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phebbsl · 2 months

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Just Benefits

Something I whipped while procrastinating on my other fics bc brainrot got to me. Lmk if there's any typos. May or may not make this into a full fic hehe

Sebastian x F!Reader

content: nsfw

MDNI!!!

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Sebastian who is completely shocked when you propose a friends with benefits situation with him.

Sebastian accepts because why the hell not? He finds you attractive and you’re steadily becoming one of his favorite people in the valley after some late night chats by the lake and generous surprises of his favorite gifts.

Sebastian has to smoke to calm his nerves as he walks down the mountain path to meet up with you for the first time. He makes sure to not litter on your property and stuffs the dirty cigarette butt into his pocket before knocking to enter.

Sebastian decides to just kiss you after an awkward greeting. It’s slow and fumbling at first but the two of you soon find your bearings and it becomes deeper and neither of you can get enough.

Sebastian lets himself get pulled to your bed, only to push you on it and beneath him so he can kiss you more, he can’t stop his hands from roaming your body and tugging at your clothes.

Sebastian who asks for permission before pulling off your bottoms and gets harder with your shy agreement.

Sebastian who can’t help but gawk at the wet patch already forming on your panties and ends up kissing that very spot, over and over until you beg him to just take them off.

Sebastian who ends up making out with your clit, flicking his tongue piercing along your folds and pumping his long fingers in and out of you until you come for the first time. He doesn’t even notice that he’s been humping the mattress until after you’re done, he’s already so high from your taste and smell.

Sebastian who eagerly shuffles off his jeans and boxers when you ask to reciprocate. He has to bite into his hands to keep himself from whining too much.

Sebastian nearly finishes in your mouth but pulls you off because he just needs to fuck you so badly instead.

Sebastian who asks again to make sure you’re sure before slowly pressing into you so you can feel every single inch and vein.

Sebastian who has to grip your sheets hard because it's just so, so difficult not to immediately come, and he really doesn’t want to let you down.

Sebastian listens to all the sounds you make to make sure he’s fucking you how you like, every gasp and moan is a direction to him.

Sebastian who fucks you harder when you ask for it, who holds your legs open so he can angle his hips just right to thrust harder and faster right into the spot that makes you whine his name.

Sebastian makes sure to rub your clit right when your legs start to shake and your voice gets all pitchy to help you climax.

Sebastian comes when you do, unable to hold back when he feels your walls getting wetter and tighter, practically milking him. He continues to thrust into you though, working both of you through your highs.

Sebastian feels awkward when the afterglow fades, he’s unsure of if you want him to stay or do aftercare, but ends up fetching you water and giving you some cuddles before deciding to leave as to not overstay his welcome.

FWB!Sebastian starts coming over more often now, whenever he’s annoyed at home or just whenever you text him.

FWB!Sebastian who starts to shamelessly introduces new positions and kinks to try after getting more and more comfortable.

FWB!Sebastian who also figures out that he likes it when you praise him and that you like it when he makes sounds, so he makes sure to let out his moans and whimpers too, even if he thinks it a little embarrassing.

FWB!Sebastian who will smoke in bed afterwards if you allow it and if he notices that you find it attractive. Otherwise he weans himself off smoking more and more unconsciously if you don't.

FWB!Sebastian who stays for the night almost every time now, he enjoys your bigger bed and doesn’t mind being the bigger or the smaller spoon, he goes along with whatever you prefer.

FWB!Sebastian alternates making breakfast with you whenever he stays over. He notices the new coffee machine that mysteriously appears soon after, and he hides his little smile and red cheeks with his hair when you enter the kitchen.

FWB!Sebastian rarely jerks off anymore, he has you now, but when he does, it’s always to the thought of you.

FWB!Sebastian who ends up gravitating more to you whenever you join him and his friends at the Saloon on Friday night. He starts to arrive earlier and stays later just to talk to you more.

FWB!Sebastian doesn’t even notice that his habits are changing, also waking up earlier as a result of your early schedule.

FWB!Sebastian who finally realizes his feelings after some off handed comments from his mom and Sam about how different he acts when he’s around you.

FWB!Sebastian doesn’t want to mess things up so he eventually resolves to just keep the friends with benefits arrangement because he’ll take what he can get.

