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hoseoksluna · 9 months ago

Text

BANANA MILK | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader

genre: smut, a tiny bit of angst

word count: 5.6k

summary: when a porn video accidentally plays on his tv, jungkook makes sure you watch.

playlist: banana milk / pinterest board: wine

warnings: forced and consensual porn watching, crotch grinding, dom/sub dynamics, plenty of desperation, praise and degradation, reader has daddy issues (like the writer,) oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, biting, pet names and a particular title used, handjob, plushie used during intercourse, spanking, raw sex, squirting, size kink, multiple orgasms, cockwarming

note: this can be read as a standalone, however it's a part two of my fic 'wine'. you guys asked for it and i delivered. <3 i wrote this entire fucking thing in a trace and on my phone, and i still don't understand how i managed to do that. even though i struggled in the beginning, i enjoyed writing this as soon as i got into it. there will be a part three as well—from jungkook's pov. so as you read, look forward to it next sunday. let me know what you think in the comments, don't be shy! mwah ᡣ𐭩

Following the shapes of the sunlight on the parquet floors, your small feet are warm. The clicking of fingers on a sleek keyboard takes you, momentarily, into a hazy frame of mind. You feel as though you’re in a novel yourself, and the sound is a mere announcement that your steps, calculated in depth—thought through, plotted, and cared for—are counted by the man a few feet away from you, the writer, the long lost poet. Counted patiently throughout the rising action until they reach, at last, the climax. The notion unfolds within you, unfurls little by little in a way that you like, for it makes you feel exceptionally alive and poetic. It casts a languorous smile upon your shimmery face. Perhaps it’s due to the double meaning because you’re here for a reason. Or perhaps you owe that smile to the easy joy blooming in your chest, one that was sown hardly an hour ago.

You were in a bookstore, skimming through a paperback that enveloped you in blue dreaminess. The language you had the honor to graze with the pad of your finger was flowery in a way that stirred something within you—something that is noticeably sprouting to life. The furniture of the room was dark and antique under the yellow dimmed light, very much like the one you have at home. It was so you, a true personification of your whole being that made it quite difficult to leave, even though you had something to look forward to.

You were convinced it was your home.

A home that you came around to for the first time in your life—how strange.

You bought the book. It had to be yours, and you had to have a keepsake, a direct link to your hideaway. You set it by the wall next to your shoes and your purse with a pink photocard holder, pulling out a certain bottle of happiness that you brought along for your friend.

The sunlight strips take you straight to him, your feet—kissed by the sun—padding softly on the floor; the third step of the rising action. Jungkook sits slumped on his coffee brown couch with his laptop propped on his lap. His shoulders, clad in a denim sweatshirt, hunch in ever persistent concentration, a Word document opened and being swiftly filled with Hangul. Persistent enough that he doesn’t twist his head to greet you. He knows you’re there. Heard the sweet sing-song beep of his passcode being accepted, letting you in into his solitary life. Knows you didn’t forget it this time because he didn’t have to stand to his feet to open the door for you as he so often did in the past.

You wrap your arms around his neck from the back, tits squished against the nape from the low neckline you chose to wear for the day. It shreds his concentration to smithereens; you feel him inhale raggedly through his nose, fingers coming to a halt on the keyboard. You press your lips against his scarred cheek, not as plump as they usually are because they are still pulled taut into a smile, and whisper, “hi, Ggukie.”

He turns his head to face you from the side.

“Hi,” he breathes. There are peachy specks of glitter scattered all over your eyelids and you watch him study them, round eyes flicking between each one of them as if he can’t get enough of them—as if there are more for him to greet the more he looks.

And he’s right. There are.

His tender mien causes your heart to clench, overflow with a continual stream of endearment for him. You notice the mark of your guileless kiss on the apple of his cheek, the lip gloss pink and glimmering. Decide to leave it there. Decide it suits him well.

“Close your eyes,” he says, and you do.

He drifts the pad of his thumb along that delicate skin. Not to disturb the artwork, no. But to acquaint himself further with it. It’s been a long time since you wore glitter. It’s been equally as long since you were this happy—he senses it, the little iridescent stars tell him somehow. There’s so much of it that when he lifts the digit, the eye makeup stays intact, as if he hadn’t touched it at all. Jungkook flicks his eyes to the craftwork of his stained fingertip, the glitter, the stars nuzzling homely within the lines. Smiles as he mumbles, “pretty.”

You kiss him airily as a thank you. No hands, not anything. Just your lips puckering from the little distance between the pair of you. You retrieve the bottle of happiness from your back pocket and hold it against his hard chest.

Confusingly, with lips rounded, Jungkook looks down and gasps.

Banana milk.

“Come here.”

He hauls you down onto his lap like you weigh nothing, his laptop pushed away to the cold side of the couch. You squeal, pulling your hair as you lay against them and try to find a better position, discomfort painting your features in a way that makes Jungkook scrunch his nose adorably. He lifts your neck and gathers your hair, smoothing it down on the leather. You look up at him. The stars have migrated to your glossy eyes.

“Where’s yours?” he asks, hand placed on the crown of your head, the other clutching the chunky bottle protectively like a child.

“I already drank mine.”

Jungkook pierces the paper lid with the slim straw and takes a sip. Lowers it until it pokes you in the line of your lips. Nods at you, encouraging you to drink.

Your heart clenches again, and the thoughtful gesture makes it swell. It suddenly feels like your chest is very tight, like there’s no space for your organs. You massage the feeling away, wrapping your lips around the plastic, taking a few sips. No hands, not anything.

“You’re a sweet boy,” you whisper, a dollop of the creamy liquid adorning the oily pinkness of your lips.

A bright blush creeps along his cheeks, settling along the bridge of his nose as it ever so often does. Gazes down at you, then at your lips. Scrunches his nose again as he shakes his head, bending to peck you delicately, tongue swiping across your bottom lip, cleaning you up. His habit at this point.

“I��m a man.”

Your face grows hot. The imprint of your lip gloss stained his mouth and it worsens your state, deepens your dreaminess. You’re leaving small parts of your being as marks on him. You find that beautiful, in all its simplicity.

“Sweet and pretty,” you add in a hushed whisper, more to yourself than him.

Twinkles, akin to your glitter, flood his eyes and they deepen in thought. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and when he drifts the palm of his hand down your throat, curling around your collarbones, you realize he’s having flashbacks.

Wine. Neck. Tongue.

The cause and effect on your panties in mere seconds.

Your helplessness. The way you apologized for coming because you weren’t allowed.

Jungkook smirks and so do you. Lets his palm roam down to your tits, discovers only with the lift of his finger that you’re wearing a lacy blue bralette under your top.

“So easy to pull to the side,” he comments, more to himself than you. Doesn’t look at you when he begins to fondle them, transfixed by their fullness.

“That was my—”

“How was your day?” he cuts in, a breathy concoction of a hiss and a moan escaping his mouth once he feels your nipples stiffen under his hand. Index and thumb come and squeeze at that nub, coaxing a hum out of you.

Your brain degrades slowly but surely, metamorphosing into mush. You struggle with your memory, abruptly unable to remember where you were and what you did before you were half spread across his lap.

“Good,” you try. “Fantastic, actually.”

Jungkook smiles. Pinches your nipple again, fingers pressing flat and moving up and down. You moan out for him, writhing in a newly, softly burning desire.

“Really?”

“Yeah, went to the bookstore.”

Did you?

“Bought anything?”

His hand drifts back to your neck, never losing skin-to-skin contact, wraps around the column, then goes back down to your tit. This time, to your neglected one. Gives it the same attention.

You don’t remember if you bought anything.

Zoning out, you focus on the pleasure, fluttering your eyes closed. Figure this is just a meaningless talk that doesn’t require truthful answers or any for that matter. You widen your legs, calling out for his touch there. This is what you came here for. He doesn’t need to know about the itty-bitty parts of your soul.

Jungkook grabs your arm and pulls you up, guiding you to straddle him. You poke the banana milk, propped against the backrest, with your knee. Despite your now lustful haze, you’re careful not to knock it over.

A billow of the whole night lines his eyelashes, arousal blanketing his irises. You run your hand through his hair—can’t help yourself, you’re just obeying your body’s intimate wishes—and tip his head back, his soft strands sifting through your fingers. You draw near to his slightly parted mouth as if to kiss him, but you’re here just to tease him, to make him want more just like he did to you, hovering your lips above his. His slowly quickening inhales add much to your wooziness and you go to hide in the crook of his neck, but he stops you dead in your tracks when he says, “you came here to get fucked, didn’t you?”

Your laughter is but a breath. “How did you know?”

You kiss him there, incorporating your tongue, sucking the sensitive skin for a mere beat of time. And just like him, you discover why he likes kissing your neck as much as he does.

A film of goosebumps shrouds the small portion of the exposed skin of his chest that you’re allowed to see. Jungkook moans lowly, gripping your ass and pulling you closer to his semi-hard crotch, sinking lower into the cushion. Eager hands hook under the hem of your top and fling it out of you, latching onto the back of your neck and drawing you to his face.

He doesn’t kiss you.

He begins to talk.

“I waited for you all fucking day,” he murmurs against your lips, sucking in a breath of air as if there wasn’t enough in his lungs, as if voicing out his desire exerted his energy.

“All I could think about were those fucking tits,” he confesses. “Those hips of yours, so small in my hands. That pussy, fuck. I wanna eat it,” he groans, furrowing his eyebrows. “God, I wanna eat it.”

You nod to each and every word of his, grinding your pelvis against his, mewling into his mouth.

“You understand what I’m saying to you, don’t you?”

You nod again, your body begging you to be allowed to arch your back, but the grip Jungkook has on your neck prevents it from happening. The fire of desire burns bright, made bigger and blue by his spluttering sparks.

“‘Course you do, you’re my good little girl, aren’t you? Smart and educated,” he praises and your walls clench. “Let me eat your little pussy.”

“Please,” is all you manage to utter before he holds you steady by the waist and lays you down on the couch.

Your shoulder blade hits the remote control and a sudden echo of a girl’s moan booms through the room. Both of your heads swing to the TV to see a girl humping her teddy bear, barren down to her full femininity except for her panties. She plays with her nipples, pulling on them while flicking her hair back, hips rapidly moving back and forth on the nose of her big fluffy friend. Mesmerized and completely sobered up from your drunkenness, your clit gains a heartbeat, your teeth sinking into the bottom of your lip.

Jungkook hastily rummages around you to find the remote. You stop him.

“Leave it on.”

He blinks at you, mouth agape. You smile at him, thumb brushing along his knuckles as you take the remote from him and place it on the coffee table. The gesture smooths down the wrinkle between his brows. His blush deepens, the color of roses stunning you.

Undoing your jeans, he pulls down your zipper. “You want me to eat you out while you watch porn?”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

Jungkook sighs, sagging your pants down to the middle of your thighs. “Don’t call me sir or I’ll fuck you in the ass right here, right now.”

“Hurry, she’s almost done.”

He spanks you harshly and you squirm, quickly reminded of his need to be in control, but he listens to your need. Rewinds the video back. Slaps the remote back down onto the wood of the coffee table, which makes you burst into giggles and Jungkook smirks, folding you in half, dragging your panties to your jeans pooling above your knees. The center sticks to your core, causing him to growl, hand coming to wipe at the corners. The girl hops on the teddy bear. Moans fill your ears.

He kisses your clit. Pinches the back of his sweatshirt and hurls it at your head, obscuring your view. You huff in frustration, throwing it back at him, but he catches it. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“You should focus.”

“You going all in for me?” you ask, speaking of his nakedness.

Clothes come off on the verge of his climax, never before it; it’s so unlikely of him to discard himself so quickly. He usually keeps at least one item of clothing on, too hasty—too hungry to bother, until he can’t take the heat anymore.

“For you always.”

He dives into your pussy, tongue licking against your folds, nose pressed against your mound, inhaling you. Going up and down, he drinks you. Moans at the taste, eyes lidded and drunk as he stares at you through the little opening of your barely parted legs. You wish to spread them wider, the pleasure forces you to, but you can’t—the tight fabric won’t grant you the satisfaction.

“Take it off of me,” you whine.

He comes up for air. “No.”

You whine louder, fingers grasping at the waistband. Jungkook grabs your hands and pins them down to the cushion, thumbs resting in the middle of your palms. He doesn’t let a drop of you go to waste, sheathes his tongue into your warmth as he fucks you, nose rubbing against your engorged clit. You tip your head back, lose a sight of him for a moment, digits naturally wrapping around his thumbs like a baby. A litany of curse words, broken by your moans that sync to the girl’s sounds of pleasure, fall from your mouth. You don’t even look at her, too busy—too distracted by the man below you, by the way his open mouth works against you, his dimples hollowing into straight lines, so akin to the sunlight strips that led you to him, as he flicks his tongue against your clit.

You brush your fingers through his hair again, hold it at the roots through the small hole between your thighs. It provokes him enough that he looks up at you and finds you staring back at him. He growls against your cunt, a warning, the vibrations sending you back. Your eyes roll into your head and your hips follow, grinding into his glistening face.

Jungkook hums. Sticks around to see if you’re watching the porn, slowing down the pace of his flicks.

You’re not.

Coming down from that wave, your eyes set back down on him.

Jungkook peels his mouth off of you. Bends over you and grips your neck, pushing you down. The other hand spreads your slick all over your cunt, gliding back and forth. No pressure, not anything. Hearing your squelching noises, he mimics you. Also rolls his eyes back. Awakens the butterflies in your tummy.

“Focus,” he hisses.

You mewl. Ride his fingers to at least feel something, but you achieve nothing of the like.

He spanks your pussy, another warning.

You don’t listen. Can’t take your eyes off of him. Of the disheveled mess on top of his head, the sweat that pools at his hairline, the disarrange of his thick eyelashes from having his lids closed against your skin, the sheen of his nose, the wet puffiness of his lips, the kiss mark on his cheek. You take a deep breath.

It’s impossible to focus on someone else other than him. Especially when he licks his lips, the tip of his tongue sailing around the arc of his lips—the arc of your character development. Swallows the dewiness he called out like teacher to pupil.

You were a virgin when you met him. It was him who taught your body to get messy for him like this. His tongue that tasted your girlishness first. All your first times were with him and continue to be under his ever strict but safe supervision.

Under his custody in a way. You do call him Daddy after all.

“I missed your cuntie so much,” he husks, tightening his grip a tiny bit to emphasize the importance of his words. “But I can’t eat it if you don’t watch.”

His index finger turns your head to the side and his other hand travels down to your wet heat. The girl clutches her friend’s fur in her fist and fucks him slowly. With each roll of her hips upwards, you can see the shine of her slick adorning her folds. Jungkook sinks two digits inside. Can barely fit them in due to the way you clench around him. You fight his hold against your cheek, needing to look at him.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he whispers. “My horny little baby.”

He keeps them there, at the beginning of your hole, pumping sluggishly. Doesn’t look at the girl. Didn’t do so ever since the video started playing. His eyes only drink in your reactions, the twist of your features, the little sounds and breaths that break out of your mouth, gracing his ears, making his cock hard.

It disturbs something within you. Stirs it to life. Kindles it radiantly, adjoining it to the fire of your desire. You know what it is, but you can’t bring yourself to accept it. It’s a feigned reality, one of a novel. Not the one that could ever be applied to your life, burst at the seam, engulf the radius until it absorbs you.

You’re not that lucky. You’re not lucky to have him in that way.

You’re lucky enough to have him physically connected to you once a week.

But emotionally?

Tears prick your waterline.

“I want your tongue on my clit,” you croak out, reckon it’s better that you listen to him, watch the girl make herself come, follow her footsteps and go home.

Distance is safe. Distance heals everything, particularly emotional attachments.

Jungkook ceases his slow movement. Lowers your legs down so they repose across his thighs. Strokes the tremble of your muscles, removing your jeans and your underwear. Keeps that dangly fabric hanging off of the edge of the coffee table. Caresses your face as he says, “Daddy wants that, too. So bad. But you gotta be my good little girl and watch it. Then Daddy will play with your little clit.”

“Okay.”

He settles back into his position between your legs, enfolds your thighs around his shoulders. Placing a tiny kiss on your pussy lips, the soft fleshiness of your thigh steals his attention. He begins to plant big, wet kisses there. Alternates between nibbles and those kisses, mumbling something under his breath that you can’t make out.

The girl’s furry friend is drenched in her wetness. You buckle your hips with need.

“I want to hear your apology,” he orders, lips pressed against your skin.

You look at him and mewl.

“Eyes on the TV.”

He bites you.

You hiss in pain. “I’m sorry.”

He kisses the pain he caused. “What for?”

“For watching you,” you whisper, a lump forms in your throat and is softened by the look of endearment he gives you. Doesn’t reprimand you for keeping your eyes on him.

He latches onto the voluptuous part between your hip and thigh, marks you there. “And why did you watch me?”

You bite your lip to cage the words you really want to say behind your teeth, but some of them slip out. “Because you’re beautiful. Too distracting.” Because you look at me, and not at her.

Jungkook hums. Kitten licks your clit to reward you, lips wrapping around the bundle to suck it. Makes a sound of satisfaction, eyes closing to drown in the feeling. Lets go with a pop. Does it again. Suck. Pop. Suck. Pop.

You moan. Near to the last step of your rising action. One more and you’ll reach your climax. You keep your eyes peeled on the girl, her screams guiding you to that sweet release.

“My good little girl. Making me weak. Making me drunk,” he mutters against your pussy, blowing cool air against your dewiness; you shiver and he laughs softly. “Come for me, baby. Please.”

He sucks your clit again, but manages the pressure. Makes sure it’s light, so you enjoy it as much as he does.

“Keep watching it. You’re doing such a good job. Keep those pretty eyes on the TV.”

A new texture rubbing against your pussy surprises you and a moany gasp escapes you. You look down to find his dear Hello Kitty plushie in his hand and the different, rough sensation tears the rope in your belly.

“That’s it. Ride her. Fuck yeah. Make a mess on her for me. Good, good girl.”

You gush out, your orgasm taking over your body. Trembling, squirming, you thrash your hands in search of something stable that would help you ground yourself. Jungkook doesn’t slow down his movement but he finds your hand, finds the other one too, and pins them above your head. Bends over you and watches you closely, watches those waves surging through your body until they still.

He kisses you, then.

“Such a good girl for me. Well done.”

You struggle to catch your breath.

And there’s no oxygen left in your lungs when Jungkook begins to rock his hips against his plushie, the button of her nose pressing deliciously against your sensitive bundle. Your moans come out in staccatos, dry and breathless. Little squeaks of pleasure that make him crazy. Eyebrows furrowed, stare dark and fixed.

“Fuck, Jungkook. Oh, fuck.”

He laughs and you expect to be degraded, having realized that both of you forgot, for the first time in months, to do so, but he rams into her and nudges his nose against yours. Dimples prominent, mouth stretched into a grin. A sight to die for.

“I could come like this, baby. But I want to feel you. Need your little pussy around me. Might go crazy if I don’t fuck you,” he says hastily, chucking the plushie away. “They might lock me up.”

You might have wanted to go home, but who are you to deny him when he’s this desperate for you.

Butterflies swarm in your belly. And you laugh.

“Fuck me, baby. Come on,” you say, the pet name on your tongue scorching your whole body.

Jungkook hums, palms his hardness as the outline of his cock makes you salivate. While you reach for Hello Kitty to hug her because you need something solid to hold onto, he pulls out his heavy length out of his sweatpants. Wanting him naked, your fingers push down the material and you uncover that he’s not wearing any underwear.

You curse under your breath, your pussy drooling for you.

His member slaps against his stomach and you hiss, your saliva collecting in your mouth at the sight. He grips himself, throws his head back. You focus on his red tip, on the evidence of his arousal agleam in the sudden shadows of the room. The video stopped playing; silence replaced it instead. You care very little for it, entranced by his manhood, by his defined abdomen, the hardness and roundness of his pecs and the small, singular mole right underneath. You find yourself longing to kiss it, swipe your tongue against it and you fulfill your body’s wishes.

You get on your knees. Hello Kitty falls in the middle of them. Jungkook curiously watches what you’re doing and when you do what you longed to do, he moans softly.

“Princess,” he sighs, moans again when you brush your fingertips against his nipple. “You make me feel so good.”

“Yeah?” you question, looking up at him, fingers tweaking his nipple and he vocally shows you how much he likes that.

His sounds of pleasure, the variety of pet names and praise makes you feel woozy all over again. Your pussy dampens the plush fabric, adding to the mess.

“Feel how hard you made me,” he whispers, guides your hand to his length, wrapping your fingers around his girth; you show him, too, how much you like that. “Spit on it.”

You don’t have to be told twice.

Spreading your liquid love all over him, you grip him tight beneath the mushroom to coax that delicious hiss you love hearing. You begin to move your hand from there, sliding his foreskin up and down. His groans are a panoply of pure beauty that you wish to own forever. You wish you could freeze time right now. Deem this is as close to paradise as you could ever get.

This is where you want to be, for all eternity.

You lick over his nipple and Jungkook sobs. Sounds just like you when he plays with you and it makes you sob just the same. You hold it in, though, think this is a time reserved for him only. Concentrate on flicking the nub to make him feel good, squeezing his tip. He deserves it.

“I’m gonna turn myself in,” Jungkook whines. “It’s your fault.” He kisses the top of your head. “You made me crazy.”

You laugh, quickening the pace of your hand that soon slows down when he sultrily orders, “hump her for me.”

“Fuck,” you let out, eyes wide and round as you look up at him. “You want me to ride her?”

A rumble of agreement passes through his lips. “Make Daddy proud.”

You withdraw but Jungkook clicks his tongue.

“Keep your hand where it belongs.”

Your jaw falls open.

He guides you back where he wants you, meanwhile you rearrange the plushie and sit down on her nose, cringing at the cold wetness you left there.

You rock your hips once. The dull pleasure numbs your senses, electrifies your body. Before you’re even aware of it, you hump her like your life depends on it. Your hair lifts and falls around you gracefully in spite of your pace, little strays sticking to your flushed face.

