#staring at his model page for hours like a freak | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rainydayarcaneimagines · 3 years ago

Text

Flustered (Viktor x Reader)

Summary: You and Viktor seem to constantly be at each other's throats. Until you ask for the reason he hates you...

Warnings: SMUT. SHIELD YOUR EYES FOR THE TERRIBLE SMUT WRITINGS

You set down the coffee tray with a sigh. "Has he taken a break in the last five hours?" You asked Jayce. "We both know the answer is no, why are we pretending it'll be different?" Jayce asked making you sigh. "Viktor. I brought tea." "I'm fine." He replied. You rolled your eyes. "It's been almost six hours, take a break." "I am fine, leave me be please." "Viktor, just take a break man. You can go back at it once you finished your tea." Jayce suggested. The sounds of tinkering stopped and Viktor got up.

"Oh, of course, he listens to you." You muttered. Jayce shrugged and you sat at your desk. You were the assistant to both Jayce and Viktor. Your relationship to Jayce was a lot better than that of Viktor's. Since day one, Viktor seemed to not like you. You were simply there or in his way. You seemed to be that one thing in his way, that one thing that bothered him and you didn't know why. You assumed it had to do with the fact you told him you had an eidetic memory seeing as that's when the issues seemed to arise.

You worked silently, Viktor noticing your papers. "Are you doing homework?" Viktor asked. "Yes, now go away." You muttered, looking at the textbook. "I'm shocked you honestly do your work. " He muttered under his breath. You looked up and rolled your eyes before returning to your work.

Two more hours passed, Viktor and you being left alone. This was standard procedure for the group. You put a cup on Viktor's desk. "You're still studying." He realized. "Yes." You said flipping the page. He saw the worksheets underneath it. "Is the genius having problems?" He asked. "Yes. Now go away." You huffed. "Ah, and you were so lovely." Viktor said sarcastically. "Yes and you've been sunshine and freaking rainbows." You scoffed. "What was that?" He asked. "You've been a dick since I've met you, is that more clear?" You asked. Viktor was silently thankful Jayce was not there to see the childish bickering between the two of you.

Viktor turned around as if going to ignore you when you stood up. "Did I do something to piss you off? Because it's like day one you just fucking hated my existence and I don't know what I did! Is it my memory? Is it something I do, what is it!?" You asked. "Why do you care!?" "Because Viktor, you might not realize it but I look up to you!" You snapped. Viktor turned around staring at you. "... what?" He asked. "I watched you for the longest time Viktor. You worked so hard and you built your way to success and honestly it impressed me. I look up to you because you're inspiring to people who used to be stuck as the scientist's assistant. Had I known what an ass you were I might've chosen a different role model!" You sighed. You scoffed after a bit of silence. "You won't even look me in the eyes."

Viktor sighed. "I... act the way I do around you because I feel like I am someone who should not be looked up to. Heimerdinger did tell me that I inspired you and while most people are flattered, it scares me. Y/n, I am not perfect. I am a scientist born from disaster." He said. Your gaze softened. "I figured if I put up a front I'd spare you disappointment, I can't look you in the eyes because I know I will cause disappointment no matter what I do. Jayce gets the glory. He always does. I end up with the failures." He said. "I... didn't realize I put that pressure on you." You said. "I can't talk to you without sounding angry. I... it's not intentional I think I'm angry with myself for being so hard on you." He admitted. You stayed silent as Viktor shared his feelings. "When I see you I see me. I see someone who is willing to give up a future as a scientist just to help someone else succeed and it... it breaks me. You are so intelligent Y/n, you deserve more than a life of an assistant. You could change the world if you wanted to." He said. "Viktor, I wanted to be your assistant so you'd teach me to change the world." "Lesson one for starters is that you don't need help doing that, your mind can do that on it's own" he said. You chuckled slightly.

"Lesson two... never underestimate your abilities because you are someone who is very skilled." He said. "Is there a third one Teach?"you asked. Viktor smiled slightly. "Know that I am always going to be honest with you but I do it out of place of admiration." He said. You chuckled. "Almost sounds like..." you shook your head. "Nevermind." "What were you going to say?" He asked. "Nothing, it's just uh... It almost sounded like you were flirting for a second." You said. Viktor gave you a smirk but said nothing else as he left.

Over the course of three days, you were a nervous wreck around Viktor. You were constantly jumping anytime he spoke to you, anytime he was near you, you'd drop things. Jayce noticed it but said nothing, keeping to himself. It was another late night that ended up changing everything.

You worked silently, writing something down. "Y/n, are you leaving soon?" Viktor asked. "Did you want me to?" You asked. "No, simple question is all." He shrugged. You swallowed hard and he rose a brow. "Is something wrong?" He asked. "Uh what? No, nothing is wrong." You said. Viktor noticed your face turning red and he walked over after you went back to your work. You felt his hand on your forehead and you jumped back. "You're warm, Y/n are you alright?" He asked. Your heart pounded in your ears. "I'm fine." You said. "You're flushed, you're warm, are you sure you're not sick?" He asked. "I-I'm fine Viktor trust me." "Are you sure it's not a fever?" "it's not a fever Viktor, it's you!" You finally said.

Viktor blinked a few times. "Did I get you sick?" "Oh my god no! You! You in general, it's like three days ago you flipped some switch in my brain and I can't breathe around you! I keep dropping my things, I keep stuttering, I-I can't think!" "How is this my fault?" "BECAUSE YOU FLIRTED WITH ME!" You yelled. Viktor had a smirk crack onto his face. "You probably think I'm insane." You sighed into your hands as Viktor pulled a chair to him, sitting in front of you. "Well, insane might be a word." He said making you groan.

"Adorably idiotic is the other choice." He teased. You sighed. "Stop that." You halted. "Stop what?" "The flirting. Unless you're going to do something about it, I'm not mentally sound enough to handle shit like that." You said. He rose a brow. "Y/n, I never said I was never going to act on it." He said. You looked at him. "Y/n. I want to act on many thoughts when I see you. I have self control" he said. You looked at him surprised. "So you... do-" "Y/n, what more do you need? A parade float that says in giant bold letters that I'm attracted to you?" He asked. You stared at him in awe. "Seriously. For someone so smart, your logical thinking goes out the window once I flirt with you." Viktor teased. Your mind was now racing.

One thought was clear. "Y/n? Are you alright-" you kissed him, him cradling your face the instant he registered what was going on. You pulled away, looking into his golden eyes. Your face was red, a lot redder than before. "Y/n... I want you to know that I do... I love you." He said softly. Your lips parted. "I want... I want you to be with me, I just... I want to be near you all the time, even when I'm here in the lab and you're with Jayce I still want you. I-I want to see you- hear you, I want... I want so badly to feel you but I don't want to overstep or ruin anything." He said. You looked in his eyes.

"I love you too." You finally admitted. He looked at you, slightly bewildered to your words. He looked at you. "I want to be near you to Viktor. I want to see you, God knows I love to hear you, I'm not sure what feel quite means but I love being around you. And I..." you shook your head with a slight laugh. "As much of a teenage girl I sound, I could never imagine you telling me any of this." You said. He looked at you as he took your hands into his, rolling his chair forward so he was closer to you. You could feel his breath, your eyes wavering to his lips. "Can I show you what I mean when I tell you that I want to feel you?" He asked. "Yes"

His hands slid from yours, sliding to your face as he cradled you. His lips connected with yours, your eyes closing on instinct. It felt borderline electric as you slowly rose, him moving with you before you were backed against the wall. His lips moved to your neck, his hands tracing over your wrists and lifting both them over your head. Your head tilted back, your breathing becoming heavier before you left out a sweet sound that sounded like honey to his ears.

You moaned

He pulled back ever so slightly, your eyes opening slowly to look at him. It was like no words were needed to communicate, you two understood exactly what you wanted, which was each other. He kissed you again, cradling you close and moved the both of you to a desk before he assisted you in removing your shirt, a simplistic red bra hidden underneath your tank top. He chuckled ever so slightly. He kissed your collar bone, carefully sucking to leave marks, your breathing hitching every few seconds before he unclasped your bra.

He removed it, his fingers lightly grazing your skin as if he was touching something fragile. He kissed you, you unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled it off for you, before his kisses trailed down to your breasts once more. He took a nipple into his mouth your eyes closing and again, that sweet sound reached his ears. It was light and airy, almost sounding like music. Your hands ran through his hair, a light grunt from him as you did. He moved back to you, kissing your lips and his hand trailing back. He unbuttoned your pants, pulling away to give a questioning look. Your eyes were fueled with desire as you seemed to nod and pulled your waistband down and kicked off your pants. His fingers traced the waistband of your panties, his eyes watching yours before he slid his hand into them, rubbing light circles on your clit. He watched your expressions carefully as you let out moans, almost as if he was taking into account what you enjoyed him doing. He moved back, moving off of the desk and really examining you. Your panties were also red. He eyed them, looking at you slightly perplexed considering he was aware of your opinion to match things like that. "Is something wrong?" You asked. "No! No... it's just your... your underwear... they're red." He admitted. You chuckled. "I know, I put them on." You said, amused. "You don't like to match things." He also said, recalling a ridiculous conversation he had with you once over socks. Your smile grew. "I knew that red was your favorite color." You admitted. He eyed you, slightly surprised by your answer. ".... so you're saying" "I wore them for you." You said, point blank.

He pressed a passionate kiss to your lips, him unbuttoning his pants. You assisted in shoving them from his waist, it plopping onto the floor. He pulled off his boxers before you felt a small tinge of pain soon replaced with pleasure. He lowered himself, you hugging him and wrapping your legs around him so insertion would be easier. He thrusted, hearing light moans from you. Your voice was practically in his ear as he thrusted harder, you reaching for his hair. Then he heard it. "Oh-oh God Viktor" you breathed, your face now sweating from the intense body heat both of you were producing. Your breaths were like a beautiful echo in the back of his mind.

Viktor kept his pace as he pulled back his torso enough to kiss you. He continued, his left hand intertwined with yours as your right seemed to be gripping the edge of the desk. Pleasure flooded you, his kisses making each second better. You felt your walls hug him, Viktor releasing a moan before he and you came.

You panted looking at him. "I hope Jayce never finds out we... had sex in the lab." You said making Viktor chuckle as he began to get dressed. "You and me both, we just had sex on his desk." He said making you realize you two had moved. "Oh fuck- he's going to kill me if he ever finds out!" You said, Viktor handing you your shirt. "Well if we set everything back on it it'll be fine." Viktor shrugged. You looked at Viktor.

"...Viktor... what's the proper protocol for something like this?" You asked. Viktor looked at you, moving strands of hair out of your eyes. "We can pretend it never happened... or we can try our hand at a relationship. It's up to you." He said softly. You pulled him down to your level, kissing him softly. He smiled slightly as he pulled away. "I like the sound of the second option." You said. He smiled as you put your shirt back on. "What?" You asked. "I love you." He said. You smiled back at him. "I love you too"

Viktor and you picked everything up and tried to make it look somewhat decent outside of its usual chaos. Viktor waited patiently as you seemed to try to perfect the location of Jayce's pen cup "Y/n, I'd love to leave the lab in this century." He teased. You huffed, walking back to Viktor. "Where am I going anyway? Home? Your place? How do I go about this?" You asked. "I was thinking you'd come with me so we could just go to work in the morning together." He shrugged. "I get to see morning Viktor, this'll be fun!" You said. Viktor chuckled as you followed him.

The next morning you and Viktor walked into the lab, Jayce looking around. "Is everything okay?" You asked. "I can't find my notebook, it was on the desk last night." He said. You shot a look to Viktor. "Oh, here it is. It must've fallen." He realized as he kneeled to grab it. He rose brow. "...When did that scratch get there?" He asked, noticing a scuff on his desk. You gulped and Viktor moved past you. "Must've been from that one time we had a piece of metal go flying across the room." Viktor recalled. "Oh yeah! That makes sense." Jayce nodded. You sat at your desk, looking at Viktor who smiled at you.

You took off your jacket, putting it on the back of your chair when Jayce rose a brow. "Did a piranha attack you or something?" Jayce asked. "What do you mean?" You asked. "Your back is like... covered in hickeys dude." Jayce said, before he squinted. "And like... three bite marks." Your face flushed red and Viktor smirked to himself. "Uh..." "I mean, get it I guess but like... dang that's a lot." Jayce said. You sunk down into your chair.

"The one day I wear a tank top so I could help with wiring and this is what happens." You muttered making Viktor smile wider. "So... who is it? Is it that one girl in your class?" Jayce asked. "Uhhhhh well no." You said. "Oh! Is it the guy from the coffee shop?" "No." "Huh. Well that's the only two I'm aware of. Unless you hooked up with Viktor, which I feel like that's impossible." Jayce chuckled. You got up. "I'm getting coffee." You said. Viktor looked at your face which was red with embarrassment. "I really think it's the girl in her class. It's the most logical, they see each other everyday." Jayce said.

"Uh..." "Wait.... wait wait wait" Jayce looked at Viktor and then you. "Jayce, I think you've finally lost it." You laughed nervously. Jayce got closer sniffing you and gasped. "What now?!" You asked. "That is his cologne!" He said. "Why do you know what his cologne smells like?" You asked. Viktor turned around and Jayce pointed to his belt. "YES, THAT IS YOUR BELT!" Jayce said. "If that's Viktor's belt, and you smell like Viktor AND you two came into work together... then that means...." Jayce was piecing things together.

Viktor tinkered with a piece in silence. You came back in and that's when Jayce noticed it. "Wait a minute." He said. You looked over. "...Is that Viktor's belt?" He asked. Viktor froze. You two were both the same waist size. Did you get the belts mixed up this morning? Viktor looked down. Shit.

"Viktor please handle him." You said. "Me and Y/n are together, we got our belts mixed up this morning, in my defense I'm small." Viktor finally said. "AHA! SO YOU DID FUCK!" Jayce said. "Yes we did." Viktor said, handing you your jacket. He nodded for you to go out the door and you walked. "Ha. Knew it." "On your desk." Viktor added as the two of you left.

Jayce's smile faded. "Wait wha- YOU DID WHAT!?"

#viktor x reader #viktor #viktor arcane

204 notes · View notes

realityparty · 2 years ago

Text

EDDIEMUNSONWEEK: Day five (August 19): New Beginnings/College AU

SUMMARY: Eddie didn’t think anything of volunteering to be a nude model for a college art class. PAIRING: Eddie x OFC

Word Count: 9k Warnings: Smut (Oral Sex), Nude modeling? Additonal Comments: So this was like 10 pages longer, but I didn’t want to miss the deadline. If anyone likes this and wants a part ii and I probably will write it if ppl like it enough! So since I was in a rush, there are probably many spelling errors. Please forgive me! Enjoy! Writing Links: Stranger Things Masterlist

Eddie didn’t want to admit it to anyone and especially to his Uncle Wayne, but moving and living in the city wasn’t exactly peachy.

There was freedom to not being called a freak or a Satanist. There was barely any judgment for his long hair, the clothes he wore, and the music he blared through his Walkman. He felt invisible. It was a weird feeling considering Hawkins it felt as if his every move was watched and dissected.

It wasn't a hasty decision to move to the city. Just after finally graduating high school. There was nothing really left for him and he couldn't imagine selling pot to kids when he was finally out of high school. Also, why would he stay in a town that hated him and cursed him when they stubbed their toe.

He didn't want to leave his Uncle Wayne. However, Wayne had always been understanding. Maybe to understanding to a fault. So Eddie left Hawkins and didn't plan on coming back.

He found an apartment above a tattoo shop and a job as a sandwich artist where the pay was shit and left them with barely any change to pay to rent a movie. So the one night he splurged on a night out at the bar, the flyer with the paper tab to rip off wasn't something he seriously considered.

It amused him a bit. Yet, it was a paid gig and an easy $25 an hour he was needed. A lucrative supplement that would work around his schedule. It would also be an extra bit of change for him to buy the new guitar string he needed and part he needed for his shitty van.

So on a cool Monday morning, he stood in a stark white classroom. There were 12 easels surrounding a small stool where he would be sitting. As he feels the draft in the room, maybe this wasn't the best idea.

Eddie was up for trying anything at least once. Yet, maybe he was out of his element here, deciding to be a nude model for the semester for an art class at the university.

The professor, Benson, was warm and welcoming. The man gushed about his curly hair and how he thought this would be a good chance for his students to draw hair with texture. He had assured him everything would be anonymous and would be paid weekly.

Eddie had nodded as he admired some works of art that seemed to be in progress. His eyes caught what seemed to be an oil painting rendition of the poisoned apple from Sleeping Beauty.

Students filed into the room with low hushed voices. A part of him was waiting for the pointed stares and harsh whispers. Instead, if anyone caught his eyes, they gave him a soft smile before finding their seat. Most seem to be around his age. There are a couple of older students that seem to be in their 40s. Yet, most students are busily prepping their station. He knows he is the one staring until he reaches the end of the semicircle. Eddie's eyes land on a beautiful girl. Hair was up in two space buns. She had black glasses framing large brown eyes. Lips were plump and highlighted by a glossy sheen. Recognition tickled his gut as his eyes met hers. He imagined if her skin was as white as his, they would have turned pink. Instead, her eyes widen a bit before a closed-lipped smile is thrown his way. She broke eye contact as she fiddled with her area.

Once the room was filled, that's when Eddie felt nervous. He was in a room full of strangers and was about to be nude as the day he was born for the sake of art. He was feeling self-conscious about his kitchen scratch tattoos and soft tummy.

On Benson's cue, he disrobed. Eddie thought he would prefer the taunts and whispers to the clinical silence. The cool air made his nipples taunt and for a moment he was concerned, what if he popped a boner?

Although the ridiculous warm up poses Benson had him do he thought he deserved to be paid more than $25 an hour. Someone just got a glimpse of his asshole. Too late for manscaping.

Benson had him stand still. Eddie didn't know how he was going to stand still for over an hour, especially when there wasn't any music playing. He was told to keep a neutral expression, which wasn't too hard. He had to resist the urge to tap his fingers along his side.

His eyes focused on the wall behind the flock of students. He didn't want to make awkward eye contact with anyone. Yet, after five minutes, he has already grown bored. It's then onto reciting the whole Metallica's Master of Puppets album. That only killed about 20 minutes, thankfully. He sighed in relief when Benson called for a 10 minute break. Benson was immediately at his side with his robe. He gave him a grateful smile as he covered up for modesty's sake.

Most of the students went to the bathroom and to the water fountain. Eddie wasn't sure what the protocol was, but he felt it was evasive to look at incomplete drawings even if they were of him. Instead, he leaned against the wall and thought maybe he would smoke a joint before this. Then he shook his head as he eyed the space buns girl concentrating hard on her drawing. Her tongue peaking out between her full lips. Benson doing a walk around had lingered on her and he could tell by the smile it was good. The last thing he needed was a boner as he tried to rake his brain on how he knew her.

That was what he focused on for the rest of the class. Maybe she just was a frequent customer at the sandwich shop. He didn't think she could be from Hawkins. He would have remembered a face like hers unless she was an upperclassman. Yet, he became distracted by the itch to scratch his nose and as he focused on that irritation class was called to a close.

Eddie walked behind the small partition as he pulled on his clothes. He slid on his clothes and welcomed the weight of the rings on his fingers.

Everyone else was cleaning up, but he noticed Space Buns was still sketching on her paper.

"Wasn't so bad was it?" Benson asked.

Eddie shook his head. "Different for sure."

Bensen smiled and a pensive smile came over his face as he eyed Eddie. "Do you mind wearing those rings for the next session?"

Eddie looked down at his mood ring, silver pig, skulls with a cross, and his vampire skull. He shrugged. "No problem."

The next class went the same as the first. He did an awkward warm-up sketch before being directed by Benson on the "look" he wanted.

However, he fingered out why Benson required him to wear his rings as the easels were placed a bit differently. Some were further away from him while a few were about 6 feet away, thankfully nowhere near his exposed, flaccid dick.

However, he had no other exception than to stare at Space Buns as her easel was directly in his line of sight. She had the pleasure, in his lovely opinion, of drawing the profile of his face and his hands where his rings were the most prominent.

Her brown eyes connected with his, and she gave him a shy smile. He watched her face morph into total concentration as she studied him. It was only fair he did the same to her.

She had her hair styled with those same Space Buns. She was wearing blue jeans tucked into a pair of pink vans with a Joan Jett shirt. There was a cluster of barely there freckles across the bridge of her nose. She stuck her tongue out when she was really concentrating. He admired her pouty lips and how her lip gloss accentuated her cupid’s bow. He wondered how plump they would get if he nibbled on them. The feel of them slotted against his. Eddie quickly corrected that thought, as the last thing he needed was his excitement scaring the class.

He would have inspected her further if the easel wasn’t in his way.

The time seemed to move a bit faster compared to the first session. His bones felt relief when Benson called for a break. Space Buns snickered at his cracked bones. He found his opening. He quickly tied his robe around himself. As he padded towards her, he ignored the chill of the ceramic tiles against his feet.

"Mind if I see?" He asked.

His answer was a nod of her head, and he walked around to find a sketch of himself. The attention to his rings was incredible to him. Although a work in progress, he felt as if he was looking in the mirror.

"Damn," Eddie said with a whistle.

"What?"

Eddie smiled, and he did an exaggerated bicep pose. "You make me look…pretty. Mysterious. Sexy," he added as his tongue crowded his teeth.

She giggled. It reminded him of wind chimes.

“So, this is your major?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m in my junior year.“

“Cool,” Eddie replied.

“Are you a student?”

Eddie snorted. “Nah, just a plain old citizen needing extra cash.”

The other students filtered back into the class and Eddie thought it was time to head back to his stool. He had butterflies in his stomach and he still didn’t know the girl's name.

Eddie wasn’t totally friendless in the city. He was cool with his co-workers. It was a mixture of ages and personalities. He was never bored, that’s for sure, it was just the work wasn’t very fulfilling. Out of all his co-workers, he hung out with Andy Barber the most. The man was a couple of years older than him, but he felt Andy stilled believed he was in high school. He didn’t think the man hung out with anyone his age.

He found himself trailing behind Andy, who was invited to some college party. Eddie didn’t really want to go, but he didn’t have much of an excuse not to go. He just knew Andy was going to ditch him for some girl. Eddie only came for the free booze and potential weed. The party wasn’t awful; he supposed. There were sweaty bodies gyrating against each other, copious amounts of alcohol, and the haze of smoke everywhere.

Eddie found himself a beer, as he was not going to drink from an open cup, and took a healthy swing. He rarely went to parties in Hawkins unless he was selling. His type of party was just going to Reefer Rick’s and smoking. Sometimes movies, music, or video games were on, but it was just smoking and laughing. Talking about things and confusing their brains.

A few girls caught his eye, which was new for him. He gave them a charming smile back before a body slammed into his chest.

“Ahh!”

Eddie looked down at the body that bounced off him and landed on the floor. Red juice stained her grey David Bowie shirt.

“Space Buns?” He questioned. Her hair wasn’t up. It was down and exposed tight curls that framed her face like a halo.

“I…,” her mouth opened, then she closed it. Her fingers pushed her glasses up her nose. She took a deep breath before he helped her off the ground. She didn’t seem drunk. “I don’t know your name.”