FWB!Sebastian really can’t stand it though. You consume every moment and every thought, he just wishes that you would feel the same. He starts to become more awkward around you now, and even avoids you sometimes because the butterflies in his stomach become too strong whenever he sees you.

FWB!Sebastian who starts to fuck you gentler sometimes, as if he’s making love to you as a boyfriend instead of what it really is. He presses kisses to your forehead and cheeks tenderly and just wants to hold your hand.

FWB!Sebastian accidentally confesses during a particularly intimate round of sex as he’s finishing, and he runs away when you ask him what he said as the two of you cuddle.

FWB!Sebastian who panics in his room after because he’s really fucked it up this time now, hasn’t he?

FWB!Sebastian really avoids you now, burying himself back into work and sending clipped responses to your texts.

FWB!Sebastian who eventually spills the whole situation to Sam because he just really needs to get it off his chest. Sam verbally hands his ass to him, and encourages him to really confess, because holy shit, everyone’s realized that the farmer is not as happy as they used to be.

FWB!Sebastian feels so guilty when he hears that, he knows he has to fix the situation, so he prepares.

FWB!Sebastian texts you to meet him at his place. When you arrive, he has his bike out and he asks you to go on a ride with him. His palms sweat in his gloves as he drives, and he can smell your scent even through the helmet.

FWB!Sebastian akes you to his spot on the cliff. The view is beautiful that night, looking over Zuzu city, and the sky is clear for all the stars to shine, but he only has eyes for you.

FWB!Sebastian says that the two of you need to talk, but he comes off as too serious, and you think he’s breaking up with you. He panics and confesses his feelings, not following the script he set for himself, but he can’t stand to see you cry.

FWB!Sebastian who hugs you tight after you say you feel the same, he feels so overjoyed. He kisses you, you kiss back, and it really does feel like the two of you are in a movie.

Boyfriend!Sebastian feels like he’s on top of the world when the two of you drive back to the valley, he screams out his happiness as he speeds along the empty highway and the two of you laugh the entire way.

Boyfriend!Sebastian who can’t get enough of the way you smile at him when you get back to his place and remove the riding helmet. He loves the way it grows when he gives you the bouquet he stashed behind a bush.

Boyfriend!Sebastian who races back with you to the farmhouse so he can properly worship you as you deserve, and this time as his girlfriend.

#sdv farmer #farmer x sebastian #stardew valley #sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian #stardew sebastian x reader #sdv sebastian x farmer #sdv sebastian x reader #pheebsfics #sdv smut #sdv sebastian smut #stardew smut #sdv sebastian x female reader

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lovebugism · 7 months

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eddie fucking you in the back of his van whilst it’s raining😫

hope you like it lovie!! — after a series of ruined date nights, eddie makes up for another failure the only way he knows how (established relationship, smut 18+, 1.4k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie was gonna take you out, come hell or high water — literally.

It was like the universe was conjuring up ways to keep you apart. He tries to plan a date night with you, and suddenly you have to pick up your coworker’s extra shift and the brakes in his van don’t work anymore.

He takes you to a drive-in to see some black-and-white horror movie, and for the first time in weeks, things are actually looking pretty good. With some candy he brought from home, the two of you settle under the covers in the back of his van, lazing against one another as the projector flickers on.

And then it just starts fucking pouring.

It’s like he blinks and the whole thing gets canceled and the entire parking lot is empty.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he grumbles under his breath, not unlike the black storm clouds rolling overhead.

You giggle at his dramatics. The heavenly sound melts with the wild cadence of rain, tapping rhythmically against the rusted tin roof of the van.

You’re still being a good sport about the whole thing despite the circumstances. You don’t care what you’re doing, really. You’re happy just doing nothing with Eddie.

“They refunded us for next week. We can just come back Saturday.”

“I wanted to do it this Saturday,” he whines, all boyishly angry. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leans his head back and bares his milky white neck. “This was supposed to be our night together— why does everything have to get so fucked all the time?”

“It’s not like everything’s totally ruined,” you assure him, practically cooing as you smooth out the frown between his brows with your thumb. “At least we’re together. Who cares about the rest of it?”

“I know, but… You were really excited about it. And I was really excited to watch you watch the movie.”

Eddie tries to be serious, but he’s grinning the second he makes you laugh.