“Slow down, fuck,” Jungkook groans, placing his hands on your shoulders and wrist to stop you. “Slow, baby. Can you do that for me?”

You listen, even though it’s evident you don’t like it.

He chuckles. “Good job,” he praises. “Fix your face.”

You smile up at him, cracking into a gentle laughter. Out of breath, out of your mind.

“That’s it.”

He kisses your forehead. Reaches behind him and grabs the banana milk. Points the straw at your lips. You gulp it down loudly. Jungkook fixes your hair in the meantime.

Sitting down, he hauls you onto his lap. Your back presses against his chest, the tip of his shaft aiming at the middle of your belly. It scares you, how deep he can go and you turn your head to look at him with wide eyes.

He squeezes your tits, pulls the fabric to the side. Pinches both of your nipples at the same time before he kneads the flesh. Your roll your hips against his manhood, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

“You’re just too small, aren’t you?” he whispers against your cheek.

You meow a soft sound that confirms his words.

“Won’t even fit in you. Need to stretch out you for me,” he says, hands traveling down your stomach. “Can you even take two fingers?”

There it is, the degradation. But it’s so tender that you can’t even believe your own ears. You mewl again, finding it so hot that he talks to you like this, knowing you took three of his fingers the last time he touched you.

“I can,” you say and there’s allure to your words, your pussy grinding against him.

He hums. Maneuvers you a little so his cock sits against your ass. Plays with your slick just to hear the filthy sound before he plunges two of his fingers inside of you. He curls them and is brutal as he pistons into you in fast jerks, the muscles in his biceps bulging. With his free hand, he makes sure you gaze at him and he nudges his nose with yours. His short breaths fan against your cupid’s bow and in return, you feed him your moans. He swallows each and every one, his pace never faltering, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your stream of pleasure shoots out onto the coffee table and Jungkook would miss it if his reflexes didn’t act out for him. He groans, strumming his fingers against your clit to prolong your orgasm, lifting you to ram his hard length into you.

You welcome him embarrassingly fast, smothering him until he’s fully sheathed inside you. Because he entered you mid climax, it triggers another one and you scream, thrash your body that he encages with his arms around you, one hand flying to your neck to keep you down. He presses his lips against your temple, lulls you with gentle sounds. Mutters apologetic words, words of encouragement, praise and reassurement. All while ramming his cock into you.

You’re forgetting the day and time. Hell, you’re forgetting your own age and name. All you know is dick.

His dick splitting you open as your head knocks back and forth.

He squishes your cheeks, pressing a kiss there, and it brings you back. You open your eyes, blink a few times. Yelp as he fucks you deeply and holds.

“You’re taking me so well,” Jungkook husks. “You always squirt for me, don’t you?”

You nod, dumbly. He plunges his fingers into your mouth to gather your saliva and takes them down to your clit. He rubs it, and he rubs it in fast circles. His other hand finds the soiled plushie and he crams her into your arms. You cuddle her, needing the comfort.

“If I had a vibrator, I’d keep it right here on your little clit the whole time and break you fucking apart.”

You clench around him, signaling him how much you like the idea.

“I know you’d like that. The thought of it won’t let me sleep. Might have to get it for you after all.”

Your surroundings are foggy. Another surge of orgasm reaches for you to get you. Your whole body shakes. You hug the plushie tighter.

You prop your feet on his muscular thighs and weakly, you snap your hips down on him, setting a steady pace that makes you see stars.

Jungkook ceases your movement. Grabs your waist tightly.

“Stop or I’ll come.”

You fight against him, pushing down on him. He lets you.

“You want Daddy to come for you?”

“Yes, please, I’m so close,” you squeak.

“Hold onto her then.”

He meets your thrust, groans at the impact, at the teamwork. Has a deathly grip on you and Hello Kitty that bruises you, stills you as he ruts into you, his balls slapping against your sensitive, abused femininity. You’re losing everything; you’re losing yourself in him, in his manhood, in his desire and pleasure. Submitting all that you are to him, willingly giving over all that you have left of your being. Knowing it will be safe, knowing you will be taken care of.

And with that you come, and you come hard. You coax his orgasm, beckon it out with the one final clench of your pussy around him. You milk him dry, stars clouding your vision and the warmth of his hot spurts of cum filling you to the brim. Jungkook whines.

He loses it completely.

Babbling sets of incoherent words against your cheek, he kisses you there, drags his kisses down to your jaw and your neck, squeezing you and Hello Kitty in his arms as his cock stays sheathed inside of you.

Two things you do make out when you come down.

A string of pet names directed to you. A bunch of ‘baby’, ‘princess’, ‘little girl’, all held close by the prefix of ‘my’. Held as close as he holds you.

And something else entirely.

“I love being inside of you. Whether it’s with my fingers or my dick. I don’t care. I just love being inside of you. You feel like home.”

He strokes your hair, over and over, from the side like that. From the crown of your head, past the curve, down the side of your neck. All while kissing your skin. Tiny little kisses that soothe you, lull you into tranquility, prove you utterly wrong.

But you’re still delirious from your high. You don’t realize what he said.

You don’t realize that your home isn’t within the walls of that bookstore but within the arms of the man that holds you.

And you don’t realize that he feels the same way.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part three

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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loveshotzz · 11 months ago

Text

We’re supposed to be eating breakfast

older!steve x fem!reader an AIRWIY oneshot

summary: You wake up after your first sleep over at Steve’s house feeling bold.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ older!steve, smut, p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, mentions of past drinking, reader is wearing Steve’s baseball jersey but it’s not really described how it fits on readers body, no real descriptions of readers body.

authors note: this took me over a month to write with everything going on in my personal life, so I’m excited to finally give it to you. thank you all for your patience and encouragement to keep coming back on here every day despite me not writing as much as I used to and to keep me opening my word docs. this one was spurred my @palmtreesx3 brilliant mind and an idea that’s haunted me day and night. This takes place in the All I Really Want Is You universe, but can be read as a stand alone. Just know you’re wearing Steve’s personalized cubs jersey. :)

The harsh sounds of the coffee grinder is what wakes you up, but the golden rays of morning sunshine that leaks through the cracks in the blinds is what gets your eyes to open. Slow soft blinks, with fluttering lashes and brain still fuzzy from the kind of sleep that makes you temporarily forget what year it is, you need a moment to recognize the unfamiliar, much nicer surroundings.

You were in Steve’s room.

A smile you can’t contain spreads wide across your face, butterfly wings tickling at your rib cage. Stretching your still sleeping limbs, your body melts into the soft cushions of his mattress. The feathers that fill his pillows contour to your head perfectly, and the memories of the ways he had you pressed into it resurface, skin igniting with the ghost of his hands on your curves. Biting your bottom lip, the kind of nerves that you haven’t had since the Fourth of July make themselves known again, having never spent a morning with him at his home.

Rolling over, your face hits the cotton of his pillowcase that you’re not surprised is cold. Shamelessly you inhale the cedar and spice that still lingers on it, and the faint ache between your thighs, along with the clinks of glass you hear from his sink, reminds you that he’s just down stairs. It takes a little bit of willpower to leave the cozy cocoon you’ve found yourself in but the need to see him over powers the comfort of his duvet that feels like just the right amount of weight against your body.

Shuffling out of the covers, your bare feet hit the cold hard wood of his floors, a shiver crawling up your spine that you tell yourself is from the chill of the winter air that seeps through his unsealed windows, definitely not your nerves catching a glimpse of your naked body in his dresser mirror. The same mirror you’d seen him in almost five months ago.

Padding across his bedroom you wonder if he can hear your steps as you search for any sign of your clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around after an old bottle of red wine. The clean white color of his jersey catches in your gaze, the blue bold lettering that spells out his last name has your thighs pressing at the memory of your second date as it sits folded on top of his dresser.

The thought of how good he looked with it stretched across his broad shoulders, and the top two buttons undone, teasing the chest hair that your nails dragged through last night makes your skin warm. The praises he whispered in hot merlot against your lips, your neck, and between your legs is what gives you the confidence you need to slip it on instead.

The stairs creak under each step, but the popping grease of the bacon that fills his house with the smell of maple lets you go undetected. Familiar voices of who you’re learning are sportscasters, spill out from the small speaker on his phone that you know is propped up on the little plastic holder he always sets it on when he charges it. He mumbles something in response to the commentary under his breath, and you hear the beeping of the oven telling him it’s finished preheating.

Your cheeks hurt from how high they push up when you realize Steve’s making you breakfast.

A little shy from his affections already, your fingers wrap around the wood frame of the entryway with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. With his back to you, it gives you a perfect view of the way his white cotton undershirt stretches tight over his shoulder blades that move with every flick of his wrist, forearms flexing as he whisks whatever is in the bowl in front of him. Black sweats sit low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of his boxer briefs underneath, the font across the top of his waist band says Burberry, making your palms sweat. A personal favorite pair.

He turns his head to look at a replay of a game he missed in favor of spending time with you on his phone screen, still completely unaware of your presence. The new angle reveals the silver glasses he wore a few weeks ago in his office, dark chestnut and peppered hair sticking out wild at the ends, a mess you know was made by your hands.

“Seriously? Keep him on the bench.” He grumbles, shaking his head before bringing his attention back to the bowl.

You watch him for a few seconds longer, but his butt jiggling with the force of his whisking makes a giggle slip past your lips blowing your cover. He jumps at the noise no matter how sweet it is, meeting your eyes from over his shoulder. Steve gives you a smile that you’re learning is only reserved for you and sometimes Eddie, punching the air out of your lungs. Watching the way it only continues to grow across his stubble covered face makes your heart swell even more.

It’s only when his gaze finally lands on the only thing you’re wearing that the gold shimmering inside his eyes darken, a starless night lingering where the bottom hem of his jersey sits at the very tops of your thighs.

“Jesus honey, look at you.” The metal whisk hits the glass of the bowl with a loud clink as he turns around to really drink you in, “good morning to me.”

“I hope this is okay,” your voice comes out smaller than intended, suddenly self conscious you might have overstepped despite the way he watches you take your first steps into the kitchen like he wants to eat you alive.

“Okay?” His huffs out a breath like he’s wrecked, long fingers coming up to scratch at his jaw, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to wear anything else in my house ever again.”

You giggle again, and you swear you hear him groan because of it.

“I think we might be able to arrange something, a deal, an agreement of some sort.” you smirk, tapping your nails along the smooth black marble of his kitchen island, giving your hips a little extra sway with your slow steps.

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him as he leans back, chest puffing while he licks his full pink lips. They pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you smile shyly before you slip your hand into his palm, your eyes glaze over watching it disappear in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, he grins down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wrapping an arm around you to keep you from leaving, he lets go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his eyes turn soft with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, reminded of his dog who he knows is soaking up the sun outside, and the palm on your back squeezes you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he earns, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meet in the middle with eager enthusiasm, and your front teeth hit as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. When he’s met with the bare swell of your ass as he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

You hardly register him turning the oven off beside you.

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by a gasp when two thick fingers trace up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine with shaky knees.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows pinch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out with fluttering lashes, as he spreads you apart.

“You’re right, I don’t think breakfast is gonna be sweet enough for me.” He tuts, letting his middle finger push just a knuckle into your already greedy walls, and the soft moan that he gets from you has him leaking in his sweats. “You gonna help me with that, honey?”

Too lost in his teasing all you manage is a nod and a breathy ‘mmhmm’ looking up at him with big glassy eyes. He lets his lips ghost over yours, with a smirk tugging at the corners of them before spinning you around. Your palms land back on the cool marble of the kitchen island while both his hands wrap themselves firmly around the soft dough of your hips keeping his Jersey rucked up with them. He pulls your ass flush with his hips, letting you feel the hard length of him that begs to be released from the fleece confines of his pants against the ache in your core.

“This is what you wanted when you came down here lookin’ like this huh?” He asks with a low voice, hooking his thumbs under the bottom of his jersey. Lifting it higher up your back, he grinds against you while his eyes drink in all the soft dips of all your curves.

“Maybe,” you giggle a little breathy looking back over your shoulder at him with half lidded eyes.

His smile steals all the warm light from the room as he looks down at you with a cocked brow.

“I was trying to wait till after breakfast, which was hard waking up to you naked in my bed.” He can’t stop his heavy gaze from wandering to his last name covering the top of your back, unlocking something primal and possessive inside of him that he thought he’d lost forever. He wants you to leave it on, he’ll get it dry cleaned. “But honey, I can’t keep my hands off of you lookin’ like this.”

His palm feels heavy as it slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing at the fat with strong fingers spreading you apart a little before shoving his sweatpants half way down his hairy thighs. With hot cheeks, you flutter around nothing when the thickness of his cock springs free, standing at attention just for you. Somersaults in your stomach as you watch his tight grip pump himself a few times. Your hips wiggle in anticipation, whining when he teases more, gliding his tip through your slick, a small moan spilling from between your lips when he catches your clit.

“Always so needy for me,” he groans with a hint of disbelief, “fuck, what’d I do to deserve you?”

Steve doesn’t waste anymore time, slowly pushing in and the feeling of your walls wrapping around him while your body tries to accommodate the stretch has him chanting your name under his breath. Half way in, he regrips your hips a little rougher than before. His cock twitches watching your back bow, making his last name shine against the light while your nails scratch at the cool marble when he bottoms out.

Legs shaking, still sensitive from the night before, his hold on you tightens. You keen at the feeling of his thumbs rubbing small circles into your soft skin giving you time to adjust. It doesn’t take long for the initial sting subside, giving you the strength to rock your hips a little, a breathy sigh escaping you when it feels good.

“Yeah?” He hums, meeting your hips with his own hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Uh huh” You manage to utter as he pulls almost all the way out, a moan of his name long and drawn out bounces off the walls when he pushes back in letting you feel every inch.

“That’s my girl,” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you want to turn around and see it.

Your eyes meet from over your shoulder again as he starts to roll his hips, finding the perfect pace. The sound of skin slapping fills the quiet space between moans every time your ass jiggles from the force of it. That strand falls messily over his forehead when he looks down at you, brows pinching together and jaw going slack like seeing your face only intensified everything he was feeling. He holds your stare, and the snap of his hips starts to get rougher. Burying himself deep focusing on that spot, the one he’s only ever been able to find.

“Oh, oh- Steve. Right there -shit - oh my god.” Your head falls between your shoulders, when he starts to barely pull out anymore. The tip of him making your eyelashes flutter as he reaches the spot that had you screaming his name last night, over and over again.

His eyes wander the expanse of your back, keeping his pace while his hands slowly start to slide up your sides, pushing his jersey with it. He wants to see more of you, but his hips stutter hearing the noises he’s getting out of you with his last name plastered across your hunched shoulders.

“You look so good - shiiit, like this baby. My name on your back, letting me bend you over in my kitchen while I cook you breakfast.” He babbles as your walls start to flutter, already dangerously close to falling over the ledge, your body threatening to take him with you. “Wanna do this all the time, please, let me do this all the time, honey.”

“Whatever, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m - oh fuck, I’m yours.” Your words break off in a moan when he starts to circle his hips at the same time you push yours back and he holds you there, repeating the motion.

“Yeah? You’re mine?” Steve grunts, cock twitching at the thought of filling you up, and for the first time in over a decade he feels the need to mark what’s his in the most primal way he knows. The thought of you round with his kid brings a new kind of intensity to the way he starts to fuck you, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. “Tell me again.”

“Mmmhmm, always yours.” You whine, feeling yourself reaching the edge. Steve leans forward, somehow going deeper. Long thick fingers find their way between your thighs, where the two of you connect and he starts rubbing messy circles on your clit, pushing you off the cliff.

You flutter and squeeze around him hard enough to almost push him out, but he continues rutting his hips fighting against it, white spots explode behind your lids, his name falling out of your mouth broken in a gasp and a shudder.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s it.” He groans, watching the way your forehead hits the cold marble with another tremor that makes his cock twitch. “Gonna cum baby, let me cum inside, need it, please.”

He can make out the nod of your head, and with the little strength you have left, you push yourself further back encouraging him more. He knows you're on the pill, he’s seen you take it, but right now in the heat of it all, a small part of him hopes you missed a day. He blames the blue letters on his Jersey staring him right in the face, or the way you coat his cock with the remains of what he did to you every time you suck him right back in.

He pushes himself deep enough to make you fall forward a little, a low groan rumbling deep from his chest as he spills hot inside of you the rock of his hips slowing down as he falls apart. His forehead hits your back, with one last lazy thrust, and you can feel the heat of his breath as he pants to catch his breath. You wish the fabric of his jersey wasn’t so thick when he plants a kiss between your shoulder blades, before slowly pulling himself back up.

“Yeah, it’s official. This is absolutely the only thing you’re allowed to wear here.”

#my writing #all i really want is you #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut

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1-800-local-slut · 9 months ago

Text

House of Memories (Spencer's Version)

Spencer Reid x Black! Fem! FBI! Reader

A look at your life with Spencer through the eyes of his team mates

Warnings: none really, just fluff, the team being observant, adult objects (condoms, alcohol, etc.,), not a warning but a note: reader isn't in the BAU but she works in the FBI, through Emily's POV

“I wasn’t expecting an invite from you, Reid. Thanks for having me over.” The front door to the apartment opened. Emily was holding a bottle of cheap wine that she grabbed from the liquor store down the street when she realized she forgot to bring a house gift. It was a close call too, she was literally driving past it when she realized and had to make a very hasty u-turn.

“It’s no problem, thank you for coming! Derek, Garcia and Hotch are in the living room, Rossi’s in the bathroom and JJ’s coming late. Her loss though, I think she’d really enjoy Interstellar and if she comes late I know she’s going to complain. Come in, just take your shoes off if you don’t mind.” Emily nodded, after Spencer gave her a light side hug and accepted the bottle from her.

He wore a white tee-shirt, pajama bottoms, and smelt fresh. His hair was damp as well, like he’d showered a few hours ago but his hair is so thick that it takes a minute for it to dry. She noticed his light shrug, as if it wasn’t his preference but he would take it anyways.

Ghosting through the threshold, she bent down and slipped off her boots. She heard light chatter, music, smelt a vanilla and sea salt (it was a rough guess) candle burning, and heard the clatter of pots in the kitchen.

She couldn’t help it, her analytical mind working before she could stop it. Sometimes she would find herself profiling strangers even when it was rude. And profiling your coworker who invited you into his home was very rude.

Spencer’s shoes were thrown on the floor, one knocked on its side but still close together. As if it was an attempt on his end to be some sort of neat. Pairs of heels, pumps, boots were lined on the shoe rack but after doing a quick count, she noticed something. There were far more womens shoes than there were mens shoes. About six pairs of men's shoes to a 10 women’s shoe ratio.

Aaron, David, Derek make three, and the other three were clearly Spencer’s. Pen’s shoes obviously were one of those female shoes. The bright purple heels sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the browns, blacks, and deep reds of the female shoes.

‘Enough Emily, stop being rude.’

“Your house is beautiful Spencer.” She couldn’t help but look around in slight awe. She wasn’t expecting Spencer’s house to be so…neat? No, that sounds mean. Neat in a way that didn’t seem like it was all Spencer. Sure Spencer’s little unique touches were sprinkled about the apartment and she was still standing at the doorway.

There were pictures of nature hanging on the wall, of a young black woman standing in front of a large pond far from the camera. She wore a pink baseball cap and had her hands flung out as if to emphasize how big the pond was. Who was that? A secret lover? She looked familiar, like a face Emily had seen in passing.

“Oh thanks. I just moved in a few months ago so not everything is fully set up.” Spencer called from the kitchen, and there were three clicks from the stove. Then he slid out, wiping his hands on a towel. As she walked through the house, she noticed more.

Potted plants with lush green leaves, knitted plant holders hanging from the ceiling, a red and dark blue patterned rug on the floor in the hall. From where she stood, she could see there was a small dining area. A nice wooden table, with papers and files scattered all over.

She found her way to the living room and saw her coworkers engaged in whispers on the couch. More papers and files were on the small tables on either side of the couch, a contrast to the neatness of the rest of the house.

“Hey everybody, what’s up?” Emily asked. Heads snapped towards her, and she noticed Penelope’s eyes curved up in a mischievous grin.

“Hi! Come sit, come sit.” Penelope motioned next to her, Derek and Rossi sliding over to make room for her.

“Did you make it in okay?” Hotch asked and Emily nodded while she slipped onto the brown leather sofa. A dark purple hand knitted black was thrown over the back of it. Did Spencer take up knitting or was this just a nice purchase?

Spencer plopped down into the brown leather armchair and rested his feet on the pouf in front of him. Emily noticed how spotless the glass coffee table in front of them was.

The whole house was ridiculously clean. The wooden floors sparkled, the carpets meticulously vacuumed, the TV sparkled and the speakers next to the TV were flawlessly dusted. The large oak bookshelf that was up against the wall that was closest to the kitchen was also dusted and the books neatly organized.

When would Spencer have time to clean his house so thoroughly? They were on a mission all of last week, got back two nights ago and have been at work since then. Sure, it’s Spencer he could just be very clean but the way things sparkled, it was clear they were cleaned merely a few hours ago.

When they did go home it was late at night and they were back at work early the next day. Did he spend his whole Saturday afternoon scrubbing his floors, and preparing to cook for them? Spencer wasn’t the type to have a housekeeper, especially when he does his work all over and you can’t exactly leave FBI documents in the eye of the eye of a random house keeper.

“Sorry about the paperwork, I still have to set up my study. I have to put up my desk and everything.” Everyone voiced a consolation, some variation of ‘I don’t mind’ or ‘you should see my place’.

“Not the handyman?” Derek teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Spencer chuckled and shook his head. Spencer’s been smiling a lot more lately.

“I like keeping myself out of the hospital. Did you know every 45 minutes a piece of furniture falls on someone, and 25,000 people a year are treated at the hospital for a furniture related incident?” Spencer rattled off, emphasizing the numbers with his fingers.

Before anyone else could say anything, the doorbell rang. Spencer glanced back at the door, before he sprung to his feet with enthusiasm like he was expecting Emily and Penelope exchanged looks, giggling while Rossi lightly rolled his eyes.

