Brother!” Dalyria shouts, horrified.

You don't bother calling his name, only barely manage to tackle Astarion out of the way before the spawn’s claw sinks into the very ground he was standing on just seconds ago.

As embarrassing as it is to practically crash on top of him, both of you wince because it’s more painful than anything. You force yourself up with your arms, and it’s then that you see even more spawn crawling from whatever shadows they hid in, and you realize you are terribly and most definitely outnumbered. By a lot.

“Dalyria, if you’re truly a doctor, do something! Stop them, godsdammit!” you shriek in her direction.

“They’re not—they were doing so well!...” she gasps before she reaches for a tattered journal and desperately files through its pages in a frenzy. “They were nearly docile before. I don’t know why–”

You feel Astarion’s hands slip out of the sack you carry on your back, realizing you hadn’t even noticed him opening it. He’s still lying flat on the ground, and you look down at him, puzzled before he laughs bitterly.

“I’ll be borrowing this for a few minutes, darling.”

You barely dodge another spawn that comes flying at you, rolling off of him and practically slamming into the wall. And before you can crawl away, your knife—in Astarion’s hand—stabs through the spawn’s left eye through the back of their head, specks of their blood splattering against your cheek.

You want to throw up.

“No, don’t harm them! Please, just let us go!” Dalyria pleads, but you’re finished being patient with her. She clearly has no way of calming the spawn, and you’re tired of being thrown around like a ragdoll in the mess that is the lair.

You yank out the Alchemist’s Fire and chuck it at the nearest cluster of spawn—around 2 or 3—and flinch as the vial collides and explodes into flames right before your eyes, blowing your hair out of your face in a gust of smoke and wind. You swear you hear Astarion cackle in utter glee at the destruction, but you choose not to dwell on it, too busy figuring out how else you could get out of here alive.

“You’re ruining the patients!” Dalyria screams, and you almost regret not throwing the vial at her instead.

“Your spawn are the ones attacking us!”

Suddenly, her face goes impossibly pale, and you hear a hiss of pain from a few feet away. Astarion winces as one of the spawn claws at his chest leaves behind a reasonably deep wound following the path of their sharp nails. Your knife is kicked away from him, and you hear Dalyria again just as he reaches for the comb instead. “Brother, be careful!”

You’re not sure if she wants you and Astarion dead or not, but it’s seriously giving you backlash at this point.

He stabs the comb into the spawn’s neck and kicks him away, and you take the opportunity to send the knife he dropped through the air.

By some miracle, it pierces straight through the spawn’s arm. Astarion lets out a breathy laugh from the floor, attention glued to your handiwork. “Ha! And to think that could have been me!”

And while you want to admire your aim yourself, there’s no time. Dalyria’s footsteps rush up the stairs, out of the basement, and you realize you need to follow moments after Astarion, who’s already fleeing up the steps, cursing under his breath. “That demented wench!”

You stand to follow after him, but the remaining spawns are already blocking your way. There are only two more, but you brace yourself for the worst, reaching for whatever remaining weapons you have left in your sack. The smoke and debris feel suffocating in your lungs, but you have no choice but to push through, praying to whatever God you can remember at the moment that this be the last time you have to fight this many vampire spawn. Or any, for that matter.

You wish you had left your fighting days behind you when you defeated the elder brain, but you suppose even that was too much to ask for.

You arrive just in time to see the sunrise.

Lying against a wall is Astarion, who you find just before the sunlight hits the part of the ground he’s on. He’s clutching his shoulder, which drips with his own blood, and showing no signs of the quick vampire regeneration. You stare down at him, face stoic as you wait for him to say something.

Judging from his condition, you assume Dalyria got away.

“Leaving me to die here would be unwise,” he scoffs. “Though it’d be rather easy to let me burn to death in the sun, I must remind you that I much rather prefer decapitation if it’s all the same to you.”

“I’ll consider it,” you reply curtly. "Can't promise anything, though."

He leans his head back, amused. The sunlight is just a few feet away now, and you wonder how long it's been since he's been outside to watch the sunrise. “You’ve always had a cruel streak in you. I just had to lure it out, sometimes, but when it did come out—Gods, you should have seen it yourself.”