“Shut up…”

“I mean it,” he tells you, serious and quiet with it. His cheek squishes against his shoulder when he pouts at you. “I think I might be heartbroken, babe.”

You know what he’s playing at. You lean into it, anyway.

“Yeah?” you hum with narrowed eyes.

He nods.

“Want me to make it better?”

“Please?”

You close the short distance between you to press a kiss to his mouth. It’s the chastest little peck — you’re practically gone the second you’re there. Eddie chases you when you pull away, tasting of nicotine and pink starbursts when he kisses you deeper.

You get lost in him like it’s nothing, sighing when his soft tongue juts gently against your own. He’s sucking softly at your bottom lip one second, and the next, you’re lying on a pile of fuzzy blankets.

His rings and cold knuckles brush your sides when he tugs at the hem of your shirt, a silent plea for its removal. You come to then, pulling back from him with a low click sounding between your kissed mouths.

“Wait…”

“What?” he wonders, lips rosy and swollen. His deep, chocolate eyes dart between both of yours, looking for any sign that something might be wrong.

“Won’t we get in trouble?”

“No— Everyone already left.”

He’s breathless from having been kissed so ardently. He leans down for more anyway. His stomach twists with rejection when you press against his shoulders to stop him.

With a sigh, he concedes and rises off of you again. His shirt is wrinkled and skewed around his neck from your passionate touches. Still on his knees, he reaches for the metal handle of the back door and shouts into the roaring rain — “Hello? Anyone out here?”

“Eddie!” you shout, giggling and jerking backward when rogue droplets sprinkle inside.

The van shakes when he slams the door shut again.

“See?” he lilts with a lopsided grin. “No one.”

You shake your head at him. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“You love me, though,” he mutters as he settles back over you. The weight of his body is warm against your own. With your hands on his sides, you pull him somehow closer.

“Unfortunately…” you gripe, kissing the breath from his lungs a second later.

When he reaches for the hem of your shirt again, you let him take it off.

—————

The thundering rain against the roof almost drowns out your gentle moans. Eddie’s glad you’re breathing them right into his ear, so he can hear everything he’s doing to you.

His thrusts are slow and measured. Almost painfully unrushed. He shushes your begging to go faster — “Just let me make you feel good,” he mutters, slurred and low, “Let me hit that spot.” He pierces you with his cock, tilting his hips to hit deep inside you until you make a pretty noise for him, then he creeps back out again.

He never pulls all the way out, though, ‘cause he might die if he left the warm velvet you are around him. He keeps his pelvis pressed intently against your own, the coarse hair at the base of his cock steady on your pussy. The pressure against your clit is merciless.

“Put your legs around me, baby,” he mumbles against your mouth because he knows the different angle will make it better for you.

He almost smirks when you obey him without thinking, but his mouth parts with an unexpected moan before he can. You pull your knees back and tuck your ankles around his waist, heels pressing gently above his ass.

Your cunt widens and suckles him further in.

Eddie grumbles a hearty, poorly muffled moan into your neck.

“There you go— just like that,” he praises. “Doing so good for me, pretty. Always so good for me.”

You whine again, high and light, like the praise is equally as pleasurable as his cock.

His metal chain glides between your breasts when he pulls back from you. He tucks his ringed fingers into your waist and sits back on his haunches, balls resting warm and wet against your ass. He keeps rocking into you, unhurried.

“What happened to that mouth you had before, huh?” Eddie wonders, still breathless.

He smirks when you moan in response. He knows you don’t have the words to answer him. He knows he’s fucked you far too stupid.

“Thought I was incorrigible, remember? What happened to that?”

Your mouth parts in a silent whimper, back arching and brows pinching when his cock hits deeper than you think he’s ever been. The pleasure feels borderline electric — makes your spine tingle and your legs go numb.

“Yeah… For someone who loves mouthing off—” Eddie continues to tease despite his breathlessness. You clench around him, and he has to remember to exhale. “—You open up so easily for me. Don’t ya, honey?”

You wanna say something. You think you almost do. But his thrusts are as merciless as they are slow. He presses impossibly deep within you and keeps hitting that spot until you tremble. The words get caught in your throat, along with a silent moan.

“That’s okay, honey. Just let me fuck you. Let me make you feel good,” Eddie slurs, mumbling like he’s talking to himself. “Go dumb for me like you always do. So perfect at that— god.”