“Eddie,” he told her. “You okay?”

She pulled at her shirt to inspect the damage. “I guess I will live,” she muttered. “What are you doing here?”

“Came with a friend,” he told her. “You?”

“Same, but this isn’t really my scene,” she admitted. “And Space Buns?”

Eddie chuckled. “Oh, because you always seemed to have your hair in buns.”

“Oh, my name’s Jensen,” she told him, the stain on her shirt forgotten.

Her name rolled around his tongue in a good way. “Nice to meet you, Jensen,” he greeted with a bow. Jensen giggled as she curtesy in response.

Eddie’s smile was large as it showed off his teeth.

“You need a drink,” he offered as they were in the kitchen. Jensen nodded as he found a beer and passed it to her. He thought they would go back to the party. Instead, Jensen hopped up onto the counter. He leaned against the counter next to her.

He didn’t know how long they talked. He learned that she had dreams of obtaining a fellowship to study art overseas. She hoped to make a living being an artist and opening up her own art studio and gallery. Her favorite color was pink. Her favorite movie was Rebel Without a Cause. She loved nachos and cheese. Her time of day was night despite the lack of natural light to draw.

He shared things as well. She never made him feel less compared to her experience, as it was apparent she came from more money than him. He didn’t have much to tell her due to living in such a small place as Hawkins. He left out the nasty bits of being bullied by most of the town. Yet he boasted with pride of his time as Dungeon Master with Hellfire club. The fact she knew what Dungeon and Dragons was had his heart soaring. She listened with her full attention and even laughed at his lame jokes.

“Jensen!” Both jumped at the loud call of her name over the music and chatter of the partygoers. She gave him a sheepish smile. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

Eddie nodded, sad to see her go.

“I’ll see you at the studio,” she called out as she disappeared into the crowd.

As the contract, he arrived early before the students showed up. Benson wanted him to be aware of what poses they expected him to try to bring. From the layout of the red velvet loveseat, Eddie had a pretty good idea.

Benson wanted a sensual pose. Eddie scratched his nose. He didn’t know if he could do sensuality. Benson’s advice was to think some pleasant thoughts. Pleasant thoughts to Eddie could accidentally pop a boner. As usual, Eddie stripped down to his birthday suit in exchange for the fluffy robe. He sat on the couch as he tried to figure out poses. So far, he was only having luck finding poses that required his legs to be spread open. He propped his knees on his elbows and placed his chin on his hands. This position seemed to bring the most comfort.

“Different pose for sensual, usually most lay across the couch,” Benson observed. “Just can’t look bored with your face. It’s going to be about the eyes for this one.”

Eddie huffed. He tried to think of something that would rouse him enough to bring a heated gaze. He thought of a good D&D campaign or him finally mastering “Master of Puppets” with his sweetheart. Then he thought of dimples on caramel skin. Curly hair tickling his nose and studious fingers tracing his body to memorize every contour. His cheeks burned, and he felt the heat spread to his neck and chest. Especially as his object of affection walked into the room.

Benson chuckled from next to him, “See, not so hard. The body and its mechanics are simply art. Don’t be embarrassed.”

Eddie sighed, but his gaze found Jensen, who gave him a little wave. She only had one bun in her hair today with two swords in them for decoration. There was a blue shimmer to her eyes and lips today as she wore a Michael Jackson Thriller-era shirt. She looked beautiful.

He gave her a small smile in return and he prayed to every god out there he didn’t pop a boner.

Eddie walked the familiar journey to the art studio. It filled his stomach with flattering bat wings at the thought of seeing Jensen again. He thought about her too much to be considered normal over the passing days. His boner may not have made an appearance during their last class, but in the confines of his apartment, it was a different story.

He almost tripped over his feet as he found Jensen already at the studio early. She looked at him with a bright smile and waved in greeting.

“Hey.”

Eddie walked into the empty classroom. No Benson in sight. “You’re here early,” he observed as he placed his things behind the partition Benson had given him.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

She looked nervous as she played with a pencil in her hand. Her teeth trapped her bottom lip before she stood straighter. It was making him slightly nervous about what she was going to ask him.

“You know you already seen my dick, so whatever you have to ask, I’m sure is pretty tame,” Eddie said, hoping to ease the tension.

Jensen huffed. “Right.” She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “I was wondering if you could be the subject to a series of work I want to do.”

“Nude?”

She shook her head. “No. It would require…um…I want to play with the identity of femininity and masculinity. So some makeup and feminine clothing are going to be part of the outfits. I…since it’s for school, I won’t be able to pay you, but um a dinner…or beer whatever you like I can give you instead.”

Eddie put his hands up and chuckled. “Whoa, its okay. Yeah, I’ll do it.”

Her eyes were wide and hopeful. He wasn’t prepared for the hug she rewarded him with. Oranges and vanilla filled his nostrils.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

Jensen had given him a very thorough paper on the meaning of what she was hoping to showcase with her end of the year exhibit. She also planned to use this work as a submission to the fellowship she wanted.

She also left details to her apartment as they scheduled the session on a Saturday afternoon. She mentioned that he wouldn’t have to pose as he did for class. As she wanted options, it was going to be just a long photoshoot. She was going to pick her favorite photographs to paint. He may only be needed for a few references for getting skin tone or potentially mimicking a pose for a reference.

Eddie eyed the repurposed warehouse building she resided in. He chewed on his fingernail before he pressed the buzzer to enter her building. Her voice came over the speaker, letting him in. He walked towards the elevator and he got to the fifth floor where Jensen greeted him wearing a pair of denim overalls. Her hair was in their infamous Space Buns.

“Did you find the place, okay?”

“Yeah, helped you have parking,” he told her as she opened the door.

She lived in a loft. There were a bunch of canvases lining the ground some were clean and others painted. Stepping in it was just an open floor plan, being the kitchen and living room that was strategically blocked off. He made note of an art area set up. He figured where the photos would be taken.

The stairway he imagined led to her bedroom and bathroom.

“You live alone?” He asked.

“Yeah,” she replied. “So I was thinking we pick out the outfits you are comfortable in and then I can treat you to dinner?”

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“It’s no bother. It’s the least I could do.”

Jensen gave him a more thorough tour of his place. She grabbed his jackets and placed them on the hook. He kicked off his sneakers and placed them next to her pink Converses. He eyed her extensive record collection that he was itching to scour through. The place was warm and cozy until his cold place. There weren’t many pictures of her family, he noticed. The place was filled with artwork.

“Is this all your work?” He asked, as he admired a painting of a man caressing another man’s face. It was an intimate picture. He wondered how she came across that.

“Yeah, I was hesitant to hang them up…”

“They’re beautiful,” he told her. Eddie liked to sketch himself occasionally, but he was nowhere near as good as her.

“Thank you.”

She finished the tour of her place. It was much, but it was more than he had. He imagined that it could be lonely living in such a big place like this. She led him over to her drawing area. It surprised him to only find two outfits: a baby pink ballerina outfit with white tights and a black suit.

“I was expecting more,” he told her honestly.

“I thought if I did too much, it would get lost. So with the ballerina suit, I was just thinking of leaving you more natural. Maybe paint your nails?”

“Hey, you’re the boss. I’m following your lead.”

“Okay, I was thinking of black for the nails,” she muttered. She explained that for the black suit that she wanted him to wear makeup. Black eyeliner around his eyes, nude lipstick, and some blush. She was debating if she wanted him to wear glitter eyeshadow. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Eddie shrugged. He wasn’t one to get all tangled up with what was considered appropriate for their respective genders. He snatched the ballerina outfit with the tights. “Let me get changed and you can paint my nails.”

Eddie walked into the bathroom, more so for modesty's sake. He had to remind himself that Jensen has seen him naked multiple times at this point. The ballerina leotard was snug. He was grateful for the tutu, as it really didn’t leave much to the imagination. He grabbed his clothes and placed them neatly on the edge of her bed before trailing down the steps where Jensen sat at her dining room table with the black nail polish.

“Be careful walking down the steps. You could slip in those tights,” she warned.

Eddie took his time walking down the steps, holding onto the railing. Jensen looked up at him and admired his form.

“You like what you see?” He teased as he did a twirl.

“I think you know you’re pretty, Eddie,” she replied.

“So you think I’m pretty?”

“It’s one of the reasons I asked to draw you.”

Eddie chuckled as he sat down opposite her. He placed his hand out in front of him. He didn’t have much nails, considering he bit them out of a nervous habit. Her grip was soft but firm as she grabbed his thumb first.

“So, how long have you lived here?”

“Just the beginning of this year,” she informed him. “My dad owns a lot of real estate. This is one of the new buildings he bought.”

“And he let you move here all by yourself?”

Jensen shrugged. “I guess.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.” He backpedaled. He could tell when someone didn’t want to talk about their family life.

“It’s not like that,” she licked her lips as she concentrated on not getting the polish on his skin. “Just we’re not a close family. My dad provides for me. I don’t feel unloved. It’s just…”

“Are you the only child?”

“I have an older brother. He is in business. Don’t ask me what he does because I have no idea.”

Eddie nodded.

"What about you?"

Eddie blew a raspberry. He told her all about his uncle Wayne. It felt a disservice to even say he was an uncle when he was his father. There were many times his uncle and dad fought over the way his dad took him around to steal cars. The lack of a stable home. He told her all of that without shame that he knew how to hot wire a car at the age of 6. His mom left without a trace in the darkness of the night when he was 7. Eddie thought he could walk down the street and not even recognize the woman that gave birth to him. Things like that used to make him embarrassed, but now he knew it was just a fact of life. No one’s life was shiny or perfect. Everyone was a flawed individual with pluses and minuses.

She finished painting his nails, and he was unprepared when she grabbed his hand and began blowing on it. It caused him to jump in surprise. She didn’t comment on it.

Instead, she asked him about his favorite movies.

Eddie eyed the black nail polish on his nails as he stood in front of Jensen. He thought it was weird he felt more exposed right now than he did buck naked in a room full of people. Jensen was messing around with a camera as he rolled on his heels. The radio was on and low in the background. She told him to just be himself and not think. So he knew that he could exactly run around like a Tasmanian devil. She did put his hair up in a bun and he sort of felt like a ballerina.

He tried to think of poses ballerina did, but the only move he could think of was Stevie Nicks on the cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours album.

He stilled when he heard the click of the camera.

“Don’t worry about me, just do what’s natural,” Jensen commented.

Eddie quirked a brow and shook his body. He did a bunch of exaggerated poses as he hopped around the room and twirled. He did bows and kicks. The attempt to stand on his tippy toes didn't result in a broken toe.

Jensen didn’t interrupt. She just continuously snapped pictures, and it made him wonder how much film was in a camera.

But he was having fun. It was something different and a story to tell his uncle for sure. However, if he was going to be himself and she was looking to capture something, it had him standing straight. “Hey, I have an idea.”

Jensen moved the camera from her face as she looked at him curiously. He jetted upstairs to where his clothes were and grabbed his cigarettes and lighter.

“You have any beer here?” He asked as he rushed down the stairs.

“No, only wine,” Jensen said with a frown.

“Oh, Jen, if we are going to be friends you need to keep a 6-pack on stock,” Eddie said as he swiped a bottle on her countertop.

“Duly noted,” he heard her reply.

Eddie removed the cork and took a swing. He didn’t think he ever had wine. It wasn’t as if he knew anyone that drank it until now. He placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it.

“Now this is model material,” he said, muffled by the cigarette in his mouth.

Jensen took a photo before the words were out of his mouth.

She only took a couple dozen more photographs before she announced she believed it was time for a wardrobe change. He couldn’t believe it was going on for two hours since he walked through her door. Now, he was in a suit that seemed to be worth three months of his rent. His hair was in her signature space buns. His eyes were outlined with black and she had put a gold eyeshadow on his eyes. They debated on a lip gloss or a nude matte lipstick before the lipstick won out. It felt weird on his lips.

Jensen had directed him to be more still, like his poses for the art class. It would be a more thoughtful pose. She was kneeling on the floor to take pictures. It seemed she was playing with angles and close-ups. She wanted him to make more faces, from funny to serious. Mouth open with his tongue out or lips pursed in mock irritation.

She didn’t take as many as she did when him in the pink leotard and tutu. He was standing with his hands behind his back as he stared up at the ceiling. “Okay, I think that should be good.”

She gave him a bright smile. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Eddie.”

He shrugged. “It’s no problem.”

“So pizza and wings?” Eddie nodded his head, and Jensen walked over to her phone to order the food.

He walked upstairs back to her bathroom to change back into his regular clothes. He didn’t care about the nail polish on his fingers. Jensen would supply nail polish remover if he asked for it. The issue was in trying to remove the eyeliner, which he should have left alone. He had tried to wipe it off with some tissue, but he only ended up looking like a dry rat or a cartoonish raccoon.

He threw the soiled tissue away and opened the door. Moving out of the bathroom, he could hear Jensen humming along to Marvin Gaye. He stood at the top of her steps with a smile on his face as her hips swayed.

“Hey, Jen?”

She jumped a little and fixed the glasses on her face. She rushed over to the bottom of the steps. As her eyes gave him a full appraisal, a giggle escaped past her lips. “Need some help, yeah?”

He nodded his head as she walked up the stairs. “Come on, silly.”

“Hey, it’s not like makeup is a staple in my wardrobe,” he said to defend himself.

Jensen directed him to sit on the toilet while she grabbed a wicker basket that contained small, expensive-looking bottles.

It looked exhausting being a girl. Her nimble hands grabbed a light pink tube that had the words' milk and Honey on them surrounded by roses. Squeezing the bottle, a clear substance lined her fingertip.

"With makeup, it's best to work on dry rather than wet," she explained. "I ran out of my oil cleanser, which would be best for the first wash."

"First?" Eddie said with wide eyes. How many times did a person need to wash their face to get makeup off? It made him think of the band KISS and the fun they had wiping off that face paint.

“When you have a full face of makeup, you got to get it all off. I don’t care for a repeat of high school with pimples all on my forehead.” She told him as she rubbed the mixture onto his face and instructed him to close his eyes.

“Could always get some bangs,” he suggested.

“Is that what you did?”

Eddie hummed as he got used to someone washing his face. For Eddie, he washed his face when he was in the shower. Just rubbed some soap between his hands to form some suds and rubbed his face. He thought doing anything else was excessive.

But Jensen was gentle as she rubbed his face. He may have pressed his face further in her hands like a dog from the gentleness of it.

“Okay, we need to rinse your face,” she informed him, and her fingers disappeared. He kept his eyes closed as she lead him to the sink and guided him to bend down. He used his hands and wiped away the suds. When he was down, Jensen handed him a towel - a very soft towel - he might add. He began rubbing his face, and it startled him when Jensen released an affronted squeak. She ripped the towel from his hands.

“Hey, what was that for?” He asked. His brown eyes were wide in alarm.

“You’re going to ruin your skin drying it like that,” she told him. The artist moved closer to him. It wasn’t until they were practically chest to chest that he realized how tiny the woman in front of him was. “You’re supposed to pat gently.”

Eddie huffed in amusement. He bent down to give her a better angle as she patted his skin dry. “Wouldn’t want to ruin this pretty face with premature wrinkles, now would we?” He mumbled between the pats.

“You’re one for flattery, aren’t you?” Jensen observed after she finished drying his face.

His doe eyes were wide with mirth. “Flattery will get you everywhere, pretty girl.”

Jensen grabbed a small glass jar and unscrewed the lid. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Eddie’s cheeks went hot. Butterflies tickled his ribs. She scooped out a glob of white cream and made multiple markings on his face. He wasn’t aware he was getting a spa day out of this. “Erm, I think it’s pretty obvious.”

She paused, rubbing the cool substance into his skin. She looked at him curiously. Her eyes searched for something in his. He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t break eye contact. She did. Her fingers trembled against his skin.

He brought his hand up and grabbed her own. Her hands were small and smooth compared to his rough, calloused ones from playing guitar and helping his dad steal cars when he was younger.

“Did I say something wrong?” He asked, perplexed. He brought their hands down and used his thumb to rub a soothing circle.

She looked at their hands. “I just didn’t think…someone like you would look at me like that.”

Eddie was confused. “Someone like me?”

She looked up at him and pushed up her glasses despite there being no need to. Eddie was starting to think it was a nervous tick of hers.

“Ya know…” She bit her bottom lip.

“Someone that likes heavy metal? Long luscious hair? Dungeons and Dragons? I’m more partial to weed over coke,” he teased as he listed the things that made him a freak in Hawkins, as he tried to work a smile on her pretty face.

He could tell she was fighting a smile, but she brought her hand up and highlighted the contrast of their skin.

Eddie licked his lips. Jensen was a black woman, and he was a white man. He wasn’t going to act like he wasn’t aware of that fact. He knew his view of the world was very different from hers and if something would be pursued; it would be a learning curve for him in the sense of realizing the privileges it afforded him.

“Should I not like you?” He asked instead.

“Just because you think I’m pretty is very different from liking me,” she pointed out.

Eddie nodded his head. “Do you like me?”

“I think you’re pretty.”

“Not what I asked,” he said as he dropped their hands. He wasn’t sure where this conversation was going and it was making him nervous. He gripped the edge of the countertop and emotions swirled through him.

Jensen never answered the question as the buzzer to her apartment rang, announcing the arrival of the pizza man.

Eddie wasn’t sure what happened in Jensen’s apartment. Once they left the space of her bathroom, they never brought up what happened. The tension was still there, but instead of releasing it, they let it fester.

Eddie had left shortly after the pizza and back to his bleak apartment. He followed the motions for the next couple of days. He ignored Andy’s inquisition about Jensen from the party. Eddie wanted to keep her to himself as he was still reeling from how the atmosphere changed between them at her place. It made him all the more nervous for the next studio session.

When he arrived, Benson told him to be sad, which Eddie knew wouldn’t be a problem. He chewed on his nails as he watched people arrive. His eyes waiting for Jensen’s presence in the room. The brunette was curious if she was out of sorts like he was. If she even thought about him as much as he had her. She trailed in with her pink Converses and a pair of denim overalls. Hair up in two space buns. It worried him that she may ignore him. Yet, any sadness lingering eased as before she sat down at her easel. She waved at him.

Eddie thought he was a goner if such a simple gesture made his heart swell.

Eddie slid his arm through his leather jacket as he moved out from behind the partition and was startled to see Jensen still there. Her things were packed in the large tote bag she carried as she stood by her easel. Benson was still in the room and Eddie could see from the corner of their eyes he was discreetly watching them with a smile.

“Hey?” He greeted.

“Do you have a minute?” She asked.

Eddie nodded as she lead him out of the studio. She led them to a small nook that contained two chairs with a small table in between. The pleather seats groaned from their weight.

She pushed her glasses up. “I…just wanted to say sorry for what happened at my place.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he told her.

She shook her head. “No, I assumed things. And you’ve been really nice and sweet.”

Eddie’s cheeks went pink at the compliment. He wasn’t sure what to say, but Jensen continued on, “I…I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me?”

Eddie’s jaw dropped to the floor. He was speechless, but his brain rapidly caught up with the situation. “Um….do you want to go now?”

Jensen giggled.

The first date was simply getting ice cream, and Eddie got a brain freeze. Eddie didn’t kiss her, though, but he wanted to. He learned that she didn’t have a car, which surprised him. He ended up dropping her off at her place. She parted giving him a kiss on the cheek. He liked Jensen a lot.

In the following class, he had to model. It was hard not staring at Jensen and keeping the flush out of his cheeks. He thought it was a bit juvenile being in his early 20s, acting like this over a girl. Yet, he never got to have movements like these in high school. Sure, there were girls he thought were pretty. He admired them from far away. It wasn’t like he could act on those interests. The only time he regularly talked to girls was if they were making a deal with him.

He learned that Jensen had a pretty open schedule. She mainly focused on making art pieces to sell and he learned she volunteered at a local community house helping with art classes or things like production designs for theater projects.

So when they planned things, it was around his schedule. She had invited him over to her place, as she had to put the finishing touches on a commission. Since he was going to be working two doubles, they would see each other until his time as a nude model.

He had the code to her place and bypassed the buzzer easily. She was waiting for him by the elevator. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek before she dragged him to her open door by the hand.

“So what are we working on today?” He asked as he kicked off his shoes.

“The usual. The deceased pet of a very rich lady,” she told him as she walked back to her studio. She was using oil pastels for this drawing. His eyes flicked over to seven easels, all covered by sheets. Those were the oil paintings of the photoshoot they did that he was not allowed to see until they were done.

He was confused at first about why she would want him over while she worked. There wasn’t anything wrong with watching her paint and draw. He enjoyed seeing that intense level of concentration. Heck, it even allowed him to improve his own meager doodles he did for D&D campaigns. Sometimes, she would eye the piece and give him pointers on how to improve. Yet, he figured that maybe Jensen didn’t like to be alone. Since he began to fill the spaces of her life, there hadn’t been any mention of her family since the day of the photoshoot.

Eddie stood behind her as he looked at the scrunched face of a pug. Jensen somehow made the ugly dog cute. “I’m almost done.”

“Take your time,” he told her over her shoulder. It amazed him he got to witness Jensen work on original pieces like this. He knew she would be something someday.

She turned her head to look at him, and he gave her a smile. He could see the freckles that trailed across her nose. She had no makeup on it seemed. Just a slight tint to her lips.

His eyes lingered on her lips before he trailed to her eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

“You don’t have to ask that, Eddie,” she whispered.

Eddie leaned forward and pressed his lips softly to her. He didn’t know what to expect out of their first kiss. But he liked how her breath hitched that allowed his tongue entry to meet her own. She tasted like oranges and he hummed deep in his throat. Jensen shifted in her chair and turned. Her chest pressed against his, her hands tugged on the bottom of his shirt. He knew there would be pastel stains there.

The need for air became apparent, and he pulled back, licking his lips and tasting the cherry chapstick.

“You feeling a movie or game?” He asked.

“I think I can kick your ass in Guess Who.”

“Those are fighting words, baby.”

Jensen laughed. Eddie couldn’t resist planting another kiss on those sweet lips of hers.

Eddie hummed to Metallic as he worked on his orders. Another perk of being a sandwich artist was being able to listen to his preferred music without shame. The shop wasn’t particularly busy today. They had their few regulars that left generous tips and some left field orders. He had just finished wrapping a sandwich up that was due for a pickup when he heard a familiar voice that made his ears perk.

He spun around to find Jensen, no space buns, but hair out in her natural curls, at the register talking to Andy. She caught his eye and gave him a wave. Andy turned to look at him and threw him a wink.

Eddie shook his head. He took off his latex gloves and cleaned his hands with some hand sanitizer.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” He asked as she subtly pushed Andy out of the way.

Jensen gave him a shy smile. “Well, I was in the area…”

Eddie threw her a look, as he knew she was not in the area. His sandwich shop was fairly new and nowhere near a close vicinity to her place. Besides, the lack of any type of shopping bags gave away her little fib.

“So you thought this was your chance for me to cook for you?” Eddie teased as he drummed his fingers against the countertop.

