#the only one i actually like is the first one but the second one is a more human skintone and the third is based purely on the colour
Text
I am thinking about the batkids and their rooms at the manor.
When Dick was first brought to the manor, Alfred put wooden letters that spelled out his name on the outside of the door to his room. He wanted the boy to feel like he belonged, and denoting the room as his seemed like the best way. At first, they spelled out "Richard", and were painted in red, green, and yellow -- the colors that his parents had worn for their circus act, that didn't have any other meaning yet. Dick pried them off the door and threw them away. He didn't want to accept that this was permanent yet. There were new letters on the door a few days later, blue this time, and spelling out "Dick" instead. Those letters got pried off much the same and shoved in a drawer, and they didn't get put back until a year later. He was too short to put them in the same place, so they ended up crooked, and Alfred found it too endearing to fix.
When he left the manor years later, he considered ripping the letters off the door and throwing them in the foyer on his way out. But he left them, and there they remained, crooked as ever.
Jason got his own letters when it became clear he wasn't going anywhere. He helped Alfred put them up on his bedroom door, standing on a step stool to make sure they got in the right place. His were evenly spaced and neatly aligned, and he refused to tell anyone that he cried over them that night. He'd spent months wondering if he'd ever live up to his predecessor, not just as Robin, but in the family as well. And now he had his own letters, just like Dick's, and they weren't going anywhere.
And they didn't. Even after he died. Bruce and Alfred both considered taking the name down to make walking past that empty room less painful, but in the end, they didn't dare touch the letters, just like they didn't touch anything else in the room. Years later, Jason would sneak into the manor through his old bedroom window and find his school uniforms still hanging in the closet, his textbooks on his desk, an open novel on his nightstand, and, of course, the letters still on the door, more of an epitaph than the one on his actual tombstone.
Tim fought for his name on a bedroom door. It took a while, but he trained, and he learned, and he forced himself into the role that he knew he could fill. Part of him thought that no matter how good and useful he made himself as Robin, he'd never really fill the role that the two before him did. He thought there might not be room for him after Jason's death, but he did it. He was older than the other two when Alfred finally put the letters up on his door, but he did it.
Later, when he left in search of Bruce, he didn't think for a second of taking his name down off his door. He'd earned it.
Damian's name got put up practically as soon as he got to the manor. He didn't think much of having his name on a door. If anything, it irked him a bit, being lumped in with the others, but it would have annoyed him more if he didn't get his own name. For a while, his name on the door, marking it as his from the hallway, was the only reason you could tell it wasn't the guest room that it had previously been. He had no photographs, had arrived with no personal affects.
That changed, eventually. As he gained friends, he also gained photos of them. He put up sketches and watercolor paintings of his animals. A dog bed got put on the floor for Titus. But the letters had been there from the beginning, and he grew to appreciate them eventually. His room, with the name on the door, was safe, and he liked it there.
Cass's letters showed up without much fanfare. They were simply there when she exited her room one day. "Cassandra" in black wooden letters that matched all of her new siblings'. She ran her fingers over them with reverence. She'd never been allowed to leave a mark before. Her life was predicated on being a shadow, but there was her name, in big letters, somewhere where other people could see it.
Steph had a room. She didn't want to admit it, but when she crashed at the manor, it was always in the same room. Her name was put up, and she took it down, and it was put up again, and she took it down again until it became something of a game between her and Alfred. If Steph was staying at the manor and Alfred didn't find a wooden S in a random cupboard, then have to search the house for the rest of her name, then he knew she was in a bad mood, and he usually made her favorite cookies and left them outside of the door with her name still firmly in place.
Duke's letters were waiting for him when he moved in. His name in bright yellow letters that matched his suit already in place. Of course it was, it's tradition at this point, and he's part of the family now. He had bounced around for a while now, and the letters on his door made him feel...calmer. It was a sense of permanence, and one he could learn to enjoy.
Barbara didn't need a room. She had her own room, in her own house, but Alfred still offered to mark out a space for her. She declined. When she did stay over, it was either in the cave or Dick's room, she didn't need her own. Still, that didn't mean her mark wasn't left somewhere. There was a study downstairs with a desk that she sometimes did her homework on as a child if she was staying over for the night. Now, the desk held a computer that was wired into the Batcomputer's network, a photo of her and her father, and, of course, tiny wooden letters affixed to the side that spelled out 'Barbara'.
#batfamily#batfamily headcanons#batman#nightwing#dick grayson#red hood#jason todd#red robin#tim drake#robin dc#damian wayne#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#duke thomas#barbra gordon#batgirl#drabble#batfam#alfred pennyworth#dc comics#comics#superheroes#how many rooms does the manor have? no one knows#i'd assume a lot though#like so many#i hope i did okay with Cass and Duke#i don't know a ton about them
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 3:58
No amount of hectic schedules, exhausting patrols, rowdy villains, and never-ending legal paperwork could ever keep Bakugou from attending his daughters’ extracurricular activities—because he’d literally go through literal hell and back than to ever see a disheartened pout along with the silent treatment after he gets home from work.
You think he’ll ever miss any of his daughters’ milestones? Fuck no!
Bakugou insists on being at every event, his phone—and even an actual camera during a good day—in hand, his heart swelling with pride and unconditional love that makes his chest figuratively hurt; it might as well be a medical problem at some point.
Because, if anything, Bakugou Katsuki is a father first and a hero second.
“Shit, ‘m late. Have they started yet?”
He’s sweating as if he just used his explosions to propel himself in the air to get to you quicker, but, in truth, he sort of had to just run since the traffic on the highway today would’ve only angered and slowed him down. He left patrol to Halfie, who offered to take his shift, knowing how many times Bakugou covered for him when he was in his son’s piano recital.
“They just started doing warmups,” you answer. “Did you run? You’re drenched to the bone; you’re going to catch a cold if you don’t get changed into some dry clothes.”
“Hah, doubt it.” He snorts, though he does appreciate the thought of you bringing him a spare shirt for just-in-case purposes.
You're always the one who thinks ahead, aren't you? Bakugou knows he’s a very lucky man to have such a doting, caring wife that humbles him whenever he gets too focused on his pride. The balance that he didn’t know he needed!
Ignoring the gawking stares of the other parents—because it’s not everyday you see the Pro Hero Dynamight in mundane activities such as watching his kid take gymnastics’ lessons—he looks through the glass in search of his little princess.
Just as he saw her, his lips curled to that oh-so genuine smile, one that just said, “That’s my daughter, right there! Look at how awesome she is!”
Bakugou remembers how his parents were the same and how they were very supportive of his interests and hobbies, no matter how odd they may be for a five-year-old. How often do you see someone learning to take on both hiking and archery at the age of five? Bakugou was sure he learned most skills during his childhood that made him a firm hero in the field today.
“She has a bit of trouble with tumbling because of her tummy.”
“Yeah? And does that have somethin’ to do with my awesome cooking?” Bakugou replied smugly. “Besides, ‘ts just baby fat, and I’d prefer to see her like this than to see her thin but often sick.”
“Mhm, and she makes up for the cutest ending pose.”
“And her effortless splits. Have the coaches seen her do that?”
You shook your head. “Not yet,” you say, “but I think they’re about to do it—oh! Look, look!”
And he does; his phone’s camera is already recording his youngest daughter doing a perfect vertical split, while the other girls somewhat struggle to maintain a consistent posture.
“She’s a natural, hun.”
“She is,” you chuckle, “just like her Daddy to a certain extent.”
“Damn right, she is.”
Bakugou tries to hold back his laughter when your daughter once again attempts a forward roll with the guidance of the staff. Her tummy somewhat makes it a bit difficult for her to do so. The way she hesitates but then does the forward roll, albeit a little lopsided with a smile that shows her adorable tooth gap—it was safe to say that your daughter was over the moon with her gymnastics lessons.
It’s all too much for him to take.
And when all is over, he greets his daughter by picking her up and blowing raspberries on her neck that have her squealing in laughter before he insists that he’ll be the one to talk to the coaches about the upcoming schedules and the progress your daughter has made.
“Mr. Bakugou, she’s a good listener, and I believe that she’ll be moving onto the next class with the older children in no time,” they told him. “Has she received prior training before this one?”
“She’s also taking ballet lessons,” he answers, “but gymnastics is what she really likes. Ballet was just a compromise since your services weren’t available in our area at that time.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. It’s a joy to have her in class. I’ve already sent Dr. [Last Name] the schedules we offered, and we are looking forward to having your daughter in the upcoming lessons.”
The walk back to your car was light and quiet for a change. Your youngest daughter, Kusami, was out like a light in Bakugou’s arms, having worn herself out with socializing, rolling, doing splits, and whatnot the gymnastics’ instructors told her to do. And Bakugou was just letting the simple moment sink in because this is what he considers the most rewarding part of his day.
Time spent with his family.
Bakugou also warmed up to the thought of having to interact with other parents. He chatted with a single father earlier, whose daughter was the oldest in Kusami’s class. It was nice to converse with equally enthusiastic and supportive parents that you meet through your children's extracurricular activities.
“Let’s go through a drive-through; get Katsumi her usual order,” Bakugou murmurs, remembering how his oldest daughter, Katsumi, would’ve probably woken up from her nap by now and was probably anticipating her family’s return.
“Alright,” you nod. “Katsumi and Kusami have swimming lessons tomorrow at five in the afternoon, too. Do you think you’d get home that early?”
“Of course,” he answers. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.
#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou x y/n#bakugou fluff#bakugou drabble#bakugo x reader#bakugo fluff#bakugo drabble#mha x reader#mha fluff#mha drabbles#bnha x reader#bnha drabble#bnha fluff#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou#mha bakugou
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Exception (Max Verstappen x y/n)
Summary- 4 times Max let y/n get away with whatever she wanted and 1 time he didn't.
I just have so much love for maxie and I wanna show it so it came out as this. Hope you like it!! I hope maxie is only loved tbh
Max was very young when he had moved to a Netherland. If someone asked him when it was, he'd probably never be able to tell. But he could tell you about the annoying neighbours he had growing up. Yes, he did spend most of his time karting and didn't have the time at home or in school like normal kids his age would but the fleeting moments spent at that house in Netherland left behind fond memories that he can look back and only because of a certain little girl with chubby cheeks and two identical braids on either side of her head who had made quite a place in his life. Jos wasn't very happy with Max wasting his time entertaining those kids but he couldn't do much when the children's father was a tall bulky man who could take Jos out in one punch, insisted on letting the kids play together. The tall man had 3 kids Max noticed when he had dinner at their place for the first time; the oldest being the girl who we mentioned before followed by 2 younger brothers who seemed to love karting. They asked Max so many questions about it that they got scolded by their mother for ruining dinner for everyone but Max thought was cute because the youngest couldn't even pronounce karting but had a lot to say. Every time he would spend time with his neighbours, it would always be with the 2 young boys who wanted to learn how to kart better and become like Max like the younger one put it. Even now it makes Max laugh reminiscing about those days. They never really made it professionally though.
2008
Max and the 2 boys were playing around when their older sister asked if they would like to join her for a session of afternoon tea with Mr Whale and Miss Teapot. The brothers made a face of disgust and ran away from her, dejected she turned around when Max agreed. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She quickly dragged him into her room and had him sit next to Mr Longneck, the giraffe. An hour later Max was found in Y/N's room with two pigtails if you could call them that on the top of his head, a tiara and the prettiest necklace Y/N owned. Looking at himself in the mirror he couldn't help but laugh. Y/N on the contrary looked pleased with her handy work. She thanked him for being a good and compliant customer and to come back again if he ever wanted to look pretty. It wasn't easy to get Max to do what you wanted except he couldn't say no to her puppy eyes. She even gave him a drawing of him in his kart saying that it would bring him good luck since she couldn't be there and placed her favourite bracelet on his hand.
If Y/N was to ask him about the bracelet, Max would say he lost it as soon as she gave it to him, but deep down in the watch drawer of Max's Monaco apartment sat a brightly neon pink bracelet with Y/N’s initials.
2014
Y/N had started highschool and remained the annoying self Max had come to love. Her over the top demeanor and affection to screaming at the top of her lungs whenever she spotted Max never failed to make him smile. Having joined Formula one this year, meant Max was way to busy to be home but Y/N seemed to never forget to text him regularly. She would ask him to get autographs of other drivers or souvenirs from different countries. It was a regular race weekend when Y/N texted Max asking him to explain how the engine in a go kart worked. In a split second Max was on call with her asking "why she needed that?" to which she replied "I'm doing a project on that. I even made a small scale replica of your cart Look here!!!" She exclaimed. "I just need to shrink you and place you inside it" Y/N laughed. Max told her not to worry and that he would text her the details in a hour or so. Actually it took a couple hours and Y/N was starting to get agitated and called him back. Max replied with a almost done and smiled at her. He had literally written her entire report for her and sent it to review. Y/N almost screamed when she saw the assignment. She thanked Maxie for doing this for her and that she owed him her life. Max was just happy to be of help, he told himself more than he told her because who stays up till 5 in the morning on a race weekend doing someone else’s project.
He kept the small scale replica of his Kart on the mantle above the fireplace if anyone wanted to know what happened to the kart.
2018
Y/N was freshly 18, so getting drunk was the only thing on her agenda. On a night out, she was so drunk that no one could get her to move because she wanted her Maxie and would only leave with Maxie, she enunciated. Her friend was able to open up Y/N phone and thankfully find a Maxie in her favourite contacts. She called the number to be met with a groggy but worried voice. "Hi! This is Y/N's friend Kate speaking. Am I speaking with a....maxie?" she said tentatively. Max let out a sign while rubbing his eyes, "Yes, this is Max speaking." "Can you come pick Y/N up?" She asked hesitantly followed by, "She won't leave with anyone but you apparently." Max was already out of bed and near the door when he said "I'll be there in 10, where are you guys at?" She sent him the location and waited for 'maxie'. Nothing could've prepared them for this. They had thought Maxie was a friend, a boyfriend maybe even a neighbour; they did not think Maxie was Max Verstappen, F1 driver for Redbull racing. He apologised for the inconvenience and crouched down to Y/N level who seemed to have realised that he was here. She cupped his cheeks and giggled while turning his head to the crowd of people standing, "Look, this is my Maxie." Hearing Y/N say my maxie made his heart beat faster then it should've, he admits but that girl had a tight hold on his heart and he couldn't really do much about it. She stood up and wrapped her arms around Max asking him to carry her since her legs felt like mush. Max gladly carried her back to his car, as he fastened her seat belt she asked him to take her back to his place since her parents would probably disown her if she come in drunk for the 6th time this week. Max looked shocked and asked her to stop drinking so much since it wasn't good for her. All Y/N could mumble was that the alcohol made the pain in her heart bearable. This broke Max's heart. Who would dare hurt his precious little angle, if he met that guy he was so dead, Max thought. Little did he know that guy was the one driving her back home.
Y/N was a nuisance when drunk, she reminded him of the little girl he had befriended when he moved here. She wouldn't listen to anything he asked her to do that night until he agreed to let her do make up on him which he would gladly agree to, real or not.
2022
Y/N had recently graduated and was looking for a place to stay. It was one of those nights after a fruitless apartment hunt Y/N facetimed Max. He looked very comfortable in his sim racing chair in his luxurious apartment in Monaco having moved recently. "Maxie" the younger girl sighed. "Meisje, what's the problem?" came a concerned voice. "I can't seem to find a decent apartment, I've been at it for months now." she said. Max offered to help her find the right place and Y/N started listing out all the things she wanted in her apartment which was sounding a lot like Max current apartment which was true, that was Y/N's dream apartment currently; after seeing it a couple months ago when she had visited him as a housewarming surprise and even held a party for him. "You can move to Monaco, the house you're looking for is here" Max said. After a long pause Y/N replied with a chuckle, "I don't make formula 1 money. I'm too broke to afford a house here. In Monaco, I'd have to sell my organs to afford a place there." As if it was the most obvious thing, Max offered her to stay at his place and look for a job here.
The allure of Monaco was too much and Y/N was able to thankfully find a job there so that she wouldn't be completely dependent on Max which he wouldn't have minded. Max never let her pay rent, he'd always tell her to cook good food and that was rent sorted.
2023
It was the night of the Abu Dhabi grand prix. Max had just won his third WDC so him and his friends decided to go out to celebrate, Y/N included. The night carried on as usual, Max not touching much of the alcohol since Y/N decided to down drinks like a thirsty person. She was now in the middle of the dance floor making herself familiar with Lando's crotch, much to Max's dismay. He made his way to her and led her away from Lando while she shouted at him to let her go. They were now stood in the quieter part of the club but you could still hear the music blasting. Y/N looked visibly annoyed at being taken away from the dance floor. "You are drunk, you'll regret it tomorrow." Max said. "That's for sober me to deal with. Drunk me just wants to forget about everything and having an eventful night with a guy would do just the trick." she said. Max winced at the words and held her arms so that she could steady herself. "I don't wanna feel like this," was this the alcohol giving her the confidence, "the guy I've been in love with for ages can't seem to see me as a woman. I've been trying for years now. If I walked out naked, I'm sure he wouldn't even be phased." she sounded dejected. "Any guy would want you, Meisje." Max whispered. "But not the one I do" she stepped closer, enough that their breaths mingled. The woman in front of him was driving Max mad, had she not been drunk he would've shown her how much any man would want her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes before saying, "He's so dumb, can't even see the woman in front of him." The statement felt oddly targeted. "You know, he's a 3 time world drivers champion and he doesn't even get that I love him so much." she said while looking into his eyes. "You're in love with me?" Max exclaimed. "I have been since the day you let me make pigtails on your hair but thanks for realising now." she replied sarcastically. "You're drunk, you don't know what your saying" Max replied. "Well, sober me would never tell you this but I love you Max Verstappen. So much that you make my heart beat faster and my chest swell when you look at me. I think about marrying you and having a family with you, but you think I'm joking." she declared. Max couldn't help but smiled, "Tell me all of this in the morning when you're sober so that I can tell you that I love you too schat and then I can finally kiss you." "You can kiss me now" Y/N made a kissy face and eagerly leaned in. Max shook his head and carried her back to the hotel room.
Y/N indeed remembered everything and the first thing she did even though she wreaked of alcohol was finally kiss those soft pink lips.
this is just brain rot at this point. hope you liked it
#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen fluff#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#lando norris
810 notes
·
View notes
Note
aaaa hi there! i absolutely love your writing and i just saw that your requests are open!
do you mind writing love confessions (when they admit their feelings to reader) with some of the hq boys? sakusa, osamu, and whoever else you'd like to write for! 🤍
LOVE CONFESSIONS - HQ BOYS
ft. osamu miya, kiyoomi sakusa, koushi sugawara, tobio kageyama, hajime iwaizumi
thank you so much for your request! i hope i did it some kind of justice<3
OSAMU: it has ended up being just you and him outside the gym after practice. atsumu has to run a quick “errand”, and he swore he was going to be back in a quick second. but it had been nearly.. 30 minutes now?
osamu pulled the bento he had made the night before out of his bag.
“y’know, i don’t think he’s coming back..” you said, frowning.
samu had set the bento down between the both of you, pulling out a set of chopsticks. “yeah, i don’t think so either.. what an idiot,” he paused, looking at the chopsticks in his hand. “sorry, i only have one set..”
you looked down between the two of you to find his perfectly prepared bento.
“oh! thank you, ‘samu!” you smiled. “and it’s alright. i don’t mind sharing!”
you both ate in silence for awhile. you quietly laughed to yourself when the memory of what atsumu had said to you a few weeks prior had popped into your head.
“y’know, atsumu told me this funny thing awhile ago..”
samu hummed in response.
