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everlasting-snowflake · 10 days

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This is my first thing I've actually written, I might add more to it 😭

/based on his drunken intimacy memory, but more/

The two of you had just returned from the gala event, Zayne having to more or less carry you back to your place due to how you were too drunk to really think straight by yourself. He walked inside, grabbing a towel as he sat you down gently on the couch, and him sitting down next to you, facing you. All you could really do was give him a mixed expression of annoyance and a stupid happy grin. The cold, stoic Doctor Zayne that you were so used to was replaced by a soft, tender Zayne, as he opened his arms slightly for you.

"Face, closer" he speaks in a tone that's much softer compared to what he usually speaks in. You decided to take his small request literally, leaning forward so only your face was closer to him. His expression didn't change as you did this. "Your body too. Please" He spoke with a voice that made you want to melt, but it was almost like his evol was active on you as you did as he asked. You probably looked like a wreck, but right now you have to use all your thoughts to wonder if you should tease the man in front of you or just kiss him already. You gave him a playful pout, which wasn't held up for long as a smirk was breaking through your charade.

"..Zayne, do I have to be drunk for you to treat me like this?" As you spoke, he used the towel in his hand to gently smooth over your face, the fabric caressing and cleaning over any stains and the make up that by now was undoubtedly smeared on your face. But honestly you really couldn't bring yourself to care about that. He looked so focused on his task at hand, his eyes as gentle as freshly fallen snow. He couldn't help but give you a subtle smirk at your statement, shaking his head ever so slightly in amusement. "Someone thinks this is special treatment" his lips stayed in a subtle upturned curl as he carefully led the towel over the remainder of your face, not leaving anything to make a mess or anything that will make your morning hard when you awaken.

When he takes the towel away from your face, he places it beside himself, his hand moving up to your face, his index finger briefly touching the corner of your lip before he spoke again, a tinge of tease in his voice. "And you claim not to be drunk" He let his hand rest at his side, his soft, loving gaze being one that was reserved for your eyes only. It always has been one reserved for your eyes only. He kept his loving eyes on you for a few moments more before you reached towards his already loose tie, his eyes following where your hand went. You tugged on his tie, further causing it to loosen, and simultaneously pulling your doctor towards you, gently at first, before you pulled him by his tie so he was right in front of you, then so he was practically on top of you, his arms being the only things that stopped him from pressing himself onto you. He let out a small sigh, looking down at you before speaking and averting his gaze momentarily, his hand slowly moving to your hand that was still on the knot of his tie. "It appears someone has become more intoxicated" He shifted himself and, subsequently you, into a sitting up position, his hand still on yours as he gently pried your hand off of his tie. "You know, if I was as rough as you are with my patients, I would be sued for sure" His tone was one you recognised. Monotone, but it was obvious that he intended on teasing you. Before he could get your hand away from his tie, you pulled it back and away from his grasp, feigning innocence as if you didn't do anything. You gave the doctor a drunken smile as you did so.

"Oh, now you're pretending nothing happened.." he sighed slightly, looking to his side for a moment "It's a shame, I can still feel the pain from your headbutt" he spoke in his same monotone yet teasing tone, his hand ghosting over his chin to further insinuate his words. You couldn't exactly remember but you probably did headbutt him at one point tonight already. You wanted to caress his chin as an apology, but all you could do was attempt to keep your eyes on him. He raised his hand so it was at your eye level, his index finger moving across your view, from your right to your left and back to your right, like a rushed eye test.

"Hmm..You're too drunk to even see me straight" This time it was hard to tell if he was being genuine, teasing or a crude mix of the two. To prove the doctor wrong, you suddenly reached your hand to his face, grabbing his face with your thumb and index finger, your other fingers resting under his chin as you moved his head from right to left, his eyes staying in you as you did this, but his gaze leaving you slightly as you let go, but his gaze immediately returning from your face as you finished your 'observation' of his chin.

"Where does it hurt..? Or are you messing with me, Dr Zayne?" You spoke in a slightly mocking tone, speaking as he normally would whenever you were in his doctor's office. He gave you an amused look before glancing away. "Some people are bleary-eyed when they're drunk" He looked at you after another moment, deciding to indulge in you for now, teasing you slightly "Want a closer look?"

You gave him a slightly annoyed look, pouting as you gently hit his shoulder, pushing him subtly back "I didn't hurt you at all..." He made a small face at the contact, but he kept up his small act "Are you sure?"

"Hmph, you call me a trouble maker but you're the one playing mind games." Zayne gave you a small chuckle, smiling slightly as he used his thumb to gently trace over the corner of your bottom lip

"Forget about that" His smirk stayed as you faced down, pretending to be hurt by his actions. "How can you be so rough with a girl's face..." He used his hand to gently move your face up to meet his eyes again "I'll try something else"

Once your eyes met again, he said one word.

"Close"

You did as he said, closing your eyes, unable to see him.

Unable to see him lean into you.

Unable to see his lips meet yours in a soft kiss, a kiss that left as quickly as it came.

When you opened your eyes again, he leaned back so he could see your expression as you processed what he did.

"...did you just kiss me?!" was all you could say. From the ever cold Dr Zayne, this wasn't something you'd expect to happen without some kind of excuse present, but here you are. He looked extremely proud of himself, leaning against the head of the couch, his face against his relaxed fist. "Mm-hmm. I didn't trick you this time" His gaze on you as he examined your features, turning from surprised, to amused, to wanting him to do that again. And again. Forever.

You reached your hand up to his face, gently stroking your thumb delicately across his bottom lip, instinctively licking your own lips in anticipation. His soft eyes remaining on you as always, flitting in between your face and your body. He quickly sat up, startling you slightly, and reaching behind himself to grab a conveniently placed water bottle, handing it to you. His eyes glistened with nothing but a soft love and slight concern as he gently nudged the now open bottle towards your lips.

"You've drank quite a bit tonight. Make sure to drink this, you'll sober up soon" You took the bottle from his grasp before he was able to tip the contents of the bottle into your mouth. As you drank from the bottle, Zayne shifted slightly, about to get up, intending to make you both something to eat. Something that wasn't barbecue related.

Before he had the chance to, you moved to grasp onto his shirt, the motion causing the water in your hand to spill onto your dress shirt. When he looked back to question you, he saw this, the water causing your shirt to cling onto your chest and upper abdomen, encasing your figure perfectly. The sight caused him to stop with whatever he was about to say, his words hitching in his throat, his eyes seemingly glued to the view before him. But after a few more moments, he cleared his throat and shifted his eyes elsewhere, a soft crimson dusting his cheeks and ears as he tried to think of something to say to calm himself and excuse himself from for a moment.

"What d- oh..."

His eyes lingered for a moment more before again, averting his eyes.

"I'll get you a towel and some clothes, don't move-"

Before he could finish his sentence, you, again, tugged at his sleeve, this time causing him to fall forward, and if it weren't for his arms bracing his fall, he would have definitely fell entirely on top of you. The view you were met with was one that you couldn't help but giggle over: Zayne looked like he was looking down a deep canyon, his eyes looking deep into your own with a distant gaze, a mixture of caution and surprise. Your soft laughter was what broke him out of his thought-filled state.

"I know I'm tipsy Zayne, but this is my place, isn't it a little rude to go through a girls' things without her permission?"

Your tone dripped in teasing, taking pride in the expression shift from the man who was but inches from you. His lips curved up slightly, threatening a smirk at your behaviour. 'Alcohol really gave her an edge, how interesting.' He thought as his eyes shifted over features. Your hair was a mess, your makeup faintly staining your face, lipstick smeered against the corners of your lips...the now wet material of your shirt pressing against you so deliciously...

Maybe you were right, it would be rude for him to rummage through your things and leave you here like this, all alone...

His body seemed to almost move on it's own, as he lowered his body so he wasn't hovering over you like how he was, one knee resting on the couch, in between your legs, one of his arms resting on the back of the couch, wrapped loosely around your neck, playing with your hair lazily. His other hand was placed gently against your cheek, lightly stroking your face as if you were a precious sculpture that would crack at the slightest ounce of rough housing. He looked into your eyes for a few moments before he seemed to suddenly light up, like he just had the best idea he could ever have. He sat up slightly, a small smirk on his face. A tiny, mischievous glint in his eyes. Before you are able to even question him, he pulls a compact doctor's bag out of, seemingly, nowhere, putting it to the side. From it, he pulls out his... stethoscope? He holds it up like it was a fish he caught a few seconds ago.

"Dr Zayne, what possessed you to bring that to a suit and tie event..??"

"You've known me for a long enough time now, is this something you should be surprised about?"

He gave you a mixed look, one of amusement and his regular, sincere look he'd give you whenever you falsely accuse him of taking your desserts even though they were in front of him. All you could do was sigh and laugh slightly. Was he the drunk one that needed pampering or was it you?

You had to hold back a laugh, enough so that you couldn't even say what you wanted to, only pointing at the stethoscope with a shaky hand. All he did was put the stethoscope in your ears, causing your laughter to calm, overtaken by a brief confusion. He undid his tie further, so the two ends were dangling off of either end of his shoulders, undoing his top 4 buttons as well, so his chest was visible to you. He put the instrument part of the stethoscope into your hand, the part that allowed to hear heart beats facing away from your palm, before raising your hand gently to the exposed part of his chest, his hand over yours as he pressed the instrument to his chest, over where his heart would be situated. His eyes which were before on his movements, glanced up to you, a gentle yet smug look on his face. His heart was racing and yet he was able to keep his calm. He didn't even need to use the stethoscope to basically hear your heart drumming against your chest. He gave you a light chuckle, watching your face carefully, loving the subtle changes to your expression when listening to his heartbeat.

"Do you hear that? This is your doing..."

A slight dampening to the mischievous glint in his eyes was seen as his eyes remained on you.

"You mean after you had to carry poor me back here because you thought I was too drunk to get home?"

You spoke in a teasing tone once again, hoping this comment would be the knife that you could use to cut the tension that had grew within this short time span. Zayne simply smirked down at you, leaning towards you, his face close to yours, close enough that his breathe was tickling your neck and ear, gently.

"Well, that is certainly one part...but also..."

His voice was husky and quiet against your ear as he spoke, one hand slowly raising to trace his fingers lightly against the skin of your neck, before moving to glide over the wet, clingy dress shirt you still had on.

"The fact that someone had a certain nerve to...tease me like she did. The way she clearly is acting with her primary physician, and how she isn't as drunk as she first proclaimed to be."

His lips curved into a smug grin, glancing at your face, surprised at him being able to read your actions and your lies like he was reading a child's book. His hand slid down your body with gentle vigour, before lifting the wet material from around your waist, enough for his hand to just reach underneath, caressing the wet skin of your hips as he continued to speak, watching your every reaction with increased interest.

"...and the way that throughout all of this...not once...has she tried to stop me. In fact..." He leaned back slightly, enough to be able to look into your eyes as he next spoke.

"She seems to be wanting me to continue. It seems...she may not have been drunk but given my observations thus far... perhaps a full examination would be more helpful? I definitely don't need to use anything to know that your heart rate is accelerating faster than normal, and you're warmer than usual."

He slid his hand further up your shirt, resting his index and middle fingers against the bare skin of your chest, where your heart is situated, the vibrations of your speeding heart rate making itself clear to the doctor, whose face showed a mix of mischievous joy and a love struck glare that radiated from his features as he trailed his eyes over you, always retracing back to looking back into your eyes. He let his fingers stay where they were before leaning forward again, his lips only a few centimetres away from your ear.

"My dear, your resting heart rate is sitting at over 100 beats per minute...rather fast, no?" His voice was but a raspy whisper against your ear. He leaned in just a little further, grazing the skin of your earlobe with the plush of his lips, speaking again in a hushed whisper. You could practically hear the smile that he had against you as he spoke.

"Maybe this hunter has been thinking about something that has caused this effect? I wonder what she has on her mind."

He chuckled softly before gently trapping edges of your ear within his teeth, only to let it go as quickly as he did, shifting downwards to let his tongue gently trail from the edge of your jaw to your ear, where he ended the trail with a small kiss. He smiled at the red hue your skin showed.

"You seem to be gaining further symptoms as we progress in our examination, dearest. We haven't even started on anything and you've become flushed."

All you could do in response to his words was give him a half flabbergasted look, the redness in your face and stretching over your ears not helping in this situation at all. All this did was offer the doctor more confidence and more smug atmosphere to engulf him as he pulled his stethoscope out again, holding it in one hand and using his other hand to tug at your shirt gently, looking at you directly, silently asking for permission. You give him a nod before the fabric of your shirt obscures your vision. The cool dampness of the fabric brushed against your face as he pulled it over your head, the wetness trailing through your hair as he finally removed the fabric completely. You couldn't help but hunch your arms closer towards your body, less because of the cold and more because of the cold yet burning gaze that fell upon you as the doctor let his eyes wander.

Your gaze fell to your side, trying to escape the cold yet burning gaze of him as he moved the stethoscope to your neck, the cold touch welcoming to your currently burning up body.

"Your heart is still beating rather fast...maybe..." You could hear the slight smirk in his voice, and before you could look back at him for what he was planning, you felt Zayne lean towards your neck, his lips ghosting over your neck, barely kissing the skin , his breath fanning on my skin. You swore, you didn't even need to look at his face to see that he was enjoying this.

Maybe he drank in all the alcohol that was in your system, or maybe you weren't the drunk one. Either way, you were definitely in for a long night, one that you would annoy him for, him not letting you get any sleep.

#love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #writing #fanfic

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ask-the-pale-elf · 7 months

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Tav had bought some box of makeup from a little shop,they touched the wooden box it had pretty delicate carvings on the borders and it had the faint scent of honey coming from it. The materials where clearly hight quality and looked luxurious, the old woman from the shop was an expert and chose a box of items that would compliment their skin tone and eyes, her eyes glinting with happiness, she clearly took pride on her trade.

They payed the 200 gold and thanked the shopkeeper and gently put the little box into a bag and wondered back into camp, trying their best to not be seen by anyone, slightly coy at their new purchase. and after not attracting much attention to themselves they changed into the cutes tclothes they had, and started to apply the makeup. most of it wasnt so difficult and they seemed pleased with it, but when they had to add the damned potted lipstick with the brush, they felt defeated as nothing looked right, when they heard someone standing quietly in front of their tent.

"Hello? who is it?" Tav triest their best to sound composed as they take off the lipstick with a damp cloth.

(Im sorry about my english lmao, I hope I didnt mess up too much)

Despite your best efforts to hide your latest purchase, Astarion's perceptive eyes landed on the makeup box you purchased earlier. His interest piqued when you immediately rushed into your tent, it would be oh so selfish of you to keep your find all to yourself. Astarion sought to remedy that.

He leaned his arm against the supporting beam of your tent and looked in, "Darling, I can't believe you kept this from me!"

His faux shock was emphasized by his hand being dramatically placed over his dead heart, "You bought all this makeup and didn't think to invite me? Shame on you!"

After revelling in the fake scandal, he made you scooch over and his nimble fingers hovered over your new collection. Then something else catches his eye, he sees you in your adorable little outfit and your attempts at applying the lipstick, "Oh darling... I. Am. Offended! That you didn't ask me for help. I am the expert on beauty within this camp after all, so.."

He gingerly plucked the potted lipstick from your hands and examined it, "Oh it's been a few decades since I've last used this but... I know exactly how to use this to make you absolutely gorgeous."

He gently pushed you down onto your back and loomed over you, "Don't get the wrong idea, I need a better angle for this. Now close your eyes~"

As you do as he says, you hear the gentle clinking of bottles and feel gentle brush strokes against your skin. If you try to crack one eye open, Astarion scolds you by bapping your eyelid with a dry brush.

The moment he gets off of you, you hear some shuffling within the tent. The moment the shuffling stops, a familiar voice brings you back, "I do hope you're not sleeping, my dear. Open your eyes."

The moment you sit up and open your eyes, you're met with yourself. Your lips delicately painted red, as if they were kissed by a rose. Your eyes accented by black eyeliner also, deepened by eye shadow that complimented your skin. It was subtle yet head turning.

With a mirror in hand facing you, Astarion preened at his latest creation, "I think I've outdone myself, now hold your applause-"

A moment passed and you could feel his impatience emanating through the air, "Don't wait too long, I do love a little appreciation for my work."

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teaberrii · 11 months

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Chapter 5: Secrets Between Us

You've been Cupid for as long as you can remember. You've brought countless soulmates together, yet you've never found love.

When you're assigned to bring two childhood friends back together, it should be simple until you unexpectedly catch feelings for the mysterious and cold Ph.D. student, Dan Heng, the man with a soulmate… the man with answers to your past.

Dan Heng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

By the time you return to Xianzhou, it's already evening. Walking across campus, you can't stop thinking about what Himeko told you. Regardless, you've made up your mind. You aren't going to shy away, no matter what lies ahead. You've been searching for answers to your past for God knows how long; your efforts will be for nothing if you back out now.

You enter one of the science buildings, where you'll use the walkway on the second floor as a shortcut to the station. You're about to head to the elevator when you see Dan Heng sitting at one of the tables with his laptop open and papers beneath it. His hair looks more tousled than usual, and you can see his concentration starting to wane.

You come up behind him. Then, you lean forward and say, “It’s also important to take breaks.”

Dan Heng turns around, and you stand upright. “...What are you doing here?”

“...Had something I had to do." When you look at the empty seat across from him, he subtly nods for you to sit down. So, as you do, you ask, “Are you working on your research?”

Dan Heng closes his laptop. “...That’s right.” Should you ask if he remembers what happened that night you went for drinks? Then, as if reading your mind, he looks you in the eyes. “I didn’t forget about our conversation the other night.”

“Guess you weren’t as drunk as I thought.”

Then, a ghost of a smile graces his lips. “It’s still my turn.”

“...Fine.” You cross one leg over the other. Then, jokingly, “I guess I have time to humour you.”

“Oh? Is that what it is?” Dan Heng asks with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “I thought you were making time since you approached me first.”

“I think I like you better when you’re drunk.”

A slight smirk tugs at his lips. “Yet, when I was, you said you liked me better than when I was sober.” He leans slightly forward. “So, which is it, Cupid?”

"Neither," you mutter. Though your face is slightly red, unbeknownst to you.

Dan Heng leans back. “...I’d like to know about the sparkle in your eyes. What is it, exactly?”

Well, Gepard knows, so you don't see why you should hide it from Dan Heng.

"It's something that happens when I look into someone's desires." You're expecting a confused look, a question, or a sarcastic remark you're messing with him. But his slightly curious look doesn't change. "...I saw your desire to find a cure for The Withering the first day we met."

“...Assuming what you said is true, why did you do that? Look into my desires?”

"One question at a time." Dan Heng frowns slightly, which almost makes you chuckle. After a slight pause, you ask, "...What happened at the hospital?"

“...My professor told me they’ve admitted a patient diagnosed with The Withering. So, I went to see them as it would be good for my research.”

You’re expecting a little more, but when Dan Heng remains silent, you ask, "That's it?"

"Looks like you're just as impatient as I am."

“Fine.” You cross your arms. “Have it your way.” You catch that subtle smile, and you frown.

“My question is the same as before. Why are you interested in my desires?”

“...Because I had to know more about you.” When you see Dan Heng raise a brow, you quickly add, “It’s not what you think it is.”

“I’m not thinking anything.”

“Oh, really?” you deadpan.

Then, he smiles. “Your turn.”

“...Do you know this patient?”

Dan Heng exhales softly. “...I do. But, I can’t tell you who it is.”

It’s not like you really need to know who. At least this explains why he’s so down.

“It must be hard,” you say quietly. “...I’m sorry.”

“...It’s why I have to make progress. I know finding a cure is impossible at this stage. But, I have to narrow the gap.”

You think about telling him about what you can do. Will it help? You think back to when you granted a desire to save another person's life. While it happened, it didn't last long. That person eventually died by other means. Dan Heng will probably find a temporary cure if you grant his wish. But… will that really save that person in the long run?

“...Cupid.” You look up and see Dan Heng looking at you. “Something wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” Then, your tone turns flat. “Let me guess… are you going to ask why I had to know more about you?”

“Close enough. Why me and not Gepard or anyone else?”

“Because I’m here for a job.” Now, you exhale softly. “...But, I can’t tell you what it is.”

“...Only that it involves me?”

You nod. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to murder you.”

“I’d think if you were, you would’ve done so that night.”

“Weelll, I don’t know. Gepard told me you’re into Kendo.” You chuckle. “I might have to be careful of you.”

“...Are you into any sports?”

"I wouldn't call myself athletic, but… I'm not that bad, either. Who knows? Maybe I'll take up Kendo and kick your butt."

A slight smirk tugs at his lips. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Perhaps.”

“I hope you won’t regret it.”

“...Doesn't this mean you need a teacher?”

You blink once. Twice. Is he recommending someone? Or…

“I… suppose.” Then, jokingly, “Don’t tell me you’re helping the enemy.”

“...I can teach you.”

“Now I’m sure you’re out to sabotage me.”

Dan Heng crosses one leg over the other. “You admitted that you’re here because of a job that involves me. Who’s the one that should be nervous?”

“So, you’re planning on keeping an eye on me?”

You catch his small smile. “Make of it as you will.” Then, after a short pause, he asks, “...Do you have any more questions?”

It’s a stretch, but you thought you’d ask. “Do you know someone named Young?”

“No. Why?”

“...Just curious.”

“Is he someone you know?”

“...Good question,” you say quietly. “Anyway, don’t worry about it.” You take out your phone and glance at the time. “It’s getting late. Are you heading home?” When he stays silent, you frown. “Don’t tell me you’re going to stay overnight.”

“I guess Gepard’s been keeping you updated."

"...He's worried about you. When I talked to March the other day, she was also worried. And…" When Dan Heng looks you in the eyes, you look away. "...It is a little worrisome."

“Are you worried?”

“Gosh, I don’t know, Dan Heng. We’re friends, and you’ve been staying overnight at campus with… what? Just a laptop?”

“...I know of a comfortable place to sleep if that’s any reassurance.”

“You know what I mean,” you deadpan. Then, your tone relaxes. “I know you’ve been working on your research, but it’s important to take care of yourself, too.”

