#need to make it more clear!! i will one day
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
#INTRO2MUNCH101
summ. when suguru “eat it off the bone” geto actually turns out to be suguru “flaps the left lip until she calls it a night” geto, he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew about his skills. . . talk about a rude awakening.
cw. explicit content. foul language. fem!reader. college!au. eventual smut (but not in the way you think. . .) mild modern lingo. allusions to music artists. cunningulūs. male masturbation. reader has a belly piercing. she’s also depicted mean by the boys. gojo cameos bc i can’t not mention him. tattoo artist!geto. substance consumption. lowkeyyy self-indulgent reader. 10k wc.
rena's note. this is a spin-off to p power, so i’d suggest reading that first to understand the correlation!
suguru geto is a simple man.
your pleasure is his pleasure. he’s always prided himself on being a pro at the art of cunningulus. honest— he’s always left with swollen lips, a heavily sprayed face and a solid five star ratings at the end of his work. his jaw feels tired out, scalp burning from consistent hair tugs, and his breathing uneven from lack of oxygen. but at the feel of plush thighs squeezing his face and the repetition of his name flowing into the air before getting squirted on, he remembers it’s always worth it.
no pain no gain, right?
wrong.
because here he finds himself, a hefty hour in since he first dove in between your soft legs, and there’s been absolutely no development. sprawled on your back on his sheets, arm slung over your eyes, and your breathing even. you look fucking bored, and his heart is sinking to his ass.
geto will use every trick he has in the book. he’s noticed overtime that girls have different bodies, therefore he needs different tactics to stimulate those bodies. he nips at your puffy bud, sucking on your clit for external pleasure. no use. fine, then he’ll push your thighs up some more for a deeper penetration of his fingers in your cunt— still no use. the only sounds being produced are his mouth slipping against his own saliva at your pussy because he can’t even get you wet enough.
the pit in his stomach grows larger. he wonders if maybe you’re just the silent type? he’s come across those before.
he’s getting nervous out of his mind, so shaky and uncoordinated that his hand slips and meets your lips for the umpteenth time— and only then do you release a guttural groan, the very first sound you’ve made in a long ass time. wait—
“did. . . did you cum?” he pants, pulling his sticky lips away from yours. his face feels moist, blood rushing all in his head and he’s lightheaded. but still, he has to know.
you push yourself up to your elbows, annoyance clear as day. he’s yet to seen this look on a girl after pulling every card known on the table, “yeah. . . to the wrong fucking house.”
oh fuck.
☆ ☆ ☆
he first spotted you chatting it up with your friends on the school’s soccer field, on a random tuesday afternoon, and he’s been hooked on you ever since.
the universe played a funny game, and he realized university truly is a small ass world. amongst your friends, he noticed a familiar face. one he’s been hearing and seeing of one too many times lately, on multiple separate and traumatic occasions— gojo’s girlfriend. suguru found himself bonding with her due to their familiar point of interest— that being gojo— and believes he can now make of her a friend.
geto watches his best friend’s eyes shimmer and he flashes his infamous million dollar smile. he really is obsessed with his girlfriend and she doesn’t even know— and geto finds himself wishing he had somebody he’d be this ecstatic over. must be nice.
“i’m gonna go say hi to my girl real quick,” gojo taps at his shoulder, and geto nods. he’s cool on it, he’ll wait back here until he’s done, or can make his way to his next class depending on whatever gojo and his girlfriend arrange. “you comin’?”
“i’m probably gonna head to our next lecture.” geto voices out, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. he feels gojo peeking over his shoulder, in which he assumes to verify if that would be necessary.
over forty-five minutes. damn it.
“that’s mad pointless, class doesn’t start till more than half an hour,” gojo says, and geto doesn’t see himself waiting around that long for a lecture. no way, “just come— her friends are chill.”
fuck it, he goes. naturally, gojo is all over his girl and her friends expect it. geto does give them a little wave when gojo introduces him. one of the girls mention having heard of him through a friend— something about a failed talking stage. mad federal, and the sheepish chuckle geto offers when you give him an unreadable look makes him want to crawl into a ditch.
so now you think he’s a whore. awesome.
and gojo’s smirk definitely doesn’t help him out. he doesn’t help out at all actually, so enamoured by his girlfriend that he leaves geto to fend for himself against a pack of wolves (read: nosy girls). he replies only when spoken to, nods when necessary and throws in a few “that’s crazy,” to which the girls fail to pick up he’s out of words to say.
well, everyone except you.
you’re quiet. in fact, the whole time, you haven’t said shit to him. you sit back and observe, occasionally typing on your macbook, or reapplying your lip combo. you didn’t have any words to say to him. even when your friends would talk to you, you gave them short answers and went back to listening to whatever was playing in your airpods. he could tell from that small interaction alone, you were the mean one out of your clique.
and fuck if that didn’t make him want you more. there was just something about mean women that made him want to break through their fake ass exteriors and watch them turn all soft and chummy for him.
blame it on his corruption kink.
gojo confirms his thoughts when they’re finally on their way to class. he kissed his girl goodbye and waved off her friends, to which they all (minus you) collectively cooed, “byeee gojooo!” which he found odd, but kept silent. he gave them a small nod before following his best friend.
they’re a few steps in the science building when the words slip before he can help it, ultimately cutting gojo’s rambling off, “yo, who was that girl?”
gojo glances at him before chuckling, “there was like seven of ‘em. which one?”
“the quiet one.”
it throws him off guard when gojo laughs hard. like, really hard. it attracts the attention of bystanders, who give him a crazy look but gojo ignores. as if they’d try to press him about his volume— the two were pretty adored around campus.
geto does find his reaction quite interesting, to which he cocks a brow and offers a chuckle of his own, “what?”
“oh, you definitely mean y/n,” when his laughter dies down, he finally answers. he lifts his shades to his hairline to swipe a tear. “she’s mean as fuck, bro.”
“right?!” geto laughs, tapping at gojo’s shoulder. it only charges gojo’s laughing fit back up, “i could tell from her vibe. she gives off those ‘men ain’t shit’ girlies on twitter. whole time, she’s probably laid up in bed with one.”
“you don’t even knowww,” gojo holds his shoulder and shakes him a bit. geto does in fact know, because he’s dealt with girls like her before. they’re always a good ass time. “she does men dirty. like, absolutely dogs them. heard one phone call too many.”
oh? even better than he expected. she’s probably the type that used to love hard before getting her heart trampled on and decided to seek revenge on all men. like, on some jennifer’s body shit. geto can’t help but smirk, “lemme see for myself. put me on.”
gojo falters in his step. his grip on geto’s shoulders loosen and his expression changes— not by much, but the once lighthearted smile switches to a skeptical one, “you serious?”
geto lets out a soft sigh, shrugging gojo’s hands off his shoulders. “don’t start asking too much. i did a favour for you and your girl, didn’t i?,” well, technically speaking it wasn’t like his comment had been the deciding factor for the two, but it did open gojo’s eyes. “you owe me one.”
“i don’t owe you shit,” gojo laughs, throwing his arm around geto anyways, “buuut you’re my boy and i’m not stingy. i’ll see what i can do, i know you’ve been getting a lil jealous of wifey and i.”
“shut the fuck up.” geto’s chuckles contradict his statement.
from that point on, it’s smooth sailing. gojo texts his girl asking if she’s seeing anybody. they have a little back and forth because his girlfriend assumes he’s asking for himself— which gojo gets all dramatic and throws geto under the bus for free. welp! it all worked out anyway since after he and gojo parted, you’d thought he was fine shyt. judging from your character, he doesn’t exactly take gojo’s words for what they are.
but he’ll take the opening, it’s as good as any.
time to plot.
☆ ☆ ☆
the second encounter was purely coincidental. and simultaneously embarrassing.
see, geto prides himself on his mysterious act— granted he was anything but. people see all that is gojo and automatically assume that geto has to be the cool one. it creates a perfect balance, no?
haven’t people heard of birds of a feather flock together?
so yes, he’s also a nerd. he typically enjoys spending his wednesday afternoons at dice board cafes because why not. it’s a chill, lowkey joint right off campus and not a lot of people gravitate towards, therefore the perfect spot to camp out before his evening lecture.
besides, his buddy choso works there and it gets him discounts. it isn’t the only reason he shows up, but it does help a lot on his pockets. being a student is awful, financially.
geto sips on his choco latte through a straw, browsing through the board games pamphlet as he decides what he’s going to play today. most of these games are pretty pointless if he doesn’t have an opponent, but he likes to think it helps develop his iq. he hears avenoir playing through the cafe and knows choso’s on aux.
who else could be playing this toxic ass shit?
he’s torn choosing between snakes and ladders or chess when he hears chimes at the front door, signalling somebody’s entered the establishment. he doesn’t think much of it, going on about minding his business when he hears choso say your name.
the latte enters the wrong tube and he chokes.
geto collects himself quickly, wiping any stray liquid past his mouth as his head snaps up. you’re propped up against the counter, and though he can’t see your face, he definitely recognizes your build. . . okay, yeah that sounds fucking pervy but if he stalked your page a few times, who’s business is it but his own? it’s not like you’d know. granted, he had got caught up liking one of your older photos but he took the like right back!
he debates on walking up to you. how would that even work without seeming desperate? you’ve been checking out all of his boxes so far— your face, body and attitude (question mark) are all tens. he does want to get to know you— at least be somebody in your life. but damn, why is he overthinking this? all he has to get up there and sweet talk you. he’s done this shit before.
“yo, suguru!”
shit.
purple orbs shift towards where his name was called, and lo and behold, there stands choso. and naturally, you look back to who was summoned, but god— social media does not do your face justice. he last seen you about a week ago, and had nothing but your instagram and his memory to rely on.
he makes his way to the counter and ignores you. doesn’t spare you a glance once— though he stands right at your side and watches you watching him through his peripheral. he nods at choso, “what’s up?”
choso, ever the genius, flicks his eyes between geto and you, before clearing his throat, “shoko just texted— somethin’ about a new client. how’s the studio looking?”
“booked all week,” geto answers truthfully, and he notices you’ve shifted your gaze, “little to no openings. why though?”
choso hums, jolting down online orders into a little notebook, “not even for a special friend?”
geto squints his eyes at that. there isn’t anybody he’d call a special friend that hasn’t already been booked or wouldn’t have his number to squeeze in an appointment. granted, he is a dnd warrior but even his friends know of that quirk of his, “depends. who’s the special friend?”
“me.” and he feels his heart skip a beat. fuck. he tilts his head over to the side, and good lord, your face card gave every girl on campus runs for their money. seriously, your facial features complimented you in a way that told aphrodite— the textbook definition of beauty— to go fuck herself, and hard.
“oh?” geto cocks a brow, and lets his eyes roam up and down your frame. shameless, yes, but he has a reputation to uphold. your rest in face makes his own look like child’s play, “didn’t realize we were on special friends basis.”
you click your tongue, “didn’t realize we were on lurking spam accounts but pretend we don’t exist the next day basis either,” you quip right back, picking at the white bow glued to your acrylics.
sassy. geto chuckles, now fully turning his body around to face you. you match his movements, and he toys with a ring on his middle finger, “guess you got me all figured out,” he pauses, shifting his gaze to choso, who’s already eyeing him. “sounds like you wanted me to reach out.”
“boy please,” you scoff, pausing your nail inspection. you let your hand hang, “you choked earlier because you heard my name. that corny nonchalant act isn’t the flex you’re thinking it is,” a huff escapes your lips, and geto feels blood rushing to his face. “your lurking ass was months deep into my page just a week ago— did you find any men ain’t shit vibes from the photo dump?”
choso stifles a laugh, and when geto looks at him, it dies into a cough. well damn, you really didn’t hold anything back. read him like a book actually— and it doesn’t help that gojo can’t keep his mouth shut for shit. it widens the grin on his face. he thinks he likes you.
“well,” geto smirks, “can’t say i have— means there’s still an opening.”
you furrow your brows, “oh? an opening to what exactly?”
“an appointment, of course,” he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. his locks are getting in his face, but the messy look always gets him compliments. might as well shoot his shot, “you know. . .” leaning his chin into the palm of his hand, “for a special friend.”
his double entendre definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by you. he watches how, despite the mean mugging, there’s a glint of mischief in your eyes. you’re squinting just slightly, almost as if you were weighing out the pros and cons. geto won’t break the eye contact first— he’s on a mission. he hopes the tired eyes look will be on his side this time.
tattoo or dick appointment— he would one hundred percent make an opening for you. anything to get his hands on your body.
“are we still talking about the tattoo parlour or . . .”
both you and he turn to choso, who’s watching the situation unfold. just count on him to ruin the mood, whether the obliviousness was feigned or not. choso tightens his brows at the look geto shoots him, “what?”
“i’m gonna head out,” you grab at your handbag, hopping of the seat. nicely played choso. you gather your items and slip them in your purse, sliding a few bucks across the counter. choso grabs the bills and stick them in the tip jar, nodding at her. “catch you in poly sci?”
“if you don’t skip again.” choso snorts and you flip him off, slinging your bag over your shoulder. you turn on your heel and make your way towards the exit, ultimately dismissing geto. that doesn’t feel too nice, he should probably stop that bad habit.
he rises to his feet before he can help it. his hand grabs at your wrist and notices how much smaller it seems in comparaison to his, and he hates the next words that leave his mouth, “what about me?”
you glance down at his hold on you, before looking back up at him, “what about you?” your face says everything your lips haven’t— you’re getting the ick.
he wants to wince. okay, yeah that was corny, “when do i get to see you?”
you drag out a mini hum, your gaze dancing over his silver chain around his collarbone, “dunno. you have my socials so i assume in the next hour.”
he tilts his head to the side, and the pad of his thumb grazes over your smooth skin. he doesn’t fail to notice the way your hand stiffens under his touch, “so if i slide in your dms in the next hour, i can expect an answer?”
a snort leaves your chest, and he can’t tell if it’s a condescending one or an amused one. what he does know, however, is that he’s going to be seeing you sometime soon. you take your hand back into your possession before laying it in the dead centre of his chest, pushing him back just slightly, “i’ll see you around, geto.”
his eyes trail over your figure, every step you take out of the establishment, slightly starstruck by the entirety of you— your boldness. the thrill he was beginning to feel felt like a high. he hasn’t met anybody this entertaining in a while.
“you’re so fucking corny.” he thinks he hears choso insult him from behind. he doesn’t pay him any mind, despite the middle finger that tips towards the ceiling. partynextdoor blasts in the cafe, specifically freak in you, and he hates how he finds himself relating to the lyrics,
room full of beautiful women but he only wants one.
☆ ☆ ☆
“you stalking me, pretty?”
“sure,” you nod your head, raking through the items on the clothing rack. you don’t spare him a single glance, picking a top off the rack and inspecting it, “if stalking means visiting the busiest thrift store on the busiest hour in the busiest city.”
geto lets out a small laugh, shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargos. you make him feel like a nuisance, like he’s a pest wasting your time. ironic, seeing as he wasn’t that much of a bother just last night, when you’d been indulging him in your inbox, “of course you’re the thrifting type.”
you pause your actions, price tag in your fingers as you side eye him through locks of your hair, “and you’re not?”
“didn’t mean it in a bad way, sweetheart.” geto shrugs, pulling off a cropped baby tee and bringing towards you. it has sequins sewn in the material, the gems writing out juicy couture. “this would suit you— belly piercing and whatnot.”
the top is cute, there was no denying so. a pretty shade of pink that suited your complexion, but letting his ego inflate bigger than it already was out of the question. he could tell your thought process from the judgmental look you offered, “oh god—you’re one of those fake ass, streetwearing fashionistas, aren’t you?”
geto blinks a few times, before letting out a sincere laugh. he’s been called a multitude of things before, but that one was new, “you got all that from me suggesting you buy this juicy couture tee? don’t all girls fiend over this vintage shit?”
“it’s that corny ass personality of yours,” you grab the shirt, throwing it in your cart. he wants to make a comment on that, but you beat him to the chase, “the phoney nonchalant act, the streetwear, your insta aesthetic— you’re so scripted.”
“my insta aesthetic?” he repeats, and doesn’t miss a step to catch up to you. your hands are back on the handle of your shopping cart, and if the way his elbows bump into your shoulders bothers you, you don’t make point in commenting on it. “who’s the lurker now, hm?”
you roll your eyes, pushing the strolley ahead, “don’t let it get to your big ass head. your feed screams you’re those toxic ass brent faiyaz wannabes,” he watches your fingertips rake through more clothings that pass your way, before you shoot him a glance, “let me guess— he showed on your spotify wrapped.”
his silence speaks volumes, and you click your tongue, “see? scripted.”
“and what about you?” geto counters when you make a pit stop. you pull away from your cart when a denim skirt catches your eye. you lift the skirt up to your eyes, before looking over your shoulder, cocking a brow.
“what about me?”
“the tweet reposts, the song choices for your highlights, the whole spiritual baddie persona,” he presses behind you, his chest meeting your back. he rests his chin atop your head, purple eyes landing on the clothing article that’s lowering in your hold, “if my page gives brent then yours definitely gives jhene.”
you’re mute for a second, and you chuck the skirt into the cart. you pull away from beneath him, spinning on your feet to face him, and you’ve got a scowl on your lips, “what’s wrong with jhene?”
“and you call me the toxic one.” geto pokes at your cheek. you swipe his hand away, and he laughs, “don’t get me wrong though— she makes good music. but let’s not act like she’s all innocent either,” his gaze lowers to your glossy lips, the fullness of the pair hypnotic, “a real freak. should i call you my pussy fairy?”
“do not,” you reply, weaving around him to make your way back to your cart. geto laughs, snatching a few things of the racks before dumping them in your stuff. you give him a deadpanned look and he whistles it off, feigning ignorance. “jhene’s a lovergirl. thought i was part of the men ain’t shit community.”
“you’re not gonna let that go, are you?” geto sighs. he owes gojo another thump in the head.
you roll your eyes, “thank your homeboy for that.”
“two things can be true at once,” geto fiddles with the hem of his jacket. he’s back at walking step by step with you, and you haven’t told him to fuck off yet, so he’s going to milk the opportunity out. “you’re mean but a lovergirl. you hate men but a real freak with them. right or wrong?”
you halter in your steps, and geto’s now a few steps ahead of you, so he looks over his shoulder to meet your bored expression, “i know you’re not trying to read me in the middle of value village.”
“no better time than the present,” he smiles, one that creases a dimple in his cheeks. “come on up— what are you waiting for?”
you stare at him some more, inhaling sharply, “mind you, i never invited you to join me,” you shake your head but comply regardless. cute, looks like you’re enjoying his company more than you’re letting on.
so he graces you his presence some more. he shops along with you, sneaks clothes into your cart when you’re distracted and asks you stupid questions. it’s a good time— to him at least, being able to get to know you some more without interruptions. naturally, you feign that his company is the bane of your existence, but he doesn’t miss the twitch of your lips when he taps his card into the reader at the check out.
hell yeah he’s got money to spend and is willing to show off if it means getting on your good side.
it’s only after he helps you bag your shit into your car, that he realizes this is where the both of you part ways. it annoys him slightly, but he doesn’t need to overstep his boundaries. he closes your trunk and makes his way to the driver’s side, where you’re already buckled up.
he taps at your window and the glass rolls down all the way, to which he leans forward. he’s in your line of sight now and you sigh, tilting your head sideways, “what?”
“do i get a goodbye kiss?” geto teases, honest, the boyish smirk he offers accentuating the playful undertone. the last thing he expects is you shifting in your seat, pushing yourself up and peaking your head out the window.
his smirk drops, brows jumping to his hairline. you’re really fucking close now, and for a split second he thinks you’re actually going to do it. he can see the flecks of colours swimming in your orbs, the tip of your nose bumps into his and your breath fans his cupid’s bow.
fuck, you smell really good. he bets you taste even better. his mouth is running dry, mindlessly darting his tongue out to wet his own lips. he doesn’t realize he’s let himself lean into your space, eyes narrowing on your mouth parting over his.
he’s pulled out of his trance when two fingers press at his forehead and push. he blinks his lashes, snapping back to reality as you sit back into your seat. you look amused— as if you’d played the funniest game right in his face and he’d been the star player.
“i’ll see you around, geto.”
and you drive off.
☆ ☆ ☆
“come back in a few weeks for a checkup. we’ll make sure the healing process is running smoothly. i’ll catch you soon.”
he lets out a tired sigh when the door finally closes, slumping into his seat and shuts his eyes. he’s exhausted— having woken up early for lectures and labs to back to back appointments with clients. this time around, the parlour is always booked and busy. students find it the perfect timing to get tatted to let it heal before showing it off in the summer.
it’s smart for them but idiotic for him. midterms are up, and the only time he has to study is in between appointments. he slides off his gloves and drags his seat towards his desk, redirecting his attention focus towards the blinding screen.
he feels a headache building at his temple, sipping at his iced coffee to keep him energized. contradicting, sure, but you didn’t have the luxury to be a beggar and a chooser when you were a full time student. the parlour he ran resided in his loft apartment, on the second floor. he enjoyed the comfort of his own home, spacious room and wide windows compared to outside stores.
his cat, nanako, purrs at his feet and he feels his heart swell. if there was one weakness he had in this world, it’d be her. he picks her up from the floor, presses her at his rib cage and nuzzles his nose in her fur.