“he said you liked me. crazy, right?”
osamu nearly choked on the rice in his mouth.
goddamnit atsumu. that fatass mouth of his.
osamu finally composed himself, turning to take a glimpse of the expression on your face. but, there wasn’t much to read. you softly smiled, looking off into the sunset behind the trees.
god, you were so pretty.
“y/n?”
“osamu?”
he took a breath in. “what if.. i did?” and out.
you smiled, “then i’d say you should make up your mind already because i’ve been waiting awhile, ‘samu.”
he chuckled. “got out with me then?”
“alright.”
maybe atsumu had actually done him a service after all.
atsumu jumped out from behind the building. “fuckin’ told ya they liked ya, ‘samu! dumbass.”
or maybe he spoke too soon.
KIYOOMI: he was reserved. he was hard to get to know from an outside perspective. but to you, that only drew you further and further into the mystery kiyoomi himself.
he wasn’t the most.. intact with his emotions. he didn’t understand them, really. he didn’t know why he felt a pang in his chest when you’d smile at him. he didn’t understand why his hands would go sweaty when you’d stand so close to him—or even why he was so okay with you standing so close to him. but he was. he was and he didn’t understand it. and the only reason he ever did was because he turned to outside advice.
he called atsumu over after the msby jackal’s practice one day. he grudgingly explained every last detail to him.
atsumu chuckled in response. “omi, you like ‘em! you couldn’t realize that on yer own?”
he.. liked you?
“now, now, omi, like me show ya how it’s done!” atsumu beamed, grabbing his phone out of his pocket and began typing.
he heard the ping of the message he just received.
what in the hell was he doing..
atsumu wrapped an arm around sakusa. “there ya go! now y/n knows you like ‘em. just had to convince them i wasn’t messin’ with them first. rest is up to you, omi-omi!”
kiyoomi winced at the feeling of atsumu arms around him, sliding out from his grip and trudging off into the locker room.
“idiot.”
he really did like you.
KOUSHI: he absolutely adored everything about you. and as soon as he’s built up the courage, you bet he’s confessing to you. on one hand, you accept his confession and then he has the love of his life. on the other hand, you turn him down and, hey, at least the waiting game is over.
well, today he has finally built up that courage.
he was hanging out in the halls with daichi and asahi between classes. students rushed this way and that. but he was only looking for one person in particular.
you came rushing down the stairs well.
there. now or never.
he watched as you walked passed him.
“y/n!” he shouted, slightly jogging to catch up with you.
“koushi! hi!” you smiled.
god, he loved the way you said his name.
“what are you up to?”
you both kept making your way downstairs, together.
“not much! i just gotta run over the store for my mom’s last minute dinner plans. you? anything exciting?”
he stopped walking, causing you to stop too and give him a questioning look.
now or never.
“actually.. i was wondering. no. uhm, actually,” he took a deep breath. “i like you, y/n. a lot.”
you softly gasped, a look of surprise painted on your face.
“if you don’t feel the same, i understand,” he went on, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “please don’t feel pressured or anything.”
the halls had been cleared by now—leaving just you two. alone. together.
you laughed. “oh, koushi. you’re so silly. of course i feel the same! who wouldn’t?”
who wouldn’t?
he breathed a sigh of relief. “okay well that’s good because i was starting to get a little nervous there!”
you started walking again, him trailing behind.
“hey, what if walked you home after practice?” you smiled. “i’ll run to the shore in between and i’m sure you guys will be done by then!”
“yeah, yeah i’d really like that actually..”
TOBIO: took him literally forever to confess. really, forever. it was a process for him. he noticed you, realized he liked you, actually admitted to himself that he liked you, and then, once he was past that point, he began to wonder if you even liked him too. he’s a deep thinker; sometimes. most of the time—okay, maybe only when it came to volleyball. but he didn’t take things with you lightly.
it was late one night after practice. hinata had begged you to stay behind with him and kageyama to keep working on their quick attack after everyone else had headed home for the night.
“normally yachi would, but she has something going on with her mom. i think,” hinata began. “but, please stay with us! tobio, c’mon, help me convince y/n—”
it had caught tobio off guard. “o-oh. yeah. please, y/n. if you could throw us a few sets that would be great. thank you.”
you laughed. “okay, i’m convinced! but only a few. both of you need to get home at some point, y’know?”
“right!” they both agreed.
you threw them a few sets and watched their process—the way it seemed as though hinata truly flew threw the air to reach kageyama’s sets. but, more so, you were focused on the intensity in kageyama’s eyes.
you repeated the process over and over again. “one more!” they would say, and of course you agreed. the whole attack was.. mesmerizing to watch.
“one more!” hinata begged. “just one more! please!”
“hinata, it’s late. last one, i mean it,” you agreed. “we still have to walk home y’know!”
hinata and kageyama both gave a quick nod.
both of them were intensely focused—this would be the one they nailed. but either way, this was your last. anymore and you thought your arms might fall off.
you watched as the ball bounced off the other side of the court, bouncing off the floor all the way to the back wall. they really were something else.
“okay you two clean up the rest of our stuff and i’ll put the cart away!”
you soon found all three of yourselves out in the cool evening air. hinata walked alongside his bike while you and kageyama trailed behind. hinata rambled on about the quick attack—something about a bunch of “whooshes” and “pows”, whatever that meant. you didn’t pay much attention to him, focused on kageyama and the sleepiness you could see in his face.
“alright, i’ll see you guys tomorrow at practice!” hinata smiled, turning down the road opposite of you. he trailed off, saying something about how him and kageyema would get it tomorrow.
just you and kageyama then.
you stayed silent for awhile, not sure of what to say. you’d looks in kageyama’s direction every once-in-awhile. he looked.. peaceful, in some strange way.
“the quick attack is coming along nicely. don’t you think so?” you mused.
he paused for a moment. “yeah, i guess so. it’s just.. i wish i could do better. just as a setter in general, i mean.”
you hummed in response. “you don’t give yourself enough credit y’know.”
he almost stopped dead in his tracks. he was so sure about what he felt for you—he had a hard time admitting it, but it didn’t go away. it was still there, even after the months that had passed.
“y/n?”
“yeah?” you smiled.
“i.. i like you.”
without missing a beat you replied. “i like you too!”
and then it hit you. did he mean..?
you could immediately see the blush that overtook his face, even when he turned to look at the ground beneath him.
“you—you do?” he questioned.
“wait. do you mean..” you paused. “like, you like-like me?”
“yeah.. sorry that wasn’t clear before,” he let out a soft sigh.
you felt heat rise to your cheeks. embarrassment and giddiness. “kageyama, you.. you really don’t know?”
your response caused him to take his gaze off the ground and look back up at you.
“what do you mean?”
you laughed. uncontrollably laughed. “i’m—i’m sorry! I don’t mean to laugh, i promise. i just.. you didn’t know already?”
he was absolutely puzzled. “know.. what?”
“tobio kageyama you can’t be serious! everyone knows. well, except you, i guess,” you giggled. “i like you, kageyama. i mean, i have for months. i just figured you knew and didn’t feel the same.”
“oh.”
you finally stopped walking altogether, now right outside your front gate. tobio stood right in formt of you, close enough do that the tips of your shoes nearly touched.
you took his hands in yours. “but, i’m glad you like me too. really glad.”
you smiled up at him, noticing the light dust of blush still left on his cheeks. you stood on your tiptoes and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.
“goodnight, tobio. i’ll see you at practice tomorrow!” you winked, happily making your way towards your front door.
he walked home with his hand glued to his cheek in the spot you kissed him.
HAJIME: to him, it wasn’t the least bit apparent that you liked him. he just assumed you liked oikawa. you were always there, hanging around the two of them. surely it was only for oikawa, right?
you, iwaizumi, and oikawa has caught the train home together after school. iwaizumi immediately sat down and put his earbuds in to drown out the scene he thought was about to unfold between you and oikawa. even though he couldn’t hear, he still could make out the facial expressions.
you were smiling. okay, of to a good start. of course oikawa was smiling too. you said something. oikawa was still smiling. and now you.. weren’t? not good. oikawa must’ve rejected you. wait now you were both looking at him? and now you were.. laughing? okay, not what he expected.
the train suddenly came to a stop as the doors slid open and people began filing out. hajime watched as you stood up. you gave your goodbye to oikawa, turning to face hajime. you smiled and waved goodbye to him as you made your way out the door.
were you always that sweet?
the doors closed and the train began moving along the tracks again. oikawa moved across and plopped down next to iwaizumi, who paid no attention to him.
suddenly the music stopped.
“you little shit.. what gives, oikawa?”
“woah, woah, iwa-chan! calm down.” oikawa smirked. “jealous much?”
“oh shut up. i’ve got nothing to be jealous of.”
oikawa laughed. “yeah, you really don’t. you don’t even know.”
oikawa turned away to face the opposite way of hajime.
wait.. he didn’t?
“hey, no, what do you mean, oikawa? what did you do?”
“hey, hey! i didn’t do anything. i just told y/n what you should’ve told them a long time ago.”
iwaizumi was fuming at this point. “you told them i liked them as soon as they confused to you? that makes perfect sense, oikawa. nice.”
“woah—woah! confessed to me? wow, iwa, you really are dense!”
iwa gave him a puzzled expression.
what did he mean?
“they were going to confess to you, iwa. but you sat down in your corner to pout instead. they’ve been trying to tell you for the past week now!”
“they.. they were?”
oikawa sighed, picking up iwaizumi’s phone. he was in too much shock to do anything about it. you liked him. you liked.. him? you liked him!
“there ya go, iwa! now you’ve got their number. i’d suggest texting them sooner rather than later.”
oikawa moved to talk to the group of schoolgirls across the train, leaving iwaizumi to think about all that had just unfolded.
hajime stared down at the new contact in his phone. one deep breath and he started typing. another deep breath and he actually wrote out the words. one last deep breath and.. sent.
he quickly shoved his phone in his back pocket.
“i like you too.”
© fum1ku 2024.
⁂ taglist: @chloiyoomi @eashn + let me know if you want to be added! 💌
#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#haikyu x reader#haikyuu#haikyuu anime#osamu miya x you#osamu miya x y/n#osamu miya x reader#miya osamu x reader#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#msby sakusa#kiyoomi x reader#sakusa kiyoomi#sugawara koushi#sugawara x y/n#sugawara x reader#haikyuu sugawara#tobio kageyama x reader#kageyama tobio#kegayama tobio#kageyama x reader#iwaizumi hajime#iwaizumi x reader#hajime iwaizumi#iwaizumi x you#iwaizumi x y/n#haikyuu fluff#miya osamu#sakusa x reader#haikyuu kiyoomi
472 notes
·
View notes
Text
my strong girl | lewis hamilton x fem! chronically ill! reader
summary; after an incident during a race, y/n is sent to the hospital and is upset about missing his race after not attending races for months. fortunately for her, lewis is always understanding
fc; various girls on pinterest
word count; 1k
warnings; hospitals, needles, fainting
taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03 @c-losur3 @fall-bambi
note; requested ! lewis was so close to a podium i actually was so upset🙁🙁🙁 anyways, i tried to combine a few of the ideas into this without it being superrrr hectic
masterlist !
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
“Are you sure you want to come? You don’t need to feel pressured to do so.” Lewis asked in the soft tone that always brought Y/n comfort.
She sighed as he helped her put on her blue Ralph Lauren cardigan. “I’m sure, Lew. I don’t want to miss your home race.” She huffed, watching him grab her white golden gooses.
“Just be careful today. I hate that I can’t be around you the whole time.” Lewis quietly said. He helps her out on her shoes, securely tying the white laces.
“I know, I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Y/n really tried her best to be careful. She only walked a few minutes to grab stuff around Lewis’ driver's room. If she went longer distances, she used her wheelchair and one of the girlfriends of the drivers would happily walk by her side to accompany her.
While Lewis was doing media duties before the race, she hung out with Carmen and Lily. The two girls had lunch but Y/n wasn’t hungry so she decided to not eat. A big mistake for her.
She could only chat with Lewis for a few minutes before he had to get into his car. A couple of good luck kisses later, and his car was being driven out of the garage for the warm-up lap.
Silverstone was always special. It was Lewis’s home race and most importantly, his last home race with Mercedes. He was starting in pole after a fantastic qualifying session. The rainy weather allowed him to push the car to its limits.
Y/n started to feel a bit strange, like something was up but she ignored it for anxiety as the race began. Lewis had a fantastic start to the race and maintained being in first.
Around halfway through the race, Y/n felt well enough to get up from her wheelchair in the usual spot in the back of the garage. Although she usually refrained from walking due to getting tired so easily as a result of her illness, she decided that she felt well enough to at least a couple of steps in.
It was the final five laps and Lewis was still in first with a large gap between him and Charles, his future teammate, who was in second. However, instead of feeling joy about the British driver leading the race and being close to his 104th win, she started to feel like something was off.
Y/n needed to sit back down but her wheelchair was in the farthest corner of the Mercedes garage. Carmen had called out her name in concern but it sounded muffled as she struggled to stand upright. Before she knew it, everything went dark.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
The sound of beeping and the feeling of a familiar pair of fingers rubbing over her hand was what Y/n first noticed as she gained consciousness. The bedsheets crinkled as she slowly moved around, hearing a soft shush as she whined.
“Easy there, my love.”
Her eyes fluttered open and she’s met with Lewis’s deep brown eyes. She immediately noticed he was in a pair of sweats with a trophy sitting by his side.
“Did I miss it?” She asked with a raspy voice. She knew the answer of course. A wave of guilt washed over her. Lewis immediately noticed her furrowed-up eyebrows as she glanced at the iv sticking out of her hand.
“I care more about whether or not you’re okay, my love.” He sighed, gently cupping her cheek to make her look at him. “This win was for you, my strong girl.”
“Not strong enough to last 5 minutes standing up.” Her angry mumble made him let out a chuckle. He leaned over and softly kissed her cheek.
“Doctors said you had low blood sugar. You hit your head, no concussion but they want to keep you here overnight just in case something happens due to your illness.”
Y/n huffed at the mention of staying overnight at the hospital. Sure, she was used to it due to her illness, but she just wanted to be in the comfort of her home in the arms of Lewis. Her furrowed-up eyebrows made him laugh again.
She hadn’t noticed an overnight back resting next to the first-place trophy on the ground. He reached for it and pulled out a sketchbook, a few tubes of paint, and a couple of paintbrushes. Her previous furrowed-up eyebrows immediately relaxed. She relaxed back into the pillows as he opened up the sketchbook to an empty page.
Painting was once a passion of Y/n. She has grown quite a large platform for her work. She adored being able to translate everything in her mind onto a canvas with the stroke of her paintbrush.
Unfortunately due to her illness causing pain in her hand joints, she had to give up the intricate paintings. On occasions when she found herself stuck in the hospital, Lewis would always bring her sketchbook. Although she couldn’t do the once complex strokes and liked, she could do a simplified version.
“Lew,” Her voice was soft and frail. Her hand reached out to grasp his. “You didn’t have to do this. You should be celebrating your win.” She mumbled, slowly reaching over to tuck a braid that had fallen out of his ponytail behind his ear.
“Nonsense,” Lewis looked up at her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I much rather be relaxed and painting here with you than be out with drunk people who only want to be around me for the pictures.”
Y/n sighed as the corner of her lips curled into a smile. He handed her a paintbrush before squeezing a couple of colors on the small plastic palette he had brought. He leaned over, cupping her cheek in pulled her in close. He gently kissed her plump lips and couldn’t help but smile.
“I love you, my strong girl.”
“And I love you, my 104x race winner.”
#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#f1 scenario#formula one scenarios#f1 imagine#formula one imagines#formula one imagine#f1 scenarios#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton scenarios#lewis hamilton imagine
526 notes
·
View notes
Text
“I’m just saying it’s manipulative.”
“Manipulative? Eddie you can’t be serious.”
“I am, now, where’s the dish? It’s got to be around here somewhere.”
“Maybe in this box, clearly labelled ‘kitchen’?” Dustin snarks, “and I don’t see how you can say behaving in a way that’s been dictated by your very biology is...manipulative. That’s not fair, man.”
Eddie digs in the box, bringing out the baking dish he wants, and then heads back into the kitchen, swerving around clutter and open boxes as he goes, “yeah, I get that a lot of Omega act the way they do because of what they are, alright. I get that, I do. But all this...kind of, 'oh my oh my, can’t the big Alpha come and save me...I just need looking after and...and protecting'. And I get that it works, a lot of Alphas eat that shit right up, I’m just not one of them.” Eddie bangs around in the kitchen fixing Wayne’s famous corned beef hash casserole, “it’s just not for me, you know? I don’t want someone who’s just going to do as they’re told and roll over on everything, I want someone who is equal, not someone who wants looking after all the time. I will not be loosing my head over any Omega, no matter how pretty they are.”
“So you...wouldn’t look after your Omega?” Dustin squints at him.
“Firstly, not happening, not ever, I’m sticking to Beta’s and that is final...but, I mean, yeah, of course I’d look after my partner, but I’d do that for anyone. I don’t want this hormone driven need to...to I don’t know. It’s just not for me Henderson, okay? Now help me with the books.”
Dustin whines, “but there’s like, fifty million of them...and I still don’t agree that it’s manipulative. They’re just...playing to their strengths, or whatever.”
“Right, so an Omega bats their eyelashes and every Alpha in sniffing distance is falling over themselves to do whatever the Omega wants, and that’s not manipulative?”
“Welllll…no, especially since it only works because of the Alphas in the first place, if it’s anyone fault, it’s the Alphas, right?”
“Fucking...just shut up Henderson.”
Eddie’s just put their plates on the table when there’s a knock at the door, “I’m not waiting,” Dustin sits down and starts shoveling, and Eddie mutters curses all the way to the door, he’s absolutely starving-
“Hi, I am so sorry,” it’s an Omega. A ridiculously pretty one. A very, very pregnant one. “I’m from next door,” the very very pretty Omega is on tip toes, trying to look over Eddie’s shoulder. He’s clutching a plate to his chest, “I know you’ve just moved in and, again, I am so so sorry about this, but is there any chance I could try what you’re cooking? Please?”
He smells so good. Even better than a regular Omega; Eddie’s sure it’s because he’s pupped, probably some biological bullshit about protecting pups and whatever. But still, he’s...he’s cute, standing there with his plate, sniffing after Eddie’s cooking.
“I could smell it in the hall. It could just be the tiniest bit, but I just would really like to try it, I’m so sorry for interrupting your dinner but-”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says, taking the guys plate, “just hang there a second.” Eddie goes and...well, if he fills the plate of what was going to be tomorrows dinner, no one needs to know. Eddie might have opinions on gender, but he’s not a dick. The guy is very pregnant, plus he was being super polite about it. He even brought his own plate.
It’s another human being, pregnant and hungry; Eddie would do the same to help anyone out. This is absolutely nothing to do with the guy being the prettiest Omega Eddie’s ever seen in real life.
Eddie delivers the plate back, “oh my goodness,” oh okay, that’s adorable. Eddie’s pretty sure he’s never heard anyone say ‘oh my goodness’ in real life, like, ever. “Thank you so so much, is there anything I can do? I can contribute to the ingredients or-” and that’s when Eddie figures that not only is the guy very pretty, he’s actually a reasonable human being too, lots of people wouldn’t have even thought about that sort of thing.
“No, we’re good just, ah, let me know what you think.”
“I will, I will,” the guy is saying as he turns to leave, carefully carrying his laden plate. He’s big enough that he’s kind of waddling, and Eddie watches him long enough to see him go into the next apartment along the hall.
Eddie shuts the door, turning back to find Dustin watching him, both eyebrows raised, a very accusatory look on his face, “oh shut the fuck up.”