Then, your phone buzzes with a message.

Pom: DINNER IS READYY

And then there's a picture of a few dishes on the table… along with Pom, who has his arms spread out and looks proud of his work. Wait a minute. Who's the one taking the photo?

You see Dan Heng take out his phone. Then, he glances at you. “...Looks like Gepard’s with Pom.”

Your phone buzzes again.

Pom: Group dinner date! See if you can get Dan Heng to come over 😀

You show the message to him. “Are you really going to say no to Pom?”

Dan Heng looks at you. “...Guess I don’t have a choice.”

“Good. I don’t know how good his cooking is, so I need someone to potentially suffer with me.”

Dan Heng slips his laptop inside his bag. “Gepard isn’t enough?”

“You’d come looking for him if he went missing,” you joke as you and Dan Heng leave the school building.

“Right. The first person I’d come find is you.”

“Why me?”

“...I’d think I could get more out of you than Pom.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Dan Heng suddenly walks and stops in front of you. You almost bump into him, but then you slowly look up and see him staring at you. Then, he leans down to be on eye level with you.

“Am I?”

He's close enough that you notice a faint scar underneath his eye. But then, you meet his gaze, and you can't look away, and that's when you suddenly his eyes flash a sudden pale green…

“...You can’t be friends with their kind.”

You couldn’t see the person you were talking to, but from the deep voice, you assume it was a man.

“He’s not a bad person,” you said.

“He’s not a person,” the mysterious man spat. “He’s not one of us.”

“But—”

“...I’m doing this for your sake. If they catch you with him, they’ll kill him. Is that what you want?”

“...Hey.” Dan Heng’s calm but slightly worried voice pulls you back. You’re back to looking into his blue eyes. “...You're spacing out again.”

"Sorry. I—"

He puts a hand on your forehead, and your eyes widen slightly. "...You don't have a fever."

"I'm fine. Just fine."

Dan Heng watches you walk past him before following you toward the station. What is it about you that piques his interest? Well, there's the obvious: your mysterious job and the surprising revelation that you can see his desires. Does this mean you can peek into them at any time? Because if that's the case, maybe he needs to be more careful.

By the time you and Dan Heng arrive at the apartment, Pom and Gepard have already started eating. And, to your surprise, there haven’t been any casualties.

"It's really not that bad," Gepard says as you sit next to Pom, and Dan Heng sits across from you.

“Did you two bump into each other or…? How'd you end up at our place?" you ask Gepard.

"We don't have that kind of fate like you and Dan Heng," Pom jokes, and you give him a deadpan look. Before you got on the train, you'd told Pom that you met Dan Heng at campus and you're on your way back.

“Pom wasn’t sure if you’d make it in time for dinner,” Gepard says.

“Oh,” you say, looking at Pom. “You just didn’t want to be alone.”

“Well, I didn’t know if Himeko would keep you! Or if Nanook—”

Your cautious look instantly makes him stop. But you and Pom are already aware of Dan Heng and Gepard’s stares at you.

“Are they friends of yours?” Gepard asks.

You and Pom face forward, and you grab some vegetables for your plate. “Sort… of,” Pom says. Then, he clears his throat. “Nanook’s been chasing after her for ages.”

You almost choke on your water. “That’s not true.”

“Nanook… An interesting name,” Gepard says. Then, he chuckles. “This guy must really like you."

You frown. “Trust me. That’s not the case.”

“So, you aren’t seeing anyone then.”

Everyone turns to Dan Heng.

“...No,” you answer.

Then, Pom curiously looks at Gepard and Dan Heng. “What about you two, hm? You two grew up with March and Stelle, right?”

"Don't tell me you think something is going on?" Gepard asks.

“Well, both of them are so pretty!” Pom admits. “I only met them recently… but they’re also quite nice.”

“You met Stelle?”

So, Pom tells him about his chance to work as a security guard at Stelle's fan meet.

“We’re friends,” Dan Heng says. “That’s it.”

"...Here's a question," you say. "Do you believe in soulmates?"

"Why do you ask?" Gepard asks.

You shrug. "Just... something to talk about."

“Well, I don’t,” Gepard says. “It’s a nice fantasy, I suppose.”

“I don’t either,” Dan Heng adds. Then, he looks at you. “...Do you?”

If you aren't who you are, you wouldn't believe in soulmates either. But your job is to bring people destined to be with each other together. You'd questioned your role at first. If people are meant to be with each other, wouldn't they eventually meet? But, apparently, that's not the case, according to Himeko, at least. Still, it's not like you stuck around to see how those relationships turned out. Once they're together, you have no reason to stick around.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly.

"...Your nickname is Cupid, and you don't believe in soulmates?"

“My nickname has nothing to do with that,” you say flatly.

Dan Heng puts his chopsticks down. “Why do people call you Cupid?”

"You'll be going over your limit of twenty questions at this rate."

"...It doesn't have to stop at twenty."

Pom looks from Dan Heng to you and back to you. "Should I answer this one for you, Cupid?” You glance at Pom. “It’s because she’s a matchmaker!”

“Oh? Have you matched people before?” Gepard asks. Then, jokingly, “What’s the success rate?”

“100%!”

Gepard looks at you, impressed. “Wow.” Then, he chuckles. “March has been wanting to get back out there. Maybe she should come to see you.”

“...What about Stelle?” you ask.

“I don’t think she’s seeing anyone,” Gepard says. Then, he nudges Dan Heng. “Do you?”

“I don’t know,” Dan Heng says. “...I haven’t talked to her for a while now.”

After dinner, Dan Heng and Gepard offer to help you and Pom clean up. You’re in the kitchen doing the dishes when Dan Heng brings in two more dirty plates. You thought he’d put them on the side and leave, but instead, he puts them in the sink and gently nudges you aside.

“...It’s important to take breaks.” When he looks at you, both of you smile slightly. You’re drying your hands on a towel when Dan Heng says, “...What I told you today… could you keep it a secret?”

Keep what a secret? That’s when it hits you. “You mean… about you knowing the patient at the hospital?”

Dan Heng nods. “...He’s also someone my friends know.”

The thought hits you again. Should you tell him about what you can do? In the end, you say, "...Of course, I'll keep your secret. But in return, there's something I'd like you to do for me."

Dan Heng puts the clean dishes on a rack and turns off the tap. Then, he turns to face you. “I’m listening.”

“You know I’m here because of you. Could you keep that information to yourself? The fewer people know, the better.”

A ghost of a smirk graces his lips. “I see. It’s so no one will suspect you when I disappear.”

“Very funny,” you deadpan. “That’s not going to happen.”

“...When will I find out what you’re here for?”

When you get with Stelle. But instead, you say, “You’ll know.”

“Still going to keep me in the dark, huh?”

“Of course. It wouldn’t be fun otherwise."

“What happens after it’s done?” The question takes you off guard. “...Are you going to leave?”

“That’s usually what happens.” You’re looking away from him now.

“...Would you make an exception?”

The question almost instantly makes you turn back. Eventually, you look at him. "Why do you ask?”

“...I like talking with you.”

You hold his stare."Blunt as always, aren't you?" Dan Heng awkwardly looks away as you say, "Well, I surprisingly enjoy your company, so… I'll think about it."

Dan Heng looks back and sees you smiling mischievously. “...You’re playing with me.”

You laugh. “Aw, come on. It’s better than a no, right?”

Dan Heng leans slightly toward you, so you don’t see his face when he says in a lowered voice, “I’ll turn that into a definite yes.”

“Whatcha talking about in here?”

Dan Heng turns around, and you look past him and see Pom and Gepard at the kitchen doorway with a smile.

“Your face is red,” Pom says.

Everyone turns to you, and you put a hand on your cheek. “No, it’s not.”

Pom smiles. Is he just toying with you, or is your face really red?

“Is there something we weren’t supposed to see?” Gepard asks, and he and Pom smile at each other.

“Or hear?” Pom adds.

Dan Heng walks to the door and looks at Gepard. “We should leave.”

“Already?”

“It’s almost nine,” Dan Heng deadpans.

“Well, we’ll see each other again soon,” Pom says with a little smirk.

“Oh, right. Tomorrow’s the festival,” Gepard says.

“If you’re not busy, why not join us?” Everyone turns to you.

“You know, she’s right! Pom adds. “I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

You give him a deadpan look just as Gepard asks, “Would you mind, Dan Heng?”

“Why would I?”

Gepard chuckles.” Oh, I don’t know…”

You and Pom see Gepard and Dan Heng off at the door. Then, as soon as Pom closes it, he spins around.

“You and Dan Heng are getting along really well. Maybe a little too well.”

“We had a few conversations,” you say, sitting on the couch. “It’s not a big deal.” Then, you sigh. “I… had another vision today.”

Pom sits across from you. “Was it Young?”

“...I don’t know. It was of a man, and I couldn’t see his face. He was telling me I couldn’t be friends with their kind… because they’d kill him. He didn't say who he was referring to."

But you have a hunch.

Pom’s eyes widen. “Kill him? That’s… extreme.”

“...I'm sure he was talking about Young."

“Let me guess… This vision happened when you were talking with Dan Heng?”

You nod. "At campus today.”

“Did Himeko say anything?”

“Only that Young isn’t around anymore. And…”

“And?”

"...I may not like the answers I want to hear."

“...Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all.” Pom sighs. “...Did you ask Dan Heng about him?”

“He said he doesn’t know who that is.”

Pom leans forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands intertwined with each other. “Here’s a thought… what if Dan Heng is a reincarnation of Young? And… maybe you two are destined to meet!”

“...Why does it sound like he’s—”

“Your soulmate?” Pom interrupts almost too happily.

But, that’s impossible… Right?

◆◆◆

"Do you know someone named Young?"

Dan Heng has been thinking about that question since he started showering. Who's Young? Are you looking for him? If so, what does he have to do with him? Once Dan Heng enters his room, dressed in PJs, and with a towel in his damp hair, he hears his phone buzz.

Stelle: Hey. Miss me? 🙂

Dan Heng sits on his bed. Stelle must be worried… or maybe he wants to ask him if he knows what’s happening with her brother. Whatever it is, she must want someone to talk to.

He types a quick reply, but Stelle’s reply is almost quicker.

Stelle: Can we talk?

“How’ve you been?” Stelle asks as soon as she picks up the call.

Could be better. But instead, Dan Heng asks, "Is everything okay?"

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Stelle asks with a small smile. “I can’t call to check up on you?”

“...Well, I’m fine.”

“That’s it? Nothing else? We haven’t spoken in almost a year!”

“My life isn’t as exciting as yours,” Dan Heng says. “I saw the trailer for your upcoming movie… It looks good.”

Stelle chuckles. “You’ll watch it, won’t you? You and Gepard?”

“...We will.”

A small pause.

“Truth is… I called you to ask about my brother. You haven’t talked to him?”

Despite knowing everything, Dan Heng still asks, “...Did something happen?”

“Well, he told me that he’s going to study abroad. Next thing I know, he already left.”

“You’re still in touch with him?”

"Yeah. He doesn't respond very often… but I know he's okay."

Dan Heng feels his chest tighten. “...That’s good.”

“He didn’t tell you anything? I mean… I don’t even know where he went!”

“I don’t. But we’ve been in touch.”

Stelle sighs. “What about Gepard?”

“I think he knows as much as us.”

"...I see." Then, she smiles slightly. "Hey, do you know someone named Pom? He said he knew you two."

After talking briefly about Pom, Dan Heng eventually talks about you and how you're his upstairs neighbour.

“A new friend, huh?” Stelle asks. “She must be something if you two manage to become friends.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know you too well, Dan Heng. Since when do you find time to make new friends?" Stelle smiles. “Are you interested in her?”

“...That’s—”

“You hesitated!”

“I didn’t. I—”

Stelle gasps. “You have to introduce her to me now.”

Well, it can’t hurt, right? Dan Heng hopes it'll take her mind off of Caelus, at least.

◆◆◆

“...Can I touch it?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“But—”

"Are all humans this stubborn? Or, is it just you?" Young asked, turning to you with a deadpan look.

“Just one stroke.”

Suddenly, Young stopped and appeared in front of you, and you almost walk into him if he didn’t suddenly grab your wrist.

“...Watch what you say.”

You sighed just as he released you. “Okay, fine. Sorry. I’m just curious,” you said, looking at the horns on your friend’s head. “I thought we’ve known each other long enough that it wouldn’t be awkward.”

“It’s only been three years,” he said, turning around and continuing the trek.

“Only three years? It’s been three years! I guess you still don’t see me as an important friend.”

Young stopped and turned around. “...Really? You aren't important to me? Then, why am I risking my life to be with you right now?”

"Maybe it's 'cause I saved yours that day. If it weren't for me, you would've been poisoned to death."

“I returned the favour. I didn’t let you get caught.”

Young held your stare for a moment before turning around again.

With a small smile, you quickly walked up and nudged him. “One stroke.”

“No.”

Your eyes open, and you sit up in your bed. Another dream. Another puzzle piece. Another question. When you close your eyes, you immediately see Young… and then Dan Heng. You check your phone. Well, it’s only a few more hours before you see Dan Heng for the festival. You roll over and close your eyes. Yet, all you can see is him, and you wake up in frustration.

Why does it seem like it's only a matter of time before this drives you mad?

Chapter 6

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @tanspostsblog @theprinceofkhaos @nqctre @lunavixia

#dan heng #dan heng x you #dan heng x reader #dan heng x y/n #honkai star rail #honkai star rail dan heng #honkai dan heng #danheng x y/n #danheng x you #danheng fluff #dan heng fluff #danheng x reader

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biscuitblinkeu · 1 year

Text

I’ll Make You Feel Like Heaven, [5]

Park Chaeyoung x Fem!reader

Warning: Suggestive

Word Count: 1644

I absolutely had to use this gif. This chapter, not proud of it but I have to write up to the title, bring on the drama. 🥁

……………………………………………………………………………

The fact that Rosé wants you— is something you're not even able to consider properly with your clothed core grinding against Rosé’s bare thigh.

“Fuck, darling. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You hear Rosé’s words coming in short gasps. It turns you on even further. Everything feels so nice, so damn right that you can’t bring herself to care anymore. When Roseanne tongues the sensitive marks on your throat, you clench hard.

“Such a good girl.”

You feel her tongue deep inside your mouth before you realize that you're moving. You mewl against her mouth, your eyes shut close as you take in the relentless waves of pleasure that shoot through your body. It’s all too much and too little.

Your sounds were music to her ears. Every time you moaned, she did right along with you. Your pleasure was her pleasure.

You begin to thrust in time with Rosé guiding your hips, feeling like you need to thank Rosé for helping you find the perfect pace with her steady hands. You want to thank her for making you feel so, so fucking good.

A burning fire sets low, and it grows impossibly grand. You feel it tying and tying and want to cry out in desperation. Your pleads fall right against her demanding lips. “Please, please… Please, Rosé.”

You don’t even know what you're asking for, too caught up in her, she seems to know though. With just a slight change in the way she angles her thigh, Rosé continues to guide your hips. The shift hits perfectly, just there, right where you needed it. You hear your occasional moans, increasingly getting louder as the coil in your stomach tightens.

“It’s okay.” She reassures, sucking at your tongue for another moment. “Come for me. Show me, baby. I want to see how beautiful you look undone. I want to see it all.”

You don’t need any more convincing after that.

As if wired to Rosé’s firm orders, your body lets go in a powerful release that has you high for a few minutes. When you come down, you feel Rosé’s lips catch a few tears of pure overstimulation falling from your eyes.

You’re panting, damp, and bashful. Your head falls almost shyly on top of her shoulder and you take deep breaths in.

Now what? You couldn’t help but think.

Rosé keeps holding you, waiting. Her hands run along your back almost soothingly, and then she begins to fix your clothes in a surprising display of care. When her knuckles grazed against your underwear, you jolted. “Sorry.” She apologizes.

“Come home with me.” It wasn’t a question, more so a demand. Rosé wasn’t done, that much was obvious with the way she was looking at you. She wanted to make you feel like heaven.

Luckily for you, you didn’t have to walk past the table with Rosé. You think you’d turn into a turtle and hide in your shell if you had to. The marks on your neck aren’t subtle at all and surely the girls would put two and two together. You took the back entrance to her car.

Of course she drove a Mercedes Benz. She opened the passenger door for you before getting in herself. Rosé put on the radio at a low volume and then you were on your way. Your hands on eachother someway or another, whether it’s her holding your hand or your fingers trailing up her thigh.

You pulled up to a building tower. In the lobby, Roseanne handed her keys to the desk man before leading you to an elevator. You went to the top floors, walked down a hallway and she opened the door to her place.

Roseanne watches you look around. She sees the way the corners of your lips turn up ever so slightly when you notice something you like or that intrigues you. She sees how the lights of the room add even more of a sparkle to your eyes, how your long lashes meet every so often.

You loved her place, it was beautifully designed. The place was very much like her. It was open spaced, the only wall really creating a room was glass, and it led to a staircase. The lights were dim, complimenting the nude color scheme. Very modern furniture.

She takes your hand and leads you upstairs silently. Throwing her coat on a desk chair when you enter the room. A king sized bed is centered by the wall, gray and white bedding, the frame is surrounded with soft white ambient lighting. There’s a large bookcase to the side of the wall, filled with law books and others.

You look at the future pictures she has in her room. One, a younger version of herself and what looks like a little boy. The other, a family portrait— ripped in half, leaving her and the little boy again. You furrowed your brows, confused.

“Rosé, why is this picture ripped?” You held it up to her, watched how her eyes hardened, turned cold before bringing it down, but the damage was done. “Nothing you need to know about.” She snapped, immediately regretting it when you flinched.

You blanched. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” None of your business. You placed the photo frame back. Standing in the middle of the room, before deciding to sit on the bed, not knowing what to do with yourself.

Rosé shuffles around some more before turning to you. “Do you still want this?”

“Yes.” Yes, of course you do. Then, she kisses you.

The pace is slow, allowing you to focus on the softness of her lips as you press yours to them. They taste like the wine she was sipping on earlier; rich and utterly intoxicating.

When you part for air, she dips her head down and kisses your neck. The kisses aren't shy in the slightest. They're bold, open mouthed, entirely seductive kisses that are meant to leave you ruinous and put you under her spell. She further asserts this side of herself as she pushes you against the bed, smiling against your pulsepoint at the soft grunt you make in response to the impact.

She pulls back slightly, still leaning over you with her hands gripping either side of your face. “I need to feel you.” Desperation evident in her tone. When she speaks your gaze is zeroed in on her swollen red lips. When you nod, she surges forward and kisses you again as her hands go to the zipper of your dress, quickly unzipping it and letting it fall to the floor, eager to feel you. Goosebumps span out across your skin in response to the cold air, going noticed by her as her wandering hands feel them. She rolls her hips, causing you to gasp.

Rosé pulls back to look into your eyes. A dominance shines in hers, but it's soft. She'd never make you do something you're uncomfortable with. Light from one of the nearby lamps casts a hazy glow on her, making her even more ethereal.

You tug on her dress, wanting it off because you want to feel her too. When it’s off; black lace. You gape and your mouth runs dry as you drink in the sight of her, letting your eyes take their time in admiring every inch offered up. A smug smirk rests on her lips, though truth be told she feels giddy to have you looking at her in such a way.

“You’ve so pretty, Rosé.”

She blushed. And It was the oddest sensation. She wasn’t used to blushing, and your comment was very honest, not meant to embarrass her or anything— and yet she could feel the warmth on her cheeks. No doubt you noticed.

You pull her back, lips pressing together in a slow dance. Everything was all too much— having her against you like this. Rosé slides down to her knees, now kneeling in front of you. Heat blossoms on your face at the sight. You stare at her with parted lips, anticipating her next move.

Cautiously, to test the waters, she reaches a hand out, allowing it to stroke the back of your calf. Your eyes close at the sensation, reveling in the feeling of her slightly chilly fingertips against you. You let her continue. She moves in closer until her front is hovering in between you, but far enough away for her to still be able to get a good look at you If she peers up.

Her breath fans across your thighs, steady and tantalizing. Your head gently lulls back when she brings her free hand to your other leg, sliding it further up until it reaches the back of your thigh. You tremble slightly, and so she leans forward to press a soothing kiss to your hip. The action in itself— caring and attentive— shocks her, though she doesn’t dwell upon it.

She tongues and nips at the inside of your thighs. "Shit," you curse quietly, causing her to grin. You're so sensitive to your touch that she can't help but get a confidence boost from it. She tugs at your underwear, and well, from there it’s all a blur.

…

You lay in Rosé’s arms, fast asleep. She studied your features, tracing her hands along the shape of your eyebrows, nose, cheekbones, lips, eyelids— anywhere. Once again, her heart pounded against her chest. Rosé sat up and ran a hand through her hair. She could only think,

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Stupid for sleeping with her plaintiff? No, she could care less about that. (Even though she strides for professionalism, you seemed to be the exception.)

Seeing you like this reminds her of what she could have. You. But she can’t have you, or Nala. She’ll fuck everything up, everything good that ever happens to her in a relationship— she can’t do that to you. It’s best to stop this. Stop it before it gets out of control.

Even if it means hurting you.

Would you like to continue?ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

#blackpink #biscuitblinkeu #blackpink x reader #chaeyoung x femreader #chaeyoung x fem!reader #rosé x reader #rosé x fem!reader #Unlawful.Biscuit

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straykidsreactionsandscenarios · 1 year

Text

Stray Kids Scenario - Dirty Little Secret ~ Christopher Bang + Lee Minho (Part 5)

Post Date: 27th February 2023 Content: Angst/ Slice of life Word Count: 1.2K TW?: Love Triangle (Chan x Reader x Minho)/ Tension Summary: After finding out Minho is in love with you too, Chris still has a grudge against him but tries to be civil for your sake.

Scenario Mobile Masterlist Prompt List

If you like my stuff and wanna tip, just buy me a coffee!

With stitches in his lip, Minho hides away in his room for the majority of the time after Chris' unofficial departure from the house, not being heard from or seen since he busted up Minho's lip. Leaving you sitting up all night crying, looking at the space where Chris should be sleeping next to you on the bed. Guilt goes through you and though none of it was your fault, you desperately want to get your boyfriend back, for him and Minho to makeup but you know how stubborn both can be at the best of times.