He tilts his head back to howl a groan. Through fluttering lashes and a blurry vision, you see his clenched jaw and taut neck and heaving chest.

Eddie always talks a big game when he gets you all sweet and pliable underneath him. He loves to be dominant while he tears you apart, but as his own orgasm crawls up his spine, his true colors start to show.

He leans back over you again, caging you beneath his warm weight. He stops hiding his pathetic whines and whimpers and instead buries them into your sweat-slick shoulder. He babbles in your ear, a bunch of garbled nothingness because words are starting to lose meaning.

“Fuck, honey. Oh, fuck— you’re so fucking— shit. You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, you know that? So good for me. So soft, too. Shit. This pussy’s gonna kill me.”

He tucks his face into your neck and tries to kiss you through his whines. His ringed fingers crawl behind your back, holding you like his life depends on it while his measured thrusts grow rapid and sloppy.

Eddie begs you to cum, or rather demands it because he can feel himself about to explode. “Cum— Cum for me— right fucking now.”

You do. You’ve been hanging by a thread the whole time, really. And like you expected, Eddie’s not too far behind you. Your unabashed moans entwine, mixing with the wild cadence of the rain against the tin roof of the rocking van.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

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𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 4k

summary: after finding him wounded in an empty alleyway, against your better judgment, you decide to patch him up in your apartment. you expect that to be the end of it, never to see him again, that is, until you do.

warnings: piv, rough sex, dirty talking, biting, claws make a brief appearance, mild degradation (he calls you slut once), mention of female masturbation

You live in a world without heroes. Yet, the villains roam free.

You’re used to it by now, walking through the damp alleyways. You hear a shout here and there, always keeping your head bowed as you walk past whatever might be going on. Once upon a time, this bothered you. But after a knife to your stomach and a punch to the cheek, you learned to look the other way around, no matter how painful it might be. Sometimes you find yourself wondering why this might be. You always assumed some type of ying yang situation should be in place, making everything right, but you seem to be living in a world without good. Without light.

You don’t know what prompts you to do it. You’re walking back from work, the scent of rain and the stench of exhaust thick in the air. All you want to do is get to your cramped apartment before the downpour.

You think it’s the wind that makes you turn your head, you hate when your eyes water and dry out. When you do turn, you stare into the familiar abyss of the alleyway behind your apartment. It’s truly pitch black. Despite the darkness, you see a faint movement in shadows, a loud sound, a crash. You see a flash of red, blue. Your eyes narrow—what the?

You know well that you shouldn’t, that whatever was lurking in the shadows would be bad news, but you do it anyway. With a grunt, you open the flashlight of your phone and take a step closer. There’s a man laying on the cold ground, he doesn’t seem to be moving.

“Hello?” you call out. No answer. “Um, are you drunk or high? Should I call an ambulance?”

The broad figure groans and your heart nearly lurches. “No,” he mumbles. “No doctors.”

With a slight tremor in your step, you come closer. You shine the light into his face, his brows furrow, an annoyed scowl etching into his handsome features. Your lips part with a soft exhale. He’s so handsome.

Then you get a good look at the rest of him—what the hell is he wearing?

“Do you need help?” you ask, unsure. He doesn’t seem to be bleeding, his eye looks a bit swollen though. Wait, scratch that, you think you spot some blood on his lips. “Should I get you anything?”

Maybe you sound foolish, but you know better than to just call 911 for a random person. Everyone is a criminal these days. Fuck, if he was a criminal you should call the cops, this city is seriously starting to cloud your better judgment.

“No cops,” he chokes and coughs, as if he can read your thoughts. “Go away, I’ll be fine.”

No, he won’t.

He knows it. You know it.

“I live right next door,” you answer against your better judgment. “I have a first aid kit. I can patch you up if you want? I don’t wanna brag, but I am a nurse in training.”

He makes a sound that is similar to a chuckle but the sound quickly fades into a vicious cough. You tuck the phone into your pocket and lean over, “Alright big guy, you’re coming with me,” you attempt to throw his arm over your shoulder but that proves to be more difficult. “Can you stand? Even a little.”

He nods and straightens up a bit. You’re still carrying most of his weight but you manage to get him past the door and onto your couch.

