#it’s so unserious and funny I swear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miraclewoozi · 1 year ago

Text

ELECTRIC. - y.jh

your best friend is many things. smart, funny, empathetic, a complete and utter pain in your ass to name but a few. and on the evening of his twenty-eighth birthday, you discover something a little unexpected: jeonghan is very afraid of thunderstorms.

pairing : jeonghan x fem reader. content : f2?. smut. fluff. a bit of angst. comfort. (MINORS DNI) w/c : 6.3k warnings : swearing. jeonghan has astraphobia / a fear of storms (for a brief period, he's a little fragile). intentional lowercase. smut tags utc. PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. notes : happy birthday to this sweetest of sweethearts. i would chew my right arm off if he asked me to. (barely proofread. if you see a typo, no you didn't.<3)

smut tags : pussy drunk jeonghan (my beloved), no real power dynamics but jh is a cocky mf and a bit of a dick, panty sniffing hehe, fingering, oral sex (f rec), reader is turned on by the storm. they're very unserious about it.

the lead actors meet in a kiss. the screen fades to black. so ends yet another round of your annual birthday movie nights.

jeonghan reaches for the remote and silences the end credit theme to the film you’ve just finished watching at the same time as you lift your head up off his shoulder, stretching high above your head and letting out perhaps the loudest yawn (-stroke-moan) of your life. your joints ache from too long spent in one, rather cramped, position, your eyes feel heavy in the late hour. the room falls almost silent around you both, save for the harsh splashing of rain against the windows.

(this really doesn’t help the fact that you’re seconds away from falling asleep.)

“what did you think?” jeonghan asks, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

“not my best pick,” you say, scrunching your nose a little. “not my worst, either.”

your best friend gives a short ‘ha’ of agreement, finally standing up off the couch. “couldn’t have said it better myself.”

he gathers up the takeout boxes currently decorating his coffee table and grabs the now empty drinks glasses with his free hand, grunting softly as he stands fully upright again. you see him trying to roll out a kink in his neck and laugh from where you’re still settled comfortably in the couch cushions.

“you’re going stiff in your old age,” you tease him, grinning brightly. he fires a look at you that simultaneously dares you to keep going down this path, and yet also, tiredly agrees. “remind me to book you a good massage for your birthday next year.”

he grunts something that sounds suspiciously like an instruction to go fuck yourself as he takes his leave from the room, carrying everything that needs to be thrown away or washed up into the kitchen. you busy yourself on your phone while he’s gone, deciding to check in on your weather app. you quite like the rain and you’re really not that worried about driving home in it; you’re just curious how long it’s going to last for.

in the delay of the app opening, a series of bright flashes bounce off every single wall in the living room. when you glance outside, the rain is falling harder than before; barely ten seconds later, a thunderclap roars through the ajar windows and you feel it all the way down into your tummy.

you don’t have a chance to excitedly run across the room to get a look at the storm, though. a loud swear and the sound of crashing glass stings your eardrums before the rumble is even over. instead, you’re bolting through in the same direction jeonghan disappeared off in just moments ago, your heart having taken dangerous residence your stomach.

“what’s wrong?!” you ask as you skid around the corner in your socks, just managing to catch yourself from sliding straight into the wall at the end of the hallway. “i heard a—”

you freeze, then, falling silent. jeonghan is gripping onto the kitchen counter like his life depends on it with both shattered glasses laying at his feet; he looks like he’s seen a ghost, all white-knuckled and clammy and pale-lipped. it’s terrifying.

“hey,” you say, slowly making your way into the room, mindful not to startle him and even more careful not to stand on one of the many shards on the laminate. “what happened? are you okay?”

he nods, weakly. swallows hard. blinks a few times, curls and uncurls his fingers, steps back from the counter.

“yeah,” he breathes eventually, uncertain and still visibly shaken. he wipes his palms on his sweatpants and looks over at you, forcing a smile, but you’ve known him for entirely too long to be sold on this terrible performance. “i, uh-...”

but jeonghan stops short, shaking his head, running out of words to say. for a moment, you think maybe he’s about to apologise; that’s the shape his lips make, anyway. you cut in before he gets the chance.

“it’s okay,” you say, leaning one hip up against the counter. “go sit down, i’ll clear all this up. watch where you stand, though.”

“you don’t have to–” he starts, but you interject before he can even entertain the idea of cleaning the mess himself.

“i know i don’t, but i want to. go. i’ll only be a minute.”

begrudgingly, he agrees; you grab the broom from his kitchen cupboard and start slowly sweeping the broken glass into a dustpan while he carefully steps on the safe parts of the floor and makes his way back through to the living room. you make reasonably quick work of everything, emptying the fragments into the bin on top of the takeout boxes – all that’s left by the time you’re finished a couple of minutes later, is to try and figure out what caused all this in the first place.

jeonghan isn’t an easily shaken individual; you know this from years of experience. he seems to be able to catch you every time, without fail: whether he’s just popping out at you from behind a door and making you yelp, or he’s near-on giving you heart failure by texting you that something terrible has happened and that you need to come over, immediately, only for said ‘terrible’ thing to be that he got really comfy on the couch without making any popcorn. but regardless of all the numerous ways he manages to terrorise you, you’ve never, ever managed to do the same back to him.

he’s always shrugged off your attempts, bragging that he just isn’t afraid of anything. so… you’re not really any closer to finding an answer at the time of going back through to the living room with your backpack slung over one shoulder.

“you wanna tell me what happened in there?” you ask, sitting down next to him on the couch. you’re sure his posture is supposed to be an attempt to convince you that he’s absolutely fine, now, but jeonghan looks stiff and is outright refusing to meet your eyes, despite your best attempts. again, unfortunately, you aren’t so easily fooled.

“i just came over dizzy,” he lies, doing his best to play it down. “maybe i stood up too fast and had a delayed reaction, i don’t know.”

“i’ve known corpses get up faster than you did, hannie,” you deadpan, laying one hand by his knee. “come on. that’s crap.”

he doesn’t quite jerk away from you, but you do feel his thigh muscles tense under your touch. you slide your palm down onto the couch between you instead in an effort to make him a tiny bit more comfortable.

“it’s nothing,” he tries. “really. it’s–”

“jeonghan–”

“y/n.”

the room around you falls silent, both of your stubborn personalities at a stalemate. he won’t talk, and you won’t let him stay quiet. it’s been this way for years. since you were teenagers, even. you’d think he would have learned by now. (he hopes that you might have, too.)

but, there is a fact at play that makes you stop staring him down, and you relax your shoulders slightly as you sit forwards.

“i’m only letting this go because it’s your birthday,” you sigh, clasping your hands together. “if it was any other day of the week–”

“yeah, yeah. trust me. i know.”

there’s an edge to his voice that almost sounds like your jeonghan. like the teasing menace you know and adore. almost. it’s missing something. missing his usual spark.

“i swear to god, though, if i find out you’re sick and you’re not telling me,” you mutter under your breath. not quite under your breath enough, mind – he hears you perfectly, and you can see, out of the corner of his eye as you start to rummage through your backpack for your car keys, the way his ears prick up.

“don’t be stupid, i’m not sick,” he says. the truth in these words, specifically, is evident in the weight of his voice, in the way his fingers brush against the small of your back. “i swear.”

“pinky swear?” you ask, turning to look at him over one shoulder.

he holds out his little finger on his right hand for you, both eyebrows raised in a silent challenge. you pinch your lips tight before hooking your own pinky through his, leaning in and pressing a short kiss to the pad of your thumb. the way you used to when you were kids. ‘you really can’t break those.’ he used to say. ‘they’re like, triple the strength’. saved for really important promises. when he does the same, you know you can believe him.

“okay,” you concede, going back to your search. “in that case – i think i’m gonna head on home before the roads get flooded.” you had to learn the hard way that the drains in this part of town aren’t known for their ability to handle much more than a middling rainfall.

somehow – always, somehow – buried at the very bottom of your backpack, you manage to find your keys and your hand curls around them as soon as you feel one of the rough edges against your fingertips. it’s barely been three seconds since your announcement, but jeonghan has managed to shuffle right into your personal bubble anyway and is now sitting with one arm pressed fully against your own.

“i don’t know if it’s safe to drive when it’s like this,” he says quietly. “it seems dangerous.”

“i think i’ll be okay if i leave, like, soon,” you try to reassure him.

“you think,” he repeats, narrowing his eyes at you.

“i’ve driven in so much worse, believe me,” you say. “don’t worry, i’ll be careful.”

“why don’t you just stay the night?” he offers. “you’re not working tomorrow, are you?”

“i’m not,” you confirm, and you do genuinely consider the offer for a moment before deciding to decline. “but i need a shower, and–”

jeonghan interrupts you, a little too quickly. “you can use my shower, i’ve got spare towels. i’ll sleep on the couch. don’t drive in this.”

“hannie, stop worrying,” you laugh, starting towards the door. “i promise, i’ll go slow and i’ll text you the second i’m home.”

“y/n,” he sighs, stepping towards you, jaw tense. “please. just this once.”

you swallow, looking all over his face, trying to figure out what train of thought the cogs behind his eyes are turning in tune with, why he’s so stressed about this. you’ve never known him behave like this sober. (you’ve only ever known him to be like this once, at all, and he tried to kiss you, then, so–)

“i really…” you start, only to be interrupted by another brilliant white flash. your eyes dart to the window just in time to see the lightning bolt through the clouds, and you feel your face noticeably soften in wonder. barely four seconds later – it’s getting closer – the loudest thunder clap you think you’ve heard in your life drowns out every thought you’ve ever had.

every thought, except the sudden pressure of jeonghan’s fist around your forearm. every thought, except the stuttered gasp he lets slip. every thought, except the sudden fear in his too-wide-eyes.

oh, you think, realisation dawning on you as the blunt press of his nails grows just a fraction softer in time with the end of the rumble. that’s…

“it’s okay,” you say softly, taking a step closer to jeonghan and opening your arms for him to step into. “it’s okay. i’m here.”

he falls against you like an unsteady house of cards, his arms tight around your back and his head buried into the place in your shoulder where it fits the best. you’ve never seen him like this, and you’re not really sure what to do with yourself; he’s always been the sturdy one, between the two of you. he’s always been your rock. there’s a little bit of an irony in how he’s always been the one to help you weather the storm, but with the shoe on the other foot…

“how can i help you?” you ask, trailing your fingers up and down his back, not really sure that he can feel you through the thick material of his sweatshirt but you’re trying your best, anyway.

he squeezes you tighter, buries his head further down into your shoulder, takes a few shaky breaths in through his mouth and screws his eyes shut a little more before he makes his request.