With tears running down your face, you try to hide from the others, especially this late at night but it was evident that you weren't subtle about the crying, hearing the faintest knock on the door.

"Come in!" You call out, excessively trying to hide the fact that you were crying again but your red puffy eyes are a massive giveaway when Jisung comes into the room.

"Hey Hannie." You force a smile, budging up on the bed for him to have room to take a seat next to you, pulling you into his embrace. Jisung was one of the most trusted boys you could rely on, especially since being Chris' first friend that he made, knowing him inside and out, better than you could ever imagines.

"He'll come back, just have to give him time, sweets." You had a nickname from everyone, sweets are what Jisung had chosen for you, for your sweet personality, and it made you smile every time he called you in.

Out of all of them, he's your platonic soulmate, probably why you and Chris got on so well in the first place.

"I hope so, Hannie. I can't cope any longer not knowing if he's okay. I just want to hug him. It's all my fault..." You sob quietly in his chest, with soft hands drawing circles on the back of your neck, couldn't even imagine how hard this is for the both of you right now.

Jisung sighs lightly, "Y/N. It's not your fault. It's not your fault that you're truly an amazing person who cares for everyone and doesn't want to hurt anyone. You did the right thing to forgive Minho, Chris shouldn't have swung for him. But also Minho is the one in the wrong, not you."

All you could is lay there and listen to him as he spoke, nervously biting on your lip, knowing he was right. "Ji, do you think I should be less... Nice?" You ask, instantly being pushed off him slightly so he could cup your cheeks, wiping away the stray tear that runs down one cheek.

"No. Never change. You're perfect as you are, it's not your fault for people falling in love with you for who you are" Jisung smiles, kissing your forehead and letting go of your face, "The world needs more people like you".

With that, there's a loud bang at the front door that could be heard, rushing off the bed, you look back at Jisung with wide eyes and a pleading heart, rushing out of the room with him to be greeted by Chris standing there, looking exhausted, puffy-eyed and red in the face. You give it no chance by standing there, rushing over to him and jumping into his arms, his soft sniffles could be heard as his arms tightly wrapped around you.

"I'm so sorry." He quietly mumbles against your shoulder, briefly looking up at Jisung who stands there with a small smile on his face.

"Thank you for looking after my girl, Jisung." Chris adds, forcing a smile as he peels himself off you slightly, opening an arm to hug his best friend.

"Not a problem, she's everything to all of us. Don't lose her, Chris." Jisung whispers in his ear, quiet enough so you didn't hear him and receives a small nod from Chris, who pats him on the back, looking back at you before placing a soft kiss on your temple.

The others come out of their rooms in drabbles, not saying much at all but giving their eldest friend a hug, Minho staying back and behind everyone, keeping himself hidden. Seeing you in his arms pains him more, but if you're happy, he'd deal with the pain he has to go through.

Just as Minho goes to leave the room unannounced, Chris calls after him with a slightly stern voice, making Minho freeze up on the spot, head hanging low.

"Guys, can I have a moment with him alone, please? You too princess, go with Jisung and I'll be there in a moment-" He adds, smiling softly at you but you cut him off.

"Please don't hurt him". Chris puts up a pinky finger, swearing that he'd keep your word as you kiss him on the lips softly before jumping onto Jisung's back, laughing as he runs down the hallway.

"Minho, come here." Chris orders lightly, Minho barely looking away from the floor as he moves slowly towards him, hands in his pockets, just waiting to be hit again.

"Come here." Chris says again, putting a hand on Minho's shoulder and making him flinch.

"You were right, she's extremely lucky to have all of us. But more than anything, we're extremely lucky to have her around us. And for her, I want us to be on good terms. For her. She cares for you, even after the stupid little move you made, she's going to defend you because she knows who you fall in love with, can't be helped." Chris tries his best to not sound bitter, understanding that if he wants to make things work with you, he's going to have to try his best to be as civil as he possibly could be with Minho.

Chris sighs, putting out his hand for Minho to take for a handshake, "You're the lucky one, Chan. You get to call her yours, I'm the lone wolf who's deeply in love with his friend's girl. Don't fuck that up, seriously. You fuck up and I'll be here to clean up the mess you leave her in."

Minho starts off nicely, staring at Chris' open hand and scoffs to himself before stepping backwards, only hoping for him to mess up. Leaving Chris in the room alone, Minho walks off, uncaring if he gets hit again. All Chris can do is stand there and scowl at Minho, unknowing if it was a threat or not, but by the way, he's been warned twice now not to ruin things between you, he's on edge about your feelings about Minho too. Though tries his best to ignore the terrible thoughts of you falling for Minho too.

Taglist: @hipster-shiz, @ateezreactionsandscenarios, @whatudowhennooneseesyou, @bellscamander

#stray kids #stray kids blog #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagines chan #stray kids imagines minho #stray kids imagines lee know #bang chan #lee know #lee minho #christoper bang #stray kids series

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taechaos · 3 years

Text

Silent Treatment

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you.

warnings: slight angst, drugs, arguing, dubcon, cunnilingus, mild degredation

word count: 4.2k

tags: @mwitsmejk @1-in-abillion @kooookie

a/n: the request (contains some spoilers). i'm gonna take a very short break from this couple to write other requests!! hope u enjoy 💗

The shift in the Spring weather is unpredictable. One moment it’s chilly, and the other sunny. Humans can only adapt so much, and it causes an outbreak of common colds. Most people recover easily, handy medicine soothing their sore throats, syrups suppressing coughs, and nose sprays ridding the blockage. You, on the other hand, are not that lucky. With a weak immune system, you’re very careful to not get sick, but there must have been a slip-up because you’ve somehow lost your voice after catching a cold.

You sniffle and cough, but you can’t speak. It’s advised to not exert your vocal cords in cases like these, and that is just so unfortunate for you. The last thing you’d ever want to do is spread your sickness to Jungkook, and that meant not getting too close to him; it meant no kissing.

A very large white placard is spread out in front of you on the wooden table, and you’re plastering printed images of a specific global issue on it. You’re sitting on a bench with two of your friends as they chatter mindlessly while you work. Jungkook has a project about climate change due in a few days, and it’s supposed to be very important for his final grade. You’ve already written him a script for his presentation along with a stick prop to point at specific pictures. It’s fun, glittery and he’s going to love it.

“Hey,” Minnie, your friend, calls for you, “we’re going to get some coffee from Starbucks. Want us to get you green tea?”

Soyeon laughs when your eyes light up; it’s your favorite beverage, and it’s supposed to help with your sore throat. They leave with a smile after you give them a hyper nod and you’re alone as you adjust your woolen scarf around your neck. You need to heal as fast as you can so you’re no longer missing your beloved’s affection.

Jungkook has been feeling more inclined to approach you without reason lately, but that doesn’t mean it’s a common occurrence. Getting teased by his friend, specifically Taehyung, about having a sissy crush on a girl like yourself angered him to no end. A hit always got him to shut up, but not for long. He’s walking your way today because there’s no one around to judge him for talking to you.

You’re tearing a double-sided tape when he sits on your table, carefully avoiding your materials. Your breath hitches as his eyes gloss over your work in progress. “Working hard, I see,” he comments with disinterest. He doesn’t say anything about your efforts, but he’s impressed. The corner of his lip tugs upwards before he leans in for a kiss. You have enough self-control and concern for his well-being over your desires to lean back before your lips make contact. His face is close to yours as he pauses and slightly frowns before trying again. He receives the same results and finally pulls back.

“You did well,” he frowns at you and speaks as if you’re a child, “I’m praising you.” Your eyes are darting back and forth awkwardly and you don’t know what to do other than sit in silence. You put your hands on his knees as a resort and his frown deepens as he watches you. “I can take a hint, you know. You don’t have to fucking ignore me.” He roughly shoves your hands and stands up before storming off with a scoff. You’re torn between following him and being responsible over your belongings. You can’t let his grades go to waste because of a small misunderstanding, so you decide to text him instead. There’s always a possibility someone might steal his project. Or maybe after he’s cooled off? You delay the message, but somewhere in your heart, you’re satisfied by his reaction because it’s clear that he wanted to kiss you.

Heavy footsteps clomp against the sidewalk before Jungkook slumps on the seat next to Taehyung. It’s an isolated area for smoking students at the back of the campus, and his friend group is no exception to this role. They’re taking drags of cigarettes individually as Jungkook glares at his boots. They’re chunky and a bold black, and his dark outfit paints him as the big bad wolf. It fits, because he’s ready to attack when he’s filled with so much resentment. Why did you reject him? He’s consumed by his thoughts and theories of your behavior because you didn’t say a single word to him. If your actions were anything to go by, which apparently speak louder than words, you didn’t even want him to touch you. It doesn’t make sense, but you also grimaced at him, but then why were you doing his homework? He’s feeling frustrated, and upset all the same.

“Someone’s troubled,” Seokjin points out with a mouthful of smoke. “Kookie?”

Said boy only grunts in response.

“Did the lousy girl finally see you for who you really are and leave you?” Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to mock him with a pout. “Tragic.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tae,” Jungkook spits and sends him a death glare, fire flaming in his fierce eyes. “Go actually talk to a girl or something, and leave me alone. I can’t take your shit right now.”

The low blow doesn’t affect Taehyung in the slightest as he holds up his hands in defence with comically wide eyes. “Relax, tiger.”

“Moving on from Tae’s inability to talk to girls in broad daylight, what’s up with you Kook?” Namjoon butts in, earning a fake cough from the receiving end of the insult.

He pauses for a moment before babbling, “I hate those bitches. My mother for one, couldn’t stand wearing clothes whenever she saw a dude. Moving on from guy to guy, unless they’re a fucking asshole. What do they want? Why are they never fucking satisfied?!”

A moment of silence passes among the huddled friends before Yoongi breaks it with a joke, “Who’s the lucky girl?” It doesn’t land as Jungkook deeply sighs in response. “Did she cheat on you?” he tries again.

“No,” he murmurs.

“Then…?”

“She… I don’t fucking know, she gave me the silent treatment. She leaned away from me too,” he shakes his head with a quiet groan, “it just doesn’t add up. I got mad and left.”

“No way that could’ve ended up badly,” Taehyung chuckles but purses his lips when he’s sent another dirty look. “How long was the interaction anyway?”

“Like 30 seconds.”

“Are you coming out tonight?” Yoongi asks and puts out the burning tip of his stick. “Could help you feel better.”

“And we’ve got molly,” Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

Alcohol’s effect on a person differs in moods, and Jungkook is usually a horny drunk. Being a sad drunk is a first for him tonight, but he’s just so confused. It made his heart drop when you outwardly refused his advances and anxiety blossomed in his chest, which he has no idea how to deal with. It kicked in fight or flight instincts, and he just… hated the idea of you not loving him, even if it’s momentary. He can’t bear staying in a situation that makes him feel so insecure, and that feeling is supposed to be left in his childhood. You just about brought out the worst in him without doing anything.

You didn’t do anything.

It’s 10PM and he’s waiting on your usual good night text that he never responds to. It’s so pathetic, and he hates himself for being so used to your affection that it worries him when he’s deprived of it. He’s never doubted your love for him, but his insecurities are churning his gut. It’s an overflow of all of his pent-up emotions, and he can’t handle it.

“Here,” Taehyung pops in out of nowhere, clutching a pill in his hand. There’s a bottle of water in the other as he holds them out for Jungkook to take. “Stop moping and get laid.”

“I’d say the same to you, but you’d probably start crying during sex,” he mumbles and uncaps the bottle before throwing in the pill and washing it down with the water. “Thanks.”

“See that girl over there?” he ignores him and steps behind his miserable friend to point at the owner of the sultry gaze directed at Jungkook from the bar. “She wants to fuck you. Or maybe me, but I’m passing her onto you.”

“How kind of you,” he sarcastically replies.

“Uh-uh, so you’re gonna be in ecstasy in about 10 minutes. Don’t fuck this up.” He slaps his shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. It’s a lonesome party because not a lot of people are allowed in when drugs are involved. Causing a ruckus, receiving a noise complaint and then getting arrested is out of the question.

He isn’t interested in sex with a stranger - not today at least -, but he hopes for it to change as he waits to approach her. Maybe drugs will rile him up enough to have fun with someone else and rid his mind of you. It’s an annoying itch on his brain, so he rests his head against the couch to comfort himself with the soft fabric. He’s sleepy from the beer he drank earlier, and he doesn’t know how time goes by so fast when he closes his eyes.

A few minutes must have passed, because he’s starting to feel dizzy in his seat. A smile carves on his face as his mind grows slightly fogged, and he opens his eyes to find the girl quietly chatting with a friend. When she glances at him, he beckons her to come over. She mouths a “be right back” to her friend before strutting in his direction.

“Hey,” she smiles down at him before sitting on the couch. She’s aristocratic, chic and pretty. “Sorry if I weirded you out earlier.” Her voice is sweet like honey, and her words flow out of her tongue so naturally. A dream girl, really, and Jungkook is starting to get horny.

“I don’t mind,” he reassures with a subtle seductive tone, “what’s a girl like you doing with this crowd? You look too innocent.” He wraps a finger around a strand of her hair and twirls it. It feels strange.

“My friend sent me here, told me to watch over someone,” she lowly speaks. “I’m Soyeon.”

“Nice to meet you, Soyeon,” he breathes before crashing her lips with his. His hand reaches down to grip her thigh, tongue poking out to swipe the sticky gloss. It’s flavored, and it tastes of strawberry. When she kisses him back so slowly, innocently, it turns him on so much. His pants feel tight around his crotch as he runs another hand through her soft hair. Compared to him, she’s passionate whereas he’s sloppy. He’s starting to get dizzier, and it feels so fucking good, but he hates it.

There is not a single reason for him to not enjoy this, not when his mood is lifting so high. The hand on her thigh lands on her cleavage instead and she’s so submissive and shy, but something’s off. He groans into her mouth before biting her lip, ripping a whine out of her. Why does she sound so sexy and annoying?

He pulls away from her before sighing in irritation. “Fuck, I can’t do this.”

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks worriedly.

“No, just, fuck.” He starts laughing before rubbing his palms on his eyes, “I really want to fuck, but I just can’t.”

“We can just chat,” she softly suggests. “What’s your name?”

“Jungkook.”

He removes his hands from his face when she goes silent. Her eyes are wide and she’s gaping at him… guiltily? “Crap,” she hisses quietly, “I was supposed to make sure you were okay. My roommate is like, super in love with you and asked me to come here.”

He says your name in a question, wondering if it’s you. When she nods, he asks for your dorm instantly.

“She’s in room 124… Why?”

When he stands up, there’s a sway in his posture but he recovers quickly. There’s an involuntary grin on his face as he thanks her ignorantly. He’s out of the villa in a rush, and he has the overwhelming urge to just run. The campus is a bit far away from the house, but he doesn’t care as his footfalls echo in the dark streets. He has so much energy to waste, and with his current stamina, he’s confident he’ll find you before dawn. It’s stupid but it’s fun, and he doesn’t care for catching his breath as the corner stores pass by him in a blur.

Throughout the two hours of his reckless jog, where he mixed up directions multiple times, his mind is starting to clear up little by little. He’s happy because of what Soyeon told him, and he feels relieved upon seeing the familiar college building. He’s not allowed in dorms at this time, but he’s done this too many times to get caught. Except he was drunk in those instances, and being on MDMA was different. Sneaking past security was tough because he couldn’t bring himself to tiptoe without making so much noise. When they glanced at him, he thought it to be the only choice to just run past them. He’s in the elevator by the time they catch on, and the numbers look wonky in his eyes but he presses the button for the right floor.

He’s shifting his weight repeatedly in an attempt to contain his excitement; he wants to see you so bad. The moment he hears the ding of the elevator, he’s running past the halls and stops upon seeing 124. He has to squint, but he knows this is your dorm.

You wake up with a silent gasp when there’s a pound on the door. You clutch your sheets in fear until someone starts to sing your name. “Jungkook?” you mouth to yourself. You stand up and look through the peephole and there’s a man on the other side who’s bouncing on his feet impatiently.

“Open up,” he sings loudly. You’re worried when you swing the door open and yank him inside so he doesn’t wake up any other students. You try to talk but only a wheeze comes out, so you switch on the light to see him instead. The brightness hurts your eyes as you close them for a few seconds. “Well, well, well, look who we have here…”

He starts to circle around you slowly and stumbles behind you. “Sending people to spy on me after rejecting me like that.” His words are slightly slurred and you turn around to face him with a pout. You point at your throat to give him a hint, but his eyes don’t waver from your pleading ones. “What are your intentions, huh?” he weakly pushes you, “Sending me mixed signals. Who- who do you think you are?”

You hold his hands and place them on your neck, trying to communicate with him by mouthing, “I’m sick,” but he only chuckles. He seems sickeningly joyous, but he’s not over his anger. “Still not going to talk to me? What did I even do?”

You deeply inhale from your nose because he’s not paying attention to you. You’re frustrated with yourself until he yells, “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” The surge of serotonin, his state of euphoria is crashing down on him the more you ignore him. He had believed the drug would only make him happy, but it intensified his sadness and anxiety just as much when he saw you. It helped him forget you in a social circle, but you confused him so much after he was reassured for so long - coupled with your silence, he’s raging.

“Why are you ignoring me?! What did I do that was so bad that you can’t bear talking to me anymore? You told me you loved me, please,” he chokes and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “I-I’ll make it up to you, I’m so sad right now. Just say something…”

You’re watching him in shock and a hint of fear from his fluctuating mood. You want to cry at how pitiful he looks, but instead you aim to grab a piece of paper from your bedside table. He misreads your actions and pushes you against the wall. “Stop this. Stop!” He has your arms pinned and he’s trying so hard to intimidate you so you give in. A dry sob leaves you because he's going mad, but then he has a sudden epiphany. “Maybe you’ll love me again if I fuck you hard enough and engrave it in your brain that you’re mine. Yes, yes!”

He starts unbuckling his belt and you immediately try to stop him; he’ll get sick! He shoves you again and pulls down his jeans before mashing his mouth against yours. All of your efforts have gone to waste when his tongue forces its way down your throat. There’s no point to denying him now, so you hesitantly kiss him back. You’re so guilty, and he’s so careless as he roughly pushes his hand down your white cotton shorts. You’re wearing a navy blue sweater to match so you don’t get cold in the night, but the shorts are meant to prevent a fever. What’s the point now, then? He hasn’t even read your texts that you only remembered to send before sleeping. He missed a whole paragraph of your explanation and confronted you so angrily.

“I’m going to fuck you all night,” he growls against your lips, “then you’ll remember how much you love me.” Your moans are quiet and hitched as he presses down on your clit through your panties. His other hand is on his cock as he strokes it eagerly, ready to get inside you. “I missed you so fucking much in one day,” he whispers in a croak. Hearing it makes you feel even warmer inside as you nudge his hand to urge him to enter you. “You missed me too, huh?” he takes notice of your neediness. “Shouldn’t have fucking brought it upon yourself then.”

He removes his hand from your shorts and taps your thighs before demanding, “Jump.” You bite your lip in consideration until he taps them harder and you quickly wrap your legs around his waist. Your shorts are relatively short, resembling loose boxers, so when your back is pressed against the wall he only pushes them and your underwear to the side before thrusting into you. A scream gets caught in your throat, and you forget all about your aches as he roughly fucks into you without caring for protection or lube. It stings only slightly, but the pleasure in feeling so full of him outweighs the pain.

Jungkook is moaning and groaning as he bruises your thighs in his hold. Your panting is all he can catch, and though the feeling of you is an amplified sensation because of the drug coursing in his system, he wants to hear you chant his name as well. “Still quiet?” he tuts and carries you to your narrow bed and you cling onto his shoulder while trying to catch your breath after the sudden attack. “Your cunt is throbbing though,” he says as he pulls out of you and drops you on the bed. He manhandles you by flipping you on your stomach and holds up your ass. He finally takes off your bottom clothing, but he’s slightly dizzy as he yanks them off your ankles. He spreads your thighs apart and you’re on your knees with your head against the mattress. “I wonder why that is,” he says before slapping your pussy, making you whimper quietly. “So wet, yet you don’t even make a sound. Some whore you are.” You purse your lips and muster a whine, but it’s interrupted when he pistons his cock inside you without warning. Your sounds are hoarse as he pounds into you from the back, hands kneading your ass to the shape of his hands. He gives it a spank as he moans loudly; the new position makes it feel so much more intense, and Jungkook loves it. His ears finally get to hear your pathetic mewls as he thrusts so deeply inside you that your vision blurs with tears and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. You feel like a doll that can’t speak or move, and he’s evidently enjoying it going by his rushed pace. You’re challenging him with your silence, and he loves proving himself.

All of a sudden however, he stops moving. You look behind you with a pout and he quirks a brow at you. You grit your teeth because you know he's waiting for you to tell him to continue, or rather daring you to do something. A sudden surge of confidence overcomes you and you gently slam your hips against his, fucking yourself on his cock with your eyes screwed shut.

“Yes, baby,” he strains, “show me that you're still my good girl.” At his encouragement, you meet his thrusts faster and you're seeing stars at how amazing it feels. You want to be his good girl so bad, and you arch your back to savour the pleasure. “Your pussy is mine, all mine,” he affirms to himself and stills your hips to turn you around without removing his length. His fingers are digging into your flesh and your tits bounce under the fabric as he rams into you restlessly. Your mouth is open in a silent scream and he can barely make out your pupils, the whites of your eyes stirring his climax at how attractive you look under the poor lighting. “I love you so fucking much,” he cries, “say it back, baby.”

You try to, but you can only dryly cough. “You fucking bitch,” he hisses at your defiance and pulls out of you to pump his length. He’s close to his release, and he pushes up your sweater to see your hard nipples that make him salivate. He crawls to slide his cock between the valley of your breasts and it hurts when he harshly pushes them together. “Stick out your tongue,” he commands in a whisper, and you do so while panting like a dog. Every time he thrusts upwards, the tip of his head grazes your tongue and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s massaging your tits as he stutters between whines, and eventually his load spurts out to land on your chest and cheek with a particularly loud groan. His cum surges down his shaft as he rides out his high with the last slow thrusts.