“Just let me know what you think,” Dustin mimics back, like a little bitch.
#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie#pre getting together#pre steddie#dustin henderson#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#ao3 author#ficlet#ao3 writer#mpreg
411 notes
·
View notes
Text
ㅤ ꣑୧ㅤㅤ:ㅤCANDLELITㅤㅤ𝒻t.ㅤㅤ성혼
﹙10097﹚ SYNOPSIS . . . the dating scene sucks, especially when the only person you want to be with is your roommate.
꣑୧ GENRE . . . roommate au, 'i hate them but they're hot' kind of energy
꣑୧ WARNINGS . . . profanities, drinking i mean lots of drinking we need alcohol shortage here, sunghoon smokes, mentions of one night stands, one very suggestive make out scene in the fourth section, undertones of cheating but not from sunghoon or reader, implications of sex although it's very light
꣑୧ NOTES . . . hi ( _ _; ) drowning in nervousness as i'm posting this. it's my first long fic after months ... i think the last one was in may or june 23 ... so please be nice >< don't know why but this didn't turn out how i wanted it to and it's definitely not one of my proudest works, but i hope u guys like it nonetheless huhu TT happy reading and please rb and drop feedback, it's highly appreciated ^_^
001. WHERE THERE’S HEAVEN THERE’S HELL
sunghoon is spiralling again.
a part of it is because of the endless assignments from classes, but that’s no news. he knows it’s his fault for procrastinating and waiting till two days before the due date to even think about working on them— unlike jake who somehow attends classes probably four times a week and is seen in the football fields instead, and still manages to be the first one to submit his essays. it’s admirable, annoying at most. when he sat down to do his sports science project three days before it was due, sunghoon realised why his professor gave them two months to finish it.
but realising your mistakes and working on them to be a better version of yourself are two different things.
for one, sunghoon believes those assignments are useless. no one cares about the impact of sports on society, maybe except heeseung and jake but again, in sunghoon’s mind, those two are never important. second, he’s too perfect to be working on himself. sunghoon is the best version of himself. he was born the day his uncle died, and his dad inherited the entire chain of restaurants his family owns across the country. he’s too amazing to be worrying about getting a degree he can buy— he thinks the university should be honoured he’s choosing to study— but that’s simply because his mother doesn’t want him to turn out like his sister.
back to the matter at hand— as he puts the beer can on the table and sits back on the couch, his eyes travel to the door yet again. seventh time in just a minute, he’s keeping a record of how you make him wait.
if there’s one thing he hates is being irresponsible ( coming from the great king of irresponsibility himself. ) you said you’d be back by twelve, and it’s half past one in night and not a soul knows your whereabouts. thirteen texts, seven missed calls, his phone is at forty-one percent and sunghoon is at his limit. if it wasn’t for your mom he wouldn’t give two flying fucks about where you are and how you’ve been.
sunghoon is actually surprisingly obedient and well-mannered, as opposed to the popular belief. he gave you and your mother the whole tour of the apartment the day you moved in. even made some coffee which isn’t much but your mother had loved him. he could see it in the way she looked at him with those sweet eyes, holding his hands as if he was her own son, and asking him to look after you.
‘please take care of my daughter,’ sunghoon thought he was getting married. instead of a wedding bell there were warning sirens going off. to this day he doesn’t know why she asked him that, minutes after she saw a dead cactus in the balcony that he killed by overwatering. he couldn’t even say no to her and just nodded, looking over at you briefly and noticing how you look like you were a bit embarrassed. sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s so serious about ‘taking care’ of you. he thought it would be easy, but you had to be devil’s favourite spawn and sunghoon happens to be your target.
however, he can’t take this anymore. he has a morning class and waiting till two am while drinking beer has done more damage to sunghoon than it should. he gets up from the couch with a sigh, leaving the empty cans unattended for a night as he makes a mental note to clean tomorrow. it isn’t until a click from the door stops him in his tracks.
“i’m back,” your voice is quiet, a yawn following immediately after your words as you look down while taking off your shoes. you’ve been drinking again, sunghoon can tell it from a mile away.
“you’re late,” he speaks over the silence, hands on his torso as he’s giving you those squinted eyes and doubtful looks. if sunghoon didn’t know any better, he would assume you fucked someone at the club with how messy you look at the moment.
“yeah well, we had to take gigi to the hospital,” your lazy voice isn’t much louder than a whisper. you stumble towards your room, a hiccup followed soon after by the same quiet and slurred tone. “she ate something weird,”
he huffs at your words, knowing it would very well be just another excuse. “you could’ve at least texted,”
“my phone died,”
“i’m sure your friends would be happy to lend you their phone,” he pauses when he feels himself getting a bit annoyed. a soft sigh falls off his lips as he looks down at the tiled floor before looking up and speaking in a much calmer voice. “i’m just saying it’s not exactly safe to be out alone on the streets this late at night,”
“i wasn’t alone,” that piques his interest. “jay drove me back,”
and sunghoon felt his whole world stop. “jay?”
“yeah, jay, park jongseong,” your voice is surprisingly sweet when you take his name and it bothers sunghoon for some reason. his face scrunches up when you bite back a smile, hoping it’s the alcohol not because of what he thinks it is. “he’s nicer than i thought,”
sunghoon is not unfamiliar with the name park jongseong.
he hears it every day on and off the campus, more often than he likes. first things first, he’s just as popular as jake, for being american, which brings sunghoon to the question— why in the world would he leave america to study in korea when jay could have attended one of the ivy leagues with his face and money?
and the second and more important question, why in the world is park jongseong dropping you home at two in the night?
sunghoon only watches you in disbelief and astonishment as you stumble to your room, mumbling something incoherently. your words ring in his ear like sirens. ‘he is better than you’ jay is better than sunghoon. he scoffs almost offensively in your direction. that has to be the biggest lie of the twenty-first century.
he follows you to your room, reaching out to grab your arms when you almost trip but you manage to balance yourself. he opens the door and turns on the lights for you. “why were you with him to begin with?”
“oh, you don’t know?” and you turn around with eyes wide open as he shakes his head like a deer in the headlight. “he asked me out,”
sunghoon didn’t get a single ounce of sleep last night.
it’s your fault, clearly. had you been back earlier on the time, nothing would’ve happened. and jay— sunghoon sights at the thought of him, eyes narrowing as he grits on his pen as if he’s going to break it into two.
“dude, are you hungry?” jake pokes sunghoon by his shoulder, dragging the latter out of his trail of thoughts.
“what?” sunghoon shoots a blank look, one that makes his friend sigh in concern. afterall, it’s not everyday he sees sunghoon chewing on a pen. “i’m not,”
“you’ve been out of it since the morning,”
and sunghoon has been out of it since jay’s name fell from your lips.
he’s not your friend, definitely not the first guy you’ve called by his name after sunghoon. but something doesn’t sit right. even after tossing and turning in bed for the whole night, he can’t figure out what bothers him more— the fact you said jay is better than him, or the fact that he asked you out on a date.
it’s the first one, he convinces himself. who you date is none of his business, he can’t be arsed enough to care about your love life or relationship status. ( although, he does care a little because he’s nosy. ) what bothers him more is that jay is, to put it in simple words, a player. all that face and no empathy for emotions is a waste, and to think you don’t know this— or maybe you do and yet still chose to go out with him, is beyond sunghoon’s comprehension.
“what do you think about jay?” he asks abruptly, catching jake’s attention, looking at him a little too intently for an answer.
“he’s a nice guy,” a casual reply before he gets back to his assignment before jake looks back at sunghoon with newly found interest. “he turned in my spanish essay last week, oh and drove me back from the bar a few days ago after you ditched me. why?”
sunghoon simply shakes his head, getting back to his books even though his focus is nowhere near studies. at this point, he doesn’t know if it’s jay distracting him or you. even your words keep playing over and over again in the back of his head. jay and nice in the same sentence doesn’t seem fit. sure, he helps his friends and drops his girl back home, but that’s only three days before there’s a new girl in his arms.
002. RUNNING OUT OF SANITY
sunghoon doesn’t hear the door click open when you come back from your classes, too busy in the balcony while humming a tune that you recognise immediately. you take off your shoes, noticing how he taps his foot along with the melody, and it’s quiet in the apartment, apart from the sound of traffic and wind rustling through the trees around.
“i don’t like people who smoke,” smoking is not on your list of likes, but you find yourself next to sunghoon whenever he’s with a cigarette. just like now, when you return from yet another one of your dates— or meet-ups as you prefer to call it right now— with jay. it wasn’t really planned. you bumped into him after classes and he was on his way back home, so you asked him for a coffee.
he almost jumps at your sudden voice but manages to compose himself, scowing at the distaste in your expression before scoffing, the cigarette still dancing between his lips. “good think, i’m not looking forward to be liked by you,”
he studies the frown on your face, glares as if your eyes are shooting daggers in his direction. it’s amusing to him how easy it is to get on your nerves. he leans against the metal railings, hair falling over his forehead. his eyes stay on your for a few seconds before he holds the cigarette between his index and middle finger, putting it away from his mouth and blowing out the smoke in your directions. he laughs mockingly when you step back, fanning out the smoke with your hands, cursing under your breath.
“are you crazy?!” you exclaim in annoyance, coughing slightly at his poor attempt at entertainment. your frown deepens when he mumbles a quiet apology although not meaning it, from the looks of it, and lifts the cigarette back to his lips.
“you’re back early,” he states casually, tapping the cigarette butt and watching the ash fall down from the balcony before a taunting chortle falls off his lips. “did jay dump your ass or something?”
your nose scrunches up at his actions, although mostly at the tobacco you can still smell in your air. you look down at the road, watching a mercedes passing by. “no, he had to go somewhere so he left early,”
“i knew it! he’s good for nothing,” and he drops the cigarette to the floor, crushing it with his foot even though at the back of his mind, he knows you’re going to yell at him for cleaning that up. “what kind of guy can’t even spend time with his girlfriend?”
“we’re not dating,”
“that’s worse!” he emphasises, and a pause follows as he looks at you with a confused expression. “wait— didn’t you say he asked you out?”
“he did, but he said he wants to wait until exams are over,” there’s a hint of displeasure in your voice. his eyes travel down to your fingers, especially the ring you’re fiddling with before they’re back on your face when you speak again. “we just decided to hang out,”
he practically scoffs at your words, quite literally in disbelief. a knowing sigh comes out of his mouth as he stands straight, this time standing with his back against the railing, feeling the cold metal though his thin white t-shirt. a part of him wants to laugh at your stupidity and point at how naive you are, while another part of him wants to find jay and beat him to pulp. he doesn’t know why there’s anger pooling in his stomach at the mere thought of jay just messing around with you.
“what a sick bastard,” he huffs with a tincture of annoyance in his tone. “how much do you want to bet he’s playing with you?”
“you’re the one who’s sick,” and even though it clicks with him that you’re referring to a few minutes earlier when he smoked all in your face, sunghoon still frowns when you call him sick. “he’s just prioritising his studies, there’s nothing wrong with that. at least he doesn’t smoke while being all up my face,”
you two just bask in silence after that.
he doesn’t have much to say— actually he does, but he doesn’t know how to put it in a decent, coherent way. of course, your reaction won’t be the most pleasant if he told you he wants to punch jay’s good for nothing handsome face. he wonders what you’re thinking when he looks over at you. you seem happy whenever you talk about your supposed ‘future boyfriend,’ yet it’s evident that you’re upset. he likes to think you’re having your doubts too. it's reassuring to him for some reason— because that’s good for you, of course. if you’re upset, you have your doubts, and if you have your doubts you might not fall victim to whatever sick game jay is playing.
“oh, actually, he doesn’t smoke,” but then you speak in a matter-of-fact way, as if comparing him to jay before giving him a mocking smile. “he’s better than you,”
those words ring in his mind for a good while.
you go back inside and he hears you shut the door to your room as an annoyed sigh falls off his lips. hearing that jay is nice from jake was another thing, but hearing to say he’s better than him leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. and he doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way, these little changes in how he usually is, it’s new. it’s frustrating him out.
it isn’t until his phone vibrates that he’s dragged out of his ocean of thoughts. his brows furrow when he notices the time, having realised that he basically wasted the entire noon even though he didn’t attend classes after giving heeseung an excuse that he’s sick. his eyes squint at the sender, and then a groan escaping his lips when he opens to read it.
noh chaeun 4:15pm
hoon! my last two classes have been cancelled
are you up for some coffee?
sunghoon doesn’t reply, rather leaving his classmate’s messages on seen, too bothered by his inner turmoil to spend time with her. it’s not like him to be this way, to be so bothered over something that doesn’t concern him. you’re definitely not someone so significant and jay is definitely not the first guy you’re with. in fact, he has seen you kiss that guy from one of your classes— as much as he hates to recall that incident now— and had sneaked up to tell your mother about it over the phone when she had called you.
you’ve never had a serious relationship, not after meeting him. in his head, you always came back to him and he’d be lying if he hadn’t joked about it with his friends during the initial few weeks after you had moved in. when he had mentioned to jake that you’re pretty and his friend had teased him a few days later, saying his ‘crush’ was with this other guy, sunghoon, did in fact, say he doesn’t care because you always come back to him; or rather his apartment, actually, but whatever fits the joke.
that day, he had a good laugh out of it and the joke died back then itself, more so after he started complaining about you to his friends. your habits, your actions, the things you say that tick him off, your quirky and quick remarks— everything. perhaps, even about your habit of arriving late on weekends from parties and ruining his sleep because you forget the key most of the time, so he has to wake up and open the door for you, but not guys, never guys.
it hurts his head to even try and figure it out, to find the reasoning behind the pang in his chest every time you mention jay. he likes to think it’s just harmless competition although for no reason, even though both of them have done plenty of things to piss each other off just for the fun of it. sunghoon thinks he can live with it and walks back inside to the living room, until he sees you walking out of your room on phone with someone, the name of he who shall be mentioned rolling off your tongue again, and he finally pulls out his phone with a frustrated sigh.
sunghoon 4:21pm
sure, i’ll pick you up in ten
“actually, my mom wants to invite your family over for dinner this weekend,” the girl in front of him speaks with a smile after muttering a quiet thank you to the waiter after he gets their order. “she’s very grateful for the donation your dad made for our art gallery and wants to thank properly,”
“talk to my parents, then,” it’s a simple reply, too bland and forced for her liking.
sunghoon hasn’t spared her a single look in the past ten minutes that they’ve been sitting together at the table. firstly, he doesn’t know why he drove to a restaurant when she asked for a coffee. it’s not even close to dinner time, and the awkward yet sweet smile on her face didn’t make it better for him, so he ordered starters and drinks to drag their little impromptu dinner out.
“sunghoon, to be honest,” chaeun tries to strike up a conversation again, despite the constant lack of effort from his side. “i want you—”
“hey, isn’t that jongseong?” and he cuts her off immediately, finger pointing outside the glass panes beside them as he stares in the direction behind her with brows knit together in shock. “who’s that with her?”
“jongseong?” she repeats the name before turning her head, forming an ‘o’ when she spots a familiar figure through the multitude on the streets. “ah, that’s myung jihye. she has been pursuing him for a while. i guess he finally agreed,”
“they’re dating?!” his voice is full of surprise and disbelief unlike hers, so seemed to be happy for the girl instead. he stares outside with a heavy silence as the couple disappears between the crowd before looking at the girl in front of him.
“oh, i wouldn’t say that…i don’t know but it’s possible they are.” it doesn’t miss her attention how sunghoon’s fingers tighten around the fork. “everybody in our major knows jihye has crush on him and they’re probably a thing by now,”
and he wishes you were here with him right now so that he could show you the true colours of the dear guy you’ve been going out with, the one who’s supposedly ‘better’ than him. he wants you to realise that his words weren’t false and he isn’t sick, after all, and if you’d cry, he would be down to tell you it’s not the end of the world. that there are a hundred other guys better than jay, ones who won’t even breathe in front of another woman, who’d treat you better— hell, i can treat you better if you ever give me a chance— and then a pause in his train of thoughts.
he looks at chaeun, who’s looking back at him with a perplexed look and her own set of questions. his mind replays those words yet again, and he screams internally.
what the heck?!
surprisingly enough, sunghoon has been thinking about jay for the whole evening now, obviously not in a good way. his eyes keep travelling to the knife stand on the kitchen island occasionally and every single time, he has to convince himself that murder is not the right answer to anything.
for some reason, he can’t stop imagining your smiles while on date with jay. not that he has ever seen those— wish i could— as he slaps himself out of his state of mind yet again. not only that man is playing with you but on jihye who’s apparently his girlfriend? he lets out the ugliest scoff known to mankind, because in sunghoon’s head, jay is a sick joke made by biology.
he waits for you to return from your shopping spree for about an hour, having beer as a company. he tries to stay awake although his eyes get droopy, and then every ounce of sleep leaves his body when he hears the door unlock.
“yn,” he practically jumps out of the couch, it almost scares you. he accidentally bumps into the living room table on the way, knocking an empty can of beer to the floor but too busy to bother picking it up. “i have to tell—” his eyes go down to the eleven shopping bags in your hands, as he counts them. “— wait, what did you shop so much for?”
“oh, i have to attend a family wedding next month,” his chest feels warm when he sees you smiling and looking so excited, and it’s making him go crazy on the inside because he doesn’t know what is happening to him. for some reason, he starts imagining you in a gown, like the one you wore for the fresher’s party, but then he forces his mind to get back to the point. “i’m thinking of asking jay to be my date,”
and his heart drops down to his stomach.
this has to be a fucking joke, and he tells himself. for a split second, he thinks he didn’t hear you properly. maybe you said jake because, well, jake did tweet a ‘date for rent’ form five months ago when he needed money to buy tickets for a post malone concert that cost more than his gentle monster glasses ( not that he got any money but at least they got a good laugh out of it. )
you remove your shoes and put the shopping bags on the couch before sitting down as well, letting out a heavy sigh. “you look like you saw a ghost,”
“a ghost would’ve been better,” he catches you looking at him when he mumbles under his breath, sort of grateful you didn’t hear him before sunghoon would rather not have another argument with you over how jay is not only a bad choice, he’s the worst choice.
he looks over at you when you pull out your phone, fingers fluttering over the screen as you text someone with a giddy smile. he considers telling you what he had seen earlier, but god, he loved to see you smile like that. the way you press your lips together to suppress a grin, looking ever so happy as if you have won a lottery. he doesn’t think you’ve ever smiled like that at him, and it aggravates him even more when he realises that you probably smile like that every time you see jay.
jay is getting everything he isn’t deserving of, and it pisses sunghoon off down to his bones.
but again, he can’t bring himself to tell you the truth. you look too happy for your own good, it pains him physically to even imagine your reaction when you’ll come to know the truth. and then he pulls himself together, telling himself that it is your fault in the first place to trust someone like jay and ignore the warning signs he was giving you.
in the end, he leaves without having any further conversations with you, going to bed two hours earlier than usual even though he knows he isn’t going to get any sleep. sunghoon is convinced he’s losing his mind, faster than a day ago actually. he lets out a frustrated groan and covers himself with his blanket, hoping to catch some sleep.
it’s going to be yet another long day tomorrow.
003. A CHANGE OF STANCE
sunghoon thinks you’re hot.
what the fuck?
“i asked something,” you remind, pulling him out of his trail of thoughts and he flinches slightly, making your brows furrow in confusion. “how do i look?”