“please stay with me.”

if your heart wasn’t aching for him before, it most certainly is now. you nod to the room at large, hoping jeonghan can feel the movement even a little. you don’t loosen your hold around him, though: you let your best friend cling to you for as long as his muscles will allow before they start to ache and he has to step away.

“come with me,” you say once he’s finished running his fingers through his hair, trying to set it back to rights. “it’s okay.” you hold one of your hands out to him and he takes it, albeit apprehensively; giving his palm a squeeze with your own, you guide him through the apartment towards his bedroom.

“what are you–?” he asks, and despite his earlier hesitance to hold onto your hand, he doesn’t want to let go of you now you’ve reached your destination. he just stands next to you, fingers threaded through yours, looking at your face with tired eyes and a lifted brow.

“grab your bedsheets,” you tell him, shaking your hand free. “and your pillows. we’re gonna make a fort.”

“a what?”

“a blanket fort,” you say. “to hide from the storm.”

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, and for a brief second, you think maybe the idea has offended him. his face hasn’t lifted into the smile you sort of expected it to; instead, he’s just staring down at his bed as if he’s trying to will himself out of existence.

“we don’t have to do all that,” he says. “it’s… that’s way too much?”

“it’s your birthday,” you counter. “and i want to make you a birthday fort. like we used to, when we were kids. it’ll be fun!”

he gives a little sigh, but it’s not one of sadness or exasperation with you. it’s defeat. except, you think if you could taste it, you’d be able to pick up a tiny lacing of sweetness in his exhale.

“fine. you’re building it, though.”

you think it’s safe to say that perhaps, you’re a bit out of practice. you distinctly remember this being much easier when you were young: throwing bedsheets and blankets over the couch and propping them up with chairs or broomsticks. the forts that you would make as a child were, truly, a sight to behold: you used fairy-lights to decorate one, once, and it still remains one of your most prideful projects to date. the slight catastrophe that sits in jeonghan’s living room by the time you’ve finished laying out the last few pillows is… more a cave, in your opinion, and not a very pretty one, but you emerge from it smiling anyway and jeonghan looks at you so fondly that no matter how rubbish it is, it’s worth the half an hour you spent putting it together.

“what do you think?” you ask, sitting back on your heels.

“it’s not your best,” jeonghan teases as he walks towards your monstrosity masterpiece, critically eyeing the ‘roof’ that would definitely fail any kind of health and safety audit. “but it’s not your worst, either.”

a bright smile lights up your face as he drops down to his knees and crawls inside the space alongside you, letting the ‘door’ (a particularly thick blanket) fall down behind him. one of the (many, many, many, many, many) problems you encountered was trying to make one of these to fit two grown adults, but with him tucked away inside with you and a few flashlights to prevent you from being plunged into darkness… ignoring the potential for it all to come collapsing in on you at any given time, it’s surprisingly comfortable.

you lay back against the pillows first and jeonghan follows soon after, a weirdly gleeful smile playing at his lips as he does. he curls into your side and you talk, and talk, and talk. about everything. about nothing. it doesn’t really matter.

you’re not quite sure why, but the deep roars of the storm outside don’t seem to bother jeonghan quite as much in here. maybe it’s because he’s not alone, and there’s no imminent threat for him to be: maybe your company really is making a difference. he still reaches for you every time there’s a particularly loud clap, still closes his eyes and takes a series of deep breaths until his stress passes, but for whatever reason, he feels significantly less tense.

and when, after the third boom, he decides just… not to let go of your hand? who are you to try and force him?

there’s… just one problem, though. you’re ecstatic that the storm isn’t bothering jeonghan as much, now. that he can talk absolute nonsense to you in your private little hideaway, that he can lean his head against your shoulder and chuckle at your bad jokes and even crack a few of his own. genuinely, you could not be happier. for him.

but there was more reason than wanting to sleep in your own bed that had you desperately trying to get home before you realised the gravity of your best friend’s situation.

with every new growl of thunder outside, something low in your stomach twists, accompanied by an ache, a warmth, a throbbing between your thighs. at first, it was easy enough to battle through. you kept telling yourself that the thunder never lasts too long, that you could get through this without jeonghan being any the wiser, that everything was going to be fine. but now, almost an hour later, the buzz of electricity in the atmosphere and the entirely-too-addicting scent of your best friend’s fabric softener has you feeling hot enough you could faint.

you twist and shuffle over and over, hoping to find a position that eases the throbbing. it’s fine, you think, taking a deep breath and praying to every deity you can recall by name that jeonghan doesn’t notice your discomfort. i can do this. it’s fine. just a little while longer.

a spectacular boom sounds through the apartment and jeonghan’s fingers tighten around yours so much that, against all your better judgement, you let out a loud gasp. not out of pain, though – no, you wish. if only it was that easy. ha. no – as he squeezes your hand, images flash through your mind of him being the one to relieve you of the tension building up beneath your skin. of him gripping and grasping and tugging, thrusting, tasting, adoring. your throat runs dry and you squeeze your thighs together desperately, pinching your lips tight, willing your pounding heart to calm the fuck down. willing your cunt to stop drooling into your panties.

“fuck,” you breathe when he finally lets go. you feel him shuffle at your side and prop himself up on one elbow, looking down at your face with mild terror written into the lines of his own.

“i’m so sorry – did that hurt?” he asks, searching your eyes for any kind of clue. you wish he wouldn’t. surely, you think, pressing your tongue harshly against the roof of your mouth, surely my pupils are blown to oblivion, right now.

you shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“are you sure?” he asks, slowly running his fingers down your arm, moving to take hold of your hand again if you’ll let him. you flinch, the drag of his nails akin to an electric shock – like being struck by lightning, you tell yourself – and he snaps his hand back straight away. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you hurry, pushing yourself up to sit (almost head-butting him in the process) and groaning at the way the seam on your jeans rubs against your clit. who wears fucking jeans to a movie night? what absolute moron–

“do you feel okay?” jeonghan questions, sitting fully upright now too. “do you think it was the foo–”

“oh my god, please,” you whimper, bowing your head, letting your hair fall around your face, shielding you from him. just a little. not quite enough. “please. i’m fine. stop asking. i’m fine.”

“said everyone, ever, who was in fact – not fine,” jeonghan quips. “do you need water? i can help, just talk to me–”

“jeonghan,” you snap, whipping your head back up. your face feels hot and you don’t know if you’ve ever felt this tense before in all your years on this earth. all your muscles are tweaking in anticipation for something that most certainly is not going to happen, and you really need him to stop talking in that deep, smooth, caring voice. with immediate effect. for the love of god –

…and heaven above, the penny drops.

jeonghan’s concerned expression turns to one of complete shock and you cover your face with both hands, trying so desperately hard not to be perceived by him in this most humiliating of moments. he doesn’t say anything for a second, and you tell yourself that he’s probably trying to find either a terrible joke to ease the tension or a way to tell you to go home. you don’t know which would be worse, but it’s only a matter of time until you find out.

therefore, you definitely don’t expect him to pry your hands away from your cheeks, and for his shit-eating, impishly charming, handsome-as-fuck grin to be the first thing your eyes land on when you open them.

“really? thunderstorms?” he asks, close enough that you feel the breaths that his words don’t quite steal. “that’s your kink?”

“it’s not a kink,” you whine, throwing your hands down either side of you. he doesn’t release his hold on your wrist, though. “come on, don’t be–”

“of all the things you could be into,” he says. oh, he’s back. he’s back with a vengeance. you suppose, really, you should be glad that he’s feeling more like his usual self, but the fact that it’s at your expense? that there’s no-one else around for him to turn on instead? that this is your topic of conversation at ten past midnight on his living room floor?

“hannie, please,” you huff, lips drawing downwards into a frowning pout. the ache isn’t going away. why isn’t it going away? why is this cocky, smirking version of your best friend making you feel even hotter under the collar? what’s going on? “don’t you think i’ve suffered enough?”

“not even nearly,” he says, sitting up on his knees, resting his palms on his thighs. “since when? how did you even fig–”

boom.

and his jaw falls slack, watching you squirm.

you’re quite literally fighting for your life. or, at minimum, for your friendship. because, really, you could jump jeonghan’s bones right now and you don’t actually think he’d turn you down (something to be filed under: thoughts that are not making this any easier). but that’s not what you’re trying to do; you’re trying to help him feel better, and take his mind off his fear, and when he pulls his bottom lip between his bottom teeth before speaking –

“okay, wait. hear me out.”

to both of your surprises, you do. you don’t try and protest, which he was sort of expecting you to do. you don’t tell him to shut up, you don’t try and get away from him. you sit there, eyes wide, hands curling into the blankets beneath your slowly numbing ass, and you wait for him to continue.

“i can help you.”

your heart shoots up into your throat and you struggle to swallow around it. your breaths are heavy, laboured, your lips parted and a little swollen from how you’ve been biting at them for the past hour and a bit.

“you don’t have to–”

“shut up, y/n,” he says dismissively, crawling in front of you and lifting your hands away from the bedding you’re kneading (pathetically, in his professional opinion) like a cat. “listen. you’ve helped me so much tonight, you don’t even know. let me return the favour.”

“hannie…”

“hannie,” he whines, in a poor imitation of your voice. “hannie, i only helped you because you needed me– is that it? look at you, y/n. you’re a mess.”

if this were anyone else, you’d be livid. not only at the way he so effortlessly makes fun of you, but at the fact that he accurately finished your sentence without having anything more than an affectionate nickname to work from as a hint. you don’t know what to say, suddenly stunned into silence, but it’s all right. you don’t need to say anything; he keeps going.

“you need me. let me help you – look. it’s my birthday.”

he wants this, you think to yourself, growing slightly concerned by the way your heart continues to hammer in your throat. he wants… me.

you give one slow, but definite, nod of your head and jeonghan’s grin grows from cocky to genuine. he crawls until he’s right up in your space, lifting a hand to your cheek, and you forget how to breathe for a moment as he looks you in the eyes with more heat than the mid-august sun.