You must’ve thrown him a little too hard because he lets out a loud grunt, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle the sound.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “Just wait for me here, I’ll come back with water and the first aid kit.”

The man makes another sound. You’re starting to think this is his only form of communication.

When you come back, he’s still where you left him. Albeit looking a bit more alert now, eyes constantly scanning your humble apartment. You can’t really blame him though, you would do the same thing. You eye him warily, then place the glass of water on the coffee table. He glares at it like it’s poison.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

He scoffs, “I don’t think you could even if you tried,” he answers, tongue moving over his bloody bottom lip. He points at the table. “And there’s a coaster right there.”

“Who are you, my mother?”

Despite your sharp tone, you place the glass on the coaster and sit on the coffee table, the small first aid kit in hand. “Does that thing have a zipper, or. . . ?”

His right brow and lip cock up simultaneously. You’re acutely aware that no matter what you do, you’ll never be able to understand what’s going on in that head of his—Not that you want to. He’s a stranger. A man that looks strong enough to hold you by the neck before you can reach the pepper spray nestled in your bag.

The silence makes you uneasy, and when you finally open your mouth to speak, he leans forward. “Don’t freak out,” he grunts.

“Why would I freak out—” The rest of the sentence dies in your throat, his suit glitches—glitches—like a damn video game. It blinks once, twice and you swear you can see little particles glimmering on his skin, fading away from reality. Panic flaring in your gut, you look down.

Pants still on. And here your thought that the entire thing was a one-piece suit.

“I said don’t freak out,” he repeats, eyebrow raised and head tilted to the side. You snap your mouth shut.

“I’m not freaking out,” you say, voice shrill. “Who’s freaking out? Not me.”

His shoulders are broad, arms muscular with thick veins meandering down. You’ve never been a fan of veins popping out but whoever this man was made it look good. You swallow over and over in a weak attempt to wet the inside of your mouth. You fail helplessly. You’re not even aware that you’re holding the first aid kit with an iron grip, knuckles aching from the pressure. His torso is completely bare now.

“I don’t have a zipper,” he says unhelpfully, unaware of you behaving straight out of a 1950s cartoon.

“I can see that.”

God, he is the weirdest stray you ever brought over.

He points at the box, “So do you actually know how to use what’s inside or were you just bluffing when you said you were a nurse?”

“A nurse in training,” you quip. “And no, I wasn’t bluffing.”

With great strength, you finally drag your eyes down his torso. There’s a splatter of blood, some of the drops rubbed into his skin and the crimson trail is followed up by a giant slash across his stomach. The bleeding had stopped which was a good sign. You lean closer, your fingers fiddling with the box at the same time, narrowing your gaze you notice the wound is deeper than you had initially thought.

“Whoever it was that attacked you got you good,” you murmur. Without a second thought, you slide off the coffee table and kneel in front of him, you miss the glint in his eyes as he looks down, miss the way he spreads his legs so you can fit better.

“How do you know it wasn’t me who attacked them?”

The rough tone of his voice prompts you to look up. For someone who’s been stabbed, he’s eerily calm. His arms are spread over the backrest, chest slowly rising up and down as his eyes flit across your face, searching. The muscle in his jaw twitches, lips stretching into something resembling a snarl. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are, the position you’re in. The sound of danger rings in your ears—you don’t even know this man’s name. Your breath catches in your throat, stomach jumping. You don’t know why you initially felt so comfortable with him, as if you were long-lost friends, but you aren’t. You were being reckless.

“Scared?” he asks, venomous, hunching over your frame, caging you in. Heat radiates from his thighs, a stark contrast to the cold fear gripping your insides. He hooks two fingers under your chin, lifts your head up. Your bottom lip quivers. “You should be. You live in a dangerous world.”

“And you don’t?” you counter, your voice barely above a whisper, your words hanging in the air, challenging his assertion. The question slips out before you can fully comprehend its weight, and you see his jaw tighten as he ponders for an answer.

You meticulously cleanse the wound, removing dirt and debris with steady hands. The sting of antiseptic fills the air, intermingling with the charged atmosphere. You’re not shy with the way you touch him, a simmering annoyance warming your gut. He can take it, you think applying further pressure. He doesn’t make a sound.