“Oh fuck,” he sighs airily and collapses next to you in the tiny space available. You clumsily turn on your side to give him more room and he pecks your swollen lips. He zips his pants back up and you’re still naked from the waist down. You’re staring at each other adoringly in the romantic, fragile atmosphere; another first.

“I love you,” you croak finally. It’s quieter than a whisper, and it makes you cringe at how hideous you sound; it’s painful as well.

His face lights up once he registers your words before noticing the tone. “What happened to your voice?”

“Sick.” You can’t bring yourself to say anything more as you snuggle into his side and he instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Shit,” he murmurs, “why didn’t you tell me that sooner, idiot?”

You slap a hand on his front pocket where his phone is, and he hastily takes it out to see a bunch of notifications from you. “You sent it at night, you’re still the idiot.” You giggle and roll your eyes. “A promise is a promise, though,” he purrs before cupping your bare heat. “I did say I would fuck you all night.” You widen your eyes when his head lowers down to face your sopping wet cunt, and he slowly licks up a stripe over your soaked folds, making you shudder and grip his hair. He’s leaving kitty licks all over your sensitivity, the tip of his tongue lightly brushing against your clit every now and then. Your hips lift involuntarily, and he finally takes your clit in his mouth and sucks on it loudly. He slurps your arousal before spitting it back on your hood, and you can only squeak in response. Your hazed mind only tells you that you want more, and he doesn’t fail to provide.

Two fingers enter your clenching hole, and he’s scissoring your walls as he messily eats you out. The pleasure from earlier returns all too soon and you know you won’t be able to last long. His lids are hooded when you glance down at him and the way he’s looking at you makes it even harder to resist your orgasm. The knot in your stomach picks back up right before unraveling and your moan is raspy as you start twitching under his relentless mouth. He grows gentle and leaves kisses all over your vulva until your body falls limp on the sheets.

After another round of penetrative sex, the two of you fall asleep from exhaustion in your bed. It’s a first for the both of you, and Jungkook decides in his drunken mind that tonight won’t be the last. It feels so intimate when he cuddles you, and you won’t ever forget his love confession.

The next morning is not so pleasant however, as Jungkook wakes up with a loud sneeze and in his now nasal voice says, “God fucking damn it.”

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #bts fic #jungkook fic

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

Text

mystery date. [ childe x reader ]

prompt: “you’re mine.” “when exactly did i agree to that?” w/ childe for my 2.5k follower event pairing: childe x gn!reader warnings: slight possessiveness (as dictated by the prompt), oh my god they were roommates (friends to roommates to lovers idk), reader wears makeup words: ~1.6k words

a/n: bro ur reader is gnc as fuck aaa childe brainrot...

you had first met childe when he joined the traveler's party. you had accompanied the traveler from mondstadt to liyue, deciding that it was one again time for you to pack your bags and depart the city of freedom. despite your adventures across teyvat, you had never stayed in liyue for more than a few days at a time.

initially, you had planned to follow the traveler to inazuma, but a single smirk from the eleventh harbinger of the fatui had told you to stay in liyue alongside of him. of course, this didn't mean you had a crush. not at all. you didn't want to kiss him stupid whenever he stared at you with that lopsided, cocky grin that he seemed to save only for you, nor press your lips to his bandaged wounds in hopes that your affections will speed up the healing process.

you two are merely friends-turned-roommates. childe, upon hearing that you potentially wanted to stay in liyue, had immediately offered you the spare bedroom in his apartment in liyue harbor. after your insistence as to how he shouldn't let you stay with him for free, he begrudgingly let you pay rent, albeit at a steeply discounted price. childe had been stubborn about the topic, but you even more so.

but the longer you lived with him, the two of you only had gotten closer. despite his typically outgoing nature, childe preferred to stay in the apartment more often than not during his free time, yet he always seemed to long for human contact. it hadn't taken you long to realize that he felt the need to stay inside out of embarrassment from the danger he had brought to liyue harbor shortly before the traveler's departure to inazuma.

so, out of respect and definitely not because your heart soared at the thought of spending more time with him, you had begun staying in too. childe had noticed the change and thanked you in subtle ways, yet hadn't outright voiced his gratitude. it was one of those things that the two of you had understood without outright saying it. however, the harbinger wasn't clingy nor overbearing. he never requested your presence unless you offered.

but today, as you get ready in the mirror of your bathroom, childe shuffles past the open door in a typical set of pajamas, decidedly having another night in. you, on the other hand, have dressed yourself up in a slightly nicer-than-usual outfit and were now leaning in close to the mirror, applying a thin layer of eyeshadow.

"oh?" childe's inquisitive voice causes you to jump a little, startled by his interruption. "what are you getting all dressed up for?"

his voice lacks any form of accusation, but rather genuine curiosity. you turn and grin at him with partially-complete makeup.

"ah, just meeting a friend for dinner," you say and childe raises his brows in intrigue. the vagueness of your words lures him in as you were usually the type to be abrupt and forthright about everything with him.

"a friend?" childe asks, narrowing his eyes slightly at your mischievous expression. he's not a complete idiot -- he knows exactly what you're trying to do. you're trying to bait him into a conversation about this, especially with the way your eyes glint with the hint of a challenge.

"mhm. it's his turn to pay, too." you giggle and childe's eyes darken with jealousy at the implication of your words. got him. you think victoriously, excited at the way the harbinger leans against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest.

"oh, it's a guy? hm," childe says, trying to act nonchalant, yet the both of you know full and well that he's doing a piss poor job of hiding his conflicting emotions.

"yeah! he's really nice and we seem to get along well," you continue, knowing provoking childe with your words was akin to poking a sleeping bear with a stick. you look at him with wide eyes, feigning an expression of innocence. "do you think i should ask him out?"

"no." childe blurts out, before blushing furiously at his own words. he looks slightly mortified at himself and you have to bite back a laugh, instead choosing to raise your eyebrows in surprise.

"why not?" you ask, lacing your tone with confusion. sure, it was a bit evil of you to do this, but despite all of his fatui harbinger training, you realized childe was... rather easy to deceive when it came to understanding your emotions.

childe falls silent, lips pressing into a line as he thinks of what to say. his blush only worsens, but the lopsided smile that you love so much returns to his face as he stands up straight. with his weight no longer on the doorframe, childe takes a step closer to you, hovering his face just a short distance away from yours. with an eerie calmness you've only heard him use in battle, childe speaks his following words.

"because you're mine."

childe states it as if it's been obvious the entire time, yet you're still taken aback. sure, you were his from the moment you set eyes on him, immediately smitten for the man who seemed to fit together with you like two adjacent puzzle pieces. however, you had never expected him to outright say such a provocative statement. you're left reeling by his words, but you quickly pick up the pieces together, not wanting to admit that the harbinger was correct to his face.

instead, you egg him on further.

"when exactly did i agree to that?" you challenge, narrowing your eyes. childe's brows furrow slightly at your goading tone as his eyes flit over your face, staring just a moment too long at your lips to still be considered friendly, but the bridge between friendly and whatever the hell this conversation could be considered to be had long since been crossed.

"that's how it always has been, right?" childe asks as his ocean blue eyes swim with amusement, yet you can see a faint nervousness in them, as if he's afraid you'll call his bluff.

"i suppose," you concede and childe's eyes widen in surprise at the casual nature of your words. "but still, what's stopping me from going out tonight?"

childe's arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in closer. his face leans in close to yours, yet he hesitates before fully closing the distance between the two of you, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. deciding to answer his question before he can ask, you grasp the front of his shirt and press your lips against his, balling up the loose fabric in your fists. a hand of his fumbles its way up to the back of your head as he returns the kiss with the passion of a man starved and you are his next meal.

the kiss feels scorching as he backs you into the bathroom counter. his enthused reaction confirms that you weren't the only one desperate for this moment to happen, especially as he seems reluctant to pull away for air. yet he does and the two of you stare at each other for a brief moment, air rife with tension.

until, of course, you break out in a fit of giggles. childe stares at you in confusion, yet he can't help the lighthearted smile that crosses his features as you find enjoyment in the situation.

"uh," you begin as you catch your breath. "you know i was only going out with zhongli tonight, right?"

childe's expression drops at your words. "you were going to ask zhongli out?"

"no!" you laugh. "no, i just wanted to pretend it was some guy to mess with you. if i had known you would actually kiss me over it, i would have done it sooner."

childe laughs in shock at your words. "you're evil, (y/n)," he curses you, yet his tone is playful.

"says the harbinger," you shoot back and childe rolls his eyes.

"says the one who willingly kissed said harbinger," he teases back and you laugh once more.

"i'll do it again, if you'd like," you offer and childe's eyes widen slightly in excitement.

"i mean, what i would like is to take you on a date, but if you want to kiss until then, that's cool too," childe brazenly suggests, yet you can hear the slight waver of anxiety in his voice. you grin devilishly at him.

"yeah yeah, but only if i can call you my boyfriend," you insist. you relish in the way his expression lights up at your words and his arm finds its way around your waist once more. he stares into your eyes once more, yet this time, his expression is one of admiration, rather than one that requests permission.

childe places his lips upon yours and you feel like you're flying once more.

EXTRA:

"sorry i'm late!" you say, shuffling into the opposite side of the booth, across from the brown-haired man that looks at you in amusement. his amber eyes flit over your outfit, yet his gaze is nothing but friendly. he's quiet for a moment as a smirk appears on his face and you narrow your eyebrows.

"i take it your plan went well," zhongli finally chuckles. you stare at him in shock as zhongli's gaze returns to the menu in his hand.

"... how'd you know?" you ask, confused and the ex-archon looks up at you with a knowing glance.

"you're not typically late," zhongli says and questions begin to fly through your head as to why such an occurrence was an indicator in a change in your relationship with childe.

"and," zhongli adds. "your lipstick is smeared."

#childe x reader #genshin impact x reader #childe #genshin impact #axia's writing

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hotch-stufff · 3 years

Text

Love is Complicated

gifs by hqtchner & ncis-season-

Pairing: Hotch x reader, Gibbs x reader

Warnings!: angst, pining, kissing, fluff

Request: "well i was thinking about a criminal minds x ncis crossover, where the reader has a big crush on gibbs but then she meets hotch and she is really confused 😿" @wolviesbabes

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Your hand scribbled yet another word on the endless stack of paperwork that littered your desk. It really did never end. You set your pen down. You needed a break. You looked up and your eyes instantly found him. He was hunched over his desk, probably doing the same thing you were doing.

But God, did he look good doing it. Although in your opinion he looked good doing just about everything.

You noticed that about him over the past couple months on the NCIS team. You had been transfered from another similar unit in New Orleans on the recommendation of Dwayne Pride himself. Gibbs was quick to accept you to the unit, but he remained cold to you for the first couple of weeks. It wasn't until you saved him from a, for lack of better words, crazy gunman did he warm up to you.

After that, you two had gotten extremely close. So close that you developed a small crush on the man. Although, you hid it rather well. No one, atleast not to your knowledge, knew about your crush. And you intended on keeping it that way, but it was so hard when he was just sitting right in front of you, looking all handsome and just... him.

You wanted to tell him. You really did. But he was way out of your league, and you weren't even his type. But a girl could dream.

Vance suddenly came out of his office and called Gibbs up. He stood slowly and walked away. You prayed this wasn't a case. You really did not feel like dealing with a case right now.

He came back out a few moments later, a scowl on his face.

"What is it Gibbs?" You asked, he jerked his head towards Vance's office.

"He wants the team to attend an interagency gala on Saturday night." You scoffed. Of course he did. "FBI, CIA, and NCIS teams are all expected to attend. Including us." His scowled deepened at the thought of having to deal with other agencies.

"Great, just great." And you were so looking forward to a quiet weekened.

* * *

The night of the gala had arrived much quicker than expected. And of course Abby had insisted on going shopping for dresses. She herself had gotten a long black dress, with a slit. She said she would add a few things to make it more like her, and you couldn't wait to see it. You had gone with a more subtle dress. A long emerald green dress, with spaghetti straps and an open back. The front dipped slightly.

You had brought it with you to the office so you could get ready with Abby and as you were heading to the elevator to go to her floor, you heard Gibbs on the phone. Now you weren't one to eavesdrop, but you really couldn't stop yourself.

"I know, I know, it won't take long. I promise. Bye." Was he with someone else? You stood there frozen as he emerged from the room he was in.

"Hey y/n. Whatchtya doin?" He asked suspiciously.

"Oh, um nothing Gibbs, thought I heard you and wanted to say bye before we left, I didnt think you would actually go to the gala tonight, so I thought I could just stop in and-" he cut you off.

"Slow down, you're rambling. You okay?" You needed to get out of there.

"Yup, just been a long day. Alright well bye." You rushed off to Abby office. Once you got there, she instantly asked what was wrong. You explained everything. Your feelings, the conversation you heard, just everything.

"Awe, y/n/n. I'm so sorry. He's stupid if he doesn't see whats right in front of him." That made you smile.

"We should get ready." You stated standing up to grab your dress.

2 hours later, you and Abby walked up stairs looking amazing if you did say so yourself. Wolf whistles were heard coming from Tony as you two walked towards the group. You rolled your eyes, catching Gibbs smirk.

His eyes dragged up and down your body, which had confused you greatly. He had never showed any interest in you before, why now? Maybe he had and was just better at hiding it.

"Well, we should get going." You nodded, you all walked out to the SUVs ready for the night ahead of you.

* * *

The gala was interesting to say the least. Each agency decided to stay away from eachother, like elementary students. Each group taking up their own circle around the room.

You had spotted a rather handsome man who you had recognized as Aaron Hotchner sitting at the FBI tables and couldn't seem to take your eyes off of him. You new you had feelings for Gibbs,, but something about this man just drew you in. You had previously met him on a conjoined case with your old team, and you had developed the smallest of crushes on the man. You never expected anything to happen, and he was only in New Orleans for about a week.

Suddenly Gibbs popped back into your head, and you huffed slightly, turning to search for him. Finding him at a table nearby, talking with a woman. You scoffed and he looked over at you.

In a moment of impulse, you tunred away and walked across the empty dance floor straight to Agent Hotchner. He looked up from his conversation as you neared his table.

"Hi, NCIS Agent Y/l/n. We worked together on the Williams case about a year back." He nodded in recognition.

"Of course. Its great to see you again agent y/l/n." He paused looking you up and down in a way you welcomed. "Can I help you with something." He asked, not unkindly at all, but rather friendly.

"I was wondering if you would like to dance." He raised an eyebrow at you. "Someone's got to break the chill in this room." He nodded and stood up slowly, his team staring on in awe. You figured he didn't do this very often.

"I would love to." He took your hand bringing you to the dance floor as another song began. You two danced for about 10 minutes before more couples began to join you. You smiled in triumph and Hotchner laughed at your face.

"What? It worked didn't it?" He smiled shaking his head.

"I suppose it did." You two began talking and laughing and just getting to know each other. You soon found yourself at a table as you continued with your conversation.

"Okay but, im just saying if Strauss is anything like Vance, they would be perfect together." He laughed at this rather loudly, catching the eyes of a few people near by.

"That would never happen. If Vance is anything like Strauss they would drive each other crazy." You giggled softly. Soon it was time to leave, and Agent Hotchner, or Aaron as he had asked you to call him, offered to walk you to your SUV where the rest of your team was waiting. They all eyed you as this strange man walked you over, handing you a card and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. You had blushed profusely and walked over, getting in the car.

"So y/n, whos the hottie?" Abby began interrogating you as soon as you shut your door.

"Thats Agent Hotchner. He's the Unit Chief of the FBI's BAU." You smiled to yourself.

"Must be an ass if he's from the FBI." Gibbs remarked, another scowl gracing his face.

"He was actually quite the gentlman." Was your only response before turning to look out the window. Gibbs was the one being an ass. You had just spent the night with a wonderful man and Gibbs just had to ruin it by spouting some snarky comment that only confused you more. The rest of the ride was spent in silence.

* * *

Once back at the office, Gibbs had called you to the elevator, not giving you a chance to respond. You had of course listened, and as soon as the doors shut, he had pulled the emergency button.

"What is it Gibbs?" You asked softly. He just walked closer to you, cupping your face. "What are you doing?" He leaned in slowly bringing his lips to yours.

And you had expected it to be perfect and explosive and passionate. But... it wasn't. He pulled away after only a moment.

"Hang on, let me try that again." And he leaned in once more, pressing his lips to yours. But once again, there was nothing. He pulled away.

"That was ... strange?" He asked, more to himslef than anything.

"I uh, that-that was-"

"Not what I was expecting." He finished for you.

"You know Gibbs, I've been pining over you for months, and I'm guessing you felt the same. But I think we both met someone else tonight that changed our minds." You recalled him spending the whole night side by side with the woman you had seen earlier. You smiled shyly at him. "Call that woman you were with tonight. Tell her you want to go out on a date." He smiled looking into your eyes.

"Only if you call Agent Hochie, or whatever his name was, and tell him the same." You laughed at not only his comment, but the absurdity of the situation. For the past 5 months you had been yearning for a man who ended up not being what you wanted at all. It made you think that maybe what you really wanted, what you both really wanted, was someone to love. So you latched on to the person who had become closest to you.

"I love ya y/n." He whispered as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you too Gibbs. Now go get her." He stepped out of the elevator, pulling out his phone. You did the same, pulling out Aaron's card. It rang once. Twice.

"Hotchner." You giggled at his formal greeting. Taking a deep breath before going for it.

"Hey Aaron, I was just wondering if you were up for dinner?" He smiled.

"Of course. You know, I'm really glad you called."

"Me too." And you walked out of your office that night, a date with a man you had never expected, and a smile on your face.

-------

Not sure how I feel about this one, but I loved the request. Let me know what you guys think!! Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#hotch x reader #gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #ncis imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #ncis #gibbs #hotch #Jethro Gibbs #Aaron Hotchner #angst #fluff #reader insert #imagine

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jsngwrld · 3 years

Text

𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚𝒃𝒐𝒚

pairing : jisung x reader

word count : 1.6k

warnings : smut, mommy kink, use of babyboy but not age regression!!!, also only babyboy and sungie are used for jisung, fairly gender-neutral reader, soft dom!reader, sub!jisung, jisung has an oral fixation, a small bit of teasing, thigh riding, praise, jisung is whiny, nipple play kinda???, jisung sucks on reader’s chest, he’s also gagged using the reader’s fingers, mostly jisung focused tbh, a small tiny mention of edging and a small mention of tears, jisung cums in his pants, brief aftercare mention (don’t forget it irl though, it’s vvv important)

author’s note! ahh my first official writing!! i wrote this in like an hour and a half maybe??? babyboy!sungie = lots of motivation

also also this is dedicated to cedar <3 @http-chan bc they supported me in making this blog and listened to all of my thoughts about babyboy!sungie <3

it’s incredibly easy to tell when jisung is needy.

his eyes get even more round than they usually are and he takes glances at you that he thinks are sneaky but give him away instantly. he chews on his bottom lip and starts fidgeting with his fingers, playing with the hem of one of his oversized sweaters that he normally wears. he won’t come out right to say what he wants, waiting for you to pick up on his signals, but instantly blushes and hides when you ask him what he wants.

it’s incredibly easy to tell when jisung is needy. and that’s where you are now.

the male had been setting up a movie and some snacks for an at-home date you two were having when you noticed the first sign; the round eyes and his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. a couple minutes later, he began to fidget, glancing at you on the couch. once he’s finished setting the movie up and settles beside you, that’s when it becomes obvious. he can barely sit still, small whines passing his lips, trying to keep his eyes focused on the movie in front of him. you can easily see the movements under the blanket over your laps as he tries to find the most subtle way to tell you what he wants.

the opening scenes have barely begun when you reach a hand over onto his thigh, jisung letting out a small squeak at the sudden contact.

“sungie,” you start, the nickname eliciting a small whine from his lips, “why’re you so fidgety? aren’t you going to pay attention to the movie?”

he knows you know. and he knows that you won’t give him what he wants until he asks for it. jisung knows you love hearing him ask for whatever it is that he wants, you love hearing him beg. he’s torn between giving into your fake obliviousness and keeping his facade up until you give into him. he turns to look at you and pouts when he realizes that you’re not even looking at him. you’re playing a game with him, seeing how long he can last before he gives in. and so far, you’re winning.

jisung tries to hold back, he really does, but with your hand moving up towards the growing bulge in his sweatpants and the occasional question asking him if he’s alright is becoming too much for him to handle. your hand eventually brushes over his clothed cock, claiming you were reaching for the popcorn and that’s when he breaks. a small, high pitched whine leaves his lips and his hand moves to tug on your sleeve. you turn to look at him, only to see a small pout formed on his lips, his eyes big and glossy. just that one look is enough to know that jisung’s in his subspace now and you pause the movie to give him your full attention.

“m-mommy,” he murmurs, chewing on his bottom lip as pink dusts his cheeks, trying to figure out the words to express his want.

“yes, babyboy? what’s the matter?” you ask, voice soft and smooth as it always is when you’re talking to jisung.

the effect of the name is clear from the way jisung’s face grows more red, the pout turning into a shy smile. his hands pull away from fidgeting with his sweater to play with the hem of your top, looking up at you pleadingly.

“c-can i...can i...w-want-” jisung stammers, flushing more every time he tries to explain what he wants.

you find his shyness adorable, smiling encouragingly as he tries to find the right words to say. you decide to have a little mercy on him, not pushing for the full request like you normally might have. instead, you pull the male onto your lap, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“such a good boy aren’t you, babyboy? using your words for mommy,” you praise and he whines again softly, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “i know what you want, sungie, it’s alright”.

you pull him back slightly to tug your top off, revealing your chest. jisung’s oral fixation isn’t always sexual, sometimes just needing something to ground and calm him but with the way his hips have started moving slowly against your thigh, you know that this is more than that.

his reaction is nearly instant, looking up at you briefly for permission before leaning down and attaching his lips to your chest. his eyes flutter shut and he lets out a small content sigh, noticeably relaxing in your lap. jisung is slipping further into his space the more you indulge him, his hands wrapping around you loosely to ensure you don’t go anywhere. he’s completely enamoured, lips sealing around your nipple to suckle gently before they part and continue their previous actions.

every one of your soft moans and slight change in the gentle grip you have on his sweater spurs him on, a thin trail of saliva remaining between his lips and your chest when he pulls back briefly to switch to your other nipple. your hand occasionally runs through his hair, getting more content sighs and whines in reply.

noticing the subtle movements of his hips against your thigh, your hands move down to his hips, stilling them for a moment.