“hi baby,” geto coos, and nanako lets out a sound. he continues to coddle her, fluffing her fur and rubbing at her ears, “it’s been pretty lively in here, hasn’t it? i knowww,” he coos, and as if nanako understands his words, she makes a pitiful sound that slightly shatters his heart.
geto decides to place her on his lap, her company serving plenty of motivation as he rolls back to his desk. he grabs the remote to his built-in speakers, turning the volume higher, before locking back in. exams are full of crap, and words are starting to jumble on his screen— he’s beginning to contemplate if this education shit is even worth the stress.
he’s an hour deep in jolting notes down on his ipad when he hears a knock at his front door. he scrunches his brows and glances at his agenda— he isn’t due for an appointment until another few hours. he sits it out, starting to believe he’d maybe imagined the sound. he knows it isn’t gojo since he’s celebrating an anniversary with his girl, and any other friend would’ve called to let him know they’re outside.
probably some jehovah witness shit, he thinks to himself, fingers hovering over his speaker remote to crank the volume back up. he turns back to his laptop screen, petting nanako mindlessly when his ipad flashes an instagram notification.
yourstruly.yn: open up
he jumps to his feet, chair rolling back. nanako flies to his desk, landing on all fours as she hisses at him for his suddenness. geto grabs her and kisses her ear, “sorry baby,” before sitting her on the floor. she walks off to her mini bean bag right at the foot of his desk, and he senses an attitude coming from her.
damn, he’d forgotten he squeezed you in last night in the midst of his sweet talking. that was truly a stupid move, he was already behind on studying, and because he likes to think with his head instead of his actual head, he’d fall even further behind.
he checks around the flat— picks up stray wrappers and fixes throw pillows, arranges his sheets. he was a clean man for the most part— he had been so distracted with his studies that there wasn’t much to dirty in the first place. his candles had already been lit so he knew the place smelled fine. he’s pretty positive his loft is clean enough to leave a good first impression.
he fixes loose hairs and straightens out his hoodie and sweats. thank fuck he’d showered not too long ago— he’s beginning to understand why his mother was always so insistent on being clean in case of random pop ups.
when he does finally open the door, there you stood. it was pretty chilly outside this time around, so he wasn’t surprised by the harsh wind flowing in and the clutch of your coat in your hold. your nose began reddening, and you sniffled, scowling from the cold.
you’re so cute, he sends you a smile, “hey.”
“hi,” you replied, sniffling again. “you ever planning on letting me in?”
“dunno,” he crosses his arms over his chest. he leans against the doorframe, ignoring the way he was starting to feel the frosty wind setting in his bones, “maybe if you ask nicely.”
you shoot him a deadpanned look, “move.”
“no.” geto smiles, “try again.”
“move, now.” a small pout is starting to form on your lips. he really liked testing your patience, since it always seemed to run low. you must’ve met your match— because geto always had time to fuck around.
“close, but not quite.”
“oh my goddd,” you groan, and that’s when he decides to let up. it really is colder than a bitch outside and he’d already kept you waiting while tidying up. he lets out a chuckle when you turn to the side, “i’m leaving— too damn cold for this.”
“alright, i’m playing,” geto widens the door. you stop your movements and glare at him. he aims an arm towards the inside of his loft, “don’t go, come in.”
you grumble something beneath your breath but comply, walking right past him. he follows behind you, shutting the door close and is immediately greeted back with warmth. you slip your shoes off and place them on the rack, before stepping in further into his apartment.
he slides his hands into his sweatpants’ pockets, catching up to you in the living room. your head is tilted upwards as you inspect the place though you remain in place. he stands beside you, bumping his shoulder into your arm, “so? up to your standards?”
you’re quiet for a while, letting your eyes roam around as the words build in your mind, “it’s typical,” you shrug but don’t elaborate. you’ve been staring at an art piece he’d done first year when he was fried out of his mind. you shift your gaze back to him, “where do i put my shit?”
“you can leave it in my bedroom, if that’s fine.” geto suggests and you nod wordlessly, to which he leads you to the second floor. he’s walking up the stairs and prays he doesn’t fall flat on his face— his socks can be a real bitch sometimes.
you both make it to his bedroom, with you trailing a little behind. he grabs a hanger from his mobile clothing rack, stretching an arm out to you, “i’ll hang your jacket here.”
you slide off the coat from your frame and hand it to him, to which he hangs on the rack. you circle around his bedroom with your tote on your shoulder, while he makes his way back to next to his desk. it’s pretty quiet for the most part, besides the music playing gently in the background.
your gaze lands on the cluttered items on his desk, noticing the half empty cup of coffee, notebooks and ipad on display, “did i catch you at a bad time?”
“honestly? yeah,” geto shrugs, before motioning at your tote bag. you slip it off and hand it to him, to which he sits at his nightstand, “but it’s my fault anyway, i squeezed you in a busy time. you know how exam season gets.”
“i can always reschedule,” you offer, checking your phone screen for the date, “it’s not that deep.”
“i don’t want you to leave,” geto slumps back into his seat and heaves out a sigh. he spins the chair around to catch you giving him a flat look. he leans back in his seat and spreads his thighs, smirking, “would you stay?”
“depends. are you going to be studying?” you quip, crossing your arms back to your chest.
geto ponders on what to say next. it’s not like he doesn’t want to tatt you up, but he really is caught in a bind. he also doesn’t want you to leave— not when he’s been wanting to see you since the last time he’d seen you. does he prioritize his wants or his needs?
he hums, “i’ll do whatever you want me to.”
you roll your eyes, scoffing as you make your way to his nightstand. for a second, he thinks you’re getting ready to leave and a weird feeling of disappointment settles in his gut. instead, you grab the bag and sit on the edge of his bed, pulling out your macbook and crossing your legs.
he smiles at that, “attagirl.”
“corny.” you mumble, chewing on your bottom lip as you begin typing away.
there’s a comfortable silence that fills the room. he’s back to browsing through his lecture notes, noting down valuable information and memorizing terminology. you don’t say anything either, but the sound of your nails typing at your keyboard blends well with his r&b playlist playing. sounds like you’re writing down an essay or report, depending on whatever your major is.
about half an hour into the silence, does he decide to break it. he looks over his shoulder to where you’re settled on his bed, “you good?” he checks up on you, and you let out a burnt out sigh. he knows exactly how you’re feeling.
“i guess,” you huff, twirling your necklace. your eyes are stuck on your screen, brows creasing into a scowl, “this shit is frying my brain though.”
“what are you writing?” he indulges, dropping his apple pen back onto his desk and spins in his seat to face you. maybe he’s also in due of a break— he’d rather be talking to you anyway.
“this crim report,” you answer, picking at your nail, “it’s not exactly hard but mad lengthy. i have to write a ten page report based on this article and how it contradicts societal norms.”
“ten pages?” geto whistles, rubbing at his chin. he’s settled deeper in his seat, naturally manspreading. you’re much better than him, he would’ve given up before even starting— reports were not his thing, “how far are you in?”
“i started this morning,” you hum, “so i’m four pages in.”
geto nods, “and when is it due?”
“tomorrow night.” you push your laptop off your lap. you close the screen shut and stretch out your legs, releasing a breathy moan as you relax your thighs. “i’ll do this shit later— my head’s starting to hurt.”
geto swears he’s never been so in sync in thought. he dismisses the idea of studying the second you had closed your macbook. probably a bad idea but at the moment, he couldn’t care any less, “want some entertainment?”
you cock a brow, “don’t say no stupid shit.”
“twenty one questions,” geto speaks nonetheless and finds himself beaming brightly when you scoff, “can’t a guy want to get to know you better?”
you ease yourself on his bed, slumping into his sheets as you exhale. you shift onto your side— a sinful curve at your side— tucking your knees and lean your head into your palm, “oh fuck off,” a breathless laugh and nanako makes her presence known, hopping right by you in the space between your body and the edge of the bed, “didn’t know you had a cat. she’s cute.”
“how’d you know she was a she?” geto wonders, surprised just slightly by how welcoming nanako was around you. she purred when you stroke at her fur, nuzzling further into your chest. nanako hated everyone— especially gojo, who unironically visited the most.
“instinct,” you shrugged but there’s a faint smile on your lips. not directed towards him, but his baby, “i also have a cat— he’s a fucking menace though.”
that’s one thing in common already, “like mother like son,” geto grins lazily when you flip him off mindlessly, and when you raise nanako in both your hands, he’s ready to warn you she isn’t a big fan of sudden movements— but when she mewls, the same sound she makes when geto brings home a new toy, the words die down in his throat.
he observes you both silently. you cradle nana as if she were a newborn infant, adoring and loving yet simultaneously careful and steadily. you’re cooing, calling her a sweet girl and rubbing at her ear, and nanako accepts you rather easily— too easily.
“woah.” was this those non-sexual turn ons people spoke about? for somebody so mean, you were oddly gentle with pets. he liked that— really liked that, so much that he pulls his phone out and snaps a photo of you two. but of course, because the universe loves to see him fumble, the flash goes off.
your head snaps to the side and he freezes. you narrow your eyes at him, slowly lowering nanako, “did you just—”
“so!” geto cuts you off, chucking his phone back onto his desk. it makes a loud cluttering sound, damn near knocks his drink all over, but ignores it, “my turn. what’s your cat’s name?”
“milo. and don’t cut me off—”
“milo the menace,” he cuts you off regardless, not wanting to have to decipher just what exactly possessed him to do that. he’s never done so, and he wasn’t about to explain why he’d done it just now. deflecting king! “i need to see the little guy. got any pics?”
you huff, extending a hand behind you to find your phone. when you clutch onto the device, you swing your legs off the bedside, always careful with nanako clinging to your lap. you lay her down on the floor, much to her dismay, before making your way towards him.
his eyes are stuck on your body before his mind can tell him to stop. not like it mattered much, your own eyes glued to your phone screen as you searched for the pictures he’d asked. you’ve got a matching tracksuit on— though the hoodie is cropped, thus exposing your navel piercing. he’d always had a thing for those, the pretty good jewel dangling below the button.
it didn’t help that your thong straps sat atop your waist.
he spreads his legs further open, and you stop right in between. for a moment, you’re stuck on your phone, and geto really wants to get those thighs straddling him. you look delectable— he’d pin your knees to your damn ears, sprawled on your back, and eat you out until you pleaded him to stop.
your hair was pulled back into a bun, and from this angle, he spotted scripture at the column of your neck. there was wording inked in arabic, and he made a mental note to ask you what it meant later.
geto leans back into his seat when you fold forwards, and he gets a good whiff of your vanilla scented perfume, tingling his senses in the best way, “found it?”
you nod your head, swiping through your gallery, “yeah, my bad,” you have a folder named ‘mimi’ and as expected, was filled off candid photos of your cat. he pays attention as you slide your finger on your screen, selfies of you both in the morning passing by.
“cute,” he isn’t talking about the cat, and his gaze flicks from the screen to your face. there’s still a considerate amount of space between you both, but he can see your eye colour much clearer this close up. you blink your lashes at him and he smirks, “anything else you wanna show me?”
you sniff, “don’t be gross.”
“i meant of milo,” geto definitely didn’t mean of milo. you cock a brow skeptically, and he mirrors the look, though the smile on his face grows, “what a cute lil thing,” his voice lowers and his words trail off. there’s a beat of a pause for a while, and his gaze falls on the plumpness of your lips, “you gonna let me pet your kitty?”
another beat of silence. you’re staring at his lips, and he wonders what you’re thinking. he can tell you’ve picked up on what he’s laying down (hopefully you in the next few minutes) but he can’t tell what your next move will be.
“depends. . .” a soft whisper, and he feels your breath fanning over his cupid’s bow. you flick your eyes back at him, and he finally understands the whole siren eyes shit. through lidded eyes, your stare is intense— simultaneously pulling him in closer while pushing him back. you’re toying with him, and the hand he slides up from your thigh to your ass is enough fuel. “you any good?”
he brings a second hand to the other ass cheek, and urges you onto his lap. you comply, looping your arms at the back of his neck. he feels your nails grazing at his scalp and he holds back a lethal shudder. your weight feels amazing against him— his hard on poking and making its presence well aware.
“i’d like to think i am,” he knows he is, but playing humble always goes a long way. he lets his hands run over the cup of your ass, trails back up to your hips, and slides a finger beneath the thong strap. when he snaps the material at your skin, your back arches and you press your chest against his own.
“well,” you exhale when he noses into the crook of your neck, right above your tattoo. he’s littering wet kisses at your hot skin, your taste ever so sweet against his tongue. god, you must taste divine. at your jugular, he’s able to imprint your perfume into his mind. “only one way to find out.”
geto hums at that, relishing in the way you moan at a particular suck, and focus on nibbling at that spot once more. you’re tilting your head for easier access, hips grinding against his own for better friction. your hands are soft and cautious— they trail from his nape down to his chest, and further down to his waistband.
he’s on go, ready for whatever timing you’re on. though, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out by the way your fingertip traces right above his pelvis, that you’re both on the same page. he drags his lips from the column of your neck up to your jaw, and stops right above your parted lips.
he has another cocky remark on the tip of his tongue, in typical suguru fashion, but you beat him to the chase, glossy lips pressing against his. the kiss is short and definitely leaves him wanting more when you pull back as soon as you’d leaned in— but you’re a mere centimetre away.
you whisper, not before another kiss, “don’t disappoint me, suguru.”
and he’s never ran into bed so fast.
☆ ☆ ☆
the door slams shut.
he’s left with a painfully hard reminder in his sweats that he fucked up bad. he thinks he dissociated a little between the labia flapping to the coat zipping. it’s only when he notices that instead of hearing lip smacking sounds, he hears bryson tiller’s lame ass (no shade, his ego is simply wounded), that you really left.
fuck.
geto rushes back to his bedroom, the walk of shame up the steps enough to make him want to jump off— as he takes out his phone, immediately goes through his contact list and presses on the name. it rings twice before the call gets picked up.
“yooo!”
“you still busy?” geto asks, voice hoarse as he flops down on the edge of the bed— his now empty bed. damn.
“nah, just dropped off wifey,” gojo replies. he hears music playing faintly in the back, as well as the sounds of honking. he must still be in the car, “why, what’s up?”
“i fucked up.” geto sighs, running a hand over his face.
“oh?” he isn’t surprised to find out gojo’s surprised. he’s still surprised by how the events turned out and it’s barely been ten minutes, let alone five. “say no more, i’m on my way.”
geto hangs up. he throws the phone away, before falling flat onto his bed. he picks up your scent on his sheets, your warmth slowly disappearing— another painful reminder he messed up. where he’s expecting a wet patch of anything on his duvets, he finds nothing. zip. nada.
his eyes fall shut, “shit.”
☆ ☆ ☆
“and that’s pretty much the gist of it all.”
he exhales a cloud of smoke. more silence. geto’s starting to get sick of all this silence. it was radio silence with you and now even more radio silence from gojo. his hand never stops to rub at nanako, who’s been serving as a cuddling partner in this grand moment of crisis. the only person to ever have his back.
so, geto knew that confiding in his best friend this secret of his would be risky for a multitude of reasons. for starters, geto never fucks up. this would be ultimate blackmail content for him, and geto honestly doesn’t blame him. for two, he was just giving gojo shit about never having eaten pussy. that’s just downright humiliating. and for three, he has a girlfriend who he doesn’t keep anything from. on top of that— his girlfriend is friends with the main culprit here.
overall a bad idea. he does it nonetheless, because satoru is his best friend despite it all. he isn’t too shocked when the silence is filled with bellyaching laughter, though.
“wait— i’m cryinggg,” more laughter. gojo’s now kicked his feet off the couch and is doubling forward. his shades bounce off his head and hit the leg of the coffee table. he doesn’t pause his laughing fit one bit, not even when geto throws a throw pillow his way.
it bounces off his big head and geto scoffs, bringing the joint back to his lips, “oh fuck off.”
“my fault man,” gojo apologizes though he doesn’t sound apologetic. he’s leaning forward to grab his shades back, and he’s back to swiping stray tears. “that was a good laugh— shit.”
geto hums at that, extending the blunt towards him,“glad to hear my misery has brought you entertainment.”
“see, you get it!” gojo jokes, welcoming the joint. seems like he got cocky, however, his laughing mood not quite over as he inhales. he quickly chokes on the smoke, which fades back into cackling, “oh shit—”
geto sneers, annoyance quickly rising, “quit fucking around or pass it back.” he was being pissy, yes, but his pride had been curb stomped. and it hadn’t even been an hour ago!
“nah, nah, i’m good,” gojo waves him off, despite his free hand tapping at his chest. he collects himself soon enough, and takes another hit. this time it’s successful. geto lowkey hoped it would get caught in his throat again.
“sooo,” gojo drags out, melting into the couch, “what now.”
“what now?” geto parrots.
“what’s the next move?” gojo elaborates, fingertip tapping at the blunt, and ashes fall into the tray. the end of the stick crumbles in the same way geto’s ego had earlier. “you’re gonna keep letting her think you suck at giving head?”
geto throws his head back and sighs tiredly, “what else is there to do?” he hears the sound of sizzling in the background, “i fumbled bad, bro. you don’t think she already posted about me in her girls’ private story?” more sizzling and exhaling, “i’m the storytime of the day!”
he feels gojo nudge his thigh with his foot. he looks back and the joint is presented to him. he gladly accepts it.
“what even happened?” gojo wonders. and oh boy, if that isn’t the question of the day. geto is still trying to find the answer to that. had it been out of nervousness? had he gotten too cocky? had it been her?
“i honestly wish i could answer that,” geto slips the roach into his mouth. “i didn’t feel nervous until after i realized she wasn’t fazed,” he drags out a hit and ghost inhales, “maybe it was a sign from above— to shut the fuck up sometimes.”
“maybe,” gojo snorts, throwing his legs over geto’s lap. nanako hisses at the intrusion, but the white haired man ignores her, “don’t let yourself go out sad like this. hit her back up— whatever happened to loving challenges?”
“what kind of fucked up ass challenge is this?” geto mumbles, mainly to himself.
“if i was in your shoes— which i’d never be,” because he’s gojo, he feels the need to add, “i’d put my pride aside and talk to her. like no homo shit, but you’re a great eater— yeah, no, i’m taking that back instantly.”
geto looks as horrified as he feels, “quickly, even.”
of course, gojo laughs but proceeds, “the point is, you know you’re good at it. everybody fucks up once in a while— don’t let it define you though. think of it as a minor setback for a major comeback— if you care enough, you’ll put your pride aside and do something about it. if you’re this down about it, then it must mean something to you.”
geto can’t tell anymore whether gojo’s talking about the failed pussy eating attempt or you. regardless, he knows there’s truth to his words. has to be the weed talking.
“and who made you the pussy connoisseur?” geto snorts, pressing the bud of his joint in the tray. it sizzles weakly as he kills it, starting to feel that high course through his veins.
gojo sighs dreamily, “why my lovely lady, of course.”
“looks like she taught you well,” geto relaxes himself into the tight space of the couch, settling nanako on his chest. it’s now his turn to nudge gojo with his foot, his sock-cladded toe digging at his jaw. “woulda never expected this from a rookie just a few months ago.”
“well duh,” gojo swipes his foot away, “i aced that course. got my phD in cunningulusophy and all. even won valedictorian.”
geto laughs, resting his lids. he was starting to feel sleepy, indica will do that to you, “enroll me in whatever class you took— i may need to slut myself out for extra credit. my prof’s a tough nut to bust.”
“intro to munch 101,” gojo nods his head, shutting his eyes close as well. there’s a comfortable silence that fills the air for a while. and despite the fact that his sight manipulated, he could hear the smirk dripping off his tone, “if you ever need a letter of recommendation, i got you— alumni’s honour.”
“oh fuck off,” a mixed harmony of laughter and vibrating chests.
☆ ☆ ☆
fun fact: suguru geto loves showers.
the aroma of cleanliness enhanced by thick fog. the scorching water droplets trickling down his skin, the vulnerability of his nakedness inside these four walls. he strangely feels most at ease, most raw in this moment of solitude.
he’s able to gather himself too. there isn’t much to accomplish in a shower once you’ve gotten rid of the day’s dirt. so, he likes to take the opportunity to think. to think deep and hard.
his mind’s all scrambled up. it’s been about three days since you were last in his apartment, two days since he’d thought about it, and a day since he last seen you (granted it’d been on your story, virtually, but still).
this has been the biggest feat he’s faced in a while. if he recaps it, this is what’s he gotten: he invited you over. you came the next day. he didn’t cater to you the sole reason you came. you didn’t mind. you both studied for a bit. he asked about your cat. you ended up on his lap. he ended up in bed with you. you ended up leaving with a chunk of his dignity.
that didn’t explain shit, but it did remind him of his failure. it reminded him that he’d finally met his match. it reminded him he needs to start backing his shit up. it reminded him of how good you smelled and tasted down there. it reminded him of how pretty you looked.
his cock twitches and he glances down. it also reminds him he never ended up cumming, too engrossed in his anxiety to jerk one out.
he feels as though the glass doors of his shower protect him from reality. he’s hard, though mortified, but still hard. he’d spent a long time (two days) suppressing the memory away, but there was no way to mistaken your taste on his tongue. how sweet you smelled. how soft you felt—
geto fists at his dick before he can help it. his free hand plants at the wall before him, and he works his wrist. he twists at his shaft slowly and closes his eyes— behind his lids are photographic memories of you on his lap. memories of you on his bed. memories of the scent of your panties. memories of your tits in his mouth.
sure, you’d made more sounds off the foreplay for the foreplay— but that didn’t take away how turned on he’d been. how his dick twitched in his boxers. how he’d humped the mattress. how he’d moan in your cunt.