“lie down,” he says, pushing that last little bit closer and capturing your lips in a kiss. it’s short, but mind-boggling. your brain goes totally blank when he pulls away. “it’s okay. i’ve got you.”

but you do as he says and shuffle around the little fort so you’re on your back, head resting against one of the many pillows you’re grateful you brought in here with you. he crawls on top of you, then, caging you in with one hand either side of your head, settling with one of his knees slotted between your just-parted thighs.

“okay?” he asks, searching your face for any signs of discomfort or worry. he doesn’t find any, though – he’s met only with a perhaps too enthusiastic nod and your hands playing at the hem of his sweatshirt. he chuckles, bending down to kiss you again, a little deeper this time, a little longer. open-mouthed and hot, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, dropping onto one elbow so his torso lies almost flush against yours.

“easy, tiger. taking care of you, right now.”

you sigh as his lips start to descend down the column of your throat, and you press your shoulders back into the blankets to try and push that little bit closer to him. one of his hands slips beneath your own shirt and his palm comes to rest flush against your hip, dragging his thumb in small circles over your skin.

“this,” he mumbles into your collarbone, tugging the neckline of the garment between his teeth for a moment so you know what he’s referring to. “off.”

“bossy,” you mumble, your body cold all of a sudden as he sits back away from you and you tug your t-shirt off over your head. as you do, he reaches behind his neck and tugs off his sweatshirt as well before he tosses it up near your head, out of the way.

now, this is certainly not the first time you’ve ever been around jeonghan without anything covering his top half, but it is something that you rarely get the chance to see. if it’s not the fact that he’s chronically freezing cold, it’s because he’s grown emotionally attached to some of the baggiest tops known to mankind, or he’s worried about getting a sunburn so is still covered up at the beach. for one reason or another, this just isn’t something you’re blessed to see very often, and he looks so good you almost forget that it’s him.

of course, that only lasts until he says something really fucking dumb. in other words, all of about three seconds.

“how… practical,” he says, eyes trained down on the bra covering your tits. in a way, it’s probably a good thing you’ve snapped back to your senses, because you once again find yourself thinking that if this were anyone else, you’d have told them to get off you and never call you again.

but why is jeonghan, of all people, criticising your choice of comfy underwear… weirdly endearing?

“sorry,” you grunt, making no effort to hide the (flesh-toned, full-coverage, entirely too old) bra that he’s looking at like it’s personally offending him. “didn’t expect to need to impress, tonight.”

“don’t be sorry,” jeonghan says, shaking his head as he unpops the button on your jeans and tugs them down over your hips. “just… do better next time, yeah?”

you laugh so suddenly, so abruptly, so loudly that you choke on your own spit and end up coughing a little, propping up on one elbow to try and relieve the burn in your lungs as he continues to work your pants off your legs. by the time he scrunches them into a ball and puts them to the side, too, you’ve managed to catch your breath, and gasp out, “next time?”

“next time,” he nods, making himself comfortable between your thighs. he lays one palm on the inside of each knee, pushing them as far apart as your hips will allow, before he brings one hand over your covered cunt and drags his thumb up and down your slit.

you don’t even get a chance to ask why he’s so sure there’ll be a next time. he skillfully works you through the material and in seconds, has you tipping your head back into the pillows, moaning at the overwhelming feeling of finally being touched.

“so fucking wet,” he sighs, feeling your arousal through the cotton of your underwear, pressing the material between your folds. his thumb circles your clit over and over, the pressure just right – not so light that he’s teasing, not so hard that you’re squirming away from him. hell, if you knew he was this good, you’d have dragged him into bed years ago.

“come on, hannie,” you gulp as he starts to work his thumb faster, starts to massage at your inner thigh with his other hand. “need more…”

well, he doesn’t need to be told twice. you lift your hips and he tugs your panties down your thighs, unhooking them from around your ankles. you expect him to, you know, return to business, but he does something just a little bit unhinged first and brings your soaked underwear up to his face. you hear how deeply, how loudly he inhales, the subsequent groan he gives even louder, and you swear the reason you end up bumping his hip with your knee is to bring him back to earth, because it actually feels like he’s forgotten you’re lying right there.

“i’ll do it myself, in a minute,” you threaten, and jeonghan grins wickedly down at you as he lowers your panties down to join the rest of your discarded clothes.

“no you won’t,” he tells you – he tells you? – , finally now lying down between your legs, just inches away from your glistening cunt. “god – as if i’d ever let that happen.”

“i swear– ” you start, half a second before one of his fingers presses against your hole. you stop talking with a gasp, a hand flying to your chest and squeezing against your tit. just like that. in a heartbeat, you’re done for.

he seems intent on gathering as much of your arousal on his fingertip as he possibly can, running it through your folds, pressing it inside you, smearing your slick all over and then some like a fucked-up painting. only once he’s satisfied does he finally start to work his finger in and out, pressing his lips just above where your clit is begging for his attention.

“don’t play stupid,” you chide him when he looks up at you through his lashes, eyes wide and feigning innocence. “if you can find it through my underwear, you can find it now.”

“bossy,” jeonghan tuts. “what’s with the rush, huh?”

and he adds another finger to the first, both long and elegant and reaching spots inside you that your own physically can’t. you keen against your will, hips reacting of their own accord, trying to fuck your pussy down against his hand. he makes no effort to stop you.

“m’not gonna beg,” you tell him. “just – fuck, get your mouth on me. now.”

to his credit, he does.

and more to his credit, being eaten out has never, ever felt this good.

the hand not grasping at your chest shoots down to tangle in his long, silky hair, and jeonghan moans loudly against your pussy as he laves his tongue everywhere he can. over your clit, between your folds, slipping it inside your hole in place of his fingers – he’s relentless, slurping and groaning and finding some sort of insane stamina from somewhere deep in his soul. you swear to god, this is not the man who sometimes falls asleep with his light on because he doesn’t have the energy to get up and turn them off.

within a matter of minutes, you can feel the coil in the pit of your stomach growing tighter and tighter, your walls fluttering around his fingers, your moans and whines only getting louder by the minute. your legs are shaking. your thoughts are little more than static, and him. at some point – you don’t know when –, jeonghan reached around your hips to pull your thighs together and clamped them around his ears, mumbling against your clit something to the effect of to help with the thunder. (you don’t mention that there hasn’t actually been another thunder crack since he started making out with your pussy. it doesn’t feel relevant, somehow.)

every time you tighten your thighs, every time you squirm, he hugs you tighter against his cheeks and you just end up humping against his tongue. something tells you maybe that was the plan all along?

sparks of energy start to prickle all over your skin as you teeter on the edge of your high. your fist tightens in jeonghan’s hair, your breaths become fewer and further between. it’s frankly a bit of a miracle you’ve even managed to last this long – you held back as long as you could, determined to milk as much of the pleasure his hands and his mouth so skillfully bring as you can. just in case there’s no next time, but… hell, do you hope there is.

“hannie, i’m–” you gasp, his fingers curling upwards again and resuming their earlier assault on your g-spot. “fuck, hannie, i’m so close–”

“mm, have been for a while, huh?” he asks, drawing his mouth away from you, licking his tongue over his arousal-slickened lips. “you’ve been holding out on me.”

“yeah, but-... i wanna come so bad,” you swallow. jeonghan flicks his tongue out over your clit again and you jolt up into the touch. “please, don’t stop.”

“won’t,” he promises. and it’s the last thing he says before his lips meet your pussy again and he brings you over the edge into the most electrifying of climaxes.

by the time you’ve stopped twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm, jeonghan is sat up on his knees again, softly massaging at your hips with his thumbs. your vision is still kind of fuzzy at the edges when you glance up at him, and for a moment, with a hazy outline and an amber glow behind him owed to the flashlight you set at the entrance to the fort, you think he looks a little too much like an angel.

“where the hell did that come from?” you ask him, fighting against the squirming in your belly. fighting against the sensation that feels a little too much like butterflies.

“really?” he asks in a breathy laugh. “that’s-... i mean, do you actually want to know, or…?”

you mull this over for a moment before crossing your arms over your eyes and concealing yourself from his view, shaking your head. one part of you is morbidly curious as to how he got so good at giving head. the other part of you is too busy trying to gather the brain cells he just sent flying across about eight different dimensions.

“i think you’ve broken me, jeonghan,” you breathe, feeling more than seeing him lie down next to you again. his lips press sweetly against the curve of your shoulder. warmth radiates from that one spot, all over your body. you smile, like a complete loser.

what’s worse is that you really don’t mind.

“is that a yes, then?” he asks, slinging an arm over your waist. you turn your head to look at him, eyes crossing a little with how unexpectedly close he is.

“yes to what?”

“to next time,” he says. his grin matches yours and you nod your head at him, yes. in your peripheral vision, you notice how he lifts one hand, extends his little finger. straight in front of you, you see both of his eyebrows raise.

you pinch your lips tight before hooking your own pinky through his, leaning in and pressing a short kiss to the pad of your thumb. the way you used to when you were kids. ‘you really can’t break those.’ he used to say. ‘they’re like, triple the strength’.

saved for really important promises.

“to next time.”

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

#jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut #jeonghan x reader #j writes.#*#ft. the lowest effort banner of all time <3

1K notes · View notes

cottoncandyswisherz · 6 months ago

Text

hood fav

softdom!chris x fwb!reader (described as poc) warnings: CHEATING BITCH, shower sex, choking if you squint and tilt your head to the left, riding, missionary, swearing, a lil overstimulation

- chris was mad.

no. he was heated.

no. he pissed the FUCK off.

his fans always ask why he doesn't want a girlfriend? why does he have commitment issues?

this is exactly why. he'd been talking to this gir- this BITCH for like 3 months and he goes to surprise her after being gone on tour months and this is what he fucking gets.

*30 MINS AGO*

chris' heart was pounding in his chest due to anticipation. he'd been gone so long and she was the first person she wanted to see when he came back.

he had a goofy smile on his face and a bouquet of peonies (her favorite flower) behind his back. his smile only grew when he heard the door being unlocked.

"SURPRI-" his face dropped when he saw some fucking idiot standing shirtless in his girls doorway. "what the fuck?"

"baby who's at the do- oh fuck." she came to the door in wearing nothing but a tee-shirt.

"baby?" chris was dumb founded. "you- you're- BABY?!"