“You’re delirious,” you remind him, observing just how much blood he’s losing. You remind yourself of your resentment when worry probes a small part of your heart. One that you hope dies soon. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“I haven’t been exactly feeding well, unfortunately. And days old boar’s blood can only sustain me so long, darling,” he lulls his head forehead, sneering to himself. “Now that I think about it, dying by sunlight sounds rather poetic, don’t you think? Perhaps you can make a song about my glorious death.”

He’s definitely unhinged from blood loss.

You sigh, tossing his arm over your shoulder as you deem the sunlight a bit too close now. It’s a slow process with your own body’s soreness, but you manage to drag him to a more shaded area, propping him against the wall there so that you can rummage through your sack for a healing potion. You stop when his hand latches onto your arm.

“What?” you frown.

“It won’t help. I need blood, my dear.”

“There’s none for you here.”

“The bodies in the basement,” he bites back a groan, more blood gushing out of his shoulder. “I can make use of them--give their deaths a sense of purpose."

The displeasure on your face must be apparent because he laughs.

You pause, lowering the sack onto the ground. While you’re illuminated by the sunlight now, he remains in the shadow of the building, only able to see the sun with how it reflects off of your skin. And you find that he’s no longer looking at you but looking past you into the glowing orb you call the sun. You remember how its light glistened against his own skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press its tip against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

His eyes widen, and the temptation is more than evident with how his mouth falls open as if he tastes your blood from a few inches away. But as fast as it had come, he tears his eyes away. “I’m not taking your blood.”

“Stop with your prideful act, Astarion. You’re going to bleed out.”

“I wouldn’t die, exactly. I would just remain unconscious until I can properly heal myself.”

You spare him a long, hard stare. He refuses to look at you, biting the inside of his cheek to ignore the scent of your blood. And it's painfully clear he's failing.

You have no idea why he's so insistent on avoiding your blood, but you refuse to spend your own time pondering it.

“Fine then.”

He watches in utter loss as you lick the blood off of your finger, shrugging. “Bleed out for all I care.”

You turn to stand, but his hand latches on your arm once more. You’re not sure if you’re imagining how warm he feels, but you think you must be. He's always been terribly cold.

“Do you hate me now?” he asks again, this time staring up at you through his lashes. “Have I finally run through your patience?”

The question remains the same as he asked you a week ago, but it feels different now. This time, you know your answer, and it feels so, so relieving. You just wish you could understand his own feelings, but his expression is so superficial you don’t even attempt it.

“Yes,” you reply blankly. “I hate you.”

He takes a moment to process your words. You have to admit it’s satisfying to say it to his face, even if your hatred for him is new. But perhaps because it’s new is why you feel it so strongly, and you silently thank it for how confident you sound saying the words. Even if they taste bitter. You think he might have some quip to respond with, but he only smiles, and as usual, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You never want to see it again.

Without another word, he pulls you down to him, and you nearly topple over before stabilizing yourself with either of your knees on either side of his legs. He breathes against your neck, and you think he might drink from you until you feel his fingers brush against your nape. Immediately, your body freezes like a deer in headlights, flinching at his touch as your mind involuntarily forces the last memories you have of his hands on your neck.

And ever so perceptive, he notices how you recoil from his touch.

You hate your body for reacting the way it does out of fear. Not the disgust or the anger, but something much more pathetic, and you want to go back on your own actions to stop yourself from appearing so weak to him. You think he might tease you--taunt you, even, but he stops, slowly pulling away and lowering his head from the crook between your shoulder and head.

You’re unable to see his face, but his movements seem more sluggish.

Instead of going for your neck, he lifts your wrist, brushing his lips against it before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh.

Despite the initial sting, it’s a feeling you’ve grown accustomed to over time. With him, it had always felt so intimate. It’s why you can’t help but feel heat bloom across your cheeks before you remind yourself you no longer care for him. Only when you think he’s drinking a bit too long do you try to pull away, but his arm loops around your waist, bringing you even closer as the amount of blood he’s taking increases with how deep his fangs are.

You feel so cold, yet heat burns through your very blood. It makes your head dizzy, and you take it as a sign that he’s had enough.

You only manage to speak a few seconds later, breathless. “Astarion.”