“Of course he knows that. Also, did any of you know that Spencer moved to a new place?” Derek asked.

“Well I knew. I know where all of you live. But it was very considerate of him to invite us over.” Hotch nodded, taking a sip of a bottle of water. Not Spencer’s usual brand but she did notice a switch some time ago. From Purelife to Poland Spring.

“Did you see the coat? Hanging by the door rack?” Penelope whispered, motioning for everyone to come in closer. There was a devilish twinkle in her eyes, her brain working overtime.

“What, you think he has some… extra company? A secret lover?” Rossi chuckled. Of course she noticed, but she just thought it was Penelope’s.

“Maybe! Do you think?” Penelope asked excitedly, her hands flapping around with enthusiasm. Oh Penelope, ever the romantic. Derek giggled next to Penelope. He was lightly smacked by Penelope as a rebuttal and he giggled as if the slaps tickled him and they heard Spencer’s reapproaching foot steps along with an extra pair of heels.

They all turned, eager to see who it was. Would it be the woman in the photo? His mom? Someone else?

“JJ!” Emily exclaimed when the final member of their team came in. She twisted around in her seat, happy to see her friend. JJ wasn’t able to make it on their last assignment so it had been a minute since they’d seen her. For people who practically live together, spending almost every moment together while at work was normal. They’d all fallen into a natural balance of being around each other. Of course they’d missed JJ while she was out sick.

“Hi!” She held her arms open for hugs, while the entire team voiced their hellos.

“Sorry I’m late, the grocery store was ridiculous. You wouldn’t believe what I saw, some lady's ex boyfriend came there and she called the cops on him like right there in the store. Apparently, he gave her something on purpose. She got on the speaker and called him ‘Dirty Dick David’. And then they fired her for playing with the mic that way!” She told her story while passing out hugs and then plopped down in the opposite arm chair across from the one Spencer was sitting in before.

“What?” Spencer laughed while he sat back down.

“Right there it happened.” The whole team was laughing and Emily remembered that this was why she got along with her team so well. The easy laughter was so simple and refreshing.

“Woah, right there is insane! I guess she was sick of him.” Emily leaned slightly into Penny, allowing herself more comfort

“Imagine being at work and your ex who purposely infected you with something shows up to both you? I’d be pissed too.” Derek chuckled.

“I’ve been through three wives and never got a reaction like that, Dirty Dick David certainly had it coming.” Rossi added before they all laughed even harder.

Then there was a loud ringing noise. Spencer’s phone was going off and he patted himself down, lifting himself up checking to see if he was sitting on it. Then he got up, his face making a tiny expression like he could finally recall.

“I’ll be right back guys.” He ran into the kitchen and Penelope pulled everyone into a huddle.

“Okay, here’s what you missed JJ, you ready?”

“I’m ready?” She asked with an arch eyebrow and a nervous smile.

“There’s a bunch of lady stuff around here, like a coat and I don’t know if you saw the shoes but there are a lot of lady shoes. Rossi was in the bathroom and saw a bunch of lady stuff too, like a special face cleanser but he didn’t wanna snoop. I think he should’ve gone for it but whatever. Also I don’t know if you know but I know that Spencer doesn’t cook.

His house is also really clean like really really clean like it was just clean but when would he have gotten the time to clean it? I mean we got off work like three hours ago. Running theories? Spencer has a housekeeper, a secret girlfriend, or his moms visiting. Got it? Okay, got it.”

JJ blinked after Garcia’s rapid rundown, Derek nodding like he was able to keep up with that and Hotch all around looked displeased.

“We are guests in Spencer’s home, don’t go looking through his stuff. Maybe Spencer likes that stuff, that’s not any of our concern.” He frowned with a crease in his eyebrows.

“Yeah Garcia, besides if Spence did get a girlfriend then I think that’s great for him.” JJ chuckled and Derek rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m back! I picked up the shrimp and some wine. I also got some beers if you want any. The coolers are for me, you can have one but don’t take any of the pink ones. I like those ones.” A familiar voice sounded through the house.

The sound of socks hitting the floor padded through the house and a young woman walked in. The woman from the photo more specifically. Her hair was in long braids that curled around her waist. She was gorgeous, a red scarf was wrapped around her neck to protect her from the chilly winter air. More specifically she was familiar.

More specifically she was from a different team. More specifically a member of the HRT. The Hostage Rescue Unit. They’ve seen Spencer speaking with her a lot. They’ve teased him for their closeness multiple times, and knew they were a bit closer. But Emily didn’t know they were such close friends. For her to just walk into his home this way.

No offense to Spencer but when Emily said she was hot, she meant she was hot. Like she just stepped out of a magazine. And she never thought Spencer would have it in him to pull. Spencer was certainly nothing to sneeze at but my god was this woman attractive.

She was making her way through the house, to the kitchen lightly waddling. She held a bag of groceries and as if she could feel all the eyes on her she turned.

“Oh hi! I’m sorry, I ran out to the grocery store. I didn’t realize we ran out of shrimp but the food will be done soon.” She beamed at them and put one of her hands on her hips. And Emily did as profilers do. She profiled even if she didn’t truly mean too. She was wearing pajama pants, and a puffy coat that was zipped open to reveal a white tank top. Above all she radiated joy, confidence and comfort.

“It’s nice to see you again.” Hotch cleared his throat, and she nodded at the members of the BAU.

“You got the shrimp?” Spencer called, coming out of the kitchen, slipping his phone into the pocket of his pants. He came up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She instinctively angled her head to his and pushed herself up onto her tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips.

Penelope was on the verge of exploding, her mouth open in a wide grin. She let out an excited squeal. The two agents jumped upon hearing the high pitched noise and everyone on the couch turned to face her.

“What?! Oh my god, when were you gonna tell us?!” Penelope asked, bounding up from the couch. Spencer looked confused above all as Penelope raced towards him and his apparent girlfriend.

“I didn’t think I had to, we weren’t exactly shy about it.” Spencer laughed as he looked at Penelope basically bouncing up and down in front of him. She giggled and Penelope paused.

“Dude we thought you were just friends?” Derek questioned from the couch. Spencer shook his head, looking more and more shocked by the second.

“So how long has this been going on?” Emily asked with a laugh. She had to laugh! How could she not be happy for Spencer? He looked so happy, he literally hadn’t stopped smiling since she came into the door and they kissed.

“Like a year? I mean, I know we jumped the gun with moving, but my lease was up and I decided that this would work and I couldn’t find anywhere close enough to work. We decided to go for it.” Spencer added, scratching the back of his neck.

“You guys really had no idea? I mean I tell you guys that we go out every weekend, I have a picture of her on my desk. We literally come to work together everyday.” Spencer exclaimed, motioning around with his hands.

“I don't see you that often at work, they probably don’t really notice those things.” She rationalized to him and rubbed a hand over his chest. He never moved his hand from around her waist.

It all made sense. The candles littered around the house, the small basket of yarn and needles on the floor next to one of the arm chairs. The food even smelt too seasoned to be like anything Spencer could cook, the photos that Emily was just now realizing were taken of Spencer. The romance novel that Emily saw sitting on the glass coffee table. How spotless the entire house was. The shoes, the coat, Emily was just mad at herself for not recognizing the photo.

“Well. Way to go Reid, I didn’t know you had it in you.” She smirked at Derek’s remark and stood on her toes again. She whispered something in Spencer’s ear and he cackled with his mouth open in shock.

He was turning a bashful shade of red and his voice squeaked as he sent her away.

“I’ll be finished with your food soon, you guys.” Trailing into the kitchen, Spencer glanced over as if to check if she needed anything.

“Oh gosh, you didn’t have to cook for us! Thank you so much!” Emily exclaimed, realizing that she was just sitting there like a fish with her mouth wide open.

“Let her cook, why not enjoy dinner and a movie?” Rossi joked. It seemed like the shock had dissipated and JJ giggled, her blonde hair shining like the Sun and Emily noted how her entire face lit up like a star.

“Honey, can you come help me with these groceries?” Spencer nodded, following her into the kitchen. They watched, waiting to watch them fully go into the kitchen. Then like little girls at a sleepover, they leaned back into their huddle.

“Wow!”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” Hotch tried to keep the peace before his team of impatient agents ran rampant. Emily herself felt like she needed answers and she needed them now.

“Did you see the way he looked at her? They’re so cute, I had a feeling when he came to work that one time smelling like perfume and wearing the same clothes but they were like all up on each other.” Penelope whispered excitedly.

“I always knew opposites attract. You know they make a handsome couple too.” The excitement died down for a second and everyone had to look at Rossi. Who even used that phrasing anymore?

“You’re so old, Rossi.” JJ giggled and Hotch shook his head. Rossi smiled playfully, the way he always did when they made fun of him for being ancient.

“What do they even talk about? I mean sure they have stuff in common but for a whole year? I wasn’t expecting that!” Emily exclaimed.

“Reid’s never short on things to talk about.” Derek teased and Penelope swatted him again.

“I mean I noticed he’d been a bit happier but I wasn’t expecting this! I guess you just never know.” JJ added in, glancing over to the kitchen to make sure the two weren’t standing right there.

“We can find out what they talk about.” No one wanted to admit it but they wanted to snoop so bad. So bad that when Penelope suggested it the best thing to do was to stop talking and be extra quiet so they could hear. Even Hotch, slowly reclined.

Over the clatter of pans, the soft clinking of bottles and things being put away, and dishes being taken out they heard her voice.

“Emily brought us some wine. Pink.” Spencer’s voice broke through and Emily tensed up. Oh god, what if they hated the wine?

“Oh my favorite. I’ve always liked that Emily. If it wasn’t for you, I’d go for her.” She laughed and plopped something into what sounded like a liquid.

Derek made some funny eyebrows at Emily and Emily felt her cheeks heat up. JJ and Penelope both grabbed each other to stifle a laugh. As bad as it was to listen to your teammate and his girlfriend's conversation, they couldn’t stop.

“Aw babe don’t pout.” Then a kissing noise.

“There’s that smile. Also I picked up some condoms, we were down to six and you know we go through those like crazy. Speaking of which, I was thinking, do we really need those? I mean I’m on the pill and at the rate we go we’d save more money just not having sex. To be honest we spend a bit too much money on that stuff anyways and I don’t want to replace another bed frame. I like this one and we literally just got it. That or we just need to stop having sex so often. The call is totally yours but that bitch who works at the front cashier keeps looking at me funny everytime she sees me walk up.” It took a moment for everyone to process what she was talking about. It really took a moment. An identical frown spread over both Rossi and Hotch, and Derek had to put his fist in his mouth to avoid cackling.

Oh god, this was an awful idea. Now there was just awkward silence. None of them could say anything even if they wanted to.

“So my options are death, death or going raw?” Spencer whined immediately. Emily focused her eyes on something else instantly, the patterned carpet on the floor, the TV that was showing different scenery as it was in rest mode.

“Oh my god, you are so dramatic! You’re not going to die if we don’t have sexy every day.” The sound of a spoon clattering down and then she broke out into a fit of giggles.

“But how do you know!” He whined again.

“Like I said, it's your choice. It doesn’t really matter to me, I’m just sick of always having to go to the store. And you’re squeezing my ribs.”

“I like your idea. Besides, we have abortion money.” She gasped softly and then broke into light laughter. JJ’s jaw dropped open and Derek snorted before he covered his nose. Of everything that was expected it wasn’t that.

“That’s awful, baby.” She scolded and Emily got a mental image of the two. Was she standing in front of the stove, the smell of food wafting through the house, Spencer standing behind her with arms wrapped firmly around her? If Emily wasn’t so uncomfortable right now her mouth would be watering. It would also warm her heart to hear how happy her friend was.

“I’m sorry.” He joined in on the laughter.

“Oh my god we’re being awful host! Plate up the soup and I’ll pour the wine.”

Once the two came back out, it was hard to even look at Spencer knowing that he had apparently helped break a bed frame. Even if he was holding trays of the most mouth watering gumbo.

“Who wants to watch Interstellar?”

#black reader #x reader #x black reader #fem reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x black reader #criminal minds #bau team

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keehomania · 2 months ago

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nct jaehyun with big tit reader pls…

JEONG JAEHYUN (정재현) — TWISTED (18+)

✧

the apartment was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the air conditioning and the rhythmic sweep of the mop across the floor. you moved with practiced precision, your hands gliding over every surface with meticulous care. a flick of your wrist here, a light dusting there—small adjustments that hardly seemed worth noting, but they were. every movement had a purpose, even if it was hidden beneath the veneer of tidying up.

the soft afternoon light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. you wiped down the windowsill, straightened the framed photo of you and jaehyun on the shelf with a smug glint in your eyes, and smoothed out the creases in the bedsheets. the apartment, as always, was immaculate, the kind of clean that only came from constant upkeep. but today, the cleaning wasn’t really about cleanliness. it was about preparation.

you paused by the desk, fingers brushing over the cool surface. between the neatly arranged pencil holders and stacks of paperwork, you slipped in a small camera, positioning it just right. a subtle angle, nothing too obvious, but enough to capture every corner of the room. a second camera followed, this one hidden in the far corner, tucked away in the shadows where it wouldn’t be noticed. satisfied, you moved on.

under the bed, you placed a voice recorder, pressing it firmly against the wood, ensuring it was out of sight. there was no room for mistakes, not today. finally, a tiny bug nestled into the corner of the room, blending seamlessly with the décor. you stepped back to admire your work, a slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips. everything was in place.

with a slow, deliberate movement, you tightened the belt around your dress, the soft leather pulling snug against your waist. the fabric draped perfectly, as it always did, every detail considered, every piece of you in control. you reached for the bottle of perfume on the vanity, its familiar scent filling the air as you dabbed it on your wrists. not your favorite scent—his. the one that made him lean in just a little closer, his breath catching for just a second longer.

you adjusted the microphone headset over your ears, the cool metal brushing against your skin. a sip of wine followed, the rich, dark liquid swirling in the glass before you took a slow, savoring taste. the tension in your muscles melted away, replaced by something else, something darker. not stress, not weariness, not betrayal. no, none of those things. what filled you now was a quiet thrill, a heat that coiled low in your stomach, simmering beneath the surface.

without a second glance, you made your way downstairs, the soft click of your heels echoing in the hallway. the receptionist barely looked up as you approached, her hand sliding instinctively to the desk drawer. you slipped her a bundle of cash—thick, well-prepared, without a word exchanged. she nodded, her hand moving to unlock the door behind her. you stepped inside the dimly lit security room, the soft hum of the monitors filling the space around you.

you settled into the chair, your fingers tracing the edge of the wine glass as you watched the screens flicker to life. one by one, the angles of the apartment room came into view, each camera displaying its silent feed. and there he was, as you knew he would be. jaehyun, standing in the corner, his body pressed against someone else. a woman, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms clinging to his back. their lips moved in a frantic, fevered kiss, bodies entwined as if the world outside ceased to exist.

your eyes lingered on the screen, a slow, satisfied smile creeping across your face as you sipped your wine. typical. the scent of your perfume must have hit him, because his movements stilled for just a moment, nostrils flaring as he pulled back from the kiss. but it didn’t matter. even now, with another woman in his arms, your presence haunted him. and that, more than anything, sent a wave of satisfaction through you.

he pressed her harder against the wall, his fingers tangling in her hair, lips grazing her neck. but you didn’t flinch. you didn’t feel the sting of jealousy, didn’t feel your heart shatter at the sight. instead, there was a sick, twisted pleasure in watching him repeat the same motions he did with you. It should have hurt—should have torn you apart—but it didn’t. if anything, it thrilled you.

there was something captivating in watching his desire, watching him pour himself into someone else, knowing full well that no matter how much he took from her, it would never compare to what you gave. he could try, he could chase that feeling, but it would never be the same. not without you. so you let him have his time. let him indulge. and as you sipped your wine, watching the scene unfold before you, you knew that he would always come back. because no one else would ever match what you had.

the security room was dim, the glow of the monitors casting an eerie light over jaehyun’s sharp features. he sat in the worn leather chair, eyes glued to the flickering screens before him. the scent hit him first, thick and sweet like spun sugar, relentless in its sweetness, clinging to every breath he took. your perfume. it was unmistakable, coating the air with a syrupy heaviness that curled around him like a possessive hand. he grunted softly, his fingers gripping the arms of the chair, knuckles whitening as he inhaled deeply, letting the scent overwhelm his senses.

he knew it too well. the fragrance that lingered on your skin after a night out, the same one that would pull him toward you, that made his breath hitch when he buried his face in your neck. but tonight, the thought gnawed at him. was it for him? the way it used to be? or for your lover, the one you disappeared with after slipping out of the apartment when you thought he wasn’t looking?

the lines blurred in his mind, the sharpness between you and him, between you and whoever else had stolen your time, stolen what should have been his. his jaw tightened as he leaned closer to the screen, eyes narrowing. you had set this up. he knew it the moment he stepped into the room, knew it from the way the cameras were positioned. it was so you—calculated, precise, cruel in a way only he could appreciate. he wanted to hate it, to hate you, but instead, a twisted admiration crawled up his spine. this was your game, and he was only too willing to play.

his eyes roamed over the grainy image as you finally appeared on the screen, your figure unmistakable even through the static. you stepped into view, your dress clinging to your body like it was made for you, and jaehyun’s breath hitched again, the scent of your perfume still assaulting his senses. his hand, almost unconsciously, moved to his lap, the tension in his body easing slightly as he spread his legs wider, trying to alleviate the growing ache. but you weren’t alone.

his teeth grazed his bottom lip as he watched, every muscle in his body going rigid as a man stepped into the frame behind you. tall, unfamiliar, hands that gripped you too familiarly, lips that ghosted over the curve of your neck with an urgency that made jaehyun’s skin prickle. the man’s mouth moved against your skin, bruising and licking, leaving marks that jaehyun knew too well—the kind that staked a claim. his pulse quickened, his body reacting before his mind could catch up, a satisfied hiss slipping from his lips. he hated it, the way he was drawn to the sight of you with someone else. hated the way his body responded, the way his fingers twitched to touch the screen, to feel connected to something—anything—that involved you.

dd it feel the same? did the man know what you liked, the way jaehyun did? the way your breath caught when lips hovered over your collarbone, the way your back arched when fingers tangled in your hair. the possessiveness that burned in his chest was primal, instinctual. you were his, even if the world around him screamed otherwise. and then, just for a second—a fleeting moment that almost slipped past him—you paused. your head tilted, and your eyes, dark and knowing, flicked upward. they locked onto the camera. jaehyun’s breath hitched. you knew.

for a moment too long, your gaze didn’t waver. that smirk—the one he had memorized, the one that had undone him more times than he cared to count—curled at the edges of your lips. you weren’t just aware of him. you were showing him. every movement was deliberate, every arch of your neck as the man kissed your skin, every glance toward the lens, every shift in your posture. it was all for him. the realization hit him with the force of a train. this wasn’t about the man with you. he was just a prop, a tool in your hands to provoke the reaction you wanted.

jaehyun exhaled slowly, the tension in his body turning into something else—something deeper, darker. his lips parted, and he muttered under his breath, barely above a whisper, “that’s my girl.” the words felt raw, scraping against his throat, filled with a kind of pride that he hadn’t realized he still held. you knew him too well. better than anyone. you played him like an instrument, each note of your performance calculated to draw out exactly what you wanted from him. and he couldn’t help but admire it, as twisted as it was.

he leaned back in the chair, legs still spread wide, his hand dragging down his face as he let out a slow, steadying breath. his eyes never left the screen, watching as the man pulled you closer, his hands disappearing into your hair, mouth claiming yours in a kiss that should have made jaehyun see red. but he didn’t. he couldn’t. because in that moment, he knew it didn’t matter. none of them mattered.

the way the man touched you, the way he kissed you, it would never come close to the way jaehyun did. he knew you in ways that no one else ever could. you might share your body with someone else, but your mind, your games—they were all his. you left breadcrumbs, and he followed them willingly, drawn into the labyrinth you’d created. another smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched you, his girl, wrapped in another man’s arms, knowing full well you’d never belong to anyone else but him. he would let you play your game, let you dance with whoever you wanted, but in the end, it would always come back to the two of you.

he adjusted his seat, the sick heat of satisfaction settling deep within him. he couldn’t look away from the screen, even if he wanted to. and why would he? you were performing for him, after all. “knows me so well,” he murmured again, his voice a low, reverent sigh as he let his hand drop to his side. his eyes darkened, pupils dilating as he watched you, watched the man touch you, watched you steal glances at the camera. always for him.

the apartment was quiet again, but this time the silence was different—thicker, charged, as if the air itself was holding its breath. you felt it in the way your pulse raced beneath your skin, in the subtle tremor in your fingers as you stood in the middle of the room. he wasn’t far behind. you could hear him, the soft sound of his footsteps growing louder, closer, until the door clicked open behind you. you didn’t turn around. you didn’t need to. you could feel him watching you, his gaze heavy and possessive, the tension between you winding tighter with every passing second.

jaehyun didn’t say a word as he moved closer, the heat of his body pressing against your back. his hands slid around your waist, fingers grazing your hips before traveling upward, the soft fabric of your dress bunching under his touch. his lips found the side of your neck, the same spot where the man’s had been just hours earlier, but jaehyun’s kiss was rougher, more demanding. he bit down lightly, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips, and you could feel him smirk against your skin.