"chris i can explain this- can you come back later so we can talk?"

this made chris laugh as he pulled out his phone to call matt back. "yeah no. ya'll have fun though." and with that began to walk away and down the street.

*BACK TO NOWADAYS*

when matt pulled up next to him on a random street, he came with a pre-roll and a pepsi. "fuck her, bro."

lighting his j, chris smiled and said, "yeah im not tripping."

"good. you're fucking great, and shes a bum." matt pat his brothers shoulder and pulled off the curve. "we going home or do you just wanna drive around?"

chris inhaled again and ashed his joint, setting it down to text the person he really needed to see. "bro can you take me y/n's? i needa talk to her."

"yeah i got you." matt chuckled and headed to their friends house.

to matt, y/n was a close friend that he and his brothers loved. she was funny and chill as fuck to be around. never had a bad vibe, always smiling. she called herself a hood fav.

but to chris, y/n was a god. she was fucking gorgeous and had a smart ass mouth, that he put to good use. they fucked when neither of them were seeing anyone, and it never complicated their friendship.

chris didn't want a girlfriend, and y/n thought chris was the most unserious person on the planet.

and that's how they liked it. they gave each other the best orgasms known to man, then watched a movie and vibed the rest of the day.

nothing more. nothing less.

arriving at his friends house, chris hopped out of the kia truck and called her to open the door.

"hello?" y/n answered. chris noticed noise behind her but he couldn't make it out.

"yo im outside, come open the door."

"first of all, don't be fucking rude, say hi back." the girl retorted, her voiced laced with sass.

"my fault bruh." he rolled his eyes. "hi y/n. now can you open the door?"

"im in the shower, use the key under the turtle." she laughed and hung up.

shower?? chris thought. perfect.

he made quick work of opening the door and making his way up the stairs and into the bathroom, where he was met with steam and loud music.

she was playing her favorite rapper, heembeezy. (free my nigga fr)

"bro why are you here? didn't you get to LA two hours ago?" y/n yelled from the shower.

"i went to see her and a fucking dude answered her door with no clothes on." he responded, sitting on the toilet to take off his shoes.

y/n swung the curtain open with a gobsmacked look on her face. "AIN'T NO FUCKING WAY! SAY ON GOD RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!"

"on god bruh." he sighed, removing his shirt. "then she said she can explain and to come back later."

y/n laughed at this and went back to her shower. "she's a fucking bum bro. fuck her."

"that's what matt said." his bottoms came off next.

"that's why matts my favorite. he just like me for real."

chris opened the shower door and looked at her body that can only be described as glorious. "yeah so now im cool on relationships for now."

y/n made room for him in her small shower and giggled. " you back on your p shit?"

"yup." he gave a cheeky grin and pulled her to him. "now come here."

he pulled her into him so her wet body was flush on his. his hands found their way to her ass and grabbed a handful and rejoiced in the fact that it wouldn't all fit in his hand. his dick hardened against her soft belly as her hands ran up his back and into his hair, gripping it tightly.

he went to pull her shower cap off, but she quickly stopped him "i just got my hair done bro."

he yanked it off anyway. "i'll pay for you to get it done again tomorrow."

her nipples peaked against his chest and she came to a realization. "i'm all wet." she said.

"already?" he rebutted with a smile. she just laughed and turned them around so he was under the water.

she admired the way his hair fell to his forehead and his cheeks flushed from the heat of the water. his body glistened while wet and she loved it. his biceps flexed when he tilted his head back and raised his arms to move the hair from his eyes.

she took the step needed to be back in his close proximity and enveloped him in another loin-firing kiss.

their bodies knew each other perfectly at this point. they knew what made the other tick, what made them moan, what made them scream.

she wrapped her arms around his middle, pulling him impossibly closer.

he moved his hand to her neck, his long fingers wrapping around it with ease. applying the perfect amount of pressure from memory.

she pulled away from his intoxicating lips and swirled her tongue around the top of his ear. "you want me to get your mind off the bum?"

he backed up so he could look at her face and he could have cum at the sight of her. her eyes were hooded and dark. he grabbed both sides of her face and looked in her eyes before he answered her question. "fuck. yes."

she smirked at his answer and lowered herself to her knees, peppering kisses down his body in the process.

when she got to her destination, she wrapped her hands around his begging cock, and took his tip in her warm mouth.

chris sucked in a breath and grabbed her braids, wrapping them around his hand a few times. "fuuuck." he groaned and pushed her further down his shaft.

chris had received a lot of head in his 20 years, but y/n didn't just suck dick. she was an eater. she took all of him in her beautiful mouth and attempted to take his soul every time and the only sound he heard was her moans.

she was moaning.

"god, youre so fucking perfect." he grunted, looking down at her. his stomach dropped to his ass when she looked back at him through those lashes that he loved.

she pulled off him and began stroking him. "yeah?" she gathered her spit in her mouth and spat it on his tip, making him jolt and reach up to grab the shower head in order to stay on planet earth.

she swallowed him whole once again, stroking as her lips went back and forth on his dick.

chris was close and she knew it so she went all the way to the top and sucked his tip with enough passion that he released in her mouth with his eyes screwed shut and a moan.

he opened his eyes, and by the time the stars left his vision, y/n had swallowed every thing he gave her.

with weak legs, he turned around, shut the water off and dragged her out of the bathroom, soaking wet.

"chris, im soaked!" she laughed as he pushed her onto the bed, climbing on top of her.

"i know, and im gonna use that to my full advantage." he smiled and pecked her lips quickly, moving down to where he really wanted to be.

between her legs.

"im gonna fuck you til you see jesus." he stated, boring into her eyes.

she felt so nervous when chris looked at her like that. every time he did, she came out a changed woman.

"...o-okay..." she stuttered out.

and it began.

see, chris was an eater as well. he didn't just eat pussy, he fell into it. face first.

he ran two fingers up her folds, spreading her pussy so he could see all of her.

"god your pussy's so fucking pretty." he whispered and got to work. attaching his lips to her clit, using his tongue for something productive for once.

y/n was a mess already, moaning and gripping his hair with an iron fist. her legs fell wider with every caress of his tongue. she was falling apart and he wasn't even using his hands. this was sad.

he pulled away and spit on her pussy harshly and dove back in, driving her in-fucking-sane. but she really lost it when he bit her clit softly.

she came with a scream. it felt like she levitated off the bed. as she tried to roll over onto her stomach, chris gripped her plush thighs and held her back down. so she tried to close her legs but he slammed them open and brought his head up from his favorite place. between her thighs with her addicting scent attacking his sense.

he made eye contact with her and looked at her in a way that told her "lay the fuck down."

and she did.

but he knew she was sensitive, so instead of eating her pussy, which he loved doing, he collected her juices on his two fingers and slid them inside her with grace.

her eyes fell closed as she let out a "good god" only to be met with "my names chris ma. say my name."

she couldn't even comprehend what the fuck he was saying due to the way he was pulling her spirit out of her with his fucking fingers.

he got up on his knees and leaned down to her ear, never stopping his hands. "say my fucking name y/n." he rubbed her clit with his thumb and she gave him what he wanted.

she chanted his name like a prayer as she release once again. he went down automatically and licked all of her before coming up again and taking her mouth in his so she could see why he ate her pussy every time.

they kissed for a hot second, allowing her to ground herself. then he pulled away and asked "you still with me?" y/n nodded but it wasn't enough. "words, baby."

"i'm with you, chris."

she was looked at him with those eyes and he damn near lost his fucking mind.

he rolled off her and sat up against her headboard. "ride me, y/n"

she fucking loved when he said her name while they were fucking. it sounded so pretty coming from his filthy mouth. he said it so perfectly, his voice low, every letter sounding like sex.

she climbed on his lap, her legs folding at his sides. as she straddle him, she grabbed his face and kissed him once again. she could kiss him all day if he wasn't so fucking whore-ish. she moved from his lips to his neck and went to that spot that drove him wild, sucking until she heard him moaning.

she took that as a sign to sink onto his cock, whining at the full feeling.

chris was on planet her with doja cat at this point. her perfect pussy took him so well. like her body was made for sex with him.

his hand gripped her ass once again and he began guiding her on him until she took matters into her own hands and moved on her own.

they went slow. so pleasantly slow.

he pulled her hair so she'd look at him while she rode him. her brown eyes found his blue ones and they got lost in each other, whispering to each other things they'd never say outside of this moment.

"you're so fucking beautiful."

"you're perfect."

"just for you."

"i'm the only one who makes you feel as good as this?"

"only you."

"only me?"

"only you."

chris was feral.

he pulled out, flipped them over so he was on top, and pushed back into her at all at once. grabbing her leg, brought it over his shoulder and fucked her like he hadn't seen her in 12 years.

he felt all of her. her walls swallowing his cock and squeezing deliciously tight. he threw his head back in ecstasy and she reached up and brought it back so he was looking at her again. "it feels so good, chris." she pulled him down and kissed him.

he put all his weight on one arm and slipped the other one between them, pushing on her stomach so she felt even more of him.

this made her cry out and he took her open mouth as a sign to slip in his tongue and taste her pretty sounds.

y/n was on cloud 9. she felt so good. so full. so happy. she felt like she would never feel as content as she did when she was wrapped around chris, taking every stroke he gave her. she couldn't pinpoint when things had changed that night but she knew that they had. she knew that it would never be the same after this. but her orgasm was chasing her down and she couldn't focus on silly things like emotions.

pulling away she told him, "baby im gonna cum. can i cum? please?"

he simply chuckled at her uncharacteristic question and simply said, "yes, y/n. you can cum."

she looked at him with soft eyes. "you want me to?"

he chuckled again and said "yes baby, i want you to. do it for me." he move his hand from her belly to her clit and rubbed soft circles.

y/n gasped and her eyes rolled back in her head. she had no words. she couldn't see, or hear, or smell or taste. all she could feel was chris. she could feel her inside him, touching every part of her. she could feel his hand on her pussy, bringing her to tears. she could feel his breath on her nose as he watched her come undone.

finding her voice, she screamed out praises over and over again, the sound bringing chris to his own high.

he closed his eyes and asked where she wanted him. she didn't answer, so he patted her face softly so she'd focus, and asked again. "where do you want me baby?"

"leave it in." she breathed out. "cum in my pussy please."

he couldn't take it after that. he finished in a way that can only be described as an explosion. the funny thing is, he he was the one who saw jesus. every muscle in his body tightened and he closed his eyes so hard, he saw shapes.