He pulls away, seemingly out of breath himself as he releases his hold on the rest of your body. He runs his tongue over the access, staining the side of his mouth. He uses his finger to make sure the rest is off his face. “I know.”

He rarely feeds so messily, so you discern he wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t been drinking well. Knowing he wasn’t deceiving you brings little relief, but it’s still a welcome feeling. Rubbing at your wrist and the two puncture wounds now residing there, you stand up and slug your sack over your shoulder. He watches you the entire time, and you hate that you can never seem to read his expressions—only one, and that’s whenever he claims to despise your very existence.

His shoulder has already stopped bleeding.

“Why didn’t you drink from those people at Sharess’ Caress?” you finally say.

“Their blood…” he pauses, trailing off, and suddenly he seems to change his mind. “...I've grown tired of it.”

“Blood is just blood, isn’t it?”

He stares at you for a moment, then laughs.

“I wish it was, darling.”

Tags:@ayselluna@littleenglishfangirl@bg3obsessedsideblog@iwillpissyourpants@cyberpr1m3@ukeia-uchiha@snowlotr@road-riot@spacekidnova@madislayyy@lordfishflakes@nicalysm@djarinsway@tinystarfishgalaxy@brainz00@hopeful-n-sad@ohdeerieme@madisban@chrismarium@chonkercatto@fanfic-share@sleepyred1703@miskouly@ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @aelieknox @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @bitterbeanren Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added!

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3 #angst

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 10 months ago

Text

m'starting to get my groove back no emperor so here's a lil valentines day piece i wrote, hope yall enjoy ♡ ! ( a lil bit more love for the hopeless romantic singles like me, ppl in a relationship yall can get that from your s/o's..still love yall tho ♡)

fem reader, katsuki is a nervous lil thing, his friends don't help( they do end up helping him out tho), just pure fluffyness, bksquad boys are sassy towards each other but all in good fun, bkg is a softie, kirimina kinda hinted but eiji shuts it down take it how u wanna, food n takeout mentions,dude talk written by a girl trying her best, kirishima's sheets smell bad lemme know if i missed sum else ♡ !! (no friends to lovers mentioned in this one btw..starting to feel myself goin thru withdrawal already..), not rlly reader oriented like usual but i thought this was cute lol i like the idea of katsuki caring about us so much he goes out his way to ask for help from others (despite hating doing so)teehee (also i like the idea of these silly guys interacting and i like hc-ing them okay okay i'll stop rambling okay-)

the last thing kirishima expected at 9.34 pm was someone basically busting down his door with how hard they were knocking on it.

eijirou opens the door urgently and is even more suprised to see his foul mouthed best friend on the other side of the door.

"woah, bakugou, man !" he exclaims seeing the state his friend was in. his eyes looked droopy and his clothes were wrinkled up like he had done a lot of moving around. usually, he would've assumed his friend had just awoken from a good nap, but his restless expression said otherwise. "what happened to you ? you look—"

" 'm fine." bakugou gruffs hoarsely, taking a deep breath at his friends widened eyes, softening up his demeanor just slightly " i'm good," he rephrased "just—you gonna let me in or what ?"

eijirou sputters out an "of course, of course" only for his friend let himself in before he could even move aside. though he immediately freezes when he sees-

"woah, kacchan's gone nutso ! " denki exclaims, face turning red from laying upside down on kirishima's bean bag for way too long.

"and he's up past 8 ? must be the apocalypse or somethin' " sero chuckles from his place on the floor near the dresser.

bakugou groans has he flops onto eijirou’s bed "of course you losers are here" his complaint is muffled against the pillows, but not muffled enough to where the rest of the boys can't hear.

"hey ! we were here before you ! 'f anythin', you're the one intruding—!" denki gulps, eyebrows furrowed. he quickly spins around to lay right when he feels the blood rushing to his head, taking a deep breath afterwards. sero chuckles and bakugou deadpans at kaminari for a good fourty seconds before slamming his head back down and groans even louder.

kirishima decides he's at a safe enough distance to sit down on his own bed, without making any sudden moves so as not to anger the beast that is an angry, sleepy bakugou. he places a hand near his friends leg, where he deems he's at safe to ask "what's up man ? you're usually in bed by this time.." he hears sero make a noise in agreement.