“you must’ve seen us, yeah?” your voice was breathless, words slipping out between shallow pants as his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him. he answered with a low, guttural groan, the sound vibrating against your neck as his mouth moved lower, assaulting your skin with hot, open-mouthed kisses. his breath was ragged, uneven, and you felt the hardness of him pressing against the back of your thighs through his boxers, straining against the fabric. the memory of what he had seen—of you with another man—was still fresh in his mind, fueling every touch, every kiss.

jaehyun’s hand slipped under your dress, fingers trailing down to your panties, and without hesitation, he pushed them aside, his fingers finding the wet heat between your legs. his thumb brushed over your clit, slow at first, teasing, before he began to rub in tight circles, his pace quickening as he leaned into your ear. “every bit of it,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “you gave it to him real good, baby.”

a smirk tugged at your lips as you twisted your fingers into his hair, yanking his head back just enough to force him to look at you. his lips were swollen, glistening with spit, and his eyes—those dark, dangerous eyes—were filled with lust and something darker, something unhinged. you’d always loved that look, the way it made your heart pound, the way it made your core ache for him.

without warning, you slapped him hard across the face, the sharp crack of skin against skin reverberating through the room. the force of it left his cheek red, and the sting of your palm lingered in the air. jaehyun’s lips parted in a shocked gasp, his pupils blown wide as the lust in his eyes deepened into something feral. his hand flexed at your waist, and for a moment, you thought he might lose control completely. instead, he groaned, a low, broken sound that made your stomach clench, and you could feel his cock twitch against you, his boxers impossibly tight. “almost like you expected less of me,” you purred, your voice dripping with satisfaction as you traced the red mark on his cheek, watching the way his breath hitched at your touch. you could feel the power shift between you, feel the way his body reacted to your every word, your every movement.

he didn’t respond with words. instead, his hands moved to your shoulders, shoving you back onto the bed with enough force to make the mattress creak. you let out a sharp moan as your body hit the sheets, your back arching as jaehyun climbed on top of you, his weight pressing you down. he grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head as his lips trailed down the curve of your neck, past your collarbone, before they found their way to your breasts.

he groaned as his mouth latched onto one of your nipples, sucking hard, his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud. his other hand cupped your breast, squeezing, kneading, as if he couldn’t get enough of them. “love these so much,” he murmured against your skin, his voice muffled by the fullness of your breast in his mouth. “the other girls, they don’t have ones like this.”

your breath hitched, the praise sending a wave of heat through your body, making your knees weak. but before you could process it, jaehyun released your wrists and leaned up, his hand moving with brutal swiftness as it collided with your cheek in a stinging slap that made your head snap to the side. the sharp pain bloomed across your skin, and instead of recoiling, you moaned, the sound desperate and raw, your body arching toward him in a way that begged for more. “i don’t get to play with them like this,” he smirked, his thumb brushing over your reddened cheek before trailing back down to your chest, his hands claiming your breasts again as if they belonged to him.

your thighs clenched around his waist, hips bucking up against him, desperate for friction, for relief from the ache that had been building inside you from the moment he touched you. his name slipped from your lips in a breathless whisper, a plea that made his smirk widen as he pressed his body down against yours, his erection rubbing against your bare thigh through his boxers. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a hunger that felt primal, unhinged. the kiss was messy, spit slicking your lips as his hands moved down your body, fingers curling around the waistband of your panties before he yanked them off in one rough motion. his fingers returned to your core, probing and rubbing, and every touch was calculated to make you squirm, to elicit the moans he’d missed on camera.

you broke the kiss to gasp for air, your head tipping back as he slid two fingers inside of you, curling them just right, hitting the spot that made you see stars. your legs trembled around him, every nerve in your body lit up with need as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit in time with each thrust.

“god, jae,” you gasped, your fingers gripping his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan. He loved when you pulled his hair, loved the sting of pain mixed with pleasure. “yeah,” he grunted, his voice low and ragged as he looked up at you, his fingers never slowing. “you like it when i watch, don’t you? see how desperate you are for them.”

you smirked, your body arching off the bed, chasing the pleasure. “i like it when you can’t stop yourself,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire. “when you’re so addicted to me, you can’t even think straight.” his eyes darkened, the intensity of his gaze sending a shiver through you as he pulled his fingers from you, leaving you empty and aching. in one swift motion, he shoved his boxers down, his erection springing free, hard and desperate for you. he didn’t hesitate, grabbing your hips and yanking you down the bed before positioning himself between your legs.

he hovered above you for a moment, eyes locked onto yours, the air thick with tension, before he thrust into you, filling you in one hard stroke that knocked the breath from your lungs. you cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as your body adjusted to the sudden fullness, the burn of the stretch only intensifying the pleasure. he groaned, his head falling to your shoulder as he set a brutal pace, his hips slamming into yours with a desperation that bordered on madness. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, of his ragged breaths and your breathless moans, of the bed creaking under the force of his thrusts.

he buried his face in your neck, biting down hard enough to bruise as he fucked you with reckless abandon, his body shaking with the force of it. you clung to him, your legs wrapped around his waist, your body moving in perfect sync with his, lost in the intensity of the moment, lost in the feeling of him inside of you. jaehyun’s hands moved down to your chest, gripping your breasts with a hunger that made your breath hitch. his fingers dug into the soft flesh, squeezing, kneading, his eyes glued to the way they moved with each hard thrust of his hips. he was obsessed, completely entranced, as if he couldn’t get enough of the way they filled his hands, the way your nipples stood hard and ready for him.

his mouth descended on one of them, his lips hot and wet as he sucked greedily, swirling his tongue around your sensitive nipple before biting down gently, just enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure through your body. you moaned, your back arching off the bed as his teeth grazed your skin, leaving a red mark in his wake. he groaned against your breast, his hand moving to cup the other one, his thumb flicking over your nipple, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to your core.

“fuck, i love these,” he repeated between kisses, his voice thick with lust, muffled by your skin as he continued to lavish attention on your chest. “they’re so fucking perfect, baby. none of the others—” he paused, his teeth grazing your nipple again, harder this time. “—none of the other girls have tits like this.” you smirked at his words, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you threaded your fingers through his hair, yanking him up to meet your gaze. his lips were wet, spit running down his chin, his eyes wild with need, the dark desire in them so potent it made your stomach flip.

“good,” you panted, your voice breathless but teasing, “because they don’t deserve them.” his cock twitched inside you at that, and you knew you had him. he liked when you reminded him, when you made him see that no matter who he was with, no matter what he did, you were the one he couldn’t let go of. you were the one who owned him.

you ran your hands down his chest, your nails scratching lightly against his skin, leaving faint red lines in their wake. he groaned at the sensation, his hips stuttering slightly as he thrust into you harder, deeper, chasing the release he knew he’d only find with you. “i saw you, you know,” you whispered, your voice thick with a twisted kind of admiration. “you fucked her so well, jae. i was impressed.”

his breath hitched at your praise, and you could feel the way his body responded to your words, the way his cock swelled inside you, twitching with need. his grip on your breasts tightened, his hips slamming into yours with renewed force as if he was trying to prove something, trying to show you that no matter who he fucked, it was you that he belonged to. “yeah?” he groaned, his voice low and rough as he leaned down, his mouth hovering over yours. “you liked watching me fuck her?”

you moaned in response, your legs tightening around his waist as you lifted your hips to meet his thrusts. “yeah,” you breathed, your lips brushing against his, teasing him. “but you know what i like even more?” he growled, his hand slipping from your chest to your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck as he pressed his lips to your ear. “what?”

“i like knowing that no matter how good it was, no matter how hard you fucked her, you always come back to me,” you whispered, your voice dripping with confidence, with satisfaction. he groaned at your words, his hand tightening around your throat just enough to make your breath catch. “fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “you’re the only one. no one else feels like this.”

he leaned down, his mouth crashing against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a wet, messy tangle of spit and need. you could taste him—taste the desperation, the hunger that only you could satisfy. his lips were swollen, raw, and you kissed him harder, your fingers digging into his hair, pulling him closer. he pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your lips as he looked down at you, his eyes dark and filled with a primal kind of lust. “you like it when i fuck them, huh?” he babbled through a haze of lust, his hips slamming into yours again, his pace relentless. “you like knowing that no matter how good they are, they’ll never be you.”

you moaned in response, your nails digging into his back as your body trembled beneath him. “yes,” you panted, your voice barely more than a whisper, “because they’ll never be enough for you.” jaehyun’s hand moved from your throat to your breast again, squeezing it roughly as he leaned down, his lips trailing down your neck to your chest. he sucked on your nipple, his tongue swirling around it before pulling it between his teeth and biting down, hard enough to make you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

“god, i love these tits,” he groaned, his voice muffled by your skin. “could fuck them all day.” your legs trembled, the intensity of his words and the roughness of his touch pushing you closer to the edge. you could feel the coil of pleasure tightening in your stomach, ready to snap at any moment. “then do it,” you teased, your voice breathless as you arched into him. “fuck me like you fuck them, jaehyun. show me.”

his eyes flashed with something dark and devious, and without warning, he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and aching. you barely had time to protest before he grabbed your hips, flipping you onto your stomach with a rough shove. you moaned as your body hit the mattress, your hands gripping the sheets as he positioned himself behind you. he didn’t waste time. his hands gripped your ass, spreading you open as he thrust into you from behind, the force of it making you cry out, your body jolting forward with each hard thrust. the angle was different, deeper, and you could feel every inch of him as he slammed into you, his cock hitting the spot that made you see stars.

his hand came down on your ass with a sharp slap, the sting of it sending a wave of pleasure through your body. “fuck,” you gasped, your voice muffled by the pillow as your hips bucked back against him. “harder.” he growled, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you harder, faster, the sound of his skin slapping against yours filling the room. “you really love this, don’t you?” he grunted, his voice low and rough. “love knowing i fuck them, but i come back to you.”

you moaned, your body trembling with pleasure as you nodded, your words coming out in broken gasps. “yes, yes, i love it.” his hand came down on your ass again, harder this time, and you cried out, the sting of it mixing with the overwhelming pleasure building inside you. “good,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust. “because this is the one thing i get to do that they can’t.”

with that, he thrust into you one last time, his body tensing as he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he came, filling you with hot, sticky heat. you moaned at the feeling of him cumming inside you, the sensation sending you over the edge as your own orgasm ripped through you, your body convulsing with pleasure. jaehyun collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving as he pressed soft kisses to the back of your neck, his hands still gripping your hips tightly. “this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice soft but possessive, “this is mine.”

✧

a/n: i do NOT condone cheating yall

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sleepnowmychild · 4 months ago

Text

Everything in my room has to fit the helpol aesthetic because I’m autistic about it. So I used a wine bottle holder as a jewellery stand.

Dionysus/vineyard/ancient wine cellar core

#hellenic pagan #hellenic polytheism #hellenic deities #hellenic worship #hellenism #greek mythology #helpol #hellenic polytheistic #hellenic polytheist #hellenic paganism

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pinksturniolo · 7 months ago

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Ok, I have this amazing idea for a good smutty smutty fic!

Your bring Matt home for the first time to meet your family (parents and siblings) and you guys get board of just sitting there so you decide to go downstairs into the basement that has a ping pong table and pool table. You decide to play pool and Matt gets turned on by the way you bend over the table and hit the ball (if that make sense lol) and then you guys ykw on the pool table while your family is upstairs.

8 Ball - Matt Sturniolo Blurb

wow that’s a really good prompt lol thank you anon!! hope you enjoy it <3

content warnings: smut, raw sex, sneaking around, etc.

a/n: i don’t know too much about pool so sorry if the explanation of the game is weird 💀

Matt puts a hand on your thigh under the table, giving a reassuring squeeze. Your leg has been bouncing nonstop with nervousness for the past 5 minutes since you guys have arrived. You smile at him, holding his hand and he winks at you, continuing the conversation with your parents while they ask him about work.

You and Matt drove down to Plymouth over the weekend so he could meet your parents and siblings for the first time. You were from Boston like Matt, but your family had a vacation home on the coast, and it was a summer tradition to spend time here, enjoying the beach and sunshine.

You had recently hit the 6 month mark of the relationship, things starting to get more serious between you two. Just last month, you had met his parents which was terrifying but went really well. Which is why you’re not sure how you were so nervous about him meeting yours, but Matt has been nothing but supportive, always finding ways to keep you calm.

The rest of the night goes great, lots of laughter being shared while everyone eats dinner and by the time desert comes out, you’re starting to feel a little bored with socializing and slightly tipsy from the bottle of wine you and Matt split.

Matt takes notice from the way you stopped engaging in the conversations, a small yawn escaping your mouth as you draw mindless circles on his arm. His hand is rested on your thigh again, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your bare skin.

He loved when you wore sundresses, not only because you looked so good in them, but also because it showed off your smooth long legs which he was obsessed with running his hands over, and pressing his lips to the soft plush of your inner thighs. Not to mention the easy access, the way he could just lift the dress up when he was behind you and pull your panties down, slipping his cock inside you with ease.

“Matt.” you whisper in his ear, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You wanna go somewhere? I’m so bored.”

Everyone seems preoccupied in their own conversations, having already asked Matt every possible question they could. He nods and rubs your shoulder, setting his napkin on his plate. “Sure baby.”

You both excuse yourselves from the table and an idea pops into your head as you lead Matt inside the house, to the game room downstairs.

“Remember how you said you wanted to teach me to play pool?” you ask him, a playful smile on your face as you grab his hand, walking down the staircase.

“No way. You guys have a pool table?” he says.

“Yup. And a ping pong table. And shuffleboard.” you reply and he laughs, thrusting his fist in the air cheerfully as you enter the game room, the large felt green table in the center.

He closes the door behind him as you walk up to the table, grabbing the pool stick. The balls are already arranged in the middle as you remove the holder and stand at the side, awkwardly holding it.

Matt tries to hide his laugh as he watches you attempt to figure out the right way to hit the ball, missing each time as the stick slips through your fingers.

“Uh, a little help here please?” You ask, looking at him with frustration when he finally moves towards you, chuckling as he takes the pool stick from you.

“You gotta hold it the right way sweetheart. Here, let me show you.” he says, standing behind you now and placing the stick back in your hand. He places his hand on your back, softly pushing you forward so you bend over the table.

He leans over you and helps you position your hand correctly, the end of the stick slotting between your fingers. Then he angles your elbow on your other arm, speaking into your ear, his warm breath on your neck.

The feeling of your ass pressed against his crotch gets his blood pumping, and it takes everything in him to not grind himself against you to relieve some of the tension in his jeans.

“Okay, now you’re good. Go ahead baby.” he says.

He stand us straight as you hit the balls, the stick gliding easily through your fingers now. You smile widely and turn around to hug him quickly, now eager to start the game.

However, it’s not even halfway through before Matt is losing his self control, watching you bend over each time it’s your turn. Your dress rides up, showing him your ass cheeks and getting a peek of your baby pink underwear. He’s not even trying to win, hitting the ball lazily, keeping his eyes on you and how good you look.

Matt has been nothing but respectful since arriving in your parent’s vacation home but right now all he can think about is bending you over the table, snatching your dress up and having his way with you.

It’s your turn once more when you feel Matt suddenly push up against you, running his large hands down your back and leaning down to press soft kisses on your bare shoulder.

“Matt… what are you doing?” You whine, unable to help the way you sigh as you feel his lips suck lightly on your neck.

He doesn’t answer, instead he trails his mouth down the nape of your neck and the back of your shoulders, leaving goosebumps on your skin. His hands are all over you, gripping your hips as he presses his hardness against your ass, grinding onto you.

“Fuck…” you breathe out, feeling yourself getting increasingly wet from the way he’s touching and kissing you. Matt hums against your skin, lifting up your dress and yanking your underwear down.

“Baby! Don’t you want to finish the game?” you yelp in shock. “Fuck the game.” he responds and runs his fingers through your pussy, spreading your arousal and reaching down to rub your clit.

You moan loudly and he grips your neck with his other hand, leaning his head down to whisper in your ear. “You can’t be loud, sweetheart. Save that for later. Right now, I need you to be a good girl and stay quiet for me. Okay?”

You nod, and he wastes no time unzipping his jeans and pulling his painfully hard dick out of his boxers, rubbing it through your folds a few times before pushing himself inside you.

You grip onto the edge of the table, arching your back and biting into your bottom lip to keep the moans in that threaten to spill from your mouth.

“Shit baby… always so fucking tight for me…” He groans, throwing his head back and gripping your hips tightly, your dress still bunched up around your waist as he thrusts into you at a good pace, his balls clapping against your skin.

Your heart races at the fear that you both could be caught any second, Matt fucking you while you’re bent over the pool table. But it feels way too good to stop and you have every intention of cumming around his cock before you leave this room.

Matt’s panting and groaning as quietly as he can behind you, his hips slamming into yours. You let him take complete control, your ass bouncing against him with each thrust.

Your little whimpers and muffled moans have him throbbing inside you, sweat building on his forehead as he’s already getting close from the quick pace he’s been keeping.

“Fuck Matt, I’m so close. You feel so fucking good.” you breathe out, feeling yourself clench around him, wetness dripping down your thighs.

He suddenly flips you around and picks your hips up so you’re on top of the table now. You gasp and throw your arms around his neck as he thrusts himself back into you at an unforgiving pace.

“I wanna see your pretty face when you cum baby.” he says, one arm around you, holding you close while he reaches down with his other hand, massaging fast circles on your clit.

You moan against his mouth, your fingers in a death grip on his hair as you feel your legs shake around his hips, your orgasm hitting you. He cums shortly after, releasing inside you, his thrusts now stuttered and uneven.

You both struggle to catch your breath, panting against each other as he finally pulls out, kissing you sweetly.

“Why do I get the feeling this was apart of your plan all along huh? You knew what you were doing pushing your ass out like that.” Matt says, a smirk on his face as he tucks himself back into his pants.

You pull your underwear back on, a playful look in your eyes. “I just knew I had to get you in here once I remembered we had a pool table.” You admit and he laughs, grabbing your hand to help you off. “Naughty girl.”

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inkedinfusions · 3 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 | eren jaeger chapter 2

⊱𖣂⊰ | In which you fall into a fictional world with the key to Pandora's box.

⊱𖣂⊰ | masterlist

⊰– prev next–⊱

𝟎𝟐 | 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

chapter word count: 3.5 k

content warnings: mild panic attack, blanket warnings

a/n: Zeke was so difficult to write, so I hope I made his character justice. Like three months ago I was a bit neutral -if not indifferent- towards his character, but now I think he is my favorite. I need to pick his brain apart lmao. I think I am getting the hang of him though.

Thanks for reading!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 foot against the floor filled the room, creating an unlikely harmony with the dripping faucet and the creak of old wood. You lean back against the chair furthest from both doors, teetering on the brink of falling

You swing your weight back, just so managing to catch yourself before you topple down to the dusty floor. Your heart begins to slow down after the spike of adrenaline, yet still doesn’t reach a steady pace.

And whose would, in this situation? You are stuck in an old creepy house, in the room next to two people who unsettled you even while being on the other side of a screen.

You debate picking the lock on the front door, or maybe smashing a window to escape the suffocating atmosphere. The walls close in on you, the air is sucked out of the space, and the sink won't stop dripping. Your eyes glaze over, tuning out reality

Drip

The house is destroyed in a blaze of giant footsteps, the ceiling crumbles and the kitchen is buried under flaming rubble. The square where people strolled earlier is walked on for the last time.

Drip.

Libero is diminished to nothing more than a barren wasteland, flattened down by the will of a puppeteer turned puppet. Screams stop, replaced by the wet crunches of flesh and blood.

Drip.

The music crescendos. You know. You know and yet you are still unable to do anything, frozen under the dead eyed stare of colossal titans. Your bones are crushed, your consciousness dissolves.

Drip.

Your heavy breathing is interrupted by an opening door, your eyes shooting to the threshold, looking up from where you have curled up on yourself. Yelena scans you over and nods towards the space behind her.

When you blink, you are already halfway across the room, your feet robotically bringing you next to her. You take a deep breath as discreetly as you can, glancing at Yelena when she moves to the side, inviting you in.

You push the door forwards and are brought eye to eye with Zeke Jaeger, the holder of the beast titan, member of the royal family, and the closest way you have of getting back home.

The breeze stills as his gray eyes move from the teacup to you. All in the room is sunk in shadows –not yet processed by your brain– but him. If this were a play, the stage would be pitch black and a ray of limelight would be shining on his person.

Zeke stands, dwarfing your frame, and extends a hand. You hesitate for a moment before gripping it tightly.

“Hello there,” he greets, offering you a smile. You are so taken by his presence that you almost don't notice the door closing behind you.

“Come sit.”

He nods towards a sofa situated in front of his own. The only thing offering a buffer in between is a small coffee table, set with a steaming teapot and two metal cups.

You awkwardly follow his instructions, glancing once at the cup in front of you. A bottle of wine flashes through your mind.

“I’m afraid I don’t know how you take your tea, so apologies if it's not to your taste.”

Zeke continues the one sided conversation by himself, seemingly not bothered by your lack of engagement. He swirls around his own tea, a dark liquid that glitters when hit by the sunlight coming through a small window, parallel to the door.

You tentatively grab the cup, letting the warmth seep into your hands.

“Thank you,” you utter, not really knowing what else to say.

He chuckles and takes a sip from his own, scanning you up and down with more subtlety than Yelena. You wonder how you look from his perspective. Is he evaluating you as a threat? Or as a tool?

“I’m Zeke Jaeger,” yeah, you know, “and it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…?”

“Y/n.”

You bring the warm cup to your lips seconds after introducing yourself, frowning softly at the bitter taste. You would add sugar if it did not mean having to put the cup down and continue the conversation.

“Well, Miss Y/n, what can you tell me about the story of Ymir?”

You almost choke on the tea, barely remembering how to breathe afterwards.

He can't possibly know… right?

“I don’t… I'm not her,” you repeat, remembering Yelena’s first words to you.

“Now, I know that,” Zeke continues, “but that’s not what I asked.”

He shifts in place, and the gesture reminds you of your father scolding you after breaking a window with a baseball. Not mad, not even chastising, but instead presenting you with the problem and asking you to reflect on its error.

What ultimately dooms you is not that you are familiar with information that you shouldn't be familiar with, but that you're aware that you shouldn't know it. Innocent people would be nervous, sure, but they would answer.

You hesitate.

And you decide to tell the truth. Or at least half of it, anyway.

“I'm not… from here,” you start cautiously, gouging Zeke's reaction to your obvious revelation. He, predictably, stays silent, inviting you to continue.

“I think–” you take a deep breath. “I think I might be from another universe.”

That gets a reaction out of him. You catch an almost imperceptible flash of surprise in his eyes, quickly covered up by his nonchalant demeanor.

“Another… universe?” he asks, pausing in between words.

You nod, your throat suddenly closing up. Regret eats you alive, but you push forward, knowing that the man sitting in front of you was your current best bet at returning.