"fuck fuck fuck FUCK Y/N!" he moaned as he painted her walls with himself and pulled out, covered his hand in their mixed seed and shoved his fingers in her mouth.

and she did what was expected, swirling her tongue around his fingers, she sucked until there was nothing left.

"you're so fucking good, i can't believe it." he muttered in amazement.

her eyes were already falling shut as she sucked his fingers and he knew if she continued he'd melt into a puddle on her carpet.

he rolled off her and layed on her bed, staring at the ceiling, desperate to catch his breath. when he did, he went to to bathroom and got the towel that she never used, to clean her up, smiling when she moaned at the feeling in her sleep.

he cleaned himself off, threw the towel into the hamper, then laid back down and curled into her side, resting his head on her tits.

chris wasn't oblivious. he knew that tonight changed things. he knew that she wasn't just a friend anymore. he knew that they were gonna have to talk about it for the sake of their relationship.

but not tonight.

tonight, he'd hold her close and relish in the feeling of her nails in his hair. he'd cherish her scent. he'd kiss her until her taste was etched on his tongue. he'd watch her sleep and drift off to the sounds of her soft snores.

because not only was she a hood fav,

she was his fav.

niyah speaks for the eaters who want love ALSOOOO i got a nic fluff coming out this month bc is gay month and my people need to be recognized

taglist: @mattslolita @hoesformatt @muwapsturniolo @mattssluttygf

remember that if no one loves you, mommy loves you (and my mommy i mean me)

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #i want my hoe back guys

277 notes · View notes

argisthebulwark · 4 months ago

Text

Pretty Please?

summary: Asking them to let you tie a bow around their bicep💕 gn reader, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. feat: Farkas, Vilkas, Brynjolf, Miraak, Mercer warnings: some swearing, unserious threats (Mercer) masterlist

"Oh hell yeah." Farkas isn't ashamed to admit that he flexes just a little when you wrap the cute ribbon around his bicep. He loves the excited gleam in your eye and the shameless way your hands linger on his muscles even when the task is complete. "Now what?" He laughs, enjoying the satisfied smile on your face. "You keep it there." "For how long?" "Until it falls off, I guess." You shrug, allowing his arms to wrap around you. Farkas can't help himself from drawing closer to you, there's something magnetic about being in your presence. Any silly little joke is worth seeing you smile. "What if it breaks?" "How would it break?" Oh, you've played right into his game. Farkas flexes his triceps, feeling the flimsy ribbon strain and snap around his muscles. He adores the pout you force to cover up the clear amusement when you pluck the pink fabric from his arm. "You just wanted to show off." "C'mon, tie another one. I promise to leave it all day." Of course he's true to his word. Farkas double checks your knot on the second bow, strangely invested in this one staying as long as possible. He's thrilled to talk to the new recruits about his lovely partner who'd placed it there, fingers brushing the soft fabric sentimentally each time he thinks of you.

Vilkas grumbles something under his breath, eyes never straying from his book. Behind the locks of dark hair you spot his expression, noting the lack of real annoyance. Fighting back a grin you play along with his obligatory protests. "It's just a cute little bow." "What purpose does it serve?" "I can ask someone else." You sigh theatrically, turning on your heel. Right on queue Vilkas huffs, a strong hand closing around your wrist and tugging you closer. "Just put it on." He growls just as you'd expected. He thinks he's so scary, but Vilkas sits eerily still and allows you to tie a pretty pink ribbon around his bicep. Despite his protests it remains there all day. One sharp glare shuts down the giggling from a group of whelps resting in the main hall, though the older Companions are harder to quiet. Farkas nearly combusts when Vilkas breezes past him without saying a word, his gleeful expression matched only by yours. After a few boring meetings you scurry down to the marketplace in search of your partner, thrilled at the sight of him pawing through bits of armor while merchants and civilians stare pointedly at your ribbon. It had started as a funny suggestion but seeing him now makes your heart melt. Fully aware that you're killing his tough persona, you skip closer until Vilkas' large hand instinctively reaches for you. He continues haggling with the merchant, seemingly unaware of the pink ribbon flapping in the gentle afternoon breeze. "You doin' this for all the lads?" Brynjolf smirks, holding his arm out to you. "Why?" You hum, so carefully tying a perfect bow over his muscled arm. He isn't sure why you've chosen to add a pink ribbon to his armor but for you he'd do anything. "Would that make you jealous?" "Oh, desperately." He deadpans, enveloping you in his arms. Brynjolf relaxes when you brush through his hair, grateful for the distraction from the endless stacks of paperwork towering on his desk. "Just you, Bryn." You assure him, adjusting the bow until it's perfect. "Thank the gods for that - but did ya have to choose such a bright color, love?" "Some of the recruits have been eyeing you a bit too much for my liking." You admit, sinking deeper into his touch. "Had to stake my claim." "I live and breathe for you, love." From a man who's spent decades lying and stealing, those are the truest words he's ever spoken. Brynjolf loves the excited way you fuss at his bow, ensuring it will stay in place. "What if I get called on a job? This frilly pink'll surely get me caught." "Good thing you're the best there is." "Aye, love. Got that right."

"Absolutely not." Miraak lies, resolve already cracking. He can never say to no to you for long. "Why not?" "Why should I allow this?" "I think you'll look cute." He groans at your words, fully aware that he can not resist that sweet tone of your voice. Dropping whatever tome he'd been reading for far too long he allows you to crawl into his lap. It's painfully difficult to not just give in to you. Miraak knows that his intimidating persona is all but shattered in your presence but that does not stop him from grasping at its last remaining shreds when he can. "I have slain thousands. I could end you with a word. I am not cute." "Fine." You huff, still clutching the frilly piece of ribbon. "You're pretty, is that better?" "It is not." He grumbles, putting up no fight when your fingers dance up his arm. "Would this please you?" "Greatly." His heart swells at that smile, the one you've only shown him. To the rest of Tamriel you are a being of myth, the Last Dragonborn, the only one who holds the world's fate in the palm of your hands. You could save or condemn continents with a word. Yet here you sit, face cupped in Miraak's gloved hands and pouting over a cute pink ribbon. He sighs, unable to maintain the act any longer. "As you wish, my Dragon."

"Try it and I'll gut you." Mercer grunts, content to ignore your request - until he sees the disappointment shimmering in your eyes. That excited smile fades and your hands fall to your sides and oh, the guilt kicks his ass. He turns behind the desk, disgusted by how badly be wants to please you. Wordlessly, he raises his left arm. He glares down at the list of recently recovered oddities without absorbing any information when you happily bounce closer, touch featherlight as you tie the scrap of fabric around his arm. "You markin' me for some sort of hit?" He snarks, attempting to distance himself from the sheer pleasure of you leaning so close to him. "There's easier ways to kill you, honey." Your voice is light, unaffected by his refusal. "I'm goin' away on a job for a while, I just figured you'd think of me when you saw this." Mercer grunts noncommittally once more, swallowing the words threatening to escape - you think he requires a silly bow to think of you? Every moment you're away from the Cistern he's worrying over your safety, counting the hours the job should take until his chest is tight. He doesn't mention it again, though after your departure he catches a few other thieves snickering behind their hands. He strides through the Flagon without looking at them, summoning the most cutting voice he can before speaking. "Say another word and you won't live to see sunrise."

#skyrim #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #writing #farkas #vilkas #brynjolf #miraak #mercer frey

221 notes · View notes

joeys-babe · 11 months ago

Text

Joey B Blurbs: More Than A Woman

————————————————————————-

Summary: You’re back with more antics and poor Joe is on the receiving end of yet another Tiktok trend. This time it's asking him to name a random woman’s name out of nowhere to see what he'll say…

Warnings: slight angst, unserious/funny

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

————————————————————————-

*No specific date for this fic!*

(y/n’s pov)

Joe and I were sitting on the couch watching The Office while we waited for Ja’marr, TB, and Tee to arrive for dinner.

I knew Joe would tone down the coupley stuff when “his boys” arrived, so I was currently savoring the feel of my boyfriend's body against mine.

When I walked into the living room earlier to find him comfy on the couch, I immediately crawled on top of him and laid my head on his chest.

Joe grabbed a blanket and put it on top of us before he slipped his hand under my sweatshirt to rub my back.

Now and then he'd kiss my head or comment on something in the show since the episode currently playing was quite the doozy.

If you know anything about The Office… you probably feel some type of way about the words “Casual Day”.

The episode was messy nonetheless and pretty unforgettable. We had seen it so many times but it still made Joe laugh so many different times.

Since we had seen it so many times, I was increasingly getting bored.

Time to do a little trend with Joe.

I went through my mental folder of different things I could do with him without getting up from my comfortable place in his arms. That's when the idea hit me.

“Hey, baby.” - you

“Mhm?” - Joe

“Name a woman.” - you

“Name a woman?” - Joe

“Yup.” - you

What’s he going to say? I thought.

“Uhm… I don't know, uh… Meredith.” - Joe

“Meredith?” - you busted out laughing

“Yeah.” - Joe nodded

“Like the one in the show? The one’s who's boobies you just saw? Jeez, now I know where your mind is at…” - you

“What?! It's not like that, she was just the first woman that popped into my head. They were blurred out too! I don't need to see some rando’s boobs when I can see yours anytime I want! I swear I wasn't being creepy…” - Joe

The entire time he was seriously trying to defend himself, I was holding in my laugh. I was just teasing him but I'm guessing he didn't pick up on that.

“Joe, I was just playing around.” - you laughed

“Good. I thought you were being for real for a second and I was worried I was going to be put on the couch tonight.” - Joe chuckled

Mmm, Imma mess with him.

“Who said you aren't being put on the couch tonight? I'm kinda disappointed you didn't name… I don't know… me!” - you

“Aye! That's not fair, you don't count.” - Joe

“Joe, why wouldn't I count? I'm a woman, aren't I? That was the criteria.” - you

“You’re more than just a woman though… you're my gorgeous, smart, sexy, kind, and amazing girlfriend.” - Joe smiled

Joe leaned forward to press his lips onto mine in a sweet and thorough kiss, but when he pulled away with a sly smirk on his face I decided he wasn't getting away with it that easy.

“Stop trying to butter me up, boy. You're still sleeping on the couch.” - you grinned

“Damn it!” - Joe grumbled

I giggled as I spread kisses all over his cheeks before finally planting one on his lips.