He watched those lovely brown eyes roll to the back of her head. She had red glitter eyeshadow on today. She was wearing an AC/DC shirt with a pair of black jeans and a pair of red Converse. It always amazed him how well Jensen matched down to her pair of socks.

“I would hardly call slapping meat on a sandwich cooking, Eds,” he retorted.

“See, with that attitude, I’m revoking the free cookie I was going to give you.” He told her with the waggle of a finger.

Jensen giggled. “I was wondering if you wanted to stop by after work. We can have a movie marathon or something. I know you work the morning shift, but you can stay the night if you want.”

Eddie’s head snapped up at her words. Things had been progressing slowly between the two. Not that he minded. But spending the night meant potentially sharing the same bed.

He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah, sure, if that’s okay.”

Jensen smiled. “So, what do you recommend?”

Eddie gave her a lecherous smile as he tapped his lips pointedly. Jensen rolled her eyes as she leaned over the counter and gave him a kiss.

“I don’t think Eddie Munson kisses are on the menu!” Andy hollered from behind him.

Eddie packed a simple overnight bag. He had been a tad bit embarrassed about showing Jensen his place. It wasn’t warm like hers. His place was impersonal. A place just to rest his head. It wasn’t as cluttered as he had it back at his Uncle’s. He still had some of his posters and all his music with a small TV, but that was about it. He preferred having his rent paid than an actual dining room set or TV.

Jensen didn’t comment on his lack of material possessions, but she did admire his sweetheart that he had hung on the wall.

He didn’t know what to expect for this movie night. His palms were sweaty as he sat on her soft couch. He didn’t expect anything to happen. Things were going at a nice pace and if he was honest with himself, he had no idea what he was doing.

The world of dating and intimacy was new to him.

Eddie rubbed his face as before the movie it subjected him to participating in her nightly skincare routine. By the extra headband he had to wear and the bonnet she got for him, he suspected she was planning this for a while. He could admit his skin was nice and soft. Smooth to the touch. Or hydrated, as Jensen pointed out.

Jensen came back in with the bowl of popcorn. She swore a very appealing cheetah print shorts with a black tank. It didn’t leave much to the imagination, and he liked the way her ass looked.

She settled next to him and placed the bowl on her lap. He pressed play with the remote to the VCR, starting the movie. Jensen was a horror movie queen. Eddie leaned towards the fantasy realm. He loved the action adventures. Not saying he didn’t enjoy a good horror, he had a good knowledge of them, but Jensen did put him to shame with all the trivia and behind the scene facts. He believed she enjoyed them due to the practical effects and makeup. It fit with her being an artist.

They stayed pressed together on her couch. Jensen would interject little trivia facts. They had gotten to the end of their popcorn, leaving them with buttery fingers. Eddie had been about to move to grab them some napkins when he watched Jensen pop her fingers in her mouth. She chucked on them like a cherry lollipop.

He imagined her tongue swirling around the tips of the appendages. He swallowed the lump in his throat as she showcased the spit soaked tips glistening in the glow throughout the living room. Christ, Eddie felt himself getting hard.

He shifted in his spot, as he knew he would need to make a trip to the bathroom soon. However, the moment caused Jensen to look at him. He knew he needed to make a quick escape as he looked at those full lips shiny in butter and spit.

He waved his hand out. “Uhh…I…need to wash my hands.”

“Wait.”

Jensen grabbed his greasy hand, and he was going to question what she was doing when she popped the tip of one of his fingers in his mouth and sucked.

“Shit.”

He felt her tongue swipe at his finger and he choked out a moan.

“Jen…I…ummm,” he was at a lost for words as he felt himself fatten in his very light cotton pajama pants.

She gave him some mercy as she released his finger with a pop. “Do you not like it?”

“Oh, I do,” Eddie admitted. His face was hot with lust and nervousness. “It’s just you do things like that…” He trailed off and her gaze went to the tent forming in his shorts.

“You know I have seen your dick before,” she remarked with a tease.

“Trust me, I know, but…I mean…” Eddie took a breath. “I’m a virgin,” he admitted, as he didn’t know where this night was going to go. He just wanted to prepare her for any disappointment.

“Really?” She asked in disbelief.

He scratched his head and nodded. “I wasn’t…lets just say I’m surprised you give me any attention.”

“I guess their loss then,” Jensen stated.

“Your gain?” He joked. Jensen’s face heated. “Are you a virgin?”

“No. I had a boyfriend in high school. He was my first.”

Eddie nodded.

“Does that bother you?”

“Oh, no. I figured one of us should know what we are doing. Why would it?”

She shrugged. “Most guys get weird about those things.”

“I thought we figured out I’m not most guys.”

Jensen licked her lips. “Do you want me to take care of that?” She motioned to his erection, which was not going down anytime soon.

“Um, do you want to?”

Jensen nodded enthusiastically and moved from the couch to down to the floor in between his knees. He gulped.

He helped her shimmy his shorts and boxers down. “I don’t think I’m going to last long,” he warned. This was the first time he ever had a girl down there. He was sure as soon as she touched him, he was going to explode.

“That’s okay,” she told him as she stood taller on her knees. Her hands gripped his heated flesh, causing a drip of pre-cum to dribble out from the tip. He choked as she gave him a kitty lick.

“You're so pretty, Eddie,” she crooned before licking him from base to tip.

“Red and swollen and leaking all for me. Ain’t that right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie croaked as he gripped the couch’s cushion.

He watched as she sucked on his mushroom tip and Eddie couldn’t even describe the noise that escaped from his throat.

He cursed when she took him fully in her mouth, and he felt the back of her throat.

“Fuck, shit, baby, I don’t think…” he could already feel that tightening in his balls and that tingling at the base of his spine. She took him out of her mouth and his throat went dry as a string of spit was on her lips connected to his dick.

“I want you to come in my mouth, okay,” she told him before he had a chance to ask if she was sure as she sucked on his tip again and her tongue swiped at his slit.

“Jen, I’m coming,” he told her as he accidentally bucked his hips into her mouth and he coated her throat. She hummed around him as she took it all and kept him there until he was spent.

She took him out of her mouth gently and it embarrassed him at how quick he came.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed,” Jensen told him from between his knees. “Did you like it?”

“Of course, I liked it,” Eddie said with a chuckle.

Jensen smiled and Eddie leaned forward and place a kiss on her mouth and found he didn’t mind the taste of him on her tongue.

“Can I return the favor?” He asked.

“You don’t have to feel obligated.”

“I don’t. I want to,” he reassured her. “Just show me what you like.”

“Okay, let’s go to my room,” she suggested. They don’t bother cleaning up the living room as they head to her room. Eddie tucked himself back into his shorts and trailed after her. Nervous butterflies in his belly.

Jensen removed her glasses and placed them on her nightstand. She sat in the middle of the bed with her. She removed her shirt and bottoms, leaving her bare before him. He joined her on the bed and immediately brought her into a kiss. He gave her a deep, wet kiss as his hands trailed to her bare breasts and gave them a squeeze. His ringed fingers swiped against the hardened bud. Jensen’s back arched and she gasped into his mouth.

He gave her spongy kisses on her jaw as she trailed down to her neck. His mouth left a trail of hickeys on her neck and chest. She seemed to love the cool contrast of his rings to her heated skin if her moans and pants were any indication.

His thigh was coated with her wetness as she rubbed herself against him. He could feel himself hardening at the thought of only his thigh getting her off. He popped off her nipple with a loud smack.

Her hands were tangled in his hair, and her eyes looked black, like a demon in the darkness of her room and with her dilated pupils.

He licked and nipped at her tummy as he made the venture down south. She had soft curls that showcased her arousal. His mouth watered at the sight.

Her soft hand grabbed his, and she placed it on her swollen pink button.

“This —ahhh,” her words got caught off as she parted her lips and gave her a long swipe. Her taste was tangy and intoxicating. Jensen’s legs try to cage him, but he uses his hands to bring them down on the bed to lie flat.

“Eddie,” she whined as he sucked on her clit.

“Shh, I got you,” he cooed as he licked and sucked in intervals.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” Jensen questioned between sharp mewls.

“Positive,” he told her as he felt her juices stain his face. “But if you can make full sentences, I don’t think I’m doing my job right.”

He brushed his nose against her clit as he stuck his tongue inside her hole. Jensen released a strangled scream, and he felt her fingers grip his hair tightly as she tried to ride his face.

Eddie doubled his efforts, and he released one of his hands off her thigh as he brought a finger down to her hole and gently pushed it in and they both moan as she accommodated his finger eagerly.

He curled his finger and gave her clit a hard suck, and he felt another gush of wetness and her pussy tighten around his finger. Jensen’s grip on his hair was painful as she released drawn-out moan. Her thighs tried to cage his head as she rode out her high.

Eddie gave her a soft, sweet kiss on her pussy. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Jensen laughed.

#untilmynextstory #eddiemunsonweek #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie muson x oc #eddie munson x ofc #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson smut

59 notes · View notes

bubblesuga · 4 years ago

Text

Turning Page - Part 1

Summary: Sometimes you find yourself in the right place at the right time and unknowingly, you fall in love. Min Yoongi certainly didn’t expect that when he met eyes with you one fateful night in late July. Nor did he expect to end up naked in your apartment while you drew his body.

w/c: 7,302 genre: struggling producer!yoongi au, new relationship, fluff, smut warnings: oral (m receiving), dom!yoongi, switch!reader, raw sex, spanking, reader has a praise kink, yoongi has a dirty mouth (but lets be honest, what else is new?), slight exhibitionism, jungkook is too nosy for his own good

It’s not often that you find yourself at a 24 hour diner in the middle of the night with an insane amount of papers splayed out in front of you as eat your waffles while answering emails and trying your hardest to copy the manuscripts sent to you but for some god-awful reason it’s happened to you on more than one occasion this week alone.

The manuscript, which the author unabashedly decided to hand write instead of type in this day and age, was way too long and had way too much detail. Unfortunately for you, your boss only reads typed manuscripts and insisted that you copy every word and type it for her by Monday. You know for a fact that your boss is going to get three chapters into this absolute mess of a story and toss it but you have no choice but to listen to her.

This is definitely not how you expected being an intern to go yet here you are, wondering and waiting for the day that you can move on and start your own company like you’ve wanted to for practically your entire life.

“Can I get you a refill on your coffee?” A voice asks, and you glance up to see the waitress, an older woman with a smile that could light up a thousand suns.

“Yes please,” you smile, holding out your mug to her as she pours directly from the pot, “thank you.”

“No problem, I always see you working so hard so I figured you could use the energy boost.” she grins, patting your shoulder lightly as she begins to walk away and help the other few tables which also happen to be hosting tired college students and early risers or late sleepers.

Without even realizing it, another half hour passes by you quickly. Your eyes burn, but you count the remaining pages and try to push through. Quickly though, your ears spot the sound of dishes clanking together and you can’t help but pull your attention in that direction.

A man with blond hair and dark eyes is cleaning the table in front of you. He adorns an apron around his waist and a white t-shirt with black pants. The busboy wipes down the table, and you admire his side profile as he does so. His features are soft, a rounded nose and down-turned lips held almost in a pout. You have never come across a man so stunningly beautiful, it nearly causes your breath to be caught in your throat.

You’re staring for so long that the man catches on to your watchful eye, glancing over in your direction with a raised eyebrow. You smile sheepishly, “Sorry.”

The man smirks, shaking his head before hauling the bin of empty cups and plates towards the kitchen. Your heart sinks for a moment, but you shake the feeling to the best of your ability and try to finish typing.

A few more moments pass, and you hear someone sitting across from you. You glance up and see the man sat across from you, apron gone and a black jacket now covering his torso.

“Can I help you?” You question softly, clasping your hands together atop the table.

He bites his bottom lip, “I feel like I should be asking you the same thing.”

“Pardon?”

“You were watching me earlier, just curious what was on your mind was all.” He shrugs, his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets.

You swallow, the way his eyes scan you causes your face to flush. Carefully, you stack up your papers and clean the table slightly while you try to think a way to dance around the answer to his question. He waits patiently, which only causes you to panic internally.

“I was thinking that you would be nice to draw.” you finally settle on, and it’s true. He looks like a work of art, and you’d love to have had him as a model in your art class when you went to college.

He doesn’t seem to expect that answer, his eyes widening slightly as his head tilts, “So draw me.”

“Ah,” you immediately wave your hand dismissively, “I haven’t drawn in a couple years and I was never any good at it anyway.”

He leans forward, mirroring your position from earlier, “But if that was your first thought then surely you still have an interest in it.” The smooth cadence of his tone intimidates you to no end, yet it entices you and pulls you in even more. How can a stranger hold so much power over you?

“I’ll tell you what,” you say after a moment, suddenly gaining a brush of confidence when you see a twinkle in his eye, “you come to my apartment tomorrow night and I’ll draw you.”

“That sounds like a trap to murder me.” He remarks, a gummy grin stretching across his face and you have to hold back a small ‘awe’, your chest twisting at the sight.

“You want to get drawn or not?” you bite back, just as teasingly.

He shakes his head, a small chuckle leaving his pink lips, “Give me your phone.”

You raise an eyebrow, reaching into your bag and pulling out your phone. You unlock it for him and he takes it immediately, keeping the screen just far enough away from you that you can’t see what he’s doing. Soon enough, he stands abruptly and sets your phone down onto the table.

He smirks, “Text me the address, I’ll be there.”

The stranger wanders down the isle and towards the front door, and you watch in awe at his broad shoulders and shapely figure. Something about the way he carried himself made your mouth water.

Breaking out of your trance, you quickly unlock your phone and and see a newly added contact. At the top of the screen is a simple ‘Yoongi ;)’ titling the contact.

You blush, gnawing your bottom lip gently as he passes by the window and sends a wink your way.

~*~*~

He’s going to be here any moment. He’s going to walk through your door with his stupid fucking smirk and attractive eyes and he’s going to be in your living room, posing for a while so you can draw him.

And you’re freaking out.

After he left you immediately sent him your address, and since then the two of you have been talking non stop. It was mostly about small things, jobs, favorite foods and favorite colors... Although it may have only been a day, you feel like you know him pretty well. He’s funny and charismatic and oh so charming, no wonder you were so drawn in to his beauty because he’s gorgeous from the inside out.

You haphazardly through your jackets and shoes into the closet by the front door, only recently becoming aware of how much clothes you leave strewn throughout your home.

Just as you light a cinnamon scented candle in the center of the room, your doorbell rings.

You rush over to the door and glance in the mirror to fluff your hair and wipe away any runny make up. Exhaling a deep breath, you open the door and greet Yoongi with a smile.

“Hello.” you say simply, opening the door wider and motioning for Yoongi to come in. He’s dressed in a black button up and tight fitting black jeans, a stark contrast to his work attire. He carries with him a back pack and a bottle of whiskey.

He notices the way you eye the bottle, and he flushes slightly, “I figured it could help with your nerves. A- and mine, because I’m a little nervous as well.”

“Nervous?” you trudge into your living room with Yoongi following closely behind, “why are you nervous?”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure if you expected this to be a nude drawing or not so I wore nice clothes but I’m also willing to take them off.” He scratches the bottom of his chin, watching as you set up the easel.

You pause your movements, eyes widening, “N- nude?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, twisting open the bottle of whiskey, “isn’t that what you do in those fancy art classes? Draw nude people?”

“I- I mean, we did,” you stutter, your throat going dry, “but they were always women because I went to an all female college.”

“Ah, so you could use the practice,” he grins confidently, but it drops suddenly, “unless you’re uncomfortable with that. Then, fully clothed is fine with me.”

The thought of being able to see the gorgeous man nude excited you more than you’d like to admit, and seeing as you two were in the safety and comfort of your own home, you had no problem with him doing it so long as he wanted to, and by the way his fingers are itching to undo the first button of his shirt, you figure he is.

“Go ahead. You’re right, I can use the practice.”

Yoongi smiles and with trembling fingers he begins to take his clothes off. As he does so, you focus on setting up the rest of your supplies. The charcoal set sits idly on the table beside you and you finally sit down with a sigh.

As you turn your eyes back to Yoongi, you see that he is splayed across your couch with the bottle in hand.

Holy fuck, his body is just as gorgeous as his face. He’s lean, but you can tell he definitely works out his arms and his legs are long, a pinkish tint holds itself to his skin and you’re unsure if he’s being shy or if the alcohol has already taken affect on him. Eventually you let your eyes land on his hips, his pelvis presenting itself neatly between his legs. It takes everything in you not to drop what you’re doing and let him fuck you into oblivion.

“(Y/N)?” you hear, and you’re brought back to the current situation. Yoongi’s face holds a knowing smirk, and he leans forward to hand you the bottle of whiskey.

You take it gratefully, your heart thudding harshly in your chest as you take a sip.

“Is this position okay?” he questions, one leg bent at the knee and resting on the other one. His right arm rests extended on the back of the couch while his left hand plays dangerously close to his pelvis.

“Y- yes.” you breathe, picking up your pencil and beginning the sketch.

It doesn’t take long for you to get the basic sketch down, your love for drawing coming back in droves as Yoongi sits silently, watching your face as you continue to sketch across the paper. He smiles, your nose crinkling before you erase a line or your tongue poking out as your concentrating on a specific area.

After a little bit of silence, you speak up, “Do you want me to draw, uhm,” you pause your sentence and gesture towards his hips, to which he responds with a little laugh.

“My cock?”

His use of the word shocks you a little bit, but you silently remind yourself that you are a grown woman and are completely capable of listening to a man talk about his anatomy, even when you’re immensely attracted to him and have to continually swallow the drool that threatens to fall from your mouth.

“Yeah, your- your cock.” you nearly whisper, noticing the way his cock twitches slightly at your voice.

Okay, he’s getting just as much enjoyment out of this as I am.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, shifting a few inches, “I want you to draw my cock.”

You nod, turning back to your drawing and beginning the last details.

Yoongi doesn’t take his attention away from your face, gauging your reaction to his body. He likes the way you’re so attentive, and it’s taking everything in him not to harden, though he’s unsure how much longer he can hold off.

His mind reels with the possibility of you riding him right on this couch. After spotting you at the restaurant he knew that he wanted you. It’s been far too long since he’s had sex, and his pickiness has become more and more evident, especially to his roommates. However, the moment he saw you, he could nearly imagine the way you would feel around him and when he saw you staring he knew that he was in the clear to come over and talk to you.

This definitely wasn’t how he expected it to turn out but he has no complaints.

“I’m almost done,” you murmur, your brow furrowed in concentration, “you can move now. All I have to do is shade a little.”

Yoongi lets out a small breath, his fingers dancing across his hip bone as he lays comfortably on his back, “Do you need me to get dressed now?”

You glance up, your face mostly hidden by the sketch pad, “If you would like to.”

Slight disappointment hits Yoongi as he realizes that he’s not going to be able to touch you today. He sits up and reaches for his boxers, but you stop him.

“Or you could give me a minute and I’ll undress too.” you say casually, shrugging as you pick up a black pen and sign the bottom of the drawing.

Yoongi’s jaw drops, and there’s no stopping it now. He instantly feels blood rush to his cock and watches intently while you spin the easel around and show him your work of art.

Across the page, Yoongi sees himself displayed and detail lining every area of the sketch. He notices the way his eyes twinkle even in the drawing and if there were ever a time to think of himself as attractive, it would be now that he’s been drawn by you.

“Do you like it?” you ask nervously.

Yoongi grins, “I love it.”

“Good,” you whisper, and you stand up. You take a careful step over to him, and Yoongi doesn’t take his eyes away from you. As you’re about to slip your shirt over your head, he stops you.

“Let me, please.” he begs gently, and you nod. He stands up quickly and hooks his fingers around the hem of your shirt. You lift your arms and allow him to slip the material over your head. His movements are slow, tantalizing and teasing you but also drawing you into him.

He places his hand against your side, drawing small circles before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

It lasts no more than a few seconds, but you instantly miss the contact. He smiles, his nose crinkling as he does so and your heart can be heard from inside your chest, singing as he looks you in the eyes. He unhooks your bra, tossing it to the side and suddenly his lips are back on yours.

It’s much more feverish than before, the taste of the whiskey and his strawberry flavored lip balm mix together on your tongue. The combination is harmonious, and he tastes exactly like you thought he would.

Suddenly, he grips your shorts and pants, slipping them down your legs and softly commanding you to step out of them. You steady yourself on his shoulders and do as he says, your legs trembling with anticipation.

“Last chance to back out of this if you don’t want it.” Yoongi says, his hands cupping your jaw and using his thumb to swipe gently at your cheek. You smile, “I want this.”

He nods, “On your knees.”

You instantly listen, dropping to your knees in front of him and licking your lips hungrily at now being eye level with Yoongi’s now hard cock. He smirks, “You can touch.”

You nod hesitantly, then reach forward and pump him up and down a few times. Instantly, Yoongi’s head falls backward and a moan falls from his lips, gloriously loud and deep.

The sound sends tingles straight to your heat, and you tentatively stick your tongue out to lick the tip of his member. His hips flex and you open your mouth automatically to accept him into your mouth. He goes a little further than expected and you gag as you feel him hit the back of your throat.

“’M sorry,” he moans, “fuck your throat feels so good.”

He looked heavenly, sweat begins to line his forehead as you use your tongue on the underside of his cock, paying special attention to the pulsating vein.

His hands gather your hair up in his hands, “There we go, wanna see your pretty face as you suck my cock.”

Fuck.

You take him as deep into your mouth as you possibly can and hold him there, moaning at his dirty mouth and feeling yourself grow wetter by the second.

“Good girl,” he feels your hands begin to roam his torso, his muscles flexing beneath his fingertips, “gonna cum.”

With that, you pop off of him and see his eyes fall to you incredulously. “I was gonna-”

“I know,” you grin, “but wouldn’t it feel better inside of me?”

“You are so fucking hot.” he says, pulling you up to his level and slamming his lips to yours. You tug him down as you fall onto the couch, his cock brushing ever-so-lightly between your legs and causing both of you to gasp.

It doesn’t take Yoongi long to line himself up at your entrance, your legs wrapped carefully around his waist and guiding him in slowly. Yoongi watches the way your eyes roll backwards as he bottoms out, a moan falling from his lips as he steadies himself.

He had never felt as much pleasure than in this moment.

The eroticism of the entire situation made everything feel more sensual. Despite barely knowing him, you felt a connection to him stronger than anyone ever before. The way his cock seems to fit perfectly within you, stroking and massaging your velvety walls, immediately has you reeling beneath him.

“I’m not gonna last very long,” Yoongi starts, his arms shaking as he holds himself above you, “what can I do to help you out?”

“That’s okay, just fuck me.” You gasp.

You feel him reach a point inside you that sends waves through your body, your back arching off the couch. Yoongi catches the way your breathing has grown ragged, and reaches his hand between the two of you.

His thumb manages to find your clit, collecting your wetness and rubbing over it gently. His thrusts stay slow and steady, but even so you’re unable to hold back. As your orgasm approaches, you bring Yoongi down to your mouth and feel the way he nibbles at your bottom lip. Suddenly, he speeds his thrusts up and his thumb swipes fast and sloppy circles across your clit.