“wanna ride my thigh, babyboy?” you ask, getting an enthusiastic nod and a muffled “yes please” in response.

“always such good manners, sungie,” you smile, starting to guide his hips across your thigh, slow and steady at first.

jisung rolls his hips down, matching his pace with yours. his whines turn into high pitched, breathy moans as he grinds down, still intently suckling on your chest. as you speed up your guidance a little, a whimper slips passed his lips, pulling back from your chest momentarily. his head is resting on your collarbone, eyes barely open as he moans, the volume only increasing as you increase the speed of his hips.

“the neighbours are gonna hear you if you get too loud, babyboy, and we wouldn’t want them hearing your cute sounds, would we?” you ask, voice sweet despite the content of your words. “maybe i should gag you, hm?” you add, not expecting the loud whine and desperate nodding you get from the male on your lap.

a small stain begins forming on the front of his sweatpants, precum leaking from his cock, straining against his boxers; he’s getting close. this only increases the volume of his high-pitched moans, his hands now gripping onto anything that they can find, desperately chasing his high. his head is tossed back, lips parted as your title passes his lip in a broken whine.

“shh, gotta stay quiet, sungie,” you remind, bringing your hand up to his mouth and tapping two fingers along his bottom lip.

jisung instantly gets the message, taking the two digits into his mouth, lips sealing around them instantly like they had with your chest earlier. he sucks on the fingers, tongue swirling around them, effectively quieting his sounds.

you speed his hips up again, the male nearly collapsing against you at the immense pleasure. he’s almost there, his release so close, his cock twitching in his pants. you pull your fingers from his lips, jisung’s sounds and your title filling the room again.

“m-mommy, ‘m so so c-close. w-wanna cum, p-please mommy,” he babbles, tears starting to form in his eyes in desperation.

normally, you might edge him a little, make him wait and take it like the good boy he is but he’s been too good for you to play with him like that. he deserves a reward and you decide to be lenient with him today.

“go ahead, babyboy, you can cum,” you whisper, kissing his forehead and continuing to guide his hips quickly over your thigh.

jisung’s hips stutter and the loudest moan yet leaves his lips, eyes squeezing shut as he cums in his boxers, the stain on the front of his sweatpants growing. his body shudders, broken and breathy thank you’s leaving his lips as he comes down from his high. there’s a thin layer of sweat near his hairline, hot breaths leaving his lips in heavy pants. small whispers of praise leaving your lips as you help him through his orgasm and the aftermath, hands rubbing his sides gently.

the pants slowly turn back into slow breaths, the male curling into you once he’s calmed down a little. his eyelids are starting to droop and tired, incoherent murmurs are slipping passed his lips, a sign that he’s getting tired. you coo at his adorable behaviour, rubbing his back and kissing his temple.

“before you go to sleep, let’s get you cleaned up, okay? don’t want you to fall asleep all sticky,” you whisper, leading him to the bathroom in the apartment.

jisung yawns, tired and nearly about to fall asleep but keeps himself awake for you, loving how gentle you were when you cleaned him up. you grab a soft towel, his favourite one, beginning to wipe away the sweat then helping him change into the shorts and t-shirt he liked to wear to bed.

as you lay in bed, you feel jisung’s limbs begin to tangle with yours, a regular thing for the two of you. you’re about to drift to sleep when you hear jisung’s quiet voice, laced with sleep, call out to you.

“did i do okay?” he asks, nuzzled into your shoulder. jisung wasn’t insecure about your relationship, both in and out of bed, but it always eased his mind when he was reassured.

turning towards him, you cup his cheek, running your thumb over the skin lovingly.

“you were perfect, babyboy”.

#jisung smut #stray kids smut #han jisung smut #jisung x reader #han jisung x reader #sub!idol #sub!skz #sub!jisung #dom!reader #skz smut #jisung hard hours #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours

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lostinthewiind · 3 years

Note

Hi!!! I just wanted to say that I freaking love your cherry X Joe X Reader poly series! And its actually got me into the anime!!! I was actually wondering if you want to, write one where the female! Reader is being stalked and harassed by a co-worker at her job and she didn't want to tell Joe and cherry because she doesn't want them to worry about her too much because they already have so much on their plates. But one day, the two of them decide to pick up the her up to surprise her, flowers and everything. And they see the co-worker harassing their lover and it's up to you to determine how they would react? Can also plz make were the three of them are engaged?

Polyamorous Relationship w/ Joe & Cherry: Your Problems, My Problems, Our Problems

A/N: first of all, I'm so honoured to hear that I got you into anime :) Secondly, I can already feel that this request is going to be fun to write! I'll make sure to add an engagement fic to the series soon as well because I've been meaning to anyway. So happy that so many people seem to really like this series as much as I do.

Rating: PG13

Warnings: stalking, predatory behaviour, slightly angsty, profanity, someone who does NOT drink their 'respect women' juice

"Awh, come on, Sweetheart." Your coworker slipped into the elevator with you at the last second despite your desperate attempt to escape him at the end of the day. "Just one drink and then I'll never ask again."

You clenched your fist by your side on the opposite side of him so he wouldn't see. Mustering all of your strength, you forced a fake smile. "Sorry, I can't tonight. I've got plans with my boyfriend."

You had been dropping these not-so-subtle hints that you absolutely were not interested for months on end by now, but your coworker was either completely blinded by his persistence or was willingly ignoring them in favour of achieving his goal.

At first, when you had transferred to his floor at the company building, he had come across as nothing more than a kind mentor offering to show you the ropes. But then, bit by bit, he got pushier. 'Get to know your coworkers' dinners soon turned to just the two of you alone at a bar, which quickly turned into a situation that you found uncomfortable and ever since then, you had turned down all of his advances.

In the beginning, you had tried to make your excuses believable and turn him down nicely since he was above you in the company, but as the weeks passed and he still didn't seem to get the message, your responses got shorter and less believable. Now he was asking you out pretty much every day, multiple times a day. Sometimes he would even follow you to your car to make sure you were going home just like you said you were.

You weren't sure when it had happened, exactly, but things had gone from annoying to anxiety-inducing seemingly overnight and you had no idea what to do about it.

"You always mention this 'boyfriend' of yours," he used air quotes to make it clear that he didn't believe you, "but I've never seen him. Sure you aren't lying just to get me to go away?"

You chuckled nervously, hoping to come up with a quick answer to satisfy him for the night so that he wouldn't feel the need to tail you to your car. "No, of course not. He just has a busy work schedule as well. You know how it is."

He eyed you sternly, his gaze almost piercing. "Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight."

As soon as the elevator doors slid open on the main floor of the building, he gave a wave and exited before you and headed for the front doors. Slowly, you followed him out, and as soon as you saw him disappear into the darkness of the night, you exhaled shakily and took a moment to regain your composure.

You honestly didn't know how you managed to seem so calm and collected around him on the daily considering your heart always pounded ruthlessly against your rib cage whenever you saw him.

Once you were fully composed again, you made your way to your car as fast as possible and drove back home, knowing that seeing Joe and Cherry would immediately make you feel better; not that they knew their presence was something you relied on at the end of the day because you refused to tell them.

At first, you kept it to yourself because it seemed harmless and you didn't want them to overreact and blow up at nothing, but then, as it got worse, it just seemed like the time to tell them had passed. And the last thing you wanted to do was worry them when they both already had exhausting work lives as well.

You simply didn't want to be a burden. You were sure they dealt with annoying coworkers as well and they didn't feel the need to bother you with those stupid little problems, so you wouldn't either.

Walking through the front door of your shared apartment, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders at the sight of Cherry at his desk and Joe sitting on the couch with the television playing some show on low volume.

“I’m home,” you announced with a weary, but genuine, smile on your face. Before either of your boyfriends could utter a response, you had kicked off your shoes, made your way over to the couch, and curled up next to Joe with your face buried in his neck. His hair was wet, indicating he had just gotten out of the shower, and the smell of his shampoo and body wash calmed you instantly.

“Hey.” Joe wrapped an arm around you as he shared a quizzical look with Cherry. Usually, you would get changed, shower, and eat something before even thinking about relaxing for the night. “Everything okay?”

Realizing that you had basically announced that everything was not, in fact, okay with your unusual actions, you froze for a second. You contemplated just coming clean about everything right then and there, but before you could make a decision, the words “I’m fine” were spilling from your mouth.

“Just a long and exhausting day at work,” you followed up your lie with some details, not they they were technically false as it had been a long and exhausting day . . . just not for the reasons they thought. “I’ve been thinking about coming home to you two ever since my alarm went off this morning. Just one of those days.”

The sweet smiles that dawned Joe’s and Cherry’s faces proved that they believed you. “You hungry?” Joe pressed a kiss to your temple. “I brought home some leftovers from work again.”

Your eyes lit up and Joe chuckled. “Really?” You found yourself forgetting about your troubles in the blink of an eye.

“Really really.” Joe nodded. “I can heat some up for you if you want to shower and get changed.”

Pulling a dramatically emotional face, you faked a sniffle. “You’re the best, you know that?” You planted a big kiss to his lips before heading for the bedroom and stopping in the doorway. “You’re the best too, Kaoru,” you added for good measure so your other boyfriend didn’t feel left out before vanishing into the bedroom.

You heard Cherry scoff amusingly in the background, but by then you were in too good of a mood to throw something snarky back at him and were determined to enjoy the moment because you knew that this good feeling would disappear as soon as you started work again in the morning.

But for now, you could enjoy the comforts of your home and the two people you loved most in the world.

━━━━━━━━

As you finished your work for the day and got ready to head home, overjoyed that it was the last night you would have to work overtime for a while, you were surprised that you had managed to get through the day with little interaction or pestering from your coworker.

You didn’t want to jinx yourself or anything, but for a brief moment the thought that he had finally given up crossed your mind. Out of the corner of your eye, you scanned the office for him but he was nowhere to be seen. Sighing in relief, you gathered your things and made a bee-line for the elevator.

For once, you had managed to get through an entire day without being cornered and asked out for the millionth time.

As the elevator doors opened and you stepped out into the lobby, you spotted two familiar faces waiting for you at the front doors and you felt your heart swell with excitement. You had expected both your boyfriends to be busy tonight with work, the same as you were, so seeing them both standing there, waiting for you with flowers in hand, was a welcomed surprised.

Thinking that today was actually a good day for once, you rose your hand to wave with a grin on your face, a feeling of freedom and joy spreading through you . . . that was until you felt a hand clasp down on your shoulder. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Immediately, your good mood had vanished.

Slowly, you lowered your hand—your smile fading in the process—and turned around to face your coworker.

“Thought you could get away without me noticing?” His grin was wide and toothy, like a predator showing off its fangs to prove how powerful it was. He didn’t pay any mind to Joe or Cherry, which meant that he either didn’t know they were there for you or didn’t care.

“I’m actually in a bit of a hurry.” You gestured over to your boyfriends, hoping that the realization that your significant other was real would finally be enough to scare him off. “I’ve got plans.”

He glanced Joe and Cherry’s way briefly, but it did nothing to deter him. “Oh, so you do actually have a boyfriend. Which one is he?”

You swallowed hard. Usually, explaining the whole polyamory thing was too time-consuming so you told people you had a boyfriend and left it at that. “It’s, well . . . um . . .”

Before you were forced to answer, Joe and Cherry had noticed your discomfort from across the lobby and started making their way over. The look in Joe’s eyes gave away that he was none too pleased that your male coworker still had his hand on your shoulder.

“This must be one of your coworkers,” Cherry was the first to speak, extending his hand politely to your coworker. “Nice to meet you.”

Your coworker used his free hand to shake Cherry’s while Joe just grunted in disapproval. In a desperate attempt to escape the situation without causing a scene, you tried to shift closer to Joe but were stopped by your coworker’s hand clamping down harder on your shoulder.

“We’re the boyfriends.” Joe’s grip tightened around the bouquet of flowers he was holding as he reached out, wrapped an arm around your waist, and pulled you away from your coworker and toward him.

“Boyfriends? As in plural?” Your coworker tilted his head at you quizzically. “You never told me you had two boyfriends.”

“I never-” you started, but you were quickly cut off.

“I’m a little surprised you’re real,” your coworker said, somehow seemingly completely unfazed. “I was seriously beginning to believe she was making you up to avoid going out with me.”

You shook your head and chuckled nervously, something you found yourself doing around him a lot in order to keep the mood light. “I would never lie to you. It’s just busy schedules is all, like I said yesterday.”

“Going out with you?” Cherry cocked a brow and crossed his arms over his chest. “The woman tells you she has a boyfriend and you still insist on asking her out?”

Your coworker just laughed. “Well we used to go out all the time when she first switched departments. I thought she was just playing hard to get but I guess not.”

Both Joe and Cherry turned to you, glimmers of confusion in their eyes. “You used to go out?” Joe asked, concerned that they had just found out you had been cheating on them.

“No!” you blurted out. “Well, I mean, yes, but it was as a group of coworkers. Never just the two of us.”

“Never?” your coworker repeated. “What about those times at the bar? Did you seriously forget? That hurts my feelings, you know.”

You felt your cheeks flush red and your heart begin to pound. Suddenly, you had been backed into a corner by your past self’s naive kindness. “I didn’t know it was going to be just the two of us until I showed up,” you stated quietly. “You lied to me to get me to go.”

“Is that true?” Joe placed a finger under your chin and lifted your head to get you to look him in the eyes. You could tell he wasn’t accusing you of anything, only looking for answers.

You nodded, finally feeling brave enough to tell the truth with your boyfriends by your side. “Once I realized he was after something more, I started turning down his propositions. Then he started asking me every day . . . then he started following me to my car,” you whispered the last part, worried about what might happen if your coworker heard you say that part. “Can we please leave now?”

Noticing that your hands were shaking and your bottom lip was quivering, Joe instantly knew that you were telling the truth; no one would ever be so terrified to tell a lie like this. “Yes, of course, we can leave now.” He held you closer. “Whatever you want.”

“So you’re gonna lie and make me look like the bad guy here?” your coworker huffed, truly playing the victim card to the fullest. “I’m the asshole because I wanted to buy you a few drinks and get to know you better?”

“No, you’re the asshole for continuing to pursue her when she clearly told you no,” Cherry snapped, now just as angry as Joe was, maybe even more. “She’s kind and, because of that, probably turned you down nicely—too nicely—and you took advantage of that . . . you fucking prick.”

Your eyes widened with disbelief. Usually, Cherry was the one to remain calm in stressful or aggravating situations, but apparently not this time. You rarely heard him curse or snap, let alone at someone he met for the first time five minutes ago.

Reaching out, you grabbed hold of Cherry’s hand and squeezed lightly to catch his attention. “I really think we should leave now,” you told him.

Drawing in a deep breath and collecting himself, Cherry agreed. “Yes, you’re right, we should. We have dinner plans and it would be a waste to miss them on account of this asshole.”

“Fine, have it your way.” Your coworker finally seemed to give in, but not without hurling a few insults your way first, of course. “I shouldn’t have wasted my time on someone like you anyway. What, two boyfriends is perfectly fine but three is crossing a line? Give me a fucking break. Slut.”

You saw the rage bubbling up in both Joe and Cherry, but before they had the chance to do anything about it, your coworker had turned his nose up at the three of you, pushed his way past, and exited the building.

As soon as he was completely out of sight, they both turned to you and you felt the tears begin to well in your eyes; not necessarily because you were sad or angry, but because you were so relieved that the truth had finally come out and your coworker had finally been dealt with.

“I’m so sorry,” you spoke through gentle sobs, trying to calm down all the while. “I should have told you two about him when it all first started but I just didn’t want to burden you two with an issue that seemed so . . . so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Joe pulled you in for an almost bone-crushing hug. “You said he was following you to your car. That’s not stupid. You must have been so scared.”

“You should have told us,” Cherry agreed. “Now that I know you were dealing with that all by yourself for months, it makes me feel like a bad boyfriend. I should have picked up on the signs, like when you came home completely drained last night. I wish we could have helped you sooner.”

Wiping away your tears, you drew in a deep breath. “Thank you for coming tonight and for telling him off. I just hope he doesn’t pull anything at work tomorrow . . . he is technically my superior.”

“If he tries anything, and I mean anything, you tell us right away. Okay?” Joe insisted. “From now on, no more secrets because you want to protect us or don’t want to burden us. Your problems are our problems.”

You nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank us. It’s our job to keep you safe and be there for you.” Cherry kissed your cheek softly. “Now, I’m starving so let’s go eat, yeah?”

Suddenly, you remembered just how hungry you were. “Yes, dinner sounds lovely.”

“Speaking of lovely, these are for you.” Joe handed you the bouquet of flowers—now with slightly smushed stems from his previous anger—that he had brought.

“They are beautiful.” You took them happily and gave them a smell, the floral scent bringing your nerves down a little. “You two seriously are the best, you know that?”

“We know.”

#sk8 the infinity #lostinthewiind #sk8 joe #sk8 cherry blossom #sakurayashiki karou #nanjo kojiro #reader imagine #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #slight angst #sk8 #polyamorous relationship with cherry and joe #polyamorous #polyamory

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prettytoxicrevolver · 3 years

Text

Wedding | Corpse Husband

Requested? Nah

Warnings? None?

Summary: You and Corpse go to your best friend’s wedding together.

Word Count: 1,549

“Do I have to?” Corpse asks from across the room.

“You didn’t just ask that,” you say, turning to look at your boyfriend who’s sitting on your shared hotel bed.

“I’m sorry I’m just nervous,” he admits fiddling with his hands and you smile at your boyfriend.

You walk over to Corpse, taking his hands into yours causing him to look up at you. You trail a hand up to his chin, tilting his head up so he’s looking into your eyes.

“It’s gonna be okay I promise,” you say and Corpse nods slightly.

You lean down, pressing a light kiss to his lips and his hands find their way to your hips quickly. When you let go, you’re both smiling widely at each other and you run a hand through his hair before reaching up to fix his collar.

“Ready?” you ask, running your hands over his shoulders.

“Ready baby.”

Today, your best friend was getting married and you were beyond excited. It was such a privilege that she wanted you to be her maid of honor. You loved seeing her happy and content in a relationship and her trust restored in a man she loved.

You also got to bring Corpse, the love of your life as your date to the wedding. You couldn’t wait to finally introduce him to your friends as your boyfriend. The two of you never made it out much, Corpse aiming to keep his identity a secret which you respected no matter what.

So, for him to agree to this wedding meant everything to you. You were beyond ecstatic that he would meet some of the people closest to you and they got to meet the man who stole and repaired your heart.

When you got to the wedding, you and him headed inside the mansion that your best friend would be getting married outside of. You had to head in early to help out and Corpse would hang out around the place.

“Happy wedding day!!” you yell as you walk into your best friend’s room.

“Shut up!” she yells back jokingly before tackling you in a hug.

“I can’t believe it!” you muse as you take a seat on the couch in the room and face your best friend.

The two of you launch into the whole story, still shocked that the day was finally here. You were your best friend’s maid of honor and could watch her get married to the perfect guy. You had been dreaming about this together for years.

“Okay, I’ll be right back I’m gonna check on Corpse and then we’ll add the finishing touches,” you say to your best friend before ducking out.

You head out of the hidden room and back out to the main area where people are mingling. The mansion was open except for the upstairs area, leaving that for where your best friend would get ready.

The downstairs was open, a place for people to walk through and sign the registry, and head towards the backyard for pre-wedding drinks and eventually where the reception would take place.

You head out that way, figuring Corpse would want to grab a drink and relax away from people for a bit. You find him with ease, standing off to the side, a drink in his hand as predicted and surveying the people in front of him.

“Hi darling,” you greet walking up to him.

“Hello love,” he responds, pressing a kiss to the side of your head while slipping an arm around your waist.

“How are you doing?”

“Not too bad. A few people said hi but that’s it,” he says and you nod.

“Well it should be starting soon and I have to help her with the finishing touches but you might wanna find a seat soon okay? I’ll be the one next to the bride.”

You stand on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his lips which he happily returns. You let go and head back to your best friend.

After helping your best friend with the final touches, everything is finally set. The wedding planner grabs you two and the rest of the bridesmaids and your second-hand nerves start to kick in.

“How do I look?” she asks just before you’re about to walk out.

“Stunning. I’m so happy for you.”

The wedding planner motions you forward and you offer your best friend a wide smile before turning to walk down the aisle. The music swells around you, and you take in the beautiful scenery that surrounds the venue.

The sun is just starting to set, creating a beautiful backdrop for the altar and you gaze over the rows of seats until you see him. Surprisingly, Corpse is sitting near the front with the rest of your best friend’s family and you wonder if that’s her doing or his.

As you make your way up and stand next to the altar your eyes fall on him and the purest smile you’ve ever seen is emitted from the man. You’re certain you’re reflecting it, not being able to keep in how in love you feel.

Your best friend makes her way down the aisle and you feel a few tears fall slowly as a result. She’s elegant in her dress, and you’re surprised you’re both not bawling at this point.

The priest makes it through the formalities and offers your best friend and soon to be husband to exchange vows. As her fiancée begins to speak, you’re touched by the words prepared for your best friend.

At this point, you risk a glance at Corpse and find his eyes are already on you. You wear the same smile you had earlier but as words of love fill the air you can’t help but mouth ‘i love you’ to the man who changed your life.

Corpse smiles, mouthing ‘i love you too’ and adding a wink making you giggle quietly. The ceremony continues, and by the end, you’re practically sobbing. You watch as your best friend and her husband make their way down the aisle as a married couple and follow when it’s the appropriate time.

“I’m married!” she yells when she sees you and you run and hug her.

“You’re freaking married!” you repeat and the two of you are cackling in the mansion entryway.