“huh— what? oh,” he takes in your appearance again. hair down, make up done— you’re wearing your favourite lip tint? and the best dress he has seen you in so far, looking so mind blowing it actually blows his mind and short circuits his brain.
even your favourite lip tint … sunghoon doesn’t know why he’s looking at your lips in the first place but little does he know he’s fucked.
absolutely. completely. fucked.
nonetheless, he manages to compose himself, clearing his throat and sitting up ever so elegantly on the couch, legs crossed, the magazine still in his hands. “you look…t-terrific,”
you can’t help but get even more confused at his words, wondering if it was a bad idea to even ask him for his opinion, even though you play along. “like in a good way or a bad way?”
“in a terrific way,” he blurts out, eyes wide open as panic settles in slowly inside his stomach, and he’s stuttering, shocked, surprised, fucked, again. “you look terrific in a terrific way…so terrifically terrific in the most terrific way possible,”
“are you high?”
well, he would say he is! never in the two years that he has known you did sunghoon think he’d find himself floored, figuratively, and speechless, literally, at the sight of you. and he’s not saying you look bad on other days. you look good, in fact. good as in plain and presentable, but never in a good good way and definitely not in a hot way, of course.
“anyway, i’m going out. receive my parcel for me if it arrives,” you move to put on your shoes, taking a few seconds to pick between the two you think would suit your outfit. for a moment, you consider asking him to help you choose— as you look at him up and down peripherally, and he looks terrified. and you shrug it off, grabbing one of your loafers.
“where are you going?” he asks after a good minute of silence, sounding calmer than earlier as he gets off the couch and walks up to you. his nose scrunches up in disapproval as your hands move to one of your jimmy choos for a brief second, before you decide to go back to your initial pick.
“date,” he takes a moment to register your words, despite this happening many times.
a date. he scoffs softly, looking away, arms crossed.
a date, again. sunghoon doesn’t give a fuck.
“with jay,” you continue, this time with a sweet smile on your face that makes his heart flutter for some reason. maybe, he does give a fuck.
now, sunghoon should feel bad for his fellow friend of a friend because he’s on a date with you, but instead he wants to snap his neck in two. the name is starting to give him an ick— jay this, jay that. you’re hanging out with jay, having coffee with jay, going on a date with jay, shopping with jay, next would be going to bed with jay— he pauses immediately, shaking his head. he doesn’t really like the sound of that.
“whatever,” he tells himself when you walk out of that door, looking all pretty and excited. he doesn’t know why he’s getting so worked up over a date, that too with someone who— according to sunghoon and chaeun— is dating someone else. he would pay to see you back home all miserable and he would point fingers at you and laugh, saying he told you already while you had your conscience and rationality clogged up with the possibility of getting dicked down.
but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re on a date with jay fucking park. and you’re looking hot.
he sighs, slouching back on the couch, looking outside at the bright blue skies and then sighs again. he needs to be lobotomized.
it’s three in the noon and sunghoon is drowning himself in misery and pity. and soju.
a glass after another and then another, along with two empty bottles already on the table. even the owners are giving him a weird look and heeseung can only let him ruin his reputation so much.
“there, there,” the senior takes the half empty bottle of soju from his hand and puts it aside, sighing pitifully at sunghoon. “that’s enough for today. you need to stop drinking,”
“heeseung,” sunghoon looks up at the guy in front of him, looking horribly pitiful, eyes a bit unfocused from the alcohol settling in his system. “do you know yn?”
and heeseung pauses for a few moments, not knowing what prompted him to ask this question. more so when you and heeseung went to the same highschool and even were in the music club. he nods slightly in doubt, raising his glass to his lips. “of course,”
“do you think he’s pretty?”
“of course,”
“do you think she’s hot?”
“of course,” it takes heeseung quite a few seconds to respond and sunghoon sort of wants to punch him in the face for agreeing because he feels a certain way when others find you hot— but he would claim it’s soju giving him heartburns. “why are you even asking this suddenly?”
“she went on a date with jay,” he responds in the most miserable and sullen voice known to mankind. his shoulders practically slouching at the mention of he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned, finger tracing the rim of the glass in front of him with incoherent whines falling off his lips.
“so what?” jake interjects, beckoning the owner for yet another bottle for soju. it was necessary, as heeseung had warned earlier while arriving at the restaurant, considering sunghoon’s impromptu text about wanting to meet up.
“jake, did you hear what i said? she’s on a date with jay. park. jong. seong,” the youngest spells out every syllable, sitting up straight as he gets defensive. “she thinks he’s madly in love with her or something but she’s wrong! the day i went out with chaeun, i saw him with jihye and guess what? chaeun said everyone knows they’re a thing but apparently, yn doesn’t know this. i’ve told her so many times that he is not worth it but she won’t understand she’s fucking dumb oh my god,”
and…silence.
absolute fucking maddening silence that made sunghoon go even more insane before jake finally decides to speak, albeit in disbelief.
“that monologue was unnecessary,” the foreigner pours in another glass for the three of them, filling them up completely, knowing this is going in a new direction yet a one that has been anticipated by both him and heeseung. “besides, since when do you care about her?”
“she’s my roommate,”
“you like her,” heeseung exclaims, and silence follows again for a few seconds before sunghoon gasps scandalously, slamming his glass down on the table which turns a few heads in their direction as jake mutters an embarrassed apology for it.
“i don’t,” sunghoon speaks in a voice much calmer than his previous tone, even leaning in towards the table to put emphasis on his words. jake pours himself another glass, scoff at his words while shaking his head mockingly which only pisses him off more.
“i knew this would happen,” heeseung continues, stating it as a matter of fact while nudging jake to pour him a glass as well. “saw this coming from a mile away when you cried over her going on a blind date the last time you got drunk,”
he can’t point out when that must’ve happened, but he doesn’t refute his words, simply letting his eyes travel across the room for a few moments. the frown on his lips deepens when he meets jake’s knowing gaze as he gets defensive once again. “i’m telling you, i don’t like her,”
“you said that about hello kitty but she’s everywhere in your room now,” he turns his phone with the screen up when he feels jake’s eyes on it, or particularly on the hello kitty sticker on his phone cover as the boy nudges him for another glass. “go on, you’ll need it.”
and sunghoon does, drinking more than he usually does thanks to jake filling his glass again and again for the sake of his sob story. the cab drops him in front of his apartment and he stumbles his way to the elevator. the silence sobers him out for some reason as he leans against the walls of the elevator and thinks about you.
perhaps you’re still with jay, sharing smiles and stories, kisses if you’re brave enough. he likes to think you are not, that you would chicken out— it makes him feel better about himself. he imagines you holding hands with him and then shrugs that thought off his mind just as quickly, huffing at the bitter taste it leaves in his mouth as he walks out of the elevator once it reaches his floor.
sunghoon planned to take a shower and sleep, but every thought water downs to nothing when he spots you crouching next to the door with knees pressed up to your chest. he can’t see your face, but he knows you’re sad, and it makes him stop in front of you, his heart accelerating when you look up at him with glistening eyes.
you look miserable.
and sunghoon has no reaction. he’s frozen, hands on his side as he stares at you. he was supposed to laugh at you for your stupidity. but you look so utterly sad and heart broken, god, he wants to punch jay in his throat. yet again, every single thought leaves his mind when his eyes fall back on your face, his hands instinctively opening out to you as he speaks in a voice as soft as a feather.
“let’s go inside,”
004. CANDLELIT
“he said it was a bet,” you speak over the silence, fiddling with your fingers. you look up at sunghoon— who’s sitting with legs crossed in front of you while you’re curled up in one corner of the couch. “and that he never meant to drag it out for so long but he didn’t know how to tell me,”
“a bet?” he scoffs bitterly, looking away for a fraction of a second before his eyes are back on you. “what an asshole,”
it’s not the first time sunghoon has said that. in fact, asshole is all and the only word he uses to define jay. you still think it was a stretch, for jay isn’t that bad. sure, he lied to you and played with your feelings— which you will never accept that you had feelings for him because you don’t want to look pathetic— but he wasn’t rude. well, at least he paid for all the three dates you two went on with the locations being some high end restaurants or bakeries.
on the other hand, sunghoon stares at you in silence. his eyes trace over your sullen face, and then to your fingers. for a second, he considers holding your hands…roommates can do that at least, right? to comfort one another, but then he catches you looking up at him and he averts his gaze to a distant corner. “don’t start crying now!”
“i’m not! i didn’t even like him that much…” and he can’t help but suppress his smile at the pout on your face as you refuse to look at him. it’s adorable, he never thought he would ever say that, but it’s true. your mannerisms are cute, you’re cute, and it’s eating his brain cells.
“is that so? you talked about him like you two were in love or something,”
“stop it!”
he stares at you quietly for a few seconds again. even though you’re being defensive out of embarrassment right now, trying to prove to him that you’re not heartbroken, sunghoon knows you’ll be crying the moment you’re behind the closed doors of your room. on other days, he wouldn’t care so much. not more than giving a few pats on a back and telling you to suck it up despite the concern in his voice. today, however, he feels differently.
you got played. it’s your heart that’s broken. you feel like a fool, and yet sunghoon is sitting in front of you, trying to find words amidst awkwardness and hesitation. his heart feels heavy for you. it’s unfathomable on his part.
he suddenly remembers the day you mentioned that jay is better than him. he almost scoffs at that, again. well, you might harbour feelings for the american guy but at least sunghoon never had you holding back your tears. and he swears it would never come to that, if you ever have feelings for him because sunghoon would be a better boyfriend— and then he comes back to his senses as soon as those words register inside his brain, cheeks heating up at the sudden thought before he clears his throat.
“do you want ramen?” he manages to change the topic ever so swiftly, getting up from the couch and already walking to the kitchen without waiting for your response. apparently, getting away from you would ease his heartbeat, although hearing your voice has just as much effect on him as your presence or a mere thought of you.
“are you cooking?”
he lets out a breathy laugh at your words, getting two packs of ramen from the shelf. “of course, do you think i’d ask you to cook when you look like you went through a divorce and lost the custodies of all your three kids?”
you frown at his words, although ending up laughing at them just a second later. it’s hard to not laugh at how silly he is sometimes, if you ignore his annoying tendencies. sunghoon puts the water to boil, fighting back a smile at the sound of your laughter. it’s better than seeing you all sad over a guy who doesn’t deserve you.
you get off the couch as well, making your way to the kitchen, wanting to help him since he listened to your sob story. it’s quiet, and you hear slight rumbling outside as you take a quick look at the weather outside through the windows and then within a few seconds, thunder pierces through the silence hanging in the room.
sunghoon flinches visibly, freezing in his stance before the sound of heavy rain fills the kitchen. he turns on the electric stove and it blows out. all the lights in the apartment go out, darkness settling in and disturbed just as quickly as the room fills with bright flashes of light, illuminating your face for a short second before it’s dark again.
“wait, i’ll get my phone— oh,” you reach out for the back pocket of your trousers, quickly get your phone and turn it on for the flash light before it powers off. “out of battery,”
he takes a blind step into the darkness when it thunders again and he notices you standing with your arms around yourself when the light surges in the room for a moment again. he hopes you won’t push him away if he puts his arm around you, but then you two bump into each other. a quiet apology finds its way out of your lips, and he can tell you’re flustered.
“where are the candles?” he asks to distract you from the fact that he’s holding your hand and pulling you aside gently, so you don’t crash into each other again. your hands feel oddly warm in this cold weather, and it only flutters his heart even more.
“second shelf from the right i think,” your voice is interrupted by thunder again and your hands instinctively tighten around his fingers. and then a loud thud follows, causing you to gasp slightly. “are you okay?”
“i can’t fucking see,” his voice is strained, oozing off pain as he lets go off your hands. you open your mouth to speak before he bumps into something again. something falls off the counter, perhaps the spoon by the sound of it and he apologises shortly after. it’s harder to navigate around his own apartment, more than he had imagined.
sunghoon manages to find the candles, setting them on the counter with pure intuition before lighting one of it up with the lighter he always carries around in his pocket. he turns around, almost bumping into you and before he could say anything, he sees you pressed up against one of the counters, face illuminated by the dim candle light.
you’re close, too close, he’s afraid you can hear his heart going crazy at the proximity. his mind is telling him to step aside but he’s too lost looking in your eyes, ( as you are too ) with you looking so impossibly beautiful under the faint golden glow.
“is this okay?” he whispers softly and you simply nod, not a word coming out of your mouth as you find yourself entranced by his face. sunghoon has always been aphrodite’s son, as his admirers would call him, and now that you’re seeing him so closely, you’re realising he’s something much more beautiful.
it doesn’t slip your attention how his gaze settles on your lips for a quick second, your body tensing up at the sudden movement. your breath hitches as he leans closer, dipping his head down. your heart is racing while he feels like his heart has stopped— it’s timeless, as he finds himself just a few centimetres away from your lips, not wanting to stop even though he gives you a chance to pull back, whispering softly, “can i?”
you nod. and sunghoon doesn’t waste another second, capturing your lips with his.
it’s still at first, with your lips only pressed up together for a few seconds. it’s only a few seconds after he pulls back ever so slightly, and then tilts his head to the other side and goes in for another kiss, this time moving his lips slowly against yours. he feels you tense up for a brief while and then melting as you kiss him back, your fingers lacing around his tenderly. you flinch when it thunders again, breaking the kiss, but feeling shivers down your spine as you feel his breath on your lips.
he takes a few seconds, fingers ghosting up your hands to rest on your waist, tugging you closer as he brushes his lips against yours. “focus on my lips,”
and he kisses you again, this time a bit more firmly, albeit it’s slow and gentle at first, his lips moving against yours in a way that's both comforting and exciting. but as the moments pass, he presses in deeper, more insistently. he lets his body press more firmly against yours, his chest touching yours as his tongue gently teases at the seam of your lips. it was working, the way his lips move against yours, it calms your nerves from the thunder but lights them up again when he nibbles gently on your lower lip, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist as he continues to kiss you so fervently.
it takes a passing second for you to realise what you’re doing. it surprises you, however not enough to pull back, or maybe the way his tongue feels against yours stops you from doing so. you’d be lying if you say you hadn’t thought of kissing him before— as early as two days after moving in. and now that you’re actually kissing him, everything feels like a fever dream.
he tucks your chin up with his fingers, pulling you in closer to deepen the kiss. he is a good kisser, sunghoon uses that to boast about himself, he has always been good at this— kissing, bragging, making your knees weak, and all you could do was melt into him wet and sloppy kisses that he plants on your skin.
he dips his head down to your neck, pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, pulling your blouse aside to get a better access to your collarbones and shoulders. it felt like his body has a mind of its own, and he’s only following right behind. when a soft gasp leaves your lips, he moves back to your lips again, wanting to swallow every little sound you make that makes his mind haywire.
your breaths are heavy, hands around his neck with fingers grazing the skin of his nape. a movement that makes him moan softly in the kiss as he presses you against the counter, holding you between his arms. his hand that's resting on your hip moves up, tracing the curve of your waist and then sliding under your shirt to rest on your bare skin, lips curling up in a subtle smirk as he hears you gasp yet again.
“sunghoon—” you pull back, getting a quick glance at his half-lidded eyes when the lightning from the thunderstorm fills the room. he can still feel your laboured breathing on his lips and it does nothing but pull him in even more. after all, sunghoon would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine doing this with you.
“we’ll stop,” he pecks your lips, then trailing his lips down your jawline and to your neck, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along your skin. “when the candle goes out,”
005. WHERE THE LINE FADES
when sunghoon wakes up the next morning, he’s met with cold empty sheets on the side and the memories from last night start flooding his mind. his heartbeat accelerates at the mere thought of you, especially how you were last night and every time his name fell off your lips in bliss and pleasure— he would’ve preferred waking up to you rather than emptiness.
he lays idly for a few minutes and stares at the ceiling, looking for where it all had started. was it the day you told him jay asked you out? maybe not, he doesn’t like to think of himself as a jealous person. it must’ve been when you asked for his opinion on your outfit, he tells himself, you looked too good to be true that day. a few seconds more and he sits up with a soft groan, seemingly unable to find answers to any of his questions.
the weather seems to have improved as he notices the cosy sunlight outside. he slips on this shirt before walking down to the shared bathroom, rubbing his eyes softly and brushing his fingers through his hair with a sigh. he puts his hand on the door knob and looking up in surprise when it opens on the other side.
“oh,” the slight hint of shyness on your face doesn’t escape his gaze, just like how enchanting you look this early in the morning with hair wet from the shower. you bite slightly on your lower lip before the awkwardness in the air is disturbed by your voice. “morning,”
actually, it must’ve all started the day you moved in.
“morning,” he replies back, rubbing his nape and looking away. the weight of questions lingering around makes it hard for him to look in your eyes. “would you like to have breakfast?”
you nod and follow him into the kitchen after making a short trip to your room.
you steal a few glances at him while eating your breakfast, feeling your palms sweat at the thought of bringing it up to him. you avoid it for a few minutes, tossing the question around in your head while trying to make small talks about the ketchup, as bad as it could get. it feels a bit suffocating until you finally decide to address the elephant in the room. “so about last night—”
“it was a mistake,” he cuts you off immediately, a heavy pause following shortly after. he looks up in your eyes for the first time since the morning. “let’s just forget it,”
and his words leave a bitter taste in your mouth. it could’ve been just another one night stand for you had it not been with sunghoon— your roommate, the person you see everyday, the person who managed to give you butterflies the day you moved in. your fingers tighten around the spoon and you consider arguing back for a moment before you push that idea further back in your head.
it could be just another thing added to the lists of things that have been buried, like the time you and sunghoon almost kissed in the elevator last year.
“right,” you nod quietly, convincing yourself that it’s not a big deal. that he’s just another guy in your life like jay. actually, you don’t feel like wanting to compare them anymore. you don’t know where the line marking the difference fades. “of course, yeah,”
you don’t even like the sound of that.
“yeah,”
you don’t wait another minute before leaving your unfinished breakfast on the table and going to your room. his eyes follow your movements, conscience nudging him to chase after you. he contemplates it for a while, and then you walk out with your bag. “i’ll see you after classes,”
and then sunghoon doesn’t see you for the rest of the morning.
or the day, in fact. usually, you two end up bumping into each other at least once, but sunghoon doesn’t see you around for the whole day. he skips spanish, deciding to go back to his apartment earlier than usual. he turns on the tv, deciding to watch a football watch with beer on the side while waiting for you. an hour passes, then another, and another.
there’s no sign of you.
it isn’t until he rings up a few of your friends that he hears that you’re staying over at giselle’s for the night. he wouldn’t blame you, couldn’t, not after everything that went down a night ago. you needed some space and so did he, but somewhere inside he wondered if he should’ve been honest with you when you brought up that topic during breakfast instead of saying the first thing that came to his mind and dismissing it.
but, he dismisses it again, letting you be on your own for as long as you need, knowing you’d come back soon.
which you do, the very next day, much to his surprise. he had expected you to avoid him for at least a week. he notices the way you look when you return early in the morning, tired and exhausted as if you hadn’t got a single ounce of sleep. there’s silence engulfing him but you walk to your room before he could even open his mouth to speak. and then you ignore him for the rest of the day.
he starts feeling annoyed at some point, trying to come up with a reason for your actions. he tries striking up conversations with you and you give short responses, or just nod. when you walk away without answering him when he asked about your day, sunghoon wanted to grab your wrist and pull you back for a second, but he dismisses that idea just as soon as it pops up in his head. he doesn’t even realise how quickly time passes in silence, not until he returns from heeseung’s apartment after spending two nights and one day with him and jake and checks his phone, realising it’s already close to being a week till you’re gone radio silent. he notices a few texts, mostly his study group that have been planning meet-ups to study, one that he rarely attends. his eyes especially squint in confusion at the texts from your mother, saying she had been trying to get in touch with you but getting no response.
he was on his way to his room when he heard the door unlock. a pause, the click of the doorknob strikes through the silence, followed by your footsteps. he takes a few seconds to sort out his thoughts before speaking. “your mom texted me since you weren’t picking up her phone,”
“my phone died,” you give a simple response, almost too quickly for his liking. he lets his eyes follow your movements as you take off your shoes and jacket, putting it on the couch.
it takes him back to the day you told him about jay asking you out.
it was exactly the same— you arrived late, your phone had died. he was asking the same questions, albeit laced with annoyance. today, it’s hesitation, maybe slight doubt. sunghoon can’t stop you from seeing jay, but the idea of you being with him bothers him more than expected. so, he follows up with yet another question.