You feel your breath catch in your throat as your orgasm washes over you, a mewl of content leaving your mouth as Yoongi soon follows after, strings of hot cum coating your walls and adding to the sensitivity of your heat.

He collapses on top of you, his lips peppering kisses across your exposed chest while your hand caresses his hair.

“I would have been able to last longer if you weren’t so fucking good at giving head.” Yoongi nearly whines, his chest heaving while he attempts to catch his breath.

“It’s okay,” you smile, pushing his hair back and exposing his forehead, “we both got there in the end.”

Yoongi shrugs, making no effort to move off of you as he buries himself in your chest, “If you hadn’t, I would have no problem making you cum on my tongue.” His words are slightly muffled by your breasts which only causes you to giggle.

“Hm, I’m open to experiencing that on another day,” his lips turn up against your skin at your words, “but can I give you some pointers?”

Yoongi’s head pops up, his eyes looking at you incredulously, “you just said that we both got there in the end, what more do I need to do?”

“Be louder,” you whisper, his tone teasing, “I like when a man is vocal.”

His eyes glare jokingly, “Okay, you’re on. I’ll be as loud as you want.”

You giggle, pressing a light kiss to his nose and watching the way his face scrunch up at the contact.

His chin rests on you, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, “I like you a lot.”

“Are you basing this solely off of the fact that I made you cum?”

“That plays a part in it,” he chuckles, “but I want to see you again for sure. You seem cool, and I’d really like to take you out to dinner some time.”

“Ah,” you click your tongue, “we did it backwards.”

Yoongi laughs, a melodic sound that instantly makes your heart speed up.

The two of you lay there for a little bit, your hand stroking his hair as you talk about the most mundane tasks. He tells you a little bit about his job, how his friend owns the diner the two of you met at and Yoongi likes to help out every once in a while for some extra cash.

His real passion lies in music, which is why he was so hellbent to see you make art again. He loves encouraging people to create, to take charge and express themselves in the purest forms.

After what seems like hours, Yoongi hears his phone ding. With a groan of disapproval, he climbs off of you and reaches into his jeans for his phone.

You situate yourself on your side, watching the way Yoongi runs a hand through his messy hair and checks his phone.

“Seokjin wants me to come serve tonight,” he says with a sigh, “I’ll text you after I get off, yeah?”

You nod, “I need to finish up some work anyway.”

Silently, Yoongi begins to dress himself for the first time since he entered your apartment. You pout visibly as he slips his boxers back on, standing up and following suit by dressing yourself as well.

As soon as you’re both dressed, you carefully tear Yoongi’s drawing out of the sketch pad and reach out to hand it to him.

“You’re giving it to me?” He questions, taking it with a raised eyebrow.

You nod, “I don’t feel right in keeping it.”

He shakes his head, “You should keep it for a rainy day.”

Your eyes turn to slits while you inspect the drawing. You quietly slip it back into the sketchbook while Yoongi lets out another laugh.

You lead him back to the front door, your arms crossed over your chest. Different from previous hook ups, you didn’t feel dirty after everything that you did. Instead, you felt comforted by the fact that he didn’t just leave as soon as he finished. He seemed like he genuinely wanted to take care of you and that wasn’t something you came across often.

As he shuts the door behind him, you can’t help but touch your lips while you remember the feeling of his.

~*~*~

“Hey Seokjin,” Yoongi greets as he enters the diner through the back door.

Seokjin flips some sauteed vegetables in a pan and glances over at his younger friend, “Hey Yoon-” he pauses, setting down the pan, “you got laid didn’t you?”

Yoongi throws his head back, muttering a small ‘damn it’ knowing that he’s going to get grilled until Seokjin is happy with the amount of details he’s received.

“Yeah I did.” he sighs.

“Hm, well you don’t seem too happy about it. Was she awful or something?”

Yoongi whips his head towards Seokjin, “What? No, god no. She was fantastic.”

“Then why the long face?”

“Because I had to leave her to come help you.” Yoongi shrugs, chuckling when he feels Seokjin shove him lightly.

Shaking his head, Seokjin plates up the food while he talks to Yoongi, “Was it the cute editor you were talking about last night?”

Yoongi feels a twinge of jealousy hit his chest when he hears Seokjin saw you too, but it’s quickly replaced with triumph once he realizes that he got to you first.

“She’s an intern, not an editor quite yet, but yeah that’s her.”

“Good man,” he praises, “does that mean you’re back on your game?”

Yoongi scoffs, “Just because I fuck one girl doesn’t mean I’m immediately going to try and fuck every girl I’m attracted to again.”

Sure, Yoongi admits he went through a phase of... being well known. Especially in college, Yoongi was known to be a man of many special talents. After a while of random hook ups and making girls scream his name, he lost interest. He assumed it was because he got bored of it, but now he’s realizing that he was much more interested in having a relationship. Ever since he realized that, he had been waiting for someone to fall into his lap.

For some reason, the moment he saw you he felt some indescribable feeling that drew him to you. Like all that waiting had finally paid off and he needed to talk to the girl with laser focus and a cute smile.

“Oh, so you like this girl?” Seokjin says, glancing at the screen as another order comes in.

“Yeah, a lot. She’s an artist.” He grins, calling back from the locker room connected to the kitchen.

“Awe, did she draw you a picture?” Seokjin coos, a loud laugh following his teasing words.

Yoongi’s cheeks blush as he suddenly flashes back to the events of today, “Yeah, you could say that.”

Seokjin glances into the locker room, “I’ll question further later, for now you need to go to section A and help out Hwasa because she is drowning in tickets.”

“Yes sir!” Yoongi mocks a salute, walking out to the dining area.

~*~*~

From: Yoongi (received 16:34)

Be ready in 20. Dress comfortably.

Your jaw drops as you stare at your phone, rushing upward from your position on your couch with a bag of chips and blankets surrounding you.

You glance your at your reflection in passing and practically run to the bathroom to comb your hair.

It’s only been two weeks since the two of you met. Your comforted by the fact that your phone always has a good morning text and a good night text from Yoongi. The two of you have yet to have a dry conversation and even if Yoongi is stuck at work or working on one of his secret projects, he makes sure to send a text that he’ll respond as soon as he has the chance.

Previously you had never had someone so attentive, especially even in just the talking stages. At one point he called you, his voice rough and laced with sleep but the entire time he seemed lively and excited to talk to you. Your heart swelled with adoration the entire time and you’re safe in thinking that Yoongi feels the same.

Because you haven’t seen Yoongi since the day you drew him, you find yourself regularly looking at the drawing.

For the first time in what seems like years, you felt proud of something you had created. A constant rut that collapsed in on you like a black hole, drowning you in a state of constant despair, disappeared in half a day. Since then, you’re brain is reeling with creative thought and you couldn’t wait to show Yoongi what you’ve been drawing in your free time. He encourages you in a way that makes you feel like you can be whatever you want to be.

One thing you were most proud of was your self-portrait. Your legs laid spread in front of a mirror for hours while you tried to perfect a drawing for Yoongi, to give back since he allowed you to keep his.

“Why do all my cute bras disappear when I need them most?” you whine outwardly, your phone dinging again.

From Yoongi (received 16:48)

Oops, I’m early.

You smile.

To Yoongi (sent 16:49)

You’re lucky you’re cute Be out soon

Quickly, you slip on a simple blue laced bra and t-shirt with a red skirt. Hoping that you were still cute in your comfortable clothes, you let out a nervous breath and head to the door. You grab your sketch book before you lock your door, Yoongi’s car parked at the end of the breezeway. You spot him before he spots you, a black beanie adorned on his head with his gorgeous blond hair peaking out beneath.

You open his door and Yoongi immediately puts his phone away, “Hey.”

“Hi.” You greet, slipping your sketchbook into the back seat. Yoongi leans over the center console and holds your face in his hand, and he kisses you.

It’s short and sweet, not as feverish as the first one you shared but it made you realize how quickly you had fallen victim to missing his kiss.

“I have wanted to do that for weeks now.” He states as if he read your mind, his eyes closed in bliss.

“Why’d it take you so long then?” You tease, kissing him again.

Yoongi smirks, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Does that mean you’re fonder of me?”

He watches you pull the seat belt over your torso before he responds, “Definitely, I was thinking about you last night before I went to bed.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“Mhm,” he hums, a hand moving over to rest on your knee while he backs out of the parking spot, “you’re very talented with your tongue, even in my dreams.”

You don’t respond, instead you look down at his hand on your knee with a blush.

The drive consists of soft music playing of the speakers of Yoongi’s 2003 Kia. A choice of car you wouldn’t expect him to drive but it oddly fits his personality. It’s quiet and gets him just where he needs to be, a simple thing that Yoongi tells you he takes pride in.

It isn’t a long drive, but you take the time to admire the way Yoongi looks as he drives. The windows are rolled down and soft summer air breezes throughout the car while you drive across the countryside. The evening sun shines across Yoongi’s face, those soft facial features that drew you in still prominent, his nose curling upward while he laughs at a joke you told.

“Alright,” he says after about 15 minutes, “we’re here.”

Yoongi parks near a beach, where you spot a group of people around a fire. You tilt your head, “Are we meeting your friends?”

“Yeah, I hope that’s okay. It’s just a small get together to celebrate a friend’s promotion.” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck and lets out a nervous chuckle.

You survey the crowd, cases of soju surrounding them while they laugh among each other. One of them seems to spot the car, waving at the two of you enthusiastically.

Butterflies swarm in your stomach as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth, “Sure, I’d love to meet your friends.”

Yoongi rushes to the other side of the car to open your door for you, wrapping his arm comfortingly around your shoulder while he leads you to the group.

A log was left empty that had just enough room for the two of you. As you approach, Yoongi calls out, “Shut up everybody! This is (Y/N), be nice to her. I like her a lot,” instantly everyone quiets down, and Yoongi points to the tallest first man, “That’s Namjoon, Seokjin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin.”

“Hyung, why’d you say my name last?” Jimin pouts, his voice already slightly slurred. You giggle, following Yoongi to the log.

Namjoon reaches over, sticking his hand out, “It’s nice to meet the girl that Yoongi’s mentioned.”

“Mentioned?” Jungkook scoffs, “He doesn’t shut up about you. You’re all he ever talks about and it takes a lot to get this man to stop talking about music.”

Yoongi leans over and smacks his friend on the arm, his cheeks turning red at his admission.

You giggle, “If it’s any consolation, I talk about Yoongi all the time too.”

“Ah great, they’re both crazy about each other.” Seokjin jokes, a laugh unlike you had ever heard falling from his lips. His laugh causes you to laugh, and you quickly cover your mouth once you realize what you did.

“Yah! She’s already making fun of my laugh!” Seokjin remarks, his bottom lip jutting outward cutely while Jimin shakes his head.

“Take this and shut up.” Jimin reaches a drink out to Seokjin, who laughs and sends a wink your way to ease your mind.

The night continues on gleefully, exchanging stories among each other and getting to know Yoongi’s friends - and Yoongi - more and more.

At one point you could tell that Yoongi’s friends were grilling you in an attempt to see if you were a bad person. They were quite bad at it, though, seeing as Jungkook asked if you had ever killed a man and Taehyung was hellbent on trying to get you to say you liked country music. Though, you did admit that Carrie Underwood had a few good songs. Taehyung took this as a win and threw his hands up in victory while Namjoon told him to settle down.

Now that you were more than a few drinks in, you listened intently to every story that the boys were telling.

"Just wait until you hear about Yoongi’s parenting diary for Holly.” Hoseok spills, laughing so hard that he leans into Jimin who sits beside him. Jimin eyes disappear behind his smile, and everyone begins to chuckle.

“No way!” you gape, turning to look at Yoongi who holds a beer tightly in his left and draws circles in your back with his right, “Min Yoongi, you never told me you were such a softy.”

“I’m not a softy, I’m mean and scary,” Yoongi retaliates loudly, then he leans closer to your ear and whispers, “and I bite.”

A chill runs down your spine and you immediately turn away, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to conceal your chill. Yoongi chuckles low enough for you to hear, his fingertips reaching beneath the base of your shirt and massaging gently. You didn’t realize how rough his fingertips were, callouses from hours of guitar playing evident on his hands.

“Alright, children. I think it’s time for us to head out.” Yoongi says suddenly, interrupting a conversation between Hoseok and Namjoon.

He stands and pulls you up with him. You smile and wave, “It was nice meeting you all.”

“It was nice meeting you too,” Namjoon waves back to you, “excited to have you back around.”

As you say goodbye to the rest and walk away, you hear a patter of footsteps walking behind the two of you. “Hyung! Can I get a ride?”

Jungkook stumbles towards the two of you, and Yoongi glances at you in question. You shrug, “I don’t mind, it’s your car.”

Yoongi waves Jungkook over, the three of you walking towards Yoongi’s small car. Yoongi opens the door for you, bowing gently and humming while he walks over to the drivers side. In the few short seconds that you and Jungkook were alone in the car, Jungkook leans forward and rests his head on the back of Yoongi’s seat.

“I haven’t seen Yoongi this happy in a while,” he pats your shoulder, “thank you.”

You don’t get the opportunity to respond as Yoongi opens the car door and hops in. You swallow, smiling and biting your lip. Your chest swells with the thought that Yoongi is just as affected by you as you are by him.

The drive is quite, but suddenly Jungkook speaks up.

“Is this yours, (Y/N)?”

You turn your head back and instantly your eyes widen, Jungkook glancing through your sketchpad. You spot the edge of your Yoongi drawing sticking out, Yoongi’s face visible but Jungkook had yet to spot it.

“Y- yeah.” you say, praying that he stops flipping through the pages. Yoongi glances over to you, his eyes just as wide as yours. He simply shakes his head as if to say ‘stop him’.

“These are really goo- oh! You drew Yoongi!” Jungkook’s fingers begin to pull at the piece of paper which causes you to unhook your seat belt and take the entire sketchbook out of Jungkook’s hands.

He seems lost for a second, “Can I see the Yoongi drawing?”

“No!” you and Yoongi respond simultaneously, panic lacing both of your voices while Yoongi pulls into an unfamiliar neighborhood.

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, “You two doing something freaky?”

Yoongi coughs, “I was just a model for (Y/N) to practice with.”

“A nude model?” Jungkook asks in a sing-song voice, noticing the way you glance at Yoongi.

“Cool it with the questions, Kookie.” Yoongi scolds gently.

��Hey, I don’t judge. I posed nude for a sculpting class once, those girls got to look at my bits for hours and I’m sure they enjoyed it as much as you enjoyed looking at Yoongi’s-”

“Wow would you look at that, we’re home! Get the fuck out of my car.” Yoongi turns around, gesturing for Jungkook to exit. Jungkook holds a smirk on his face, “Be safe.”

As soon as Jungkook gets out of the car, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Yoongi rests his head on the steering wheel, laughing quietly to himself in both embarrassment and joy.

“Why did you have that drawing in the sketchbook?” He questions as he reverses out of the driveway.

You shrug, “I don’t know... I just wanted to show you what I’ve been working on since that day.”

“Like what?”

“A self portrait.” you shrug, opening the sketchbook and flipping to the most recently filled in page. You hold it up so Yoongi can glance at it while he drives, but you didn’t expect his eyes to bulge out of his head while he slams on the breaks and pulls off to the side of the neighborhood road.

Instantly, he reaches and takes the book from you, his eyes scanning over the drawing repeatedly.

“Gorgeous,” he breathes, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

You smile gently, pointing your finger to your chest, “I drew my boobs more even than they actually are so I’m not that gorgeous.”

Yoongi’s eyes turn to slits, “Well this is tainted now. How will I ever be able to hang this up when it’s not accurate to the real thing?”

You giggle, pushing Yoongi’s shoulder gently. His joking tone diminishes once his eyes fall back on the drawing, the smile dropping from his face while his finger traces the curve of your hips. “Gorgeous...” he whispers again, “Fuck, I love this so much. Thank you.”

He leans across the center console and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.

That’s just not enough, though.

You slip the sketchpad out of his hands and close it, “You want to see the real thing?”

Your lack of touch from Yoongi these past couple weeks didn’t seem to bother you but now that you have him alone, you want to jump his bones.

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to nod, unhooking his seat belt and leaning his chair back a little bit. You grin, slipping the t-shirt over your head and pressing a harsh kiss against Yoongi’s lips. He welcomes your lips, drinking you in while his hands begin to roam your now bare skin. He slips his grip down to your thighs, pulling you over the center console and causing you straddle his thighs.

Not breaking the kiss, you begin to grind yourself down onto Yoongi’s quick-hardening cock. He moans into the kiss, his hands kneading your ass roughly. You gasp when you feel his hand lay a hard smack against your ass, the sound resonating throughout the car and causing Yoongi to smirk.

“Oh, you like being spanked?” he peppers kisses across your neck, “have you been a bad girl?”

“Mhm,” you moan, “I’m your bad girl.”

“That’s right,” Yoongi growls, spanking you once again, “my bad girl.”

You toss your head back when you feel Yoongi’s hips begin to twist beneath you, his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. You reach between the two of you, unzipping his jeans and threading his cock through the hole.

Yoongi sucks in a breath through his teeth while your small hand pumps him up and down carefully.

“No time,” Yoongi groans, “ride me.”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

The feeling of the slick between your legs was enough to show that you were ready, so Yoongi’s fingers push your panties to the side while he holds his cock and lines it up with your entrance. It doesn’t take long for him to slip inside, his hands gripping your hips and lifting you up and down while you moaned above him.

“You like my cock, don’t you baby? You’re gonna cum so good for me, aren’t you?” His voice is gruff, the encouraging tone causing your body to jolt with pleasure. You nod quickly, your mouth opening to respond but the only noise to leave your throat was a whisper of his name.

He feels the way your walls clamp down on him, leaning forward and nibbling across your breasts. “Fuck,” he curses while you speed your hips up, “your pussy feels so good around me.”

Yoongi’s words cause your orgasm to creep up on you, his name falling from your lips like a mantra as you pulsate around him. Yoongi bears his teeth as he cums, growling low and deep while his fingers grip your hips hard, sure to leave bruises but you didn’t mind.

You both sit for a moment while you catch your breath, Yoongi’s tongue licking a long stripe from your collarbones to your jawbone before he kisses your lips.

“Did so good for me,” he rubs soothing circles in your burning thighs, “was I vocal enough for you?”

You laugh, “Yes sir. Please keep it coming.”

You both wince as he lifts you off of him, falling into the passenger seat and sighing happily.

Your feet rest in his lap after the two of you are cleaned up, his hands gently massaging them while he tells you about a new song that he’s working on and how he hopes that someone will be interested.

It’s then that you realize that this is going to extend past the need for sex, because the two of you were both genuinely interested in each other’s lives. He speaks animatedly about his interests and listens intently to yours. It doesn’t take you long to begin imagining waking up beside him every morning with the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen.

As he drops you off at your apartment for the night, Yoongi walks you to your doorstep.You unlock the door and turn to give him a goodbye kiss but he stops you, grabbing your hand and stroking across your knuckles.

“So, do you think you’d be interested in being my girlfriend?” He asks nervously, “I- I wasn’t sure if you were just thinking of this as a friend with benefits situation so I figured I would ask before one of us gets hurt.”

You nearly coo at the man, watching the way his eyes dance across his feet.

You bring your arms around his neck and pull him down to your level, slamming a kiss onto his lips one more time. His hand grips the back of your shirt tightly, his tongue exploring your mouth while you lean against the wall. He pulls away with a grin, resting his forehead against yours.

“Is that a yes?”

You smile, “Of course.”

#min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader fluff #min yoongi x reader smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader fluff #yoongi x reader smut #bts #suga #suga x reader

315 notes · View notes

seacottons · 4 years ago

Text

uni!au with ateez — [ part one ]

—[ san - performing arts ]

ironically, you met when you helped him after a taller male shoved him down whilst in a heated argument.

he burst out laughing when you asked if he was okay.

“don’t worry, we’re just practicing our lines!”

you quickly glanced up at the building and grimaced once taking sight of the gleaming silver ‘performing arts building’ plaque.

of course.

to say you were embarrassed was only scratching the surface.

you had no regrets, because the incident was the catalyst that formed your friendship and eventual relationship.

will never let you live that moment down.

“remember when you tried to save me from mingi?”

“i thought we promised not to bring that up again-”

“why can’t i? i was saved by an angel that day?”

san invites you to both his dance and theatre shows.

will appear to be very professional on stage, but you catch his eyes frantically darting to the crowd to try and spot you.

and once he does, he will repeatedly smile and wink in your direction.

you’re always early, so you manage to snag a seat in either front two rows.

likes when you bring him bouquets as a congratulation gift after his performances.

gets very loud backstage just to let everyone know you bought him a gift.

a huge show-off.

is very good at facial expressions.

you fall for every time he pretends he’s crying or hurt when you don’t give him attention.

he will imitate different characters and repeat after actors while you two watch movies together.

“it sounded sexier when i said it, right (y/n)?”

is a very clingy cuddle bug.

and a leech.

will always have his arms around you while walking at campus.

loves to give you back hugs.

is the type to wait outside for you until you finish class.

and takes you to the cafeteria afterwards for lunch.

embarrasses you in said cafeteria by spinning the lunch tray while waiting in line.

also likes to spin your phone just to freak you out.

also the type to excitedly text you about the donuts and coffee they’re giving away at the library’s breezeway.

likes to refer to you as ‘angel’.

will beg you join the different clubs he’s in.

and then brag about you to the others once you do.

will hype your choice of attire even if he’s already seen you earlier that day.

the type to also sneak you a latte in the middle of your class.

also the type to sneak in with you during your auditorium classes.

you regret it sometimes because he leaves no room for you to pay attention to your professor.

often times, so much so that you have to lightly pinch his side in protest.

“do you want me to fail this class?”

he likes to participate in the many events held at campus.

everyone knows him.

challenges you to dance offs in the middle of campus.

you refuse and push forward a startled mingi instead.

“mingi wants to have a turn this time!”

also likes to lay in your arms whilst you play with his hair.

“were you a cat in your previous life?”

he will then proceed to meow in your ear.

“i’ll take that as a yes.”

—[ hongjoong - fashion design ]

dating him would consist of always admiring his new projects.

supplying him with unhealthy amounts of coffee.

trying out new pieces he made.

offering to carry his overly large portfolio binder sometimes.

sitting down and listening to him rant about how his roomates fail to wash clothes properly.

he has a guide taped to the washing machine with the different symbols of clothing labels.

“no, san, you can’t use shampoo as detergent.”

“but seonghwa finished all the detergent!”

using seonghwa’s lint rollers to remove all the fabric fibers stuck on hongjoong’s clothes.

you scold him while cleaning the bleeding scratches on his fingers from his sewing needles and pins.

“don’t worry, it’s nothing i can’t handle.”

“but i don’t like seeing you get hurt, you bum.”

you bought him strawberry bandaids because he thought they were cute.

sometimes, when he has time, he’ll custom make clothes just for you.

he insists on having multiple matching outfits.

will ask you to model his work for his social media page.

thinks you look best in skirts.

you’ll be the source of comfort during presentation week.

he’ll be a wreck whilst making a new collection.

but you’re always there to pick him back up.

most of the time, you’re the source of his inspiration as well.

you insist he shouldn’t sit for hours writing essays or sketching numerous ideas for future work.

but he’s stubborn as a mule.

nights with him include binge watching fashion shows or cute cartoons.

or painting your nails.

you both enjoy coffee dates when you have time.

he tells you he wants to open a fashion line one day.

you’re trying to stand still as he plucks numerous pins into the dress you’re trying on.