“There's a story. About her. Ymir,” you specify, the words bubbling up faster than you can process them. You let the dam flow, and now there was no stopping it. The dam, however, still acts as a filter, and you are cautious enough to trim and edit your story to your convenience.

“I read it. I'm not supposed to be here.”

Your last words come out in a hushed whisper, a plea for him to help you. You hate the idea of revealing some of your cards to him, but since he was half of the only two people who could currently access the paths and Ymir, Zeke was your only option if you wanted to communicate with the deity.

“So there's a story, in your… universe–” he pushes through the word like it's made of thick syrup, “ –that basically spells out our own history?”

You timidly incline your head in assent, feeling shy after throwing the ball to his court. There's a small crack in your mug that you trace over and over again, the repetition helping ground your attention instead of spiraling.

Zeke meditates over your words for a minute, his hand coming up to stroke his chin repeatedly. You can almost see the cogs in his brain turning behind his gray eyes, figuring out the likelihood of your story being true.

“You know of the paths, and of the conditions to access them.” He looks up to you again, searching for confirmation. You nod. “You know of my brother too.”

Zeke's eyes narrow, analyzing you once again. You feel like an old, dusty tome, locked away in an ancient library, promising knowledge to those who can decode its secrets.

He hums, processing the extent of your knowledge. You are hesitant to give him any more information that will expose the true reach of it.

“I need to get home,” you continue, not wanting to take part in the horrors to come. Sure, you would absolutely love to meet your favorite characters, but you don't fancy being turned to mush or shot at with a pistol.

And you have a life there. Friends, family.

Are they wondering where you are? Would they look for you?

You cage those thoughts in a box and throw it deep, deep in your mind. Now is not the time to spiral.

“You want me to look through the paths for a solution.” Zeke finishes your train of thought, looking down, and you give him an affirmative nod. While you didn't know of the thing –or things– that brought you here, maybe a higher power could take you back. Thus, Ymir.

Ymir is the closest to a god you had here, and the world be damned if you wouldn’t pray at her feet for a chance at going home. You almost feel like a devout follower, willing to make a pilgrimage for an opportunity to be heard.

You let Zeke process your request, and after a moment he sighs, turning his head to you.

“I know we just met,” he starts. “But I’m going to need you to trust me. If there is anything, anything at all in that story that could be relevant I need you to tell me.”

Your throat dries, and your tongue refuses to cooperate, turning as heavy as lead. No sound comes out of your mouth, so you close it, only to open it again.

“I trust you,” you lie in a raspy voice.

Zeke does not believe you, obviously, but neither does he make an effort to refute your statement. He simply nods, and the silence envelopes both of you until he speaks again.

“Well, let's get you situated then.” Zeke stands up, offering you a hand. “You are supposed to be staying with me, after all.”

In the whirlwind of the conversation you had forgotten all about your cover story. Holy shit. You are going to be living with the very real Zeke Jaeger. Concern rises in your mind, remembering Marley’s obsession with keeping Eldians in line.

“And before I forget. Here.”

His hand dips into his front coat pocket and extracts a ruby red armband embroidered with a white nine point star. Your white armband rustles against your jacket when you take it off, allowing Zeke to tie the new one around your bicep.

“Isn’t there going to be an issue with my, I don't know, blood status? Someone mentioned blood tests at the station.”

No one had mentioned tests, actually, but you feel confident enough that it's such a small detail that Zeke won't bother confirming it with Yelena. Why would he verify such a trivial sentence, when the threat of being seen with her far outweighs the risks?

A single drop of blood would confirm that you're not Eldian, not Marleyan, not anything else. No family or government to respond to too, in case the higher ups wanted to run trials with your genetic material.

“Oh, don't worry about it,” he waves off your concerns. “People in charge are more worried about an Eldian pretending to be Marleyan, rather than the other way around. Puts things into perspective.”

He takes the now obsolete piece of fabric from your hand and lets it take the empty place inside his pocket.

“What does red mean?” you ask, feigning ignorance.

“You are part of my family now,” Zeke responds. “I am a Warrior, and we get special privileges as such. I will explain everything later, I promise. But we have to move.”

Zeke gives you a reassuring smile, and a small, treacherous part of your heart is comforted.

When you get out of the small room, you discover that Yelena had already left, leaving nothing to betray her presence in the house. Smart plan, you think. Yelena and Zeke could not be connected yet in the eyes of Marley. She probably just retrieved you because of the trust already placed upon her.

You follow Zeke out into the alley, and continue down an unfamiliar path until you arrive at a quaint street, flanked by living quarters. You pay half your attention to Zeke’s chattering, and half to committing to memory the scenery.

“I’m sure she already told you,” –he skips over Yelena’s name– “but your father was a distant relative of mine, on my mother’s side.” A lie, obviously. Still, a convenient one. Now he had a reason to keep you under his wing, even if he lived one of the most supervised lives in Marley.

“My parents are a touchy subject with my grandparents, but they shouldn't have a problem with you.” His steps are light and breezy, his slow pace aiding you in falling into a similar stride. “Still, try not to mention her. Keep the comments about your family at a minimum.”

Zeke halts his walking, almost causing you to bump into his figure. His eyes pierce into yours, wanting to transmit the importance of his statement.

“The best stories can still be unraveled when exposed enough.”

He doesn’t need to expand on it. You get a feeling that he's not just talking about your fake backstory. You nod, digging your fingernails into your palms. Zeke smiles and continues on his path.

You stay frozen on the sidewalk a little longer, before shaking your head and jogging to catch up.

“So, uh, you live with them? Your grandparents?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “Down the street from them. You'll have your own space, don't worry.”

“Oh, I didn't mean–”

“It's okay, I know how you teenagers get. I've been personally acquainted with some.”

Zeke lets out a hearty chuckle, looking straight ahead. The late afternoon sun rays bounce off his already golden hair, giving him an almost ethereal look. It drenches your coat too, melting the original beige into something more blinding.

You and Zeke strut through town, coming up to a nicer neighborhood than the one with the seedy house. It is still nothing compared to some buildings out in Liberio, and yet you feel a shift in the general vibe.

A distant person raises their left arm in greeting and you notice a difference in their attire. A striking yellow armband has taken the place of the pure white ones, and as Zeke raises his own arm, you recognize that his own armband is blood red.

“That’s Johann Grice,” his voice points out to you, lowering his hand and resuming his walk up some stairs towards a door . “He's got a boy I’m… mentoring. Around your age I'd say.”

You feel a little uncomfortable at the revelation, Colt’s death feeling like a grim reminder of what you feel like you are condemning this world to. Would Johann Grice wave to you if he knew you were sentencing his eldest son to death?

“I'll introduce you later, come on.”

Zeke knocks on a house’s door, his tall body shielding you from half the field of vision of the threshold. A kind looking old woman opens the door, her tired eyes instantly softening at the view of her grandson.

“Zeke!” she greets with a smile. “What a nice surprise. We weren't expecting you until much later.”

Zeke hugs the woman you assume to be his grandma, Mrs Jaeger, and greets her back.

“The train came much earlier than expected,” he explains, breaking the hug and moving a little to the side, exposing you to Mrs Jaeger. “This is Y/n. The girl I told you about, daughter of the dead soldier.”

You give a nervous smile to the old woman, shyly raising your wand to wave, before deciding that that’s not something a normal person would do to someone standing meters in front of them. The result is a jumbled motion of your arm jerking up before clunkily returning to its resting pace.

“Hello,” you instead try. “It's nice meeting you.”

Mrs Jaeger surprises you when she pulls you in for an unexpected hug, making you freeze up before tentatively putting your arms around her, returning the gesture.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she exclaims, seemingly touched by your fake story. “I am very sorry for what happened to your father.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

You notice Zeke giving you a small, reproachful look from behind her grandma's shoulder, still holding you in an embrace. You answer with your own lost expression, wordlessly transmitting that, while you were aware of your robotic response, you still didn’t know how else to act.

“Come in, come in.” Mrs Jaeger ushers you inside. “My husband’s just upstairs, I'll go call him. You make yourself at home, dear.”

She retreats up the stairs after giving you a smile, leaving you alone with Zeke in the kitchen. The sound of the creaky floorboards gets softer as she ascends, and you follow her footsteps with your head.

You are standing still in the same place as when you entered, feeling very out of place in the small home. You lock eyes with Zeke, whose eye corners are creased with his own small grin.

“They’re nice,” you mumble, making his eyes sparkle with amusement.

“See? Nothing to worry about.”

Zeke strolls past you to the counters, opening and closing many in quick succession. He rummages through cabinets, his hand emerging from one of them with a small, silver tin. The opened tin is offered to you, and you peer inside it, identifying small, powdery biscuits.

The flour stains your fingers white as you wordlessly take one, nibbling on it to have something to do with your hands. Zeke takes another before storing the tin where he found it, next to the leak-free faucet and the pile of firewood for the stove.

You exchange words with Mrs Jaeger and her husband when they come down, and they assure you that if you ever need anything, you can just ask. You nod awkwardly at their offer, noting at their coddling behavior. You remember Faye, and just as quickly you push her out of your thoughts.

They offer you dinner, which you refuse, still too jittery to eat anything more than the small cookie. After bidding the couple goodnight, you and Zeke exit their house and make your way to an adjacent residence, where Zeke unlocks the front door, placing a duplicate of the key in your palm.

“Home sweet home,” he says as he leads you inside a property nearly identical to the previous one. The only difference is in the personal items, small trinkets strewn across tables and shelves. Zeke approaches something behind you, you hear a click and light floods the room.

He motions for you to follow him upstairs, turning to a door down the hall across the railing. Picture frames are hung up on the walls of the hallway, small tidbits of Zeke’s life bringing color to the wooden corridor.

This only serves as a striking contrast to the bedroom you are shown, the bare room only containing a bed, small desk, dresser, and shelves, lined with old books. Your eyes zero in on two of them, a red one with what you assume to be anatomy drawings, and another with paw prints across the spine.

A small breeze flows through the window above the bed, making the light blue curtains sway gently in the wind. Zeke walks towards the desk, igniting the small candle lamp that then coats the space in a warm light.

“This is your room,” Zeke makes a flourish with his hand, akin to a circus ringmaster. “You'll find some clothes there,” he points to the drawers. “I can have them mended if they don't fit.”

“Thank you,” you fumblingly answer, taking a few hesitant steps past the door frame, towards the book with the paw prints.

Your fingers trace over the unknown symbols of the cover, the runes forming what you were sure to be the title. Yet, you couldn’t decipher what it was supposed to mean. Zeke strides over to stand by your side, examining your pick in literature.

“What, you’re interested in–” he squints his eyes at the book in your hands, “ –The Beginners Guide to Observing Wildlife? I didn't know I still had that,” he mutters.

“Is that what this is?”

Zeke shoots you a confused look, making you turn your gaze downwards. You mess with a small piece of the cover that is coming off, hesitating.

“I can't read it.”

The confession tastes bitter in your tongue, and you feel strangely embarrassed at not knowing the written language of a world that was not supposed to exist. Your cheeks burn and you turn your face to the side, quickly returning the book to the shelf.

Zeke's face softens, and he places a comforting hand on your back. You can practically feel older brother energy oozing from his figure, and you feel like a small kid again, knowing everything in the world, and yet ignorant of so much more.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, patting you back. “Goodnight. I'll be down the hall if you need anything.”

The door closes behind him, and you are truly alone for the first time since… well, since you were home. Home sweet home, Zeke had said. Sweet, maybe, you think, the sugar from the biscuits still coating your tastebuds. Home? Not really.

You find cotton pajamas in a drawer below the book lined shelves, and you make a quick work of slipping them on. Crawling into the covers after blowing out the candle, you find yourself revisiting the quick succession of events today, from the ruins, to the train, to the internment zone.

Your heart squeezes painfully, discomfort beginning to stir beneath your flesh. You fall into restless, interrupted sleep, lulled by the distant sound of train whistles.

taglist: @dressycobra7 @xngelsau

ask or comment to be added!

#ann writes #the key #aot #snk #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren #eren x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger

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anodeorain · 1 year ago

Text

No excuses.

Lady Dimitrescu x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI

Tags: blood, flirty

Notes: I apologies for my English. Let me know, what you think :) TY!

“I need to get rid os this selfish wretch! How dare she?!”

Alcina growls, scratching the wall under her hand. She rolls her eyes, sneaking away to her room, grabbing the nearest vase and throwing it against the floor. It was one of her favorite vases but now it’s broken into a dozen fragments.

She definitely had a thing for pretty vases that she loves to collect in her castle. Her emotions overflowed and she didn’t give a damn about the vase.

One of the maids, Marianna, totally drives her insane. Marianna has been laying her dirty hands on Y/N for few weeks now. Every time Alcina wanted to steal Y/N to her chamber, Marianna appeared out of nowhere and took all of Y/N’s attention.

Alcina stops, taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. She sits at her vanity, takes her long cigarette holder, puffing on it nervously. The anxiety crashed on her completely unexpectedly. Dimitrescu looks out of the window, placing her arm on her own arm, tapping it with her middle finger. The slowly falling snow outside calms Alcina down and she feels tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

A giant swarm of flies appears right behind her back. Her daughters smile slightly before they notice Mother’s frustrating face.

“What are you doing here?

Alcina watches them through the mirror standing quietly behind her.

“We heard you wanted to get rid of Marianna, Mother…”

Cassandra says, smirking as she puts her hands behind her back.

“So what?” Alcina asks, frowning.

Her blood boils inside.

“We can help you, Mother.”

Bela adds as she smiles, tilting her chin up.

Dimitrescu also tilts her chin up, raising one eyebrow as she takes her long cigarette holder and looks over at her daughters, a devilish smirk slowly comes upon her lips.

“Hm…” She hums.

“Say yes, Mother. Please?” Daniela smiles at her.

“Her blood tastes soooo good…” Cassandra laughs.

Alcina nods, gets up, placing her hand on her waist. She hates this maid… particular one maid that flirts with her favorite maid.

“The blondie haired slut is your next target. Understood my words?”

Alcina spits out those words as her facial expression turns into disgust. Daughters nod and lick their lips, laughing. They haven’t haunted for so long due to coldness outside but Mother finally let them have fun with one of the maids.

“Yes, Mother.”

Cassandra and Daniela turn into swarms and immediately fly away.

“Bela.” Alcina says, before her Daughter vanishes.

“Yes, Mother?”

“Be careful with Y/N. She’s… the best maid.”

Bela nods with a smile before disappearing after her sisters and Dimitrescu sits at her vanity once again, rubbing her eyes. She feels so annoyed and tired of feeling jealousy every day. It was just the right time for creating another special bottle wine.

*****

You wake up as usual and quickly go to cook a breakfast for Lady Dimitrescu. Usually the head maid does Lady’s breakfast. She is the greatest cook of all of maids.

You take a look around and smile to everyone when other maids start their job. Except one. Where is Marianna? You frown and walk over to the head maid. Marianna is never late for her job. Every maid is well informed what will happen if they disobey.

“Where is Marianna?” You ask nervously.

“I don’t know, Y/N. Why?”

The head maid replies as she looks at you and shrugs.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Thank you.” You nod.

“Y/N!” The head maid says, her voice is trembling.

“Yes?”

“Lady Dimitrescu is waiting for you in her Chamber in an hour with her breakfast. Don’t screw it up.”

You nod again, feeling your heart skips a bit as you walk back to do your job. You’ve been invited to Dimitrescu’s chamber few times to… please the Lady. After that you always went to your room. Even though Lady Dimitrescu seems to like you, you are not sure about her next moves.

After some time the head maid brings you a tray with few plates, covered with cloches. You nod, gently carrying it to Dimitrescu’s Chamber. You knock few times, slowly opening the heavy door into her room. It opens smoothly and you walk inside the quiet big room that is dimply lit.

“My apologies, Lady Dimitrescu. Here’s your breakfast as you asked.”

You smile at her, your arms tremble a little as you place the tray on the table. Mostly because of the tray’s waist.

Alcina turns her body to you as she finished applying her red lipstick. She smacks her lips together, smirking. The Lady gets up, slowly walking toward you, never taking her gaze away from you. You stare at her, completely amused by her beauty. Lady Dimitrescu always caught your attention by the way she looks. She definitely is the prettiest woman that you put your eyes on.

She notices your sparkling eyes, kneeling in front of you as she places her bare palm on your cheek. She gently caresses it with her thumb, running her finger against your moist lips.

“Thank you, dear. Mind joining me?”

Alcina asks in a cloyingly sweet tone as she smirks, looking into your eyes. You shake your head in disagreement but your stomach treacherously growls. You swallow hard and look away. Lady Dimitrescu let’s put a laugh, placing her cold hand on your shoulder.

“Oh, Y/N, you’re hungry. Come on, I’ll share.”

“N-no, thank-“

“Y/N, are you disobeying me?”

Lady Dimitrescu’s voice turns to cold in a second as she gets on her feet again, stepping forward to you. You are half of her height but still manages to look into her golden eyes. You sigh and nod.

The Lady smirks as she turns around and walks toward the table, placing a second chair besides hers before inviting you to join her. You smile at The Lady, taking a seat right next to her.

“Enjoy, dear.”

Alcina takes off cloches, putting them aside and takes a deep breath of fresh well cooked steaks. She smiles, looking down at you. You doubt for a second before your stomach growls again, echoing in the room. You look up at Alcina, taking a fork and a knife, digging it into the steak.

You both eat quietly. Alcina finishes her steak faster and leans against the chair, wiping her lips with the cloth napkin. She smirks, watching you eat your steak and gently strokes your hair.

“How is it, Y/N?”

She asks quietly.

“Not the thing I’m used to… but quiet alright.”

You nod, giving Lady Dimitrescu a quick nod and pushing the plate away as you get full.

Alcina smirks, elegantly takes her crimson glass, pouring some wine into it. She swirls the wine in the glass. A tense silence hung in the room before you break it.

“Thank you for sharing your breakfast with me, Lady Dimitrescu.”

You say, rubbing your stomach.

“Please, call me a Mistress, dear.”

Alcina smirks and you nod in agreement.

Lady Dimitrescu pats her lap and you shyly climb on it, your back faces her. You can smell her body scent mixed with cigarettes and perfume. She… smells nice. You like her scent. Alcina gently caresses your cheek with her fingers, sliding her hand down to your neck, brushing your hair off your shoulder. She leans down, slightly nibbling at your skin and you shiver. She already drank your blood few times.

“You’re lucky we just had breakfast… Otherwise I’d drink some of your sweet blood.” She smirks.

“You… can do it.” You reply.

“Not this time, dear. I’ll leave your blood for a dessert.”

Her words sent shivers down your spine and you nod, looking into her eyes. She can feel your fear running in your veins and it makes her grin even more, showing off her white fangs.

“May I?” She asks.

Alcina smiles softly at you, takes a hair brush, runs it through your hair. It makes you relax and you close your eyes, letting out a soft sigh. Alcina starts to tie up your hair in two braids. You let her do it and sit quietly on her lap, feeling her cold fingers touch your neck. Surely, Lady Dimitrescu did it on propose. She knew how your body reacts.

“Here you are, Y/N.”

She wraps her arm from behind you, placing her index finger on your chin, lifting your head so you can look at yourself in the mirror. You tilts your head from side to side and then smile at her through the mirror, slightly leaning against Lady’s arm.

“Thank you, Mistress. May I go now?” You ask and she nods.

“You may, dear. Thank you for sharing this morning with me. I hope you liked it as much as I did.”

You smile at her, placing all empty plates on the tray, heading off toward the door. Alcina gets up, walking toward you to help you with the door, opening it.

“Oh and… Y/N.” Alcina says.

“Yes, Mistress?”

You stop behind the door, turning around to face Alcina. She gives you a devilish smile.

“She… was quiet tasty, wasn’t she?”

Lady Dimitrescu laughs loudly in a low tone, shutting the door right in front of you, leaving you with your worst nightmare right there.

#lady d #lady dimitrescu #re8 #lady dimitrescu x female reader #alcina x y/n #dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu smut #lady dimitrescu x y/n

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inlovewithgreta · 1 year ago

Text

Sweet Thing — Alcina Dimitrescu x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Warnings: Praise, biting, marking, spit kink, drink play (red wine), thigh riding, blood kink, etc…

Word Count: 6.2k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were too focused on finishing the final touches of your dessert to notice the tall raven-haired woman glancing at you from across the room as you held your breath to ensure the icing along your cake was precise. Your bottom lip was tucked between your teeth as you examined your hard work with the intricate lines that formed the most beautiful pattern atop the cake.

It was one of the other maids birthday's and you took it upon yourself to help her celebrate as you and your fellow workers were the closest to the young maid as she had no family left. When you thought of the idea to make something special for her, you were surprised to hear from Alcina that she was allowing you to do such a task in her castle, as it was your place to care for her, and not anybody else, but the tall woman had her eye on you as you were the newest hire in the castle.

Although you had only been there for nearly a month, she noticed the way you were quick and efficient at your job. Rooms got cleaned without a speck of dust in sight, and she took note of the way your gentle hands moved her expensive decorations around, only to put them back in their exact position after they were thoroughly cleaned. You were never one to pry into Alcina's business unlike the other maids when one would suddenly go missing or there was a new bloody mess to clean after Alcina's daughters were done snacking. You kept to yourself, and that was something that intrigued her.

You knew of the Dimitrescu family's inhuman abilities but didn't dare ask questions out of respect, and with that, Alcina never laid a finger on you. . . That was, until a large pale hand found its way to your shoulder just as you had finished your task.

"Is it finally finished?" Alcina's sultry voice rang in your ears as she blew smoke past her lips from her lit cigarette that sat delicately in its elegant holder between her fingers.

"I think so—" You eyed the finished product, refusing to bring your eyes to the woman towering behind you as she slipped one of her black gloves off.

"Then I think it's time we taste it." Without hesitation, Alcina leans forward, her clothed breasts just barely touching the top of your head as she dips a slender finger into the frosting covering the cake, making you stand completely still in shock at both of her actions.