“where have you been?” he asks, wanting to maintain a casual demeanour even though his heart is pounding in his chest just from being near you. he isn’t expecting any response, actually, however he’s met with surprise when you actually reply.
“with jay,” the words fall from your mouth as if you’re used to them, used to saying his name. there’s an awkward pause before you clarify. “we had dinner together. he wanted to apologise properly,”
“that’s— that’s great,” he manages to squeeze out, but sunghoon thinks jay could’ve left you alone instead of meeting you if he wanted to apologise so bad.
you definitely had feelings for jay, even though they didn’t go as deep for you to come home sobbing your eyes out the day you learnt the truth. to sunghoon, that is enough of a reason to hate him even more. just the mere thought of your heart sinking whenever you’d even think of jay made him fist his hands, nails almost digging in the palm of his hands.
sunghoon doesn’t have much experience with girls. in fact, none at all. flings are one thing, and girlfriends another. he has had both— none too serious. the first time someone asked him out was in highschool, although he’s surprised it didn’t happen much earlier. that time, just agreed to go out with her because his friends were in relationships too and he didn’t want to fall behind. it wasn’t soon before it turned into a competition after he got into university. not his best self, it isn’t something he’s proud of now that he thinks about it.
and sunghoon isn’t half better than jay in that aspect, although obviously not as bad as to bet on going on a date with another girl while he already has a girlfriend. however, if you had feelings for him— as he thinks while watching you walk to your room— he wouldn’t let a single tear fall from your lips.
“about that night,” he follows you into your room, practically hearing his heartbeat echo through his ears. he gulps nervously when he notices you looking at him with a sliver of hope in your eyes. “it wasn’t a mistake,”
“oh,” and you stop in your tracks, having no idea how to respond. an awkward pause follows as you bite your lower lip habitually before speaking, feigning a casual tone. “well, we can still put it behind—”
“i don’t want to,” he blurts out, cutting you off mid sentence. you notice how his voice is quiet as always, yet there’s panic and anxiousness behind those eyes. “i mean, i tried to, but it’s difficult. you’re always on my mind,”
there’s a silver of determination behind his voice. it’s surprising and equally anticipated. sometimes, he feels like he thinks of you every minute no matter what he’s doing. it was never this bad, these days even the regular banters between you two give him butterflies. and sunghoon understand that he might be far from your type in men. perhaps, you actually prefer someone like jay, who treat you to a fancy dinner to apologise, or maybe that guy from a few months ago who can’t remember the name of.
you and sunghoon can be polar opposites and he would still be standing here, fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of his denim jacket, looking so uncharacteristically out of place. he would choose to have this talk again, as much as he hates confronting, because it never about who your type is and always about the fact that you’re sunghoon’s type— as he realises this when you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking at him with lips pressed together. you look cute, more so when you’re awkward, and he can’t believe he’s coming to terms with this but god, he is falling for you.
he is falling hard, and falling deep. it’s nothing like him, you make him nervous, almost as if knocking him out of air whenever your eyes meet, and he would gladly suffocate to death. it was quiet with too many questions hanging above his head, and he noticed the way you fiddle with your fingers with the cutest expression known to mankind and sunghoon knew he was screwed.
“i’ve got it so bad for you, yn, really,” —he speaks as if he’s out of breath due to the nervousness— “really bad. i tried to keep you out of here,” he said, pointing at his chest, cheeks flushing red as the words fell off his lips. “but you won’t go, you just won’t.”
and sunghoon has never been so…out of place, for the lack of better words. it’s amusing, even to you, the way he is right now. the sunghoon from three weeks ago wouldn’t even care but he, now, is pouring out all of himself, as if stripping him naked of his emotions and letting him see what lies behind the suave smiles and prideful words. as if showing you how easily you have him going crazy, right out of his mind and how he can’t help but just stare blankly as his eyes travel down to your lips occasionally— as they do now— and it leaves you in a frenzy when you notice it.
“i can’t stop thinking about that night— not in a weird way, just…” and you’re just standing in front of him, trying not to laugh at his antics. he’s cute, a pause, what the fuck. and then you just go along with it, knowing there’s no point denying it anymore now that you two are having this conversation.
you notice his little mannerisms, like how he can’t look in your eyes for the life in him, how he keeps shifting his weight from one leg to the other. it’s adorable, especially the way he can have all the attention in the room with just his mere presence. that’s sunghoon for you, with a presence so heavy it’s loud even when he’s silent. it’s so loud you can practically hear his mind, of all the words you know he wants to say but can’t. there’s a hitch in his breath, his eyes meet yours for the first time in the past few minutes— i like you— they say, and the next thing sunghoon knows is that you’re kissing him.
“i like you too,” you whisper against his lips after pulling back, your lips brushing against his. sunghoon feels like every single nerve in his body has been sparked, giving him goosebumps when you slowly intertwine your fingers with his.
of course, you know how he feels even before he could say it out loud. maybe, he just made it obvious for you to guess, otherwise sunghoon likes to think of himself as someone who can hide his feelings well. he lets go of your hands as soon as he feels you lace your fingers with his and instead, cups your cheeks ever so tenderly and leans down to capture your lips with his, smiling in the kiss. “i love you,”
˃ᗜ˂ : if you made it till here, i'm sending each one of u kisses >< thank u for reading, i hope u liked it. ps i had to put my heart aside and write jay's name ... never again will i put my man thru this huhu TT he's too good to do these things
#—approved.#CANDLEIT : 성혼#enhypen#enhypen drabbles#enhypen x reader#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen oneshots#sunghoon oneshots#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon scenarios#sunghoon drabbles#sunghoon headcanons#enhypen scenarios#enhypen headcanons#enhypen soft hours#enhypen angst#sunghoon angst
428 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! First, I wanted to say thank you for your post about updating software and such. I really appreciated your perspective as someone with ADHD. The way you described your experiences with software frustration was IDENTICAL to my experience, so your post made a lot of sense to me.
Second, (and I hope my question isn't bothering you lol) would you mind explaining why it's important to update/adopt the new software? Like, why isn't there an option that doesn't involve constantly adopting new things? I understand why they'd need to fix stuff like functional bugs/make it compatible with new tech, but is it really necessary to change the user side of things as well?
Sorry if those are stupid questions or they're A Lot for a tumblr rando to ask, I'd just really like to understand because I think it would make it easier to get myself to adopt new stuff if I understand why it's necessary, and the other folks I know that know about computers don't really seem to understand the experience.
Thank you so much again for sharing your wisdom!!
A huge part of it is changing technologies and changing norms; I brought up Windows 8 in that other post and Win8 is a *great* example of user experience changing to match hardware, just in a situation that was an enormous mismatch with the market.
Win8's much-beloathed tiles came about because Microsoft seemed to be anticipating a massive pivot to tablet PCs in nearly all applications. The welcome screen was designed to be friendly to people who were using handheld touchscreens who could tap through various options, and it was meant to require more scrolling and less use of a keyboard.
But most people who the operating system went out to *didn't* have touchscreen tablets or laptops, they had a desktop computer with a mouse and a keyboard.
When that was released, it was Microsoft attempting to keep up with (or anticipate) market trends - they wanted something that was like "the iPad for Microsoft" so Windows 8 was meant to go with Microsoft Surface tablets.
We spent the first month of Win8's launch making it look like Windows 7 for our customers.
You can see the same thing with the centered taskbar on Windows 11; that's very clearly supposed to mimic the dock on apple computers (only you can't pin it anywhere but the bottom of the screen, which sucks).
Some of the visual changes are just trends and various companies trying to keep up with one another.
With software like Adobe I think it's probably based on customer data. The tool layout and the menu dropdowns are likely based on what people are actually looking for, and change based on what other tools people are using. That's likely true for most programs you use - the menu bar at the top of the screen in Word is populated with the options that people use the most; if a function you used to click on all the time is now buried, there's a possibility that people use it less these days for any number of reasons. (I'm currently being driven mildly insane by Teams moving the "attach file" button under a "more" menu instead of as an icon next to the "send message" button, and what this tells me is either that more users are putting emojis in their messages than attachments, or microsoft WANTS people to put more emojis than messages in their attachments).
But focusing on the operating system, since that's the big one:
The thing about OSs is that you interact with them so frequently that any little change seems massive and you get REALLY frustrated when you have to deal with that, but version-to-version most OSs don't change all that much visually and they also don't get released all that frequently. I've been working with windows machines for twelve years and in that time the only OSs that Microsoft has released were 8, 10, and 11. That's only about one OS every four years, which just is not that many. There was a big visual change in the interface between 7 and 8 (and 8 and 8.1, which is more of a 'panicked backing away' than a full release), but otherwise, realistically, Windows 11 still looks a lot like XP.
The second one is a screenshot of my actual computer. The only change I've made to the display is to pin the taskbar to the left side instead of keeping it centered and to fuck around a bit with the colors in the display customization. I haven't added any plugins or tools to get it to look different.
This is actually a pretty good demonstration of things changing based on user behavior too - XP didn't come with a search field in the task bar or the start menu, but later versions of Windows OSs did, because users had gotten used to searching things more in their phones and browsers, so then they learned to search things on their computers.
There are definitely nefarious reasons that software manufacturers change their interfaces. Microsoft has included ads in home versions of their OS and pushed searches through the Microsoft store since Windows 10, as one example. That's shitty and I think it's worthwhile to find the time to shut that down (and to kill various assistants and background tools and stop a lot of stuff that runs at startup).
But if you didn't have any changes, you wouldn't have any changes. I think it's handy to have a search field in the taskbar. I find "settings" (which is newer than control panel) easier to navigate than "control panel." Some of the stuff that got added over time is *good* from a user perspective - you can see that there's a little stopwatch pinned at the bottom of my screen; that's a tool I use daily that wasn't included in previous versions of the OS. I'm glad it got added, even if I'm kind of bummed that my Windows OS doesn't come with Spider Solitaire anymore.
One thing that's helpful to think about when considering software is that nobody *wants* to make clunky, unusable software. People want their software to run well, with few problems, and they want users to like it so that they don't call corporate and kick up a fuss.
When you see these kinds of changes to the user experience, it often reflects something that *you* may not want, but that is desirable to a *LOT* of other people. The primary example I can think of here is trackpad scrolling direction; at some point it became common for trackpads to scroll in the opposite direction that they used to; now the default direction is the one that feels wrong to me, because I grew up scrolling with a mouse, not a screen. People who grew up scrolling on a screen seem to feel that the new direction is a lot more intuitive, so it's the default. Thankfully, that's a setting that's easy to change, so it's a change that I make every time I come across it, but the change was made for a sensible reason, even if that reason was opaque to me at the time I stumbled across it and continues to irritate me to this day.
I don't know. I don't want to defend Windows all that much here because I fucking hate Microsoft and definitely prefer using Linux when I'm not at work or using programs that I don't have on Linux. But the thing is that you'll see changes with Linux releases as well.
I wouldn't mind finding a tool that made my desktop look 100% like Windows 95, that would be fun. But we'd probably all be really frustrated if there hadn't been any interface improvements changes since MS-DOS (and people have DEFINITELY been complaining about UX changes at least since then).
Like, I talk about this in terms of backward compatibility sometimes. A lot of people are frustrated that their old computers can't run new software well, and that new computers use so many resources. But the flipside of that is that pretty much nobody wants mobile internet to work the way that it did in 2004 or computers to act the way they did in 1984.
Like. People don't think about it much these days but the "windows" of the Windows Operating system represented a massive change to how people interacted with their computers that plenty of people hated and found unintuitive.
(also take some time to think about the little changes that have happened that you've appreciated or maybe didn't even notice. I used to hate the squiggly line under misspelled words but now I see the utility. Predictive text seems like new technology to me but it's really handy for a lot of people. Right clicking is a UX innovation. Sometimes you have to take the centered task bar in exchange for the built-in timer deck; sometimes you have to lose color-coded files in exchange for a right click.)
265 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hiiieeeeee may I maybe recommend a fic with Stevie and maybe his ditsy/clumsy gf?
And maybe she tries a new recipe and cooks/bakes something different and gives herself a nasty burn and maybe it’s the first time Steve hears her swear and he’s so concerned over her because she’s clearly hurt and crying but she’s more upset about messing up the dish instead of how badly the burn actually is?
hope u like it angel xoxo — steve patches you up after you burn yourself making breakfast for him (hurt/comfort, established relationship, cw for mentions of minor injuries, 1k)
French toast sizzles on a hot pan. You stand in front of the stove, in nothing but a stolen t-shirt and a modest pair of underwear, and watch it cook with your features pinched in a distant concentration. Your Stevie wanted breakfast — “’s the only thing I want in the whole world,” the boy whined dramatically into his pillow — so you were gonna make him breakfast or die trying.
Steve sits quiet at the kitchen table, sipping steaming coffee from a Count Chocula mug, and hissing every time it burns his tongue. He decides to flip through the Sunday newspaper, mostly ‘cause he feels the honeyed domesticity calls for it. He only finds real interest in the cartoon page.
“Alright. Put ‘em up,” Charlie Brown threatens in the first panel, dressed head to toe in cowboy gear. Snoopy’s in the second one, with both of his black ears sitting straight in the air.
Steve chuckles to himself, a sharp exhale through his nose, and opens his mouth to call you over. “Fuck!” he hears you squeak before he can. It makes him laugh for real this time. “Hey. Watch the language, babe,” the boy teases.
“Sorry…” he hears you murmur in response. With your back still facing him, obscuring any view of the hot stove, he figures you must’ve burnt the first batch of toast.
It wouldn’t be the most surprising thing, anyway. You’re the clumsiest person he’s ever met (more than Robin, which he didn’t think was even possible). You’re not much of a chef either, bustling around the kitchen with a floundering air of confidence.
“Such a naughty word from such a pretty girl,” Steve jokes in an attempt to make you laugh. He hears his sensitive girl sniffle to herself instead, like you’re crying — or about to. His crooked smile ebbs. “Hey… I was just kidding, babe. You can say whatever the hell you want— I don’t care.”
His chair scrapes the tile when he stands. His socked feet pad against the floor on his way to you. “I swear all the time,” Steve says and embraces you from behind. His scruffy chin bobs on your shoulder. “I mean, you’ve heard me— I basically make up new words.”
He scoffs a faint laugh before pressing a kiss to your temple.
You sniffle again. “I messed up,” you murmur, voice wet with unshed tears.
“What do you mean?”
“The french toast. I put too much egg in the mixture, and now everything’s all sticky— It’s gonna be so gross now.”
You ramble mindlessly and gesture with your hands. Steve catches a glimpse of a red and raging welt on the outside of your thumb. The sight of the fresh burn makes his chest twist.
“Holy shit, babe.”
You meet his concerned gape with a doe-eyed look. “What?”
“Your hand— Let me see.”
He takes your fingers in his gentle, softly calloused ones. You shrug off his palpable worry but let him examine your stinging skin nonetheless. “It’s fine. Doesn’t even hurt,” you lie through your teeth. “I barely even felt it.”
Steve’s peers at you beneath his lashes, bushy brows raised until his forehead wrinkles. “It’s gotta hurt, babe,” he insists in a monotone.
“My bruised pride hurts more.”
He grins before he means to. “Come on, weirdo— let’s get a bandaid on you,” the boy chuckles and turns off the burning stove-eye. You gasp when he tugs you out of the kitchen with a gentle hand around your wrist.
“But breakfast!” you whine in protest.
“I’ll drive us to the diner after, alright? I promise,” Steve assures as he leads you down the hallway. “That way neither of us has to die to put some food on the table.”
“Well, that’s just dramatic.”
He shrugs and flips on the bathroom light. “Maybe a little.”
You sit on the edge of the bathroom counter, per Stevie’s instructions, while he fishes for the first aid kit in the cabinets. He fits just perfectly between your thighs, you notice, as he rubs ointment onto your finger with an impossibly gentle touch. You quickly forget about the raised welt on your thumb — too focused on the pretty boy who holds all his love in his hands.
“There you go. Good as new,” Steve smiles once he’s stuck a plaster flush to your skin. He doesn’t notice the small pout scrunching your pretty face until he’s closed the first aid kit. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’…” you murmur, gaze averted as you pick at the fraying hem of your oversized tee. “I just… I wanted to do something nice for you, but I messed it all up, and you ended up having to do something nice for me…”
Steve scoffs. “You do nice stuff for me all the time.”
Your frown deepens.
“You tidied up the house when I was working late yesterday,” he tells you. “And you did the dishes even though you hate doing the dishes—”
“Everyone hates doing the dishes,” you insist.
“Exactly!”
“Well, you said death would be easier than doing them, so I thought it’d make it easier on you by doing it while I was off…”
“Exactly,” Steve repeats, settling between your legs once more. He smooths a pair of wide palms over the outsides of your thighs and flashes you another pretty smile. “You make everything easier on me. Even when you don’t mean to.”
You peek at him beneath your lashes, gaze glimmering with something short of hope. “Really?” you wonder in a mousy voice.
“Yeah! All the time!” the boy scoffs without thinking.
He wraps a pair of golden arms around your shoulders and pulls you in for a smothering hug. Your hands curl into his sweatshirt as you bury your face in his neck — inhaling the sweet scent of sleep and leftover cologne lingering there.
Steve noses at your hair, still a bit wild from your slumber. “Except for when you accidentally burn yourself and act like it’s not a big deal,” he teases with a smile curling at your temple.
Muffled against his neck, you grumble, “It wasn’t.”
#published by bug#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#stranger things x reader#steve harrington#stranger things imagine#stranger things fic#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#st drabbles#stevie drabble
297 notes
·
View notes
Text
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3
Behind Closed Doors 3
Despite your promise not to sneak behind the team again, you find yourself in a compromising position when you’re forced to ride in the same car as him.
Warnings: (18+, MDNI) Nipple/breast play, dry humping, semi public, dirty talk, and technically this isn’t car sex but everything happens in a car, there’s just no penetration. ~2.5k words (not proofread)
A/n: This wasn’t supposed to be in my WIP but… I blame him for looking so slutty in that shirt. Btw, this is shorter because I already have a lot on my plate but I really wanna squeeze this in, so enjoy! If you’ve been following since the first part, our kinky, slightly exhibitionist duo is back
You liked to think you had a good sense of self control when it came to your sex drive. In your past relationships, you were rarely the one to make the first move. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy sex—far from it, actually—but you didn't see it as the centerpiece of a relationship. Sex was enjoyable, yes, but it wasn’t everything.
At least, that's what you thought until now.
You recently reached a realization that three factors led you to reconsider this long-held belief, and unsurprisingly, they all revolved around Spencer Reid.
The first one was his choice of clothes. It seemed like he had woken up one day and decided that undoing the top buttons of his shirt was the new norm. It was as if he was taunting you, and it was working. The moment you saw him wearing that shirt this morning, all you could think about was dragging him into a storage room and have your dirty, nasty way with him.
The second thing was the way your heart raced when he accidentally brushed his hand against yours as you both reached for the car keys. Emily had asked you both to interview a key witness, and naturally, you assumed you’d be the one driving because Spencer rarely volunteered to take the wheel. But to your surprise, he insisted on driving.