“y/n,” geto moans your name, sinful yet hushed, his hand working faster. his thumb grazes his over slit and his gut drowns in heat. he wants a redo. he deserves a redo— you deserved a redo. “fuckkkk,”
next time, he’ll get it right. and if he doesn’t, then he’ll want to try again and again and again— until it ends with your cunt clenching around his tongue and his face sprayed vigorously in your essence. until your thighs tremble around his face, your hand clawing at his hair and your back arched off his bed. until his name bounces off his walls and echoes so loudly his neighbours complain.
he wants a redo.
he jerks back as he paints the tiles white. the joints in his hand ache, the water from the shower head getting colder. geto pants heavily, chest heaving as his load is released from him. his cum drips from the wall and into the drain at his feet— but his dick is far from well spent. if he spends another hour in the shower, it’s nobody’s business but his own.
suguru geto loves showers.
☆ ☆ ☆
“oh. you actually showed.”
“redo,” geto pants, having sprinted from his apartment. he’d spent the next three days after his shower incident wallowing some more— at some point, it just annoyed him. though slightly underwhelming, he was on his phone in bed a few minutes ago, going through his camera roll when he’d seen that picture he took of you and nanako. his feet guided him to his car before he could help it. choso helped him out with the address.
“redo?” you parrot his words, leaning against your doorframe. you crossed your arms over your chest, and it’s only then he noticed your appearance— flimsy camisole and pink lace panties. fuck, he wants a redo now.
“i want a redo.” geto repeats, but is quickly hit with a gust of wind. he hadn’t brought a jacket with him in the midst of his impulse, and goosebumps were beginning to form at his skin. he shoots his shot, “you ever planning on letting me in?” talk about deja vu.
“dunno,” you play along, eyes narrowing. “maybe if you ask nicely.”
swallow your pride, he hears gojo somewhere in the back of his mind. he shakes that thought off quickly. this desperation had to be bigger than a pride issue— he was ready to get on his knees and beg her to let him in. pride? that had been drained to the sewers the second he busted all over his shower days ago.
“lemme in and i’ll make it up to you,” geto tries instead, taking a step closer, “please?”
that seemed to be the correct answer as you push open the door to your apartment further. you turn your back and geto lets himself drink up your backside— he hadn’t seen it last time but you had dimples sitting right above your perky ass. he watches your hips sway left and right, and even tilt your head back, a smirk etched on your face, “you comin’?”
you will be, “cute.” his lips twitch into a small smile, and closes the door behind him.
☆ ☆ ☆
fool him once? shame on him.
geto doesn’t allow himself to make the same mistakes twice. if one fuck up is enough to tear him down for a week straight then why the hell would he do it again?
you’re sprawled on your back, legs spread with enough space to fit his body in between. his hands plant on either side of your face, his bulge pushed up against your core. he feels your warmth through these layers of clothes, and he rolls his hips greedily, feeling himself already grow addicted. your chin is raised high, lids blown open as you stare at him all doe-eyed.
his brows pinch in the centre of his forehead. that faux look of innocence you’re offering is doing wonders to his dick. your tits sit beautifully beneath your top, arms back on him as you pull him in closer, and he lets himself fall prey to you. for a moment, the tip of his nose bumps into yours, lips ghosting over the other, hips colliding to meet yours.
“mhm, that’s it.” you let out a sigh, throwing your head back into your pillows. there’s an opening to your neck calling his name, and geto wastes no time to latch his lips there. he slips a hand beneath your tank top, fingernails grazing over your skin to creep up to your mounds. he flicks a thumb over the bud and you sigh blissfully again— he then cups the flesh.
he loves the way you squirm when he kisses down your body, “i got you, pretty,” stripped from your cami, his lips leave open mouthed marks all over your skin. from the column of your neck, to your breasts, down your torso and past your navel, “let me take care of you.” the lower he gets, the more intense your rawness reeks— and it’s a damned good smell.
he lands right above your clothed pelvis, and he inhales sharply. he won’t make the same mistake this time, he can feel it. there’s something lingering in the air, something indescribable— but he’s confident he won’t. because when he skips your cunt in favour to pamper your inner thighs, dragging his wet tongue all over erogenous zones, he spots dampening right where your clit would be.
bingo.
your hand cradles his hair, and the other props your body up by the elbow. he glances up at you, cock throbbing against your mattress. your beauty still renders him speechless— runs his throat dry and makes his tongue feel heavy. he doesn’t want to decipher what this means either, and decides to conclude he’s simply thirsty for you.
“suguru,” you call at him. he blinks and the hand in his hair snakes down his neck, and pushes him deeper. his nose nudges at your throbbing clit, and his tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick at the damp material before he can help it. two fingers hook at your panties and push them to the side, revealing glistening folds. your slick drips between your crack and stains your sheets. he thinks he hears his stomach growl a little.
another swipe of his tongue, this time in contact with the raw you, and a breathless moan rips from you, “don’t disappoint me this time.”
and he feasts.
☆ ☆ ☆
gojo’s woken up to a notification from his phone.
it’s still pretty late— or maybe early, and his pretty girlfriend is miles away in lalaland. she snores softly, cuddling into his side, and gojo’s ready to cuss out whoever dares potentially meddle with his girl’s sleep. he’s starting to get grumpy.
when his phone undergoes face recognition, he lowers the brightness immediately. he swipes through his notification center and notices an attachment sent by geto.
now that peeks his interest. he presses on the message.
suguboo: [1 attachment]
suguboo: passed intro2munch101 with an A+ 🫡
gojo can’t help the laugh that leaves him, though is quickly quieted down when he feels stirring at his side.
“well i’ll be damned.”
yes, gojo is obsessed with his girlfriend. also 10k words on geto???
#rena☆star.#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#geto smut#geto x you#geto suguru x you#jjk smut#jjk oneshot#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#geto oneshot
697 notes
·
View notes
Note
best friend seungcheol whom you have a crush on, but never told him. he doesn't know it either and y'all just bicker all the time as bsf, one day all of it changes when you finally say you found a match on some dating app. he realises it and bam! hot and heavy shit go down.
bitter crush , choi seungcheol x f!reader
SYPNOSIS: your bestfriend doesn’t know you’ve had a crush on him for years, but when you mention matching with someone on a dating app, everything changes.
WARNINGS: smut, fingering, kissing, teasing, mingyu as the failed date lmfao
requests are open, do send some in!!
you’ve been friends with seungcheol since high school, watching each other grow up — first jobs, first kisses, and everything in between, sticking together through the highs and lows. your friendship is built on bickering and teasing each other like it’s second nature. but now, the bickering feels different.
“i matched with someone on that app i told you about,” you say, placing your coffee down on the wooden table of the café you and seungcheol are sitting at.
you’d decided to give a dating app a shot, hoping it would help you take your mind off seungcheol. maybe meeting someone new will help you move on, or at least distract you from the constant thoughts about him. but so far, it’s just more of the same — swiping, chatting, but none of its ever seemed to match the energy you share with him. you might as well move on, since seungcheol has is own hookups and girlfriends, and none of them will ever be you. its frustrating, the way this burning crush for him is always shimmering beneath the surface, gnawing at you. this is going to be the death of you — that’s what you always tell yourself.
“so you’re telling me you’re out here swiping on strangers?” he responds, his voice laced with something you can’t quite place. “what happened to the whole ‘not needing anyone’ thing?”
“it changed.”
“really? that’s weird.” he says, his eyes never leaving you. “thought you were too busy to deal with anyone new.”
you roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. “yeah, well, apparently im not as busy as i thought.”
you’ve never been the type to casually date or get involved with someone just for the sake of it. but lately, things feel different. seungcheol’s always been there — constant, reliable, and annoyingly perfect in his own way — and it’s hard to ignore how your thoughts always circle back to him, no matter how many times you try to push them away. you’ve never said it out loud, never let him in on the truth of how much he’s been occupying your mind, and the idea of dating someone else? it almost feels like a joke. you’re not really here for some random guy who doesn’t know you like he does. but the more you try to distract yourself, the more you realize how little it helps. no matter how many matches you get, no conversation ever seems to compare to the effortless back and forth you share with seungcheol. it’s like you’re chasing something that doesn’t quite exist, and each swipe only makes you feel more frustrated. but you can’t exactly admit that, not to him, not to anyone. so you keep trying, hoping maybe this time will be different, even though you know deep down it won’t be.
“so, who’s this guy?”
you shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. “kim mingyu. he’s nice. we’ve met a few times before, actually — works at that bar down the street.”
seungcheol leans back in his chair, his arms crossed as he watched you. he clears his throat. “just don’t pick some random guy who doesn’t get you, alright?”
“what, are you jealous or something?”
“no.”
the date with mingyu went well. you two got along really great — there was no shortage of conversation, and the chemistry was comfortable. you both enjoyed the meal and found common ground in ways that made the evening feel lighthearted and easy. it was nice, actually, to just relax and enjoy someone’s company without any pressure.
even if the date was good, you and mingyu both agreed that you should just be friends, neither of you feeling the sparks you were hoping for.
you walk into your apartment, slipping off your shoes and placing your keys under the mat. its quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. you head towards the living room, where seungcheol is sprawled on your couch, sorting through the groceries he offered to pick up for you earlier this week.
“you’re back early,” he says, glancing up with a smirk. “thought you were gonna be out all night with your… date.”
you roll your eyes, not really in the mood to talk about it. “it was fine,” you reply, shrugging as you drop your purse on the counter. “nothing special.”
seungcheol raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “really?”
you let out a breath, trying to sound casual. “yeah, well, turns out i’m not as interested as i thought.”
he tilts his head, looking at you like he’s trying to figure you out. “what do you mean?”
you hesitate, leaning against the kitchen counter, fingers tapping against the countertop. “we got along, i guess. but we just decided to be friends.”
“huh.” seungcheol shrugs, clearly unconcerned, though there’s something in the way he watches you that makes you pause. “so you’re saying you don’t feel any connection with him at all?”
you shift, rubbing the back of your neck. “it’s just… not there. but whatever. i’m fine.”
“you sure?” seungcheol presses, his voice dropping an octave, and you can’t help but notice how close he’s sitting now. “because i’m sure someone else would love the chance to—”
“ugh, please.” you cut him off, trying to brush it off. “i don’t need some random guy to be interested.”
he smirks, clearly not buying it. “really? sounds like you do.”
you bite your lip, trying to hold onto your patience, but it’s slipping through your fingers. you know he’s teasing, and usually, you’d laugh it off, but tonight feels different. there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore, something that’s been building for years. frustration bubbles up inside you, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.
“cheol, i like you, okay?” you blurt out, your voice trembling slightly, surprised by how easily it all comes rushing out.
he pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. there’s a moment of silence, and you feel like you’re about to suffocate under the weight of it. his gaze flickers to your face, then down to your hands, then back to your eyes, as if trying to figure out what’s really going on.
“wait,” he says slowly, his tone less playful and more cautious now. “you’re not drunk, are you? had drinks or something when you were out?”
you quickly shake your head, trying to steady your breath. “no, i’m not drunk. i just—” but the words feel clumsy on your tongue, and suddenly, you’re unsure of how to take them back.
“i shouldn’t have said that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “this was stupid, i’m sorry. i don’t even know why i—”
you start rambling, trying to downplay the confession that’s just slipped out. each word feels like it’s digging you deeper, and you just want to take it all back. “i mean, i don’t even know what i was thinking—this is—god, i’m so—”
but before you can finish, seungcheol pushes himself off the couch and walks towards you, stopping just a few inches away. his eyes still lock on yours. the silence stretches, and you feel your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. you want to say something, to apologize again, but all the words are caught in your chest.
“stop,” he says softly, his voice low, but there’s an intensity in it that you can’t ignore.
you open your mouth, wanting to explain, to take back the awkward confession, but the words jumble in your mind. “it’s just… i didn’t want to make it weird, and now i’ve probably ruined everything—”
seungcheol doesn’t say anything, just watches you with an unreadable look in his eyes, waiting for you to stop rambling. you go on anyway, trying to explain yourself, even though you can feel yourself getting more flustered with each passing second.
before you can continue, he steps forward, his hand gently cupping your face, cutting off your words. you freeze, eyes wide, but before you can process anything, his lips crash onto yours, effectively silencing you.
the kiss is deep and urgent, like he’s been holding back too. your brain barely registers what’s happening as your hands instinctively move to his chest, but the tension that had been building between you both for so long snaps. everything goes quiet in your mind, and for the first time tonight, all the chaos and nerves fall away, replaced by the heat of his kiss.
the kiss lingers for a moment, intense and raw, as if neither of you wants to pull away. your breath mingles with his, the world around you blurring until there’s only the feeling of him so close, so real. your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears, and you can feel the tension in his body as he holds you just a bit tighter, as if he’s afraid you might slip away.
when he finally pulls back, you’re left breathless, your forehead resting against his as you both try to catch your breath. his hands are still on you, one gently holding your face, the other resting on your hip, grounding you.
“you really don’t make things easy, do you?” he murmurs, his voice a little hoarse, the teasing edge back in his tone, but it’s softer now, more affectionate.
you don’t trust yourself to speak right away. all the words that had been stuck in your chest before are now lost, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of him so close, his touch still lingering on your skin. instead, you look up at him, meeting his eyes, trying to make sense of everything, but before you can say anything, he smiles slightly, a genuine, soft expression.
“i didn’t realise how much i liked you until you told me about that guy,” he admits, brushing his thumb over your cheek gently. “i was too stupid to notice.”
you dont get to reply because his hand moves down your back, pulling you closer, your chest pressed against his. the room feels warmer now, charged with something you can't ignore. your hands find their way to his chest, pushing lightly at first, unsure if you should pull away or let it happen. but he doesn't give you that chance.
his lips return to yours, but this time, there's more urgency in it, his kiss deepening as his tongue brushes against yours. you let out a soft sigh, the tension that's been building between you two for what feels like forever finally snapping. he groans, his hand moving to your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss further. the heat between you both grows, and you can feel every inch of him pressing against you, making your pulse quicken.
seungcheol's voice is low, almost a whisper as he takes a step back, hands resting on your waist, grounding you both. "do you want to keep going?" he asks.
you nod, your heart racing, but your mind is clear. “yes.”
he doesn't say anything more, just nods and gently takes your hand, leading you through the apartment. when you get to your room, he lays you down on the bed gently, his hands never leaving you.
seungcheol hovers over you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation, any sign that you’re unsure. you can feel his body close to yours, the warmth radiating off him. “are you sure?”
“yes, cheol.” you let out a light laugh, pulling him closer. “im sure.”
his lips trail down your jaw, each kiss softer than the last before he moves to your neck, his teeth grazing slightly over the skin. you let out a soft sigh once he pulls back after reaching where your shirt starts. before he can say anything, you’re reaching for the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric over your head.
seungcheol takes a moment, his gaze lingering on you before meeting your eyes again.
“you’re so beautiful,” he says, unclasping your bra and slipping it off. “god.”
his hands find their way to your pants as he trails kisses down your chest, each one growing more desperate as his lips move lower. the warmth of his breath against your skin sends a shiver through you, and you can feel your heart race with every gentle press of his lips.
eventually, he pulls your pants off, discarding them somewhere on the floor behind him. “please.” you breathe out
“hmm?” he responds, his fingers slipping just under the band of your panties. ���what do you want, baby?”
“need you inside me, please.”
he glances down at you, lips twitching up into a smirk. “patience.”
“no, no, no— cheol, please—” you whimper out.
“don’t worry, you’ll get what you want.” he cuts you off, pressing a light kiss to your collarbone.
when he finally stops teasing you and pulls your panties down, tossing them god knows where, you’re already a mess underneath him. every nerve in your body is on edge, anticipation building as he slides two fingers through your folds. “fuck, you’re soaking wet for me, baby.” a low groan escapes his lips, his restraint wavering as he fights to hold himself back.
he slowly pushes one finger into your pussy, giving you a moment to relax before he adds another and starts to curl them into all the right places.
“cheol!” your head falls back against the pillow, hand going to grab his wrist for some sort of stability.
“yeah, you like that?”
you’re already so close — just from the way his fingers move inside you, hitting every spot that sends sparks shooting througu your body.
you nod over and over again, hips rising to match the rhythm of his movements. “don’t stop— fuck— please, im so close.” 
your breath hitches, and you clutch at his arm, desperate for grounding as the sensations overwhelm you. every stroke of his fingers feels like its pulling you closer to the brink, and the tension in your body winds tighter with each passing second. “please—” the word slips out as a whisper, barely audible. your legs start to shake, the pleasure coursing through you almost too much to bear.
before you can even warn seungcheol, you’re coming undone all over his fingers, hips bucking up at the same time.
“god, thats so hot.” he mutters, but you’re too out of it to know if its to you or himself.
"you alright?" seungcheol asks softly, his hand resting on your hip as he looks down at you with concern. his touch is gentle, almost hesitant, as if he's checking for any sign of discomfort.
you nod, your breath still ragged, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "yeah, i'm good. just... didn't expect that." your voice is breathy, the lingering effects of the moment still making your body tingle.
seungcheol smirks, clearly pleased with the reaction. "you sure you're not too overwhelmed?" he teases, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.
you laugh softly, the sound shaky but genuine. "im fine" you reply, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye. "was that your way of saying you like me too?"
“it was.” he smirks, eyes locking onto yours. “think you can go for one more round?”
he really is going to be the death of you.
#seventeen#svt#svt smut#seventeen smut#seungcheol#scoups#choi seungcheol#choi seungcheol smut#scoups smut#seungcheol smut#kpop#kpop smut#kpop fanfic#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#smut#fanfic
560 notes
·
View notes
Text
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ BOUND BY BLOOD 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀
☆ PAIRING : Yandere Batboys x Fem Reader
☆ HEADCANON : Ranking Them From Worst To Best As A Father.
☆ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, 90s Tim Drake, Damian Wayne.
☆ NOTE : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!
⎯ 1. DAMIAN WAYNE
Damian would be the absolute worst father as a yandere. To him, the child is not a beautiful product of your love but an unwanted distraction. Your attention belongs solely to him, and the baby becomes his rival from the moment they’re born. He’d tolerate the child for a while, but if your affection leaned even slightly toward the baby more than him? Damian’s jealousy would fester. He emotionally neglect the child and even harbor disturbing thoughts about getting rid of the "threat" to restore your focus to him. If the child cried too much or interrupted his time with you, Damian’s cold, sharp temper would flare. You’d have to constantly shield your baby from his wrath. "You should be with me," Damian snaps, his voice cutting as he watches you rock your baby to sleep. His eyes narrow. "You’ve been ignoring me all day because of... that."
⎯ 2. JASON TODD
Jason’s relationship with the child is complicated. On one hand, he sees them as a part of you—someone to protect and cherish. On the other, his deep insecurities could make him jealous of the attention the baby takes away from him. He’s unlikely to harm the child, but his temper could lead to emotionally volatile moments. Jason might unintentionally make the child feel like they’re competing for your love. He would struggle to find balance, often pulling you away to spend time with him instead of parenting. His own trauma colors his ability to be a stable father, even though he genuinely loves both you and the child. "I’m not saying I don’t care about the kid," Jason mutters, running a hand through his hair. His eyes meet yours, frustrated and vulnerable. "I just need you, okay? I need you more."
⎯ 3. 90s TIM DRAKE
Tim is more detached as a father, not because he doesn’t care but because he overanalyzes everything. He sees the child as a tool to keep you close—an anchor to bind you to him forever. While he wouldn’t intentionally harm or neglect the child, his obsession with you overrides his parental instincts. Tim might use the child to manipulate you subtly, ensuring you don’t leave him. He’s not overtly cruel, but his priorities are clear: you come first. The child’s needs are secondary to keeping you within his grasp. "We’re a family now," Tim says softly, his hand brushing over yours. His eyes gleam with determination. "And families don’t leave each other. Ever."
⎯ 4. BRUCE WAYNE
Bruce’s obsession with control means he would take his role as a father seriously, even in a yandere context. However, his need to micromanage everything could lead to him treating the child more like a future Wayne heir than a person. While he wouldn’t harm or neglect the child, his emotionally distant nature might make him seem cold and unapproachable as a father. He would still provide everything the child needs materially and intellectually, but emotionally, his obsession with you takes precedence. "He will grow up strong," Bruce assures you, his tone pragmatic. "But only if we guide him together. You’ll stay, won’t you? For them?"
⎯ 5. DICK GRAYSON
Surprisingly, Dick would be the best father among the Batboys, even in a yandere scenario. His obsession with you doesn’t diminish his natural warmth and love for his child. He genuinely wants a happy family and sees the baby as a beautiful extension of your love. Dick is attentive, nurturing, and emotionally present. He might occasionally feel jealous if the baby takes up too much of your attention, but he wouldn’t let it affect his treatment of the child. His focus would be on creating a harmonious family where everyone feels loved—especially you. "She got your eyes," Dick says with a soft smile, cradling your baby in his arms. He glances at you, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn’t think I could love anyone more than I love you... but I do."
FINAL RANKING : Worst to Best
1. Damian Wayne – Jealous and potentially dangerous.
2. Jason Todd – Overwhelmed by insecurities and prone to jealousy.
3. Tim Drake – Calculated and emotionally distant.
4. Bruce Wayne – Dutiful but prioritizes control over connection.
5. Dick Grayson – The most nurturing and balanced, even as a yandere.
ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ: ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.