“Ready for the reception?” the wedding planner asks as the two of you calm down.

“Hell yeah!”

You all make your way out and back to the backyard where the reception would take place. You know the minute you get out there you want to find Corpse, and most likely not leave his side for the rest of the night.

As you head to the back yard, you spot Corpse instantly. He sits at a table towards the back, relaxed as he surveys the scene once more. When he spots you though, a smile crosses his lips. He stands to greet you, and proceeds to wraps you up in his arms.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” he says staring down at you.

“You’ve told me a couple of times.”

The two of you sit down at the table and Corpse takes your hand in his, playing with your fingers absentmindedly. You enjoy each other’s presence as you wait for your best friend and her new husband to finally walk out.

His hands cover yours, carefully running his fingers over your hands and you’re lost in his touch as you sit together. Your eyes trail over his features as he watches his own actions, focusing on the delicate touch he leaves on your skin.

When your best friend finally comes out, the two of you turn to watch, the crowd standing to clap and greet the newlyweds. Your mind goes over the thought for a moment, if that was you and Corpse walking down and for a second you’re wishing it was. But you knew if you had to wait a thousand years for the boy in front of you you would.

“Now may the newlyweds come out and have their first dance,” the DJ announces over the speaker, and your best friend and her husband walk out onto the dance floor.

Even though you knew it was going to happen, you’re still left with tears in your eyes as Can't Help Falling in Love plays over the speakers, the version from Crazy Rich Asians.

Your best friend spins about the room, looking like a princess, and as you and her lock eyes, she gestures for you to come dance too. You place a hand over your heart, mouthing ‘me?’ and she nods.

Corpse must pick up this subtle hint first, because suddenly he’s standing and looking down at you, a soft smile placed on his lips. You look up at him, and he gestures to the dance floor making you smile wide.

You take his hand, and together you make your way over to the makeshift dance floor. Corpse circles your wait with one arm, effectively pulling you close while the other takes your hand in his. Your arm rests around his shoulder and your eyes gaze into his.

“I love you,” he says as you sway around the room.

“I love you too,” you respond and lean up to press a kiss to his cheek.

#corpse x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband #corpse x y/n #youtuber #youtuber imagine #imagine #bravebesson

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christ0pher-evans · 3 years

Text

Variety’s Actors on Actors

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader Warnings: Slight Angst / Implied Smut Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: This is my first time writing a Chris Evans fanfiction. It it loosely based off of Variety’s Actors on Actors interviews with Chris Evans and Paul Rudd / Chris Evans and Scarlett Johansson. It is pure fluff, hope you guys like it!!! Please reblog and like🖤

♡

When Variety had approached you to be involved in the ‘Actors on Actors’ style interviews, you knew that it could be really fun, a great opportunity and you felt immediate excitement for who they might pair you with.

It was only a day later when they had told you that they wanted you to do the interview with Chris Evans. Normally, any time that you got to spend with Chris, physically or virtually, was fun; however you had no idea how you could possibly interview the man when you knew all there was to know about his life and career, I mean you’d only know him 16 years, and been together for the past 6 years, leading to your past first year of blissful marriage.

You had spent the last month away from Chris due to the filming of your latest movie, and was missing him so much that your heart hurt. The thought of getting to spend a full 45 minutes doing this interview with him was making you jump for joy, because usually neither of you have enough free time simultaneously to be able to spend this length of time together. It’s often a fleeting text of “I miss you”, or a 5 minute phone call between scenes.

You had spent the past week since finding out about this interview trying to come up with interesting enough questions that the fans would want answers to. You were also thankful for Variety as they had sent you a pre-made list of questions in case you got stuck.

It was finally an hour before the interview, and you hadn’t seen Chris’ face for the past two weeks so you decided to make a bit of extra effort to look nice for him.

You were sat in front of your dressing table in your apartment that had be rented out for you whilst you were filming. Make-up was spread all over the table and you could see the reflection, several outfits littered all over your bed where you had yet to make your mind up on what to wear.

45 minutes later and you had a light brown and glittery smokey eye, a subtle winged liner with a gloss over your lips and had given yourself a bouncy blow-dry. After looking through all your outfits, you had decided on one of Chris’ oversized jumpers that you stole before you left and some jeans - even though you wanted to look really nice for him, you knew how much he would appreciate seeing you in his clothes more.

You had made yourself a coffee and set yourself up at the breakfast bar for the interview. Checking everything was set up and ready for the interview, you waited patiently with butterflies in your stomach for it to start. You were bought out of your excited daze by the noise of your phone, a message from Chris popped up.. ‘Can’t wait to see your beautiful face’ Boy, did he still make you swoon after so long together.

Not long had passed before the sound of a video call was coming through on your laptop, and as you answered, a member of the Variety team was on your screen. “Hi Y/N, it’s so lovely to speak to you and thank you so much for partaking in this interview. In a couple of minutes, we will connect you straight through to Chris and you can just start chatting and asking your questions. We will record everything from our end and then edit it together to be posted online.” “That all sounds perfect to me. Thank you so much for having me and letting me do this with my husband.” You couldn’t help but grin, it never got old getting to call Chris your husband. You absentmindedly twirled your engagement and wedding rings round your finger. “Okay, we will connect you now. Have fun!”

And then there he was, bright eyed and grinning at you through the screen.

“Hi Sweetheart.” His voice made your heart flutter and your stomach do flips. "Hi Chris, how are you?” you reply sweetly.

You made some small talk for the sake of the interview, before starting to ask each other questions. “So I have a confession to make..” you paused briefly, “I could not think of any questions to ask you that I didn’t already know the answer to, so I thought I would ask questions that I think fans would want to know the answer to.”

You grin, proud of yourself and proud of the big laugh you got out of Chris because you had come up with such a good idea. “My first question is when you first got into acting, how did you navigate the work/life balance?”

Chris took a swig of beer, pondering his answer before starting. “Well when I actually booked my first bigger film that had a busy schedule, was on the film we worked on together, so previous to that I didn’t have much of a social life” he chuckled, “But when you’re filming for maybe 12 hours a day, 6 days a week, you have to quickly find a routine that works for you where you can still show up to work every day and give 110%. I also remember we used to take naps on set in between our takes all the time.” You couldn’t help but smile as you fondly remembered the first time working with Chris. “No but seriously, when you find a script that you are passionate about, and get to work with people that are truly amazing at what they do, you are happy to dedicate as much time as you need to to get that perfect take, to eventually make that perfect film.”

“Okay, well let’s talk about Defending Jacob, which for you, was a completely different style of character for you to become. How did you prepare for that role?”

“Yeah, it was definitely a new type of role to encompass, especially off the back of playing Captain America for almost a decade, even though he was considered a serious character, it’s a completely different league to enter. I remember doing a lot of work with real life district attorneys to understand the pressure and seriousness of the job role and I remember going through lines with you every damn day.”

You zone out as Chris carries on talking about Defending Jacob as you remember the nights fondly.

————————

You had just finished clearing up dinner as Chris comes bounding back into the kitchen with his script for Defending Jacob. Placing it down on the dining room table, he turned to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Sweetheart, pretty please can we run my lines again? I’ve been thinking about how I can add more passion into my character to really emphasise his emotions in those tough scenes.”

You absolutely couldn’t say no to him. You was so proud of how much work he was putting into this show and how perfect he wanted it to be, but you also couldn’t say no to those gorgeous blue puppy eyes.

It had been 45 minutes since you started running lines, you were now sitting on the dining room table swinging your legs back and forth and you couldn’t take your eyes off Chris pacing round the table, the anger and passion in his voice as he recalled his lines. You could feel the heat pooling towards the bottom of your stomach as he ran his hand through his hair, his chest flexing as he shouted his lines, the gruff tone of his voice only making your panties wetter. You were biting your lip gently as Chris pulled you out of your daydream.

“Y/N are you alright, are you getting bored?” You shook your head quickly.

“God no, course not babe. You’re doing great, I’m just slightly distracted.”

Just like always, Chris could read your mind and knew exactly what you were thinking. He sauntered closer to you, placing himself in front of you and sliding your legs open so he could stand between them. Placing his script down, he used one finger to tilt your chin up to look him in the eyes.

“Is there something you like baby?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he called you baby and ran his finger across your bottom lip before ghosting a kiss on them. He leaned down towards you, one hand running down towards your panties as he kissed along your neck and up to your ear, before mumbling..”I think we can take a break”.

————————

You chuckled to yourself, remembering so vividly on how you both broke the dining room table that night.

“Oh, is something funny sweetheart?” Chris bought you out of your daydream. Clearing your throat, you mumbled an apology before changing the subject straight back to the interview.

“Okay, let me ask you a question now Y/N. I want to know how it feels to be like a superwoman as you managed to film and promote your latest movie whilst we were planning our wedding?”

You giggle lightly and smile broadly, remembering the chaos that was your life the six months leading up to your wedding.

“Honestly, Chris, that feels like a blur these days. Planning our wedding was much more work than filming and doing press tours, but somehow we made it work. Don’t make it sound like I did it so elegantly though, I was an absolute bridezilla those six months and I don’t know how you put up with me.” You smile at each other through the screen, remembering the fond memories of your engagement. “But in all honesty, it was just quite a strict schedule with minimal sleep. I loved filming and the press tour for my film was so much fun, as was planning our wedding so even though at the time, it felt like an impossible task, looking back and seeing how well the film did and how perfect our wedding day was, it makes the hard work worth every second.”

Your smile falters slightly at the thought of some of the more stressful times during that stretch, but quickly returns at the look of love in Chris’ eyes as he hangs onto your every word.

————————

You had spent the day at home trying to organise the seating plan for your wedding which was quickly approaching in 3 months, whilst Chris had been out all day filming.

Unfortunately before Chris came home, you had pulled your heels on, ready to walk out the door to your awaiting car to take you to your latest movie press panel. A sad sigh was all you managed before you hauled yourself out the door for the 2 hour interview with your cast mates.

The panel had finished at 9pm and you had jumped straight back in the car, so the driver could take you home to Chris, silently hoping you could catch him for a bit before he went to bed. You knew he would be calling it a night quite early as you had woken up to his side of the bed empty and cold that morning, meaning he had left the house before sunrise. You felt a sudden pang of sadness about how little time you’d spent with your fiancé over the past 3 months. It was no ones fault, you were both busy but it felt like you were actively avoiding one another. You shook your head as a few tears fell.

As a welcome distraction on the way home, you had opted to start looking at flower arrangements for the bridesmaids bouquets, but you could feel yourself drifting in and out of consciousness, feeling so tired and drained from months of final filming and wedding planning.

It was just after 10:15pm as you stepped out the car, thanking the driver before heading up the path to your house. You could see the lights were off, bar the hallway light that Chris had left on for your arrival home. You sighed sadly as you stepped in the door to the quiet abyss. You removed your heels, not wanting to make any unnecessary noise, knowing that Chris was up just as early tomorrow.

Walking through to the kitchen, you could see Chris had left you some pizza takeout on the side but you didn’t have the energy to eat, just wanting to curl up in bed.

Heading straight into the ensuite to your bedroom, you quietly took off your make-up and cleansed your face to hide your tear-stained cheeks. Creeping back into the bedroom, you stood looking in the mirror of your dresser as you put on one of Chris’ t-shirts; you looked defeated and utterly glum. As you stood there for a moment longer, trying to collect your emotions and bottle them away, you heard Chris stir.

“Babe, come to bed.”

You felt your shoulders relax at the rough sound of his sleepy voice. Quickly wiping under your eyes once more, you turned round to see him holding the duvet up so you could crawl under and into his waiting arms.

Immediately relaxing into the mattress, goosebumps arose on your skin as Chris trailed his fingers up your side to pull you into him. You let yet another tear fall from your eye at the fact that this was the first time you’d actually seen him today, frustrated that work and wedding planning was taking up all your time. This didn’t go unnoticed by Chris as he caught the lone tear with his finger, wiping it away.

“I just want our wedding to be perfect and my movie to do well without having to sacrifice all my time with you” you whimpered, hiding your face in Chris’ chest.

“Sweetheart, I’m marrying you, it will all be perfect. Get some sleep, I love you.” Chris gave you a kiss on your forehead before falling straight to sleep, you dozing off straight after him, with heart full of love.

————————

The interview was coming to an end and you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness of getting to spend so much time talking to Chris but also dread of not knowing when you would get to see his face again before you finally got to go back home in a months time.

“Okay sweetheart, I have one last question and it is one that Variety suggested for both of us to answer. What is the best part about being married to someone in the same profession as you?” You smile at Chris through the screen, trying to think of only one thing to pick.

“Well, it is difficult to pick one, because there are so many great reasons but also it is really hard being married to someone in the same profession as you. I always try to be honest with our fans and in interviews, so I don’t want to sugarcoat it. We have to go long periods of time not getting to see each other and always having such high pressured schedules doesn’t allow a lot of time for married life.” You sigh at the look of sadness that has washed over both your faces. “However I count my lucky stars every day for having such a supportive and understanding husband like you.” You notice Chris blush at your answer before nodding along with you, agreeing with what you’ve said.

“I have to agree with you sweetheart. There is definitely some poetic justice in the fact that we met on set, both doing the job we love so fondly and here we are, 16 years later, married and getting to celebrate our achievements every single day together.”

You have to told back the tears as the interview finishes and Chris disappears from your screen. Even though you have demanding jobs, you could not feel luckier to be married to a man like Chris and you couldn’t wait to go back home to him.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans one shot #chris evans smut #fanfiction #angst #marvel #pov

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ieattaperecorders · 3 years

Text

May You Find Your Rest

Somewhere else. Two men who were not born in this reality lie in bed together, hold one another and unpack a few things. (Just 4k of cuddling and talking about feelings, really.)

Read on Ao3

---

It's dark in the small, quiet room where they sleep. Not completely, neither of them feels entirely safe in the dark anymore, so the curtain is always parted to let a sliver of light in.

Curled against Martin, Jon is warm and still and finally thinking of nothing. He's just starting to drift off when he feels him reach over and plant light, careful kisses on his cheek, on his temple, on the top of his brow. He sighs with pleasure. It would be so easy to keep drifting, to let himself sink into sleep as the one he loves kisses him softly and sweetly. But instead he opens his eyes, not really knowing why he does it.

Maybe it's the way Martin moves, slow and deliberate. Maybe there's a subtle a hitch in his breathing, something Jon senses without seeing or understanding. Something that tells him he shouldn't go to sleep. Not yet.

So he lies listening to the silence as Martin's hand moves over his side, outlining him. It nudges itself under the hem of his nightshirt, tracing the softness of his waist. Then, as if this hadn't been its destination all along, it brushes the wide, ragged scar over his stomach. A twinge (not sharp, not much more than a tingle) runs through his body. His breathing barely changes – it's not a gasp, just a slightly deeper inhalation. But Martin notices, hand hesitating, drawing back.

"Does it hurt?" he asks, and he sounds so horribly solemn.

"Not really," Jon says quietly. "Just a little sensitive. Scar tissue."

Gently, he places a hand over Martin's and presses it down into his abdomen, until it's covering the center of the scar. Jon has scars that are sensitive in other ways. Martin has learned to be careful around the thin line that cuts across his throat. Knows there are days when the chewed circles that pockmark his body itch uncontrollably, when he'll scratch himself bloody if he isn't thinking.

(In the safehouse, Martin had pulled the hand from his face and whispered don't. Had kissed his scars over and over, until he couldn't feel the itch, could only feel the gentle pressure of his lips and his kindness and love.)

He wants to say, it doesn't hurt when you touch me here. To show Martin that his body won't flinch from his touch. It wouldn't be his fault if it did. It wouldn't be either of their faults. But it doesn't, and he needs him to know that.

The hand relaxes against him. It moves in a slow arc, finding the edges of the wound, mapping and knowing it. Jon keeps his own hand in place, letting it move with his.

"I'm sorry," Martin says.

Jon brings a hand to his cheek. "So am I."

He wonders what Martin is apologizing for. For cutting the tether, letting them out? For the wound that could only be made by his hands? For not being able to let him go? No . . . Jon doubts he would be sorry for that.

Maybe it isn't an apology at all . . . maybe he's just sorry. Sorry he had to be hurt again.

"So am I," he repeats. "But it's done. We're here, now. Together, and alive. Despite it all."

Martin's head rests on the pillow, gaze turned to the side. He's subdued in a way that feels meaningful but that Jon can't identify. So he says nothing, lies still and lets his hand trail up the side of Martin's face, over his temple, around his ear. Affectionate touch, easier and less confusing than the jumble of words and questions swarming in his brain.

After a long silence, Martin says, "I wish you had trusted me."

" . . . What do you mean?"

"In the Panopticon. I just wish you'd trusted me enough to go along with the plan."

Jon frowns. "I . . . don't know if that was about trust."

"Wasn't it, though?"

"I didn't do what I did –" he pauses, rephrases. "I didn't kill Jonah because I thought you were lying, or going to betray me, or – or controlled by spiders. I didn't think your intentions were anything other than what you said. But I couldn't bear the thought of what we were doing . . . or I thought I couldn't. Clearly I could. In the end."

"Yeah. Well. Turns out both of us did things we didn't think we could," Martin says bitterly, thumb still tracing the scar.

"Funny how often that happens."

"You could have trusted that I knew what I was doing."

"But you didn't. None of us did . . . no one could in that situation."

"That includes you, you know," Martin frowns. "You kept going on about all you knew, but even you said you weren't unbiased. You don't think maybe the idea that the only way out was global euthanasia had anything to do with your own baggage?"

Another twinge, sharper this time. Without realizing, he'd pressed Martin's palm down harder than he should have, in where the nerves were still healing. He eases off.

". . . Maybe," he says eventually. "Probably. I doubt any of us were unbiased. How could we be?"

"But it was your biased plan you decided to go with. Like you always do. You always think you know better than everyone else--"

"I don't think that's entirely fair."

"It's not entirely unfair either."

He feels something stirring defensively in him. Then he stops. Assesses. "No," he says eventually. "I suppose it's not."

The hand is warm against his stomach, and he can feel the dampness of sweat just forming between their skins. It's not pleasant or unpleasant, just something he can feel, and he focuses on it for a while.

"You didn't trust me either, you know," he senses an objection coming, and he heads it off. "You were right not to. I wasn't trustworthy. You thought that I would go behind your back, and I did."

The tension that was rising deflates a little at the admission, and Martin's voice is gentle when he says, "you did."

"But I don't think you were lying when you said you trusted me." Jon adds. ". . . Do you?"

" . . . Fine, I get it. Trust is complicated and all that," Martin sighs, "it just. It hurts."

". . . I'm sorry."

Martin nods, is still for a moment, then leans forward and kisses him once. He kisses back.

"Do you regret it?"

"Which part?"

"Killing Jonah. Not waiting for us. Trying to go the other way."

Jon thinks of the hours before it happened. Of whimpering into Martin's chest, almost pleading, begging him to see. Horribly aware that Martin was as deeply set in his feelings as Jon, that there would be no budging for either of them.

He thinks of the moment he spent watching Martin's sleeping form, just before he climbed those stairs. Seeing his brow creased with unquiet dreams, and knowing that he was about to hurt him. He thinks of the terror, the dawning horror that fell over him as he saw what it all had been leading to.

"I don't know," he finally says. "I regret the pain you went through . . . I regret making you feel that."

There's a curved line trailing over Martin's forehead, just above his eye, which Jon follows with the edge of his thumb. The one on his shoulder is larger, took ages to heal, and there are more that travel down his back and arms. Places where the rubble struck him, before they both unraveled.

The scars aren't really what Jon is referring to when he talks about pain. But he supposes they're a part of it too.

". . . Do you?" he asks.

"Do I what?"

"Regret any of it?"

"I'm not sorry that I didn't let you stay in that tower and kill the entire world, if that's what you mean," he says firmly. "I'm sorry, but I'm never going to regret that."

"No . . . I wouldn't expect you to."

"I wouldn't have told the others to start if I'd known you'd already done it. But if I'd known that . . . that would've been it, right? We'd be stuck there."

"Unless the others went behind both our backs."

"What, you think Melanie wanted to stick a knife in you that badly?"

"I don't know about wanted. But I think Basira could have done it."

"Yeah . . . maybe."

". . . I'm sorry that I went behind yours."

Martin breathes into the space between their bodies, a long and expressive exhale. "I know. . . And I know you were hurting. And scared. I do know that."

"We both were."

"Yeah. Yeah . . ." he sighs. "I forgive you for it. I do. I don't want to hold onto that."

Jon finds Martin's hand in the dim light, pulls it closer to himself and kisses it. He hesitates – not sure if he should say this, should even acknowledge it – before linking their fingers together and pulling the hand back to his stomach, over the place where the knife went in.

"I don't need to forgive you for this. That is – I, I don't believe there's anything to forgive? It was what you had to do, and it was what I asked for. But . . ." he pauses, hesitates. "I know guilt can be an insidious emotion--"

"Oh, do you?" the lilt of sarcasm does not go unnoticed. Jon ignores it.

"–And I want you to know . . . if you feel like you need to be forgiven for it, you are. Entirely and unconditionally."

Martin nods, moving his hand off the scar and over around Jon's side. As he leans in for another kiss he grips him a little more firmly, his touch seems less hesitant and Jon is glad that he said something after all.

"Anyway, I was right, wasn't I?" Martin says after a moment. "We're here. We're in another world, and things are fine. It's normal. Maybe the fears are here, but it's not an apocalypse. Maybe it never will be."

That makes Jon frown. "You don't know that."

"Neither do you."

"And we never will," he says firmly. "We won't ever know the cost of what we did. Maybe it balances out. Maybe it doesn't. Either way, you and I won't have to feel it."

"At least it's normal here. You're not even an avatar," Martin says, and Jon nips back the impulse to quibble about the nature of that term. "You haven't been having the dreams, and you haven't needed a statement since we got here."

". . . I'm still feeding the Eye." It isn't until he sees the look of confusion on Martin's face that it occurs to Jon he didn't already know. "I don't have the power I once had, or the same needs," he explains. "But I feel it sometimes, using me as a conduit. It's as if the signal's fainter, but the receiver is so much more sensitive."