As Alcina brought her icing covered finger to her face, your head tilted up and eyes lingered on the way her darkened red lips wrapped around her pale finger before swallowing and contemplating for a moment.

"It's lacking a bit of. . . sweetness." She admitted with a frown.

"Oh– perhaps you need to wash it down with some wine! I've heard the other maid's talk about the wine cellar, I could go fetch–"

"No!" Alcina immediately cut you off, catching herself by surprise with her quick response.. "I mean. . ." She quickly looked around before catching sight of an unopened bottle of red wine to her left and picking it up to show you. "This will do just fine. Be a dear and grab two glasses for me." She pointed towards the glass cabinet that contained her favorite wine glasses, hoping to distract you from her fast response as she herself just realized why she was quick to begin with. You mentioned the wine cellar. There were things that happened down there that she didn't want your innocent eyes to see. There was a reason why the Dimitescu family was always in need of a new maid, but for some reason, the second you walked through her grand doors, there was something that stopped her from wanting to harm you, and it was at this moment that she realized she had a special liking to you, and she couldn't control her wandering thoughts any longer.

"Two glasses?" You eyed her curiously.

"For the two of us, of course. I thought you could use a break, unless you'd rather go back to cleaning–"

"Two glasses coming up!"

Alcina held back a smirk as she took a step back, allowing space for you to move freely around her and nab two glasses from the wooden cupboard.

"Where would you like me to serve you, Lady Alcina?"

"What have I said about the formalities, darling?" She tilted her head slightly.

"To call you by your given name. My apologies, Alcina." You bowed your head in respect.

"You're too sweet for your own good. . ." Her gaze immediately softened as she tilted your head back up with the point of her finger under your chin. "That's why you're my favorite." She smiled for the first time at you, and you felt your cheeks heat up at her words. "Now come, it's been a long day and I can't stand another moment in these infuriating heels." Alcina dropped her finger from your chin and clutched onto the wine bottle as she aimed for the door. Due to her height, Alcina had to bend forward to step under the doorframe, completely filling your view with the curvature of her lower body as her rear end was at eye level as she bent her way into the next room with you just behind her, a slight blush creeping onto your face when you noticed your lingering gaze on the woman's body and had to force your eyes away.

"Where are we going?" You question, when you two walk past the parlor where she normally drinks her beloved wine.

"To my chambers. I have a proposition for you."

"Why not ask me here?"

"It's more of a. . . private matter."

"Right. . ." You nodded your head in response as if she could see you with her back turned as the two of you made your way up the grand staircase and down the dimly lit hallway leading to her bedroom. She entered the same way she had to leave the kitchen, with the slight bend of her body, clouding your view once more with her backside.

Your eyes immediately scanned the elegant room surrounding you, as it had been your first time ever allowed into Alcina's private quarters. Her furniture was larger than a regular humans, to be more accommodating of her larger physique. She sat at her vanity with a small huff as she freed her feet from her black stilettos, tossing them to the ground as you just stood quietly at the entrance, fixated on the way her fingers were gentle with every move she made. Even as she was sitting down, her posture remained perfect.

"You can come in. Close the door behind you and pour us some wine." She chuckled when she caught sight of your nervous stance.

"Okay. . ." You immediately came to her side after closing the door behind you and setting the two glasses on her vanity before popping open the wine bottle and gently pouring the dark liquid into each glass, careful not to make a mess with the way your hands were slightly shaking.

"Thank you, dear." Alcina swirled her wine before taking a large sip, quietly humming at the plethora of flavors reaching her taste buds.

With hesitation, you picked up your own glass, and did just as she did, swirling the beverage around before taking a small sip. You hummed to yourself once you got a taste of the wine, as you immediately took a liking to it.

"Good, isn't it?" Alcina asked, before tossing her gloves on her vanity, followed by her large black hat that always shaded her face, freeing her pin tight curls.

"Very." Your eyes were trained on her as she looked at herself in the mirror, taking the pins out of her raven colored hair, and running her slender fingers through her curls.

"Good. I knew you would like it. After all, I do make the wine myself." She states matter of factly as her golden eyes meet yours through the reflection.

"You're very good at it."

"That's very kind of you, thank you." She smiled softly, and you gave her one in return. "Will you be a dear and unbutton my dress for me?" She asks politely.

"Oh- of course." You set your glass down next to hers before standing behind her, bringing your shaky hands to the back of her white dress and carefully unbuttoning the fabric little by little, slowly revealing her pale back until each button was undone. "There you go."

Alcina took another sip from her glass before she stood up, towering over you. "Would you like to hear my proposition?" She asked calmly, slowly sliding her arm out of her sleeve.

"Yes. . ." You eyed her curiously, slightly knitting your eyebrows, and forcing yourself to not tear your gaze from her glowing eyes. "You said it was a private matter?"

"I did, yes." She slid her other sleeve off, and slowly dropped her lush white dress down past her curves, revealing her slightly see-through black laced lingerie set that barely covered her luscious curves.

Your heart immediately started beating faster, and Alcina immediately caught on as you cleared your throat and tore your eyes away from her, instead taking another sip of your wine to cover the rising heat in your cheeks.

"If I'm being completely honest, you're one of the best maids I've ever hired. And I know you've only been here a month but I've noticed how hard you work. It's quite impressive." Alicia admitted as she bent to take another swig of her wine, thinking about her next words carefully.

"Thank you—"

Alcina lifted a finger to your lips, silencing you, before sliding that same finger down to your chest, walking you slowly backwards towards her bed. "And so I had this thought, that since you do so much around here, perhaps I could do a little something for you in return."

The back of your knees bump into her bed frame, sticking you in between both the bed and Alcina.

"Is that okay, doll?"

You nod your head, throat going dry at her sudden closeness.

"Use your words."

"Yes— do what you want. Please." You instantly caved, words coming out as more of a beg than you had originally planned, but with a bit of liquid courage, and a half naked Alcina towering over you was all it took for you to completely give into her control without a second thought.

"Good girl." Alcina smirked, and revealed her long and sharp claws in nearly an instant, making you freeze in place with wide eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to tear this little dress off your body, is that alright?"

"Yes. . ." You were soft spoken and didn't dare move as she gently used her claws to rip your dress open from the front, it fell straight to the floor in the blink of an eye, leaving you shocked that she left you completely unscathed.

"I've been very curious what you've been hiding under that little maid outfit of yours, and I will say that I am pleased with what I see." Alcina admits, yellow eyes scanning your body from head to toe, as the only garments covering your body were your bra and panties. She returned her nails back to their normal red polished fingers and used a gentle hand to push you down at the edge of the bed. An idea ran through her mind as you sat below her, Alcina turning around without saying a word to grab the now half empty wine bottle from her vanity. As her body faced away from you, your eyes couldn't help but land upon her rounded ass and admire her luscious curves as her thong sculpted her ass perfectly, and not noticing how long you were staring until she spoke out.

"You know how I knew you were different from the others?" She questioned, bringing your focus back up to her face. "You look at me with those bright beautiful eyes with pure admiration. Whether it was close or from afar, I could tell you weren't gazing out of disgust or hatred. It was different. . ." She smiled faintly at the thought as she made her way back to standing in front of you. "It was the kind of look you gave me just now. Like I wasn't just some kind of tall hideous monster."

"I mean, look at you. You're not hideous, nor are you a monster. You're beautiful, Alcina. Truly. How could I not look at you with anything other than 'perfect' on my mind?"

Her gaze fixated on you, only sensing the truth in your words, and you swore you saw her cheeks turn just the slightest shade darker than her usual bright porcelain skin.

"And this, my dear, is why you deserve a special treat." She tucks loose hair behind your ear.

"Which is?" You slightly raise a brow out of curiosity.

"Why me of course." She grazed a slender finger along your jawline. "That is, if you'll have me. I won't force you into anything you're not comfortable with." Her face softened, full of sincerity, almost begging you to agree. "Let me show you how grateful I am."

You looked up at her through your long lashes, taking a moment to think about what she was offering, and what you were about to agree to. You knew she meant every word she said. She had respected you from the start, and it was a surprise to both of you that you each had an eye out for each other, and unspoken feelings were mutual.

"Show me then." Her eyes lit up at your words, and Alcina wasted no time in gently pushing you all the way back against the plush mattress, your body falling softly onto the sheets, and holding yourself up by your elbows.

Alcina carefully crawled her way above you, straddling your hips with her meaty thighs, and ensuring she didn't add her full weight to the pressure against your hips, as she didn't want to squish your small human body.

"What do you say we finish this bottle up, hmm?" Alcina flashed the bottle in front of you, and you nodded your head in return. A smirk toyed at her lips just before she took a swig at her new thoughts. When you thought she was going to bring the bottle to your own mouth, she brought it back to her signature red lips, but this time you notice she didn't swallow, but instead set the bottle down on the floor, bringing her attention back to you.

You licked your bottom lip slowly as Alcina placed both hands on your cheeks, and leaned down, hovering her face just inches from yours, causing your back to arch as you attempted to reach up to kiss her lips. Alcina pulled away ever so slightly with an arched brow, wanting words of affirmation before she continued.

"Please. . ." You instantly begged her through your parted lips.

She slightly chuckled before pulling your face completely to her own. Her large hands gently squished your cheeks, causing your mouth to open, your tongue sliding out past your bottom lip just as Alcina spit her wine carefully into your mouth which you took without hesitation. She gave you a moment to swallow before smashing her lips against yours, both of you humming at the new contact.

Her tongue swiped against your bottom lip, asking for more access, and in return your lips spread. She immediately dove right in, her large tongue dominating yours. You completely fall back against the sheets, Alcina keeping her body pressed against yours as her hands roamed your body.

You snuck a hand down to her large breasts, grazing your thumb against her hardened nipple, eliciting another hum from the woman.

Alcina was the first to pull away for air, only to bring her lips to smother your jawline with wet kisses, using a light hand under your chin to tilt your head, giving the woman access to your open neck. She immediately attaches herself to you, sucking and kissing along your neck, holding back the urge to sink her teeth into you once she reaches your pulse point.

"Mmm, you smell divine." She admitted between kisses, slowly working her way down your skin, and leaving soon to be marks along your flesh.

"Thank—" Your words got cut off with a gasp when Alcina nibbled your collarbone before soothing it with her wet tongue.

When she reached your chest, Alcina lifted her head with a slight lick of her lips, bringing her golden eyes to yours.

"I see we still have more fabric to get rid of. May I?" She asks politely, pointing to your bra.

"Yes." You were quick to give her permission, which she took with a small smile, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra before sliding the thin fabric off of you, and throwing it to the side.

Her eyes landed upon your bare breasts almost instantaneously, gazing at their fullness with hunger in her eyes, watching as your chest rose and fell with your quickened anticipated breaths, loving the way you slightly squirmed under her gaze.

"My, my, even better than I imagined, little one. . ." She placed a gentle hand on your chest, cupping her breast softly, and grazing her thumb over your nipple, repeating the same action you did to her before.

She raised a small brow when you sucked in a breath, taking her sweet time in lowering her face towards your chest. Your back impulsively arched, pushing your breasts quicker towards her face, eliciting a deep chuckle from the woman.

"So impatient. . ." She looked up at you through her mascara filled lashes just as she flattened her tongue over your hardened nipple before attaching her lips to your breast. Alcina was gentle with her mouth movements, not wanting to graze her teeth against your sensitive skin, or accidentally harm you in any way.

A hand slid through her soft black curls, just barely keeping her head in place as her mouth worked wonders along your bud before kissing across your chest to pay attention to your other breast.

She slid a hand up to cup your other breast, fingers toying with your nipple and giving it a slight pinch, earning a small whimper to escape past your lips.

She then leaves wet kisses down your sternum, golden eyes watching every little movement of yours, whether it was your quick breathing or the slight arching of your back when she kissed a spot that felt ticklish.

As she kissed lower and lower, her kisses became faster and more needy as she went past your navel. Alcina, while lowering herself down, had her back arched, pushing her rounded ass in the air.

That view.

It was the kind of view that would be etched into your brain and never be forgotten.

She truly had the most beautiful curves you had ever seen.

Her teeth grabbed the thin lace, slowly sliding your panties down your legs, leaving you completely bare in front of her. Alcina's lustful gaze never leaves your lower half as she tosses your panties behind her. Her slender fingers glide past your glistening entrance, spreading your wetness around before bringing those same fingers to her mouth, and sliding them past her lips.

"Mmm. . ." Alcina uses her tongue to lick her fingers clean of your juices. "You have the sweetest little pussy." She hummed, leaning her face towards your wet center and licking a strip up your folds with her flattened tongue. Her hands held your hips down, not wanting you to move from her touch.

Alcina had never truly enjoyed herself as much as she was in the moment with you. She never thought she would've taken a liking to anyone, let alone one of her maids.

A quiet moan escaped past your lips when she flicked her tongue against your sensitive clit. Her fingers kneaded at your hips as she used her full mouth to pleasure you. Chills ran down your spine when she sucked your sensitive bud. She thought to herself how she couldn't possibly get enough of you and your taste along her tongue.

Alcina slid a hand between your thighs, slowly inserting a finger into your cunt. Her pace started off gentle and slow, before slowly increasing her pace little by little. Her pace matched the suction along your clit, and your moans couldn't help but grow louder.

"Be as loud as you wish, dear. I love hearing those pretty little moans."

Your hips begged to buck, wanting to push yourself impossibly closer towards her, but her strong hand kept you pinned down against the mattress.

"M-more, please. . ." You begged, gazing down at the woman between your legs.

Alcina slid a second finger past your entrance, eliciting a small whimper from you at the fullness of her fingers against your walls.

"You're so tight— just relax for me, Angel."

Your eyebrows knitted as you adjusted to her curled fingers, mouth agape as Alcina was giving you all of her attention. With every movement, your sweet spot got pleasured by her slender fingers, expertly curved just for you.

You did your best not to pull on her tight curls when your eyes rolled to the back of your head as her pace quickened.

"Yess, just like that—" You whined, head lulled back against the soft mattress.

Alcina felt your legs quiver around her, as you felt yourself quickly reaching your climax.

"You're close, aren't you?"

"Mhm. . ." You softly moaned out, hands clutching onto the comforter beneath you.

"Cum for me."

Your breath hitches in your throat, legs threatening to close around Alcina as not a moment later, you find yourself reaching your sweet release, coating her fingers with your juices.

"That's my good girl." Alcina cooed, keeping her relenting pace, wanting to see if she can get another one out of you.

Eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as Alcina never faltered, her slender fingers putting in their work and stretching your walls.

As she went to adjust her positioning, her round ass jiggled ever so slightly, the sight immediately being etched into your brain. It made you wonder how one could be built so perfectly, and it made your cheeks red when Alcina's gaze fell onto you, catching sight of you checking out her ass.

Her small chuckle sent vibrations through your core, your breathing picking up as you felt yourself getting close once more.

You tried, but failed to hide a whimper as Alcina quickly switched her fingers out with her tongue, wanting to get an extra taste of you as you came for a second time. Your orgasm hit you harder than before, toes roughly curling as she used her tongue to lap up your mess. She hummed when your climax reached her tongue, savoring every little taste she could get of you.

Her movements slowed as you came down from your high, gently licking a strip up your folds to taste you one last time before sitting herself up, allowing you both to catch your breath.

You watched as Alcina sat on her knees, fingers gliding past her lips to suck off the cum from her now messy fingers, yellow eyes closing for just a moment as she licked them completely clean.

Your eyes fell upon her large breasts as she leaned herself forward to hover above you, hands relaxing on either side of your head.

"You're just the most delicious little thing I've ever had. . ." Alcina spoke softly, her gaze fixated completely on you. "Where have you been all my life?" She asked, fully not expecting you to answer, but was shocked when you did.

"Waiting for you." You admitted with a slight blush to your cheeks, eliciting the most beautiful smile you had ever seen form on Alcina's face.

"Fuck, you're perfect."

Her lips smashed against your own, engulfing you in a quick but fiery kiss.

She rested her forward against yours, both of you relaxing into the other's touch. You never thought she would ever be this close to you, but her touch comforted you, it made you feel safe.

However, your clean thoughts didn't last long when she pushed her full breasts against your own as she peppered your face with small kisses.

"I wanna go again." You blurted out, when her kisses reached your jawline.

"What?" She lifted her head to look at your face.

"I said. . ." You lifted your thumb up to swipe over her bottom lip. "I want to go again," You gazed at her with lustful eyes. "Please, Alcina."

"I see I severely underestimated you." Alcina smirked.

As she attempted to lower herself back down, you quickly grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks.

"I want to be on top this time."

"Really?" She lifted a high brow, her smirk not leaving her face.

"Yes." You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked at her with your best begging eyes.

"Okay. . ." She was hesitant at first, as she had never dealt with anything like this before, and never, ever, had anybody even want to spend this much time with her. It was all new, and part of it scared her, but the other part was relieved that she no longer had to worry about crushing your smaller body.

Alcina repositioned herself to sit next to you, eyes never leaving your body movements as you gently moved yourself to her lap, but only straddling one of her thighs, which she instantly caught onto.

"Ahh, I see now. The little maid just needed something a little bit more physical, hmm? Such a needy little thing."

Due to her height, her breasts sat directly in front of your face, and you had to tilt you head up just to look at the woman in the face.

You run a hand down her chest, fingers stopping at the small clip at the front of her bra that held it closed.

"I also need to take this off. You got to see mine, I think it's only fair I get to see yours too."

Alcina smiled and playfully rolled her eyes at your response, loving the bit of confidence that you had to admit what you wanted.

"If that's what you want. . ." Alcina brings her hands to her chest, carefully unclipping the small clasp and sliding the thin lace off her body before throwing it to the side, freeing her large breasts from their holder.

Your eyes couldn't help but wander across her chest, your bottom lip tightly being pulled between your teeth as your gaze fixated on her breasts.

Alcina watched as your eyes lit up at her bare chest and reached a hand down to your own, bringing it up to her chest, and allowing you to feel her.

Her pale skin was soft and smooth like butter, and your hand slowly slid over every bare inch of her. As you lowered your hand, your thumb grazed over her hardened bud before pinching it between your fingers, eliciting a small gasp from Alcina at the unexpected pleasure.

Her hands slid down to your hips, kneading at the soft flesh as she slowly began to glide your cunt along the length of her thigh with ease as your wetness was still very prominent.

You cup her breast gently and toy with her nipple as she keeps a firm grip along your waist. Your hips start a gentle rhythm, slowly working your way across her thigh, softly moaning as you attempt to push yourself farther down.

Alcina watched with fascination at your neediness for her, and how quick it was for you to be completely at her mercy.

Before you knew it, your free hand had slid down her sternum, past her navel, and landed upon her thin lace panties that had been soaked since she made you cum for the first time. Your gaze fell upon hers, Alcina immediately knowing what you were asking for, and nodding her head reassuringly.

Your hand slid underneath the fabric, fingers gliding over her wet cunt as your hips rocked back and forth against her thigh. A soft moan escapes when your fingers circle Alcina's clit, gently giving pressure to her sensitive bud.

You bring your mouth to Alcina's chest, sending wet kissing all along her voluptuous pale breasts, following the slight pattern of her veins.

"Just like that my sweet girl." Alcina cooed, followed by a deep moan eliciting from the woman.

You do your best to fit her tit into your mouth, flicking your tongue against her nipple. Alcina's grip only grows tighter along your hips now that you weren't the only one getting pleasured, her trying to hold back her long line of deep moans at the contact she's been craving oh so much. Your fingers were doing wonders for her, pleasure coursing throughout her entire body in a way that had her going feral on the inside.

Alcina's hunger for you only grew stronger when you curled your fingers inside her needy cunt, her head lulling back at the sensation. Your movements, now turning slightly erratic as you felt a knot in your core.

"Alcina. . ." You softly moaned out her name, feeling yourself quickly spiraling towards your third orgasm.

Your soft moans harmonized perfectly in sync with her deep ones, both of you getting lost in the mountain of pleasure you were giving each other. You only gave her a moment to adjust to your fingers before you matched them with the pace of your hips, her wetness quickly dripping down your fingers and into the palm of your hand.

"Fuck— just like that." Alcina moaned out, eyes reopening and gazing back down at you, watching your frantic movements along her thigh and your lips wrapped around her nipple.

Her eyebrows knitted just as your breath caught in your throat, both of you completely on the brink of an orgasm.

"Cum with me, Y/N." Alcina tried to order but it came out as more of a beg, but she didn't care. All she wanted was for the two of you to finish at the same time.

You nodded your head frantically, vision going blurry as you came along her thick thigh. Not a moment later, Alcina deeply inhaled as your palm hit against her clit, causing her to cum just a moment later with a drawn out moan.

"Fuck—" You whimpered, legs shaking around her thigh as you calmed your erratic movements, trying to catch your breath.

Alcina was breathing heavily by the time she got through her orgasm, and deeply sighing as your fingers slipped out of her. You brought your hand to your mouth, flattening your tongue against the palm of your hand, lapping up her juices before shoving the same two fingers in your mouth to clean them from her release.

You hummed when your eyes met with hers, loving the taste of her along your tongue. But, before you got to enjoy it for too long, Alcina gently grappled your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth to make room for her lips, engulfing you in a passionate kiss. Her tongue slid past your parted lips, begging for a taste of what you had.

After a long minute of making out, you both broke the kiss simultaneously to catch your breath as neither of you had the chance to catch some air.

"You didn't have to do that, you know." Alcina finally spoke after a minute.

"I know, but I wanted to. You pleasure me, so I pleasure you, it's only fair." You said playfully.

"Then I guess next time I won't be so fair." Alcina toyed, forcing you to smile followed by a small chuckle.

She tucked a stray hair behind your ear before her face had suddenly changed its emotions, as if she was thinking about something. Her eyes had glued to your exposed neck, gazing at your veins and listening to the fast beat of your heart.

You watched her swallow with a distant gleam in her eye. Following her gaze, you realized what she was staring at.

Your neck.

"Alcina—" You gently cupped her cheek, pulling her out of her trance.

"What is it, dear?"

"You're thirsty, aren't you? And not for wine."