#🕊️. dc comics#ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤ 𓇼ㅤ ㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤ ˚ㅤㅤ ◌ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏#bruce wayne x reader#yandere bruce wayne#dick grayson x reader#yandere dick grayson#jason todd x reader#yandere jason todd#tim drake x reader#yandere tim drake#damian wayne x reader#yandere damian wayne#yandere batman x reader#yandere nightwing#yandere red hood#yandere red robin#bruce wayne x fem!reader#dick grayson x female!reader#yandere dick grayson x reader#jason todd x fem!reader#tim drake x fem!reader#damian wayne x female reader#tim drake#dick grayson#yandere dc x reader#dc x female reader#batfam#jason todd#damian wayne#bruce wayne
780 notes
·
View notes
Text
To be clear, I am not recommending keto, but one of the other things I would recommend is on top of the general good advice of paying more attention to what you put in your body is to consider the ratio of what you are eating. What kinds of fats and carbs are you eating? Are you eating enough protein? Are you eating protein and fats with those carbs. Are you drinking enough water? Are you eating the micronutrients you need? Getting enough sleep? Managing stress?
Some of this is to address general health, and some of this is about healthy fat storage management and managing insulin sensitivity(which are interconnected). Some are about managing the hunger response. Some of this is just to help not feal shitty and crash part way through every day. And yeah, exercise is vital for health, too. It literally is bad for your brain to not exercise enough. I took garbage care of myself and felt like shit for solid chunks of my adult life until I took my health seriously. And I don't want to pretend this is trivial. Especially if your health is already bad, you're not going to be in the best head space to solve the issues you are having. It is constant trial and error, and some of it's going to change as you age. For me, a huge component I was struggling with relates exercise. I love exercising. I find it genuinely enjoyable. But I wasn't eating enough to sustain that level of activity. On top of that, I constantly have to be careful about not exercising too much or i would hurt my self. A lot of this is just going to be figuring out what your body needs and what it can do. And often it's going to be less than you'd like.
And to be clear, this is useful Info regardless of what your health or "weight problem" is, under, or over. I don't think we should shame people or make people feel unatractove for what their body looks like, but things can get out of hand in either direction and cause health issues, and I think that pretending otherwise just undermines the credibility of body equity advocacy. I wish it was not the case, but those issues have caused multiple family members of mine to need constant and significant physical assistance from me as a result of those issues.
Me: Exercise does not cause weight loss. This is a fact that has been demonstrated so robustly in research that even doctors, who hate and fear evidence, are grudgingly starting to admit this.
Someone reading that post: Cool, but have you considered that exercise leads to weight loss?
Me: I am going to eat you
77K notes
·
View notes
Note
i need more loser!heeseung after reading that oh my gosh . yes yes yes yes. #needhim #needthat
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・ LO$ER = LO♡ER
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, headcanon, WC; 2.7k, WARNING(S); mildly suggestive (what’s heeseung supposed to do when you’re so hot?), A/N; your wish is my command. i absolutely love loser!heeseung. it's a need. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso @hollyoongs @hoonieyun }
loser!heeseung was excited. so excited. why you may ask? because you agreed to go to anime con with him. you even suggested that the two of you cosplay. you asked to go as lucy and david from cyberpunk edgerunners, something that fit the aesthetic you two had built. so, heeseung checked himself out in the mirror, fumbling with the yellow jacket you sewed for him and fixing the pieces of his hair that fell out.
“baby, i think we’re gonna be late if we don’t head out n—”
you came out in your outfit as you adjusted the belt resting on your hip. heeseung didn’t have any words. you looked… gosh, how could he describe you without being weird? you were beautiful, even on the days you didn’t feel it. but… right now? heeseung felt ashamed to say that he understood all those nasty guys thirsting over cosplayers. holy crap, he hit the lotto. you were a vision.
“hee? do i look weird? i wasn’t sure about the wig either,” you pouted as you touched the long white strand.
“no!” heeseung shouted, then cleared his throat. “you look really good.”
you smiled and walked up to him, checking out the two of you in the mirror. “you also look very handsome. we make a good lucy and david, huh?”
your eyes glanced at heeseung through the mirror and noticed he was still looking at you with his mouth agape. you turned to him and waved your hand in front of his face. “hee?”
as he kept staring at you, you shifted. you couldn’t help but blush under his gaze. heeseung gulped. how was he going to keep all those creepy guys away from you? he can’t even fight! he’d have to cover you up! but then he wouldn’t get to look at you in this… this outfit.
you softly planted a kiss on his cheek and that brought him out of his daze. his ears were bright red when he stepped away from you.
“i— uh. um. we— you—” he stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought.
a giggle escaped you at his lack of words. you did a little spin for him. man, heeseung couldn’t help his eyes drifting down at the cutouts on your hips and how short your—no! stop objectifying her. bad heeseung. that is your lovely girlfriend, who you love very much and who, for some odd reasons, loves you too.
“hee,” you interrupted, your lashes lowering—wow, you looked ready to eat him. “i thought we were gonna be late?”
you crept up to him, your hand ghosting over his arm. you pressed into him. “i mean, we don’t have to go. i just thought you wanted—”
you didn’t end up going, by the way. your couple’s cosplay never saw the light of day. instead, they were scattered on your bedroom floor.
loser!heeseung didn’t know how to feel when you asked to play d&d with him. while he said yes (because he’d never say no to you), he was admittedly nervous. what if you thought he was a big nerd and wanted to leave him? what if you hated how he dm’d (dungeon master)? well, it was too late now. you guys were on your way to jeongin’s apartment.
contray to heeseung’s overthinking, you were excited. you finally got to experience one of heeseung’s favorite pastimes. you didn’t really understand the whole thing, but you were open to it! you did some late-night research and built your own little character. she was an eladrin sage druid at level 6. heeseung made sure to let you know that you’d be thrown right into the middle of this campaign and that all the other characters were at level 6.
when you guys arrived at the door, jeongin threw it open and you were taken aback. he was in full costume, armor and all. apparently, jeongin was also taken aback. he didn’t think you were actually coming.
“oh! uh, welcome to my apartment, y/n!” he stepped aside to let you and heeseung in. inside, you saw unfamiliar faces who were also in costume. jeongin pulled heeseung aside and whispered. “i didn’t think you were serious when you said that y/n was coming! and where’s your costume?”
heeseung gave him an apologetic look. “dude, i’m sorry. you know i can’t say no to her. and i didn’t want to overwhelm her before we even left the apartment.”
jeongin sighed. “you better still dm the same with the voices and everything. and no preferential treatment!”
heeseung nodded and went to sit by you. you leaned into him and whispered. “i feel incredibly underdressed. did you know they were going to dress up?”
he rubbed the back of his neck. “we usually do for every session.”
you pouted and looked him up and down. “i would’ve tried dressing up too if i knew! where’s your costume?”
oh, how heeseung loved you. you didn’t even bat an eye that they were all losers that liked to play dress up on a weekly basis. you were just put out that you weren’t told.
“i didn’t wanna pressure you when it’s your first time,” heeseung said, patting your knee. usually, heeseung would kiss your pout away, but he was in a room full of friends who were very blatantly staring at you.
a throat cleared, drawing heeseung’s attention towards jeongin. in a (poor) scottish accent, jeongin said. “dungeon master, the fellowship awaits ye!”
heeseung nodded and pulled out his notes for the campaign. when you tried to peek, he immediately leaned away, keeping the notebook shut. “the people in the campaign can’t see this,” he said.
understanding, you stopped trying to look. you just pulled out your phone with your character sheet on it. jeongin paused in his seat. “oh, y/n, did you need to build your character first? we can wait for you,” jeongin said in his normal voice.
you shook your head and waved your phone. “i built one in d&d beyond! i came prepared, sort of?”
now, jeongin didn’t have much opinion on you other than that you were heeseung’s really hot girlfriend. but, after seeing how you tried to prepare, he could say that he liked you.
once everyone settled down, heeseung resumed the campaign. it amazed you how he was able to switch between all those voices, acting out the npcs of the quest. the way you were staring at him intently made heeseung unusually nervous.
whenever his eyes shifted over to you, his dialogue faltered for a sec before he continued. he interacted with the others of the campaign before coming to a point in the story where you could hop in. you put on a proper english accent, trying to sound as much like arwen from lord of the rings (you watched it countless times with heeseung). if no one else was in the room right now, heeseung would’ve died from your cuteness. a part of him was geeking out right now. his girlfriend, the love of his life, was playing d&d with him. what did he do in his past life to deserve this?
then came the fights. as he narrated, his friends rolled on their turns, fighting against the monsters that heeseung created. when it came to your turn, you looked a bit out of your depth. you were scrolling through moves in the d&d index to see which ones you could do. everyone was thankfully patient with you.
“i use a 3rd level spell slot and call upon lightning to strike the monster closest to jeongin?” you commanded unsurely.
heeseung leaned over, careful to not expose any notes. “baby, you’re gonna hit jeongin with that spell and you gotta reference his character, not him. that spell has a damage radius of 5 feet. the monster is only 3 feet away from him.”
you deflated as you scrolled through your list of spells. you turned your phone to heeseung, showing him the spell you wanted to use instead. “can i use flame arrows instead?”
heeseung could just die from how cute you were. he shook his head and scrolled through your list and clicked on wind wall. “you can use this one and surround the monster. it’ll take bludgeoning damage once the wall forms, regardless of his strength saving throw.”
you nodded and got back into character. you acted as if you were really putting a wind wall up and commanded more confidently. “i erect a wind wall around the monster and separate him from thralladin.”
heeseung got back to dm’ing and rolled his dice, falling short for a saving throw. he took note of the damage and continued everyone else’s turn. the night was fun! heeseung couldn’t believe how quickly you picked it up or how into it you were. at the end of the night, when everyone was leaving, jeongin pulled him aside again. “dude, y/n’s actually cool.”
pride swelled in heeseung’s chest. you managed to get the okay from his friend, not that it really affected how he felt for you. you two said your goodbyes to jeongin and walked home. you were filled with excitement for the next session. “what kind of clothes should i get for illanaria? i’m thinking white robes with some sheer drapes to add a bit of flair. i really need to study up on my spells so i don’t keep wasting time scrolling through the index. should i also get a notebook?”
just when heeseung didn’t think he could fall for you any harder, you proved him wrong.
loser!heeseung has met your parents, but in passing. however, today was a dinner meant to force—he means give a chance (don’t tell y/n he said that)—him to talk to your parents in length.
“don’t be nervous! my mom’s loved you since high school!”
ya, it’s not your mom he’s worried about. your dad on the other hand? what was he even going to talk about with him? football? heeseung could barely understand the sport. home improvement? he always needed your help to build ikea furniture. there wasn’t much he could do to gain some points with your dad. he just prayed that he wouldn’t hate him too much.
after 4 years (you recently celebrated your anniversary!) of being together, heeseung was finally going to talk to your dad. no more small talk while he waits for you to come down. he was actually going to have to make conversation with your father. if his phone didn’t tell him how cold it was, he’d think it was summer with how he was sweating.
the door swung open to reveal your mom, who looked as jovial and vibrant as ever. “kids! come in, come in. it’s freezing out there. that stupid global warming is really messing with the temperature.”
heeseung greeted her warmly, awkwardly accepting her bear hug while balancing the mac n’ cheese in his right hand. she pulled away and gasped. “you brought your famous mac n’ cheese! y/n’s been raving about this ever since she had it. i can’t wait to try it!”
when she rushed off to set it on the dinner table, your dad appeared with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. he peered up at heeseung, since heeseung was slightly taller, and stared at him for a moment.
“so… you brought mac n’ cheese,” your dad said plainly.
heeseung laughed nervously. “i hope that’s okay?”
when your dad didn’t say anything for a second, you slapped his chest. “dad, stop intimidating him!”
your dad cracked a smile before ruffling your hair. “alright, sweetheart.” he clapped heeseung on the back and grinned. “i love mac n’ cheese! dinner’s almost ready, so make yourself feel at home!”
wow, he was a lot less intimidating than heeseung remembered. he thought back to all those moments in high school and wondered if your dad was just pretending to be stoic. your dad guided him to the dinner table before entering the kitchen again. as he moved around, your mom leaned forward. “so, heeseung, when are you going to ask my daughter to marry you?”
you choked on your water, water spraying out of the side of your mouth. heeseung quickly offered you a napkin and patted you on the back. you wiped your mouth and glared at your mom. “mom, that is not one of the preapproved questions. actually, i explicitly said you and dad can’t bring up anything about marriage.”
your mom tsked and pouted. “honey, you’ve been dating for so long. it’s a natural question.”
before you could protest, your dad brought over the rack of lamb, fresh from the oven. he placed it in the center and took off his gloves, kissing the top of your head afterwards. “your mother is just excited to have a son-in-law that can cook. you talk about him all the time. sue her for being curious.”
you talked about him with your parents? you glared up at your dad. “we haven’t even talked about that yet. i wonder why? oh ya, because we’re still in college!”
your dad raised his arms in surrender. “hey, i asked your mom to marry me when we were 16.”
“to which i said no,” your mom playfully jabbed. “we were far too young.”
“we’re also too young,” you grumbled, leaning into heeseung’s side. he wrapped his arms around your shoulder. he hoped your parents didn’t look at him too closely. his blush was probably covering his whole face. he didn’t realize your parents were also high school sweethearts.
“you also rejected dad until you were in college, anyway,” you added, clasping your hand with heeseung’s. ah, so not high school sweethearts.
when your dad settled beside your mom, she patted him on the chest. “he wasn’t always the hunk you see now.”
“okay, that was gross. can we eat now?” you groaned. your dad started making a plate and handed it to your mom. heeseung should also probably do this for you. he pulled away from you and started making your plate, avoiding the deviled eggs and piling on the mac n’ cheese. when he placed it down in front of you, your dad raised his eyebrow. “you still avoiding deviled eggs?”
you brought your plate closer to you, waiting to eat until heeseung had his plate. you stuck your tongue out at your dad. “i don’t when hee makes them.”
your dad looked at heeseung with a surprised look. “you made her eat deviled eggs?”
“i just added miso and switched the regular mayo out for the japanese one,” heeseung sheepishly laughed. “she seemed to enjoy them.”
a boisterous laugh escaped your dad as he leaned his head back. when he caught his breath, he gave heeseung an approving nod. “good on you, man.”
the rest of the dinner went smoothly, and heeseung felt himself relaxing. your dad wasn’t nearly as intimidating as he thought. they easily bonded over cooking and how the women in their life shouldn’t have to lift their pretty little fingers if they didn’t want to. heeseung felt relieved. your dad seemed to like him, especially after you telling him how much heeseung takes care of you.
by the end of it, your dad was inviting him back over—without you. “you should come over and we can workshop a course menu for the girls.”
heeseung grinned, promising to come back soon. you said your goodbyes and drove home. on the drive, you kissed your intertwined hands. “thanks for doing that.”
heeseung shook his head. “it’s no problem. i’m glad i got to talk to your parents.”
“nothing to worry about, right? they really like you,” you teased. “they even want you to marry me so they can trap you forever.”
heeseung hummed. he’d gladly be “trapped” by your parents if it meant calling you his wife. should he go ring shopping? he didn’t have money for that right now. maybe once he gets his return offer. he could at least scroll on through websites.
“good thing i already do wanna marry you.”
disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too! you can now leave requests!
#enhypen#heeseung x reader#lee heeseung#enhypen x reader#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#⍣ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚: writes#⍣ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚: headcanons#⍣ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚: 𝓪𝓷𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼#anon 〠
305 notes
·
View notes
Text
CROSSING PATHS
— right place, right time AU
summary: quinn meets an unlikely friend, and its owner.
warnings: none! wc: 1.6k
note: hope you guys enjoy this and the concept of this au :)
The captain was feeling incredibly overwhelmed- trying to find out why his team just couldn’t pull through in the end, no matter the amount of work and effort they put in at practice. It took a toll on him the hardest, his confidence going down the drain with every sound of the buzzer that announced their loss to the whole arena.
While others would congratulate him regardless, giving him the whole, “You’re doing great.” spiel, he- for one- didn’t believe it, and two, he didn’t care for great. He wanted perfection.
“Hun, get out of your apartment, forget about hockey for a minute.” His mother said over the phone after he had called her after a particularly tough OT loss, “It might clear your head a bit.”
Quinn groaned, his mother saying the impossible, “I don’t need a walk, Ma. We just need to win.”
Ellen’s laughter echoed throughout the apartment, “Q, you’ve got to unwind. I’m scared you’re going to blow up that head of yours.”
On some level, Quinn knew she was right. I mean, it was visibly obvious when his mind was running a million miles per hour. He hesitated before saying, “Fine. But if all I get from this is frostbite, you’re taking care of me.”
“When am I not?”
Quinn let out a lighthearted laugh, saying his goodbyes before going to put his sneakers on and grab a warmer hoodie than the one he had on. He looked at himself in the mirror when he passed it in his hall, his hair disheveled and the exhaustion becoming more and more prominent every day.
As he grabbed his door keys to walk out of the apartment, he briefly debated grabbing his hockey bag that sat next to his doorway and going to the rink instead. He quickly talked himself out of that idea, ultimately deciding that it would be counterintuitive to forget about hockey for a bit, whilst playing hockey.
~~~
Quinn made his way to the park nearby, settling on just walking wherever his feet took him instead of following an instructed trail. It was chilly, the Vancouver air surprisingly warmer than it had been in previous winters, but still cold enough to send a sharp shiver through his body.
His eyes wandered as he let his senses become filled with the sounds of nature and the conversations of people passing by. Everyone looked so relaxed and carefree, giving Quinn a sliver of hope that he, too, would feel that way after a few hours here.
He had become so entranced by his surroundings that his brain barely registered a voice quickly approaching that yelled, “Watch out!”
Quinn turned around, a sudden pressure coming down onto his lower stomach as a medium-sized golden retriever jumped on him with enough force to have him stumbling a bit, but not enough to knock him down completely. The animal’s tail wagged rapidly, its panting breaths reaching Quinn’s nose as it looked up at him.
“Hey, bud.” Quinn cooed, petting its head, making the dog even more excited.
You came up to him, leash around your waist as you panted, catching your breath before speaking up, “I am so sorry, she doesn’t normally do this.” He looked up, his jaw dropping slightly as he took you in. He noticed your hair had fallen out of your updo, now messily draped across your shoulders and back, your mascara running the slightest bit under your eyes due to sweat, but still keeping your lashes up and curled. But most of all, he noticed that gleam in your eyes that was a mix of joy and relaxation.
The dog had now put her paws down fully on the concrete, beginning to circle around Quinn’s legs and even trying to go in between them before a snap of your fingers brought her back to those simple circles.
“It’s okay,” Quinn muttered, trying to keep his composure as his heart thrummed rapidly in his chest. “Cute dog.”
“Thank you.” You smiled, noticing her tail not slowing down in the slightest in his presence. “She seems to really like you, she’s not normally like this with strangers.”
Your words seemed to relax him a little bit, a grin appearing on his face as he squatted down, putting himself on level with the pup and rubbing her head, “What’s her name?”
“Chilli.” You answered.
Quinn gave you a look of confusion, “I was actually talking to her."
It took you a minute to realize what he had meant, but when it clicked, you let out a bubbly laugh that had Quinn’s head reeling, “Smooth. I’m Y/N.”
He gave Chilli one last pat before standing up, sticking his hand out like you were some lady in the office, “Quinn.”
You shook his hand, laughing quietly at the formality before meeting his gaze fully this time, your brain registering his admirable features, which were all of them.
The curve of his nose, his long lashes, and those eyes that reflected a look of relief. You caught yourself staring a little longer than you intended to, clearing your throat with a smile before looking down at Chilli. You hooked the link of the leash to her harness, ensuring she wouldn’t try this stunt again with another person.
“Well, Quinn, if you’re not too busy, would you like to join us on the rest of our walk?” You proposed, growing enough courage to ask.
Quinn was sure his heart exploded.
“Yeah. I’d like that.” He said as smoothly as possible.
The toothy smile that appeared on your face after he agreed had a matching one on his face immediately after. The two of you started walking, letting Chilli lead the way as she walked ahead of you, sniffing the ground as she went.
It was a comfortable silence that fell between you and Quinn, but he wanted to know more about the mystery girl and her dog that walked beside him.
“So,” He began, “Why the harness instead of a collar?”
You turned your head to face him, “I’m not a fan of collars. I know I wouldn’t like it if someone was tugging at my neck. Plus, this gives me a little more control of her without having to pull at her.” Quinn hummed, “Do you work with animals?”
“When I have time, I volunteer with this local animal shelter a few minutes from here.” Your words registered in his mind, the conversation flowing smoothly. Before he could ask you something else, you chimed in first. “What about you? What do you do?”
He hesitated. He knew he couldn’t just say, “I’m actually a professional hockey player.” Unfortunately for him, he did say it out loud instead of keeping it in his head like he had intended.
When he caught the words spewing out of him before he could stop them, he braced himself, ready for you to grill him about his career, and income, or even pull out your phone to google him to find out yourself. So what you said next shocked him a little bit.
“Oh, that’s fun. Do you like it?” You asked calmly, keeping your gaze straight ahead.
He let out a breath of relief, “Uh, yeah. I mean, not a whole lot right now.” You tilted your head, facing him again, “What’s that mean?”
“My team’s in a bit of a slump right now and we can’t seem to win anything.” He explained vaguely, not wanting to let himself fall into a deep conversation about hockey with someone he just met.
Luckily for him, you didn’t press. You simply hummed and switched topics that had more to do with him rather than his job.
The two of you walked and talked about anything and everything, and by the time you returned back to where you had started, Quinn felt as if he’d known you for ten years instead of just two hours.
And by the end of it, he wasn’t thinking about hockey at all.