It was strange. You wondered what had prompted this change, but you didn’t protest. In fact, you let him. Happily. Because this set the stage for what became the third significant moment that made you reconsider everything.
Him driving the damn car.
You found yourself unable to keep your eyes off him. The way his hands gripped the wheel, moving with effortless control that hinted at a confidence he rarely displayed. Your gaze traveled up his arm, noting the tension in his muscles, and the way his shirt tightened across his shoulders with each turn.
Then there was his face. Your gaze drifted to his jawline, appreciating the sharp angles and the way it tightened slightly when he was deep in concentration. You had to squeeze your thighs together because watching him drive was enough to make you wet.
It was highly inappropriate, of course. You were both on the job, and there was a witness to interview. So you forced yourself to stay professional. It wasn’t until after you finished, after you and Spencer had informed Emily of what you had found and given her the necessary details over the phone, that your ogling became more prominent on the drive back to the station.
And despite being subtle about it, Spencer seemed to know the effect he had on you.
“Is there something you want to say?” His voice was low, slightly amused, as he spared a quick glance in your direction before focusing back on the road.
You forced yourself to look away from his hands. “What do you mean?”
“You seem… distracted.”
You swallowed, trying to muster up an explanation that wouldn’t give away too much. “Just thinking about the case.”
The corners of his mouth twitched as if he were fighting back a smile. “Really? Because it looked more like you were deep in thought about something else.”
You felt a flush of warmth rise to your cheeks. “Well, maybe the case isn’t the only thing on my mind.”
“Oh? And what else were you thinking about?”
“I don’t know if you’d be interested.”
“Try me.”
You turned your body towards him. “It’s highly inappropriate.”
“Now you’ve really got my attention.”
You hesitated, feeling the car’s warmth envelope you, making the space seem smaller, more intimate. “Okay, but remember, you asked for it,” you said, taking a deep breath. “I was thinking about... how well you handle the steering wheel.”
Spencer laughed, a deep, genuine sound that filled the car. “Is that your way of saying you like my driving, or something more metaphorical?”
“Maybe a bit of both. I mean, a person’s driving does say a lot about them, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” he agreed. “And what does my driving say about me?”
“That you’re good with your hands.”
Spencer’s eyes met yours briefly, and you squeezed your thighs tighter.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said finally, his voice low. There was a brief pause and you wondered whether you had gone too far, whether this wasn’t the right time or place to flirt so openly, but then he spoke again.
“And since we’re sharing, I was thinking about something a bit inappropriate too.”
Your breath hitched slightly. “Like what?”
“Like how it’s hard to focus on the road when you’re looking at me like that.”
“…how am I looking at you?”
He gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. “Like you want me to pull over to the side of the road and kiss you.”
A silence fell between you, and for a moment, you could hardly breathe. You felt a flush of warmth spread through your body, and you bit your lip, considering his words.
“And what if I do?” You asked softly.
You noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, clearly fighting to maintain his composure.
“Then I’d have to find a quiet place for us.”
Your body responded immediately, a wave of heat coursing through you as your breath quickened. You could feel your pulse thrumming in your veins, an urgent, needy beat that matched the thoughts racing through your mind.
“Spence?”
“Yeah?”
“Pull over.”
For a moment, he didn’t move, his eyes searching yours. Then, without hesitation, he scanned the road for a safe spot. The anticipation was almost unbearable as you watched him steer the car onto a narrow, dark lane shielded by dense shrubs. The path seemed to swallow the sound of the engine as he drove further away from the main road.
The silence that followed was thick as he turned off the engine. You both stared at each other, acutely aware of what you were about to do, about the potential consequences, but everything blurred as you both moved at the same time.
Everything was fast, a rush of motion and emotion as Spencer leaned over the console. His lips met yours with an urgency that left no room for hesitation.
His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, while you clung to his arm. He kissed you hungrily, desperately, as if trying to communicate every unspoken word through the press of his mouth against yours. The more he kissed you, the more you felt the heat between your thighs and you realized that, in fact, you really had no control over your sex drive.
You then opened your mouth, letting him sink his tongue into you, pressing your body against his. But he was too far away, and you needed more of his heat, more of him. So, you undid your seat belt and did the only thing that felt natural—you climbed onto his lap.
You both moaned when his cock finally pressed against your core, and he found pause,ps again, his hand cradling the back of your head while the other rested firmly on your hips, urging you to move. The movement was instinctive, a rhythm that was driven by desperation.
You felt his mouth kisses trail from your lips down to your neck, marking a trail of heat that had you burning for more. Your fingers found the buttons of your shirt, and before you could second guess yourself, you undid them one by one.
Spencer’s hands followed the path you created, tracing the newly exposed skin. His large palms moved along your ribs before they rested just beneath your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your hard nipples through the fabric of your bra. You gasped, your head falling back in sheer pleasure.
His lips found your neck again, kissing and nipping at the delicate skin. His fingers pulled down your bra, exposing your breasts, and when he quickly sucked on your sensitive nub without warning, you bucked your hips, a strangled moan escaping your lips.
His sound of pleasure vibrated against your skin when you moved your hips at a steady pace, the friction driving you both to new heights. You could feel the material of your underwear sticking between your wet folds, and you wished desperately that there was no barrier between you. But time was ticking, and you both knew you were on the clock.
This had to be enough.
Spencer pulled back slightly, your nipple stretching with him, your supple skin following his movements until he let go with a soft pop. He then turned his attention to your other breast, his tongue teasingly circling your hardened nipple before hungrily engulfing it in his mouth.
Your hands gripped onto his shoulders, your nails digging in slightly as you arched your back. You felt his hands roaming over your waist, holding you steady, grounding you even as you felt yourself spiraling higher into a state of pure ecstasy.
“Spence,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. His response was to look up at you with those intense, brown eyes as he continued to suck on your nipple.
His mouth moved with deliberate precision, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucks, driving you completely insane. You could feel your control slipping, your body responding to his every touch, and you found yourself unable to think of anything but him. The way he made you feel, the way his touch ignited every nerve in your body.
You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him on, lost in the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you. His lips left your breast, trailing kisses up your chest and neck until he reached your lips, capturing them in a searing kiss that left you breathless.
The taste of him, the feel of his body against yours, was everything you had been longing for.
“More,” you whispered against his lips, your voice a desperate plea.
“I know, I know,” he murmured back. “I got you.”
You shook your head, breathless. “I wanna feel you.”
He groaned. How he wanted that to happen, but you were both gone long enough and reality was beginning to intrude on your stolen moment.
“We can’t, not here,” he said, his voice strained with desire as he rested his forehead against yours. “We don’t have enough time.”
You bit your lip, trying to push back the disappointment. “I know, but I-I need you.”
“Soon,” he promised. “When we have more time, I’ll give you everything you need.”
Your hips moved faster. “Everything?”
He nodded, his eyes fluttering close when he felt you pressing harder on his cock. “Everything.”
“You’ll finally fuck me?”
His breath hitched at your bold words, his control slipping further.
“Say it. Say you’ll fuck me.”
His self-control wavered, the raw desire in your voice pushed him to the edge as his palms gripped your ass.
“Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?”
You never thought there would be a time when you’d hear those words from him, and yet here you were, craving for more. You nodded and grinded against him, trying to find that delicious pressure on your clit.
“Yes,” you whispered, your voice laced with urgency. “I want you to fuck me hard.”
Spencer groaned, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned in closer. “Then imagine me inside you,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “Think about my cock sliding into you, filling you up completely.”
“F-Fuck,” you gasped, moving against him rhythmically. Who would’ve thought he’d be good at this?
“Imagine my hands gripping your hips, pulling you down onto me,” he continued, his breath warm against your neck. “You’d feel every inch, deep and perfect.”
Your heart pounded as his fantasy played out in your thoughts. “Yes,” you gasped, finding it hard to keep steady. “Please, keep going.”
“I’d set a rhythm that drives you crazy,” he murmured. “Fast, then slow, teasing you, drawing out every moan and gasp until you’re begging me not to stop.”
“Oh God…” you moaned. “Please…”
He continued, relentless and commanding. “And when you’re close, when you’re right on the edge, I’d look into your eyes, whisper how beautiful you are, how good you feel wrapped around me…”
“Spencer, I—”
“And then I’d thrust harder, deeper,” he cut off your words, his tone intense. He pressed a hand against your lower abdomen as if to illustrate his point. “I’d fill you completely, over and over, until all you can do is cling to me and take it.”
You were practically trembling now, his words and slight touches driving you wild.
“I’m so close,” you managed to breathe out, your movements becoming less rhythmic and more desperate. His hands went back to your hips. His grip tightened, steadying and encouraging your frantic movements as he felt his own orgasm nearing.
“Come with me,” he whispered, pressing himself closer to you.
His words, his grip, his presence overwhelmed you. You felt the buildup, almost unbearable, as if every nerve in your body focused on the impending release. Then, with a final, mutual push, you felt the wave break.
Pleasure surged through you, intense and all-consuming. His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down as he drove himself up, his name spilling from your lips in a cry of release. You felt him tense, heard his own cry muffled against your skin, as he reached his climax with you.
Panting, you both slowed, the car filled with the sound of heavy breathing and the soft hum of the engine in the background. Spencer’s hands softened on your hips, caressing now, soothing the spots where his fingers had pressed.
You ran a hand through his thick hair. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a dirty mouth?”
His grin was both sheepish and proud as he met your gaze. “You’re actually the first person to hear it.”
Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed, his hands carefully adjusting your clothes. “It seems you have a way of bringing out a side of me I didn’t know I had.”
You watched him, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. There was so much you wanted to say, so many feelings swirling inside you, but the words felt too fragile for the moment. Instead, you settled for the silence.
Spencer didn’t seem to mind. He tapped your hip gently, drawing your attention. “Come on, I think we need to drop by the hotel before we go back to the station.”
When he caught the startled look you sent him, he laughed.
“To change my pants. Nothing else.”
“…oh.”
“You sound disappointed.”
You blushed, caught off guard by his remark and your own reaction. “No, I just—” you started, then paused, searching for the right words. “I mean, yes, maybe a little.”
His smile widened, pleased by your response. “I’ll tell you what,” he began. “After we finish this case, after we fly back, let’s spend time together. Just you and me.”
Your hands pressed against his chest, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt. You wondered what it would be like to have him pressed against you with nothing between you, to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat directly under your palms.
The thought made you both nervous and excited at the same time.
“Really?”
He leaned in for a kiss. “Really.”
“You promise?”
He smiled against your lips.
“I promise.”
#behind closed doors#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencerreid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid fluff#Fanfiction#gifwriting
176 notes
·
View notes
Text
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆when the world is asleep⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
tags: idol!bangchan x reader, established relationship, fluff, slight hurt comfort (really just a couple doing their best in a bad situation), reader has ~anxiety~
3:00 AM in the quiet part of town is your favorite place in the world. On the outskirts of the city, where only families and old folks live and the streets are empty this time of night, you have found what seems like the only place in the world where you and Chan can feel truly at ease.
You’d been waiting for him to come over all day, so when he finally called around ten saying he just left the studio you became giddy with excitement that soon turned into anxiety. It’s not like he had never been to your apartment before or that you felt uncomfortable around him; it’s just that you can never shake the fear that this time is when everything will go wrong. That this is the night you’ll be caught by photographers or fans and soon everyone will know and your relationship will change forever. That your whole life could change forever. These worries echoed in your brain as you went down to the entrance of your building to let Chan in.
Your nerves were obvious; you didn’t hug him as tightly as you wanted to--trying to maintain the illusion that you could just be friends should anyone see you--and your smile twisted into a grimace as you kept an eye on your surroundings.
The summer night air ruffled the hair that stuck out from his hat “Hey, Baby!” he said with a soft smile “You feeling alright?”
“Yeah, I’m good. I’m glad you could come over tonight,” You shyly smile, still not being able to shake the tight feeling in your stomach.
He hummed a response and, sensing how on edge you were , looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was around before asking, “Should we go upstairs? I brought ice cream,” and lifted up a convenience store bag in his hand.
After heading up to your apartment the two of you spent hours just talking in your room. You were mostly catching up—you hadn’t seen each other in a couple of days due to your schedules—but eventually, it dissolved into a mess of inside jokes, you showing him all the Tik Toks you’d saved for him, him showing you videos of the boys messing around in dance practice in return, and whatever other nonsense made you both smile. Even though your relationship could be stressful, actually being with Chan was the easiest thing in the world. Honestly, you would be happy staying here forever; cuddled in his arms in the dim light of your bedroom, listening to his laugh get all squeaky as he worked himself up over some dumb video you won’t even remember in the morning.
What you will remember, however, is how hot you are right now. Turns out your fourth-floor apartment with one broken AC unit could spell quite the sweathouse in the summer—especially with the amount of physical contact you two are prone to after some time apart. Chan had already shed his shirt sometime in between his first and second popsicle, and you had all of your fans on high pointed at your bed where you both laid tangled up with each other.
Chan, after finally calming down from his laughing fit, let out a sigh as he stared up at your ceiling. "You know I love you, right?"
"Yeah, why?" You asked, confused by his sudden declaration.
He continued quickly, "And you know that I really like coming over to your place-"
"Yeahh?"
"-because of the lack of roommates and overall better smell?"
"Also, I have HBO."
"Yes, also that—so will you not take offense if I, hypothetically, say that I’m going to die of heat stroke if I stay in here any longer?" He looked over at you with a rueful smile.
You laughed silently as you looked into his eyes. "I’ll go get my shoes."
He let out a triumphant "Yes!" and pumped his fist into the air as you got off of the bed, satisfied with the result of your banter. As you continued to get ready, he moved to the edge of your bed and was brought back to how anxious you seemed when he first arrived. "We don’t actually have to go out if you don’t want to, though," he said, scratching his arm as a nervous tick. "I know that we both get all paranoid when we’re not in private, and I don’t want to ruin the night or anything."
You turned to face him and put a reassuring hand on his arm, whilst you tried to shove your own concerns to the back of your mind."Don’t worry about it. I was thinking we could go to that one spot—you know, where we went on your birthday?"
"Yeah, that sounds perfect." He said with a relieved smile.
And that’s what brought you here; after checking for paparazzi from your apartment windows, and after you went outside and checked again, ensuring you both had your incognito face masks and baseball caps on. Finally, you were able to make the epic journey two blocks down and one over to a small playground surrounded by some trees and a fence: your safe haven. Taking in the warm night air as the wind lightly blows across your face--gently wicking the sweat on your brow--and hearing the leaves softly rustle as you both sit on the old swing set and let your legs dangle. You did what you loved to do most with each other: you talked.
"I’m sorry it’s always like this," Chan said as he looked at his feet, the toe of his shoes sputtering over the rubbery ground as he swayed, "that we can’t just get together and go to restaurants and the movies or—I don’t know— win you a big teddy bear at a carnival," he laughs half-heartedly, "or whatever regular couples get to do."
You smile sadly. "I’m sorry too. Maybe I’m just being overly cautious."
He reaches over, grabs your hand, and rubs gentle circles on the back with his thumb, letting you know he isn’t mad and that he doesn’t blame you for anything.
"I could tell the company, and they could release a statement or something." His tone hitches up at the end, almost like it’s a question—or maybe just the only thing he can think of to ease your guilt.
Not wanting to worry him, and always the best at avoiding the hard topics, you raise your eyebrows and sarcastically remark, "Oh yeah, and that would go over really well."
"Hm, yeah, you’re right. What do you think they would say, though?"
You lower your voice and attempt your best soulless executive impression. "'How could you, Chan?! You’re being so selfish by having desires and feelings! How do you expect us to monetize you when we can’t sell you as a fantasy boyfriend? Blargh rargh raa!'" You both chuckle at the absurdity of your situation: "And then of course you’ll get punished by your company, and everyone on Twitter is going to eat you alive when they find out, and you’ll get a tidal wave of hate thrown at you-"
"Oh, for sure." He nods along to your pessimistic prophecy (and excellent impression).
"-and I’ll be, like, assassinated by a bunch of teenagers whose identity hinges on the fantasy that they are secretly your one true love." You finish with a breathy chuckle.
He smiles at the ground. "Hey, Stays are much more than that," he says in an only half-serious defense.
"Heh, not the ones that I’ll have to deal with," you reply, almost to yourself. He seems to draw back at that comment, whatever clever response he had lined up dying on his lips.
You press your toes into the soft ground and push your swing over to his so that your shoulders touch. "I’m joking, Chan," you say in a soft voice.
"No, you're not." He shoots back in defeat. You sigh and try to meet his evasive eyes.
"You’re right, I’m not," you sigh, leaning in closer to him, "but that doesn’t mean I regret any of this. I can wish things were different while still loving how they are now." He finally meets your eyes, and his gaze goes soft. You share a fond look and, without words, reach an understanding: you're the best thing that has happened to each other, and eventually your love may see the light of day, but for now, just this is more than enough.
He brings your hand up to his mouth and lightly kisses your knuckles before letting your arms fall in between the both of you. "You’re right. I love this too. I’ll love anything as long as we can do it together." His words are full of tenderness and a rom-com sincerity that only he can do right.
"Except sit in my hot apartment." You smile as you lean towards him, and he smiles too as he goes in for a kiss.
"No, I loved that too. Just a little less than this." His lips touch yours, gentle and grinning, as your giggles float up into the night sky and you feel truly at ease once more.
#bang chan x reader#bang chan imagines#bang chan fluff#bang chan drabbles#skz x reader#skz imagines#skz fluff#stray kids fanfic#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#skz fanfic#this is my first fic ever!!#i hope its good!! :]
160 notes
·
View notes
Text
🗝 Don't Back Down 🗝
Pairing: Unit Chief! Sub Spencer Reid x dom! BAU Reader
For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 24
Requested: Hello!! You are an excellent writer, and I hope you don’t mind a random request. :)!Basically, Spencer breaks protocol and endangers himself - runs after an unsub without backup, takes off his vest, etc. whatever it is - the reader is either there or finds out and is PISSED. She’s obviously not above him in the BAU, so she can’t punish him at work, but she can punish him in bed through toys/edging.
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, brief mentions of details, minor gunshot wound, sex toys, punishment, BDSM themes, male sub Spencer, cock ring, dildo, masturbation (f), squirting, overstimulation (male), multiple orgasms, begging, messy sex, slight cum play, implied oral sex (f), boss/ subordinate relationship, partial established relationship, FWB dynamic. Implied switch x switch.
A/N: Hello! I really loved writing Unit Chief Spencer for my first Kink Bingo fic, so I've decided to bring him back a second time, and I'll be rounding out the challenge with a third part in the Unit Chief saga in July! You don't have to have read the first part, but if you want to, you can find it here~♡ I'm still enjoying the challenge of interpreting all the bingo challenges and this marks my very first bingo line! Let's see if I can get a full board!!
Masterlist || Bingo Board
His tenure as Unit Chief may have been temporary and wholly unwanted, but you admired Spencer's commitment to actually taking care of every member of the team he was left in charge of.
He'd supported JJ in interviews, actually taking care of the press very effectively, and made sure Garcia was calm and stable. Hell, he'd even made Rossi feel better about his work on cases. And for you - well, he'd taught you to shoot straight. That and more.
He'd held you in the middle of the night on the tougher cases, letting you sob into his bare chest the day you'd first killed an unsub. He'd distracted you from cases with his tongue, and his fingers and his dick, he'd given you pleasure where the job gave only pain and stress, and you loved him.
You loved him, even if he was going to get himself killed.
At first, it had been pulling Luke out of the way of a moving vehicle, being almost mowed down himself when on a case. Then he'd walked into a scene without his gun and had actually taken off his vest in exchange for JJ and Tara being able to back away to safety. He'd closed a door between him and Rossi and an active bomb that had only just been deactivated in time, and more recently, he'd taken two bullets for you.