“I'm just kidding.” - you

Joe opened his mouth to talk but the sound of the doorbell cut him off.

“The guys are here.” - you went to crawl off of Joe but he stopped you

“Come in!” - Joe

The front door opened and in walked the wide receiver trio. I gave Joe a skeptical look but he just kissed my cheek and pushed my head back onto his chest.

He was really not trying to sleep on the couch tonight.

————————————————————————-

Authors note: kind of a niche blurb… iykyk.

Request for this fix;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

324 notes · View notes

thepinkdreamganjaqueen · 1 month ago

Text

Subway Obsessions Arthur's POV ch.1

Arthur Fleck POV x Fem!Reader

Masterlist 🩷

Summary: From Arthurs POV. It's just another night on the subway. A typical ride on the Gotham train on his way home from a long day of running errands and away from his tedious depressive thoughts. Perhaps he would catch a glimpse of the woman he could only seem to catch in passing, the woman he’d been secretly watching, following, fantasizing about nightly. Perhaps the unending misery that is the city above had him thinking of change, of something new to obsess about. Something to draw his mind away from the blistering and the mundane. Would he finally get the courage to talk to her?

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, public exhibitionism, subway cruising, swearing, stalking, obsession, mentions of violence, fem!reader, romantic smut, fluff

A/N: Beginning to a series? Who knows. May add things later. First fic, btw! I'm hyper fixated now, so expect more. This is something I've been mulling around with for a while. I've done this story from both the readers' POV and from Arthur's because I can't get enough!! So, make sure to read both! I loved writing from this perspective so much, btw! Literally! Send ideas, edits, etc. my way!! And be nice please. The first chapter is mostly fluff/ descriptive plot/character building. Cheers! Enjoyyy!

Word Count: 3.9k

SERIES: Subway Obsessions

CHAPTER 1: Chance Meeting

Today was another mundane day. Arthur had been out earlier in the evening running errands for his mother. Picking up T.V. dinners at the grocer and medications for him and her at the local pharmacy. Still, getting around the city was a chore in of itself. He figured the subway would be the easiest and quickest way home. It was nearing 10 o'clock pm. His mother would be worried, and it was getting late. He knew the dangers of roaming Gotham city at these hours. His mother used to say, "That's when the colorful people come out." A way to make something serious, completely unserious. Still, he knew the dangers and tried as hard as he might to keep his wits about him. Easier said than done when you're a man with a neurological disorder, apparently so many people hate you for. He wished they’d understood or tried at least.

He always pondered why the people of Gotham were so... well so mean! Everyone he encountered save for the very, very few were just assholes to him. Perhaps it was the political climate? With Thomas Wayne running for government placement, it probably didn't help. Make the rich richer and the poor poorer he thought. Perhaps it was the state of the city itself, the infrastructure, the lack of resources. He sure has been on the wrong end of that stick one too many times. "Good people suffer Happy," his mother would say. But he never understood why it had to be that way. Life was circumstantial. He didn't ask to have what little he did. He didn't even ask to be born and thought life was the real joke.

It doesn't have to make sense to be funny! He jested internally. Because its fucked! And there lies the comedy for those broken enough to see, yet perhaps healed enough to laugh at the pain. Because, what else can you do?

His mind wandered through these endless fields of thought when a train car stopped in front of him. He had been standing on the platform disassociating for some time. Perhaps he even forgot where he was for a moment, ruminating over the wrongs of life and playing them out differently in his head. The things he didn't say or do, what he could have done differently...

The brisk hiss and click of the air brakes as they screeched to a halt brought him back to reality. He blinked a couple of times, waiting for the doors to open. As he did, a disheveled looking figure pushed past him while exiting. He burst out in a cry of compulsory laughter and stepped on the train. He was in the last car and immediately noticed it was bearable, as bearable as riding the subway can be he postulated.

In his search for a seat towards the end of the train car, he noticed a large putrid looking spill in the back. It melted off the seats and slid across the aisle. It looked sticky. Best to avoid that then, he thought. He opted for a bench seat away from the offending area and sat down, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, arm outstretched on the head of the seat next to him. No one was in this car except for him. He found a moment of solace and drank it in, filling himself with the noiseless satisfaction of silence and peace when a warbled voice broke over the loud speaker. He couldn't really understand it, but the semblance of words spoke what sounded like “platform 19”. It was all he could understand through the robot whine. He felt anticipation rising within him.

At approximately 10:15 p.m., the doors of the subway train broke open with a gush of cold night air. At the other end of the subway, he watched as a woman stepped onto the train like a fawn. Scared and unsure of where to go or sit. She was bright and colorful; she immediately caught his eye. Was this what his mother meant by colorful people? He thought to himself. He quickly realized it was her! The girl he had fantasized about daily and nightly, hoping to catch her on the train but only seeming to in his thoughts and dreams, remembering her face, her scent that penetrated her surroundings. He had tirelessly followed her the first time he saw her. She was the only person to smile at him that day. He had to know more and had to know why. But she wasn't always on the same train. He always hoped to run into her and had almost given up, thinking she must have been some sort of hallucination he created for himself to lessen his own pain. But there she was.

She looked different tonight. She looked like a predator, displaying colors brightly in the face of possible danger. She was a force; he felt the atmosphere change as soon as she stepped in through the steel doors, a thickness lifted in the air and he could feel himself tense in his seat. His clothes were suddenly uncomfortable, his collar too tight, his hands, sweaty. She always looked beautiful when he saw her, she always looked content and comfortable. Hair in a messy bun with strands falling about her face swayed by the wind that surged through the train car. Sweats he could still make out her figure through, leaving him wanting more every time, it drove him crazy! But today she looked like she was straight out of the films on the TV! He thought to himself. She made him think of glamour, it's the only word that truly fit, like the old films he would watch with his mom. Wow! Was she a sight to see, a cool pristine liquid flowing over his burning eyes. A soothing image of pure proclivity. An unknown sense of calm swept over him.

He watched, frozen, as she cautiously observed the train car searching for a seat. He looked at her from top to bottom. She was significantly smaller than him, petite, probably around five feet three he gauged. Fuzzy black boots, blue jeans tightly hugging her figure, full thick thighs, his mouth began to water - he thirsted for her, wanted to drink in her every essence. He felt a lump in his throat as he tried to choke it down. A tight black shirt under a small cropped pink sweater with red hearts all over. It perfectly displayed her large soft breasts. Brown curls bounced about her shoulders as she walked, strands of them fell daintily on her face and cheeks. As she walked, she would flick it away with a quick movement of her head. The way she did that, moving her hair out of her face without using her hands. It made him tingle in all the right places. His mind raced. What else can she do without using her hands? he thought.

There was something pink in her hair too, he saw as she walked past. She didn't notice him at first. Most people don't he thought to himself. Although this thought disappointed him, he didn't fault her for it. He had the urge to make her notice him. To be a presence and to be objectified by her, he only wished he could hold that kind of power.

As she passed, the scent he had come to know as her- wafted past him, he sucked in through his teeth sharply. It was heaven on earth. Stimulating. He would follow that scent hoping to find her, mercilessly searching. It was like a drug, an aphrodisiac, and he felt his cock spasm. She was eyeing the seats towards the back where that odd spill was. A butterfly he thought. It's a pink butterfly in her hair. He immediately felt like a school boy again, fawning over and wanting to get the attention of the pretty girl and for her to return it.

"This one's fine!" He blurted out, not really knowing what he was saying. She turned around, her beauty, dark, striking, and he found it hard to speak again. He stammered and was able to get the lump out of his throat to follow up with; "I don't know what that is back there but these are not so bad" his voice felt cracked but he tried to contain his composure, he didn't want to scare her off. He was the only other person on the train, and it must have jolted her since she didn't see him at first. Plus, she probably thinks I'm some kind of creep or weirdo, he thought to himself. There was some truth behind those thoughts, but that didn't make him a bad person, he thought. All day, he spends trying to have a nice day to make himself and others happy, trying to think good thoughts, trying not to let the bad influence the good he can salvage.

"Oh, thank you!" A sweet voice broke the monotony of thought, and immediately he was flung back into the present. She made her way to the seats laid out in front of him. A row of sideways seating. He watched her sit gracefully, slowly, like a calculated ballet dancer, he thought. Every move fluid, every move perfect. When she sat, she arranged her things on the seat next to her and settled in. He wondered to himself where she was going. Why she had so many bags, why she was riding the subway so late, as a woman, she should be terrified. This city is not safe, especially for someone as strikingly beautiful as her. She was like a beacon of light, too bright to stare at, but he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame and simply couldn't resist the allure.

She actually sat next to me! He thought. Only one seat away, actually next to me. But that wasn't all. She saw him, noticed him, heard him, and listened to him. The weight of these simple gestures made his hands sweaty, and he tried his best to remain aloof. The doors of the train opened on the other side of her, and a breeze blew her hair behind her and over her face. He couldn't help but see her, every aspect of her. He studied her every move, every inch of her body. He wanted this to last, for this image to never leave his mind.

The wind that blew past her carried on it her scent. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the sweet alluring scent of peach? No. Some kind of berry? No. When the doors shut and the pressure created another breeze, the scent wafted to him again. Taking it all in, he identified the smell as watermelon. Some kind of fruity smell filled his senses with the feeling of euphoria. It was intoxicating. He wondered what it would be like to be pressed up against her, inhaling her deeply. He looked down with a deep sigh when he looked back over. She was moving a strand of hair out of her face and caught a glimpse of her looking at him as well. Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she broke her gaze. She was fire, burning too hot near him, and he wanted so badly to play, to burn himself, engulf himself in her flames breathlessly.

He tried to come up with something to say, anything. How do I talk to her? What would I even say without sounding stupid? He thought. He watched on as the florescent lights above her flickered. It lit up parts of her he hadn't seen upon first observation. Glitter decorated her collar bones and cheeks. Her sweater was slightly unzipped. He could see the peeking out of her cleavage. Sparkling with glitter, so pretty, she reminded him of the stars of the night sky. Unmistakably beautiful, yet so. Far. Away. He had been working up the courage to say something to her, to hear her voice again, he didn't want to forget it. A symphony replayed in his mind. He needed more.