“Thanks for joining us, Quinn.” You announced.
Quinn smiled, “Thanks for asking. I really needed that.”
You stood there a bit awkwardly as Chilli licked at his shoes, her way of saying goodbye before you verbalized it and said, “I’ll see you around.” turning to walk away from him and back to your apartment.
Before you could, Quinn stopped you, walking to your side again so you would stop and face him. He stared at you for a minute before snapping himself out of his daze, pulling out his phone, and asking, “Do you think I could get your number? Maybe we could do this again sometime.”
His pupils nearly shaped hearts when you flashed him another smile, a small giggle coming from your throat as you took his unlocked phone from his hands and typed in your number and name into it.
“Thanks.” He cheesed, “I’ll text you.”
You bit your lip innocently, “Can’t wait.’”
He bid you goodbye, relishing in the way you turned around to look at him when you were a good distance away. He smiled to himself before making his way back to the apartment. On his way, he went to his call logs and facetimed his mom yet again.
“You okay?” She picked up with a look of confusion on her face.
Quinn nodded, the smile on his face indescribably giddy, “Thank you for making me come out here.”
“You look a lot better now, what happened?” She teased, but there was a hint of relief in her voice as he looked… lighter.
“I met someone.”
#jo speaks#right place right time au#quinn hughes#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes x reader#qh43#quinn hughes fluff#quinn hughes fanfiction#quinn hughes fic
294 notes
·
View notes
Text
sweetheart | l. at
nerd!anton x nerd!reader | 5.1k words
a request i got and it kinda made me go a little insane.
contains: anton pretends to be an insecure little nerd to plot on the reader, fingering, reader is implied to be a virgin
Anton is a sweetheart. He’s non assuming and soft spoken, so quiet that he has to clear his throat each time he speaks. He’s kind, always extending the same tenderness and patience to people he received as a child. He’s one of the few men in his program that the girls didn’t have trouble approaching if they had a question or trouble with an assignment.
Each time anyone approached him with a question he was helpful, pushing his thick frames up his face before leaning to the paper. With a pencil he’d mark where the mistake was, and explaining it with a gentle voice that had girls leaning in even closer.
After they got a smell of his cologne and the look of his soft skin everything else was easy. The girls would tilt their heads in curiosity about Anton, intrigued at how someone so shy made it this far in life. How someone was so cute from afar but something more once you got close. All he had to do was avoid their eyes and chew his lip a few times before they were sliding their phones over to him.
Just in case I need help with another assignment.
Anton’s eyes would always widen in shock. Not from the surprise of being pursued but just how easy it all was. The girls never found out that Anton was red in the face from the rush and he ducked his head to hide a smile of satisfaction. They would laugh lightly seeing his reaction, observing what they thought was insecurity. Before going on about their day they’d touch his shoulder or pull on him playfully.
Anton is a sweetheart.
But he also has a problem.
He knows he does. His friends compared it to a sweet tooth that bordered addiction, or someone who would walk into a casino with a twenty dollar bill expecting to hit big. They sometimes even called Anton a psychopath when he’d get all giddy telling them about his day.
Anton knew he had a problem, but it was hard to stop when he got the sweet fix or hit the jackpot each time. Nothing could top the feeling of euphoria Anton would get when he’d come to one of those girls after they asked him to come to their place. He’d look at the messages in the comfort of his room and smile, knowing what it meant when they’d preface the study session by saying they were alone. He’s addicted to the game he’d play every time, faking the shy and insecure nerd that pretty girls were going to eat for dinner. Like they were throwing him a bone by inviting him to their apartment or dorm under the guise of doing homework.
They’d answer the door in something easy to take off or something that would cling to them like a second skin. If they were particularly desperate it’d be both, yoga pants that showed everything and a cropped shirt that rode up with every movement. Anton loved shamelessly gawking at the girls behind his glasses, shuffling from foot to foot in front of them before they invited him in. He waited for each direction, eyes darting around their room before he was invited to sit down or told to take out his notebook. He would purposefully be a step behind, showing how lost he was to be in a room that didn’t belong to him or his other intraverted friends.
He loved letting the girls make the first move. On their bed settling in as they really got a look at him in the setting of their room. Something about how clueless he was made the girls all the more strung up. He looked everywhere but at them, shrinking himself on their bed. His timidness made the girls love making the first subtle touch on his flexed arm, or purposefully grabbing his pencil so they could compare hand sizes. Anton loved acting like he was nervous wreck from the longing stares to the side of his face, like he hadn’t done this dance a million times before. He loved messing up his words while trying to act oblivious to the hungry look in their eyes. He loved the pretty smile the girls would get like he was the one falling into their trap.
His absolute favorite part was when they’d turn his head with their soft hands. Anton would falter from the eye contact, letting his lips part in confusion as they focused on him. The notebooks and assignments between them long forgotten as they shuffled closer to him on the bed.
“Have you ever been with a girl before?”
They’d always ask that. Voices light and airy, already having an answer in their mind.
“I have.”
He’d always answer with a stutter. The falter in his voice never made them push any further. They assumed by Anton’s darting eyes that the number was so minuscule asking about it would only embarrass him.
(He stopped being embarrassed of his conquests a long time ago. He also stopped being able to keep track.)
Anton is a sweetheart, with a problem of seeing pretty girls eyes flash when they realize that he is more than capable.
The moment was always the same. The mood in the room would change when Anton would sheepishly take off his oversized hoodie. Each time silence would settle over the room when they saw what he was hiding underneath. His undershirt hugged close to his body, showing the chisel and the hard work he put in at the gym. When he was feeling tired while working out he’d replay the sight of the girls taking in his toned body. They’d reach out to touch his chest as if they were expecting it all to be fake, other times they would just let out a breathless wow.
He always basked in seeing the girls try to maintain their composure. They would become the ones averting their eyes and stumbling over their words. They would be shellshocked on their side of the bed, wondering what else he was hiding. But Anton was still sweet, he always was. He would always wait patiently to see if this was really what the girls wanted. He would pick at the seam of his pants and look down to the forgotten homework to let them know they could go back to what they were doing and pretend this never happened. But the obvious bulge in his pants always made pretty girls reach for the waistband of their pants without a second thought.
Anton was never sure if they gawked at him in an attempt to get his confidence up or if they were truly surprised. As if his build and height were no indicator, each time Anton took off his pants to reveal his dick they were always so shocked. That’s when the resolve would truly fall, when their jaws would drop and they’d blink their eyes from the sheer surprise. Precum would leak from his tip just from the sight of them coming to terms with what was twitching and red and angry in front of them.
“You’re big.”
The infliction in their voice was always different. Some girls would be excited, others would be confused, a few times they almost seemed disgusted. Like there was no way the shy kid in the back of the class was hiding this.
“Am I really?”
Anton wasn’t an idiot. Even if he said it looking down at the bed, he knew that he was endowed and it was pretty. But sometimes he just needed to hear it an extra time, or look up to see a quick head nod when they couldn’t fathom saying it again. He was an insecure nerd after all. The quiet recluse in the back of class that barely had friends. An absolute sweetheart that threw girls around and manipulated their bodies into positions they didn’t even know about.
He loved being a good fuck. For a long time he believed he was put on the Earth to fuck pretty girls and to stop them from judging books by their covers. Anton was killing two birds with one stone by cooing at girls condescendingly while he gave them everything. It was his civic duty to exert his strength and to kiss girls until they were breathless and his glasses fogged. Each time he heard I didn’t know you had that in you an angel gained it’s wings. Whenever they’d tell their girlfriends what the shy nerd did to them in their dorm Anton was making the world a better place. Sometimes he would get called back, sometimes he would run through entire friend groups just to prove he was really committed to the cause.
No matter how many people Anton fucked, no one seemed to believe it. Like it was collective psychosis that the nerd was a good lay, or a big open secret everyone was hush about. Anton was still treated like he was meek, his soft nature made everyone believe he was an open book, so much to the point that they made wrong judgements about his character. He actually hated staying inside and enjoyed exploring the city and trying new things with his friends. He was a sensitive person but he could also advocate for himself and admit when he was wrong. He was quiet, but only because he valued personal, quiet conversations more than anything.
He eventually learned that people’s preconceived notions of him couldn’t be helped. Anton could fuck the entirety of the campus and people would still treat him like he was made of glass. He decided to be an optimist, finding the silver lining in people assuming he was the sweetheart with a cute smile. Their perception of him could’ve been worse, being shy was infinitely better than being loud and obnoxious. So when people would assume things about Anton’s personality he would only react positively. He would let his eyes go wide, acting shocked when someone would tell him about their first impression of him.
“I thought you were an asshole at first.”
You told Anton nonchalantly, as if his whole world didn’t crumble. You didn’t even spare him a second glance as you wrote on your lab report. You were too busy adjusting the calculations and reading over the proper way to dispose the chemicals a million times to make sure it was right while Anton sputtered to himself. He was caught off guard by your honesty and surprisingly quick answer as if it was on the forefront of your mind. You only tilted your head up for a second before you had the answer.
Anton didn’t know what to do about you. Just when he thought he had seen every girl in his major you came along, sitting in the back of class with him. You seemed to be the recluse of a person everyone mistook Anton for. You were in and out of class, not bothering to raise your hand during discussions or to socialize with your peers. You also didn’t seem to latch onto him like other girls of his major did. When they looked for Anton’s face in the lecture hall you walked right past him, not bothering to look up from your notebook or laptop. For the first time in his life Anton felt compelled to make the first move. He thought that you two had built up a good rapport, and that you saw him as your kindhearted and resigned classmate.
But you saw him as anything but that. You said it confidently too, and loud enough for your classmates at the next lab table to look over.
“What do you mean?” Anton said quietly.
You frowned looking up from the pamphlet. You were visibly annoyed, you even motioned to the undisposed chemicals to show him that you two still had class.
“Can we talk about this when our grade isn’t at stake, please?” You asked.
You weren’t commanding for his benefit. You weren’t taking into account that he might be afraid to hear a negative opinion about himself. You weren’t looking at him like girls had before, like you were trying to pick him apart for your own entertainment. You were willing to put validation for Anton on the back burner because you had other things to do. When Anton would have girls gush over him you were benevolent, indifferent to his fake insecurities.
The more you paid attention to your work rather than him, Anton found himself scrambling. He was working hard for your affection. When the teacher announced that class was over and lab reports were due the next morning he leapt at the chance to invite himself over. He was supposed to be shy and insecure, getting nervous over the mere thought of being alone with the opposite sex. His facade went over your head. Instead, Anton watched you do the cost-benefit analysis of inviting him over before you shrugged your shoulders.
“Alright. Just follow me.” You said before setting a ridiculously fast paced speed walk to the other side of campus.
But Anton followed you. He bobbed and weaved through crowds and essentially chased you across the common area while you continued on your pace. Other girls would walk with Anton, trying to pry information out from his clammy hands. You barely spared a second glance over your shoulder like you were trying to lose him. Anton followed you all the way to your dorm, then up the stairs, then waited for you beside your door as you put your backpack on your desk and pulled up a chair next to yours. You didn’t extend an invitation towards Anton to take a seat.
He waits for you to step in. He’s laid the trap by taking off his hoodie even though you kept your room cold, and shuffled his seat closer to yours. He put his elbows on the table next to yours coming closer to the lines you stopped writing on your paper.
He laid the trap. He can see you hesitate, looking from him to the assignment and then back to him. Anton keeps his eyes on the paper, rubbing his fingers over his lips to stop himself from smiling.
“Do you work out?” You asked.
Your voice didn’t have the sultry infliction that girls usually had when they asked him that question. You didn’t reach across and squeeze his toned bicep or shamelessly drag your eyes over his broad shoulders. You asked the question simply, no other intention except for wanting an answer.
“I do. Sometimes.” Anton said.
You only hummed and went back to your paper. Anton scooted closer to you, hoping his Le Labo Lavande 31 and the hand across the back of your chair was invading your space enough for you to really get a good look at him. Anton watched your eyes dart again. You were nervous, eyes wide and Anton felt the rush.
“You smell nice.” You said.
The line was pulled from the trap. You’re caged in and Anton looks to you. He knows about the death grip you have on your pencil, it makes him brave enough to invade your space even more.
“You forgot to write your observations here.” Anton says, trying to make lab reports as sexy as possible.
This assignment would’ve been abandoned a long time ago. If this was anyone else it would’ve never made it out of their backpack. You were adamant about your work, looking at the tips of his pretty fingers where you left a spot blank. He should have his report out too. He should be writing something just like you try to, instead Anton leans closer and he swears the pencil in your hand is going to break from the pressure.
Is this how he should’ve been acting with those girls all that time? This is real nerves rolling off your body. The anxiety almost makes Anton nervous by extension, he shivers when he finally lets his hand on the back of your chair touch your body. You stiffen and he’s amazed. You went from being indifferent to being too aware. He feels you back away slightly, but when his hand tightens on your shoulder you lean in. You’re hot and cold, not knowing what you want. He can feel you tremble, and your eyes dart from his eyes to his lips.
“I’ve never done anything before.”
Anton comes closer. His hand that pointed at a random thing on your paper turns into a fist as he distracts you completely. He brings himself forward until he’s in your line of sight, even when you try so hard to look at anything but him. He smirks when your eyes dart past him, and he fully lets his arm rest across your back. You’re malleable, before you refused to even bend to him but now you move from his slightest touch.
“What do you mean?” He asks. “You’ve never done what before?”
He should go for the nerds more often. The way you already seem sweaty and antsy just from thinking about what is happening makes Anton want to play with you some more. He knows it’s perverse, like a dog playing a smaller animal to death. He wants to see if you’ll twitch, if you’re playing dead just to try and make a run for it.
“I’ve never—I know that—” Anton raises his eyebrows and nods to each one of your broken statements. “It just seems like—”
“Like what?” He smiles and nudges you. His smile is toothy, yours is tightlipped to a straight line. “C’mon. Talk to me.” He continues.
“You smell really good.” You repeat.
You’re the twitching body of a mouse in his jaws. He just smile and nods at your statement, how you go back to saying old things in an attempt to catch your footing. He forces you to sit in the uncomfortable silence. He waits for you to say something knowing you can’t, he waits for you to touch him even if you’re caught like a deer in the headlights.
“I look good too, right?” He starts drawing shapes on your shoulder.
He’s having too much fun. He’s entertained seeing your intelligence fail you. You’re stumped, you drop your pencil to fully clench your fist.
The pencil is rolling back and forth on your lab report, the small sound is the only thing that speaks. You’re still desperately trying to figure out how you got into this situation, how one thing led to another so quickly that his hand is reaching underneath the sleeve of your shirt.
“You look good, Anton.” You agree.
“Thanks.” Anton smiles and you do too, averting your eyes and nodding to yourself to feign indifference. Anton looks down to your shirt, still playing with your skin underneath your sleeve. “You do too.” He says.
Another bout of silence. You let yourself be touched, hands still clenched on top of the table. Anton rests his hand on top of your fist, smoothing over the protruding veins trying to coax them open. This is more fulfilling than playing with popular girls. The game still hasn’t ended for him. He’s on the fifth consecutive jackpot when you finally open your mouth again.
“I don’t.” Your hand opens and Anton clasps over it, smiling to himself when it disappears. “I don’t know what you want me to do.” You stutter.
You’re too cute for your own good. Finally you look at him with big eyes and your eyebrows raised. You give into his touches a little more, finally warming up to all the attention. Still your pupils shake, and Anton brings his hand from your shoulder to your face to keep you from turning away.
“Can I make you feel good?” He asks.
You could barely nod before Anton was guiding you up from your chair and backing you towards your bed. He watched you stumble when the back of your legs hit the edge. You looked up at him, your pretty eyes already looking wet. Maybe he really did have a problem. Because he loved seeing them widen in surprise when he put his hands underneath your arms, lifting you up just enough to set you on the edge of your bed. He loved seeing your jostled expression and the tiny yelp when you landed so perfectly on your sheets.
Anton watched you stay in place, catching your breath from the sudden movement. He watched your chest still as his hands went to the bottom of his tank top. He’s grateful to have such a captive audience. There’s no way he can pretend to be shy after this. You’re astonished as he slowly lifts his shirt, and he watched you shamelessly stare at him before you realized he could see you.
Anton let you eat him alive before he came up to you, until you had to tilt your head upwards to see him. You didn’t dare lift your hands from the bed, like he was going to disappear the moment you touched him. Like he was straight from a dream you only looked up to him, waiting for what he was going to do next. Anton wonders if you thought you’d end up in this position, with him looming over you and his hand creeping to a spot under your chin. He absolutely can’t stop doing this. The view is too pretty, your stillness is addicting. Like you’re too afraid to even breathe too loud in case it’d break the tension. He bends closer to your lips, eyes still open after you screw yours shut. You preemptively grip your mattress for dear life and he can’t help but smile.
He smiles into the kisses, each peck bringing you closer and closer to your mattress. When your back is against the sheets Anton climbs on, refusing the break contact. You look so pretty underneath him, eyes squeezing shut again when another wave of realization hits you. You’ve never been in this position before, with someone like Anton looming over you while still being so sweet. He runs his hand over the apple of your cheek, and fixes your shirt that left your stomach exposed.
“Is this okay?” Anton asks.
He knows it is, because your legs seemed to spread a little bit more and more with each passing second. By the time his hand drifts down to your neck you’re completely open, your soft pants bunching at the place Anton wants to touch you next. The valley of your chest gives him a straight path down, and your bent legs open further.
“Want me to touch you?” He asks.
He knows he’s cruel. You’re metaphorically dead and his face is covered in blood, but still he continues. He’s jumping around your body, reaching out a playful hand like you have the life to play back.
“Please touch me.” You whine pitifully.
Anton presses a chaste kiss to your forehead as his hands work past the elastic band of your pants and underwear. You flinch from his hands, then you preen your hips towards his fingers, then you pull back. He’s mocking when he coos at you, the time pressing a kiss to the side of your head. He almost feels bad. You’re clearly fighting against something, your eyes are shut tight as you press your head into the mattress. Anton tries kissing your eyes open, but it only makes you squeeze them tighter.
With you writhing underneath him, he took the time to look around your room. Your little pegboard above your desk where you had calendar marked with all the important due dates of upcoming assignments. Your neatly placed books and papers, your stuffed animals around your pillows. You didn’t make your bed this morning, instead laying on crumbled sheets and gripping whatever you could get your hands on. Your hand went to Anton’s forearm and clutched it, whimpering something that he couldn’t decipher.
“Does it feel good?” He asks.
You nod, and when Anton tries to pull away he feels your nails dig into his forearm. You seem unaware of what you’re doing, how you’re silently begging him to keep going. You’re just moving underneath him, already beginning to twitch helplessly. Anton purposefully pushes his fingers deeper into your clit until he knows he’s bringing you the smallest amount of pain. He’s pulling the strings, watching your body react to him because you can’t control it. By this point the girls would already be asking him to take his pants off, but you can’t even form a coherent thought. He’s having fun in his jeans, watching you twitch and twist and grip his arm with all your might.
“Anton.”
You flick your hips up and he presses his hand to your hip, pinning you to the bed. You still try to swivel, useless against his strength. He’s intrigued that you aren’t trying to be defiant but you simply can’t help it. All the other girls were pliant immediately, so desperate to please the quiet boy in class they underestimated. You’re defiant because you can’t handle it.
“What’s up?” He asks.
His completely even voice makes you whine. The flush across your cheeks tells him you’re embarrassed, red hot and real unlike his facade.
You don’t answer him. You just dig your nails into his arm and attempt to get his prodding fingers to slide in. He raises his eyebrows at your not-so-subtle attempts to get him to inside of you.
“You want me to finger you?” He asks.
You nod like a good girl and Anton almost feels bad for asking you the question in a mocking tone. He makes up for it by giving you what you want immediately, sucking in a deep breath to match your deep breath. He smiles when he sees you arch off the bed. This is so much more entertaining than anything else. Just two fingers has you making unfiltered noises and gripping the sheets. Anton has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing, and he has half a mind to ask you if you’re okay in a serious tone. But he just continues driving his fingers into your hole.
He picks up the speed, just to hear the lewd sound you two make. It’s wet, Anton can already feel the mess on the palm of his hand. He pulls your waistband down to your knees, bringing your thighs closer together. He has to fight against your soft thighs clenching around his hand. He’s still able to drive his fingers in and out of your heat. He likes the resistance even though you clearly want more. Anton is surprised when you lift your shirt on your own accord. It’s obvious you’re doing it to relieve some of the heat you feel, but he’s still flattered nonetheless. His hand presses against your stomach, applying force to the lowest part.
“I can’t.” You whimper.
That’s when Anton finally laughs. He chuckles at how panicked you sound and how you turn your head in embarrassment.
“Do you want me to stop?” He asks while picking up the speed of his hand.
You nod your head but when Anton tries to pull his hand away you clench your thighs to keep him in place. He chuckles again, situating one legs on the side of your body and the other between your closed legs. He casts a shadow on you below him, and he can see your eyes open the slightest bit from his movements. He drives your legs apart with his knee, and continues pumping that spot deep in you that leaves you shaking your head.
“I can’t.” You whimper.
“You can.” Anton sees your eyes open, wide and staring directly at him as he drives your legs apart further. “You’re so close.” He says.
Your entire body moves from the speed of his fingers. Even your chests jumps underneath your shirt, and he wants to lift it up to reveal the rest of you. He lets you take it at your own pace since you’re giving him so much already. He just pinches and grabs a handful of your stomach, marveling in how soft you are.