"yeah, or he's havin' kissy-kissy time with his giiiirrrlffrrieeeend.." kaminari sings, kicking his feet in the air jokingly. bakugou, to everyones suprise, flinches at the mention of you, then slams his head against kirishima's pillow harder and groaning even louder.

all three friends share a curious-somewhat worried look. kirishima nudges his head in bakugou's direction, silently begging his friends to say something. said friends adamantly shake their heads, as if synchronized, making a cross motion with their arms. kirishima sighs to himself, some friends.

yet again, he is the first one to speak up " did..did something happen between you two, didja fight or something ?" he asks carefully, his entire body is strained and the air in the room is so heavy, everybody present ready to get a big portion of the great lord explodo-bomberkill's anger.

only to be met with bakugou turning around to lay on his back eyebrows strained slightly and eyes absent, thinking about something they don't know "what ? course we didn't fuckin fight, idiot." he answers simply.

the three friends all let out an obnoxious sigh of relief, to katsuki's slight confusion.

"hoo, okay." kirishima answered relieved. he knows you and bakugou don't fight very much (which he thinks is super manly) but he knows that when it happens bakugou get's extremely—EXTREMELY—irritable, so it's best to stay away from him while he has his heart broken for a little bit, unless he reaches out by himself, but that only happens when he feels really bad and came to ask for advice on how to get his boyfriend priviledges back. "soo.." eijirou sings "what happened then ?"

bakugou's face hardens and the group stiffens again, preparing for a latent explosion--perhaps the volcano was still dormant and was about to be set off. the three boys hold their breaths.

bakugou takes a deep breath, a sour expression on his face.

3..

bakugou huffs out a sigh.

2...

he opens his mouth to speak and—his cheeks are turning pink ?

"valentine's day's after tomorrow and i don't know what the fuck to get her."

the three boys slump over and kaminari does so so hard his face bangs against the floor. kirishima feels like he's in a sitcom or some gag anime.

" that's it ?" sero chuckles to himself "what ? you're worried for valentine's day ?" sero mocks, gladly taking the opportunity to mess with the blond "that shit's easy man." he cackles, leaning against the dresser more comfortably.

"yeah dude, all you gotta do is get her some chocolates and like—a teddy bear or somethin' girls love that typa stuff !" kaminari piped up, having lifted his head up from the floor. sero nods and bakugou lifts himself up to scoff at them. it feels like it comes from the deepest depth of his very being and kirishima feels a little hurt, despite not being the target of the attack.

"this is why you losers don't have girlfriends yourselves, so i don't wanna hear anythin' from you." kaminari chokes out an "ouch, dude !" " sides, i'm not just gonna settle for that boring ass shit for my girl. no chance in hell." bakugou concludes gruffly.

"yeah, yeah we get it you're the perfect boyfriend" sero quips bitterly, rolling his eyes. " why'd you come here to ask us if, according to you, we get none ?" he questioned raising an eyebrow.

"i came here for shitty hair, not you bastards." the blond spits, rolling his eyes as well before turning to kirishima, who jumps a little at his friends slightly desperate eyes on him.

"woah, i don't have—what makes you think i would be any help ?" the redhead splutters, waving his hands around.

"don't you have something goin' on with alien chick ?"

"what ?! no dude, we're just friends !"

at that, bakugou's eyes widen the slightest bit before he groans for what feels like the 5Oth time tonight, and flops back onto the bed dramatically, turning his head away from his friend " your fuckin' useless too, then." his friend grumbles angrily.

"hey !" kirishima exclaims "mean ! i help you with your girlfriend troubles all the time without having one !"

bakugou turns to face his friend again with narrowed eyes, before exhaling a frustrated sigh and lifting himself up again, eyebrows furrowed. "your sheets smell like ass by the way." he chides, nose scrunched slightly.

"h-hey !" kirishima reiterates " i was gonna wash 'em !"

bakugou gives him an incredulous look, before shaking his head, sighing.

"well look, how about you just get her something you know she likes, isn't that good enough ?" sero offers, shrugging to himself.