“what do you think i should call it?”

“hj couture? does that sound too basic?”

he pauses momentarily before spooling the leftover red thread.

“(y/n). i’ll call the line (y/n).”

—[ wooyoung - culinary arts ]

invites you to his dorm and cooks for you.

his apartment always smells of warm spices and comforting meals.

pretends his roommates’ teasing doesn’t affect him, but the tips of ears always glow red.

will always bring over leftovers he made in class.

“i just thought you wanted to try this mille feuille.”

“which one is better? the salted rosemary loaf or the oregano and olive oil one?”

loves to bake and cook with you.

will make your birthday cake from scratch and will go all out decorating it.

has an annoying habit of taking pictures of you mid-bite.

“delete that right now.”

“but babe, you look so cute.”

“jung wooyoung!”

will wrestle with you as you attempt to take his phone away.

“okay, look! i swear i’ll delete it!”

he saves it in a hidden folder.

calls you his ‘cupcake’ or ‘sugarplum’.

teases you nonstop when you fail at something in the kitchen.

“babe! no! gentle folds! you pulverized those poor blueberries!”

“but the instructions say to mix!”

“the dough isn’t supposed to be blue!”

he’ll whine nonstop about how much he hates baking bread in class.

“do you know how abnoxiously long the fermentation process is!? i’m losing my mind.”

will wave and yell your name to catch your attention if he spots you nearby at campus.

you hear him every time.

he’s just that loud.

drags you to new restaurants just so you can rate them with him.

also drags you to go cutlery shopping.

accidentally dropped a plate in the store.

and when the employee came sauntering in the aisle suspiciously-

“(y/n) did it.”

once gave you food poisoning by accident.

you never wanted to eat scallops again.

you don’t mind his hands smelling like garlic or ginger most of the time.

or stained with spices.

“turmeric is a bitch.”

“woo, who wears white while cooking with turmeric anyway?”

will show off and brag about his knife skills.

demands to race with you to see who can chop the vegetables the quickest.

“you’re going down, (y/n).”

“uh- i don’t think i ever stood a chance to begin with.”

he lets you win sometimes though.

will beg you to visit him at his part time job at the cute cafe not too far by.

you always try to when you have the time.

and when he finds out you went to the rival cafe across the street one day..

“on a scale of 10 to 10, how bad is kang yeosang’s cooking?”

“what?”

“answer the question, (y/n).”

“woo, it’s 3 a.m.”

the next day, you explained that you were merely invited by your classmates to that particular cafe because one of them was a former employee there.

he childishly ignored you with crossed arms and a subtle pout.

“your jajangmyeon is much better. they didn’t even like the food there!”

he finally perks up with a large smile.

“wait, really?”

you think he looks endearing with his apron and chef’s hat.

will post cheesy captioned pictures of you after serving you delicately decorated plates of food.

‘two delicious meals for tonight, hehe.’

“gross. did you really have to say that?”

—[ jongho - kinesiology ]

you met him at the university gym and instantly clicked.

found yourself months later agreeing to go out with him.

a giant goofball.

sometimes makes faces at you while you exercise across the gym.

makes sure you watch him when he deadlifts.

loves when you hype him up.

opens all the jars for you.

and cuts all the fruit for you.

“why use a knife when you have my hands, love?”

you nearly choked on your saliva when he punched open the watermelon.

“can we ever just have a perfectly sliced watermelon!?”

“no- unless i break my arm one day.”

insists you jog with him around campus early in the morning.

likes to practice wrapping elastic tape on you.

you own half of his hoodies.

takes you to watch basketball matches.

then challenges you to a match when you go on dates to the park.

will persistently tease you about your poor aim.

and will absolutely not let you have the ball for more than a few seconds.

“stop cheating!”

“i’m not cheating! you just suck!”

joined you in some of your elective classes.

will also wear sleeveless shirts because he knows how flustered you get while his sculpted muscles are on display.

“what did professor kim just say?”

“what?” you tore your gaze from his biceps to glance at his face.

“are you staring at my arms again?” he snickers.

“no,” you say too quickly, face heating quite considerably.

despite his teasing, he’ll always baby you and take care of your needs.

has the cutest gummy smile.

you like to call him your gummy bear.

he hated the name at first, but grew to accept it over time.

likes to randomly pick you up.

sometimes will throw you over his shoulder.

has a habit of patting your thighs.

sometimes asks you to sit on his back while he does push-ups.

your eye bulged at the sight of a mop of ruby hair.

“don’t say anything.”

“you like apples so much you dyed your hair red?”

“i lost a bet.”

“you look cute though.”

you tugged at his tresses, smiling as you admired the shade against his tanned skin.

“baby?” you brushed his bangs away to display his forehead.

“hm?”

“you’re the apple of my eye.”

“i’m-,” he sucked on his teeth and pursed his lips, face scrunching in a mock grimace, “i’m going to throw up.”

403 notes · View notes

icollectyoursins · 4 years ago

Text

Kishibe Rohan x Reader SFW + NSFW

Anon said: “Consider Rohan sfw and nsfw hcs? And in nsfw Rohan could be a top,,? Prrtty pleade hhh, since there is only one work of Rohan ;;”

I hope these are good, not too familiar with Rohan, so I hope you like it!

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Making out, stands used in inappropriate ways, fingering, voyeurism, dildos, fucking machines, spanking, hand jobs, blow jobs, oral, face fucking, cock warming, nipple play, nude modelling.

Word Counts: 2201

SFW

Rohan is a jackass who cares. In the beginning, he’s very private and stand-offish, but he does warm up to you eventually, though he’s still nicer in private than he is in public. He claims this is because he’s a “celebrity” and can’t have his fans see you too close together yada, yada. It’s bullshit and you know it, but you have the feeling it’s because he’s not used to people being close to him.

Yes, he does have a binder dedicated to paintings, drawings, sketches, etc. all for you. Some are a little on the artistically lewd side, but most of them are of your hands holding something or your smile, your face and shoulders. Some of them he asked you to model for, others he quickly sketched down while you weren’t paying attention and then finished later.

When he’s not holed up inside, he enjoys walking down to either parts of Morioh where he can people watch or down to the park where he can study wildlife (and maybe draw you playing with ducks).

You are literally never bored in his house. He has every book under the earth and so many loose painting supplies that he painfully lets you use to fool around. (Though let’s be honest, He likes that you take an interest in his job and would be more than happy to give you tips.)

You know what? Rohan is a backseat artist. He watches every stroke you make over your shoulder and tells you maybe you should move the hand this way to make it more natural or add some light shading here to make it dynamic. It may come off as a little pretentious at first, but if you keep with it, he’ll notice the improvement and (occasionally) tell you how good you’re doing while being a total blushing mess.

You sat in the window seat, knees up with your back against the wall. Resting on your thighs was a sketchbook. Currently, you were just idly drawing lines of shading onto a face. Rohan himself was also busy colouring in his most recent page, though every now and then he would catch himself looking up at your silhouette, lit up by the light in some kind of halo effect.

Finally, he caved in to his curiosity. Setting down his pencils, he strode over to you. You didn’t notice until his face manifested itself over your shoulder. Startled, you jumped, causing your pencil to make a long line on your artwork.

“Jesus, warn me next time.” You said, grabbing your eraser.

“Have you been struggling with the nose?” He completely ignores you, still staring at your drawing. The paper was clearly marked up by the eraser with deeper marks from where the pencil was.

“Yeah, actually. It’s either too big or too small. Kind of just gave up.” You carefully tried to erase the long line but wound up taking away parts that you were actually happy with.

“Be more gentle with the pencil, it’ll make it easier to erase.” He suggested with a monotone.

“I tried-”

“And then you got frustrated and pushed harder. I admire your persistence, however, if something isn’t to your liking, walk away and come back. Remember to look at the picture as a whole, not just the nose.” You rolled your eyes, gently tossing your pencil onto the window seat. As much as you wanted to appreciate the advice, you had heard it all before. You were getting sick of it, frankly.

Rohan took note of your agitation, studying your face carefully. “You’ve improved, though!” You looked up, a little shocked. What? “The eyes are well done and your shading is very even. Good job.”

What? Your cheeks grew hot. That was the first bit of praise you had heard from him. About your drawing, at least. He looked down into your eyes, then felt his own face getting hot. He turned away. “Go take a break. I’ll help you when you get back in an hour. I’ll be timing you, don’t be late.”

Like I have said, he’s not overly fond of affection in public (in the beginning), but he can’t deny that holding your hand or feeling you on his arm makes him feel pretty good. The first few times, he’s internally a mess, though he won’t show anything other than a light tint of blush on his cheeks. But when he’s relaxing at home, he enjoys having you under his arm, leaning against him or with one of your heads in the other’s lap. He’s not used to people and even less so used to affection, but can be worked up to being more comfortable with stuff like kissing in front of the Morioh gang and the like.

When he’s comfortable, he is so cocky. Like, boarder line makes out with you in front of literally anyone just to prove you’re his S/O. This always makes you blush so much (unless you’re into that.) More often than not, he’ll have an arm around your shoulders, hand in pocket, looking so smug and proud and cool.

Pet names? He can either go one of two ways, depending on his mood. Either it’s just your name or babe OR it is every teasing name under the sun. Oh, darling can you do this for me? Oh, baby, oh, honey, oh, my love, oh, my flower. It’s usually used to get something from you or to get you to do something a little out of the box.

I can see Rohan as being the kind of person who is very strict about his bath time and hates when people interrupt him. On the rare occasion, he’ll let you in with him with the promise of either massaging him or something else *wink, wink*

NSFW (Dominant specifically)

Rohan literally does not shut up during sex. Praise, degradation, mocking, you name it! As a writer and an artist, he knows how to stitch words together in a masterful way that never fails to make you hot in the face.

Uh, yeah. He’s used Heaven’s Door on you before. Did he do it to learn your kinks? Maybe to put some kind of loose control over you in certain situations? Looking for people you find attractive for potential erm... art inspiration (voyeurism)? The world will never know.

Staying-on brand with HD, he absolutely uses it to learn everything that you enjoy in the bedroom. He knows how to make you squirm, where to push to make you scream, how to make you beg. He knows everything.

Particularly enjoys using this “power” to finger you, pressing into every sweet spot (that he made more sensitive with HD), licking over the edges of your hole in a way that just makes you dumb (either hole, not picky!)

A delicate finger was trailed up your twitching hole, making you shiver. Rohan had already stretched you open enough for it to easily slip in again. You were so sensitive from being teased over and over again, but with no relief that you cried out, tears threatening to burst forward.

He curled his finger up into a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves, slowly pushing into it more. You groaned and whined, blabbering out his name along with various ways to beg. He shushed you carelessly, sounding annoyed by your desperation. God, you wish you could move! You would give anything to be impaled by him right now. Or anything for that matter.

He removed the digit quickly, then promptly smacked your ass with a flat hand.

“Quiet.” You had no choice but to listen to him, involuntarily shutting your mouth and stifling your whimpers. “If you want something, be polite about it. Do you know how to be polite?”

You nodded your head, a single tear trailed down your cheek. Your hole was teased again, repeating the same process as before. Rohan was such an asshole, but god if you didn’t love it.

If you have established a relationship where he has complete control over everything you say or do, he will abuse it so much. Just, tells you to sit still, turns on a wand or vibrator and just tortures you to the point of tears. You can talk, he didn’t take that away (mostly because he wants to hear you beg), but the position he put you in on top of the order. It’s too much for you.

He’ll do the same with a dildo, a fucking machine, his own dick, does not matter! Once you give him that power, RIP to your organs.

Alright, now. Voyeurism. This man is a freak and does not try to hide it when it’s under the guise of “art.” Again, if established, he will hire random people to do whatever he wants to you. If you’re okay with it, he’ll record it for later research.

Rohan is a weird jealous type, so he checks out every person you meet and makes sure they’re perfect (ie. not competition and someone you’ll enjoy). Very rarely does he let you pick out the people. Like I said, he’s a weird jealous type. Likes to see you with other people, but not with other people, you know?

There is only one person who he considers competition that he wants you to fuck at least once and it’s Jotaro. Are we surprised? No. Dude is built like a god and has the goods to match. Even Rohan can’t deny it. He would probably want to join in as well, but Jotaro would never do anything like that.

Mmmm, punishments for being bratty? Ooooh, yes. Smack my ass like a drum! Makes you count, absolutely. If he’s in a bitchy, lazy mood he’ll use a paddle or something like that, other than that, he uses his hands.

As you’ve probably surmised, he likes having control over you in the bedroom, so it’s no surprise he also enjoys tying you up and has a particular fondness for swings where he’ll hang you up and tease you until you can barely walk.

I mentioned baths in the SFW section, now let me elaborate. Doesn’t like sex in the bath, he hates when the water gets everywhere, but loves when you worship him while scrubbing him down and will allow you to work him up with a light hand job. This usually leads to a blowjob of some kind whether it’s gentle or rough.

Speaking of! His favourite part of sex is probably oral. From sucking bruises into each other’s necks, rough kissing, right down to holding you against the wall and choking you with his dick. Or a dildo, if he wants something a little more adventurous like mirror sex with him taking you from behind and making you watch yourself choke over and over again.

Cock warming is only ever used as punishment for being too needy, but he will keep you in his lap until you’re in tears. He is absurdly patient when it comes to sex.

You whined, grinding yourself onto Rohan’s dick. He chuckled before letting out a theatrical sigh. Your grip on his shoulders got harder and you buried your face into his neck more.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He trailed a soft, teasing hand up your thigh. “You wanted attention, yes? Then, why are you complaining? Now, up, I need another look at my reference.”

You sighed, tired and riled up at the same time. With new vigour, you sat up, leaning back to show your artist his latest obsession. He hummed in appreciation, taking a minute to admire his muse before licking a warm stripe up your sternum making you gasp. He stopped, giving you a look of warning.

“Don’t move.” You gave him a curt nod, trying your best to follow your command while he returned his tongue to your chest, exploring your skin’s taste. He flicked over your nipple with the tip, testing your resolve before wrapping his lips around it, sucking harshly. A moan fought its way through your throat as he became more feverous with his suckling.

Rohan hummed with you, theatrically mulling over the saltiness, then switching to the next one. Satisfied with the redness around your nipples, he pulls back, looking you over once again. A lightbulb seems to go off in his head and he reaches for his sketchbook which only made his cock shift inside you, rubbing against your walls in a delightfully painful way.

“Rohan-sensei,” you moaned out. Admittedly, you didn’t like calling him that, but he insisted you call him sensei during times like this.

“Stop moving, you’re ruining the picture,” he chided. “Go back to the way you were, darling.” He leaned back, rolling his hips into you to punctuate his words as well as tease you.

Model nude for him. Whether you like it or not, he will ask you to do it and, if he’s in a sexy mood, you will be asked to do uncomfortable positions that will definitely leave you sore the next day. “It highlights how the muscles work for a new character I’m drawing” or so he says. Other than that, he’ll just let you pick somewhere comfortable and sexy to lie down.

#kishibe rohan not sfw #kishibe rohan n/s/f/w #rohan kishibe n/sfw #rohan n/sfw #rohan not sfw #rohan n/s/f/w #kishibe rohan x reader #kishibe rohan x reader n/sfw #kishibe rohan x reader not sfw #kishibe rohan x reader n/s/f/w #rohan prompts #not sfw #sfw

120 notes · View notes

pterodactylterrace · 4 years ago

Text

Guys Like You Chapter 6

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 6

Chapter Summary: More of a filler chapter, not much Henry, I’m sorry.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, pregnancy, poor self image, bad coping mechanisms, low self esteem.

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5}

"I already told you, Faye! I don't want anything to do with this!"

"So because I want to keep my babies, you're leaving me? Is that what you're trying to tell me, David?"

"Yes! Shit, I knew you were dumb, but seriously!"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you deaf too, whore? How do you even know I'm the one that knocked you up? You've slept with just about every guy in town!"

"Get the fuck out."

"Don't come crying to me later! You're nothing without me! No one is ever going to want you. Especially once you have kids. Who the hell wants used goods? Have fun living a life of regret!"

Faye jerked awake, her head spinning as she tried to catch her bearings. Did David really leave her just like that? Sure he wasn't the greatest, but he had never lashed out like that before. At least not where anyone else could witness it.

No. David's gone. He has been gone for almost four years now. New life. Starting over. It's all in the past now.

Have to get the baby up before the sitter comes. Work is coming up soon. Life goes on.

"Briar, what are you doing on the floor?" Faye chuckled, crouching down next to her daughter, curled up on her pillow by her bed.

"I'm a puppy." Briar yawned in explanation, holding her arms up to be lifted, promptly licking her mother's cheek as soon as she was up.

"Briar, we talked about licking people."

"I'm not Briar, I'm puppy."

"Ok then, puppy, no licking people. Now what do you want for breakfast?"

"Puppy food."

"Cereal it is."

Feed the toddler, quick shower, get dressed, throw her hair up away from her face, wait for the baby sitter, hugs and kisses goodbye, then off to work. The usual routine she had settled herself into.

Feed the baby, because she's hungry and she comes first.

Shower, because she probably has some sort of mystery goo on her from the toddler.

Get dressed, avoid the mirror. No one wants to be reminded of how much they've changed. The softness she wasn't used to around her lower stomach, hips and thighs. Her breasts no longer as perky as they used to be. The stretchmarks competing with her tattoo's for attention.

Then, the hardest part of the day. "Ok, Briar, Mrs. Anderson is here. Mommy has to go to work. I love you."

"I love you too, Mommy." Briar responded, hugging her mother tight and kissing her cheek before she was sat back down.

"Have a nice day, Miss Warren."

"I hope she's not too much to handle."

"Never is."

Some days, Faye likes to pretend she's ok. Like she has a handle on things. Like she knows what she's doing and not just blindly stumbling through her life while trying to do right by her daughter.

Other days, she would absently push her sleeves up and her eye would catch on the black lines decorating her forearm, just below her elbow. Some days she's reminded that life is a bitch, and you can't always get what you want. On those days she tried to stay out of her own head, though that rarely worked.

She could slap on a smile with the best of them, but she could never force it to reach her eyes. Her face always remained an open book, free for anyone to read. The past creeps up on you. There's nothing you can do to stop it some days. On a bad day, the ghosts of the past will haunt your mind, echoing the worst days of your life into the void of your shattered heart.

"No one is ever going to want you!"

"You're nothing without me!"

"Who wants used goods?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Warren. There was nothing we could do."

Over and over on a seemingly never ending loop, reminding her of the darkest times in her life.

Why would anyone want her? She's not the same hot twenty six year old she used to be. She was soft. She was saggy. She would never be as attractive as she used to be. Anyone in their right mind would turn around and run once they realized how much she had let herself go.

Days like today were best spent keeping people at a distance. Tell them some story about being tired. Avoid anyone that is going to call her out on her obvious lie. Therein lies the problem with dying your hair obnoxious colors. Among a sea of blonde and brunette, powder blue tends to stick out and make it almost impossible to vanish.

Lie your way out of it. Survive another day. Tomorrow might not be better, but at least it won't be the same.

"Mommy, you're back!" The sweetest sound she could hear all day.

"I always come back, my little love." Faye assured, kissing her daughter's head.

Need to care for the baby. She comes first. She deserves the world. Play time. Dinner time. Bath time. Story time. Bed time. The same after work routine she had established months ago when she decided to drop everything and run.

Her daughter thought the world of her. She would do anything to see her smile. She would wear the stupid costume. She would pretend to be a horsey. She would let her daughter use her as a jungle gym. She would make the same dinner again for the third night in a row for her. So what if she soaked the bathroom floor during bath time? She was a mermaid, and she wanted to show off her tail. Story time, always an adventure with her imaginative little girl. What world would they find themselves in today? Dinosaurs? Princesses? Mythology? A rhyming book?

Ah, yes of course. Her current favorite, the book about the dinosaur cleaning his room. She was a girl obsessed with dinosaurs at the moment.

"Mommy, where's my Papa?" Briar asked, staring intently down at the page depicting a mother and father watching the dinosaur throw away paper scraps.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart. He wasn't a nice man." Faye explained, resting her cheek on her daughter's head.

"Can I have a new Papa?"

"Maybe someday, sweetheart."

"Can Spider-man be my new Papa?"

"Why do you want Spider-man to be your new Papa?"

"He's my boyfriend!"

"That's not how it works, silly. If he's your boyfriend, he can't also be by boyfriend! Pick another hero!"

"Batman!"

"Well, he is rich." Faye mused, Briar giggling happily. "Now it's time for bed, my love."

"Ok, Mommy. I love you!"

"I love you too, Briar." Faye whispered, kissing her forehead. The nightlight was switched on and the door was left cracked open, just in case. Now for her seldom used free time.

Should she sketch some more? Finish that painting she started forever ago? Ever since she started a "real" job, her art had fallen by the wayside. She was too drained to do much after work and caring of her daughter.

Maybe some drawing will lift her spirits and keep the nightmares at bay tonight. But what to draw? Not in the mood for still life. Brain too fried for something straight from her imagination. Her usual model was sleeping, and her last few self portraits had been a serious blow to her ego. She just drew what she saw in the mirror. Then, when she was finished, she decided she should have worn more clothing before she drew herself. What was supposed to boost her confidence and empower her as a woman instead left her wondering when exactly she developed that roll when sitting in that position.

"Fuck it. I'm drawing a moose." Faye grumbled to herself, turning the page from her self portrait to a blank sheet. Half an hour later when she was trying to remember what a moose's antlers looked like, she finally picked up her phone. Seven unread messages? That seems like a lot. When was the last time she looked at her phone? Oh yeah, when she got home, five hours ago.

All from one person. So she wasn't ignoring everyone at least. Seven messages, all from Henry. Shit. That's not good.

Are you ok?

You seemed off on set today

You didn't even talk to me

Did you at least make it home alright?

Can you send me a sign of life?

I'm sorry if I upset you or something. Can you please talk to me? I'm genuinely worried.

Please?

Well, fuck. Here she was playing unicorn apocalypse with her daughter, and this poor guy was worrying himself to death.

Sorry, I was drawing a moose

Perfect way of saying "I wasn't ignoring you" while also avoiding his persistent questions about her wellbeing. The good old 'drawing a moose' excuse. Works every time.

I think your moose aged me by ten years. Are you ok?

Just had a bad day

Anything I can do to help?

Squeeze me until I stop struggling and my spine snaps

That's called 'murder' Miss Warren

I knew there was a name for it

Is there anything I can do for you that involves less prison?

Nah, if you're not going to take me out, then I'm not interested

I'm not going to take you out by murder. I will take you out on a date.

Faye froze, staring at her phone. He was just playing around, like he always did. No way he was serious. Henry liked to flirt, and she wasn't about to throw herself at him over a joke. She had more dignity than that. So how does she respond? She can't just ignore him, and taking forever to respond is going to give the impression that she was freaking out over what he said.