"Do you know it's happening, though, or are you just guessing?"

"I'm not sure how it happens, exactly. Maybe it just grazes off the fear I witness when I see something terrible on the news, or pass by someone in distress. Maybe in time it'll push me to seek out more, to force myself into other peoples' tragedies in service of the Beholding. Or maybe it never will, and I'll stay this way for the rest of my life."

Martin's brow furrows, and his voice is insistent, pushing back with some need Jon can't quite understand. "Okay, but it's not like you're actually hurting people--"

"No . . . I am," he says firmly. "And I am certain of that. It might be more subtle now . . . a lingering feeling of invasion, or paranoia. Or a trauma that would have otherwise passed leaving a decades-deep mark." He stares thoughtfully at his own thumb. "It feeds through me, and I give it strength. On some level, my existence still depends on the suffering of others. That's one consequence we can't avoid."

Martin is quiet for a long while. ". . . Guess it doesn't matter, right?" he finally says. "It's done. Can't undo it."

"No. Not any of it." He shakes his head. "It's funny, really. All my paranoia and suspicion, all my worry that the Web would slip an agent in under our nose, and the whole time I was looking in the wrong place. Seeing and seeing and never understanding."

"What do you mean?" Martin fidgets, and Jon wonders if he's said something he shouldn't have, though he can't guess what. "Looking in the wrong place?"

"I mean myself. The mark when I was a child. The lighter I could never remember. Even the tapes they sent to press on my wounds, keeping that anger fresh. All of it leading to that moment."

". . . Oh." Martin sighs. "Yeah, Jon. They manipulated you, that's what they do. They manipulated all of us."

"They did. And I was more theirs than I ever realized."

He feels Martin's fingers tapping against his side, thoughtful. After a moment, he speaks. ". . . She said that about me, too. Annabelle. That I was suited to the Web, or something."

"I imagine she'd say anything she knew would rile you up."

"She was right, though. At least a little bit . . . ." he takes the edge of Jon's sleeve between his fingers, twisting and fidgeting with it. "When we were down there, waiting, I could feel you coming through the web. The vibrations just spoke to me, I knew Basira was with you even before I saw her."

That surprises Jon. Startles him, even. He feels Martin fidget again, and in his mind he plays back what do you mean, looking in the wrong place. Notices the quiet nervousness in his voice. Considers how deep and old Martin knows his hatred of the Mother of Puppets to be.

"I always knew," he says, voice light and casual, "that there had to be a reason you'd defend anything as vile and repugnant as the common house spider."

Hearing Martin laugh, feeling that tension release in a sudden startled lungful – it's beautiful, it's a victory, and he smiles as Martin nudges into his shoulder. Halfway between a gesture of affection and a headbutt.

"Arsehole," he mutters. "It's not just that. I know I'm . . . well, I'm not always great at being direct. And maybe I can sometimes be passive-aggressive . . . ."

"Well—"

"You don't have to agree with me."

". . . Right."

"But that's sort of Web stuff, isn't it? And I – I was always good at telling Peter what he wanted to hear. I know why she said what she did."

"Mmm." Jon lifts Martins' fingers from where they're worrying at his sleeve, rolls them between his own. "You've learned that it's safer to nudge and suggest than to be direct. To make yourself look smaller than you are. I can see the . . . thematic overlap, I suppose. Imagine it drawing the attention of the Spider."

". . . Does that bother you?"

"Well I'm not worried you're some spider-controlled double agent," he says, then adds something under his breath.

". . . What was that last bit?" Martin lifts his head.

"Nothing."

"Did you just mutter ‘anymore?!"' he asks incredulously.

"My point is, we call to them in countless ways, often without knowing or wanting to," he sighs. "Besides . . . I'd hardly be in a position to judge. They had their strings on me from the start."

"That makes you a victim of them. Not an agent or an avatar."

"Martin . . . ."

"Don't ‘Martin' me, I'm right."

"Do you really think the two are incompatible? Being a victim of a power, and being a channel through which it feeds on others? After all you've seen?" his voice softens. "After all you've been through . . . after the Lonely?"

Martin goes quiet. Jon runs his fingers over his shoulder, absently stroking.

"In the end, I chose to be theirs. With it all falling down around us, I saw what they'd known I would do from the very beginning. I witnessed my fate laid out for me and instead of defying it, I ran towards it."

". . . You still regret it, don't you? Letting them out."

"I don't know, Martin. Truly, I don't," he says. A smile starts, then dies on his lips. "There's so much I regret nowadays, it's honestly hard to keep steady how I feel about most things."

A vague, hmm sound, an expression of some emotion that Jon can't guess at, though he suspects that wasn't what he'd wanted to hear. He brings both his hands up, cupping the sides of Martin's face between his palms. Martin startles, but says nothing.

"Most," Jon says, looking back at him seriously. "But I know how I feel about you. That doesn't change. And I don't regret staying with you."

The beginnings of tears form in Martin's eyes, and there is quiet in the room as Jon brings his face to his. Brushing a soft kiss over his mouth, the trails on his cheeks, the space above each closed eye. He doesn't stop until Martin shudders, swallows, and speaks again.

"I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too," Jon says. "And I'm glad that I'm here. I'm glad we're together and alive . . . whatever else comes with that."

Martin shudders again, a weak and pained sound coming out of him. It's all Jon can do not to pull Martin's face into his chest and let out a thousand desperate apologies, to self-flagellate, to beg forgiveness for ever allowing any pain to come to him. He sensibly quiets that urge, because he knows it's the last thing Martin needs. It's the last thing either of them need.

"Do you promise?" Martin whispers.

"Promise what? That I love you?" Silence follows, and Jon frowns, confused. ". . . I do promise that, if that's what you mean."

Instead of answering, Martin silently reaches between them, fumbling for Jon's hand and squeezing it tightly.

"Some nights I pretend to sleep," he says after a pause. "Or, well. Pretend's too strong a word . . . I just lie quietly in bed. But I'm waiting for you to fall asleep first."

Jon's fairly sure he lost the thread of this conversation, and he doesn't know where or how. ". . . Why?"

"Because I'm scared I'll wake up and find you gone."

"Oh. Oh, Martin . . . ."

"I don't-- it's not that I really think--" he shakes his head, "just sometimes can't let go of the thought of it, and it scares me." A wry smile crosses his face. "Which power feeds on that, you think?"

"I mean –"

"Not actually looking for an answer, Jon," he sighs, a mixture of affection and irritation. "Anyway, I think we both know which one it'd be."

He nods. Holds Martin's hand, rubbing the knuckle of his thumb. "I don't know what I can say . . . I can tell you that I won't leave, that I'll be here when you wake up. But I don't suppose that helps unless you can--" he hesitates, not wanting to say trust. It's starting to feel like a deeply troublesome word, both imprecise and emotionally weighted, the sort Jon tends to despise. ". . . believe me?"

"I don't actually think you're going to just vanish in the night someday. It's hard to explain."

"It's unlikely that we'll live to see another ritual for me to be the apocalyptic tipping point of."

"There's still more . . . ordinary things."

"Don't tell me you think I'm going to run off with one of the locals?" He raises his eyebrows, smiling, lets a teasing superiority into his voice. As if he considers the people of this reality to be below their station.

Martin doesn't laugh or smile. He gives him a look, like he's being stupid on purpose. Jon half wants to tell him it's completely involuntary.

"You don't need a bottomless coffin or an all-seeing eye to run off and martyr yourself. People do it with their own hands every day."

And now he understands. Now the thread comes back, winding itself directly around his throat.

". . . Come here," he says, though there are scant inches between them. Martin does so anyway, fitting himself into the space between Jon's arms, head tucked into his collar, legs twining with his. Jon's hands run over his shoulders, through his hair, down his back. He kisses the crown of his head over and over, pouring it all into touch and action until he can find the strength for words again.

"I love you," he whispers. "I'm not going to leave. Not that way . . . not in any way I have control over."

"Seeing his body there next to you . . . it felt like when I was coming back from the shop, and the sky went dark, and the ground started reaching and –" he swallows. "E-everything had gotten so horrible but we finally had a way out, a chance to start over. And then it was just gone again."

And Jon's heart is breaking, and he's afraid if he speaks he's going to start crying, but he can't be silent after that. So he tries.

"I'm so sorry . . . ."

"I know . . . I know." Martin sniffs. "It's not . . . I'm not looking for that. Honest. I just . . . ."

He goes quiet for a while.

"I know you were in pain," he continues. "The night before it all happened. I know – I knew that it was killing you, what we were about to do. It wasn't that I didn't care. But I told myself that someday – even if it wasn't right away, someday you'd be glad we'd done this. Because there'd be a someday."

". . . Maybe I would have been."

"And maybe you wouldn't have. I didn't know. I don't know. We'll never know. But I know you were hurting, and that's just it. Because I also know it . . . s-still hurts."

"I couldn't do that to you."

"We've both done things we thought we couldn't do," Martin says humorlessly.

"Right . . . I take your point."

"I know you feel guilty," Martin whispers, "and you – you just said that while you're alive others are suffering –"

". . . Yes."

"I know how tempting it can be. To just give in to it."

"I know you do."

"So . . . ."

Martin trails off, helpless. Jon feels helpless too. He clumsily feels for Martin's hands and brings them up against his own chest.

"Whatever else I feel, I promise you that I'm glad I'm alive," he says, holding their hands over the place where his heart still beats, steady and warm and living. "Even when it's difficult to bear it all, I'm glad that I'm alive and with you. I want to build a life together, here and now, more than anything. To take whatever chance we've got."

He wonders what Martin is looking for as his eyes trace over his face. Whatever it is he seems to find it, or maybe just trusts that it's there, because he takes a shuddering breath and nods.

". . . I believe you," he says.

"Thank you," Jon breathes deep, feeling the sharp heat behind his eyes fade as he blinks his own tears away. "And . . . I can hope that we made the right choice. Really it's all either of us can do, anymore."

"True."

They lie together in the silence. Martin slides his arms around Jon's sides, resting his head against his chest, and Jon feels the rhythm of his pulse next to his ear. His body is heavy and real, meat and bone, tangled up together with one that he loves. He feels the heat of Martin's breath as he sighs, the gentle weight, the tickle of hair, the hard ridge of skull beneath it. Abject, bloody systems of life.

". . . Martin?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you . . . for coming back."

In the dark he feels a smile against his body. ". . . Which time?"

"Any. All."

"I always will," he whispers. ". . . Thank you for staying."

"That's the deal."

"Yeah. . . yeah." Martin lets out a long, steady sigh. "That's the deal"

Jon feels Martin's limbs relax around him, grip loosening as eyes tiredly close. He twines his fingers through Martin's hair, stoking softly and sweetly as his beloved drifts. Jon doesn't close his eyes just yet, instead watches the face that rests against him slowly go slack in the moonlight. Thinking that maybe tonight, Martin will fall asleep first.

#jonmartin #tma #tma spoilers #tma finale #tma fanfic #me every time i post a new fanfic:#oh no THIS is the most self-indulgent one #every other *cuddling and talking about feelings* fic was dignified and okay #but THIS ONE oh nooooo

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

Chris lying on top of someone getting cuddles plz Ash I beg of you

Follows on Time Apart, It Doesn’t Work As Well As You’d Hoped, and Learn to Fly

Their heartbeat is slow and steady underneath his ear, and his eyes close, letting himself dwell in the sound. His fingers twist in their shirt, relax, twist and relax, rubbing his thumbs over the seams of their binder underneath.

They hum, softly, a tuneless sound very nearly like his own, and that’s like drifting in a warm sea, floating on saltwater and feeling the sun on his skin. Their fingers gently move through his hair, blunt bitten nails not quite scratching his scalp, just rubbing with their fingertips.

The coffeeshop is quiet around them, emptied-out except for the two baristas who speak in low voices under the whirring of the espresso machine, handing drinks out the drive-thru window, bags of cookies and cannoli, a scone or three. They don’t ask if Chris and Laken need anything more.

They know that the need, as it stands now, isn’t for the coffee that’s gone cold in both their cups. It's for the space to have their quiet together, after time apart.

The rain pours, outside, a soft and subtle rush, like blood pulsing through the veins of the world. Blood goes into and out of the human heart, water goes up to the atmosphere and then back to earth. It’s the same.

The earth breathes.

So does Laken.

Chris, like a bird with wings open to the wind to rise, listens to it.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Laken murmurs, without pausing in the soft rhythm of their fingers. “Or of what happened to you, or of what it means for us. My future is with you, that hasn’t changed. I’ve never been afraid of you, Chris. Afraid for you a couple of times, sure, but never of you.”

“I’ll freeze up,” Chris says back, voice low. The music that plays over the speakers switches in a wild, odd swing between the sort of instrumental jazz Chris is used to and the occasional bouncy 80’s pop song. He wonders, in a detached way, which of the baristas has their iPod plugged in to the speakers. “Every, um. Every time. I can’t-... I can’t, can’t stop it right away. Ever.”

“I know,” Laken says. They’re on their back on the back, shoulders propped against the arm of the couch, head tipped back a little towards the ceiling. Chris lays on top of them, his own feet up on the couch’s arm at the other side, the soles of his worn-out slip-on shoes pointing up. His fingers run over the thick, smooth binder fabric under their t-shirt, back and forth, back and forth. His fingers skim along the edge where the black of the binder meets the skin over their lower ribs.

He mirrors the movement of their hand through his hair without realizing it.

“You, you, you shouldn’t-... someone who, um, who can’t... I'm, I'm fucked up, Laken."

“No one gets out of this life without some dings, baby,” Laken says, and their hand slips down, cups his jaw and gently encourages him to look up as they look down to meet his eyes. Theirs, always, are pools so deep and dark he can’t tell iris from pupil. Some of the long part of their hair falls forward, framing their face. “Nobody. Yours are a little rougher than some others, but I’ve got mine, too, you know? I love you, dings and all. We're fucked up but we're fucked up together."

“You don’t freeze.”

“No. I throw punches. And trust me, it’s not always the right response. Even if it feels good in the moment.”

“I, I, I wish I could fight.”

“You did.” Laken sighs, a low soft exhale, and he listens to the sound it within them as well as without. “You pushed her away. You said so yourself. You pushed her away and said no.”

“Not, not right away.”

“God, Chris. You’re even braver for fighting when your body is screaming at you not to. It’s not thoughtless, for you, like it is for me sometimes. You have to push past years of hurt in a couple of seconds. That’s big.”

“It, it, it feels… small.”

“Well, it’s not.” The firm matter-of-factness of their tone makes him smile, secretly, turning his head briefly so the expression is made against their sternum, the warmth of their skin that settles under his own.

“I’m going to to to to, um, to make, it, it harder on you,” He says, looking back up at them. He doesn’t like to look right into people’s eyes, never has, but it’s not so bad with them. Sometimes. And he knows they’ll let him look away when it’s too much. “You know? You, you should… you should maybe find someone else.”

“I should be there for the man I love,” Laken says, voice getting a little softer. There’s a clatter of metal steam-cups over by the counter, the baristas rinsing everything out during this slow time, when the nearly-overwhelming rain means no one is getting out of their car right now.

The two old men - Mr. Malley and Mr. Cilly - have gone back to their homes. It’s nearly lunchtime, and Chris’s stomach feels a little hollowed. He’ll get a scone in a little while, maybe. If he remembers.

“But... everyone who loves me dies, gets hurt, gets gets gets lost,” Chris whispers, feeling a sharp twist inside him. A grief and pain that was wiped away, pushed down by drugs but never fully destroyed. It rises in a wave to break against him, as if they have only just died, the two of them. His mother’s eyes fading as she told him it would be okay, in the end. His father had already been gone.

“That’s a goddamn lie,” Laken says, and there’s an insistence even in their half-whisper. “Jake’s still here. Nat’s still here. Antoni’s still here, Kauri’s still here. I’m still here. Hell, those weird old dudes seem to care about you and they’re still here, aren’t they?”

“But, but, but when I, when I tell everyone-”

“I’ll be right fucking there. Wherever you want me.”

“Everyone will know what I am.” They’re silent, but he can feel their correction behind their lips, barely held back, and he smiles, just a little. “Okay, okay. What I, um, what, what I had to do.”

“If that’s what you want to do, I support you. And I’m not turning away just because you’re doing something amazing, even if it’s dangerous.” They run a finger along his jaw, and their smile is bright, their teeth just slightly crooked in a way Chris loves. “I told you. My future is with you, and that’s a choice I made like a month after you said that you loved me the first time. I knew it was me and you, Chris. Whatever stands in our way, we’ll get through it.”

Chris blinks at them, thinking, and then his own smile widens. It’s still a little trembling, a little hesitant… but stronger. “Blow, um. Blow it apart and go through the wreckage.”

“What?” Laken blinks back at him.

He shakes his head, smiling and laying his ear back down over their heart, looking out the window at the driving rain. It’s made puddles in the parking lot, and he sees a bright white and red polka-dot umbrella as someone makes a mad dash for their car from the bookstore a few doors down.

“My mom,” He says, softly. “My, um. Mr. Malley said… my mom would, um, would would do that. If she couldn’t get over something, or around it, she’d… she’d she’d she’d go through it. Knock it it it it it down or, or, or, um, blow it up."

“Then let’s make like your mom,” Laken says, softly. “And blow WRU to bits and walk right through whatever’s left of their bullshit and build our life there. Take their wreckage and make a statue out of it. Or a hammer. Which we will then bash them with."

He laughs, against them, and they laugh, too.

He's missed the sound of their laughter so much.

When their hand moves down, he grabs onto it. Their fingers are warm, as always. Warm and dry, the perfect counterpoint to the weather. They press a kiss to his hair and he lets his eyes close, enjoying the feeling.

“Do, um. Do do do do you want to meet her?”

“Who?”

“My mom. And, um, I guess, I guess my dad, too. I I I I know where they are, now. Where they’re… they’re buried.”

Laken inhales sharply. “Since when?”

“Akio, um, told me. Do, do you want to… meet them?”

“Sure.” Laken hesitates, then adds in a kind of nervous feigned humor, “What if your mom doesn’t like me?”

Chris thinks of the woman in his mind, still fuzzy around the edges and with a voice he can only remember when he isn’t thinking too much about it. Dark hair and a bright laugh, holding him tightly when he needed it and letting him run when he needed that instead. The woman who went to every single practice and meet, who had been so excited for him to qualify for the national elite team alongside Akio. He can almost see her clearly, if he keeps his eyes closed and forces his way around the headache that still tries to push her back into the light.

“I think,” He murmurs, “She, she, she, she would have liked you. A lot. And and and and probably been mad it took me so, um, so so so long to bring you by."

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears

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waatermelon-sugaar · 3 years

Text

Take Care of Me

Pairing = Santiago x reader

Words = 5.5k

Summary = A discussion about sex toys turns into something more … concrete

Warnings = Swearing, talk/description of mild anxiety. SMUT (18+ only), use of handcuffs in a sexy way, oral, piv sex

A/N = Prompt no.8 requested by @itspdameronthings as part of my 300 follower celebration, thanks so much, hope you like it! Prompt was “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself” w/santi and bolded in text. Also 3 things; 1 = Tom doesn’t exist in this AU, 2 = this is basically pure smut im so sorry, and 3 = I did do head hopping in this, which I know you’re not like supposed to do but also fuck the rules y’know?

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

It’s always easy to be loose after one of Benny’s fights.

It’s a heady mix of adrenaline, beer and testosterone, swirling together into a mix that makes you forget your normal boundaries. You’re normally quite brazen about your sex life anyway, but there is a line. You respect your partners, and there’s no need for your teammates to know too much.

You’re all packed into a half-moon booth, Benny straddling a chair that he pulled up to the table after he spent too long chatting up the bartender.

It’s a small comment from Benny (because of course it’s Benny), saying that you haven’t got laid in a while, and you’re honestly surprised he noticed. But then, that’s the only predictable thing about Benny, that he is unpredictable.

Your surprise means you take a little too long actually thinking about it, which confirms Benny’s statement. You lean back a little in your seat, desperately ignoring Santi, who’s sat to your left. It also means you bite back a little harder in defence.

“Well maybe if you guys didn’t look like you’re about to murder anyone who even dares ask for my number maybe I’d have better luck.” That’s a lie, but there’s no way you’re going to tell them the truth. No way you’re going to tell Santi-

Your thoughts are interrupted by Will, sat to your right. “So you’re asking for our help?”

You scoff, hitting him up the head. “No, thank you.” Will knows why. Because of course he does. One of your oldest friends, he’d been the one who convinced you to join the team in the first place. “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself.”

You send a wink down to the table to Benny, who’s the first to catch on, hollering, and you try not to react to Santi leaning forward, suddenly interested, as though you’re not already hyper-aware of every body movement of his.

You continue, deciding you’re quite enjoying the effect you’ve had. “What do I need some stranger for when I can give myself a better orgasm than he could ever dream of?” You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin, as both Benny and Will holler, gaining a few glares from the pub’s other patrons.

That sip means you’re unprepared for Santi to lean in closer to you, his lips so close to your ear that you can feel his breath. “Maybe ‘stranger’ is where you’re going wrong.”

You swallow, unprepared for the sudden flare of attraction shooting through you and turning your head, just as he says, “I could take care of you.”

You catch a glimpse of Santi’s fuck me eyes when Benny (the dickhead) interrupts. Crossing his arms on the sticky table in front of him, he asks, “Does that mean you have toys?”

Frankie’s hat somehow tips lower on his head, if that’s possible.

Will twitches towards his brother, like he wants to strangle Benny for being so uncouth, but you put your hand on his upper arm. “Of course.” The best course of action is to just act like this is normal, so add a bit of air to your voice. This was normal. “Who doesn’t?”

There’s a blush rising on Benny’s cheeks and you can’t help but stoke it, grinning at him, and attempting your best bedroom eyes. He’s still not too ashamed to ask though. “What kinds?”

Will decides he’s had enough, glancing at Santi behind you with a frown and hitting Benny over the head in an imitation of the way you’d hit him. You laugh, unexpectedly pleased at the reaction you’ve gotten. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Benny nods, eager, even as Will stands, grabbing a hold of him, and steering him towards the bar. “Yes! Yes I would!” He manages to throw back at you and you laugh again, twisting your body to face Santi and Frankie, bringing your left leg onto the bench.