"ou ! i saw a guy on tiktok ask his girlfriend out with wingstop, you could like-" kaminari, despite getting lightheaded before has apparently not learned his lesson as he flips around on his back again "—ask her to be your valentines with some fast food chain she likes, and those cute pink heart balloons they sell at the mall, y'know !"

the boys all hum at kaminari's suprisingly helpful idea. kirishima doesn't wanna say it out loud but he really hadn't expected such a cute idea from his electric friend.

"y'know, i was gonna say you were just hungry with the wingstop thing, but that's actually not a bad idea kaminari." sero hums absentmindedly with an impressed expression on his face. kirishima sweatdrops at his lack of tact but isn't really suprised.

"fuck you, man ! you guys never trust me with this stuff." kaminari whines mostly to himself. "yer track record isn't really the best when it comes to scoring girls, is it ?" sero retorts.

kirishima shakes his head seeing his friends start to bicker. he decides to ignore them and turn to his spiky haired friend, who seems deep in thought "well, what about it ? that sound like a good idea ?" he asks.

"s'not half bad.." his friend mutters in response " it's a good start, i guess."i if he notices how kaminari presses a hand to his chest with a heartfelt look on his face, he doesn't comment on it.

"oh, maybe try the take-out and a movie, i'm assuming you're not trynna have a whole celebration, yeah ?" bakugou grunts in response, his nose scrunches as he cringes thinking about the idea. he shakes his head "no, want it to be..about just the two of us, y'know ?" he utters honestly, in a way that sounds way too out of character from him.

a symphony of awwwss resonates around the room and katsuki feels his cheeks heat up hard as he harshly tells his friends to shut up.

" but seriously i'm curious, you guys are already together right ? why would you need to ask her to be your valentine anyway—shouldn’t that be a given ? " sero wonders.

"i don’t fuckin know, my old hag says it’s about the principal or some shit like that." bakugou sighs, flopping back onto the bed and throwing an arm up over his eyes, it seemed like being up so late was affecting him.

"no way dude, you called your mom ?" kaminari asks, jaw practically reaching the floor (or the ceiling..?) in shock. bakugou flushes and splutters as he hears his friends reaction to this apparently shocking news.

“shut up.” he growls “she says it’s important to show i care.. my old man does it an' they're still together right now so he must be doin' something right.

"woah man.." kirishima uttered in awe " you're goin so far to make your girlfriend happy.." he clenches his fist "s-so manly !" bakugou simply grumbles to himself in response.

"honestly..i didn't expect that from you..like at all."

"fuck off !"

"like genuinely, at all. or maybe like, 0.00003 percent cha-"

" i'll fuckin' kill you tape arms !" bakugou barked, small sparks shooting out of his palms as he kneeled at the foot of kirishima's bed in pursuit of the black haired boy. kirishima swiftly swoops in and grabs his friends arm, quickly putting his finger over his mouth

"shhhh, man !" kirishima shushes. " if we're loud, class rep's gonna hear us !" he hisses.

"or worse, mr. aizawa..." kaminari whimpered.

all four boys share a shiver.

afterwards, bakugou sighs, acting as if him almost literally blowing up at his friend a minute ago hadn't happened and gets up to sit on the side of the bed.

"well whatever, i'm satisfied." he says, a little yawn leaving him "my folks gave me some ideas so i'll use those too." his eyes zip around the room and back to the floor, then he closes his eyes and speaks so quietly kirishima barely catches it

"you guys' idea isn't horrible either so i'll keep it in mind..thanks." he utters a quick " 'r whatever." before suddenly getting up and practically sprinting to the door.

it's quiet in the room as everyone sits stunned and kirishima is the first to speak again "o-oh yeah, no problem man, anytime !" he beamed, though still slightly shocked.

"yeah, no problem..!" kaminari can't seemed to decide if he wants to smile or be stunned. his mouth stuck in an awkward half-smile-half- '°O°-' face.

" course." sero raises a thumbs up and a small smile.

bakugou grunts to himself, graces his friends with a simple "night." then pulling the door open quietly, looking around the hallway quickly before swiftly creeping out the room, closing the door behind him. the boys quickly reciprocate the goodnight quietly before he can fully close it. he stutters at the door for a second longer and kirishima knows he heard them then, so he's satisfied.

it's quiet in the room for about 5 seconds after bakugou's left.