“So cute.” Anton coos. “You had no idea, right?” He asks.
You shake your head and you don’t stop shaking it, like you’re trying to will away your impeding orgasm. Anton watches all of it. He’s never had a pretty girl twitch for him so much, or reach a greedy hand up to grip your chest. Something you do when you’re close, something he wants to do for you. His hand superimposes yours, and grips harder too. You’re arching into his palm and preening your hips on his fingers, and then he watches your body go rigid.
“You’re cumming.” Anton teases.
Your whimpering yes rips through the room, and Anton feels wound up himself. He has to set his sights on something else. Pretty confident girls are fun, but seeing your shame manifest in the way you push and pull at him is much more intoxicating. He likes that he knows what you want but you’re too scared to say it, it’s your body that has to act on its own to fulfill your needs. When you continue going, and your strangled moans turn to broken oh my God’s and your legs start shaking, Anton knows he won’t be able to get enough. He keeps pushing you further because he knows you can take it, and you continue whimpering. He doesn’t stop until you sound panicked, and your hand starts pushing his away.
He still looks down at you with a smile on his face. Your head is turned towards your fluffy comforter, exhaling and inhaling so hard you move the fur with your breath. He’s satisfied seeing what he’s done to you, and he’s even more amused when you turn your head to face him.
Your eyes are wide, your lips are swollen and slick from your mindless drooling. Anton feels something in his chest when your eyes move past his body to the prominent bulge in his pants. He’s a step ahead, shaking his head and moving back to rest on his haunches. That comes later, when he plays with you some more and you start voicing how badly you want to please him. When you reach your hand towards his crotch Anton grabs your hand instead, intertwining your fingers.
“I just wanted to make you feel good.” He says.
He’s a sweetheart, after all.
338 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hot tea: Choose mug. Fill mug with water. Dump water into whistling teakettle. Put teakettle on burner, turn on burner nice and high. Put small amount of sugar (or not) into mug. Choose tea. I'm not supposed to do caffeine because of multiple sleep disorders but I always have one box of nice strong caffeine-full black tea in case it it's going to be a strenuous day, like driving to a different city strenuous. Mostly it's decaf Irish or English Breakfast (yes there's a difference no I can't use taste as a diagnostic tool to tell them apart in a blind taste test), or if it's afternoon Earl Grey or Roastaroma which is an herbal infusion not tea but it's mostly chicory and does what I need it to. Anyway, one tea bag into the mug, continue making breakfast or whatever. When kettle whistles, pour over tea bag, let sit while I finish what else I'm doing. Leave the teabag in it, drink it.
(It is important to only put as much water as you're going to use into a teakettle. Twice-boiled water doesn't taste right. I think you've concentrated the mineral content by boiling and then leaving it evaporating? Even if your water is soft it can get stale and if your water is hard you don't want to have to descale your teakettle constantly.)
Cold tea don't turn your nose up at it till you've tried it when the air's so hot you get heat-sick within ten minutes of leaving the A/C, the only thing better for weather that hot is lemonade and I don't mean lemon-lime soda or the powdered abomination I mean lemon juice and sugar and water: First thing in the morning, fill quart Ball jar (or Mason; the lid and the size are what matter) with water. Put in one large bag of standard orange pekoe (decaf in my case) "formulated for ice tea" or three bags of above-mentioned decafs. Put lid on tight in location where it'll get sun. Go away till lunchtime. At lunchtime, shake it up a little (if the sun's not direct enough the steep will lurk in the bottom) till it's a nice even clear tea-brown, pour into a tall glass over ice. I'm going to tell you my heresy: Iced tea is better unsweet, far and away more refreshing. Traditional Southern sweet tea might as well be Kool-Aid. Put the lid back on and leave the quart jar on the windowsill or if it's even more desperately hot into refrigerator, with teabags still in; return to it when glass is empty and pour the (now stronger) mixture over new ice (because I chewed up what didn't melt; ice is delicious). Finish quart by suppertime, put teabags in compost and wash jar to start process again tomorrow morning. Don't worry, it won't get cloudy from steeping all day. You'll drink it up too fast for that. You didn't lose any water from boiling or evaporating (because lid) so it won't lose it's freshness in less than 24 hours.
If you have ice-tea-drinking company, get a gallon jar - you can buy jars with spigots specifically for sun tea - and use three large or ten small teabags. It's possible it'll still be good overnight if it's not all drunk up, but it'd be best to drink it up for breakfast. When it's that hot you'll probably want your breakfast tea cold anyway. In fact, I sometimes omit the "sun" from "sun tea" and put together a quart at suppertime to leave overnight so I have cold tea to drink for breakfast, if it's hot enough. A 12-hour or so steep works fine in that weather.
Asking Americans specifically: reblog and put in the tags how do you make tea.
10K notes
·
View notes
Text
ramen & fate | boo seungkwan
SUMMARY: in which you meet a rich guy at the convenience store during a late night ramen run.
PAIRING: chaebol!seungkwan x reader
THEMES: strangers to lovers, meet cute kinda
WARNINGS: fluff, use of curse words
WORDCOUNT: 2.4k
A/N: @wheeboo happy birthday my love! this is a little gift from me to you! this is such a silly idea but i thought i'd write it out for you and i hope you like it <3
you walk into the convenience store and walk inside and the faint sound of pop music hums from the speakers overhead, blending with the quiet hum of the refrigerators in the back. you barely notice any of it though because your mission is clear - ramen. you really needed a ramen fix right now.
you make a beeline for the ramen aisle, the craving gnawing at you and nothing else would do now, not after the day you've had. there's a strange comfort in that little cup of noodles, in its simplicity, in the way it tastes exactly how you expected it to. your eyes scan the shelves and you spot your favourite ramen, only to find one left on the shelf. you immediately reach for it without a second thought, but so does someone else.
your fingers brush against another hand, and you pause, startled. your eyes follow the hand, trailing up a crisp white sleeve, past a perfectly tailored suit jacket, until they land on the face of the man reaching for the same cup of ramen. he’s tall so you have to tilt your head slightly to meet his gaze. his expression is cool, almost unreadable, his jawline sharp and sleek, his styled hair making him look like he just walked off the set of some corporate drama.
"oh," you say, blinking as your hand hovers over the cup.
he looks down at you, his brows lifting slightly as if in mild surprise, but he doesn’t immediately pull his hand back. "looks like we’ve got the same taste," he says, his voice smooth.
you blink at him and wrack your brain for a response before you let out a nervous laugh. "well, it is the best one", you reply as you look at him.
he smirks faintly, tilting his head. "i agree, but there’s only one left."
there’s a pause, the moment stretching out as both of you keep your hands over the cup of ramen and suddenly this feels like some sort of high-stakes negotiation situation.
"i—uh—had a long day," you say, trying to justify your claim, though you immediately feel silly for doing so. "i really need this ramen".
his smirk softens into something resembling amusement. "and you think i don’t?", he counters, raising a brow at you. "i’ve had back-to-back meetings since seven this morning", he says.
"well, i’ve been running around non-stop too", you protest, your grip on the edge of the shelf tightening. his gaze flickers between you and the ramen before he exhales, and lets out a small resigned sigh and to your surprise, he takes his hand away.
"alright," he says, stepping back slightly. "you win, take it", he says as his hand swings down. "really? thanks," you say, though your tone is cautious, like you’re not entirely sure this isn’t some kind of trick.
he gives you a small nod, then glances at his watch, grabbing a different ramen from the shelf and walking to a different aisle without sparing you another glance. you blink, a little confused but get about on your mission to get the ramen. you grab a few more stuff, some kimbap and something to drink and make your way to the cash counter when you spot the man in the suit again.
"i'm sorry sir, but i don't have change for such a big bill", you hear the worker say. "unless you buy items for that amount, i don't really have a way to give you back your change", the worker continues.
you walk front and put your stuff on the counter. "i'll pay for his stuff", you say and he looks at you.
"i've got it, i'm sure i have smaller bills somewhere", he says as he pulls out his wallet and your eyes nearly pop out with the fat wad of cash you see in it, all big bills. what the fuck. you decide to ignore what you just saw and by the time the man in the suit is digging his wallet, you've already paid for your stuff, his included.
you take your things and towards the corner of the store to cook your ramen. once the ramen is done, you take a seat and that's when the man in the suit appears again. he’s got his own ramen cup in hand, the sleeve of his tailored suit pushed up slightly to reveal an expensive looking watch. he moves methodically, peeling back the lid of his ramen cup and pouring in the hot water with a steady hand, there's no hesitation and no fumbling. he catches your gaze, and you quickly look away, suddenly very interested in your own noodles. you can feel his eyes on you for a moment, but then he goes back to his ramen, silent and composed. you sneak another glance at him and think to yourself - he is pretty handsome.
you’re halfway through your noodles, the warm broth hitting just the right spot on a cold night before you hear the shuffle of footsteps coming towards you.
"mind if i sit?" he asks, his voice smooth and you nod. he sits down with a kind of effortless grace, setting his ramen down in front of him and adjusting his sleeves like he’s dining at a michelin-star restaurant instead of a dingy convenience store. you focus on your noodles, hoping he won’t notice the way your gaze keeps flickering back to him and you watch as he stirs his ramen and takes a bite.
"you didn’t have to pay for my stuff, you know," he says after a bite, breaking the silence.
"it’s not a big deal," you reply with a shrug. "maybe you should carry smaller bills next time", you tell and you can see the faint smile on his face.
"i swear i thought i had change on me", he says, rather to himself.
"doesn’t seem like you need to worry about it," you remark before you can stop yourself. “i mean, with a wallet like that.”
his smile widens slightly, and he leans back in his chair, resting an elbow casually on the table. "appearances can be deceiving," he says, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent you can’t quite place.
you raise an eyebrow. "right, and expensive suits and fat wads of cash are just a camouflage?", you ask.
"something like that," he replies, and there’s a glimmer in his eyes now like he’s enjoying this back and forth talk, like he's amused by you.
you huff out a soft laugh as you shake your head. "well, next time you’re low on change, i suggest hitting the ATM before wandering into a convenience store", you tell and he nods.
"noted," he says, and there’s a warmth to his voice now.
"i’d like to pay you back", he says after a moment, but you shake your head.
"that's not necessary," you reply, waving a dismissive hand. "it’s just ramen", you say.
and he just looks at you, and it looks like he wants to say something more, but he settles for giving you a small smile instead. "alright, if you’re sure".
after finishing his meal, he gathers his things, straightens his perfectly tailored suit and offers you a polite, "thanks again," before leaving.
you think that’s the last you’ll see of him, until you notice something on the table, his sleek black leather wallet, the kind that practically screams expensive. your eyes widen as your hands reach out for it and you mutter under your breath.
grabbing the wallet, you flip it open and find a few crisp bills (all large denominations, of course), some credit cards and a single business card tucked inside, but there's no name, just a logo and a phone number. you hesitate for a moment before you decide to call the number, but it goes straight to voicemail.
for the next few days, you keep the wallet with you, figuring he’ll eventually call back or text or come looking for it, but nothing. it’s not until a few days later, when you’re rushing through a crowded sidewalk with a bag of groceries in one hand and your phone in the other, that fate decides to intervene. you’re trying to balance too many things at once, not paying attention to where you’re going, when you collide hard into someone coming from the opposite direction. the impact sends your phone clattering to the ground and your grocery bag spilling open. "oh, come on!" you groan, crouching to pick up your things.
"sorry about that", a familiar voice says, and you freeze mid-reach.
you glance up to see him, the ramen guy, in his perfectly tailored suit guy, crouching down to help. he looks as polished as ever, his suit immaculate despite the chaos of the street and he notices you at the same time, and his eyes widen slightly.
"you," he says, clearly surprised.
"you," you reply, just as surprised. "i've been looking for you, you left this", you say after you've gathered all your groceries and stand up. you dig into your bag and bring out his wallet, handing it over to him.
his expression shifts. "i didn’t even realize it was missing until yesterday, but by then, i figured it was gone for good", he says as he looks at you.
"well, lucky for you i found it,” you say as you hold it out for him. he takes it from you, his fingers brushing yours briefly, and his smile softens. “you have no idea how much this means, thank you", he says
"you’re welcome," you reply and he looks down at the wallet in his hand, then back at you.
“i owe you, again", he says. "let me buy you dinner, it's the least i can do, please", he asks and you blink, caught off guard.
"dinner? that's...", you trail off as you chew on your lip, considering his offer. "but you don't even know me?", you say, unsure.
"i'll take my chances", he says, a small smile playing on his lips.
“alright,” you say, nodding. “dinner sounds nice.”
the smile that spreads across his face is slow and warm, like sunlight breaking through clouds and it softens his polished, professional look, making him seem boyish almost.
"i didn't get your name", you ask.
"i'm seungkwan", he says, holding out his hand and you reach for it, shaking it, the warmth of his hand engulfing you. "yn", you say, giving him a small smile.
you both exchange numbers and you head home, and it's only then that you wonder if he'll actually follow through. and a few days later, your phone buzzes with a text from him.
ramen guy: this is seungkwan, does friday evening work for dinner? let me know what time works for you.
you reply quickly and his response comes almost immediately.
ramen guy: perfect, i’ll take care of everything, looking forward to it.
when friday arrives, you find yourself standing in front of the address he sent—a restaurant that looks like it was plucked straight from a luxury travel magazine. the building is sleek and modern, its glass walls shimmering in the golden hour light. your nerves spike as you step through the grand entrance and suddenly you're thinking that this must be some kind of joke, that he must have sent you the wrong address by mistake because holy shit, you could barely afford this place. a host greets you with a warm smile when you walk inside. “you must be here for mr. boo seungkwan” they say, their tone polite but knowing. boo seungkwan?
the person guides you towards a private dining room and it's a beautifully set table near the window that overlooks the city skyline. you spot him waiting there and he stands up the moment he spots you, a smile lighting up his face.
he was wearing an all-black suit, and it was perfect for him, tailored to perfection, the fit making him incredibly handsome and attractive and the fit made him look effortlessly sophisticated, yet there was an ease to his posture that made him seem grounded. his dark hair was styled just enough to look intentionally tousled, a few stray strands falling over his forehead. there was something about the way he carried himself, confident but not cocky, poised but not stiff. his smile was the same: genuine and unpretentious, like he wasn’t trying to impress anyone, yet somehow, in that black suit, he couldn’t help but leave an impression.
“you made it,” he says, his tone warm as he steps forward to pull out your chair for you. "yeah", you say softly, still trying to take in the posh ambience around you.
as the evening unfolds, you’re surprised by how easy he is to talk to. he’s incredibly down-to-earth and he listens intently, laughs at your jokes, and is just so sweet, a complete gentleman. his genuine interest in you, paired with his relaxed nature, made the evening feel warm and comfortable and didn't make you feel intimidated anymore.
“so, what exactly do you do?”, you ask, looking at him.
he hesitates for a moment, then shrugs lightly. “family business,” he says, clearly trying to downplay it. “it’s not that exciting.”
"so what exactly is this family business?", you ask but seungkwan only chuckles softly in response. "it's not as cool as you think. let’s just say it's a lot of paperwork, meetings, and business stuff", he makes an exaggerated motion of his hands like he was emphasizing the mundanity of it all. the date ends on a good note and he even offers to drop you home, but you decline, not wanting to impose on him anymore.
it isn’t until days later, when you’re scrolling through your phone that you stumble across an article and you realize just who he is.
heir to the boo family conglomerate, boo seungkwan spotted at his newest restaurant with someone: who’s the mystery guest?
your jaw drops as your eyes scan the article, which details his family’s massive business empire—including restaurant chains, luxury hotels, and even media companies. the photo accompanying the article shows him stepping out of the very restaurant where you had dinner with him, wearing the same outfit he had that evening, looking effortlessly handsome and polished as always.
and just then your phone buzzes with a new message from him at that exact moment:
ramen guy: i hope you enjoyed the dinner last time. let me know when you’re free again, i owe you another one.
taglist: @joshuaahong @paindivinemp3 @fallingforshua29 @itsveronicaxxx @frankenstein852
@weird-bookworm @mirxzii @naaaaafla @wheeboo @icyminghao
@lvlystars @gyubakeries @wootify @ihrtboo @n4mj00nvq
@yoozuku
#skye's writing!#caratlibrary#k-labels#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#seventeen scenarios#seventeen x reader#seventeen drabbles#seventeen soft hours#svt imagines#svt ff#skye thoughts#svt fluff#svt fanfic#svt scenarios#svt x reader#seungkwan imagines#seungkwan fluff#seungkwan x reader
309 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ice Cream (part 3)
Part 1 Part 2
Summary: the shadow needs to be put on timeout.
•○●⛦●○•
Word Count: 1821
Warnings: literally just fluff. azzie being a shy baby again🥹ALSO SHADOWS BEING MENACES BWAHAHAHAA💀 az is like an old asian parent tired of his kids bs 😭
A/n: ooof i love the shadows omg there such a pain in az's lil ass lmaoo. the one smartass shadow in the first part comes back to steal the spotlight and to make az's life miserable by its jabs lol🥹
ALSO THIS IS THE LAST PART IN THIS SERIES IM SO HAPPY OML I LOVED WRITING THIS 🥹😭
anyways, enjoyyy🥹🤭
(ps. the idea for shadows writing yn's name on az was given by @ayme301 hehe so thank youuuu 🥹❣️)
°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°
Azriel had a routine. He always did.
Wake up, train, have something to eat, send reports to Rhys, analyse more reports, go onto missions if he had any, and train some more. It was always the same variation of the same few things.
But for a month now, his routine had a new addition. Having her on his mind every moment of every day.
His mind kept wandering to the colour of her eyes, the texture of her hair, the slight tilt to her lips when she found something he did funny. The way her quick wit and subtle hints of her boldness showed through her cold exterior as she slowly began to let her guard down around him, the way her eyes began to light up ever so lightly when she saw him as the two spent more and more time together.
She had become an important part of his routine, and he did not have a single problem with it, even as it put strain on him to finish up his work sooner so no one would suspect he was getting distracted from his duty.
Having her on his mind constantly, it was hard to focus on what his family was doing as they all sat in a booth at Rita’s, because he was too busy wondering what Y/n might be doing tonight. Maybe she was at her home, reading and sipping tea. Maybe she was out with her friends. Maybe she was by herself, wandering through the countless shops displaying items irresistible to anyone.
Maybe she was thinking of him.
The last thought had sudden heat travelling to Azriel’s cheeks, and he willed his shadows to cover him in case his family took notice of it as he lifted his almost empty cup of the alcoholic beverage Cassian had shoved into his hands to his lips.
Azriel looked up, glancing out of the window near the booth his family occupied, hoping that if Y/n really was out, she would walk by. It would certainly be a treat to his eyes and a soothing distraction from the overstimulation that was the inner circle.
"Az?"
He blinked, glancing over to Feyre, who stared at Az with furrowed brows. "Yes?"
She stared at him for a moment, a moment in which Azriel quickly looked over everyone present over the table. All their eyes were fixed on him, some confused, some curious. "We asked if you’re in for the game?"
Az straightened, setting his glass on the table and wrapped his arms around his chest. "Sure."
Cassian lifted a brow. "Do you even know what we’re playing?" Azriel’s cheeks flushed at the knowing look in his brother’s eyes, and he glanced down at his lap, clearing his throat and waiting for a shadow to fill him in on what was going on.
Master needs to learn to pay attention.
Azriel turned his head slightly to scowl at the particular shadow, and it bobbed away happily, as if unaware of his glare. But thankfully, another shadow floated up to his ear to whisper.
Truth or drink. They wish to probe and do your work.
The shadow that had initially hurried away from Azriel slithered back up his neck.
Be nosy, that is.
Azriel would have glared had he not had to turn back to his family. He nodded slightly, clearing his throat. "Truth or drink. I’m in."
Cassian leaned back, shooting a look that irked Azriel to Rhysand, who leaned forward on the table with a shit eating grin. "Let’s start with you then, brother. Who is keeping you so distracted and bothered all the time?"
Azriel clenched his jaw, releasing a breath through his nose, contemplating whether it was worth telling his family and bringing himself to his doom at their gossiping hands.
Before he could settle on his choice to drink, his shadows had already made the decision.
"Y…" Mor squinted, her brows furrowed, and Azriel’s blood ran cold when he heard the first few syllables of her name. "Y/n?"
Azriel stared at Mor, who smirked, her eyes fixed on Azriel’s forehead as she leaned back. Azriel looked around at all his friends, wondering what the hell was going on and how they knew Y/n’s name. And then a shadow moved closer to his ear.
Y/n.
Y/n Y/n Y/n.
Azriel reeled in his frustration at the less than helpful chanting, but then the same shadow hit his chin, prompting him to lift it, and his eyes landed on her.
She wore a simple black dress, the thing covering everything and leaving everything up to imagination with the high neck and long sleeves and skirts. Her hair was open, and she looked just as beautiful as she always did.
And she was looking right at him, her lips spread in a smile as she stood right behind Cassian, seemingly having stood up from the booth next to them.
In the back of his mind, Azriel knew his family was looking at him in concern when he said nothing, but he couldn’t care less as he stared at that smile, the one he had seen for the first time ever.
She is beautiful.
She never smiled more than the slight tilts to her lips, and maybe it was for the good, because if he had seen that smile earlier, he might already be married right now. She was so mesmerising, it was a miracle Azriel hadn’t asked her to be his on the first ever outing to the ice cream shop the two had been to. But if he had seen her offer him that smile, he would have gone too far in love, he knew.
Master needs to stop drooling, he looks like a baby.