"Well— Yes, but that doesn't matter." She waves her hand, standoffish. "I have some old blood bags in the fridge—"

"You can drink mine." You immediately offered her.

"No, no. I'll find something or someone else." She averted her gaze, wanting to avoid the conversation of you being a potential victim.

"You won't hurt me." You repositioned yourself and tilted your head to the side, completely opening your neck to her. "I know you won't."

Alcina deeply exhaled, knowing she was dying to have a taste of you, but having a fear of taking it too far to the point where it was lethal. After all, she had a special liking towards you, and wouldn't forgive herself if something bad happened to you because of her being reckless.

"I can't—"

"It's okay." You took her larger hand in yours, interlacing your fingers with her long ones, and giving her hand a gentle squeeze, hoping to reassure her. "I trust you, Alcina. Let me help."

"Fine. . . But just this once." Alcina sighed, hesitating to move. She licked her stained red lips before slowly leaning her head towards you.

You felt her hot breath along your neck, and her hovering just over your skin.

"I trust you." You repeat yourself for her to encourage her to continue.

Her hand reaches for your jaw, holding your head still as she quickly takes in your scent with a deep inhale.

"You smell divine. . ." She admitted, her nose immediately sensing the fading of your perfume with the lovely smell of sex.

Once she found the right spot, Alcina was careful when sinking her fangs into your flesh. You grew silent as you did your best to remain still, sucking in a breath at the sharp sting along your skin. Her thumb stroked your cheek to help keep you calm and at ease.

The pain was mild, and was quick for you to get used to. Alcina hummed when she finally got a deeper taste of you, knowing that you were the sweetest thing she had ever had. Her eyes closed as she got her fix of what she needed most.

After a few minutes, your vision started to grow a tad blurry, and you instantly felt relieved when Alcina slowly took her fangs out of you as carefully as she could. She used her tongue to soothe the faintly reddened area, completely cleaning your neck of any blood.

"Thank you. . ." She licked her lips with a grateful smile and her cheeks slightly flushed.

"You're welcome." You smiled back.

"Let's get you cleaned up, darling." Alcina offered, gently lifting you from her lap and setting you back down on the bed beside her.

She left you alone for a minute as she grabbed a wet rag along with some supplies to take care of your wound. The two of you sat in silence as you used the rag to clean yourself off while Alcina tended to your neck, cleaning the area completely and placing a bandage on top. She gave your neck a small kiss before returning everything to the bathroom.

Once she came back out, Alcina noticed the tired look on your face, and smiled weakly.

"You must be exhausted, why don't you sleep in here tonight?" She offered, making her way back towards the bed.

"Where would I sleep?"

"With me of course." Alcina chuckles as she makes her way to her side of the bed, and takes her thong off before sliding under the lush sheets behind you. "Come on, lay with me." She lifted the sheets next to her, making room for you to slide in at her side.

The two of you faced each other, gazing into each other's eyes silently before Alcina broke the silence.

"Don't be shy dear, come closer." Alcina opened her arms for you.

You didn't hesitate to scoot closer towards her with a small smile, tucking your face into her neck and intertwining your legs with hers. You yawned just as Alcina wrapped an arm around you, pulling you flush against her warm body.

Sleep instantly took over you, exhaustion hitting you like a stack of bricks and you soon found yourself falling asleep in Alcina's arms as she gently traced patterns along your bare back.

She let herself enjoy the peaceful moment, waiting for you to be completely asleep before she allowed herself to fall into a deep slumber with you tucked safely in her arms.

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drarrily-we-row-along · 1 year ago

Text

October 2: Friends, Family, Loved Ones

It was Harry’s birthday, and as much he felt embarrassed when a big fuss was made over him, he loved that Draco had planned him a party out in the manor grounds, a big white tent lit up with sparkling fairy lights.

The food was good and the company even better. All of his friends, family, and loved ones gathered around playing games and telling stories; then once they were drunk enough, singing karaoke. He was giggling into his glass of wine (his favorite: Draco had given him an entire bottle just for him) as Hagrid finished a mopey ballad.

Draco was looking unbearably smug about how happy Harry was and Harry couldn’t help but find the smugness horribly endearing. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to his rosy cheek, warm from wine and happiness, “I love you,” he murmured before tucking his nose against Draco’s neck, “thank you for a brilliant birthday.”

“Sap,” Draco accused with a soft tsk, but he was pulling Harry closer, pressing kisses into his hair. “I have one more surprise for you,” he said, and Harry could hear the quiet undercurrent of nerves.

He kissed Draco’s neck, pausing to suck lightly at it just to hear him gasp and feel his body wriggle, “you’ve spoiled me rotten today already,” he said and he’d meant it to sound accusatory but it only came out ridiculously pleased and terribly fond, his whole chest like spun cotton candy, fluffy and light, and sticky sweet.

“Well,” Draco said, “this one is a little bit selfish.”

Harry hummed and just cuddled a little closer so that he was more in Draco’s chair than his own.

"I have to get up to give it to you," he said, chuckling softly and pressing even more kisses into Harry's hair.

With a heaving sigh, he forced his body upright once more with a piteous groan.

His boyfriend leaned down and pecked his lips, "Love you," he murmured against his mouth.

"Mmmh," he hummed, wrapping a hand around Draco's neck and drawing him closer.

"Menace," Draco murmured, kissing him, kissing him, kissing him, like there was nothing else that he'd rather do.

Harry grinned up at him when he pulled back, trailing the tips of his fingers over Draco's flushed cheeks.

"Tell me you love me," Draco requested, soft and sweet, smiling and open.

"I love you," he said, soft and sure, the truest thing he's ever known.

With a mischievous smirk, he gave Harry a wink and sauntered off. It was a couple minutes later when Draco appeared on stage, wearing a sequin top and a pair of short white shorts, tummy peaking out as he pulled the microphone out of the holder.

He cleared his throat, "I wanted to thank you all for being here to celebrate my very favorite person," he said and Harry's face stretched into a smile so wide it made his cheeks hurt. "And also for bearing witness to what's about to happen," he added as the choruses of 'awws' and whistling died down.

Draco gave a nod to Blaise who was standing at the ready by the karaoke machine waiting to hit play. And then Draco started singing, looking out at Harry with a huge grin.

"The moon is high, like your friends the night that we first met," he started.

And Harry laughed at the memory, they had all been high that night after they'd graduated. Lounging about or dancing around the club, causing all sorts of chaos.

"Now I've read all of the books beside your bed," he continued with a wink. Harry grinned up at him, because that was true too, they'd read most of them together, actually, curled up under the duvet. He hadn't been read to as a child, but Draco more than made up for it with the voices and the dramatic way he read.

"The wine is cold, like the shoulder that I gave you in the street. Cat and mouse for a month, or two, or three," he sang on, twisting his body to look at Harry coyly and Harry remembered the months between when he’d started to feel attracted to Draco and when Draco had started to believe him, "now I wake up in the night to watch you breathe."

There was another round of 'awes' and some pretend wretching but Draco rolled his eyes and sang on. Meeting Harry's gaze once more as he sang, "I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings," and Harry's heart flew into his throat at the implication, did he mean it? Was that even possible?

"And I hate accidents, except when we went from friends," he gestured between the two of them, "to this."

His heart burst, Draco did so hate the unplanned, abhorred surprises. That proclamation-

"Darling, you're the one I want in paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams-" a chorus of laughter and whistling broke out and Draco's cheeks flushed bright red but he kept singing, staring at Harry with a naked devotion and affection.

He couldn't breathe with it, his heart rattled painfully around his chest.

Draco sang the next verse before jumping down off the stage and making his way to Harry, bending down as he sang "kiss me once, cause you know I've had a long night," Harry leaned in obligingly and kissed his cheek. "Kiss me twice cause it's gonna be alright," and there were those nerves tingling from Draco's consciousness and into Harry's. He leaned in and kissed his cheek again. "Three times, cause I've waited my whole life." And this time he leaned in to press a hasty kiss to Harry's lips like he couldn't help himself while they counted him back in.

He sang the refrain again, climbing into Harry's lap as he melted into the bridge, "I want to drive away with you, I want your complications too, I want your dreary Mondays-"

Harry's throat went tight around those words, around the way that Draco loved him when he couldn't make heads or tails of the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him.

"-Wrap your arms around me, baby boy," he said, giving one of Harry's arms a little tug.

He repeated the bridge, wrapping an arm around Harry's neck and carding his fingers tenderly through Harry's curls, making Harry tear up again as he stared up into those beautiful silver eyes.

Draco moved into the refrain again, slower and a little sweeter, like a promise. "I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings." Harry gripped him a little tighter, "you're the one I want," he sang softly. "And I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this, uh huh, darling.”

He jumped up, Harry’s fingers trailing after him as he went, singing the refrain again as he made his way to Pansy who was holding out a small box for him. “In paper rings, in picture frames, in all my dreams,” he sang as he made his way back over and dropped to his knees. “You’re the one I want,” he sang, looking up as he opened the box to reveal a gold band.

Harry’s hands flew to his mouth, like a complete cliche, “Draco,” he whispered as the crowd around them went unnaturally still.

“Marry me?” he asked, eyes tight around the edges like he thought Harry could possibly say no.

“Yes, of course yes,” he said, “you silly, perfect man. Of course.”

The room erupted into cheering but Harry could hardly hear it, too wrapped up in his love to notice.

—————————

Written for @flufftober prompt 2 “friends, family, loved ones”

#drarry #love #soft #fluff #proposal #flufftober #day 2 #we’re behind but 🤷🏼‍♀️ what can you do?#paper rings #I’m a little obsessed with that song #and it seems like Draco really would be singing that at karaoke #short and sweet #silly #established relationships

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meetmyothersouls · 1 year ago

Note

yes okay Jonah hauer king coming your way!

What about an little fluff fic, coming home after a hard stressful day at work, and you’ve cooked a lovely meal for the both of you (wine included) and all Jonah wants is to cuddle and relax

I’m so happy to be making content for Jonah as well!

Bed

Warnings: fluff, kissing, neck kissing

Domestic life with Jonah fell into place nicely and actually quite easily. You were worried that his newly heightened fame would put pressure on your relationship, but it actually did the opposite, the two of you were closer than ever. You still got butterflies even thinking about Jonah.

After all The Little Mermaid buzz had calmed down, Jonah was finally going to have some down time, maybe even a little mini “vacation” before his next project started. You decided to kick it all off with a nice home made dinner. You chose to make the lasagna recipe you got from your grandma; a recipe that had proven to be Jonah’s favorite over the last few years and since he wasn’t due home for a few hours, you had just enough time to make it.

After a good forty-five minutes of prep and assembly, the lasagna was finally in the oven. You set the table complete with the ‘nice candles’ for ambiance, and turned to the wine rack to get his favorite bottle, of course placed all the way at the top where only Jonah’s six foot stature could reach. You stood on your top toes, but your fingers barely grazed the bottle.

“Need some help with that?” Jonah asked, startling you directly into the wine rack. “Whoa!” He laughed as he steadied you and the wine rack. You turn around and look up at him as he flashes you his sweet smile.

“You’re early,” you said to him, placing your palm to his chest and standing on your tip toes, this time to kiss him.

“Caught an earlier flight to get back to you sooner,” Jonah replied, barely taking his lips off yours to do so. “And now, all I wanna do is get you to bed.”

You melted into his body as his hands braced your back and pressed you into him. He kissed you deeper, groaning as you pulled away. “Beddd,” Jonah whined.

“But I made us dinner,” you whined back. “Don’t you want to eat first?”

“Mmm, what if we ate it in the morning?” He asked.

You laughed against his lips just as the oven beeped three times. “It’s lasagna, Jonah.”

You took the dish out of the oven and placed it on a couple of pot holders to avoid scorching the counter tops.

“Well I guess I can make an exception for that,” Jonah said, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He placed a gentle kiss on your neck, almost making you change your mind. “But, as soon as we’re done I want you in our bed for the next…I dunno…eight days at least.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said.

And it really did.

Tags: @danielabetancourth @luna2034 @wandamaximoffbae @twinkledinkle

✨ Let me know if you’d like to be added to my Jonah taglist!✨

#jonah hauer king #jonah hauer king imagine #jonah hauer king fan fiction #jonah hauer-king #jonah hauer king x reader #jonah hauer-king imagine #the little mermaid #writing #fan fiction

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kjack89 · 10 months ago

Text

Say Don't Go

E/R, canon era. Some light angst for your Friday evening (or whatever your timezone equivalent). Implied canonical character death, blood mention.

The candle in the back room of the Musain flickered with increasing unsteadiness, its melted wax having long since overflowed from the holder. Shadows cast by its inconsistent light danced along the walls, accompanied solely by the sound of Enjolras’s pen scritching across paper and the methodic dull thud of Grantaire’s wine bottle as it was lifted to lips then returned to its place.

Without warning, the candle spluttered out, plunging the room into darkness.

“I suppose we should take that as a sign,” Grantaire said, a moment later, and Enjolras sighed.

“You may,” he said shortly, standing and fumbling to light another candle. “Would that my work ceased with the absence of light.”

He successfully lit another candle, lighting the room once more, and Grantaire just shook his head. “But does your work not bring light into the world of its own accord?” he mused.

Enjolras glanced at him. “Coming from you, that is almost a compliment.”

Grantaire laughed. “Only if we are in the business of considering drunken rambling to be complimentary.”

“Again, from you…”

Enjolras trailed off and Grantaire laughed again, a somewhat gentler sound this time. “That I suppose is the most potent sign yet that I should take my leave, before my words somehow bring offense, intended or otherwise.”

He stood and Enjolras glanced up at him. “You need not leave on my account,” he said.

Grantaire paused, something unreadable flickering across his face. “Truly?”

“Grantaire, if I made a point of removing you every time you caused offense, you would never again attend another Les Amis meeting,” Enjolras said patiently, already looking back down at his papers.

But still Grantaire hesitated. “There remains a difference between my presence at one of our meetings versus my presence here, after hours, with just you as company.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Grantaire worried his lower lip between his teeth before blurting, “Would you permit any other attendee of our meetings to stay late into the night with you in this way?”

“No other attendees are brave enough to attempt it,” Enjolras murmured.

“Or fool enough,” Grantaire countered.

Enjolras glanced up with a small smile. “That too,” he agreed.

Grantaire hesitated for a moment more before shrugging. “Very well,” he said, taking his seat again. “If you truly do not mind.”

“I have far more important things to concern myself with than how you choose to spend your evening,” Enjolras told him.

“Yes,” Grantaire said, reaching automatically for his bottle of wine. “I imagine you do.”

— — — — —

“Sit,” Grantaire ordered, in a tone that brooked no argument, pointing at a chair as he crossed to the washbasin, rolling his shirt sleeves up.

To his surprise, Enjolras sat without complaint, which in and of itself was evidence that forcing him to sit and stay still was the best move. Joly might have additional advice, but he had been swept up in the crowd after the National Guard had interrupted their assembly, leaving Grantaire alone to close his hand around Enjolras’s wrist and bodily drag him from the scene.

But not before Enjolras managed to get himself hit in the temple by the butt of a musket.

It was with slightly shaking hands that Grantaire managed to wet a cloth in the washbasin, and he took a deep, steadying breath before turning back to Enjolras, and the blood that matted the entire right hand side of his face. “I’m certain it looks worse than it is,” Enjolras murmured, though he didn’t quite meet Grantaire’s eyes as he said it.

“And I am certain that you do not find yourself in a position to determine as such,” Grantaire said, reaching out to tilt Enjolras’s chin just slightly with two fingers before finally reaching out with the wet cloth.

Enjolras winced at the touch and would have flinched away were it not for Grantaire holding his head steady. “I can do that,” he protested, his voice little more than a mumble, as Grantaire began washing the blood from the side of his face.

Grantaire made a small dissenting noise, his eyes not leaving the gash at Enjolras’s hairline. “You certainly can,” he murmured. “But I have little faith that you would if left to your own devices.”

“To be fair, you have little faith in just about everything,” Enjolras returned evenly.

A smile twitched at the corner of Grantaire’s mouth. “Well, save for—”

“Your full glass, yes,” Enjolras said, rolling his eyes. “Do you ever grow weary of making the same jest?”

“Haven’t yet,” Grantaire told him, straightening to return to the washbasin and rinse the cloth. As he did, Enjolras stretched and made the tell-tale signs of beginning to stand, and Grantaire whipped around instantly, scowling. “Did I say you could stand?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes once more. “I am fine,” he told Grantaire, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Grantaire pursed his lips. “I did not say otherwise.”

“Well enough to stand, at the very least,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Now that remains to be seen.” He pointed again at the chair before ordering, for a second time, “Sit.”

Enjolras sat, scowl firmly in place. “I think you are enjoying this,” he said, a little sourly, and Grantaire’s shoulders tensed as he hunched over the washbasin, the water in it pink with blood.

“You think that I enjoy tending to your wounds?”

Grantaire’s voice was quiet but Enjolras still flinched as if he had shouted. “I did not mean—”

Again Grantaire turned to him, his face impassive as he took his previous spot at Enjolras side, pressing the cloth once more to Enjolras’s head. “My preference would be that you not be harmed seemingly every time you get it in your head to set foot out your door, but my vote, it seems, does not carry much weight.”

Enjolras winced, though it did not appear to be from the pressure Grantaire was applying. “I—”

“What?”

Enjolras sighed. “I apologize.”

Grantaire blinked, his hand not moving. “There really is a first time for everything.”

For a long moment, they sat like that in silence before Enjolras rolled his shoulders and tilted his head, trying to catch Grantaire’s eye. “I do mean what I said earlier, though.”

“Which part?” Grantaire asked.

“That I can do this myself,” Enjolras told him, reaching up to rest a hand on top of Grantaire’s and the cloth still pressed to his temple. “You need not stay.”

Grantaire just made a small humming noise of what could have been agreement or dissent in equal measure. “I shall take that under advisement,” he murmured, making absolutely no move to pass the cloth to Enjolras or otherwise move.

Enjolras sighed, his hand dropping to his lap. “You shall be the death of me,” he said sourly.

A ghost of a smile flitted across Grantaire’s face. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

— — — — —

Grantaire sat upright, swinging his legs over to the side of the bed but making no attempt to stand. He glanced back at Enjolras, sprawled next to him, the light from the moon filtering through the window casting Enjolras’s usually golden curls with a silver sheen. “What?” Enjolras asked, something languid and almost sleepy in his tone.

“Nothing,” Grantaire said, his fingers twitching against the bed sheets.

A frown puckered Enjolras’s forehead. “And yet you look as though you are waiting for me to say something.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Perhaps I am.”

Enjolras sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Would it not be easier to tell me what you wished to hear?” he asked, something like frustration coloring his words. “I am—” For the first time that evening, even more so than when he had asked Grantaire to accompany him to his bed hours earlier, Enjolras hesitated. “You know that I am not experienced in this regard, so if there is any set of usual platitudes I should be offering—”

Grantaire let out a noise like a snort, shaking his head. “After all this time, you think I seek mere platitudes?” he asked, his voice low.

Enjolras rolled onto his side to face him. “Truth be told, I know not what you seek,” he said, matching Grantaire’s tone. “From me, from this, from any of it.”

Grantaire just shook his head. “All this time, I have sought only one thing.”

He said it simply, evenly, and Enjolras frowned, looking away. “That is what I feared most of all,” he said quietly. “That you should seek the one thing that I cannot offer.”

For one long moment, Grantaire just looked at him, something unreadable in his expression. Then he sighed and drew a hand across his face. “I know what you presume I wish to hear, but you are wrong,” he said. “Never have I expected to hear those three sweet words from your lips in this or any lifetime.” He leaned over so that his lips were practically against Enjolras’s ear. “I would settle instead for two.”

“Two?” Enjolras breathed.

Grantaire nodded. “Don’t go,” he murmured.

Enjolras shifted away slightly so that he could frown at him. “You wish for me to tell you to stay?”

Grantaire shook his head. “No. I wish for you to ask me not to go.”

Enjolras’s frown deepened. “I see no difference—”

“I suppose you wouldn’t, so used are you to having every request treated as an edict,” Grantaire mused, straightening once more. “And that is what telling me to stay would be: a command. You and I both know I have had no great success at following commands, even the ones given by you.” He paused, his eyes searching Enjolras’s for a long moment. “But while you have commanded many things of me, all of which I have failed, never once have you asked anything of me. So if there are only two words I could hear fall from your lips, it would be that request alone.”

Enjolras looked away. “Must I ask for something that is offered freely?”

Something tightened in Grantaire’s expression, but his voice was even as he replied, “Only so that the person offering knows that it is not he alone who wants it.”

Silence stretched between them for a long moment, broken only by Enjolras’s eventual sigh as he rolled over onto his other side, his back to Grantaire. “If you wish to stay, stay.”

Grantaire swallowed and nodded with unspoken understanding. “And I think it best that I go.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “If that is what you wish.”

— — — — —

Enjolras ground his teeth together, frustration palpable. “Go home, Grantaire.”

Grantaire just smirked, lifting the bottle of wine in his hand but not drinking from it. “Give me one compelling reason why I should,” he challenged.

“You are drunk.”

Enjolras said it flatly, his disappointment clear, and Grantaire’s smirk sharpened. “That has never hindered my staying in the past.”

“Fine,” Enjolras said impatiently. “You are drunk and you are annoying me.”

Still Grantaire looked amused. “Again, never before have you found that a hindrance.”

“Well, I find it one tonight.”

Grantaire set the bottle down, propping his chin on his hand as he looked thoughtfully at Enjolras. “I don’t believe that you do.”

Enjolras scowled. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard what I said, unless you have suffered yet another injury, this time to your ears,” Grantaire said, before repeating, enunciating every syllable, “I don’t believe you.”

“You think that I speak falsely?” Enjolras asked, with a dangerous sort of calm.

Grantaire just shrugged. “It is less that I find your words false and more that I understand your meaning to differ from what you speak.”

Enjolras scoffed, looking down at the pamphlet in front of him. “I don’t believe even you know what that means.”

Grantaire’s smirk became brittle. “It means that you say one thing, knowing that I will understand what it is you truly wish to say but cannot allow yourself to.”