She was completely freaking out over what he had said, but he didn't need to know that. Was he just looking to get laid or something? Probably. He had gotten pretty close the last time he had been over. There's a difference between dating and screwing, though. He was probably just looking for someone to fuck while waiting for a woman worth his time to come along. Faye was broken out of her thoughts by her phone going off again, alerting her to a new message. Didn't he know she was busy having an existential crisis?

If you're free on Sunday you can come over and show me that moose your working on

*you're

Smart ass

Sunday?

I'll have to see if Mrs. Anderson can watch Briar

Bring her along. She keeps asking me about Kal

Pretty on brand for her

Sunday?

Sunday.

Sunday. What to wear on Sunday? He was probably looking for a little something something for his time, so something slutty? She got rid of all her slutty clothes after she had Briar in a fit of self hatred toward her new mom bod, so that was out. Besides, he wouldn't have invited Briar over too if he was looking to get laid.

So what does one wear on a casual 'date' these days? She had until Sunday to figure that out.

Tag List: @Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #guys like you #guys like you fic #triggering themes

71 notes · View notes

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 15

First

Ladybug woke up the next morning to her phone going off like an alarm. She groaned and slowly reached to her bedside table, gently nudging away fabrics in search of her phone. She found it, eventually, and tapped her finger on the screen repeatedly in search of the snooze button, but it didn’t seem to be working.

She grumbled to herself, snatching the phone off the table and looking to turn it off…

Only to realize that it was a good hour before she’d set her alarm to go off for her meeting with Audrey Bourgeois. She rubbed her eyes tiredly as she watched another round of notifications come in.

Ugh. That’s what she gets for turning her ringer on at night in case her friends had nightmares. She silenced her phone and fell back in her bed.

After ten minutes of staring at the ceiling and attempting to trick her brain into thinking she was asleep, she reluctantly pushed herself out of her bed. Phone in hand and blanket around her shoulders, she shuffled downstairs for a cup of coffee.

She waved to Chloe absently when she saw her in the kitchen making a bowl of cereal and got a hum in response. That was their entire conversation, though. Chloe always seemed to know when exactly it was a good time to tease her or not without Ladybug ever saying a word.

Maybe she should have figured out that Chloe was some kind of minor telepath.

Whatever.

She scrolled through her phone as she waited for her pot of coffee to finish.

The Parisians on TikTok were going wild.

There was a group freaking out about Chat’s account (because it was cute, but also because he might actually be a dog person considering that was the first thing he’d uploaded). Carapace’s video was full of comments analyzing their group dynamic or pitying the people who had been on shift at the time. Rena’s account had thousands of people screaming about having actual information on the miraculous holder’s daily lives for once and people attempting to use the footage to figure out where they were living. Chloe’s video had people speculating on what she would be doing or commenting on their day-to-day outfits.

And Ladybug’s…

It was full of people saying things along the lines of “of course Ladybug would have a lifestyle account”.

Part of her was kind of offended. Sure, her persona was definitely different than her and if she knew a person like ‘Ladybug’ in real life she probably wouldn’t be all that close to them, she’d made it that way on purpose… but still. It kind of hurt.

Then again, there was another part of her that was tempted to sing. Her ruse was working! She had accurately guessed what would be in character for her persona! Nice!

She poured herself a cup of her quickly cooling coffee and headed up to get properly dressed for the day.

Ladybug couldn’t help but be a little anxious as she changed from her red and black pajamas into a completely different red and black ensemble. Her mind wandered to all the messages she was getting about how consistent her persona was.

If she didn’t give her persona any kind of depth, how long would people keep falling for it?

She didn’t know. She was out the door in minutes and heading off to the park where Audrey had wanted to meet, the prototype of the dress she’d made for a ball in the United States in her hands. She had to remind herself constantly that, even if the stuff she’d used for the prototype was just there to simulate the real thing and wasn’t all that expensive, she still needed everything to be intact when she gave it to Audrey.

She was a little distracted during the meeting, her mind on what to do about her persona, so it was a good thing that Audrey’s only complaint was that the prototype fabric was a little coarse. That could be fixed.

The persona thing…? Not so much.

Rena was already suspicious, Ladybug could see it in the way her eyes narrowed ever so slightly whenever she let little things slip through.

(Thanks for telling her that everyone has personas, Carapace, now she had to be even more careful.)

She forced herself to relax. There wasn’t anything to gain from worrying about people figuring out just how fake she was outside of a possible akumatization.

No. Instead she would concentrate on something she could fix: Hawkmoth. If she figured out his identity they could beat him, and then she would never have to worry about personas ever again.

The moment she got home she walked over to the conspiracy board. She glared at the millions of closeups of every part of Hawkmoth’s body.

~Want to skip some calculations? Here’s your chance! I nerded out a little, sorry~

Hawkmoth was about 230cm tall in costume. That’s what Rena had found out through calculating his height in comparison to some of Nino’s plates in the photo, but Ladybug had (stupidly) offered to do the math to see how tall he would be without the miraculous stuff...

She knew the man’s shoes gave him a little extra height than most normal shoes would; she’d seen them up close, they were practically heels.

She spent literal hours sitting down with her computer at the kitchen table, a cold look on her face.

(Thank the kwamis for Chloe, because every time someone came near she would quickly come up to play interference. Ladybug didn’t know if she was doing this for their sake or hers, but either way it was appreciated.)

She scrolled through page after page of shoes, trying to find a model that looked close to the fashion disaster Hawkmoth was wearing.

Did she have a theory for the type of shoe they were? Yes. Was she going to just go with that? Of course not. She was Ladybug! Ladybug doesn’t GUESS --!

Maybe she’d been pretending to be Ladybug for too long. She made a mental note to go out with friends as a civilian sometime.

Still, it took until midnight to find a model that was similar enough for her to feel comfortable using it as a base. She printed out the picture and put it beside the picture of Hawkmoth’s shoes and nodded to herself. Great. His shoes added about 3 centimeters to his height.

Now onto the next part of height calculations.

Miraculi gave everyone extra height.

She didn’t know for sure if it was a flat rate or proportional, so she went out on the town, looking for some kind of measuring tape -- the type she used for work wasn’t long enough for a person’s actual height. She managed to find a place unfortunate enough to be open past midnight and she and the person checking out her item shared ‘I wish I was dead’ expressions.

It was here that she dragged everyone out of bed to measure their heights as civilians versus as heroes (without shoes, obviously).

They were clearly very annoyed by this, but it was nearing three o’clock at this point and she had spent an entire day looking at shoes. The look on her face was absolutely murderous. They opted to just quietly do what she said so they could go back to sleep as soon as possible.

5 centimeters. Everyone grew by 5 centimeters.

She wasn’t quite sure why this happened, nor did she really care. It was just important for her calculations.

~Calculations over~

So he was anywhere from 215 to 225 centimeters. Unreasonably tall, really. There could only be a few people of that height in Paris.

After doing some searching she figured out that there were probably about 5 people in all of Paris that were that height.

She just had to… find them? Somehow?

Whatever. She should also do some quick things to distinguish Hawkmoth from the others. She grabbed an extra sheet of printer paper and started writing things down.

A semi-muscular build, possibly bald, stupidhead, terrible fashion sense...

She fell back on the couch for a quick breather.

She was getting a headache. What was it from? The caffeine? Dehydration? Was she clenching her teeth? Who knows.

Ladybug pulled her phone out and checked the time…

Four-thirty.

She had time to finish that sketch for Jagged Stone before their eight o’clock appointment. It would be close, though.

She changed while she waited for her coffee to brew (How many pots had she had since yesterday? Four? Five? Whatever, it was probably fine) and then got to work.

She looked up a while later when Chloe walked down for breakfast. It was seven now, then. She would need to leave soon…

“Kwami, Ladybug, you look awful!”

“Thanks,” she said, her eyes falling back to the sketch. It didn’t have enough… yeah, that was the end of the sentence. It was too plain, but she couldn’t seem to --.

She felt hands rest over her cheeks and she looked up to see Chloe standing over her. “You need to sleep.”

“I need to get to an appointment.”

“I WILL use Sticky Situation if I have to.”

Ladybug wasn’t impressed.

“Pollen, buzz on.”

Ladybug blinked at the miraculous holder in front of her and then gasped. Of course! She’d forgotten accessories! No wonder it felt empty!

Kwami, she really was tired, huh?

She put some quick accessories down, careful to make all the items kind of tiny so Jagged wouldn’t be able to tell the ideas weren’t fully fleshed out yet, and then smiled at Chloe as she got up to leave. “Thanks, Queenie. I gotta go, I’ll sleep later.”

“But --!”

She was already gone.

The meeting went well. Yay. She kept her job.

She walked home, happy to just be done with that really long day --.

She randomly chanced a look in the window as she passed and winced when she saw Chloe waiting for her on the couch. She was far too tired to deal with a lecture. She transformed and flew into her room through the window.

… now what? Should she sleep?

Nah. She had patrols that night. Might as well just stay up through it all.

She yawned into her hand and headed down to Rena’s room. She might as well tell her what she’d figured out.

She knocked her head against the wooden door instead of her fist in an attempt to wake herself up a little and smiled when it opened.

“You look…”

“I’ve been told. Anyways, I’ve finished doing math and stuff. Come look.”

Ladybug grabbed Rena’s arm before the other could even say anything and pulled her down to the kitchen where she’d done the calculations.

Rena looked over everything for a few moments before her eyes widened.

“... hey, quick question, why does it say he has a ‘condom-head’?”

That got Ladybug awake. Her eyes found their way to the list of attributes she’d written while sleep-deprived.

Her eyes went wide with horror.

Because there, in handwriting that was definitely hers, were the words ‘stupid-looking condom-head’.

Fuck.

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0 @ladybug-182 @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write

#a miraculous tiktok account #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #chloe bourgeois #queen bee #rena rouge #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #carapace #chat noir #adrien agreste #miraculous team #miraculous fic #ml fic #chloenette #chlonette #adrino

59 notes · View notes

ace-in-a-shopping-cart · 4 years ago

Text

Day 22

Prompt: When you close your own eyes, you can see what your soulmate sees.

Word Count: 1,388

Main Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01, @spoopy-turtle, @lizluvscupcakes, @more-fandon-than-friends, @i-cant-find-a-good-username, @vindicatedvirgil, @star-crossed-shipper, @justaqueercactus, @gayboopnoodle, @sanderssidesweirdo, @the-sympathetic-villain, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart, @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun, sirprplsnail

Soulmate taglist:(Send an ask to be added or removed!) @elizabutgayer, @melodiread, @tsshipmonth2020, @mikalya12, @8-writes, @lizzy-lineart

CW: kidnapping, food, allusions to police, minor injuries.

Virgil closed his eyes tighter, still seeing nothing but black. “Come on, come on! Come on, dear, you can do this!”

Patton sat next to him as he opened his eyes with a sigh. “Nothing?” Patton handed him a bagel from the box nearby.

Virgil shook his head. “I’m not sure where he is and I have no way of tracking him right now. He doesn’t have his phone on him, he can’t see anything. I don’t know if he has a blindfold on, a bag over his head, or if he’s just in a dark room.” Virgil stared down at his bagel. “I don’t know what to do, Pat. I'm scared. For both me and Logan.”

Patton rubbed his back soothingly. “Hey, maybe you can send a message to him! Let him know that you’re thinking about him and are trying to save him!”

Virgil nodded, putting his bagel down in favor of grabbing a pencil and paper to write carefully, “I’m looking for you as hard as I can. I need your help. Is there any way you can get your eyes open, even just for a second? I love you and am thinking of you. I won’t rest until you’re by my side.”

Patton read it over his shoulder and cooed. “Aww, that’s so sweet!”

Virgil stared intently at the page, trying to let Logan get a good look at it. When he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, he closed them. Logan’s eyelashes were fluttering in a desperate attempt to open. “That’s it, come on.” Virgil said soothingly, willing the words or at least the sentiment to go across to his soulmate, the love of his life, his husband who got kidnapped just because Virgil published a book someone disliked a bit too hard.

Logan was able to force his eyelashes open and Virgil smacked the table next to him for a sketchpad and anything to draw with. Virgil sketched whatever Logan saw, not completely processing it. Patton made some noises but Virgil ignored him for now, focused on what Logan was sending him. His pencil flew across the page, trying to render as much as Logan was seeing.

Someone appeared in Logan’s line of sight, wielding what looked like a knife and moving their mouth as if they were shouting, and Logan’s eyes snapped closed. Virgil opened his own eyes to find Patton fluttering around the room. Virgil sighed. “How did you ever become a PI?”

Patton paused, standing as if he were a paused screen. He straightened, putting his hands behind his back as if to prove that he was a professional. “Easily. People trust me and I’m good at my job.”

“When you’re not freaking out like that.” Virgil muttered good-naturedly under his breath. He turned his attention to the drawing in front of him. The landscape was a nondescript room, no identifiable features. The only things of note were that Virgil could not see Logan’s hands in this picture so he had to assume they were tied behind his back and the man in the corner of the picture, the one with the knife.

Patton settled down and looked over Virgil’s shoulder. “Have you seen that man before?”

Virgil frowned. “I don’t think so. Do you think you could convince your husband to run it through his database? I can try to blow up the face first.”

Patton nodded. “I can ask Roman to but it would be helpful to have a larger picture of it.”

Virgil nodded, flipping to a clean page and scribbling some messages to Logan first. Most of the messages were telling him he loved him, that Logan did a good job and gave Virgil what he needed, and other little notes like that. He also doodled some hearts and things he knew Logan would love like unicorns standing on the molecular model of water.

Then, he carefully tore out the picture he’d made earlier and set it to the side while he flipped to a new clean page and got to work. He put some headphones on and played some music to distract himself from thoughts of Logan getting tortured. Just to reassure himself, he’d take breaks and close his eyes to check in on his husband. Always, Logan’s eyes were closed.

An hour and a half later, Virgil finished with the drawing. He closed his eyes one more time to check in on Logan and found his eyes open. He seemed to be on his back based on his view of the ceiling and Virgil immediately made a mental note to check for broken wrists. Logan didn’t seem to be in much discomfort but Virgil knew he was good at hiding it from him.

Virgil opened his eyes and passed the drawing off to Patton. “Can we put this in some sort of express way? Even if that means I have to pay for it out of pocket, I don’t care.”

Patton nodded, picking up his phone to call his husband. Virgil closed his eyes again but was met with black, meaning that Logan also had his eyes closed. Virgil pulled the sketchpad closer and picked up where he left off, doodling meaningless drawings. He found an empty space off to the side and wrote, “I got a drawing of the man. We’re gonna run it through a database and see if we can figure out who it is. I don’t want to get your hopes up but I’m coming to you as fast as I can. You’re being so brave, just hold on a little longer, darling. When I get you home, I’m gonna hold you so close you’re gonna be sick of me. I love you so much, starshine.”

Virgil couldn’t sleep that night knowing Logan was out there, maybe being tortured. He kept closing his eyes only to see black. He could faintly see Logan’s eyelids fluttering so knew he was alive at least, probably with a blindfold on. So, he got up and put on a documentary with subtitles, hoping to let Logan watch along with him.

He wasn’t aware it was morning until he got a call from Patton saying that he’d teamed up with another PI and they’d found where the man, Alden Blue, was located. Virgil hurried to get dressed and out the door, more than ready to have his husband within sight again. He met up with Patton and they drove there with Remus, Roman’s PI brother.

Virgil was told he had to stay in the car but he insisted on coming in with them. So, he was given a vest and put in the back of the group. They’d brought in a small team to help and soon had Blue in custody. Virgil ignored the man, who was now sitting against the wall with handcuffs and a bloody lip, and kept going through the rooms.

Soon, he came to a room that looked exactly like the drawing. He found Logan in the corner, on his back with his hands cuffed beneath him, a blindfold covering his eyes. Virgil breathed a sigh of relief at seeing him mostly unharmed. He walked over and saw Logan’s head turn at the noise, shrinking back slightly.

Virgil’s heart broke at the way Logan was trying to curl up as small as he could. He carefully knelt next to him, murmuring, “Let me see you, darling.”

The blindfold slipped off and Logan’s frame shook as he dove into Virgil’s arms, confident in his ability to catch him. Virgil did, carefully picking him up and bringing his husband out of the room. He got both the key to the car and the handcuffs key from Patton and made his way out to the car. He gently uncuffed him and brought his wrist forward. Kissing the pulse point, he set about working feeling back into them and checking for injuries. “Are you hurt anywhere else?” He kept his voice quiet.

Logan shook his head, unable to take his eyes off him. “I have a few bruised ribs but other than that I’m unharmed.”

Virgil nodded, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Logan turned his head so Virgil's lips landed on his own last second. The kiss stayed soft and gentle, the couple’s eyes slipping shut as they shared the tender moment.

#tsshipmonth2020 #soulmate au #analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders #you guys asked for this by picking Logan #ace writes

85 notes · View notes

creativeskullcreations · 4 years ago

Text

Outside chapter 23: Final Showdown (part 1)

Just as a warning everyone this chapter, and the next one, both have quite a bit of violence. Bones will break. people(and Puppets) will bleed, and somebody may or may not be dead by the end of this. So don't say I didn't warn y'all.

Also chapter 24 should be up next week, cause I wrote out both parts of this as one whole thing before splitting it. It just needs to be edited now, but that can be done tomorrow after work. Also we’re pretty much at the end now. But more on that later, for now enjoy the Final Showdown.

Stacy stayed limp, even as she was tied up by her wrists. Her eyes remained closed, as Mortimer grabbed her face and turned it this way and that to check for consciousness. As she suspected, he refused to even try anything until he knew she was awake to experience it. Even after she'd been feigning sleep for hours.

'You freaks are all the same...' She thought as she swung gently against the wall, listening as Mortimer stalked around the room, muttering under his breath. 'Oh wow, I think he's practicing his villain speech. Loser.'

Her inner monologue of mocking Mortimer did little to keep her fear down. It was only old habits from her childhood that helped her facade stay up in the face of Mortimer suddenly slamming something. The sounds of pages being flipped, and more muttering, this time about Riley. Or maybe about Owen, it was difficult to tell.

Listening to him walk back and forth, muttering and turning pages in a book, Stacy found herself in a tense boredom. It wasn't the first time, and wouldn't be the last, but it made it difficult to keep up her facade. Briefly, quietly, she wished something would happen to get this show on the road.

Unknown to her, however, the door to the Sound Stage had slowly been pushed open, two humans peering around the edge. "Looks pretty safe." Will muttered as he eased the door open wider. "Remember, just grab and go."

"Right." Scout whispered back as she crept into the room. It seemed empty enough, though there were runes and magic symbols scribbled all over the walls. And, hanging in front of one that seemed to be drawn in blood, was her Puppet body. Biting the back the cry of her Host's name, she made her way over to her.

Trembling hands reached up to try and fight the knots around the fabric wrists, but stopped at the sound of heavy footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw the slow, lumbering approach of a Sock Puppet, one that was quickly speeding up.

"Shit!" She hissed out as she dodged around it, noticing Will coming inside and drawing his gun. He didn't get a chance to use it when the sound of wood hitting wood came, and the Sock Puppet relaxed, stepping to one side to reveal Mortimer.

"I can't say this is much of a surprise to see." He started as he walked his Host forward. "I knew that you would make your way to me. Why don't you join me now for some tea?" He stepped aside and gestured to a small, round table set up for tea. He turned to go take his spot at the "head" of the table, and Will raised his gun to aim at his head. Scout grabbed his arm and forced it down, looking pointedly at the Sock Puppet. He stuck it in his pocket and they went over to the table, followed by the Sock.

They stood next to each other, across the table from Mortimer and very aware of the Sock behind them. Neither of them touched their cups, though Mortimer himself did take a long drink from his.

"So you've made it this far in, and all for little Scout." He started after finishing. "Tell me now, how were you planning on getting back out?"

Will held up his gun in response, and it was almost immediately taken by the Sock Puppet. He glared after it as it stared down the barrel, but didn't try and get it back.

"Ah well, a model attempt at the very least, but guns are not allowed. Far too messy, annoying, and loud." A poor rhyme, in Scout's opinion, but Mortimer did seem pretty distracted. She didn't miss the way his eyes kept darting to Stacy.

"Has she woken up yet?" She asked, blatantly turning her head to look. In the corner of her eye she saw him follow her gaze.

"Sadly, not quite yet. I feel there are conditions still not met. Perhaps you know why she remains still unconscious. I feel like I've missed something quite... obvious." His eyes roamed over her, and she avoided meeting them, suddenly scared he could see right through her.

"Well, I have no fucking clue what you're talking about." Will replied nonchalantly. "But if you give back that Puppet, I promise my friends and I will leave, quickly and quietly and with no more harm done."

"Somehow, I don't believe you." Mortimer took another sip of his tea, staring unblinking at the man. "How do I know that what you say is true? No, better to take care of this problem now, and put all of you down."

"Put us down?" Scout repeated quietly.

"Of course! Can't have defective hosts running around. You'll ruin all of our carefully laid plans, before we can take a final bow." He explained, drawing himself up and gesturing grandly. "No, it's better to deal with you now."

Grabbed from behind, Will almost gagged on the necrotic smell coming from the Sock Puppet Hosts. Scout seemed unaffected, probably used to it even now. He kicked back, catching the groin and yanking out of the one handed hold. Leaping over the table, he grabbed the pot of hot tea and flung it, catching both Mortimer and his Host in the face.

The howls of pain distracted the Socks, allowing Scout to escape and run over to Stacy, who by now was watching with wide eyes. Puling on the knots with trembling, clumsy fingers, she couldn't get them loose before being pulled away and thrown.

"Scout!" It was weird hearing her own voice from the outside, as she scrambled to get up. She pushed that thought from her mind, more worried about how Stacy had just blown their cover.

Luckily, Mortimer seemed too preoccupied with Will, who was throwing the tea set at him one piece at a time. He hadn't gotten him with anymore tea, but it certainly distracted him. Noting the Sock lumbering towards her, she dodged around it, grabbing the dropped axe as she went.

'No time to try those knots again! Aim properly, and don't fucking hit her or I'll never hear the end of it!' She ran straight for Stacy, chopping the rope with it as she went by. It was a little high, but she heard the soft thump of the Puppet hitting the floor as she led the Sock around.

Turning a tight corner, she intended to grab her swapped Host on a second pass, but almost stopped when she couldn't find her.

'Oh no!' Mortimer and Will were still fighting each other, and the Sock certainly hadn't grabbed her, so where was she? 'Fuck I am so dead!'

-----

Sammy sat next to the bag, surrounded by small, evil Puppets. Canon was in his lap while Bit was on his head, and the other two were sat next to him watching as their Hosts paced in the narrow hallway. They had some makeshift clubs, and Mason had rigged up a quick trap, but other than that they were pretty defenseless.

"We're gonna die." Bonzai muttered. "They're gonna come for us and all we have is three Hosts to defend us. Not even any vents to escape into."

"Quiet you!" Bit snapped. "They're so much bigger than Riley and Nick, and they took out Daisy!"