"dude, for some reason that made me feel all warm inside..is that just me ?" kaminari hummed, pressing a hand to his chest.

"nope, me too" sero admits, sighing to himself.

"yeah, same here" kirishima says as well, smiling to himself " he really cares about yn, huh ?"

"i can give him that, yeah" sero stretches, getting up so he can jump onto kirishima's bed.

"dude" he lifts his head up "your sheets do smell like ass." sero snickers.

" I- AM-GONNA-WASH-THEM !! "

afterwards valentines day comes around. the boys don't have valentines of their own but when they see you and katsuki hand in hand, with you holding onto those cute pink heart balloons from the mall, wearing a sweater a little too big for you and a valentines day gift bag in your one hand, with bakugou holding onto a bag of take-out and offering them a single side glance and a nod with a half smirk on his lips, they feel extremely proud of themselves. bakugou reminds himself to tell his friends he owes them one.

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softspiderling · 4 months ago

Text

i’ll call you mine

summary:

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I think you’d really like my friend Jaycee.”

Jaycee. Cregan imagined a blonde, not much different from his cousine. The girls in her sorority looked like a dime a dozen. He couldn’t say he was particularly enticed.

“I’m not really looking to date right now, Sar,” Cregan hedged and Sara only groaned.

“Oh come on, Cregan, I really think you should-“

Cregan didn’t really hear the rest of Sara’s words, because Jace walked into the lecture hall, his eyes scanning the seats before stopping on Cregan, giving him a small wave. Cregan lifted his hand to call him over, before shoving his bag off the seat.

“Hey Sara, I gotta go, class is starting.”

OR; Cregan has a crush on this guy in his class, and his cousin wants to set him up with one of her sorority friends. Also, he’s still kind of in the closet. Good times.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x cregan stark, modern au!

warnings: slight ooc, comes with modern aus, imho

word count: 2,1k

author's note: the jacegan/haylor 2.0 brain rot is real. this idea came to me literally this afternoon and i just wrote it down lmfao. hope you like it <3 plss pls pls leave some kind words/reblogs! this is for jacegan nation <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Cregan had always known he was into guys ever since he was younger. Whenever he was hanging out with his friends, they moaned and talked about Rhaenys, the singer of the The Conquerors, and occasionally about about the drummer Visenya. Cregan tried to chime in as much as possible; they were pretty. He was just impartial to Aegon, the lead guitarist. If Cregan ever chose to tell his friends he was into guys, he didn’t think they’d judge him, they had seemed fairly unbothered when one of their teachers had turned out to be gay.

But Cregan had never felt the need to tell anyone he was into his guys; after his first two girlfriends everyone had assumed he was straight and Cregan never corrected them. While he did have an occasional crush at a player from the opposing team or a frequent customer at the coffee shop he used to study at, it was never something he found worth pursuing.

That changed, however when Cregan got into university. Every other guy was insanely hot and made him question if he ever was into girls in the first place. One especially, Jace, from his Gender Politics class, had Cregan sweating every Wednesday morning, with his lean arms, his brown curls and the freckles on his nose.

“Hello? Are you even listening to me?”

Cregan frowned, pressing his phone harder against his ear. His cousin, Sara, had been chatting about her sorority for the past fifteen minutes and he had clinked out about the second time she said “so rad.”

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I think you’d really like my friend Jaycee.”

Jaycee. Cregan imagined a blonde, not much different from his cousine. The girls in her sorority looked like a dime a dozen. He couldn’t say he was particularly enticed.

“I’m not really looking to date right now, Sar,” Cregan hedged and Sara only groaned.

“Oh come on, Cregan, I really think you should-“

“Hey Sara, I gotta go, class is starting,” Cregan said, effectively cutting her off. She only sighed and he could basically see her rolling her eyes at him.

“Fine. But you’re not getting out of this so easily.”

He knew he wasnt.

“Bye Sar,” Cregan said, ending the call just in time to see Jace scoot into his seat. He looked great, as usual. The sunglasses on his head pushed his curls back slightly, his button up open over his white tank top.

“Hey, who were you talking to?”