Now Enjolras looked up sharply, his lips pressed together into a flat line. “You know not of what you speak,” he said, the same dangerous edge to the words.

A dangerous edge that Grantaire did not heed. “Don’t I?”

“No.”

Something tightened in Grantaire’s face and he leaned forward, urgency in every line of his body. “I, who have spent every day of the past few years deconstructing every sentence you have ever uttered?” he asked quietly. “I alone who has spent uncountable hours at your side to hear what words you do not share with even your closest friends? You think I know not of what you speak?”

His volume had risen considerably by the end, and Enjolras just lifted his chin, meeting his glare coolly. “You have deluded yourself into believing this is more than what it is. You may lace your words with hidden meanings and double entendres, but that does not mean—”

Grantaire barked a dry, humorless laugh, scrubbing a hand across his mouth. “And now you accuse me of not saying what it is I think!” He stood abruptly, taking only a few automatic steps toward Enjolras. “My God, man, I could not be any more transparent with my thoughts, with my feelings, if I tried. I ruminate and I ramble and every thought that has ever existed in my head has seemingly also passed my lips, but you—“

He broke off, shaking his head, equal parts admiring and grudging. “Every word that passes your lips is weighed, measured, considered,” he said. “Each sentence as carefully constructed as any of your plans. And so I have taught myself to read between your pauses just as surely as your words, to find meaning in each breath and every hesitation. Call me deluded if you must, but do not sit there and tell me that I do not know of what I speak, in this instance at the very least.”

Enjolras said nothing, and Grantaire took another step towards him, reaching out for his hand. “There may only be two words I have ever wanted to hear, but it does not mean you have not said them in every way that matters. And that is why I do not believe you find my presence a hindrance, on this or any night.”

But Enjolras just pulled his hand away, his expression carefully neutral. “Go home, Grantaire.”

Grantaire’s hand fell to his side. “So be it,” he said. “But returning to my home will not change the meaning of any words said here tonight – or anything left unsaid.”

“I know,” Enjolras said quietly, so softly that Grantaire almost could not hear him. “I only wish that it could.”

— — — — —

There was no moon in the sky, and the only candle in the room had long since extinguished itself.

Still, Grantaire moved with practiced ease, finding his clothes where he had flung them a few hours earlier. He shrugged into his shirt, doing up the buttons with long, nimble fingers, pale against the stark blackness of the room.

Enjolras watched with hooded eyes as Grantaire tugged his trouser on and then stood, disappearing a little at a time under each additional layer, the hastily buttoned waistcoat, the sloppily tied cravat.

Neither man made any attempt to speak.

Perhaps all that needed to be said had been.

Or perhaps both feared breaking the tentative, unspoken truce that had led Grantaire again to Enjolras’s bed that night.

In any case, Grantaire turned to the door without sparing Enjolras an additional glance, and only then did he hesitate, his hand on the doorknob.

Without warning, he turned, crossing back to the bed and reaching for Enjolras, his hand gentle against the back of Enjolras’s neck as he pulled him up just enough to press a single long kiss to Enjolras’s forehead, the kiss like a benediction, a sacrament.

Penance and absolution in one.

His fingers carded through the wispy curls at the nape of Enjolras’s neck, but still he made no attempt to speak, or otherwise break the moment.

A moment that was not enough, and could never be enough, but the only moment that Enjolras had ever granted.

He held onto the moment as though he could somehow force it to be enough.

Then he straightened, and this time, when he left, he did not turn back.

— — — — —

Grantaire, roused by the silence, stumbled forward, his eyes fixed on Enjolras and only Enjolras. Just as always.

He brushed past the National Guard as though they were no more than mere specters, for in that moment, they were. One final impetus for the unspoken conversation that had ruled what little he had forged with Enjolras over the years.

“Do you permit it?” he asked, the simple question that defined their entire existence, that narrated the way their lives were forever entwined and hurtling towards this moment no matter what either man had tried to wrought along the way.

Enjolras’s answer to the question was as immaterial as ever, because Grantaire had always known what the answer was, or would be. Had known it as certainly as he knew that it would end like this.

His answer was in the soft smile Enjolras gave him there at the end of all things. It was in the gentle press of his palm against Grantaire’s, just as it had been in every kiss, every touch, every gasp wrung from Enjolras’s body. Grantaire had heard what he so longed to hear in every way that mattered, in the end.

He only hoped that Enjolras knew it, too.

There was no time now to ask, no time to speak, but so much of them had lived in the unsaid that it mattered not.

The final volley of gunfire sounded, but Grantaire did not hear it. His eyes were still fixed on Enjolras, and he heard but one thing, one final time:

Don’t go.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #canon era #developing relationship #sort of ish #major character death cw #canonical major character death #injury cw #blood cw #light angst #someone's inevitably going to get mad at me for calling this 'light' angst and you know what? I welcome it

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gamma-rae-bursts · 1 year ago

Text

Persuasion

Pairing: Alex Blake x Fem!Reader

Warnings: slight alcohol consumption ig

Genre: pure fluff

Word Count: 1800+

A/N: Last day of the bingo!! This fic covers the "flower petals" square. For the purpose of this fic Ethan is alive and well, Alex deserves to be happy. Absolutely UNEDITED. Enjoy!

It was going to be perfect; you had no doubts about it.

You’ve spent weeks planning this evening, making sure everything would go according to the plan and it just so happened that the universe aligned itself with your plans. Alex didn’t get called away on another case, promising you she’d return home right when her workday was over. Ethan was spending the week with his dad, and although you’d love nothing more than having the little boy included in this special moment, knowing him well enough you were sure he wouldn’t be able to contain his excitement and keep the secret. He was 8 after all.

It was your day off at Georgetown. Most Fridays you opted to work from home as you didn’t teach any classes, but this time you took an extra precaution of actually booking the day off to make sure you didn’t get called in any meetings with your students.

The morning was reserved for a trip to the farmer’s market. You picked up a few ingredients necessary for the dinner you have planned. A few aubergines, butternut squash, asparagus and fresh strawberries, the rest could be found at home. You were walking down the busy alleys, the sun shining through the clouds filled the city with warmth unusual for this time of year, but you didn’t complain, stopping by another stand to pick out a gorgeous assortment of red, white and pink peonies, one of Alex’s favourite flowers.

Strolling down the streets of Washington DC, you made a few more stops on your way home.

You stopped by a frequented by you and Alex wine cellar, picking up a few bottles of Pinot Noir, after asking the seller countless number of times whether he’s absolutely certain that the wine will pair well with the dinner you have planned.

The last stop was Cartier, were you finally got to pick up the ring you customised a few weeks prior. The golden band was adorned with diamonds, a beautiful tear-shaped stone in the middle. It was pretty simple, classy for that matter, and in your opinion absolutely perfect for Alex.

You made your way back home, after unpacking the shopping you immediately got to work. You pulled out all the decorations you have stashed them deep inside your closet when Alex was away on cases, starting with setting the table, a white tablecloth covered the wooden furniture, flowing off of the edges just right. You put a set of golden candle holders in the middle, placing the candles in their corresponding spots. You attached a few strings of warm lights to the window curtains, hoping they would enhance the atmosphere of the evening.

After that, you finally got to assembling the peony bouquets, taking out a few flowers to lay them on the table. The rest went into decorative vases you placed in the vicinity of the table, replacing previously given to you by your girlfriend irises. Although as a result of time (and your forgetfulness when it came to keeping flowers alive), the bouquets were rather dried out, you didn’t throw them away, but moved them to your bedroom. For an unknown to you reason Alex was adamant on keeping them until they were fully dry, then getting rid of them herself.

After the whole setup was finished, you started with preparing the main course: Butternut Squash Ravioli with Seared Chicken, handmaking the pasta that was to be filled with a butternut squash and ricotta filling, a recipe Rossi provided you with after your endless begging and pleading for it. When the raviolis were done (you did check with the Italian man whether the pasta was properly shaped), ready to be cooked right before the linguists planned arrival, you set them aside to start working on the dessert, cheesecake filled strawberries. You set those aside in the fridge and with a little time to spare you got to making the starter, an Aubergine Tartar.

With all the food either ready or ready to be cooked when the time comes, you started on getting yourself ready. You took a quick shower, after which, feeling refreshed and ready, you got to putting your makeup on. You decided on a natural eyeshadow, enhanced by your eyeliner and red lipstick. The clothing of your choice was a little black dress, one of Alex’s favourites, one that hugged your curves perfectly in all the right places. You put on a pair of black heels, a pearl necklace and matching to it earrings.

Looking at the time, you were certain the linguist might walk through the door any minute now, so you rushed to light up the candles and turn on the window lights, dimming all other lighting in the room. You put on Alex’s favourite playlist, one full of classics, setting the atmosphere perfect for what was about to come.

The last thing to be done was placing the ring in a case you prepared yourself. You opted for something more personalised than a simple box. You got one of Alex’s favourite novels, the one she would never admit is one of her favourites, Persuasion by Jane Austen. You carefully cut a heart shape through the pages up to page 148, where you highlighted the words “I”, “love” and “you” and hung the ring on a piece of ribbon so that it would sit amongst the highlighted text, although now thinking about it you were worried that you might give her a heart attack, so you made a mental note to reassure the brunette that her beloved copy is still safe and sound on her bookshelf. You decorated the book with a red ribbon, tying in in a perfect bow that sat right in the centre of the cover.

You placed the book on the table next to the couch, making it easy to reach when the moment for you to gift it to your hopefully soon-to-be fiancé would come.

Just as you were done setting everything up you heard the familiar sound of clattering keys outside of your apartment. You quickly rushed away from the small table, heading towards the kitchen. Just as Alex entered the apartment you managed to open the wine you purchased earlier today and pour some for the two of you, leaving the glasses on the kitchen island.

“Welcome home.” you said heading towards the older woman. God was she ever so beautiful, you must admit you had a soft spot for all her suits, and despite the tiring workday behind her she still looked as stunning as ever.

She softly smiled at you, taking her coat and shoes off before heading deeper into the apartment. You placed a gentle kiss on her cheek before taking her hand in yours

“Is there something I’m forgetting?” she questioned taking in the surroundings, the room was lit by the dimmed light coming from the fairy lights hung on the curtains, accompanied by the warm light of the candles. “I’m pretty sure our anniversary isn’t until February?”

“Can’t a girl treat her girlfriend to a nice dinner after a long day at work?” you replied with a sly smile, picking up the wine glasses and handing one to Alex.

“I guess she can.” The linguist replied, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Come, you relax and I’ll have the food plated.”

Alex did just as you asked, taking a seat at the table, you served the starter and took your seat as well. The two of you chatted over the food, Alex catching you up on all the recent cases as well as the typical BAU “drama”. You laughed together while you served her the main course, now definitely knowing you’ve fully exposed your cooking skills and there was no way back.

“I have a feeling there is more to this than just an after-work dinner?” she asked with a smile plastered across her face.

“You’d be right about that my love.” You giggled as you stood up from your seat. “Seen right through me, wouldn’t expect any less from a profiler.” You added with a grin, walking towards the little table the novel was resting on. You took the book in your hands, heading back towards the linguist who was still sitting at the table. “I got you a little something,”

She took the book in her hands, carefully examining the cover, tracing her fingers over the indented feathers scattered across it. She gently untied the ribbon, taking in the beauty of the limited edition of the novel when she whispered “How did you find it?”

“I have my sources.” you replied with the utmost adoration for the woman sitting in front of you. “I think you should open it.”

Alex did just as you asked, her eyes widening at what was hidden inside. “I-… are you-“ She looked up from the book to see you down on one knee right in front of her.

“Alex Blake, will you marry me?”

“Oh my god.” she whispered, still not fully believing what was happening. “Yes, god yes!” she added, cupping your cheeks in her hands and placing one of the softest yet most passionate kisses on your lips.

You giggled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her even closer to you. When you finally pulled away you could see her eyes glistening with tears of happiness, you untangled the ring from the ribbon that was holding it, sliding it onto her finger.

She carefully wiped the stray tears that escaped her eyes, her face still painted with that beautiful smile of hers, when she spoke again. “Give me one moment.” Alex said before she ran off to your bedroom.

The woman came back holding what looked like a glass vase filled with something you couldn’t quite recognise and a little black box. She walked up to you, setting the items on the table in front of you.

Looking up at you, she took one of your hands into her embrace. “I um… These are the petals from all the flowers we’ve ever gotten for each other, you’ve been always asking me why I’m so adamant on getting rid of them myself so I think it’s time to give you an answer now.” The older woman chuckled slightly as she kept explaining. “From our first date I knew I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I thought this will be a nice addition, the petals representing the whole length of our relationship being thrown down as we walk down the aisle.”

“Alex… I-“ it was time for you to start tearing up, the smile not leaving your face.

“Now I know you beat me to it,” she whispered, picking up the small black box off the table “But will you marry me?”

The tears were now freely falling down your cheeks as you looked in her beautiful hazel eyes. “God, you know I will!”

It was now Alex’s turn to slide the ring onto your finger. Although this wasn’t exactly the turn of events you expected you couldn’t be happier. You get to spend the rest of your life with her by your side after all.

taglist:

@nightmarish-fae @storiesofsvu @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @venromanova @geekyandgay98 @lisaannwalterstan @maybe-a-humanbean @bratty-subby-girly @desperate-gay @emilynissangtr

join my taglist here!

#raeswritingbingo #alex blake #alex blake x reader #criminal minds

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tillthelandslide · 1 year ago

Text

International Friendship Day - Matty Healy One Shot

I wrote this fic to celebrate today. P.s I did not proofread it.

She sits in a black leather spiny chair in her home studio, her legs are crossed underneath her, a light green electric guitar resting in her lap, her hands moving down the neck of it, fingers moving against the frets as she tries different chords out. A pair of black headphones sat on top of her head and she had moved the microphone in front of her so she could sing sitting down. She grunts when a certain chord doesn't sound the way she wants it to, nearly swearing when she can't figure it out.

Her doorbell (which she has ignored twice already) sounds again, the grating noise which she really must change, finds her ears again and she swears.

"For fuck sake" she stands from her chair, placing the guitar in it's holder, removing her headphones and walking to the front door.

"You will not give in will you... Probably just a freaking package... Just leave it next door" she mumbles to herself, gasping when she opens the door, revealing someone unexpected.

"Happy international friendship day love!" Matty says, his curls are loose on his head and he's sprouted a few more greys since the last time she saw him, of course she saw them on their daily face time calls but they seemed brighter in person. He holds red roses in one hand, a bottle of red wine in the other and her favourite snacks clasped in-between his fingers, somehow managing to not drop them. She feels kind of sad that he's holding so much, otherwise she would've launched herself towards him already.

"Thought you were in LA... Or New York or some shit" she says making him chuckle and shake his head.

"Nope. I'm here" he smirks at her and she crosses her arms at him, looking him up and down, needing to take him in after having not seen him in person for a few months.

"Well duh.... You're outside my flat"

"I'm outside your flat" he confirms with a nod of his head "going to let me in?" He asks, and she smiles, nods and steps aside. They walk to her kitchen where Matty places the items he's holding down, reminding himself to open her cabinet which holds her vases after properly saving hello.

He turns to face her and smiles widely, opening his arms widely. She runs into his arms, Matty hooking his hands underneath her bum and lifting her up, her legs close around his hips and she tucks her head into his neck.

"God I missed you..." He mumbles into her neck, squeezing her tightly.

"Can't believe you're here... Why are you here again?" She says, pulling back to look at him. He walks them until she's sitting on the counter, but he remains in-between her legs, holding her tightly to him by her waist as she holds his shoulders.

"It's national best friend day!" He says excitedly.

"You don't believe in that shit... You think it's just another occasion capitalists can exploit poor people into buying more shit" she says and he laughs.

"Hey I'm a changed man!"

"I heard... You're back on social media again..." He laughs at her, quickly saying a "we can talk about that later"

"Your neighbour text me saying you've been listening to my entire discography on repeat... Except it's only the sad songs... Which means two things. One: you're sad" he begins, shes scoffs at his words, mumbling a "good observation".

"And two: you miss me" he says proudly.

"God you're insufferable sometimes... Why am I friends with you again? Please remind me" he laughs again before pulling her into another hug.

"Shut up... You love me"

"When did you start talking to my neighbor?" She asks.

"Why? Jealous?" He gets a shove on the chest at that and he laughs.

"She asked for my number at your last party, said she needed it so she can text me when you get... Well like this" he explains.

"Hey I'm fine thank you very much!" She says, removing her hands from his shoulders and crossing them over her chest.

"Don't be like that" he says, uncrossing them for her and holding her hands in his.

"Tell me what's wrong..." He says, he stares into her eyes for two, maybe three seconds before she's breaking.

"Everything's wrong... I can't fucking write any songs, I'm failing as a musician, I haven't eaten a proper meal in like three days, I'm fucking tired" she begins listing, Matty makes a mental note to order them food.

"And I fucking missed you..." She finally admits.

"Love" he says, his eyes softening. His fingertips caress her cheek and her eyes flutter closed.

"I'm here now... And we can work on the song part... Come on I can tell you've been in your studio, show me what you've got so far" he says and she nods, smiling a kind of sad smile at him. He takes a step back, removing himself from her legs and helping her jump down from the counter.

They walk to the studio together and she shows Matty what she's been working on so far, he really likes it and helps her tweek a few bits, recommending different things he thinks would sound good. At some point Matty orders them food (without her knowing). Eventually they're both squished onto the one chair she has in the room. She's resting in his lap, scrunched up in a little ball and he's hand is smoothing down her back.

"So Twitter... Kinda made your fans feral with the return" she says, she had lifted his top up slightly, her fingertips now grazing his "we are kings tattoo".

"been keeping tabs on me love?" He says, his pointer finger and thumb hooking under her chin and gently pulling until she's looking at him.

"Said I missed you didn't I? Besides... When your best friend returns to social media without telling you... His fans are going to make you aware of it" she says, and he shakes his head, mumbling an "unbelievable".

"What have you heard then? I'll confirm or deny now" he says and she nods, thinking about things she's read.

"People think you're dating Taylor again... Or still dating her... I don't know" she shrugs.

"Well you know that was never true... Not true even now" he says and she nods again.

"good" he raises his eyebrows at that and she closes her mouth, hating that the word slipped out.

"Yeah? Happy I'm not dating her?" He asks and she pauses, thinking about her options. She knew she could deter the conversation in a different direction like she had for years, avoiding her feelings for her best friend, or she could finally, finally be brave and tell him the truth. What's the worse that could happen? This is Matty were talking about, her best friend, everyone around them knew how mad he was about her and she had an incline too, she was just too afraid it would change too much.

"Happy you're not dating full stop." She says and he pulls back slightly at that, raising his eyebrows, his grasp on her chin tightening slightly so she didn't move.

"Well that's a revelation I didn't think id be hearing today" he says smiling to himself, especially when she blushes.

"You've been my best friend how long? 7 years now?" He asks.

"8" she confirms and he nods.

"And it's taken you that long to admit your feelings for me?" He asks, chuckling.

"Hey! I didn't admit my feelings, just said I'm happy you're not dating" she says, being defensive as ever.

"Oh don't do that. Don't go back on your word" he says, gently tugging her forward more, grazing his lips against hers.

"Don't make this embarrassing for me" she says, eyes fluttering shut, trying to avoid his eye contact, not able to deal with his teasing.

"Love... Open your eyes... Come on look at me" he says and she eventually does as he says, meeting his soft eyes which sparkle with happiness.

"You've been my best friend for 8 years... And I've been wanting to kiss you since day one. Can I love?" He asks and she nods her head, closing her eyes again when he leans forward, closing the gap between them, his soft lips pressing lightly against hers.

She sighs at the first contact, feeling her hairs stand on end and her stomachs doing backflips. His lips press firmer against hers, hands moving down to her waist to pull her tighter against him. He begins moving his mouth against hers, taking her upper lip in-between his, running his tongue along the plumpness of it.

She pulls away, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

"I've been wanting to do that for years... Never wanted you to be just my best friend" he admits.

"I really did miss you" she says and he smiles.

"I missed you more... That was the real reason I came... Couldn't stand being away from you another day... The kiss was just a welcomed surprise..." He says, his words make her smile widely.

"I really do like you Matty... More than a friend too" she says, feeling like a school girl.

"Well I'd hope so... I just kissed you" he says, teasing her again, making her blush.

"I love seeing you blush" he says, thumb caressing her cheeks, feeling the warmth under his pad.

"Kiss me again then" she says and he does, pressing his lips firmly in hers. This one is faster, somehow more passionate than the last, years of passion and wanting and love being poured into the next person. He grunts and she gasps as their tongues meet, only pulling away when her doorbell sounds.

"Shit" he says against her mouth "foods here" he says and she pulls away fully.

"food?"

"you said you hadn't eaten properly in three days so I ordered your favourite" she smiles widely at him after his words, pushing another kiss to his lips.

"You're the best"

"What can I say? It is national best friend day" he says making her groan.

"Stop saying that" they both laugh together, eventually having to get up when the door bell rings again. They sit in her kitchen and devour the food he brought, catching up on everything the other missed, holding each other's hands and eating with the other.

"So..." He says as they finish eating "what now?" He asks.

"Well... I think it's safe to say I can't call you my best friend anymore" she admits.

"Yeah? Let me take you on a date then... A proper one" he says and she smiles.

"Id love that" she says and he leans forward to kiss her again.

"Not going to stop doing this though" he murmurs into her mouth, tugging her towards him when their tongues meet, until her legs are hooked over his and she's perched in his lap.

"Reckon we could do this thing a bit backwards?" She asks against his lips, not allowing them to stop the kiss.

"How so?"

"Reckon you can take me to my bedroom and THEN we can go on a date" she says and she's glad he catches on quick to what she's insuating.

"Absolutely" he says, picking her up with his mouth stick attached to hers and carrying her to her room, placing her down on the covers.

"this is the best friends day ever" he says making them both laugh.

"Shut up and show me what I've been missing out on" she says.

#the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #matty healy fan fic #matthew timothy healy #matthew healy #matty healy fanfic

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