"They're not bigger than Rosco, however. To him, they would surely fail to come out better." Stitch said quietly. It was hard to tell what that one was thinking, in Sammy's opinion, but he thought she seemed rather sad about that.

"Ooh, Stitchy, bad rhyme. Do better next time." The red haired one told her sister mockingly. She got a glare in reply, but the yellow and orange Puppet said nothing more.

"Or just stop. They're gonna kill us all anyways, so why even bother." Bonzai piped up.

"Nobody's gonna kill you. Don't be so negative." Sammy told him, only to receive his own glare. "Look, once they get back we're all gonna leave and burn this place down, and we'll bring you guys with us. It'll be fine."

"Also we kinda don't have a choice in the matter anymore." Lisa added, pausing in her step and leaning against the pipe she'd found. "Pretty sure if you guys die, then so do we."

"Which is so, so creepy!" Mason muttered with a full body shudder. "Ugh..."

"Oh quit your whining. Scout's gonna love that we rescued her siblings!" Lisa said, and both Sammy and Mason just gave her blank looks.

"I don't think so. She's never even mentioned them." Mason pointed out. The blonde just shrugged, unending optimism still in her voice.

"Maybe she just didn't want Stacy to worry? You ever think about that?"

Sammy just rubbed his temples as the two devolved into arguing. "I really need a joint." He muttered. The Puppets stared at him in confusion, and Bonzai started counting his actual joints to make sure he had them all.

Anymore arguing or questions were stopped, however, by the sound of heavy, slow footsteps approaching. In the distance was a soft glow, slowly growing larger and brighter. And closer.

Lisa and Mason brought their weapons up, and Sammy stood and forced the Puppets behind him. He had a broken broom, while Mason had another pipe, but none of the weapons felt like they'd be enough as they saw the giant, mutilated dog Puppet.

"Oh." Lisa swallowed thickly, voice small and quiet. "That must be Rosco."

-----

Will had never fought anything like this before. Even the most violent and aggressive of haunted dolls had been just that, dolls. But Mortimer had a full grown, if severely malnourished, adult man attached to him which made it very difficult to get the upper hand on him. And he was all out of things to throw.

'Gotta get that gun back.' He kicked the Host and knocked him away, before turning towards where Scout was trying to deal with the Sock Puppet. She was definitely making use of the prosthetic, however clumsily. But, he could still see the gun held in it's free hand, even as it tried to grab her with it.

"Hey! I need that gun!" He called out, dodging another attempt at being grabbed. Whether Scout even heard him he couldn't tell, but a few seconds later the gun went whizzing by his face, hitting the far wall before he could even register it. Thankfully, it didn't go off, but he and Mortimer did take a second to stare before they went back to fighting.

"Thanks for the fucking warning!" He called out sarcastically, trying to find an opening. At least now he had a chance to get it, if Mortimer would let him.

"Fuck off!" Was Scout's reply as she repeatedly smashed her fist into the side of the Sock's Host. It seemed to be working, as it was starting to go down, or at least act disoriented, and it was giving Will ideas.

There weren't any chairs, and he was out of tea sets, but there had to be something else he could use for a weapon. Some half-rotted cardboard set pieces, the table, but nothing really useful. So he punched Mortimer in the face, hearing a snap as he broke the Puppet's nose.

A howl of pain, as a thick, red sap leaked out. "You horrible, defective Host!" He snarled out, nose snapped and bent.

"Ha! Oh shit..." He turned and ran as Mortimer chased him down. "Shit! I fucked up!"

Scout watched this with the dying Sock Puppet. "Hell yeah you did." She punched it again as it tried to stand back up, and it sank to the floor. She then grabbed the axe and yanked it out of the wall. She went to go help Will, but stopped when she saw more Sock Puppets coming out of the doors.

"Oh fuck me..." She whispered, as half the group went straight for her.

-----

Lisa was screaming. She was aware she was screaming, but could not stop screaming even as she repeatedly whacked Rosco on the head with her pipe. She had no clue what she was screaming, but Mason would tell her later that it was a mash of swears in both English and French.

Mason, on the other hand, was struggling against two out of three Puppets by himself. Yes, three, as Riley had managed to grab the bag and reattach Daisy's head, and also put her eyeballs back. Luckily she was still without a real Host, so it was fairly easy to kick her away when she got too close, but it was annoying and a distraction. And Riley only had one arm, oddly enough, though it didn't seem to stop her from putting her all into her attacks, with him barely able to hold her back at times.

Nick hung back and gave mockingly encouraging words to the other two, but didn't do a lot to help otherwise. He only joined the fight when Sammy managed to sneak up behind him and stab his Host with the broken end of his broom.

"You ass!" Was the artist's response, already feeling his Host begin to bleed out. He stumbled after the stoner, who managed to keep just out of reach while smacking his head, the sound of wood against wood echoing in the small space.

"Diediedie why won't you die?!" He sang out as he drummed against the Puppet's head, disorienting him enough he couldn't fight back, even after Daisy switched her attention to Sammy. Clawing her way up his body, he had to quickly start smacking her until she finally let go and dropped off. He then stomped on her until Nick managed to come to and grab him, pulling him by the back of his shirt and choking him.

Mason saw this and brought his pipe down hard on the arm holding Nick, feeling more than hearing the bones snap under the metal. He howled in pain, letting go of Sammy as he flopped down, other hand flailing trying to catch himself.

Mason grabbed Sammy and started pulling him back towards the door, taking Riley out with a well-timed head-shot as they passed. Which, conveniently, distracted Rosco and gave Lisa an opening to escape.

As she joined them in their attempt at fleeing, pausing only to grab up their Hand Puppets, Sammy and Mason kept their weapons up. The Handeemen were starting to recover, and they had inadvertently trapped themselves.

Backs to the Sound Stage, where Will and Stacy were possibly fighting Mortimer, and in front of them were three royally pissed off Puppets and a dog-monster. Lisa wasn't sure if they should push forward, or try and fall back, but looking at what was ahead of them made her blood rush from fear.

Survival was not looking good.

14 notes · View notes

shhhlikeme · 5 years ago

Note

Hello! Can I get an S/O that’s tall (not like super tall but like 5’9, 5’8, maybe even taller) and she’s really insecure of her height with Tsukishima, Atsumu and Kuroo. It can go into NSFW

Hi! 🥰 You may! I’m 5’4 but one of my best friends in high school was 5’11 and she was always insecure about her height even though she was stunning so this felt relatable and I want every tall girl to read this!!. Let’s just say reader is 5’10” to be safe. Why not!

Also, I only wrote for Atsumu and Kuroo here because the writings are relatively long and I want to get to all suggestions. If you still want a Tsukki version in the future just request again okay? xo

Atsumu | Kuroo x Reader Who is Insecure about being Tall

Atsumu

After a long chase and his relentless pining you had finally agreed to be this boy’s girlfriend last week

The first thing he wanted to do was show you off

The two of you were getting ready for Atsumu’s College Formal Athletic Banquet, where his volleyball team were the guests of honour

As it usually goes in relationships, the blonde boy was ready way before you

but it wasn’t like you two were late so he wasn’t complaining

He also wasn’t complaining because that meant he could watch you put on your finishing touches

As much as he loved when you were makeup-less and natural more, there was something sexy about the way you applied your lipstick and the way you ran your hands along your long torso to straighten the dress you had on to your hearts content

He was leaning against his bedroom door frame silently gawking at your beauty

He admired your long legs that peaked out under the double slits of your dress because they looked like like they went on for days

In his head, he thanked every God and Deity out there for making him the lucky son of gun who gets to call you his date

Man, the guys are going to be so jealous, he thinks as you sit down, stretching your legs out in front of you to apply lotion on your legs individually

Mesmerized, Atsumu licks his lips. get your bf girl he’s about to pounce

He kinda wished your dress was shorter like the drool-over-me dress you wore when he first saw you at the club with your friends

That night you were the tallest girl in the club which meant you commanded all of the attention on the dance floor. Atsumu can recall perfectly how thirsty he felt which had nothing to do with the fact that he hadn’t visited the bar yet watching you—this beautiful, tall Goddess of a woman confidently striding past her admirers too low to even get your attention.

He told his friends that they better not dare hit on you and when they protested he shot them a menacing glare so intense they immediately stfu

Back in the present, he also wished your dress was shorter so that your God-Tier legs weren’t playing a sultry peek-a-boo game with him all night that he was sure to lose

You’re tempting him

But on second thought, he remembered how other guys looked at your legs that night at the club and thought otherwise

Atsumu’s eyes recovered from their glaze over as you stand back up and fix your hair one last time before you spot him in the mirror and smirk.

“I’m ready.” You say simply.

Atsumu cleared his throat and pushed himself up into a standing position, ready to compliment you until your face turned red.

“You look—wait you’re not ready. What about your shoes?”

You peered down at your feet in simple nude flats. You sighed.

“Atsumu......I changed my mind.”

Atsumu raised an eyebrow at you disapprovingly.

“Y/N.”

He asked you if you wanted him to call your best friend Mariah, who always forced you to wear heels. She did this at the club the night you met your incredible boyfriend and has held it over you ever since.

Atsumu walked to the corner of his room where you had set down the box of gorgeous high heels that you were planning on wearing tonight if your insecurities didn’t get the better of you.

Looking like a prince, he walked back over to you with an intense expression. You couldn’t look away from his eyes. He backed you up until the back of your thighs hit his chair and you sat down.

Your boyfriend stared down at you.

Still maintaining eye contact, he slowly took a knee in front of you in his expensive suit to run a hand down your long legs

“If my coach wasn’t making us go to this thing tonight, I would have you screaming my name right now with these fucking remarkable legs wrapped around my ears, baby girl.” He took off your flats gently and replaced them with your heels.

Is this Cinderella or whattt? How could he be so romantic and so utterly seductive at the same time?! Your breath shortened at his words

“I’m still debating it.” Atsumu stated before groaning as he caressed your perfect legs in the new shoes. “Do not rob me of the rare opportunity to see them look even better in heels.”

You shivered at the chilling undertone in his deep voice. It was the same voice he used when he was inside you, talking you through your release. He spoke again.

“If you do, there will be consequences.”

Kuroo

“You were bullied.... for being tall?”

Asked your boyfriend Kuroo for the third time since this conversation about your biggest insecurity had started.

The two of you were lounging in the pool in your backyard. He was in the water, his chiseled arms folded in front of him as he propped his upper body on the edge of the pool. You sat your bum on the edge beside him, only allowing your feet a dip in the water.

You nodded for the billionth time

The boy looked perplexed

“But, you’re so beautiful...? And I thought it was a good thing to be tall.”

He was always praised for it his whole life so he took a lot of pride in being shy of 6’2.

You calmly explained to him that anyone can get bullied and you definitely didn’t look this way before puberty. That you stood out like a sore thumb, all the boys avoided you -and that it’s a good thing to be tall when you’re a male. That the trend was always how cute “fun sized” girls were and not how cute your 5’10” frame was. You explained to him that it was the same way girls dismissed short guys and fawned over the ones that looked like him.

“I see.” Your freakishly good looking boyfriend pushed his wet bangs back and out of his face. “I guess I never really thought a girls attraction was dependent on her height. I mean, you do know that guys only like the fun sized girl because it made them feel better about themselves, in terms of feeling able to protect the girl and stuff. It had everything to do with how it makes the guy feel, not how valuable the girl was.”

You nod slowly because you never thought of it like that. Still, you were not sold on why you should drop your insecurities when they were very relevant

“And.... Kenma is considered pretty short, right?” He shrugged, thinking about his best friend. “Girls confessed to him just as much as they did to me, if not more...”

You tried to find a good comeback to that but you couldn’t.

“You look like a freaking Victoria’s Secret Model, Y/N. You wouldn’t if you were short. When you wear lingerie for me or this bikini.......” His eyes visibly darkened as he drank in your body. “To be fair you look better than any model. By far.” Halting himself from checking you out he lifted his eyes back up to yours before he started humping the pool wall. “All guys liked Victoria’s Secret models at that age when you were being bullied, and if any of them were to say that they wouldn’t sell their right arm and jump at the opportunity to date one of them, no matter how tall the model was, then they were fucking lying. We actually really love tall girls they’re just intimidating. Boys talk but everyone was probably just jealous of you. I mean, you’re my girlfriend and I still feel like bowing every time you walk into a room, you just command attention. I can kiss you without leaning down much which is the bessst, and our bodies match up flawlessly in bed. I love it. Height is power, babe. If you were with another guy and I saw you I would be sooooooooo salty because how did he get the confidence to approach someone that looks like you??? That’s why I had to ask for your number when we met. I would be kicking myself if I didn’t. Not only are tall girls hot and you could be a Victoria’s Secret model, but YOU are a dream come true for me.”

You shut your mouth completely. Your boyfriend always knew how to make you feel better and he didn’t even know it.

“Thanks, babe.... I love you.” You smiled at him suggestively and lifted your sunglasses to rest on top of your head. You pulled your legs out of the water and swung them to the side in order to stand up and walk over to the beach chair.

Kuroo couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched you literally look like a front-page super model in real-time. Your legs were so long and sexy. He wanted to leave hickeys on every inch of them.

“Hey, speaking of Victoria’s Secret... that reminds me.... I have a few more sets I’ve been dying to show you.”

You wrapped a towel around your body and looked back over at your boyfriend whose eyes were so dark it made you slightly dizzy.

“You always know how to make me feel better..” You cooed at him, pretending his gaze wasn’t making you wet. “Let me return the favour.” You daringly turned your back to him and tugged on the two strings that unravelled your bikini top.

Kuroo gulped.

Before you walked back inside your house, you carefully lobbed the bikini top over to your boyfriend who caught it in the air with perfect athleticism.

Frozen with lust, Kuroo stared at your retreating figure. You were so tall which he was sooo happy for because that meant you had more skin to worship for hours on end. He craved you.

“Fuck me, Y/N.” Your now horny boyfriend cursed as he thought about what you looked like under that towel, dressed only in a thong bikini bottom. “You are so gonna get it.”

#atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyu requests #haikyuu boys #haikyuu sexy #haikyuu x tall reader #haikyuu kenma #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcannons

204 notes · View notes

cagestark · 5 years ago

Text

Introduction to Ink

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Chapter Four

@starknakedsluts ;)

About this: Bucky has tattoos and sheltered!Toni wants to touch them. Fem!Tony Stark. College AU.

BUCKY.

The first time Bucky sees her, she’s sitting on one of Nat’s tasteful patio chairs with a textbook open on her knees, bent over to try to read by the fading light. Her hair falls long and dark around her face, hands tanned with thin fingers that flick through pages of her book with purpose. All around her are various acts of debauchery: water polo in the pool with Nat shouting at someone who has spilled their cocktail in the chlorinated water; music loud enough to feel like a second pulse where it resonates in the drum of his chest; the patio table beside her littered with bottles of alcohol and mixers. All this and she looks like an island, some peaceful quiet piece of frozen time. Completely out of place. Bewitching.

A warm hand clasps him on the shoulder, startling him. It’s just Steve, hair wet but body dry when he pulls Bucky in for a quick hug. “Good to see you, brother,” Steve says warmly in his ear, and yeah. Bucky will endure the chaos for this. It’s been too long since he’s seen Natasha and Steve and Sam and the others. So what if he has to swim through an ocean of obnoxious people to find them?

Islands, he thinks, eyes drawn back to the girl reading the book.

Bucky lifts his chin in her direction. “Who’s that?”

Steve glances over. “That’s Toni. She’s Nat’s roommate at uni. I guess she was homeschooled her whole life, real sheltered. Nice girl, though. Hey, go get a drink and I’ll see if I can’t get Sam away from the beer pong table. Clint’s around here, too, I think, so keep your eyes peeled for him.”

With careful, cautious steps, Bucky approaches the table. Toni doesn’t look up from her book, though she does flip the page. Her nails are short and tidy, free of polish. This close, Bucky sees that she’s wearing a sleeveless shirt with a high neck and a skirt that brushes her knees. She couldn’t be more different from the other girls at the party, and she might as well be the antithesis of Nat.

Curiosity tickles at the back of his brain. What is she reading? he wonders. A glimpse at the open pages shows complex graphs and models that offer him no hint. He’s so busy trying to look at her book out of the corner of his eye that he knocks over a bottle of Jack Daniels. Like dominos, it sends a stack of plastic cups and a cup full of decorative umbrella scattering over the table.

Cringing, he lets his eyes be drawn back to her. Toni is staring up at him, and then Bucky remembers that he’s not like anyone else at the party either. First he takes in her face: the wide, dark eyes, the straight nose and full mouth. Fuck, she’s young he thinks to himself, feeling like a pervert. Obviously of age if she’s sharing a room with Nat back at NYU, but he wouldn’t doubt that he’s got seven or eight years on her. He’s so busy looking his share and berating himself that he almost misses her expression, the way those big eyes grow round as moons, her mouth dropping open in a near comical expression of disbelief and perhaps disgust.

Right, Bucky thinks distantly. He’s not the poster boy for sheltered.

She takes in the tattoo above his left eye, the one of his sister’s name that he’d only gotten earlier in the year on the anniversary of her death. Those dark whiskey colored eyes skirt past his face down to his neck where ink protrudes from above his collar all the way to his cut jaw. He’s grateful that he’s wearing a jacket over his t-shirt, so that she can’t see the tattoos that cover his arms. It doesn’t stop her from eyeing his hands though, the letters tattooed across his knuckles, the UFO and creeping ivy (respectively) on the back of his hands.

It’s not the first time Bucky’s been stared at this way (like he’s a degenerate, like he’s got three heads) and it won’t be the last; though, he does wonder when it will stop stinging so much. He cuts his eyes away from her, unable to watch her watching him with that look on her face. He fixes the mess he made, restoring everything to its proper spot. Unwilling to turn tail and run—at least, not without a drink—he kneels to open a cooler beneath the table and finds twist-top beer. When he chances looking back up, there’s a complex series of microexpressions playing across Toni’s face, ones that Bucky can’t even begin to interpret.

At his stare, she mutely lifts her book and presses it flush to her chest as if it is a shield. As if she is afraid of him.

The cover reads An Introduction to Modern Astrophysics.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters.

Her mouth opens and then shuts. She nods, absolving him. He takes that as permission to give her a forced smile and make a prompt exit left stage. Dark eyes burn into his back as he walks aimlessly into the sea of party-goers looking for Steve or Sam or anybody.

Nat finds him spectating the game of beer pong (instead of pulling Sam away, Steve had somehow become roped in himself, helping Sam to dig himself out of the hole he’d been slipping into). She’s a breath of fresh air, her red hair wet and dark and plaited down the back of her head, her eyes tired and her smile easy. Bucky doesn’t even mind that she gets him wet during their hug. He’s missed her.

They spend time catching up and heckling Steve and Sam.

“What’s the deal with your roommate?” Bucky asks, leaning into her so that he doesn’t have to raise his voice.

Nat narrows her eyes, seeing straight through him. “Why?”

Bucky shrugs a shoulder and refuses to elaborate. Sam makes a shot and a girl on the other team has to drink, so Bucky lets his eyes rest on the stranger’s bobbing throat just so he has a place to look that isn’t into Nat’s x-ray eyes.

At last, Nat hums. “She’s an engineering student. Her dad was some big Congressman—I guess he made some controversial moves because she said there were a lot of threats made against him and his family. They kept her home all the time to keep her safe.” Nat leans in, her mouth nearly touching his ear. “She said once when she was little, she was kidnapped for ransom.”

“Holy shit,” Bucky mutters.

“She’s basically been living under a rock her whole life. A very expensive, luxurious rock.”

Even at risk of saying too much and laying all his cards on the table, he says: “She looked at me like I was a freak.”

Natasha frowns, face going soft and sad. “I’m sorry, J. She’s probably just never seen someone…”

“Like me.”

“She��d be an idiot to judge you for the way you look.”

Bucky smiles a little. “Most people are idiots.”

She can’t deny that. When Steve and Sam finally crush the duo they were up against, the two losers slink away to lick their wounds and leave the end of the table free for new blood. Natasha looks up at him with a smirk. “Think you’ve still got what it takes, Barnes?”

Bucky slips his jacket off his shoulders. The only thing beneath is a white t-shirt, thin enough that the tattoos on his chest and abdomen are just visible through the fabric as dark, teasing shadows. He knows he’s pale, avoids the sun to keep his ink as fresh as possible. Leaving his jacket on a nearby chair, he says, “Only one way to find out.”

While they’re filling fresh cups with beer, his eyes are drawn to the patio chair on the porch, looking for that dark curtain of hair. Except he finds a tanned, angular face watching him, ducking back down to look at her textbook once she’s caught.

Bucky turns his eyes away and doesn’t let himself look again.

TONI.

The sun sets, and the moon turns the party-goers into hellions. A fight breaks out between two frat boys over a girl and Steve has to step in to break it up and kick both of them out. Not a half hour later, three police squad cars show up after a noise complaint from one of the other neighbors in the cul de sac. The party is shut down (to Toni’s guilty delight).

She’d moved into the house once the sun had set, unable to read by the twinkling fairy lights that she’d helped Natasha to string around the yard and patio. It was much more comfortable inside among the air conditioning and the luxury. The marble countertops of the kitchen island felt familiar to her. The outdoors with the grass that itched her ankles, the bugs that never stopped shrieking or flying in her ears, and the humidity that made her shirt stick to her bare back—that would never be familiar to her.

Toni had always been a homebody, willing or not.

Seated at the kitchen island, she is so short that her feet can’t touch the floor, ankles crossed where they sway gently in the air. Flipping through her textbook without aim, she waits for everyone to be gone so that she can help Natasha pick up and then hopefully sleep in one of the tasteful guestrooms. She’s daydreaming of the comfortable bed, the clean cool sheets against her skin when she hears the sound of the patio door sliding open.

All fantasies of cool and comfort burn up, combusted by the man who walks in. The man with the tattoos.

He towers above her even seated on the tall island chair the way she is. He’s shed the leather jacket he was wearing (and for good reason too, with the hot, humid weather). Beneath he wears simple jeans in a sinful fit with a white t-shirt that’s nearly see-through, sticking to his skin from sweat. His face is stunning: angular jaw covered in a few days’ stubble, a straight nose, eyes a stormy sea-foam with low brows that make him look intense in a way that has her legs shaking.

His conventionality ends there. Toni has never seen a man like him in her life. Above one brow is a woman’s name in elegant cursive. His ears have holes in them large enough for her to see through. On his neck are geometric lines reminiscent of honeycombes, disappearing under the collar of his shirt. He’s covered from fingertip to shirt sleeve with designs, her eyes dancing across his pale skin, never able to land for longer than a moment before something else captures her attention.

He looks like a kindergarteners artwork, she can imagine Howard sneering. Scribbles all over him. Not even worth pinning to the refrigerator.

Toni has seen tattoos before. Happy, her security guard for as long as she could remember, had one on his bicep of his mother’s favorite flower, so. It’s not like Toni wasn’t aware of the things or didn’t believe in their existence. She’s just never seen someone so saturated with them. It’s a stark difference from the people she grew up knowing: stiff public figures in formal clothing who denounced youth culture and considered people with tattoos degenerates.

He’s everything her father warned her about when she insisted on going to public university under a different last name. He’s so raw.