“Just my cousin,” Cregan said, sliding his phone into his pocket. “You look good.”

“Thanks!” Jace said, beaming at him. “Have you done today’s reading?”

Cregan nodded, pulling a face as he opened his Macbook.

“Yeah and it was awful.”

The lecture passed quickly, just like it always did when Jace was there. Cregan wasn’t sure what it was about the other guy, but they just instantly clicked the first time they talked. It just felt like they were supposed to know each other. When the professor ended the lecture, Cregan and Jace both packed their stuff. Cregan always looked forward to Gender Politics, not necessarily because it was an interesting lecture, but because it was the only class he had with Jace. He hadn’t been bold enough yet to ask him to hang out privately.

“Alright, I’ll see you next week, right?” Jace asked, shouldering his backpack.

Cregan nodded, giving Jace a grin as the brunet turned to leave. To Cregan’s surprise, he stopped, looking back at Cregan.

“Hey, I don’t really know if it’s your thing or not,” Jace started, making Cregan hold his breath. “But there’s a party tonight at Alpha Phi. Do you maybe want to go? With me, that is?”

Surprised, Cregan was stunned for a second before he nodded, an easy grin on his face.

“Yeah, sure. Sounds like it could be fun.”

“Cool,” Jace said, pulling his phone out of his pocket, handing it to Cregan. “Put your number in, I’ll text you the details.”

Gingerly, Cregan typed in his number, making sure it was correct, before handing it back to Jace.

“Cool,” he repeated, his cheeks pink. “Um, I’ll see you tonight then.”

Cregan nodded and Jace saluted at him, turning to leave.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Stark!” he called over his shoulder.

The frat house was packed when Cregan arrived a little after ten later that night. This was a bit out of his comfort zone. While he liked to go out every once and then, frat parties weren’t really his thing. He only went once, during his intro week, and Sara had promptly danced on the tables in her bra. He was mortified.

He had been contemplated asking Sara to come, so he wouldn’t be by himself, but inviting Sara meant questions. Why are you going to a frat party? Who’s Jace? How come you never come to frat parties when I ask you to come?

Cregan really didn’t want to deal with any of those questions. So he sucked it up and went by himself. Squeezing past the people at the front door, Cregan immediately smelt cheap alcohol, sweat and beer. He just hoped he’d find Jace soon. With some difficulty, Cregan shouldered into the living room, looking to find a familiar head of curly hair, when he finally spotted Jace by the backyard door. Though he wasn’t by himself.

A prettt dark skinned girl was pressed into his side as she talked, her blonde hair curling around Jace’s shoulder. Cregan couldn’t help but feel a surge of jealousy. Jace had asked him to go to the party, why was he cozying it up with someone else?

When Cregan saw the girl lean in even closer to whisper in Jace’s ear, making him bowel over in laughter, he couldn’t help but feel a pit of disappointment in his stomach.

He should’ve known.

With a small groan, Cregan rubbed his eye, turning on his heel to leave, bumping into several people, but he ignored their exclaims. Of course a guy like Jace was straight. He had probably asked Cregan to come to be his wingman or whatever. Resigned, he took his phone out, texting his cousin.

Cregan: you can go ahead and set up the date with your friend

sara: omg!!! finally!!! i promise you guys at eso perfect for each other

He felt bad for letting Sara set up the date, but honestly, maybe her friend was cute and could help him get over this crush on Jace.

“If I had known that you were in such a bad mood, I would have set the date for another day.”

It was close to noon the next day, and Cregan was staring daggers into the foam of his coffee. It was just his luck that Sara had managed to set the date right for the next day, and she hadn’t even given him a chance to back out again. He was still in a foul mood. After he had left the party last night, Jace had been texting him a handful of times. He hadn’t really made up an excuse to text him back yet.

Jace: hey, got a beer waiting for you. when are you gonna be here?

Jace: ?

Jace: not cool, dude

Cregan still didn’t know how he was supposed to see Jace in class for the rest of the term. He considered just dropping the class, maybe retaking it some other time. He leaned back in his seat, as Sara checked the time again.

“Your friend’s not really big on punctuality, is she?” Cregan asked and Sara gave him a look.