It was like he wanted to die.
Th bullets, of course, had hit his vest, but a third had scraped his shoulder, and the cry out of pain had you nearly hysterical. Luke had taken down the unsub immediately, but you were a flood of tears already, panicking and having and dropping to your knees as you shook, the anxiety of almost losing him flooding your body with adrenaline.
After all that, he was still the one comforting you.
“Y/N. Y/N, shhh, it's okay, I'm here. I'm okay. Don't cry were both safe, I saved you. We're safe.”
You pounded at his chest, but with the others surrounding you, there was nothing to do but stand and pull yourself together, even if you wanted to rage at him and tell and scream.
He gave out orders and was escorted away to an ambulance, and you wiped your tears and got to work. You'd fucked Spencer, sure, you had been fucking him for months now, but it wasn't a relationship. It certainly wasn't anything your coworkers knew about, and you knew they'd have words if they did know.
So you wiped your tears, and you put your head down and finished up your work. Then you made your way back to the jet, back to your home, back to your bed, and waited for him to make an appearance.
You weren't in a relationship, but you knew he'd come. You heard his keys in your door, rolling your eyes at how naive you'd been handing it over - in case of emergencies, really, he had Luke and Penelope’s spare keys as well because they lived alone, it'd be safer.
You sat up in your bed and waited for him to come in, scoffing when he knocked on your bedroom door.
“Was there a point to that, Spencer?” You asked, calling him in.
He looked dishevelled, slightly worse for ware, but god did he look good. He wore a new shirt, a bullet hole ripped in the last one, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The top buttons were undone, and he discarded his jacket on your chair before stepping closer.
“Y/N…” his voice was so tired you almost forgot how angry you were. Almost.
“No. Don't come to me like that after you pulled that stupid shit today, Spencer.”
“He was going to shoot you-”
“He was going to miss. You're taller than me. And if I'd stayed where I was, I would have fired off a round before he could even get one shot in. But you pushed me out of the way and almost got yourself killed instead.”
He stood with his hands on his hips in front of the bed, a scowl on his face as he struggled with words to find next.
“I won't apologize for saving your life.”
“No, you won't because you didn't save my life. You almost ended yours.”
“Y/N-”
You knelt on the bed now and grabbed his shoulders, pushing him to his knees.
“No. I'm done listening, and you're done talking. If you're not going to stop walking into near death experiences, you don't get to walk in here and fuck me.”
He sank to his knees easily, his eyes wide as you sat up on the bed in front of him. You thought of leaving him there the entire night, of kicking him out into the living room to sleep on the couch. If you hadn't been through so much that day, you'd just send him home.
But sat there on his knees, you saw a flash of desire in his eyes, big and round and needy.
His gaze flicked to your core, and you suddenly entertained different ways to punish him, to train him out of destructive behaviour.
“Handcuffs,” you said, holding out your hands for them. He passed them up, and you left the bed, restraining his hands behind his back quickly and grabbing two items from your draws.
You moved to the bed and knelt again as he looked at you with dark eyes, suddenly aware of what was happening to him.
“Y/N-”
“I didn't say you could speak,” you said as you quickly peeled off your nightdress, leaving yourself bare on the bed.
Usually, you'd feel embarrassed being naked. Even when he undressed you, you felt the urge to cover your tits, to squeeze your legs shut so he couldn't see all of you, to let him pry your hands away, to coax your legs apart.
Now, you sat confidently, spine straightening as you looked down at him.
His eyes took in your body, and he winced as if pained when you touched yourself, knowing that usually he alone had that honour.
“Y/N…”
“One more time, and you won't return to this bed for days. Do you understand?”
Learning, he nodded and sat up again to watch your fingers play with your nipples, twisting them either way as you moaned and sighed above him.
His breathing hitched as you let your hands trail lower and lower until they reached your cunt. You didn't touch yourself yet though.
“Open,” You said, leaning forward and tapping his chin. He complied, opening his mouth and you shoved two fingers inside.
“Get them nice and wet for me.”
He licked and sucked your fingers for two minutes, never breaking eye contact as his spit rolled down your hand.
“Good boy,” you said, pulling them away as you began to touch yourself. Sitting back on your ass, you rubbed your clit, rubbing his spit into your sensitive button, letting him know how good it felt, how close you were to cumming with his spit on your cunt. You plunged one finger in and then another as you watched him bite his tongue, careful not to let even a small sound slip out.
You didn't even have to glance down to know he was hard. It was in the set of his shoulders, the rapid breaths he took. It was the way he sat back on his heels, rocking back and forth to feel some goddamn friction.
You couldn't have that.
You placed your foot on his uninjured shoulder and tried to hold him in place.
“Don't fucking move,” you said, slipping a second finger inside yourself ad you picked up the pace. Your hips bucked ad you watched him watch your cunt, paying attention to every twitch you made, every moan, breath, gasp, and shudder.
“I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna- shit! Shit-”
You came with a spurt, squirting your cum across his face as he leaned closer, desperate to taste you. You grabbed his hair and forced him backwards though, grabbing the two toys beside you as you dropped down to the floor.
“You're not touching my cunt today, Spencer, not even for a taste. You're not touching anything today.”
You pulled his cock free from his pants and spat on it, not bothering to touch it properly before pushing the cock ring onto him and pressing the on button.
In a minute he was a moaning mess and you smiled at the painful pleasure disrupting his features.
“Eyes open, Spencer, you have to keep watching.”
You kept your eyes locked with his, his mouth open wide in a silent moan as he tried not to cum, desperate to hold out for you as long as he could.
You climbed back onto your bed and spread your legs again, this time accompanied by a translucent plastic cock. You teased your hole for a few seconds, grabbing Spencer's attention before pushing it in.
His eyes were stormy as he watched you fuck yourself with your old companion. You hadn't used it in a while, basically since you'd started fucking Spencer. He had rules, and one of them was that you couldn't use the dildo without his permission. He'd never given permission.
The look on his face now was worth whatever punishment he'd had out in the future, a mixture of anger and pathetic arousal, his eyes never leaving your cunt even as his own dick started spurting.
He came quickly, splashing up his shirt, ruining his pants.
You left him there like that, though, even as he winced from the overstimulation.
He didn't make a sound still, even as his dick got hard again almost immediately after deflating the first time.
“Look at what a mess you made. You're such a little pervert that you just came all over your shirt and pants. I hope you bought a spare, Spencer.”
His fight was gone as he looked at you again, only lust left as he panted and writhed beneath you.
You kept riding the dildo, burying It between pillows so you could ride it easier without needing to hold it.
He watched transfixed as his cock twitched again, vibrating still right on his balls.
“Tell me how good it feels, Spencer.’
“Hurts… Y/N, so good…. it hurts.”
You smiled down at him and kept asking him questions, knowing he'd never be able to stay quiet now.
“Do you want to cum again?”
“Fuck…yes, please, Y/N, please.”
“Do you want to cum all over yourself one more time?”
“N-No… messy, want to cum…in you.”
“What a shame, Spencer, but that isn't allowed. I won't let you cum in me if you're going to try to take a bullet in the field.”
“Y/N… p-please,” he whined, and you heard his voice break, hips thrusting up into the air now as he watched you.
“No. You're going to cum on yourself until you promise not to do it again.”
He shook his head, closing his eyes as he tried to resist cumming for a second time, so out of control. “Please-”
“You can do it. Promise me.”
“Y/N, p-please let me cum” he moaned again, his hands pulling at the restraints so he could get this infernal cock ring off of him and bury himself inside of you.
But it was too late, and his second orgssm stretched out longer than the one before.
You'd leaned in so close you'd caught a drop of cum on your face, but most of it pooled on him instead. He collapses backwards, his cum coating his stomach and chest, his shirt going translucent in places as the ring kept buzzing.
His moans were loud now, and immediately, he knew it was too much to wish for round three.
“I promise! Y/N, I promise, please fuck, I promise.”
You quickly fell to the floor, turning off the cock ring and slipping it off as you kissed him tenderly, thanking him and praising him for doing such a good job for you.
You rolled him onto his side and removed the handcuffs, immediately pulling them into your lap and massaging them, feeling a bit guilty about the red marks.
“Spencer?” You asked after a few moments when he seemed to have regained his breath and his senses.
“Mmm?”
“We should get you in bed. You need to rest.”
He nodded and weakly sat himself up, falling into bed beside you. He threw the dildo across the room and nuzzled himself into you, head buried between your breasts.
You pulled away and came back with a wash cloth, stripping his shirt and pants and cleaning the cum off him as best you could so he could sleep comfortably.
“I prefer when you do that with your mouth, you know?” He joked, and you playfully hit his leg. He couldn't still be thinking about sex after that.
But he was. As careful as you were to not overstimulate him again, his cock still rose again, and he pushed your hands away, pulling you up to him.
“I came twice, but you only did it once,” he whispered between kisses.
“It seems like we need to get even.”
With that, you knew that your turn being in charge was over, and he was the leader now.
"But only if you beg for it," you smirked, looking up at him, but he easily flipped you over, pushing you up so you were kneeling on the sheets above him again, him undernesth you.
You happily followed him as he pulled your dripping core over his mouth, and he pulled you in for one last taste, begging you for forgiveness with his tongue again and again.
#cmkinkbingo2024#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#reiderslibrary#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#spencer reid smut#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid criminal minds#dr spencer reid#sub!spencer reid#sub spencer reid#dom reader#female reader#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n
250 notes
·
View notes
Text
Face to Face (IV)
Fridolina Rolfö x reader
Summary: An attempt to make amends.
A/N: we're nearing the end!! not sure how I feel about this part... hopefully it's okay
Word Count: 3k
Warnings ⚠️: none?
PREVIOUS PART
The next few days followed in a similar manner. Alexia brought you to the pitch even though you couldn't play, and you sat there for a few hours until they were done. Occasionally Jona would come over to see you, or Olga would stop by with food. Ana Maria even drove over from Madrid to see you and take you out for the day. But mostly you slept, listened to podcasts, and thought about what the hell you were going to do about Frido.
She still hadn't spoken to you and the team was starting to notice. It's not like the two of you were very close before (at least publicly) but now it was a conscious avoidance. The rest of the girls often kept you company when they could on breaks or in between drills.
It was only after five days, on Friday afternoon, that she approached you.
“Hi…” Frido said softly.
You looked up at her from where you sat on the pitch. You had been doing light stretches on your calves, still not allowed to do anything strenuous until next week.
“Hi, Frido.” You said plainly.
You tried not to react emotionally despite the fact that this was the first time she was speaking to you since the incident. She hadn’t even called to say she was sorry. It all seemed to confirm she really didn’t give a damn about you—didn’t have the courtesy to treat you like a stranger even.
“How are you feeling?”
Her careful, soft tone enraged you.
“Not so good, actually. My head fucking hurts, I’m sick of sitting here while the rest of you play. And I’d really rather be doing anything than talking to you.”
You felt bad the second you said it. Not because she didn’t deserve it, but because this wasn’t you. You were better than that.
“Sorry, I just really would like to be left alone, Frido. Please, just leave me be. Leave me alone.”
Frido’s eyes shot towards the ground as she blinked furiously.
“Okay.”
She turned away and walked back to the field, joining Alexia and Ingrid as they talked about something. Part of you felt bad for rejecting her so quickly, but another part of you felt enraged that she had the nerve to wait this long.
Ingrid looked over at you and then back at Frido curiously.
"What did you want to say to her?" She asked in Norwegian, knowing Frido would understand.
"I don't know… just wanted to check in on how she's doing so far."
Before Ingrid could reply again, Alexia butted in.
"You need to tell her you're sorry as soon as possible."
"I just tried—clearly she isn't too keen on having me around, is she?" Frido snapped back.
The three of them stood in shock for a second, surprised at Frido’s temper. Usually she was level headed and understanding.
Alexia sighed and clapped her on the shoulder.
"Keep trying."
With that she was off to change and shower, giving Ingrid a small smile as she left.
"Frido," Ingrid rubbed her arm to catch her attention. "Why don't we go get a drink tonight and catch up? It's been a long time since we went out, just us."
Frido contemplated it momentarily, not stupid enough to miss that Ingrid clearly wanted to talk about her mood. If she accepted, she was also accepting the fact that she had to open up to her best friend sooner or later.
"All right."
-
"I don't know what to do," Frido complained, tossing back the last dregs of her beer.
Ingrid sat across from her, her own beer nearly untouched. They were sat out on the balcony of some restaurant nursing the end of the night. They hadn't met, just the two of them, in a while, Frido realized. She wished it was under better circumstances.
"Can I be honest?" Ingrid asked.
Frido nodded. She expected no less from the Norwegian—though she was incredibly kind, it wasn't common for them to sugar coat things.
"You've got to go up to her and apologize. Sincerely. One on one. And you can't be sure she's going to forgive you."
Frido knew Ingrid was talking about apologizing for more than the tackle. She wasn't privy to exactly what happened between the two of you—even in your anger you hadn't told your teammates what was going on—but it was clear something unhealthy had been a staple between the two of you.
"Mapí showed me the video. I didn't want to see it at first, you know how I am with that stuff, so worried always that it'll be one of us. But I finally saw it." Ingrid met her eyes. "The way she went down, the way you hit her, she could've been hurt much worse than she is. And you just got up and left, didn't even check on her."
There was a hint of disdain in Ingrid’s voice that inspired nausea in Frido.
"Had that been any player in a match against Barcelona, imagine how any one of us would've reacted."
Frido knew, if she had seen someone do to you what she had done herself, it would've boiled her blood. To see you lying there unmoving, would've had any player on that field aching, because you were wonderful. You didn't cause fights, you forgave people, you smiled at the opposition after each game, you spent as much time as possible with the fans. And Frido had somehow broken that, gotten you to yell and scream and cry.
"We were together." She whispered, not meeting Ingrid’s eyes. "Well, not really. We were sleeping together, I was at her place most days a week."
The waitress came by, and Frido ordered a glass of wine. She needed a bit more courage to fully get this out in the open.
"I didn't want commitment. I'm not… I didn't know how to be open about that with anyone. I was ashamed of it—she knew. She could sense it." Frido gripped the stem of her wine glass and took a sip. "She hated breaks because she knew I wouldn't talk to her until I was back in Barcelona. Right before I went back to Sweden for camp… we had a huge fight. She said she couldn't take it anymore, that I made her feel like a whore, that I tossed her aside whenever I didn't want her. And I said I didn't care."
Ingrid was silent.
"I didn't expect her to kick me out. Or to refuse to speak to me. I thought we'd fall back together, we always did. But it was different this time. And I hated it. I hated it so much it made my head spin."
Ingrid put a hand over Frido’s where it rested on the table.
"Frido, I love you. You're my best friend, okay?"
Frido nodded, wiping at a tear that was beginning to fall.
"You've got to make this right. Good people do shitty things. Really shitty things sometimes. But sometimes they're also forgiven, in time. And if you want anything with her, even friendship, you've got to apologize and explain yourself."
Frido nodded, meeting Ingrid’s eyes finally.
-
That night Frido found it difficult to get to sleep.
There wasn't any good reason for it: she had worked hard in practice all day and her body was exhausted. Her bed was comfortable, her apartment quiet. But it was empty. She had realized that she hadn't spent a week straight sleeping in her apartment for months. At least once a week she was with you, always.
But now you weren't speaking to her. You looked at her during practice, then avoided her at all costs. She hadn't even tried texting you, worried she would find her number blocked.
She contemplated calling someone to keep her company, though who would be up at one in the morning?
Eventually she fell asleep after tossing and turning for what felt like hours. She slipped away into unconsciousness, allowing her body to relax into the mattress.
Her mind, however, had different plans.
In her dreams she was in the hospital, unable to get to you. She stood at the door to your room, peering in through a small glass window. The rest of the girls were inside, holding your hand and stroking your skin as you laid in the hospital bed. Your eyes were open but you hardly moved. All she knew with certainty was that you did not want to see her. You wanted her gone. You've ruined my life, she heard you say, though your lips didn't move.
Another time you had simply disappeared. Her fault. You had moved far away, far from Barcelona, and far from her. You were happier somewhere else, with different people.
Once more you hated her. Refused to speak.
When she woke it was to a dark room and a sick feeling in her stomach. She was lonely. She wanted you next to her in bed. She wanted to see you smile and hear you laugh. She wanted to see you play great football and jump into her arms after a goal. And it terrified her to think she wouldn't get any of that again.
How was it that she could've treated you so horribly? It confused her, as if it had been someone else. How had she let her fear control her like that? And most importantly, how had she put your feelings aside so callously?
If she was going to fix anything she would need to apologize. Apologize for it all. Ingrid was right. She hadn't been there for your recovery and now it was all she wanted. The guilt of it all threatened to choke her. She thought of how scared you must've been lying on the field in pain.
Though it was only 4:30 in the morning Frido got out of bed and went to the bathroom to start a scalding hot shower. She needed a plan for how to fix things between you two.
-
It began that morning. Alexia brought you to practice. You were still living with her for the time being, until you were one hundred percent cleared. You didn't mind it, in fact it was nice to get so much time with Alexia when she was normally busy.
You walked into the locker room, so pleased to be getting into your kit for the first time in a week and a half. Even if it was just for physio work, at least you were in the uniform once more.
Unexpectedly, sitting in your locker was a small stuffed cow with a card and one of your favorite protein bars propped against it. You picked up the plushie, pressing it to your face and enjoying the softness. You were a bit of a child when it came to stuffed animals: you loved them.
The card was written in very familiar handwriting, and your heart jumped into your throat.
This made me think of you. I'd really like to apologize after practice today. Perhaps we can grab a coffee?
- Fridolina
The message was a bit stilted, but you could practically hear Frido’s hesitation on the page. She was nervous.
Just then the blonde came into the locker room to grab something from her bag. She glanced at you quickly, not sure as to your reaction.
"Frido," you called softly. You hadn't decided until that moment to try and forgive her, "I'll see you after practice."
Frido seemed shocked, but quickly her mouth transformed into a wide smile.
Practice seemed to fly by now that you were allowed to do something. The physio workers had you weight training and doing yoga to try and work your muscles that were tight from the pain you had been in. You felt like you were making progress, finally, after more than a week of sitting around.
-
The car ride with Frido was quiet. You sat in the front seat, fiddling with your fingers and checking your phone as she drove. She had music playing softly, some indie band you didn't know. It was bordering on awkward, though not quite there. You simply didn't know what to say.
Once Frido was pulling off the street to parallel park you spoke.
"I don't think I've been here before."
"I just found it a little while ago when I was wandering around desperately in need of some coffee."
The shop was cute. The outside was painted in chipping yellow paint and the shutters were open. There were a few tables outside, an eclectic set of guests seated at them. There was an old man reading the paper, a student on her laptop, and a mother with her baby. The smell of baked goods wafted from the entrance.
"The muffins are fantastic, if you want one." Frido offered cautiously.
You nodded and gestured for her to enter first.
You decided on a chai and a cinnamon muffin which did look incredible, you had to admit. When you were about to pull out your card to pay you felt a hand on your arm.
"I'll pay, please."
You allowed it, understanding that this was all part of Frido trying to ask for forgiveness. You were willing to see this to the end. It shamed you to admit but you had missed her deeply. It felt good to be near her, to smell her perfume and anticipate her ticks that you knew so well. What made you stay was the possibility that she had missed you too.
Frido carried your drinks and food to the table you picked. It was still warm enough to sit outside even with the sun setting. You tapped your foot and ate your muffin slowly, waiting on her to say something. You didn't want to speak first, but it seemed as though you might have to.