And ugly.
Azriel almost turned to scowl, but he did not want to miss even a moment of the smile on her face. But that also led him to the question. Why was she smiling?
She giggled lightly, and he only knew because he saw her throat muscles move as she lifted a finger to her forehead, then pointed at him.
And then Azriel realised.
He quickly lifted his hand to his head, whipping away the shadow that would not stop acting like a smartass teenager. After he was sure the shadow was gone and no longer using his forehead as some sort of writing surface to announce to the world his feelings for a certain bookstore owner, he swallowed and stood, trying to excuse himself.
But Cassian turned, looking right at Y/n. "Are you Y/n?"
The eyes Azriel always found himself lost in lifted to meet his own hazel ones, her cheeks turning a deeper shade as she tried to stop smiling. Azriel could see the blush on her face, even in the dim lighting, and he thanked the mother for his eyesight.
Y/n not having her guard up at all times was not a sight everyone was blessed to witness.
She nodded lightly, glancing around at the rest of Azriel’s friends before giving him a small wave. She turned and walked out after her friends, who laughed among themselves. She did shoot him a glance before she walked out, but then she was gone.
Azriel turned, trying to see if there was any way he could escape his confines, having been pushed to sit between the window and Feyre. And when he didn’t, he climbed onto the seat and stepped behind her, then Rhysand, whispering apologies as he hopped onto the ground and broke into a sprint, hoping to catch up to Y/n.
His family tried to call after him, but Azriel was a male on a mission, and a very skilled one at that.
He stepped out into the cold night air, his eyes landing on Y/n waving at her friends as they went the opposite direction. He swallowed, hoping she would not mind his presence and walked towards her. She probably felt his proximity, as when she turned, she only smiled at him and gestured for him to walk with her.
A shadow floated close to Azriel to inform him of the way his family was watching him like hawks from the window they had sat next to, and when Azriel turned to look, sure enough, Cassian and feyre scrambled away, while Rhysand, Mor and Nesta looked like they were trying too hard to act nonchalant.
"They really are nosy." Y/n’s soft voice reached Azriel, and he turned to offer her an exasperated look.
"And I deal with it everyday."
She laughed, gently slipping her hand to hold his arm. Instantly, his pulse was galloping.
Master is no better than a schoolboy.
Azriel shot a glare to the darned shadow, wondering if there was a chance he could put it in timeout.
"So… I keep you distracted, huh?" Y/n spoke after a moment, making Azriel’s ears go warm.
"I…"
She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder as the two walked the rest of the way in silence. Azriel only heard her laugh ring in his ears, wishing and praying that he would be blessed enough by the mother to hear the beautiful sound for the rest of his life.
Only once the two were at her apartment doors did she pull away and step forward, towards the entrance before turning to him, around an arms length of distance between the two.
Too much.
"So?"
Azriel folded his hands at his back, smiling slightly. "So?"
She leaned back against the wall, humming. "When am I meeting the family then?"
His breath hitched. "You… want to?"
She lifted a brow. "You don’t?"
Azriel shook his head, looking down at his boots. "I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, and I know they can be a lot sometimes."
He heard her move closer to him, lifting his eyes to meet her gaze once both her hands had reached out to hold one of his. "I think I am ready, Az."
Az. She called me Az.
He leaned his head closer to her. "What do I get if I take you to meet them?"
She blinked at him. "Oh, I don’t know, maybe you get to tell everyone you are courting me? And you can stop having to sneak around to meet me?"
He grinned, hearing those words spoken into the space between them as he touched his forehead to hers. "Hmm… not enough. I want more."
She snorted. "And what is that?"
"Maybe you take me out to the ice cream shop again." He reached up to touch her cheek, his eyes fixated on the way her skin seemed to contrast with his.
"And this time, we will get a huge bucket of mint chocolate, and share it. Like a real couple."
She smiled again, rolling onto her tiptoes to press her lips to his cheek.
"Mint chocolate it is."
°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°
Permanent Taglist: @berryzxx @sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut
@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @serenescureforboredom @cassie6392 @harrystylesfan2686
@olives-main @hijabi-desi-bookworm @dnfhascorruptedme
Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686
@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1
@hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21
@mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @lady-of-tearshed @starsinyourseyes
@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady
@lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @garden-of-runar @girlswithimagination
@sunnyspycat @artists-ally @milswrites @kingdomofstarrynights
@berryzxx @buttermilktea11 @loving-and-dreaming @yucanbmylxdy
@mellowmusings @dnfhascorruptedme @fuckingsimp4azriel
Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend
@stqrgirlies-blog @tele86 @bakananya @xyzmeh
@st4r-girl-official @caraaaaugh @nacho-nat @allllium
@fandomarchiveilyd @nickishadow139 @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @okaytrashpanda
@celestialgilb @donnadiddadog
#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#azriel spymaster#azriel shadowsinger#shadowsinger x reader#Acotar fanfic#mating bond#a court of thorns and roses#azriel fluff#acotar fandom#acotar series#Shadowsinger#spymaster#fluff#azriel fic#azriel fanfic#sarah j maas#acotar headcanon#acotar smut#Acotar writing#acotar fluff#acotar x reader#reader insert#azriel#pro azriel
178 notes
·
View notes
Text
─── INTO YOU ୨୧
PAIRING. fem!reader x jake sim﹒୨𝑒 ゚ ˖ FEATURING. heeseung as your older brother CONTENT. brother's bestfriend to ?? , smut , p in v , unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it !!) , kitchen sex , breast & nipple play , grinding , cursing , dirty talk , petnames , cumming inside , jake likes to tease ;3 , mention of pillow humping NOTE. not proofread & lowercase is intended !! enjoy this yummy smut fic ≧ᗜ≦
the one and only, jake sim— heeseung's closest friend since the eighth grade. him and heeseung were both older than you, jake being born in 2002 and heeseung being born in 2001. not that age really mattered, though. ever since heeseung had first introduced jake to you, you'd always felt like he was a bit immature. too loud, too mischevious, just not your cup of tea. even at the ripe age of 21, you still saw him as a boy.
it wasn't until he turned 22 that you'd realized something changed.
it seemed as though jake had finally grown into a man— and a very good-looking one at that.
he changed the way he dressed, swapping out his skinny jeans for baggy cargo pants and sweatpants and plain hoodies for leather jackets and much more. he'd also gotten a haircut and learned how to style it.
quite the opposite of what'd you expect from him.
he also started wearing cologne— a clean but musky scent that you really liked.
you never expected yourself to ever be attracted to jake, but it happened. you were actually starting to find the one and only, jake sim, attractive.
at first, you were definitely in denial, comprehending the whole situation. you'd practically despised him since you'd first laid your eyes on him, god you couldn't believe it.
"hey y/n" jake waved at you from across the living room as you made your way downstairs to grab a cup of water.
"hey" you simply replied, not wanting to give him too much attention. you didn't even spare him a glance. you couldn't, or else you'd probably turn red.
even though you didn't look at him, directly— you could see him from your peripheral vision. he was wearing a pair of baggy grey sweatpants, a fitted black tank top, and a hat that he was wearing backwards. you could also tell that he was very obviously manspreading.
he looked hot as fuck.
of course, jake had noticed how you avoided him these days. he noticed how you would never make eye-contact, never glance at him, and never even really speak to him. he usually brushed it off as something to due with tiredness or stress, but today it felt different— like you were avoiding him for a very different reason.
you'd just gotten a glass from the cupboard and walked over to the fridge to fill it up when you heard him get up from the couch.
' oh, he's probably just going to the bathroom ' you thought.
you'd convinced yourself of that until you felt jake's presence right behind you.
"y/n" he said while clearing his throat, trying to grab your attention.
no, you had to make a run for it. you couldn't embarrass yourself infront of jake, especially right now— you weren't even wearing any makeup.
you quickly put down the glass of water on the nearest counter top and started to speed-walk away from him when you felt a grip on your wrist.
"jake, i need to go—" you were about to make a stupid excuse, until he cut you off.
"no y/n, you don't need to go anywhere right now." he says in an almost stern tone of voice, pulling you towards him by your wrist. "you know, i can tell that you're avoiding me... right?
you nervously laugh in response. were you that obvious or was he just really good at reading people?
"wasn't avoiding you..." you say under your breath. anyone could tell that you were lying, it was blatantly obvious— how you stared at the grown and wouldn't dare to get any closer to him.
"you sure, pretty?" he swiftly moves his hand from your wrist to your waist and pulls you even closer to him.
he was so close to you, you could even feel his breath on your face. you swore you could hear his heartbeat, too.
you froze, voice caught in your throat. everything was happening way too quick, you weren't even processing anything right now.
"cat got your tongue?" he chuckles, bringing his hand to your chin— indicating for you to look at him.
you reluctantly look up at him and wow. he was just gorgeous. seeing him this up-close gave you the craziest butterflies you'd ever felt. his tall nose, plump lips, pretty puppy eyes, and honey-tanned skin really did it for you.
jake felt the same way about you. he hadn't seen you this close since... forever. you'd always been pretty, but you were absolutely beautiful, now. the way your eyes were shining, the natural shade of your lips, your bare skin— you looked like an angel.
"you're so handsome" you say as if in a daze, your lips betraying you.
it's not until he plants a peck on your lips that you realize what you'd just said.
"mm, see? i knew it" jake says as he wraps both arms around your waist and turns you around— so that your back is against his chest.
all you could do was let out a weak whimper in response.
"it's okay pretty, i think you're so so gorgeous" he tells you in a low, raspy voice— his hot breath lingering on your skin.
before you can process what just happened in the last 10 seconds, he's quick to turn you around. only now, you're facing him.
jake is quick to pull you into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. you wrap your arms around his neck as his large hands find your ass, groping it.
"shit baby, you taste so good" jake manages to groan out in-between kisses.
you'd been daydreaming about jake lately. especially about how he'd kiss you. however, nothing could compare to how he actually kissed you. the way his plump lips felt as though they were molded for yours. the way he was basically attacking the insides of your mouth with his tongue. god, he was such a good kisser.
you tangle your hands in his pretty black hair as you deepen the kiss. in one swift motion, jake picks you up and gently places you on the cold, granite countertop.
growing needier and needier by the second, you start to rut your clothed cunt against his erect cock.
you both pull away from the kiss, breathless and in a daze. jake is quick to grind his hips up into yours.
"fuuckkk" he moans as he throws his head back, "feels s' good, pretty— fuckk"
your lips form an "O" shape as you squeeze your eyes shut, the pleasure almost unbearable.
sure, you'd humped your pillow thinking of jake, but this was definitely more than a thousand times better.
"jae— ngh!" you lay back onto the countertop as jake pulls your hips closer to his, increasing the friction.
"call me that again" he grunts in a deep yet breathless tone of voice, pretty black hair sticking to his already sweaty forehead.
"faster jae! faster!" you moan out in almost a shriek. you're not sure how much of a mess you are right now, you just know that you feel so fucking good.
before you can even catch on, you feel that familiar feeling in your stomach— you were so close, so close to cumming. and right before you reached your climax, jake pulled his hips away from yours.
jake catches how you frown at the loss of friction and laughs.
"not funny..." you say, staring at his veiny hands and forearms.
"never thought it was funny, princess. just want you to cum on my cock"
you feel your pussy get even more soppy at his dirty words. you knew that your panties were most definitely soaked, at this point.
"that's what you want, right pretty girl?" he asks, already knowing what you're going to answer. he just wanted to tease you a little.
pretty, pretty girl, baby, princess— all the petnames were killing you. not only that but his thick accent, too.
"yes" you mumble.
"hm?" he teases, slowly removing your pajama top— loving how your ears go completely red.
"yes please jae— " you're caught off guard by a warm, wet feeling around your nipple, jake's mouth. he's flicking your hardened nub with his tongue while groping your other breast with his hand.
"oh fuckk jaee" you whine, the feeling unfamiliar but so good.
the pleasure he's giving you right now is quite literally insane. you didn't know what to do with yourself, you were a moaning mess. your hair was sticking to you forehead, your skin was glistening with sweat, and your eyes were rolled all the way to the back of your head.
you weren't the only one that was a moaning mess, jake was too. he was lost in the pleasure, desperately grinding his hardened cock against your thigh toying your erect nipple with his tongue, your little moans and whimpers making him even harder— if that was even humanly possible.
"want you now, shit— please" you say, squirming around. jake finally removes his plump lips from your breast and looks at you, his gaze filled with both adoration and lust.
without saying a word, jake swiftly removes your pajama shorts and his black tank top and grey sweatpants.
now you're completely bare, and so is jake.
he was shamelessly eyeing every inch of your body, his eyes moving from your collarbones, to your perky breasts, to your puffy, neglected cunt. you were so beautiful, so so beautiful.
becoming impatient, you sit up and tug on the band of his boxers, indicating that you really needed him, inside of you— now.
"want me so bad, huh y/nnie?" he teases, once again. you squeeze your thighs together at his statement, feeling your wetness dripping out of your pussy onto your inner thighs.
you eagerly nod in response, not being able to form an actual response. he pulls down his boxers to reveal his cock, on display just for you.
he had such a pretty dick, i mean— what did you expect? he was jake sim, after all. the tip of his cock was a pretty pink, the same shade of pink as his lips. it had 3 prominent veins wrapping around it. the way it was proudly standing against his abs was causing you to drool.
jake guides your hand to his dick, wrapping your hand around it and guiding your hand up and down. you both moan at the feeling, you couldn't believe this was happening. neither could he.
"feel how hard i am? see it? just f' you, pretty" he tells you as you smear his precum all over the tip of his cock. he squeezes his eyes shut at how your soft hand feels against him, so fucking good.
you remove your hand and lay back on your forearms, bringing your hips closer, causing your wet pussy to rub against his tip. he opens his eyes at the sudden loss of movement. he looks down at you, only to quickly gasp at the feeling of his tip rubbing against your sticky folds.
"shittt" he moans in an almost whiney tone. the feeling of your bare, wet cunt against his cock was making him lose his sanity. he swears he could cum just from this.
you're both grinding against eachother, until you feel his hips pull away from yours.
"jake wha—" you're immediately cut off by jake. not with words, though.
it's the feeling of his large, erect cock inside your gummy walls. you didn't even notice him sliding his dick into your pussy because of how absolutely wet you were.
"felt like i was about to cum, had to be inside you incase i did" he grunts, once again bringing his hand to cup your breast.
neither one of you moves. you were still adjusting and jake was just holding back, he was so close to just letting loose and fucking your brains out.
however, it was now your turn to catch him off guard. you started moving your hips at a quick pace while rubbing your clit with your thumb.
"oh fuck baby, just like that, keep fucking yourself on my dick like that, shitt"
you clench around his cock at his words, causing him to let out a whiney moan. he quickly leans down and leaves wet kisses along your neck.
jake notices how you've seemed to slow down and decides that he's really going to fuck you now— like how he has wanted to for so, so long.
he begins thrusting into you as you lazily grind your cunt against his dick. he's slamming his cock so deep inside of you at such an animalistic pace, it's almost unbearable. but in a good way, of course.
"shit, shit, shit" he grunts out every time he thrusts his dick into you, his balls slamming against your plump ass.
all you can do is moan and whimper. your hands are grabbing onto his hair so hard you'd think he'd be in pain, but he actually finds it so pleasurable.
"pussy so wet f' me, love this pussy" he slows down just a little, thrusting deeper instead of faster. with the way he's fucking you right now, you can hear how your pussy squelches every time he thrusts into you.
"hngh! jae, 'm gonna cum, gonna cum—" you moan loudly as you pull him into a sloppy kiss, cutting yourself off.
jake wastes absolutely no time and starts fucking you at an unreal pace, much quicker than before. within no time, he finds your g-spot and places his hand on your clit, rubbing circles on it. your hands are still tangled in his hair, still pulling on it.
"yeah? gonna cum for me? cum on this dick, princess— shitt, holy fuck" he rambles dirty words on and on, bringing you closer to your climax.
before you know it— you're creaming his cock with your cum. you black out for a few seconds from your intense orgasm, as jake continues to slam into you. he's so close, so fucking close.
"gonna cum inside you, fuck, fuck, fuck— squeezing me so tight baby, shittt"
jake lets out a loud grunt as he spills his load into your warm cunt, holding your body close to his.
yeah, this was the first time you two had fucked, but it definitely wasn't the last.
please like, reblog, and comment if u enjoyed :3 u can find my other works here !
© mochiwonz ― all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, or translate my work.
#── mochiwonz ୨୧#jake sim#sim jaeyun#jake smut#enhypen#enhypen smut#jake x reader#enhypen x reader#jaeyun x reader#enha smut#smut#enhypen jake#jake imagines#jaeyun smut#enhypen scenarios#sim jake#jake enhypen#jake enha
223 notes
·
View notes
Text
I am a certified farm game lover. I have been playing this genre of game since my brother gave me his old game boy.
Harvest Moon may have been where the farm game genre really got most of its roots but it was quick to spawn more games (Rune Factory ect) that established the genre as a THING way back in the early 2000’s (maybe even earlier honestly).
Stardew Valley has so many obvious roots connecting it to old Harvest Moon and when I first started playing Stardew I assumed everyone knew that.
But I learned quickly that NO people don’t know that. And now EVERY SINGLE farm game gets accused of being a ‘stardew rip off’ which makes me feral!
Listen to me the Farm Game Genre is a THING it always has been and it always will be! No one is ripping anyone off there just making games in a long established and well loved genre! Seriously the Farm Sim tag exists on steam for a reason guys! Did Stardew help introduce people to the genre and add to its popularity? Yes of course. But it is not the first it will not be the last!
That being said if you like Stardew and want to experience other farm games a quick list I threw together:
Harvest Moon - the original HOWEVER i do not recommend any ‘modern’ Harvest Moon as there was an incident with the ownership of the name and now any Harvest Moon made past Harvest Moon 3D: A New Beginning (2012) is basically a fake brandishing the stolen name
Story of Seasons - the new name for the OG Harvest Moon people. They still make games. They’re on Switch and PC and they are pretty cute and fun.
Rune Factory - Farm Game with action rpg elements set in a fantasy world with dragons. An older series that is proof that the farm game genre has always been around. I recommend starting with RF 4 its a personal fav available on PC or Switch RF 5 is also good to start but ive heard others say it has framerate issues.
Stardew Valley - indie farm game that helped bring the farm game genre into the modern spotlight. Clear old school Harvest Moon inspo. Fun lots of mods active community. You probably already know it need i say more.
Sun Haven - indie chibi pixel rune factory light with like 20+ romancables in early access. A decent 7/10 farm game. I say get it on sale.
Fae Farm - 3D cute fantasy farm game type has. Free demo check it out. Playable with friends more farm focused less romance.
Paleo Pines - 3D farm game with dinosaurs has a free demo check it out. More farm focused from what I can see but hey DINOSAURS.
Roots of Pacha - Pixel art farm game taking place in the stone age. I tried the early access free demo available several months ago and found it very charming.
My Time At… - You may have heard of the My Time at Portia game if your in the farming game circle. They have since made more My Time At… farm games. They are more open world then others but have good reviews.
Coral Island - A recent release well liked by the community. It takes on a more modern art style for its characters but still has fantasy elements like mermaids.
Moonlight Peaks - Vampire farm sim for that mix of spooky and cozy. Its not yet released but it has a demo out now so people can provide early feedback. One to keep your eye on for sure.
Fields of Mistria - indie pixel art 10/10 even in early access charming cute amazing clearly a labor of love for the genre itself with old school Harvest Moon. Do not hesitate just buy it. Trust me.
This list by far does not cover every farm game out there. I could keep going and list more or even start recommending games that branch off the farm sim genre like Potion Permit but if i did wed be here all day. If you like Stardew please give some other games in the farm sim genre a chance. This genre has been around for a long time and I want to see it thrive with new creative games.
I don’t know who needs to hear this, newer farming simulator/ agriculture/ cozy games AREN’T stardew valley knock offs, if anything they’re harvest moon knock offs but atp in the big year of 2025 we should be considering that maybe it’s a genre???
#stardew valley#coral island#fields of mistria#harvest moon#paleo pines#rune factory#potion permit#farm game#farm sim#story of seasons#moonlight peaks#roots of pacha#sun haven#video games
573 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐃𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!
a/n: I know I've written about Daryl x reader in a relationship, but I'm rewatching The Walking Dead and UGH I love him...
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ
ISTP
Hufflepuff
Chaotic Good
Taurus Sun, Scorpio Moon, Aquarius Rising
𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿
・The perfect example of your marriage is that scene from Yellowstone at the bar. Here's the link. Warnings: Violence :)
・Yes, so you and Daryl have a very close relationship - it has taken you a long time to get to this point.
・But marriage meant you two would be staying together for life. And Daryl knew that. No one was taking you away from him.
・You two met at the very beginning; in the camp with Lori, Carl, Carol, Dale, Andrea, Shane, Glenn etc.
・You abhorred Merle and gave him as much as you could - cussing him out, calling out his actions etc. You were always right but Merle was Merle.
・And you grouped Daryl with his brother; although he didn't say much.
・When Merle wasn't around, you actually got the time to see Daryl differently.
・He was really growing on you.
・You had no idea that he was wrestling with certain feelings as well.
・Your relationship was ... a slowburn to say the least. But you always looked out for each other. Made sure one another had enough food and water.
・There developed a constant between the two of you. Where one went, the other wasn't far behind. Especially when the group would split up
・You always found your way back to each other
・And yet, neither of you could see how much the other cared. Even though the whole group - even the new members - could see it.