***

Meanwhile Santiago is in hell. He’s been in multiple hellish situations before, most similar to this one, in that it was always the 5 of you, bullets flying around your heads, rifles in your arms, weighed down by heat and sweat and tac vests.

And yet somehow, he thinks this might be the worst. Your foot next to his thigh, your knee bent, pulling your jeans up your leg and exposing your ankle to him. Watching you flirt with Benny, talking about sex, and toys, and masturbation. When that's all he wants to do with you. He just has to get the courage to tell you.

With you, there was a before in Santi’s life, and an after.

Before he knew you; and after he knew you.

Before he loved you; and after he loved you.

Except Santi’s not quite sure when he fell in love with you.

It started when Will introduced you as the newest member of the team, one of his childhood friends. He didn’t mean for it to happen, he treated you like he treated anyone else, quickly discovering that you weren’t like anyone else.

He welcomed you into his life with open arms, starting off innocently - he wanted to spend time with you. You were Will’s friend, which meant that there must be something good about you. You made him laugh, made him feel safe (even when he wasn’t). He’d wanted to do the same for you and thought he did a pretty good job.

He became your friend, until one day the two of you were watching a film. He can’t remember what it was, just that you were at his house, drinking and laughing and talking, huddled in one of his blankets, and looking like you belonged there, forever.

Falling in love with you was so easy, Santi didn’t even realise he was doing it.

Santi’s still impressed with himself that he didn’t just blurt out the words then and there. I love you.

How long had he been in love with you for? He couldn’t pinpoint down a specific moment. He remembered the night when you’d become friends - the last two around the bonfire, toasting marshmallows, making that awkward small-talk that occurs between acquaintances.

You’d made him laugh, playing chubby-bunny and teasing him until he’d had a go. You’d talked and talked, and Santi can’t even remember what about. Nothing, probably. The basics. Boring stuff, but filled with details that he’d used to keep the conversation going the next day.

He knows when he became your friend. Recognised when you trusted him more than the others, with the exception of maybe Will.

But he didn’t know when he fell in love with you. Just the day that the love became so overwhelming in his chest that he realised it.

The real nail in his metaphorical coffin was the night afterwards. The 5 of you had gone to a bar, and a girl had started talking to him as he was buying drinks. She was pretty, but she wasn’t you. And like a flashbulb, all of Santi’s previous partners flew through his mind and he realised that nothing had ever come out of them because they weren’t you.

They didn’t know how he liked his coffee, or why he had joined the military. They didn’t know the story behind his callsign, or what his favourite song was.

You did. What you weren’t there for, you asked about. You remembered. You made him feel important, like he mattered. In ways that he didn’t even really know existed.

You were the one that started him on decaf without telling him. That had been a conversation and a half. Before morning briefings, you’d started bringing him coffees. He hadn’t noticed much of a taste difference, and shamefully, had come to expect them.

Until, a month later, you weren’t there. A small trip home to visit your family, everyone knew you’d be back in a couple of days. Regardless, Santi had ordered what he’d thought was his usual coffee.

And found his anxiety rearing up again. It was subtle, making him more jumpy, less able to sleep, but it was there. He wasn’t sure what the cause was, definitely hadn’t linked it to the coffee, instead assuming that maybe he just missed you. Maybe because his anxiety hadn’t disappeared all the way, even with decaf. Maybe it was because it was your presence that helped him too.

He hadn’t even really noticed when the caffeine was gone, hadn’t noticed the absence of something wrong, only seeing the contrast when it returned. Maybe because it was gradual, the weaning off the caffeinated coffee, whereas the return, with his request of additional shot, had been too sharp for him.

You hadn’t noticed at first, assuming that Santi’s bear hug when he’d first seen you had just been because he missed you. But after lunch you pulled him to one side.

“Are you alright?” Your eyes are slightly wider with worry, and you’re chewing slightly on your bottom lip.

He hates that he’s the one to do that to you, and he tries to brush it off. “I’m fine.” That was his first mistake. His second was trying to push past you.

“Santiago!” He’s pulled up short, and there’s that tension, pulling at his shoulders, his eyebrows. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Your tone of voice hasn’t changed, but this time it’s a command.

Exhausted, hating himself, Santi drags his hands across his face. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I don’t...I don’t know.” He takes a breath, and it shudders through him. “I don’t know.” He sounds defeated, and he hopes you can’t hear it. “I just...I feel…” How does he feel? “Jittery.” Is what he finally settles on, but the word still feels wrong somehow.

You frown, looking him up and down like you’ve never seen him before. In fact, you’re silent for so long, Santi starts to be worried that you’re going to tell him to stop being so fucking ridiculous.

You don’t, but you ask questions.

Has he been sleeping? “Not really.”

Does he have something big coming up? “Just the usual.”

Has his daily routine changed at all? “No, I don’t think so. I get myself a coffee in the morning and the-”

You interrupt him with a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.” And now it’s wrong, because now you’re looking at him like it’s your fault, when it definitely isn’t. “Santi I’m sorry. It’s your coffee.”

Santi frowns. His coffee? And you sound so apologetic, and he doesn’t understand why. “I switched you to decaf.” You can’t meet his eyes any more, gaze skittering to his shoulder with nerves. And you’re not shutting up. “I’m sorry, I should have told you, or asked if I could, I just... I knew you were getting nightmares, and decaf helped me so I thought it might help y-”

Santi cuts you off with a hug.

And now, the three of you sat in the booth, he hates himself for agreeing with Benny. He would like to know. He has a sneaking suspicion, odd little comments you’ve made throughout the years that when pieced together, paint a picture. A very vivid picture that he sometimes uses to torture himself, late at night in bed, imagining what you’d look like with your hands between your legs and wrapping a hand around his-

Santi shakes his head. Now is not the time. There’s never really a good time to fantasise about one of your best friends, but in public when they’re sitting next to you, is definitely one of the worst.

And why did he have to offer to take care of you? Did he think he was in some kind of cheesy porno? What if you hated him-

In the end, it’s you who breaks him out of his thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed Pope.” You push out with your foot, lightly kicking his thigh, unable to read his stony face.

Throughout all of this, Frankie has kept quiet, and now the conversation seems like it’ll be returning to safer ground, he rubs a hand over his face, lifting his hat slightly. “No.” Santi protests, although he says it too fast for it to be sincere. “I’m not embarrassed.”

“Good,” you reply, and Santi can see the moment a thought pops into your head that you can’t resist, he can see it in the way your eyes light up with mischief. “Out of all the boys, I figured you’d be the most likely to use toys.”

Frankie quickly slides out from his seat, muttering something about going to the toilet, his cheeks aflame, as Santi chokes a little on his beer. “Or maybe Will,” you muse, and Santi coughs again. “Shit, are you alright?” You ask, rocking forward to lean on your knee so you can rub Santi’s back for a second.

He concentrates on getting himself back under control, on not focusing how warm your hand is against his back. He takes deep breaths in an attempt to calm his heart down, praying that the room is dark enough that you won’t see him blush.

Santi nods, his eyes watering a little, and you laugh, but it’s not unkind, not even when one of your thumbs wipes at his lower lash line, brushing away his tears with the pad. It’s so unexpectedly soft, another sharp contrast to this sticky, seedy bar they’re all in, where the booth seats are cracked and the most complicated drink they make is a rum and coke.

“Good,” you say, voice quiet, scooting back on the bench, your foot closer to his thigh this time, and Santi hates himself for wanting to follow you.

Instead, he pretends everyone else is still here, even as he watches Will whisper something into Benny’s ear as they stand, drinking next to the bar, with no clear intention of returning. Suddenly Benny punches Will’s upper arm, and Santi’s eyebrows twitch slightly in confusion. Benny looks ecstatic, and for what?

“I’ve used handcuffs,” he says casually, half of his mind taken up with Benny and Will acting like lunatics at the bar behind you. He’s wrenched back to you when you raise an eyebrow, and he’s reminded what it feels like to be the centre of your world.

Fuck, you’re sexy though.

***

Your heart beat speeds up, suddenly sounding loud in your chest. Your mind is screaming Danger! at you - but how can it be? This is Santiago. You would trust him with your life. You have.

I could take care of you, flashes through your mind again. Maybe-

“Yeah?” You ask, trying to act calm when there’s a steady thrumming under your skin. “And are you the tied up person, or do you do the tying?”

Santi scoffs, like he thinks the answer is obvious. Maybe it is.

“I do the tying.”

You smirk, dragging an exaggerated eye up and down his body. “Sure about that?”

He looks relaxed, like he can take up more space now Frankie has gone. One of his hands is on your calf, gently trailing up and down, slowly setting you on fire, and you don’t even think he realises he’s doing it. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t recognise, darker, although it seems familiar. That’s been happening more and more lately, especially when it’s just the two of you. You like it.

“You want to test me babygirl?”

You feel breathless. “Maybe I’d like to try.”

You’ve never spoken with Santi like this before. You flirt with him more than the other boys, but this is new. This feels...real, somehow. More dangerous. And he’s closer now, shifting, so your foot is over his lap, his hand wrapped around your ankle, on your bare skin and you’ve forgotten how to breathe. You watch his hand move on your leg and you feel like you could evaporate.

“That’s not what good girls do.” Fuck, his voice.

“Good girls don’t do a lot of things I do.”

And you’re not sure what gives you the sudden confidence, but you lean forwards, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. It’s a horrible angle, your legs in the way, but you don’t care.

And then you’re retreating, opening your eyes again, suddenly unsure of what you’ve just done. Your mouth feels tingly, where you can still feel Santi against you. His grip has tightened on your leg, no longer moving.

And then his hand is tugging at you a little, and there’s a smile threatening to take over his face.

Come here.

You scoot up, so your left leg is fully over him, your right leg tangling with his under the table and you can smell him now, beer and - as weird as it sounds - like a man. It’s familiar. Nice. Breathless, you shoot him a little grin, suddenly unsure.

And then he’s kissing you again and it’s everything you ever dreamed of. His lips are soft, but firm, moving against your mouth, contrasting with the slight stubble growing on his face. His free hand moves to your waist and you let out a small sound.

You break apart after a second, both of you breathless. You’ve slung your arms around his neck, fingers idly playing with his chain, and you’re the first to speak.

“So do you use those handcuffs on anyone?”

Santi kisses you again, short and sweet, before he answers, his lips mumbling against yours. “Hmm, just on girls I really like.”

You kiss again, neither of you really wanting to stop. “Can I use them on you?” Santi asks, moving to kiss along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe. You feel surrounded by him, he’s all you care about, all you can feel.

Your eyes snap open, desire pooling in your belly. Is this really happening? “Yes.”

“Good.” Santi’s voice is still low in your ear, before he moves down your neck, soft lips a stark contrast to his stubble catching on your skin. “How do you feel about a date, too?”

“Yeah?” You lean back slightly so you can see his face. He’s beautiful in this light, face half hidden in the shadows, eyes dark.

His lips are brushing yours again.

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up, take you somewhere nice, do it properly.”

“Good,” you mumble against him, “that sounds really good.” Your fingers are still playing with his chain, lightly brushing against the scar on his neck. “Shall we go?”

Before you know it, the two of you are sitting in a cab, having said a quick goodbye to the others, Will asking if it was safe for them to sit back in the booth. You’d responded with the finger, not bothering with a proper reply.

Santi leans over to you, whispering into your ear. “Can I really tie you up?”

You clench your thighs together, closing your eyes in an effort not to physically respond. The pause is enough for Santi to hesitate, hand shyly holding yours. “It’s ok, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, it was just a-”

You stop him with a kiss, moving your hand so you can squeeze him in reassurance. When you answer, it’s a mumble against his mouth so the driver doesn’t hear. “Break out the handcuffs, and we’ll see if you’re as tough as you act, big boy.”

Santi groans when you lean away from him.

Getting inside Santi’s flat is a feat in itself, and you’re honestly a little proud of the restraint both of you showed by not fucking in the stairwell, stopping every couple of meters to kiss each other senseless, hips clumsily knocking together as you rile each other up.

You’ve been inside his flat before, so when Santi kicks the door closed, walking you backwards into his bedroom, kissing you all the while, you don’t protest. It’s so nice to finally kiss Santi like you’ve wanted to for a while now, so nice to feel his hands on your waist, pushing you backwards while his hips press into yours, steady now, purposeful.

His fingers are playing with the waist of your trousers, and you help him, shimmying your jeans off, pushing them down your thighs and letting them fall to the floor. Then he surprises you, dropping to his knees in front of you, pulling your knickers down your legs.

Looking down, you feel dizzy from the rush of power this brings you. Santi looks like he’s about to worship you, his face close to your pussy. His hands are on your waist and he pushes at you, encouraging you to step back.

When you don’t he tips his head back, exposing his neck to you. “Step back.” His voice is dangerous and you can feel more wetness gathering between your legs. You grin down at him, still not moving.

In response Santi nips at your thigh, grinning when you gasp, hands flying to his hair. He pushes at you again, and this time you let him, stepping back until you hit his bed, sitting down.

Santi presses his hand against your stomach, and you allow yourself to be pushed back, falling back onto your elbows so you can watch him. He presses his nose to your mound and you squirm, impatient, as Santi spreads your knees so he can fit between your legs.

You watch him press his nose to your pussy, burying his nose in you, feeling yourself grow wetter. “You taste so good,” he groans, “Sweetest pussy I’ve tasted.” As he begins to explore you with his tongue, your hips lift off the bed with a groan and it takes you a second to recognise your own voice, broken with need. Santi’s arm reaches out, pressing you down as he explores your folds. Stubble is scratching your thighs, a pleasantly rough feeling compared to the soft wetness, the pliability of Santi’s tongue. Your clit is the first thing he concentrates on, his tongue practically lapping at you, and it all feels so good.

One hand is desperately fisting the sheets to the side of you as you try to hold on to reality, the other knotted in Santi’s short curls, nails scraping ever so slightly along his scalp even as he lifts you higher and higher. Broken pleas of his name fall from your lips when he inserts two fingers into you, gently pumping in and out, with a strangely satisfying squelch under your cries.

Your orgasm creeps up on you, slow and unsuspecting. One second your chest is heaving, breaths short and shallow, the next you’ve tensed up as you fall apart under Santi.

He keeps kissing you, gently pressing his lips over your thighs, hips, stomach as you stare at his ceiling, willing rational thought to return to you. He’s murmuring praises into your skin, telling you how good you are for him, what a good job you’ve done, how pretty you look when you come, how he wants to make you do it again, and all the while you float somewhere above your body, hardly daring to believe this is real. Santi keeps kissing you, any skin he can get his mouth on, desperate to keep tasting you. Gradually he moves up your body, even as you lie there, panting, letting him push your top up, bunching under your arms and around your neck.

Your hands fly to his hair when he bites the soft skin of your breast peeking out from your bra, and you arch your back towards him slightly, letting out a small whine. You can feel his smirk against you, so you wrap your legs around his waist, canting your hips up, grinding against where you can feel him, hard and aching in his jeans.

Now it’s your turn to smirk, slow and lazy when Santi lets out a low growl in response. He tips his head up so he can look at you, his eyes soft as he smiles at you. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

And then his body weight is gone and he’s standing next to the bed, taking his top off and it’s not the first time you’ve seen him shirtless, of course it isn’t, but it’s the first time you’ve seen him and been allowed to look, and Santi’s all shadows and soft muscle, pale scars highlighted on his skin.

You sit up, and it takes you a second to fight your way out of your top, quickly sliding the straps of your bra off, and dropping your clothes to the side of the bed as you watch Santi cross his room, and fish out a pair of handcuffs from a box with a couple of other objects inside, as well as what you’re pretty sure looks like a strap-on. And maybe it’s because his ass is currently in your eye-line, maybe it’s the surprise, but the image of you wearing it, teasing Santi with your dick while he waits on all fours on his bed, begging for you to touch him, suddenly pops into your head, and you have to work to hold back a moan at the mental image. Oh my god.

When Santi turns back to you, he’s opened the cuffs. “Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

You suddenly feel nervous, your mouth dry, and you don’t know why, this is Santi. He’s made it clear that you don’t have to do this, and anyway you want to. “Green is good, orange is slow down, red is stop,” you recite easily, and Santi nods in satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he says and his words hit deep in your stomach, unfurling something you hadn’t known existed. “You say something and I’ll untie you.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back on your hands, eyeing up the way Santi’s jeans are still on, now hanging low on his hips, exposing a small trail of hair down from his bellybutton. “What if I don’t want you to untie me?” You ask.

You can see how his eyes darken, but he doesn’t move. “Tell me you understand,” he says, voice stern and you shiver.

“I understand,” you parrot. Santi nods, pleased at you doing as he says, and steps out of his jeans, pulling his boxers off at the same time, releasing his cock. He’s hard, curving up towards his stomach and leaking pre-cum.

Almost on instinct, you lean forwards to lick it off, and Santi lets out a groan of satisfaction at the sensation of your mouth just wrapping around his head, your hands on his thighs. Before you can take him any further, he’s stepping back, shaking his head.

“Lie back,” he instructs, and you obey. Santi kneels next to you, tugging your wrists up, above your head, looping the handcuffs through his headboard and clicking them on around you. You give them an experimental tug, biting back a moan when they hold fast. “Colour?” Santi asks, and you grin up at him.

“Green.” Your voice already sounds broken. “Santi, please.”

Santi just kneels back, looking at you with those hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes out, hands running up and down your body, ignoring how you squirm as best you can under him.

“Oh yeah?” You ask. “Why don’t you come down here then, instead of just watching me?” Santi’s hands reach your breasts, squeezing and gently massaging and you arch your back towards him.

“You’re unhappy with my hands?” Santi returns, and stops touching you. You can’t help it, letting out a whine and straining to move your arms towards him, before remembering you can’t, your attempted movement jangling the chain a little.

“No, Santi,” you’re desperate for him to touch you again, especially now you can’t touch him,“Santi please, touch me again, touch me more.” Begging has never come so easily to you. And then Santi’s moving between your legs, gripping your hips and thrusting up, but not into you, just along your folds. You moan, shifting as best as you can while Santi coats himself with your slick, the head of his cock just pushing your clit, teasing you and riling you up further.

You suddenly really want to touch him, to rake your hands through his hair, to scratch your nails down his back, to be able to suck a purple hickey into his skin. You let your head fall back to the bed, pushing your hips towards him, desperate for more, desperate for him.

It’s only when you open your mouth in a desperate plea, a whine of his name, “Santi, Santi please,” that he begins to push into you.

Your mouth falls open in silent pleasure, just as Santi begins to talk. “Fuck, baby.” The stretch of him is delicious. “I wanted this for so long.” Now fully seated in you, he rests on his forearms, kissing you softly, first on the forehead, then on your lips. “Colour?” he asks softly.

You nearly cry from how sweet it is, how sweet he is, before responding, a mumble against his lips. “Green.” You feel full, like this is how you’re supposed to feel all the time, this is your base state, and you’re going to spend the rest of your life trying to achieve this specific feeling.

“Good girl,” Santi murmurs and you keen at the praise, feeling insatiable, wanting more, clenching around him. He grins, registering your response. “You liked that? You like being told what a good job you’re doing, how good you feel around me..” he breaks off with a gasp, and your eyes close as Santi begins to move in time with his words, long, slow thrusts as he begins to put you together again, building you up, further and further, his thrusts speeding up gradually, the sound of his dick sliding into your wetness, and the slap of skin-on-skin loud in his room, mixing with your moans.

You lift your legs up, wrapping them around his waist, hooking one of your feet around Santi’s butt. They don’t stay there for long, one of Santi’s arms pushing one leg up your body, hand under your knee as he splits you open. The new angle hits something deeper in you, and you gasp, unable to move and at the mercy of Santiago.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, coming out of nowhere, your lower body suddenly clenching around Santi, arms straining against the handcuffs, as you try in vain to touch him. You tumble through it, muscles spasming as you fall under him. He keeps moving into you as you shudder below him, pulling you through with murmured praise and encouragement as another broken cry leaves your throat.

His thrusts start to get sloppier as he goes faster, losing his rhythm slightly and you can tell he’s near his end. As best you can, you start moving your own hips, grinding up to meet him, words of encouragement slipping past your lips. “Santi, you feel so good, are you gonna fill me up?” You coo, pouting a little, tugging your wrists a little for emphasis. “Please Santi, I want to feel you, come in me, please-”

You stop when Santi snaps his hips once more, with a groan of finality and you can feel his cum inside of you as he holds himself there, his cock pulsing within you. He presses a couple more gentle kisses to your neck before sliding out, and you hiss slightly at the pull on your sensitive folds of your pussy.

He leaves for a second, returning with a key and gently releasing your wrists. “Good girl,” he murmurs, massaging your skin. “You did so good for me.”

He helps you sit up, kissing your cheek before leaving again. This time when he returns, he has a wet rag, and a glass of water, which you take a sip from, not having realised how thirsty you were. He gently dabs the rag on the inside of your thighs first, and the two of you watch in slightly morbid fascination as Santi’s cum leaks out of you onto the rag.

“That’s kinda hot,” you comment idly, wondering if Santi fucked all sense of you.

He only laughs, wiping the mess away and cuddling up next to you. “Do you want me to do it again?” he asks as you lean into his arms, his hands wrapping around your wrists to rub circles into your skin.

“Yes,” you answer, probably too quickly but beyond caring.

“Good.”

There’s a pause, and you can tell Santi wants to ask you something, so you twist in his arms, kissing along his shoulder. The act feels small, and innocent somehow, despite your states of undress, as you try to reassure him.

“You were right,” you murmur near his ear, “Stranger was where I was going wrong.”

It takes him a second to piece your reference together, but then he grins, and it’s like he hung the sun in the sky. “Yeah? I took care of you?”

You kiss him again, this time on the lips, biting back your own identical grin. “Yeah.”

***

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#Santiago x reader #Santiago Garcia x reader #Santiago pope x reader #Santiago pope Garcia x reader #pope x reader #Santiago Garcia #Santiago pope #Santiago pope Garcia #triple frontier #fanfic

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