He’s so, so beautiful.

“Sorry,” he says at the sight of her, his neutral expression dropping into something stormier.

Toni tries to smile, but judging by the way his face grimaces, it isn’t successful. She can feel the way her face begins to burn just from his sheer proximity, so she forces herself to turn back to her textbook and pretend to scan the page.

Surely he must see through her. She feels attuned to him, hyperaware of the sound of his footsteps on the tile floor, brain working to pinpoint his exact location based on how the sounds shift. When he appears in the corner of her eye, she flinches, everything in her fighting to keep her eyes on her book. Instead of pausing by her, he continues past to the kitchen cabinets, opening them as if he lives there. How does he know where the drinking glasses are, she wonders.

With his back to her, she feels safe enough to let her eyes flicker upwards, though she keeps her head angled downward for maximum deniability should he turn around without warning. The muscles of his arms are lean and powerful. Sculpted of flesh and bone instead of marble. Only reminiscent of Michaelangelo’s David, he conveys more of Barberini Faun: the impressive height and lean strength of him, the low brows hinting at torment.

Unlike Barberini Faun, there’s nothing overtly sexual about what he’s doing (filling a glass with filtered water from the refrigerator) but Toni finds her back arching in her seat, her sex looking for the blissful pressure it aches for. Toni’s experience with arousal isn’t enough to fill a post-it note with. She’s intimately familiar with erotica, books propped open on her chest with her free hand down between her legs, fingers drifting through her aching folds. At least once a week, she wakes from a hazy, half-formed dream with the urge to roll and wedge a pillow between her legs, to rut against it. There was also that squirming heat that bloomed whenever Natasha stripped her clothes off in the main room of their dorm—but that was nothing Toni was interested in confronting today.

This man is the first non-fictional person she’s ever experienced such attraction to. Her own naivete is downright sickening. Toni has always prided herself on being knowledgeable and a quick learner, but she has no idea how to make her interest known or how to try to be interesting to him in return.

Idiot, she thinks to herself, forcing her eyes back down to her textbook. To interest him would require there to be something interesting or excitable about her. All Toni has going for herself in that regard is an IQ in the 160’s. Hardly a trait to lust over.

The man is refilling his glass when the patio door opens again. Toni’s heart leaps, grateful for anyone or anything to break this invisible tension and also dreading that they might see her embarrassing ineptitude.

It’s Natasha’s boyfriend Steve, his face flushed with drunkenness. He’d been very polite and thoughtful when Natasha introduced them earlier in the day, with an aura about him that could put any person at ease. Toni found her lips quirking up into a smile just at the sight of him, even when his own smile is directed past her. With a half dozen long steps, he’s crossed the kitchen and scooped the man with the tattoos into a bone-crushing hug, water sloshing from the glass over the both of him

Toni notes that tragically it only turns the dark-haired man’s shirt more see-through. She can almost make out whatever image might be inked onto his pale skin beneath—

“Man, I’m so glad you’re back in the city for a while,” Steve says, voice loose but not slurred. He won’t let his friend go and has instead begun an awkward, drunken slow dance with him, shuffling side to side in a way that has Toni pressing her lips together to keep from laughing. The comical expression of exasperated endearment on the other man’s face makes her feel like she’s swallowed a jarful of butterflies.

He pats Steve on the back. “I missed you too, buddy. Buy me dinner though, first.”

Steve snorts. He pulls back and turns to Toni whose eyes widen fractionally at being caught watching their exchange.

“Hey Toni, have you met Bucky?”

“Not formally,” she says, heart pounding. She almost sticks out a hand as if he’s a 60 year old lifelong Senator her father has brought home for dinner. Inside one of the deeper tracks of her consciousness, his name whirs in an endless circle: Bucky Bucky Bucky.

Bucky opens his mouth to say something, but it is lost as more of Natasha’s closest friends enter, taking refuge in the house as the majority of the party are herded off of the property. Apparently they’re going to have a bonfire with just the inner circle left—how the hell Toni has managed to become a member of that inner circle, she has no idea. While she wishes she were tucked away in one of the guestrooms, reading, at least a party of a dozen sounds infinitely more tolerable.

Not to mention that fewer party-goers automatically raises the chances for interaction with Bucky, an idea she both anticipates and dreads. Glancing up, her eyes are drawn to his figure where he and the others have retired into the living room, only to find that he’s watching her. She can feel the flush in her face as she turns back to her book, leaning over and hoping that the curtain of her hair hides her embarrassment.

#winteriron #female!tony stark #toni stark #tattooed!bucky #sheltered!toni #cagewrites

111 notes · View notes

prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

Text

Could it be magic?

Pairing: Cordelia Chase x reader

Request: hey honey, I would looove something about the reader and Cordy being the absolute power couple of Sunndale! I do not really have an idea plot wise, but maybe your muse will give you one! (if not, no problem of course) Love your work sooo muuuch

Requested by: @therapieliteratur

A/N: Short and sweet. I’m not sure how much ‘power couple’ this actually gives off, but I had fun writing it !! Happy Cordy appreciation week 💜🖤

You were sat with Cordy leaning against your shoulder as you flipped through a magazine hidden inside a thick book on magic. You were letting the others take on the major research today. Cordy had stayed in Sunnydale for you, sometimes commuting to LA if she was going for an audition. You had stayed for college and were close to graduating. You had been together since high school, a relationship that nobody would ever dare question or face Cordelia’s wrath directed towards them.

In high school, you had been the couple everyone was jealous of. You and Cordelia were solid, nothing ever even close to breaking you up. You had arguments, sure, but it never lasted. You were in love and this type of love was very rare (especially in Sunnydale).

You had been together for a while, now. Her flaws were many, as were yours. But in some way, you managed to fit together in a way that made you both feel unstoppable. You were literally perfect together, your flaws were her strengths and vice versa. You felt powerful together. Strong in a way that wasn’t necessarily over anyone else it was a strength within that you felt whenever you were together. This force of nature, embodied in your relationship

“How do you guys do it?” Willow asked, looking up from her research, “Stay together for so long I mean?” You looked up from where you had been lost in Cordy’s eyes, being used to the question from so many others mouths. You smiled, about to answer as Cordy started speaking first. You squeezed her thigh, happy to hear her explain to the others.

“Well, it’s like when I go shopping… I don’t rest until I find the best deal, you know? The most expensive item and that’s kinda like me and y/n””

“Did you just compare me to the designer bag you got on sale the other week?” You smiled, chiding her softly. You were the only one allowed to do that without a biting remarks (and sometimes, if she was in the mood she would still reply with such a remark, but you knew not to take it too seriously).

“No, I mean we’re the best item and it doesn’t, like, cost” she said genuinely as the others in the room looked confused at her. But you knew what she meant instantly.

“You’re such a romantic” You whispered softly, understanding her completely. Her implicating that your relationship was so good and with little cost to your personal lives or relationship. They didn’t understand how you both appeared to have your own conversations between those that you had out loud.

You kissed her quickly on the lips before pulling your eyes back to the rest of the room who were now your captive audience. You were happy for them to just stare because you both knew you were the happiest people together. They looked between you both, evidently still perplexed as they themselves had never felt anything like it before. They could only dream of it. The others in the room hadn’t had the best luck in romance, all were now currently single.

You and Cordy knew each other inside out and the others looked at you as the model of a successful relationship. They would often come to you for advice about their own relationships and you always tried your best to help. Often, all you could say when asked for general advice was communication was important. You truly meant it but there was something indescribable about it that you tried and failed to put into words. There was something special there, a willingness or a spark of something otherworldly that had to be there.

If she was falling, you would be there to catch her. If you were falling, there she would be waiting. This was never in question, this trust and that’s what made everything so good. Everyone, including Willow, had been convinced that there had to be some kind of magic involved. You were too perfect together, there was no way you could have found each other so early in life and stay together through everything. But yet you did.

She had slipped her arms around your waist as she rested against you. She looked up at you from her position, whispering for you to turn the page of the magazine. She smiled and pointed out a dress that a celebrity was wearing that she insisted she would be able to afford some day. She gestured with her head, arching an eyebrow. A silent conversation but you both knew exactly what was being said as you started to rise from your shared seat at the same time.

“We’re, uh, heading out”

“Yeah, you can have these” Cordy said, handing both the magazine and the unread book back to the others. You gave her a look, knowing there was now going to be trouble for neither of you paying attention. Xander was the first to notice that there was a magazine poking out of the book.

“Hey! You guys weren’t even looking!” Xander pointed between the two of you accusingly.

“We so did!” She insisted, glaring at Xander, “We came and we helped and then… we kinda got bored of reading the same text for the last hour”

“How are we supposed to find the demon when the pair of you are more interested in what lip gloss is the latest fashion” Giles stated, shaking his head in despair.

“What Cordy means is we tried to look but there wasn’t much to work with. We’re gonna go for a walk, maybe to the café that does sandwiches, to clear our heads” You gloss over Cordelia’s words before pausing for dramatic effect and adding, “…We can bring food back if you’re real nice to us and let us go without comment” You offer with a smile as the rest of the room lights up and has now become your very best friends again. Cordy rolls her eyes but can’t help grinning. You both complimented each other so well. She slipped her hand into yours, ready for your trip out.

“Fine, we’ll bring back takeout. But only if you let us read the rest of the lip gloss interview” Cordelia warned, pointing right back at Xander before taking your hand again and leading you back through to the front of the store.

“Those two freak me out. How are they so in sync?” Buffy muttered half-heartedly. She was really a little envious she couldn’t have that herself.

“What do you think? Could it be magic?” Xander hissed.

“We can hear you!” You both called as you walked away, your fingers woven together as you hurried away from the boredom you would have to return to. But for now the afternoon stretched before you and you knew the others wouldn’t even try and question again now you had caught them out. They knew your relationship was something you were both protective of.

You were still deciding whether to be kind and bring them back their food anyway as you all but skipped through the streets of Sunnydale as if you owned the town.

#Cordelia Chase #Cordy #Cordelia Chase x reader #Cordy x reader #Cordelia Chase imagine #Cordy imagine #btvs x reader #btvs imagine #btvs #ats #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #Buffy Summers #Xander Harris #Rupert Giles #Willow Rosenberg #cordy appreciation week #gender neutral #gender neutral reader

50 notes · View notes

kbstories · 4 years ago

Text

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Protective Baku, Soft Baku, Stargazing

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Minor content warning for (discussions of) self-esteem issues. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

“Bakugou.”

With an absent hum, Bakugou turns the page, squints, scribbles down a line in his neat, tight handwriting. A piece of black fabric separates his hand from the paper, the same wrapped around his pen, too.

Kirishima leans forward, over his own book-and-notepad combination dotted with scrawled comments and colorful post-it notes. It’s been an hour since any of it has made sense to him.

“Bakuuu. C’mon.”

A sigh, annoyed. Another line is added. Then: “The fuck d’you want?”

It takes a few seconds until the silence has stretched enough for Bakugou to look up and into Kirishima’s pleading eyes. Bakugou’s expression barely changes beyond a raised brow, unimpressed. It’s the one reserved for when Kirishima’s being especially dense – slightly more severe than muttered curses and slightly less so than that God-help-me roll of his eyes he premiered during their last study session.

Which was yesterday. Kirishima would be proud of unlocking a new Angry Bakugou Face in record time… if U.A.’s grumpiest genius wasn’t the only thing standing between him and a frankly impressive row of failed grades.

Final’s Week is brutal, even for heroes-in-training. Especially for heroes-in-training. So: Desperate times, desperate measures.

“Slap me”, Kirishima tells Bakugou, hushed in their corner of the library. “As hard as you possibly can.”

The arch of Bakugou’s brow climbs higher, utterly devastating in its wordless criticism. He says, “What”, tone Aizawa-levels of flat, and it’s not a question. It’s a command: Explain or else.

Kirishima is in no state to resist. The confession bubbles out of him in a whiny rush.

“Dude, I slept like… zero hours last night ‘cause Kami got Pokémon Colosseum – y’know, the reboot? So cool – and we kinda lost track of time. I know, I know, it was a stupid idea, I swear it was an honest mistake!”

Bakugou continues to stare as he puts down his pen and wipes his palms on the edge of his shirt. Kirishima ducks his head, hiding behind the limp strands of his hair.

“Don’t look at me like that, man. I’m seriously about two minutes from passing out here and there’s like a hundred pages of this thing I haven’t read yet, let alone understood, and oh shit Mic will hand me my ass with words tomorr–”

It all happens so quickly: Kirishima catches a blur of motion headed his way and squeaks; his skin hardens about half-way before there’s sparks and his cheek smarts, and a hissed “Motherfucker” sounds right in front of him.

The sharp slap! noise registers only after the fact, when Kirishima holds his face and Bakugou holds his hand and they both stare at each other in mutual bafflement as their skin turns red with the impact.

That moment is like glue, clear and sticky as it extends past its natural limit – then Bakugou snorts and starts to laugh, a cackling hyena-laugh that Kirishima’s never heard in full and certainly not like this, loud and unrestrained, and all hopes of holding back his own laughter is lost as he cracks up, too.

They laugh and laugh, until Kirishima’s stomach starts to cramp up and there’s the sheen of tears in Bakugou’s eyes. “Your f-fucking face”, Bakugou wheezes at some point. “Fucking bastard, you almost broke my hand! With your fucking face!”

All it does is send them into another round of hysterics.

At some point, Kirishima glimpses some of their classmates poke their head around the bookshelves secluding their study corner from the rest of the library, faces ranging from exasperated to deeply disturbed. There’s Ashido, giggling at the sight of both of them bent over and struggling to get some sort of grip, and Kaminari, who just mumbles “What the hell, guys” while straddling the line between sleep-deprived and intensely fascinated by what he’s seeing.

And hey, at least Kirishima’s really freaking awake now. There’s the problem of trying and failing to breathe without dying, his face helplessly flushed and sweating, but the world’s colors are back to being bright and sharp. Across from him, Bakugou isn’t faring much better, shaking his head and the back of his hand covering the broad smile he can’t seem to get rid of.

“Fuck you, you stupid, moronic idiot. For fuck’s sake, Kirishima.”

Kirishima rubs at his chest, the ache in his lungs starting to lessen now that he’s marginally back in control. “I’m so sorry but like”, he waves at himself and he can’t help his grin despite the stinging protest coming from his cheek. “Thanks, dude!”

“Eat a dick.” There’s no bite whatsoever in Bakugou’s grumbling as he sits back down and digs his nose into his book once more, thoroughly ignoring their flabbergasted audience.

After a moment of pantomiming what amounts to I’ll tell you later to their friends, Kirishima joins him, ready to tackle the final boss that is the English language.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥 )

yo nitro (sent 17:48)

where u at? (sent 17:48)

why (received 17:52)

why what 🤔 (sent 17:53)

OH uh to hang out? (sent 17:55)

dw dude it’s just me (sent 17:55)

[location] (received 18:10)

bakugou katsuki what are you doing in the middle of the woods??? (sending…)

NO WAY (sending…)

signal’s gone AGAIN i’m going feral (sending…)

screw it (sending…)

The GPS signal craps out twice more before Kirishima heaves himself onto the edge of a cliff and spots a familiar silhouette. Sheltered by a bend in the rock bed, the glow of a fire illuminates a backpack set aside, a pair of discarded hiking boots – and Bakugou, leaning against solid stone with his arms crossed behind his head.

“Took ya long enough”, he says, the lazy smirk on his lips cut in flickering shadows.

“Listen.” Kirishima wipes beads of perspiration off his temple; a spontaneous rock-climbing session by the last light of day is not what he had hoped for after hours of exhaustive quirk training. “We already have a perfectly good camp. There’s, like, leftover curry and hot springs and stuff down there.”

Bakugou scoffs. “Yeah. And a bunch of extras.”

There’s an exasperated reply on his tongue – They’re called classmates, genius. Y’know, friends? – but Kirishima knows it’s pointless to even start that debate. He snipes him with his sweaty headband instead, celebrating his own marksmanship when it hits Bakugou square in the chest with a wet thwap.

“Wha– Shitty Hair!”

“You made me climb this stupid cliff in the middle of the night. Deal with it.”

Bakugou just throws it back, the force of an explosion propelling the thing past Kirishima’s shoulder and off the mountain entirely. Kirishima watches singed white fabric disappear into the abyss, bidding it goodbye with a somber salute.

“Well, that’s lame.”

“You’re lame, fuckface.”

“Bro.”

Shaking his head, Kirishima laughs and joins him by the fire.

It’s quiet for a bit while he gets comfy and Bakugou throws a chunk of wood into the flames, sparks bursting into life immediately. This far up, the air feels… brittle, in a way, thin and cold enough Kirishima wouldn’t have been surprised to see his breath mist. The breeze ruffles the crowns of the trees around them, the rush of rustling leaves in the distance strangely soothing.

Bakugou’s gaze is lost in the night sky when he starts to speak. “Been thinking of borrowing my parents’ car and driving out here by myself. Y’know, once I got my license and shit. ‘s got some good trails, people were talking ‘bout it on those shitty hiking forums. Forums, like we’re in the fucking 2000s.”

His elbows on his knees and his head propped on his hands, Kirishima hums and looks up as well. The moon is a thin island of white in an ocean of indigo blue growing steadily darker, a myriad of stars coming out to keep her company. “Yeah?”

“Mh”, Bakugou makes around a soft breath. “Guess they’re all shit out of luck though ‘cause it’s the personal playground of pro heroes, apparently. It’s a miracle none of our idiots got fucking lost coming out here.”

‘Our idiots’, huh? Kirishima nudges his chin lower and into his palms to hide his smile. “Kinda far of a trip to make just for some hiking, isn’t it?”

A casual shrug, followed by a nod upwards. “Not for this. The lodge is the only structure for miles in any direction and even with us here, it’s got fuck all on an entire city. Get it?”

“Yeah! No light pollution, right?”

“Yup”, Bakugou confirms, popping the ‘p’. A small grin is shot Kirishima’s way, teasing rather than mocking. “What’s this, huh? Don’t tell me you paid attention in fucking physics after all.”

Kirishima breathes an offended huff, mock-hurt.

“Pshh, please. Y’know how everyone has that one niche thing they randomly obsessed over as a kid? That was me with astronomy. Back in Middle School I had like, a huge model of all the planets in my room and my favorite constellations mapped across the ceiling with those glow-in-the-dark stars. Years of useless knowledge, all stored right here.”

Kirishima’s thumb taps his forehead as he smiles at Bakugou; Bakugou’s lips pull into a smile of his own, small but there. When he turns back to the stars, Kirishima does the same, sighing wistfully.

“If Thirteen’s class were just about that I’d freaking ace it, dude. I get that I’m kinda dumb with literally anything else, but space is my jam. Did you know that–”

“You’re not.”

The train of thought Kirishima was about to gleefully jump onto screeches to a halt. “…huh?”

Bakugou frowns at him. “You’re not”, a vague wave in his general direction, “stupid or whatever.”

Perhaps the dumbfounded blinking Kirishima’s doing in response is already enough to prove Bakugou wrong on that. Still, Kirishima sits up a bit straighter, eyebrows pulling together tightly.

“Um. I appreciate you saying that, bro, but I’m only here ‘cause Aizawa decided to get in touch with his merciful side after all. Like, Cementoss totally wiped the floor with me back home. There’s no point in lying to myself about that.”

“So you’re calling me a fucking liar, is that it?”

“Huh?”

Kirishima can only watch as Bakugou’s mouth twists beyond the usual doom and gloom and into something… frustrated. Genuinely annoyed. An iron weight settles in Kirishima’s gut, heavy and hard to ignore. “I didn’t– Look, man, can we not fight over this? I’m just saying I wanna face my mistakes and do better, that’s all.”

“Then say it!”

There’s a severity to the words that catches Kirishima off guard. Bakugou is staring him down with eyes so intense they possess their own gravitational pull, closer to black than crimson in the fire’s light–

Kirishima likes to think he knows Bakugou, at least a little. What makes him tick, what makes him angry – because there is a reason and a rhyme to his anger, a pattern to the things that set him off that Kirishima has yet to properly figure out. It’s just that Kirishima isn’t usually one of those things, not anymore.

“You lost me, Baku”, he admits, quietly, after a beat or two of tense silence. “What do you mean?”

Bakugou sighs, a harsh noise between them. The deep breath afterwards is new, however, a sharp inhale followed by a calmer exhale before Bakugou points at him, a wordless listen up.

“Just– Okay. You fucked up and wanna learn from it? Cool, fucking say that then. Not some bullshit about being too dumb to do shit ‘cause you’re not. Fuck right off with that.”

Mouth opening, Kirishima is stopped by a flurry of firecracker sparks and a terse growl of “Shut the hell up, I’m not done.” Finally, Bakugou’s look snaps elsewhere, one sock-clad foot kicking at a loose rock in clear irritation.

“Studying isn’t your strength, who gives a fuck? You got into U.A. top-fucking-two, you’re one of the only capable fuckers around and if you seriously think you don’t deserve to be here because Cementoss got lucky one fucking time then you got another thing coming.”

Kirishima sits there in a state of mild shock until Bakugou huffs and glares at him again. The threat behind it is ridiculously empty considering the impromptu speech he just gave and holy shit, Bakugou Katsuki is praising him. Kirishima Eijirou.

He might actually cry.

“What? You’re competition, bitch, so don’t make me a fucking liar by pretending otherwise.”

Scratch that, tears are definitely part of the picture now.

Wet-rimmed eyes and a quiet sniff, that’s as far as Kirishima gets before Bakugou’s expression suddenly falls, crestfallen to an almost comical degree. Kirishima does laugh then, a watery little chuckle that doesn’t seem to make things much better, either.

“Sorry, just… Damn Nitro, I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. You really think so?”

And okay, yup, that’s a real glare, this time. Bakugou throws up his hands. “You’re so– Urgh. Did I fucking stutter?”

Kirishima rubs the moisture out of his eyes and smiles. “Nope.” Faint embarrassment heats his cheeks; he focuses on the warmth curling in his chest instead, glowing bright and comforting like the embers at their feet and the stars above.

“Good”, Bakugou mutters.

More wood is tossed into the fire and rekindled with red-hot palms. Scooting closer, Kirishima holds out his hands and hums happily as it chases away the ever-cooling temperatures. They can’t stay up here forever – Aizawa will have his hide for sure if he doesn’t show up to the remedial course tonight – yet Kirishima figures they have a few more minutes.

Bakugou goes right back to his earlier sprawl, unaffected by the cold: arms crossed, eyes on the sky like he can’t get enough of the sight. Kirishima thinks of glow-in-the-dark stickers, faded over time. Quietly, he wonders which constellation is Bakugou’s favorite.

“Kiri.”

“Hm? Yeah?”

Shoulders relaxed, voice even, Bakugou says: “Tell me something. About space, I mean.”

As complicated as being friends with Bakugou can get, it can be so, so easy, too. Just a while longer, Kirishima decides as he settles in next to his best friend and starts talking.

>>Chapter 4

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kiribaku #bnha fanfiction #pre-kamino softness coming right up!#i'm just weak for these two interacting that's all #this fic is also on AO3!!#my stuff

41 notes · View notes