"So…" you started, trailing off to try and prompt Frido.
"I wanted to apologize. Really apologize."
You sat quietly.
"Just for the concussion you gave me?"
Frido hesitated.
"I'm still figuring things out—it's all jumbled up in my head. I was talking to Ingrid the other day and she made me realize I had to set things straight."
"What exactly does that mean?"
"I'm not explaining this well—I wanted to apologize for hurting you. And I want us to be on better terms. I wish we could start over."
"That's it?"
Your chest squeezed painfully. You thought this was the chance you had to deal with the horrible ending to your relationship, but Frido seemed to have no interest in unpacking it. You couldn't help the way your anger flared in response to the hurt you felt.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm not exactly okay, Frido." You started to stand up. "I think it's better if I left. There's no hard feelings over the concussion, I knew it was an accident. Let's just forget about all of it."
Frido stood up quickly, reaching out to grab your elbow.
"Can I drive you back?"
You shook your head.
"I'd really rather walk. It isn't far to Alexia's."
Frido looked for a second like she would push further, but then she deflated and nodded.
"See you at practice, Frido. Thank you for the coffee."
-
You couldn't help the tears that fell down your face as you walked down the streets of Barcelona. Deciding to forget the whole thing was worse than being angry about it—at least then you got some acknowledgment. Now you felt as though Frido was telling you she just wanted to smooth things over and make nice. She wanted it to be as if this thing between you never existed—all the pain and attraction gone in one fell swoop. You wanted to scream.
How were you meant to play with someone who you had so much conflict with? Surely Alexia or Jona would begin to notice sooner or later. You knew it would affect the team chemistry. The thought just made you more upset.
The tears in your eyes began to fall faster. Not only was your relationship (whatever messy bleeding thing it had been) ruined, but there was a potential for it to impact your job, your team too. What would you do then? If it came down to you or Frido you couldn't imagine Barça picking you.
Alexia noticed you were crying the second she saw you, even though you tried to hide it.
"What's wrong?" She fretted, pulling you close to her. "What happened? I thought you were with Frido this afternoon? Why did she not drop you off?"
You just shook your head, burying it in your captain's sweater. She wrapped her arms around you, quietly shushing you.
"Come, let's sit down."
You felt like a child being led to the couch and leaning in Alexia's embrace. Deep breaths eventually calmed you down so you could speak.
"I'm sorry Ale, I shouldn't be coming here like this."
Alexia shook her head.
"Nonsense. Tell me what happened. Was it Fridolina?"
"It's my own fault, I let it get like this."
"Let what get like this? The accident?"
You shook your head.
"Not the accident. Frido and I have a…we have our difficulties."
Alexia looked at you, surprised.
"Really?"
"I don't think I can tell you…you're her captain I don't want to let it affect the team."
Alexia took your hand.
"I can separate work and personal life. I'm your friend too, and it seems like you need one."
"We were seeing each other, kind of. In secret." You sighed. "We weren't exclusive, she just wanted some fun I think. I didn't."
You felt defeated. There wasn't much more to do. You just had to accept your fate.
Alexia looked at you for a moment in disbelief. She had had no idea.
"You and Frido?"
"It was a mistake."
#woso fanfics#woso x reader#my writing#woso community#woso#barca femini x reader#woso imagine#fridolina rolfö x reader#fridolina rolfo x reader
359 notes
·
View notes
Text
a/n: just leaving it here
How does it feel?
warnings: smut, porn with no plot. Law "teaching" F!Reader how to have orgasms. without many warnings to avoid spoilers.
Law x F!Reader
Comments, reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.
MDNI | MINOR DO NOT INTERACT
Law found it funny how escalating a conversation between his friends - coincidentally also his crewmates - could escalate.
It had started with each person commenting something about the most recent island they had visited, the chat continued until the topic became about Shachi having met a woman, staying with her and she said that she had had the best night of her life and then she charged him for the services. Finally, the subject that had left him uneasy: orgasms.
His uneasiness was directed at you and how you claimed you had never had one. That your previous companions didn't seem too concerned about it and you had never been able to get close to the height of your pleasure not even by yourself. You and Law were nothing more than a few stolen kisses when you were both high or when a certain need struck. You had never gone beyond that, you had never assumed anything either. But Law couldn't get it out of his head.
That was when he convinced you to accompany him to the bedroom and as soon as the door closed behind you, he took your lips in a kiss that, no matter how much you both denied it, was full of feeling on both sides.
"Can I help you with that?" he asked and saw you looked lost. "With the orgasm thing."
"Oh." was the only thing that seemed to come out of your lips. Your mind was going haywire with the information.
"I'll understand if you don't want to. I mean, it's a strange request, isn't it?" Law almost let his nervousness get the better of him. "I just want to make you feel good and I don't intend on actually reaching the end and..."
"Please." the request didn't seem clear to him, so you insisted. "Please give me an orgasm."
A growl escaped Law's lips and he had to control himself. The focus was on you and only your pleasure that night. After you discovered what it was like to actually get there, he would let you choose whether you wanted to continue feeling that way with him.
"Take off your uniform." Law took a few steps back and sat down on the bed.
He watched you take off your outfit and remain in just a thin blouse and panties. A sight that pleased him enough. He leaned against the headboard and tapped the padded spot in front of him and you promptly complied, sitting up and letting his arms wrap around you.
"What do you plan captain?" you turned your face so you could face him.
"First, no captain here." he pointed out. "I plan to teach you how to get there. And then you can do it yourself or teach your future partners." the idea sounded bitter on his lips, but he didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation.
"So where do we start?"
"This way."
He gently held your face and started kissing you. Calmly, he felt you snuggle even closer to him. Almost like an authorization for him to sink deeper into your mouth.
While his tongue massaged yours, eliciting small murmurs that vibrated between you, one of his hands kept you trapped in the kiss, cupping your face. The other walked around your body, running down the sides of your skin, down your thighs. You squeezed your legs, trying to find some relief from the heat that was starting to accumulate there.
"A kiss is a good way to start." He pulled away just enough to comment, returning to your lips for a few more seconds. "When it's about you, a kiss is a good thing for any occasion."
"Don't say things like that." you moved away from his lips almost definitively, your head lolling just enough to rest against his chest.
The sight - almost as sinful as his own thoughts - was something to behold. You were there waiting for him to start showing you what pleasure was. One of his hands continued to trace some incoherent patterns on your skin, while the other wandered over your hardened nipple.
"Women are a little different from men in this regard." now avoiding touching your nipple through the thin fabric of the shirt, he just circled the areola. "Some are extremely sensitive at this point, others not so much, for some it also depends on the period of the cycle."
This time, he suddenly ran his thumb firmly over your nipple, your back letting you touch his chest for a brief moment, just to seek more contact.
"I see you fit into the first group."
"And what does that mean?" the question sounded innocent and silly, but it was difficult to think with Law so close to you, where you needed him.
Both of his hands came up enough to remove the straps of your blouse and expose your breasts.
"It means I can have some fun with them." he need to focus this was about you and not him. "So fucking beautiful."
His fingers gently slid over the two highlighted points. First he caressed your nipples gently, testing to see how much more you might want. Seeing you tighten your thighs even more and move a little in search of friction, Law captured both nipples between his fingers, eliciting an intense gasp from you.
Since the position didn't allow him to taste it directly on his lips, he at least tried to simulate the sensation for you. The hands that were previously on your nipples briefly went to his mouth and were bathed in saliva. In a calculated movement, Law placed his wet fingers back on your nipples just as his mouth closed on your neck in a wet kiss. A no longer so shy moan escaped you and made his dick twitch inside the pants he was wearing.
"Law, this...this feels good." your body arched against his fingers.
"I bet I could make you cum with just that." his lips untied themselves from you only to speak softly in your ear. "But I can, I will do this next time."
His hands allowed themselves to slide down your body again, now exciting a more breathless version of you. Law took his hands to your bare thighs and after caressing them, he gently opened them, placing them on top of his legs. Even though you were still covered by your panties, you felt exposed.
"Most women don't like to get straight to the point. Teasing can help make things more interesting." His hands ran up your inner thighs, raising goosebumps.
"I don't think provoking is the best option." you tried to sound firm, but your voice came out more breathless than you expected.
"This tells me otherwise." without hesitation, two firm fingers pressed your damp panties. "This pretty pussy is so wet just from me teasing you a little."
"Please Law." you tried to move against his fingers, which were now sliding along the sides of your intimacy.
"Did you know that the labia majora also have nerve endings?" he pointed out, ignoring your plea and letting his fingers slide. "Some stimulus can help."
His movement stopped for a brief moment, so brief that you were unable to ask why he had stopped or to contain your moan when you felt him touch through your panties where you needed it most.
"But they're not as sensitive as this one." Law started to make small circles over where your clit was. When he looked at your face, he could see that you had brought both hands to cover your mouth, your nails digging into your own cheek. "Room. Silence." he saw your eyes look around briefly. "Just let me hear you, please."
As soon as the blue dome formed around you, Law deftly removed your hands from your lips and covered them with his own mouth. His tongue invaded your mouth shamelessly while his movements over the damp fabric of your panties became a little faster. Your hands tried to hold on to him as best you could and even with him kissing you so voraciously, your moans still found space to remain there against his lips. Again, he stopped his movements and moved away from your lips just enough to find your attentive eyes, dilated pupils and reddened lips.
"I'll buy you another one. As many as you want."
Instead of explaining why, you just felt his two hands force the fabric of your panties and it split into some pieces.
The touch of his fingers directly against your little bud could be enough for Law to have his own orgasm there. More exciting than that was just seeing your eyes closing in front of his, a loud moan escaping your lips at such a short distance from him. Heavens, that was a little bit of paradise he thought he'd never taste.
"I need more Law, more please." you turned to him again, but one of your hands remained tied to the back of his neck. "It feels so good, so fucking good."
"Fuck" he murmured against the skin of your neck as his fingers slid easily to your entrance. The warm wetness against his fingers left him on the verge of irrationality. Gently, he slowly penetrated you with his middle finger, your fingers against the back of his neck held tight to Law's dark strands of hair. "That's a good girl, I can feel you squeeze me. Is that what you wanted?"
"D-Don't stop Law, please." you involuntarily moved your hips against the back and forth of his finger, searching for more and more.
"I won't stop, babe, I won't." Law removed his entire finger and added his ring finger, slowly penetrating them again. The way you moved your hips against his fingers - and against his cock behind you - indicated that you wouldn't last long. "You're taking me so good, pussy so fucking tight."
“Law, I just…” as soon as his fingers pressed against your g-spot, a sharp scream left you. A knot beginning to tighten and burn inside you. "Fuck, that's it. I c-can feel something, I think… Law, please."
Seeing you start to lose control of your hips and tighten even more inside your pussy, Law knew he needed little for you to get there - and to be quite honest, he was about to reach an untouched orgasm himself.
"Stop holding back." His voice came out as a whisper at the edge of your ear, using the palm of his hand to stimulate your clitoris, your increasingly intense moans were a melody for him. "I can feel you squeezing me, begging for more. Come on, give it to me, let me feel you come. Just for me, okay? You're going to do this just for me."
"Law!" With one last moan from you, Law could feel you squeeze him hard and the fingers inside you become drenched as your body softened against his arms.
Giving a few more gentle caresses against your intimacy, Law took his hand away from you and had to dare the urge to put his fingers to his own lips. He would have the chance to taste you and when he does, he will taste it straight from the source itself.
Seeing your tired form nestled against his chest, Law let the caresses against your body be softer and without any trace of malice, just as his lips placed some chaste kisses on the top of your head.
"Thanks for trusting me." You smiled at his thanks, taking one of his hands and placing a small kiss on it. "So... how does it feel?"
"It felt so good, I've never felt that before." you adjusted yourself just enough to meet his lips. "Yes, it was great." "I'm sorry for not making it up to you." you pointed out and saw a light laugh escape his lips. "What?"
"I feel like a teenager, but..." his gaze directed yours to the wet spot on his light pants. "Feeling you and hearing you was a little too much for me."
You both laughed for a brief moment, enjoying the little bubble of affection that seemed to be surrounding you.
"Law?" his murmur indicated that he was paying attention. "You must be pretty experienced, right? To know all this."
"Not so much." his fingers intertwined with yours. "Part of it I know because I'm a doctor, so it's easier to know how bodies work. And part of it is because I've seen it in some books."
You just nodded and snuggled into him, his fingers were distracted playing with yours. This time, just like you had done, he called your name and you just mumbled back.
"What I said before." it was strange, but Law felt a little shy about bringing the subject on board. "I take back what I said. I wanted this – what you felt today – to happen just to me and not to other partners."
"It's okay. I also want you to be the one to do this to me."
#fiction#reader insert#one piece#no use of y/n#requests open#trafalgar d law x reader#law x reader#law x you#trafalgar law x reader#trafalgar law
155 notes
·
View notes
Text
if you're in the shifting community and haven't fully shifted yet, READ THIS ‼️‼️‼️‼️
I have been in the shifting community ever since 2019/2020. I already gave up, felt sad and unmotivated, felt as if I would never be able to do it, and BOY. If me from the past simply gave up I would NEVER forgive myself.
I would never forgive myself for denying the feeling of finally shifting and seeing people I've always dreamed of seeing, I would never forgive myself for believing shit that anti-shifters say, I would never forgive myself if my bad thoughts took over, I would never forgive myself if I denied the reason that keeps me alive till this day, I WOULD NEVER FORGIVE MYSELF IF I DID NOT SHIFT.
Believe me when I say that the worst thing a shifter can do is give up. You are already blessed for being able to access public information of shifting between MILLIONS of years with humanity not having a clue of what's going on
Life here is wwwaaayyyyyy too short and boring to live in only one reality. Life without shifting is the most difficult thing ever, but life with shifting is basically living in baby mode because you can do and create LITERALLY whatever you want in less than a second. Don't. Give. Up.
One basic thing that every shifter needs to know is that every journey is their own.
Some done it X way and it worked, but it didn't work for Y person, and that's okay!
X person did it Y way, but it didn't work for me, because I don't feel comfortable/like to do it Y way, and that's okay!
9283387272278383 people did it X way and it worked for them, but not for me because I don't like do shift that way, and that's okay!!!
It genuinely hurts to see shifters give up because they haven't found their way of shifting. Every person is their own, and don't give up by something stupid as trying to shift in ways that don't make you comfortable!
I used to try to shift every single day, because shiftok told me that, the more times I tried, more chances I had to shift. And I'm someone who gets mentally tired and stressed really easily, so trying everyday exhaustively made me unmotivated and sad, but for some people, doing so gives them motivation, and that's okay!!!
Trying to shift in the exact way that makes me happy and motivated, as "weird" as it may be, made me shift first try after 4 years.
Don't treat shifting like a house chore, treat it like something fun and cool, which is how it actually is but some people fail to see it
Something my friend said that describes how my shifting journey ended after I shifted is "just have fun and daydream until you wake up besides (insert comfort character), I mean, it's all fun and games. it literally is"
Putting shifting on a pedestal and seeing it as something "impossible" to achieve is what's making some people to not shift. not saying you need to be bouncing off the walls 1000% of the time, but thinking negatively and making things more difficult as they are is basically digging your own grave
If you can't stop having negative thoughts, take a break. Stay away from shifting content until you feel okay again. Take things easy
One last thing: if you dare to be unmotivated or GIVE UP even, expect 10 heavily armed men in front of your house tomorrow 9am. YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO RIGHT OF CHOICE, YOU ARE SHIFTING ONE WAY OR ANOTHER‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️
Literally me when you shift:
#♡ ⋆｡≀✧. * shifting advice ꒷꒦*.+ ♡#do not give up on shifting!!!!! i believe in you!#shifting#reality shifting#shifting community#shifters#shifting blog#reality shift#desired reality#shifting antis dni#reality shifter#shifting motivation#shiftblr#shiftinconsciousness#shifting realities#subliminal#subliminals
157 notes
·
View notes
Text
Channie 🥺
Sleeping with your boyfriend was one of the hardest things to do. Why?
Because that manic workaholic rarely ever slept. And if he found himself in the comfort of his big comfortable bed with you in it, sleep was off the table.
Your relationship was still fresh, the lingering hormones all in the air.
But sometimes when the exhaustion of everyday life took over, you found yourself embraced in his strong arms, peacefully dozing off to sleep.
„Channie?“, you whispered quietly.
No reaction. You felt his broad chest behind you heaving up and down, accompanied by small snores.
„Channie?“, you asked again while wiggling your butt softly.
He let out some unrecognisable sounds and kept on sleeping.
You smiled warmly to yourself, feeling utterly protected and loved. It hasn’t always been like this, you always had wondered if a love like this would ever be possible after all.
Chan didn’t know that about you - yet.
„Channie“, you softly whispered, still engulfed in his embrace.
„I haven’t told you this before and the only reason I’m telling you now is because you’re asleep. Maybe you’ll hear me in your dreams, I don’t know but… I wanted to tell you that I have never seen this coming.“
You paused for a second, checking if he was still asleep. Only silence and Chan‘s heavy breathing filled the room.
„I am not as experienced with relationships as you are. In fact, I only was in one. And ever since all I knew was rejection. So naturally, I didn’t think you and I would work out.“
Flashbacks of all the past heartbreaks you had to endure flooded your mind and clouded your soul in sadness. At one point you gave up on men, up on love entirely. You remembered the first dates with Chan and how nerve-wrecking they were. Would he leave you? Would he break it off? Would he ghost you and vanish like the others? How much time did you still have left?
You didn’t notice him wake up as you were too engulfed in your memories, recollecting them all.
„Dating seems so easy for you but it’s not to me. I get insecure so easily. I always went crazy when you didn’t reply fast enough or sounded dry. I know that’s so stupid but that’s how I was..“, you chuckled ashamed.
Chan didn’t dare moving, he needed you to think he was still sound asleep.
„And I was terrified of opening up to you and letting you in. I was so terrified you’d break my heart like all the others. And I tried guarding my heart..“
Now Chan was the one having flashbacks, remembering all the times you acted out of line, making him wonder if you liked him at all. Up to now he didn’t understand why you acted that way.
„But I couldn’t. Something about you just made me jump into this. And this thing between us, the past months I mean. To others that doesn’t seem like a big deal but to me it does… you didn’t leave me.“
A heavy silence was hanging in the air, perfectly accentuating the boldness of your words.
„You didn’t ghost me. Or exchanged me for someone else. You stayed. You actually stayed.“
You whispered the last part, barely audible.
Chan‘s lips, delicately placed on the soft skin on your neck, startled you.
„I’m planning to stay forever, babygirl.“
Your cheeks turned red as embarrassment flooded your whole system.
„Oh my god, you heard all of that?“, you whined.
„Only the last part, baby.“
„I feel so embarrassed..“, you blurted out.
„I know“, Chan stated as he pulled you closer, tightening his grip on you.
„But that doesn’t change a single thing. I want you y/n. And I am here to stay. Forever. Get used to that, okay?“
You relaxed back into his warm embrace.
„Okay.“
#mykoreanlove#skz scenarios#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#bang chan stray kids#chan fluff#bang chan soft thoughts#skz chan scenarios#bang chan soft hours#chan soft thoughts#stray kids channie#skz channie#skz soft thoughts#skz soft hours#skz fluff#bang chan drabbles#skz chan fluff#bang chan#bang chan x female reader#bang chan x y/n#bang chan x you#skz chan x reader#chan x y/n#bang chan x reader#stray kids x you#skz x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids soft hours#stray kids soft thoughts#stray kids chan fluff
151 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
bettercraic
FEELIN' SO GOOD
l82theparty
L82theParty
himissjulie
Hi, Miss Julie!
raethedragon
There Be Dragons Here