“Jaycee’s not-“ She broke up, her eyes widening in recognition. “Nevermind. Finally.”

Cregan craned his head to look at the entrance, hoping to get a look at Jaycee before he had to talk to herc but there was no girl to be seen. Only Jace.

Wait.

Cregan nearly choked on his own spit when Jace walk into the cafe, raising his hand to wave at Sara as he approached their table.

“That’s your friend Jaycee?” he hissed, his eyes wide.

“Oh yeah, good thing you’re bringing it up,” Sara said, distracted, as she waved Jace over. “Don’t tell him I’m calling him that, he hates it.”

Jaycee.

Jacey.

Jace.

Holy fuck. He had it all wrong.

“You were setting me up with a guy?” Cregan asked incredulously and Sara only turned her head, giving him a look.

“Cregan, I’ve known you were into guys since like 10th grade, how dense do you think I am?”

Cregan gaped at her and she glanced over to Jace, before she looked back to him.

“Close your mouth and don’t embarrass me in front of him,” she muttered under her breath, before she stood up, raising her voice. “Hey Jace.”

“Hey Sara,” Jace said, giving her a quick hug, pushing his sun glasses up.

“Jace, this is my cousin Cregan,” Sara said, turning back to introduce him. Cregan barely had time to close his mouth, before Jace looked at him, his eyebrow raising.

“Cregan, hey.”

“Hey,” Cregan replied, his cheeks growing hot. Sara glanced between them, her eyes suspicious.

“You guys know each other?“

“We have Gender Politics together.” - “Your cousin stood me up last night.”

“What?” Cregan asked, confused. Jace only looked back at him, like he was daring him to prove him wrong.

“Uh, I think I’ll let you guys talk…” Sara said slowly, giving them one last look before she went left. Cregan glared daggers at his cousin’s back, before he looked at Jace, who seemed to be amused, more than anything else.

“I didn’t stand you up last night,” Cregan started; he didn’t like being called flaky. He would never stand someone up, much less Jace.

“I asked you to go to a party with me and you didn’t show up without even giving me a heads up,” Jace pointed out. “I’d call that standing me up.”

“I was there,” Cregan replied, frowning. “There was this girl all over you when I arrived, I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Jace frowned at him, his lips pursed before it dawned on him. “Oh, you must be talking about Baela.”

Cregan raised his brows at him.

“Baela, my cousin,” Jace clarified and Cregan felt all sorts of embarrassment run down his back.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Cregan leaned back in his seat, dumbfounded. “So you were asking me on a date?”

Jace stared at him. “Was it not obvious?”

“I don’t really tend to go to parties on a first date,” Cregan pointed out and Jace winced.

“Okay, fair enough. But I wasn’t sure if you were into guys or not, and I figured a party was a safe bet in case you weren’t.”

Cregan grunted, seeing the logic in Jace’s plan. “Well, I am into guys,” Cregan said, even if it felt a little weird to say it out loud. Jace lifted his head, a smile growing on his face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cregan replied, pausing. “I’m also into you.”

Jace flushed, nodding, shifting on his feet. “Cool…. Me too.”

They just stared at each other for a few seconds before a loud groan came up behind them.

“For the love of god, just sit down, Jace!”

Sara maneuvered Jace into the booth, pushing him next to Cregan and more or less slammed another coffee in front of them.

“Just to be clear, this was my doing. I accept thanks in cash and venmo.”

“Get out of here, Sara,” Cregan snapped half heartedly as Jace only snickered into his coffee. Sara lovingly flipped him off, flicking her hair to the side before she exited the cafe.

“So Sara is your cousin?”

“Let’s not talk about Sara,” Cregan said, scooting closer to Jace, dipping his head, leaving him enough time to pull away if he wanted. “I’d much rather talk about us.”

“I’d much rather not talk at all,” Jace quipped, before he closed the last distance between their faces, putting his lips on Cregan’s in a soft kiss.

Cregan was fine with not talking for a while.

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author's note: YOOOOO so what are we thinking?

#jacegan #jace x cregan #jacaerys x cregan #jacaerys velaryon x cregan stark #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #cregan stark fanfiction #cregan stark #jacaerys velaryon #jacegan fanfiction #hotd

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