・Though he comes off as rough and gruff to most, Daryl would have a soft spot for you. You’d be the only one who gets to see his gentler, more vulnerable side.
・
𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹
・Daryl was anxious all day, you even saw his hands shake before he saw it and shoved them in his pockets.
・You were worried; he never kept anything from you. Not even when you were just best friends.
・So you went to Carol, she shrugged her shoulders and gave you that knowing look. It calmed your own nerves down, because when Daryl is anxious; you are tenfhold.
・That night you were getting ready for watch, but a knock came at the door.
・It was Michonne.
"Hey, you wanna come in? I'm gonna start my shift soon but I can make us something tea?"
"It's okay, and don't worry about your shift; I have something for you to do."
"Oh okay, sure."
・You followed Michonne past the gardens, the crops and up to the doors of Alexandria and out into the nearby forest.
"We ugh, made sure the area was clear. You don't need to worry about a thing."
・She gave you one of her knowing smiles and you knew something was up...it made you nervous.
・Once Michonne disappeared, you heard the crunching of leaves.
・Quickly you whipped out your knife and swiped as you turned, only to be met by a large hand grabbing your arm.
"Thought I taught ya better than tha'" Daryl said, letting go of your arm and giving you a smile
"You did. I knew it was you. Heavy boots were giving me a heads up."
・It was then that you noticed his appearance; washed, with a clean black button up shirt, and a fresh pair of jeans.
・You quirked an eyebrow.
"What is this Dixon?"
Hesitating, Daryl rubbed the back of his neck with his calloused hand, eyes darting briefly to the ground before meeting yours.
“Been thinkin’,” he started, shifting his weight between one leg to the other. “’Bout us… and all the shit we've gone through...”
You stepped closer to him. Closing the gap. And your heart started pumping a whole lot faster.
"-You know I ain’t good with words,” he muttered in a low voice. “Specially ain’t good at all this… romantic stuff. But you—you’re the best thing...that has ever happened to me. Hell, you're the only thing that makes sense in this goddamn world.”
・Your cheeks started to redden but you let him talk
From his pocket, Daryl pulled out something small and clenched in his hand, his fingers trembling just slightly.
You let out a soft, "oh." Thinking this day would never come.
When he opened his hand, there it was—a simple, gold ring.
“I know it ain’t much,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"It's perfect," the tears had started to fall now. You didn't even notice you had begun to cry.
Daryl sniffed, not realising he had shed a few tears as well. "...I just want you to know… you’re my family now. Always have been.”
He held the ring out to you.
"I don't know how long we have in this world. But I know I wanna spend it with you."
There was a moment of silence. One you let hang in the air, not truly believing this was happening.
"So… what d’ya say?”
・The look on his face was pure and full of love.
"God I love you Daryl Dixon."
・Slipping the ring on your finger, you realised how comfortably it fit. You gave Daryl a knowing look and he gave you a sheepish one.
"...measured your finger when you were sleepin'...also had help from Carol..."
You couldn't help but laugh.
"You know I'm getting you one, right? I want everyone to know you're taken. That Daryl Dixon is mine."
"Wouldn't expect anything else."
・Then he kissed like it was your very first and last kiss.
The kiss was unlike anything you’d ever felt—raw, deep, and so full of emotion that it left you breathless. His lips claimed yours with an intense passion.
His hands trembled slightly, and cradled your face. Holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world; well, to him you were.
Pulling apart, he rested his forget against your own and whispered:
“Ain’t never lettin’ you go.”
In that moment, the world outside could have crumbled, and it wouldn’t have mattered. All that existed was you and him.
𝑺𝑶𝑴𝑬 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬 𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑹
・Being married to Daryl Dixon meant having someone completely and utterly loyal to you.
・He calls you his family; and when he does so, you know it comes from a place of deep sincerity and respect.
・Instead of grand romantic displays, Daryl shows his love in quiet ways, like fixing something for you, preparing food, or just staying by your side during tough times.
・Daryl would be the ultimate protector, keeping you safe at all costs.
・You have your own place together. Not too far from everyone but secluded enough that you feel independent
・A common part of your nightly routine is cuddling up together on the couch and eventually falling asleep. (Daryl already having locked all the doors and has weapons around the house - just in case. He's not leaving anything to chance.)
・You've both shared everything you know about survival with one another.
・One of your ideas was to make a book about it. How to survive in this mess of a world; Daryl has fully encouraged it. He said it would come in handy for the next generations...
・Daryl thrives in the quiet moments of your marriage—sitting together by a fire, riding his motorcycle with you behind him, working on something side by side in comfortable silence.
・He also has a way of surprising you with such tenderness. E.g., brushing hair from your face or resting his forehead against yours in silent appreciation.
𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔
"Look at that stupid dumbass man, ha! Oh shit that's my dumbass-" (Daryl)
Short & bossy x Tall & follows them around
"Think they'll try us?" x "Fuck I hope so."
"Why Are You Babying Me?" (Daryl) x "'Cause I Know You Like It" (You)
𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆
Forced Proximity
Strong Feelings (Thinking It's Hate - WRONG It's Love)
Enemies to Lovers
𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈
Sex On Fire by Kings of Leon
Into My Arms by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
One More Hour by Tame Impala
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x reader#daryl dixion imagine#daryl dixon headcanons#daryl fanfiction#daryl twd#twd daryl dixon#twd daryl#witchthewriter#headcanons#the walking dead daryl dixon#the walking dead daryl#the walking dead headcanons#relationship tropes#hufflepuff#hogwarts house#relationship headcanons#relationship dynamics
201 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Secret from the Bly
The canopy sailed over the horizon line.
The mother looked out the window, snapping the sheets as she folded them. Her clear gray eyes were the same color as the morning sky and just as gloomy.
“Closer,” she muttered. She seemed surprised she had spoken, and her hands slowed, fingers lingering on the fraying edge of her own bed sheet. She wet her lips. Said again, “Closer.”
“What’s closer?” the daughter asked.
The mother didn’t jump, but the air changed as if she did. Her shoulders stiffened. Her hands went back to work. “Nothing,” she said. Then, not being able to help herself, “The forest is growing quickly.”
“Teacher says that trees don’t grow fast. Only an inch or two a year.”
“You couldn’t see the Bly when you were a baby,” the mother said. Her heart stung. She knew her daughter wasn’t calling her foolish. Lately, when the little girl spoke of her teacher, something she never had, it makes something sour in her want to lash out. “Now look how tall it stands!”
The daughter came to the window. Her clothes were ill-fitting. She looked as if she tumbled in and then out of fresh laundry only to come up wearing a whole bedspread. The dress she wore used to be the mother’s from when she was young. Her eyes traced the horizon. “That’s faster than teacher said.”
“Not even a teacher knows everything,” the mother said. Her own mother’s voice rang through hers. That made her jump. She thrust the laundry away from her and finally looked at her daughter. “Some truths are only learned while living—”
The daughter stared at her bare feet. Shoulders rounded. Lip jutting out so far the mother could see it through her hanging, flaxen hair. The mother’s heart stung different.
“The Bly is…different,” the mother said. It’s her own voice this time. Softer and more yielding. She kneeled so that the daughter could see her right away when she chose to look up. “It’s a secret I’d like you to keep.”
The daughter’s eyes darted up, meeting the mother’s. Her lip contracted a centimeter. “A secret?”
“Just between us two,” the mother agreed. Was the little girl old enough? She would give anything to bring her daughter’s chin up again. “Your teacher is right that trees grow slow. The Bly is different here. Only here.”
“Only here?”
“On our land. You see, the Bly is home to another kind of creature. Like us, but not. They are mischievous and kind and cruel. More importantly, they’re magic.”
“Fairies,” the daughter said confidently.
“The Good Folk,” the mother said in her own mother’s voice. Then to soften it, “And that’s not the secret.”
The daughter reached out to put her hands on her mother’s shoulders. She jumped in excitement, using her mother to steady herself. “Tell me! Please, tell me.”
The mother smiled and placed her hands over her daughters. She tilted her head forward and was rewarded when her daughter stopped leaping about and pressed her own forehead against hers. She whispered, “The secret is that once, a long time ago, I stole something from them. That’s why the forest grows so quickly over the horizon. They’re looking for what I took.”
“What?!” The daughter was amazed. “You said never to steal.”
“I did. I needed it very badly, mustn’t I have?”
“Yes,” the daughter said. Her quick mind tumbled through her mother’s confession. “So you’ve been in the Bly? What was it like? Teacher says there are wolves in there. What did you steal?”
For a moment, the mother was not there. She raced through dense old growth with her feet cut to ribbons and her skirts sticking wetly to her legs. Her breath came in cold clouds in front of her and she ran through them just as quickly as they formed. She could use only one hand to shield her face from vines and branches. Her other arm was curled around the bundle in her arms.
“One day,” the mother said. She stood but wrapped her hands around her daughter’s so that she knew it was only a necessary retreat and not a complete one. “One day, when you’re older, I’ll tell you all the stories I have.”
The girl’s lower lip was out again. “How old?”
“When the Bly hits the edge of our land,” the mother said. She held out her pinky. “Promise.”
The girl was suspicious. “It grows fast?”
The mother’s heart stung differently again. “Very fast.”
“Deal!”
---
Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read more short works like this, longer stories, or longer works from me, please consider checking me out on Patreon!
(Patreon)
164 notes
·
View notes
Text
♡‧₊˚ Babydaddy!Chris x Sweetheart!Reader - Indecisive
Your grip firm on the handle of your babydaddy’s passenger door, you take a deep breath before pulling it open, the thick scent of black ice mixed with a hint of weed wafts over you, nearly making you lightheaded. Your face crunching in disgust, “have you been smoking?” you ask him before dipping down into the passenger. Chris sits reclined back in his seat, one hand on the steering wheel, and his elbow propped up on the center console, “what – no!” he spits out defensively.
You knew he was lying; he was quick the lie. You decided to bite your tongue for the sake of what you were about to tell him. The next topic of conversation would ruin his night, much like the topic of him texting another girl behind your back that played like a broken record in your head, ruining every night and day for you since you found out. You crack the car window a bit, “I don't care,” muttering before turning to Chris with slumped shoulders, “just make sure you don’t do it around Bear when he gets here.”
A gummy smile makes its way across his face, “you took my name suggestion,” he coos, reaching a hand out to smooth over your belly, your son making sure to kick as soon as he feels Chris’ hand. As much as you missed the comfortability of being around Chris, you weren’t ready to go back home with him, seeing him every day would just cause you more heartache. Seeing his car parked outside of your best friend's house everyday like clockwork already hurt enough. Your pregnancy hormones were raging, and you were more emotional than you had ever been.
You blink away tears, giving him a toothless smile, “I really like it. It’s fitting,” you tell me, looking down at his hand still placed on your belly. It was bittersweet, Bear wasn’t even here, and he made it known he missed Chris almost more than you did. Chris lets out a chuckle, feeling the light kicks against his hand, “yeah?” he questions, looking up at you, those icy blue eyes burning deep holes into your figure, “can’t wait ‘til you're back home.” Your smile fades at his words, telling all that was needed to be told. Chris’ face crunches in confusion which ultimately makes you continue, “that’s uhrm — that’s kinda why I wanted to talk to you,” you chime in, looking away from his intense gaze. His eyes alone would make you crack under pressure any second, giving into whatever his wishes were, which is why you stayed as far away as you could. Chris was a dangerous type of man.
He clears his throat, “what is it?” looking back down at your baby bump like he’s reluctant to pull away. He missed the little butterfly kicks from his son almost as much as he missed seeing you waddle around the house with a jar of jiffy peanut butter in one hand and a spoon in the other. He sported bloodshot eyes, you couldn't tell if it was due to lack of sleep or if he was smoking too much weed, the dark bags underneath of them didn’t do him any justice either. Pressing your lips together, you didn’t want to tell him, but you knew it had to be done, “I think I might stay here for a little while longer — I’m not sure how much longer,” your voice comes out small and brittle, like it could break at any moment.
“Sweetheart,” he starts, emotion lies thick in his voice, “wha – what do you mean?” his Boston accent peeking thru subtly. Tears fill his eyes to the brim, and you watch as he blinks them back, scrunching his face before letting a stray tear stain his cheek. He quickly wipes it, looking out the front windshield like he's trying his hardest to find his next words. Staying strong was so hard when Chris was on the verge of an emotional breakdown in front of your very eyes. You had a soft spot for him, and you feared it wasn't going away anytime soon. It took all of you to not crawl into his lap, run your fingers thru his brown locks, and pepper his face with kisses while he cried into your chest. He was a ray of sunshine; seeing him sad was heartbreaking. You couldn’t help but wonder if he really felt as bad as you did or was it all an act to get you to come back home to him. Either way, his emotional state left you feeling gutted – just like the revelation of him cheating made you feel.
Chris sniffles, making you pick your head up to look at him, “you don’t want to be with me anymore?” The question that had been running loops thru your mind the last three weeks. Did you want to be with Chris? Of course you did. That wasn’t up for debate. The real question was - could you go back to normal with Chris, raising a newborn without dwelling on the fact that he cheated on you? You couldn’t say for sure.
“I didn’t say that,” you croak out, tangling a hand in your hair. You let out a breathy sigh as your hand drops to your bump, “I just need more time, m’sorry, Chris.” Bear was going backflips at the sound of his dad's voice, or maybe it was your emotions doing the work. A light scoff, filled with hurt leaves his lips, “I’ve been giving you time. It’s been weeks,” he says, tugging another hand thru his hair as he looks at you, biting on his bottom lip to keep it from quivering.
His sad puppy dog eyes are too heart wrenching for you to handle, so you look away. “I know that, but you’ve been parked out here every day,” you tell him, letting out another sigh. He’d never understand the turmoil and pain he caused you. He’d never understand that you’d never forget what he did. You were at your most vulnerable state, your body was going thru so many changes, you were constantly nauseous or vomiting, and you were keeping your pregnancy from the world. Regardless if Chris only had one conversation with another like he claimed, it hurt, and you didn’t deserve it.
“M’sorry — I miss you, I don’t know,” he blurts out, turning his body towards you to show you have this full attention, “Bears gonna be here soon and I don’t want anything happening while we’re apart.” You don’t dare to look at him until he places a hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. His touch sends tingles up your spine, as touch starved as you were. You missed his touch more than anything, “I just want to go back to normal; to us. you’re pregnant and —.” His hoarse voice getting cut off by yours, “exactly, Chris — I’m pregnant.”
Tears sting your eyes, a few escaping as you attempt to fan them away. Chris hangs his head low, and you can see his tears make water marks on the center console, “I fucked up, I know,” he manages, the words getting stuck his throat a bit, “I can make it better – I promise I will.”
You were at a crossroads. You didn’t know if you could believe him, you couldn’t trust him after all. You couldn’t trust the person you created a life with; it was crazy to think. The thought makes you lose control of your emotions. The waterworks start and light sobs leave your lips as Chris pulls you into a tight embrace, rubbing his hand up and down your back in a soothing manner. His own tears soaking a wet patch into your hair, you can feel his chest rise up and down as he breathes staggered breaths. It was comforting in a way; the person who caused all your pain cared enough to console you, he cared enough to cry with you.
“Jus’ please come home,” Chris hiccups, making sure to keep his grip tight on you, “I’ll sleep on the couch. I can fix it, okay? Jus’ let me fix this,” he rambles on as he smooths your hair down with the palm of his hand, repeatedly pressing light kisses to your temple as your sobs fade out.
You pull away from Chris, tugging your sleeves over your hands and bring them up to your face to collect the leftover tears, “I don’t want — want Bear to grow up in a split up home.” The thought of having to coparent instead of having your son grow up with two active parents who love each other, and him, chokes you up. You and Chris both had two married parents who raised you, it wasn't fair that you son might not get that before he was even born. You fail to keep your composure, sob erupting from your chest, “but I don’t see us working if you can’t change your act.”
Wc - 1499
♡‧₊˚ Cheys Note - Big thanks to everyone who helped me reach 600 followers!! I love every single one of you so, so, sooo much!🥲🥰 I changed my handle, no longer m00nl1ghts1vt - I am now sturnmeovr! You guys are eating these angsts up and I'm not mad at you😋🫣 I made this one a bit longer, sorry about the delay! Send me asks or suggestions about Babydaddy!Chris & Sweetheart! <3
Masterlist
Babydaddy!Chris Masterlist
Taglist (comment to be added)
#♡‧₊˚cheyennes works#♡‧₊˚ sturnmeovr#♡‧₊˚ babydaddy!chris x sweetheart!reader#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris x reader#character au#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo au#matt sturniolo x reader#matt x reader#matthew sturniolo#the sturniolo triplets#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#christopher sturniolo angst#christopher sturniolo au#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine
153 notes
·
View notes
Text
More stoner!suguru cause I said so <3
intro to stoner!suguru
tw: mentions of smoking and weed (duh), lowkey exhibitionist stuff, mentions of fem oriented biology, pronouns, and terms of endearments, usage of the term 'slut' teasingly and affectionately:p
whenever you and suguru are on your balcony your neighbors don't dare to come out to feel the night breeze. Even when those separators between each segment makes it hard to see what's going on in the neighboring apartment's balcony, it's always clear what's happening when your neighbors hear their usually inconspicuous neighbor letting out little moans and whimpers.
What's thankfully not clear to their vision, is your practically naked-except for this thin spaghetti strap tank top bunched up over your tits- body reclining on the chair you keep in your balcony, trying to lie as flat on it as the hard material allows. one leg up on one of the arm rests, absolutely high off your mind on a particularly hot ass summer night. and also maybe a little tipsy too. wine and weed, if no one discovered its wonders you might have to be the proponent.
as you space out with the blunt in between your lips, the ash teetering to fall and burn you and your boyfriend—geto suguru. who's currently high off his mind licking you up and eating you out as if he would be shot dead otherwise. if someone told him the burning blunt is more of a threat he'd laugh as if they told the biggest joke. you see, this man would let his partner burn him alive on a stake, so a small blunt is nothing to him.
except that small blunt is more than enough to make him realize, actualize even, what's really important right now. it's that he needs to eat your cunt out, lick up whatever you offer him in the form of liquid arousal or cum, finger you so well it burns. and then if, and only if you allow, to dick you down.
before the ash gathered on the blunt falls on either one of you, you take it out of your mouth with one a last drag, and while you shake off the ash on the tray on the little table right beside the chair, your other hand slowly drags its fingers from suguru's cheeks-hollowed out, sucking you all in- to tangle itself with his gorgeous hair. again, all loose, a signature high suguru trait as it has become. your boyfriend keeps losing all his hair ties the day after he gets high with you ( most of the time he throws it off the balcony, other times if you guys are indoors he throws it across the room somewhere, once he flushed it down the toilet).
you pull his hair and yank him off your cunt, as painful as it is for you to part him from your twitching cunt, it's way more agonizing for him. he makes no effort to hide that fact, before his frown starts to morph into whines and complaints, you put the blunt between his lips and after he takes a long drag, you don't give him the time to exhale the smoke. you take the blunt off his lips, push his face back in, stuffed between your thighs. this time taking off the one leg off the arm rest and other off the ground to practically choke him with your thighs. and he'd rather not die any other way.
suguru gets a hold of your thighs and with much internal reluctance, parts them slightly to place his face a little less than 10 cm away from your pussy and blows out the smoke trapped in his lungs. as the cloud of smoke surrounds your pelvic region and flows up to melt into the air, suguru's glowing purple eyes stare back at you from the fog of smoke, threatening like a siren finalizing his target from a far on a rock in a cloud of mist. he dives back into it hungrier, and probably more high off his mind.
“Demanding as ever sweetheart.”
his tongue feels more heavy but sloppier on your clit with his licking, which does also come with the price of some hardy slaps on your thighs and ass, as a warning really.
“Ah ah, my slutty little angel is patient, right?” he says, holding your thighs in place to keep them from curling up around his neck again.
but then he catches you off guard with straight two fingers shoving in your hole hooking up to find that familiar sweet spot like muscle memory, as he starts to suck on your clit and finger you at a matched rhythm. the blunt in between your fingers falls out of your hand on the ground forgotten and now extinguished, as you let out a strained stuttering moan while you came all over suguru's face, with your cum dripping down his chin and him making efforts to lap up every single drop of it.
after a few minutes of catching your breath and coming to your senses (well somewhat, you're still high af) you look down at your bf, who's basically licked you clean and dry, who is perching his face on your thighs and looking back at you with his sultry eyes and messed up hair—somehow in a hoarse voice he mutters;
"Light it back up pretty."
note: thank you sm for reading ^^ this is my more put together post cause it's dedicated to the beloved Damien, aka @cuntphoric <3 sorry but he was the first stoner suguru propaganda supporter ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶
ALSO thank you sm @madamechrissy <3 my beloved<3 beta read and helped me edit
creds for dividers: @omi-resources
thank you to you both <3 cause I genuinely enjoy your writings sm and look forward to them wholeheartedly it was the kindest and sweetest thing that has happened to me in a fandom really.
also my finals start today and it's my bday 👎 sucks to suck ig :( wish me luck pookies
#jjk#might crie I love the internet#jujutsu kaisen#getou suguru#geto suguru#jjk gojo#suguru#suguru geto#suguru smut#suguru getou#geto#jjk suguru#jjk geto#jujustu kaisen suguru#getou suguru x reader#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto smut#geto scenarios#geto suguru x y/n#geto suguru x you#suguru geto x you#suguru geto x y/n#getou suguru x y/n#stoner suguru#stoner!reader#stoner!suguru#—^^#—suguboo<3
155 notes
·
View notes