He stumbled over his words, "Sorry, I-it's hard for me to talk, I meant to introduce myself. I'm Arthur, " he said in the kindest, most unassuming voice he could muster. She looked up and locked eyes. They burned his insides like hot coals. He anticipated her reply, not knowing if she would even engage in conversation with him. "No worries!" She spoke in a reassuring way that made his heart flutter. "I know how it can be, trust me!" She sounded genuine. Kind. There was something underneath her voice, though he couldn't quite conceptualize. Fear? Doubt, maybe? He wanted to take it away.

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur!" Again, her voice beaming so light and so lifting. She reached out to shake his hand that he had offered. Her hand was small and was practically swallowed by his. Her fingers were warm, sweeping softly over his palm as she grasped his hand in hers. It's a simple thing, he thought. It was a small touch, but it was enough to make him crumble inside. She felt so nice! "Y/N," he said. "I like that." He lamented. Such a beautiful name. But everything about her was beautiful. Her presence was wholesome and welcoming. Is this real? he pondered. Thoughts took over again, and not knowing how to continue the conversation, they sat in silence for a moment as he worked up the courage to speak again.

Moments passed that felt like a lifetime, but he was content in her presence, soaking up her aura. As he went to ask her a question, she moved to speak as well. Catching each other off guard, Arthur profusely apologized "No it's okay, go ahead," he said, not wanting to interrupt her. "No, no, that's okay, what were you going to say?" She insisted back. Her voice was small and mousey, she seemed so shy. Why would she be? She screams confidence and power. Even in her apprehensive movements, she seems calculated, he thought to himself. He stole another glance at her. Her eyes sparkled reminiscent of a smokey quartz gem in a bracelet he once saw in a shop window. A thought of her adorned in nothing but gems crossed his mind. He tried to hold onto the image before it left his mind's eye. He felt a flush in his cheeks again, and his eyes darted. He couldn't look her in the eyes for too long. It made him nervous. He was working up the urge to speak again, to say something, anything.

He broke the silence and asked, "So what brings you to ride the subway so late at night? Aren't you scared?" He uttered jokingly. After saying it, he felt immediate stupidity. Why would I say that? He thought and started an inner spiral. As if seeing his reaction to his own question and wanting to ease the tension building within him, Y/N said, " Well, I work at the Gotham shelter overnight. So, having to ride the train every night, I guess, I've gotten used to it for the most part. But, yeah, I do get scared sometimes. The city can be super sketchy, and I've been attacked twice already, so I had to buy mace and stuff to try and protect myself."

The words spilled out of her mouth like a wave of glass, he couldn't fathom her ever saying this of all things, it was jolting for him and triggered something within him he had tried so long to hide. His mind raced. He felt anger and rage well up inside of him it hardened his sternum and burned in his throat. He became stiff but was unaware. The spiraling began to start again. This city was ruining people, hurting people, good people! He thought. She helps people, and then people hurt her?! Pieces of shit! He screamed internally. The emotions he felt were at war within himself. He felt rage for her pain and suffering at the hands of this city's denizens, he felt fear for her life knowing she rides the train every night, he felt regret, why couldn't he have been there to help, to do something? He all but took the pain on as his own, it soaked through to his core. He too had been at the mercy of some of the worst people he has ever had the displeasure of encountering in this god forsaken city, he too had been attacked, hurt, mercilessly tortured by these fucking terrible people.

Lost in his train of thought and looking straight ahead he couldn't help but sternly say in sympathy "These people are just fucking terrible!" She must have noticed his change in demeanor at this declaration. He suddenly felt a warmth cross his leg, and lightly squeeze. It was smooth and comforting. His concentration broke completely. Pulled out of a trance by her as if the thoughts were just zapped out of his brain. His eyes quickly darted back to her where they followed the length of her shoulder, to her arm, and from her arm to her hand that rested upon his thigh. He felt the muscles in his face relax, his shoulders dropped, jaw unclenched. The sheer power she had over him he thought. The warmth emanating off of her palm was like security, a blanket of nostalgia. He couldn't remember the last time he felt what felt like love, like connection, or attachment. He couldn't help but see flashes of images in his mind, her moving her hand closer to his cock which had began to throb. He tried to brush away those thoughts but they plagued him. She was touching him. Something that never happens to him. He immediately craved her touch, he wanted more, he wondered how that would be possible. He thought this couldn't be real. Not this time.

Once again, breaking his thought pattern she spoke, and he gave her his full attention. "Yeah, but I'm ok now!" She said in a reassuring tone. Her voice, like petals on velvet. Soft, gentle. "You're here now! And so, I feel safe." Safe? He thought, with me? Like she trusts me? He could feel the negative thoughts start to brim to the surface of his mind but quelled them by responding instead. He needed clarification. The words she spoke just didn't make sense to him. He couldn't see why she would or should trust him, although he so badly wanted her to, for this to be true, he needed it to be. He suddenly felt the urge to never leave her, to always be by her side. He would watch, he would follow, and he would do anything for her.

He only imagined what it would be like to know her both romantically and intimately. "You feel safe? W-with me?" He spoke haphazardly, unsure of the answer he wanted to hear, hoped to hear. "I do." She looked into his eyes sincerely. His heart leapt into his throat; he couldn't breathe. She was so fucking beautiful. He wanted to grab her, to feel her against him. He shifted his legs at the thought. Looking up at him like that weakened him in so many ways. Most noticeably, in his pants, where he tried to conceal the results of his dirty thoughts. "Then I will protect you Y/N" he proclaimed proudly. A shy smile touched her lips and she continued to gaze into his eyes. He smiled back. I make her feel safe, he thought. She is comfortable in my presence. No one even bothers talking to me, no one ever wants to talk to me. He had the urge to speak once more but couldn't find the words.

Before either of them could speak, the subway speaker rang out once again in that barely audible robotic toned voice announcing the next stop as the harsh brakes squeaked heavily to a stop. As if anticipating her to leave, he just as quickly stood up and offered out his hand. "Thank you," her voice sang. She turned to face him, her small stature looking up at him once more. He held his composure but felt the heat well up inside him. "It was so nice having someone to ride the train with tonight for a change!" She cheerfully exclaimed with a smile.

She had grabbed her things and had let go of his hand. What sweet bliss it was for the few seconds he had held it. Her fingers, so dainty and soft. The train screeched to a halt, and he instinctively grabbed her hand again and put his other hand at the small of her back to steady her. He could feel the soft curve of her spine. He slowly moved a pinky closer, hoping she wouldn't notice, tracing the line of her jeans as he did, feeling the line of her panty through the fabric. He quickly pulled away as she exited the train. He had held back. He wanted to do so much more. He wanted to turn her around, grab her face and kiss her, shove her onto the subway seats, and have his way with her, make her cry out. He wanted her to miss work. He wanted her to quit! He wanted her all to himself.

This moment was too perfect. It felt like a dream. As she stepped off the platform and began to walk away, he stood as the doors shut, helplessly watching her as she slowly walked. Unable to stop time. As the train brakes hissed and cranked, he saw her stop and turn around. She had stepped to the doors, but it was too late. He watched on as her figure shrunk into the distance as the train traveled once again into the dark tunnel. He waved. He would see her again. He would make sure of that. Platform 19. He thought, I'll remember this time.

82 notes · View notes

lucvly · 1 year ago

Note

can you please do some hcs for having nick as your best friend?

— best friend headcannons with nick. ⸰ 𖥔 ͙

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, not proofread.

a/n: i love y’alls reqs omg 🙁

— i just know he’s a clingy ass best friend idc. wants to take you anywhere and everywhere he goes simply because he enjoys your presence that much.

— this mf would definitely show up to your house unannounced. he’d text you asking if he can come over and as soon as you say yes he’s like “good because i was waiting outside”.

— he’s so unserious. convinces you to make up a fake language in an uber as you’re going home from a party. needless to mention you were both wasted (+ the uber driver was incredibly confused LMFAO).

— he loves going out to eat with you. nothing fancy, you could go out and eat mcdonald’s and he’d be the happiest man on earth because he gets to gossip with you.

— you two bully matt and chris together. as soon as nick found out about the chester picture on akinator, he made your clueless ass play just to see it. (spoiler alert: both of you ended up crying with laughter on the floor– chris was pissed.)

— he wants you involved in everything. before going on tour, he asked you to help him practice basketball because he wanted to take his brothers down LMAO.

— loves going shopping with you. he gives you the greatest advice on fashion and you do the same for him. (you always get at least four matching outfits).

— adding onto the matching thing, y’all will always be matching it’s so funny. at some point people start to think you’re his long lost sister because oh my god. the hair is always matching. he’s blonde? nah, both of you are going blonde. you’re going back to brunette? he’s going back too.

— getting your nails done with him is so fun. you two always go together. he helps you pick out your design duh.

— great with advice!! he may seem really unserious but if you’re having a deep conversation or just overall need some advice, he’s always there willing to help you.

— drinking with him is so fun bye. i know he’s a sucker for smirnoff argue w the wall! sometimes you’ll both get a little tipsy and either you start talking about the true meaning of life and what your purpose on earth is or what color a dog’s vision really is.

— he’s the type of friend that’ll send you at least 50 tiktoks daily and 20 reels. laughs at the stupidest shit LMAOO. half of the reels are cats dancing or something.

— he’s a gift giver trust. whether it’s something small like your usual coffee order or something huge on your birthday, he loves giving you gifts.

— y’all have a sibling type of relationship. you never argue. obviously you’re bound to have disagreements but those are solved in two seconds LMAO. matt and chris get so confused because one minute you’re yelling at each other and the next you’re laughing your ass off at some tiktok nick showed you.

— matching halloween costumes duh. it could literally be june and he’d already have at least ten ideas on what to go as for halloween.

— every sunday you go and get ice cream and tell each other everything about your week.

— you have a shared spotify playlist just so you can update each other on what music you’ve been listening to lately.

231 notes · View notes

twagoes · 3 months ago

Text

my boyfriend rating hugs other men could give me | richie jerimovich x reader

-> want to note that this was written with a male reader in mind and there are words used to describe a man used when describing reader. if you don’t like that…obviously dont read it lmao

cws: age gap relationship (richie is likee 45 and readers age wasnt stated, but i imagine mid 20s), cursing, unserious jealousy and more unseriousness aggressive protectiveness. and yeah, that’s all i can think of rn….

“what are you filming me for?” richie’s gruff voice is loud and booming and he just sounds immediately fed up with whatever you have planned. but he only sounds like that. you know him well enough to know he doesn’t actually care that much about your phone being in his face. he’s gotten a lil used to you always coming up to him for new content for your tiktok account.

“can we film a tiktok?”

“another fucking tiktac, i don’t know what it up with your obsession with that app, but no-“

“i promise it’ll be really funny,” you pout, hugging his arm and he’s already sighing knowing he’s lost the debate. not that he even minds filming one, it’s just, he really doesn’t get it. is he entertaining or something? why are you coming up to him every other week with new content? do you have a lot of followers or something? regardless, then he’d be lying if he didn’t feel a sense of pride whenever you’d ask him to be in one of your videos — as if it’s the highest honor.

he, obviously, doesn’t know you two had recently gone viral and you were making some good cash off of that video.

so to milk the content as well as just wanting to see his genuine reaction, you drag him to the couch and force him to lay down. he gets cozy quickly, sighing and holding his arms open for you to lay in. you take your place by his side and show him your phone screen. it’s already recording.

“alright, say who you are-“

“why do i gotta do that? is this going to people we know? do your followers not already know me?” he asks, looking at you incredulously, “i’m your boyfriend slash fiance slash love of your life slash only man that you know, there’s an introduction. richie, by the way,”

you laugh at his tone and antics, knowing that this video was already going to be good.

“okay, so basically, we are gonna be rating different types of hugs,” he nods in understanding, leaning his head over yours as he stares at the phone that’s filming everything, “so it’s 10 is the worst hug, 1 is the best,”

“okay, sounds simple enough, let’s get it going,” he says, rolling his wrist, as if saying to speed up the process.

“the thing is: you’re rating hugs that other girls or guys would give me,”

that has him lifting his head off of yours and looking down at you, not watching your phone screen anymore.

“babe, what the fuck? no? what the fuck does that even mean?” his chicago accent is thick as he lays on all these questions for you, “why would you even be going around hugging other guys? this sounds stupid,”

“if it’s stupid, let’s just do it quickly then,” you persist, rubbing his scruff with your hand and forcing his face to look back at the camera, “richie, swear it’s only gonna take a couple seconds,”

“nah, you just wanna see me pissed off cause you like that shit,” he smirks, but he’s still seemingly not willing, “why do i have to do this again?”

“because you love me, c’mon, please,” you beg and he’s staring at you unimpressed for a couple of seconds before groaning, rolling his eyes, and making a whole dramatic show of how he doesn’t want to do this. all before cozying back up next to you and letting you put the filter on.

“i swear to god if there’s some dumb ass shit on here, i’m leaving,” he warns, but you don’t take it too seriously as you grin and reposition the camera to have the filter on him. “okay, fine, so one is the worst and ten is the best?”

“no, no, babe, it’s the other way around,” you correct him softly, watching the filter go through all the options above his head.

“wait, that doesn’t make fucking sense?” he says, face screwing up, “wouldn’t it make sense that one is the worst because, it being at the top is, like, top tier worst hug ever, like i’m killing a guy because of it,”

“richie, richie, look it’s already going,”

he grumbles before looking at the screen and squinting when he sees what it’s landed on, reading it slowly, “the fuck is a catcher hug?” he looks at you repeatedly, up and down as if he’s accusing you of something, “you let other guys catch you and hug you? this is what you let happen when i’m not around?”

you break out into laughter at how serious he’s taking it, shaking your head no and urging him to answer, but he’s still interrogating you, “no, no, like actually what the fuck is this? obviously that’s the worst,” you laugh again, knowing that there is arguably worse than that in the filter, “that shit is easily a ten, i don’t care. who the fuck else is gonna catch you besides me? oh right, no one!”

you nod along with him, tapping the slot of ten and waiting for the next one. he leans his head against yours, lips in a tight line as he waits.

“okay, this one is…self hug! okay, this one is good,”

“yeah, i like that one, don’t go hugging other people - you got yourself. put it at one, babe,” he says, kissing the top of your head with a smile. it was funny how quickly his mood changed, “okay, maybe this shit isn’t that bad.”

the filter goes again and you’re surprised to see the more tame options.

“classic hug is a classic hug, nothing’s wrong with it,” he muses, looking at the empty list and easily placing it at 2, “better if there’s no hugging like that self hugging shit, but whatever.”

he taps the slot and waits the next one.

“oh, shit, i like this game, side hug is a solid 3,” he laughs, very happy with how this is going, “but if they’re taller than me, they can suck my balls. no guy taller than me can be side hugging you, it’s basically cheating,”

“baby, no one else is taller than you,” you softly whisper earning a hum of approval from him.

“strangle hug? i like this one too, but it should be you strangling them so they, y’know-” he cuts his hand over his neck in a motion that makes you smack him for being so explicit, but he sees nothing wrong with it, “uh, yeah, that’s the best case scenario. that or i’m doing it for ‘em. i’m gonna put it at 4, just cause it’ll mean they di-“

“alright! richie, relax, next one, oh my god,”

“one armed hug? uhm, huh…i don’t like this one, it’s too comfortable, y’know? i always have my arm around you, it’s kinda like that. it’s weird if someone else does it to you,” he cringes at the idea of it and then taps his finger to seven, “yeah, no that shit is weird and i’m killing whoever does that shit to you,”

“richie, please, you’re not killing anyone,”

“uh, yeah, i’m killing the motherfucker that gives you a one arm hug. the fuck?”

you laugh and hug his waist, eagerly waiting for the next one. and finally, an interesting one came up.

“uh, what the fuck am i looking at, [name]?” his voice raises ever so slightly and he’s looking back and forth between you and the screen, “you hugging other guys — at the waist? what the actual fuck is this?” you laugh at his dramatic question, “no, nothing is funny, what the fuck? ew, why are they posed like that — making all that eye contact and shit. fuck, no, [name], that shit should be a twenty.”

“so, nine?”

“yeah, cause i got no other fucking choice,” he says, in a matter a fact voice.

the next one makes you burst out in laughter, “pick pocket hug? a pick pocket hug?!” he anunciates each word as if its his last, blinking repeatedly at you, “what the fuck, babe? no, that’s an eight! the drawings have their hands inside of each other’s assholes! look!”

“no, they don’t! it’s just, like, on the butt…?”

“oh, so you’re defending this?”

“shut up, i’m just saying, what you said is a little of an exaggeration,”

“no, it’s not, that’s basically butt sex — and you can’t have butt sex with anyone but me!”

”obviously, richie, but it’s just like hypothetically!”

“even hypothetically!” he stubbornly calls out, eyebrows raised in disbelief. ”let’s just get all this shit over and done with, please, i‘m growing gray hairs over this,”

“next is…cuddle…”

“you’re literally just cheating on me, you’re cheating on me,” he accuses you and you know he’s (half) joking and teasing, but with the look in his eyes and tone of his voice, anyone would think he was serious. which is why you’re laughing so hard, “you are fucking cuddling with another man, how the fuck do i make this a ten? this shit is terrible, that’s the worst ever, babe!” you’re still laughing and he’s shaking you back and forth, “where the fuck am i supposed to put that?”

with 5 and 6 being the only ones left, he has to settle for tapping 6 and cursing under his breath the entire time.

“no fucking way you’re ever cuddling with someone else, that’s a sacred thing, y’know? meant for people that are dating — wouldn’t even let you cuddle with cousin, shit is nasty.”

“i know, baby, i wouldn’t cuddle with anyone else but you anyway,” you kiss his cheek before looking back at your screen and waiting to see the last one.

“man, i fucking hate this game,” he groans, seeing he has to now put an eye to eye hug at number 5. “first of all, who the fuck is hugging eye to eye anyway?! second of all, why are you even doing all that?” he’s asking as if you’re actually doing this other people, “looking into their eyes and shit, fucking a little creepy, hello!”

“so you don’t mind it being a five?”

“fuck that shit, that shit is definitely a ten, but well, there’s nothing i can do about it now!” he looks flabbergasted at the whole “dilemma”, running a hand over his short hair, “fucking, what the hell, why are you hugging other guys like that, baby? really? why you gotta have-“

“i’m not actually doing any of this, richie,” you defend yourself, but your boyfriend just mocks your reply with ease, making you smack his chest.

“no, my man isn’t allowed to hug other people, so all of that shit is a hard ten. i’ve changed my mind,” he finalizes, now speaking to the camera. you’re satisfied with that ending, hitting the button to stop the recording and bringing your phone down to your eye level.

“thank you for entertaining me, richie,” you murmur against his skin, now watching over the video and smiling to yourself at the result, “you’re adorable,” you kiss his chest through his hoodie and he just squeezes you tighter.

“most annoying one you’ve asked me to film yet, can’t believe that’s even a thing,” he leans his cheek onto the top of your head and rests there comfortably while you both watch over the video, “hey, you’d never let another guy catch you in a hug, right?”

you laugh, looking up at him and playing with his short stubble, “never, baby, that’s why i got you,”

“damn straight,” he murmurs, leaning down and kissing you softly, “tell all your silly followers that we’re married while you’re at it,”

“they’re not the ones hugging me like that, richie,” you chuckle, but don’t miss a beat in making the caption something adjacent to what he had told you.

“so there’s other people hugging you like that, though?”

“no? oh my god, you’re giving me a headache,”

“and you’ve just broken my heart, so well, fuck both of us then.”

that night your tiktok blew up and a lot of people were commenting over how cute your guys’ relationship is and how entertaining richie is, as well as cutely, aggressively protective. you made it up to him by buying him dinner with the money you had made off of the video, to which he half-heartedly said, “if that shit gets us to eat dinner like this every week, doll, i’ll film all the tiktacs you want,” and he’s sealing that promise with a kiss.

“awww, old man richie still gets a lil jealous <333”

“literally the cutest couple ever, i was waiting for you to get him to hop on this trend!!”

“not the death threat over the one arm hug LMAOAO”

“richie does nooott play, swear to god i’ve heard rumors he always stay strapped im ltr deeaaadddd”

#the bear x reader #the bear x male reader #richie jerimovich x male reader #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich imagines #richie jerimovich one shot #richie x male reader #richie x reader #richie the bear imagines #richie the bear x reader #richie the bear x male reader #richie jerimovich the bear #the bear fx imagines #the bear imagines #male reader #x male reader

70 notes · View notes