The dim light of the room accentuates the harsh contours of his face, and his piercing gaze feels like it's cutting through your soul. You drag your teth against the smooth surface of the inside of your cheek. You’ve never had a patient stand this still.

Finally, just as you complete the final wrap of the bandage, he gives you an answer.

“Not the same one as you do.”

Miguel O’hara was his name. He told you just before disappearing into the neon lights of the dark and cold city. You didn’t think much of it, you were sure you wouldn’t be seeing him again, which meant remembering his name was useless.

But your mind wouldn’t let him go. You tasted his name in the dark hours of the night, hand between your legs, coming as you thought of scenarios where instead of dousing his wound in antiseptic, you took his cock into his mouth, helping him in a different way. His suit left little to the imagination and now that your imagination roamed free, you’re glad that it was.

Convinced that he’ll never show up again, you continue on normally, half in fear due to the chaos around you, trying to do your best.

That was until he did show up.

You step out of the shower, water trickling down your skin, softened by the warm steam. The towel hangs loosely around your chest, on the verge of slipping off. You never quite mastered the art of securing it tightly, but living alone means you don't have to worry about walking around naked if it happens to fall off.

The window cracks open, cold air seeping through, chilling your freshly warmed body. Tension instantly builds in your body, your eyes slowly moving to the window. You see him then. Miguel. He pushes the window open and climbs in, not saying a word. You hold the towel tightly around you—a dream, you think, it has to be.

With quick, large steps, he crowds your space, forcing your back against the wall. The air is knocked from your lungs, your throat convulsing with a sudden panic. He’s not touching you.

“M-Miguel,” you whisper. “I didn’t—I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“Neither did I,” he answers, large hands cupping your waist and pinning you to the wall. “I’m tired,” he adds, words dropping from his lips more like a punch than a plea. Like someone is squeezing the words out of him.

“What do you need?”

His eyes drop to your lips, a hungry gaze that sends shivers up your spine. You hold your breath. He’s so close, close enough that you feel his breath on your damp skin. He tilts his head to the side, eyes closing.

“I need to not think,” he answers painfully slow, tasting every word. “I need to not feel. I need to not worry. I need to disappear for a while.”

Miguel takes a long, languid breath. Filling his lungs with the scent of your watermelon body wash. His tongue pokes from between his lips, moving over the bottom one. “Can you give me that?”

His fingers tighten, the soft fabric of your towel bunching in his palm, you swear you feel the bite of nails despite the fluffy exterior. Your eyes search his. You know nothing of him. Only his name that he’d begrudgingly given you. Your pulse quickens, the rush of blood loud in your ears. He’s not here for you, that’s something you need to keep in mind before going any further. He’s here for the release, for the simple act of having another’s warmth surrounding him. You’re an escape. Something simple and easy he doesn’t have to think about when he runs off to deal with whatever he deals with.

After seconds that feel like hours, you decide you want to give that to him. You don’t mind the hurt you’ll feel after. Letting him take what he wants knowing that’ll affect you more than him. Something about him makes you not care.

“I can,” you breathe, instinctively searching for his lips with your own. “Do your worst Miguel O’hara.”

You drop the towel, damp fabric pooling at your ankles. His eyes widen briefly before smiling something wicked. His forehead touches yours, nose brushing your own as his lips ghost an inch away. Your breath catches in your throat, the need growing between your legs. A chuckle drops from his lips reminding you of gravel. You don’t share his humor, you just want to feel him.

“You don’t want my worst,” he grunts. “You’ll break.”

“I won’t.”

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. Miguel doesn’t attempt to probe you wrong, breaking things is meant to have consequences. You either try to fix it or ponder over what you’ve done, he wants none of that. Instead, he presses flush against you, body firm in contrast with the soft swell of your chest and stomach. Your nipples tighten. He crashes into you, tongue hungrily slipping between your lips as his mouth moves greedily. You feel hands on your chest, kneading, squeezing, pinching. You moan into his mouth, he swallows the sounds, grinding himself hard into you. You’re shaking, his body suffocating.

“If I touch you,” he says into your mouth, fingers skimming the outside of your thighs. “Will you be soaked for me?” With a whimper, you nod. He grins, canines looking sharper compared to what they did before, “Such a good little slut,” he growls.

Contrary to what he’d said, he doesn’t slip his fingers between your legs to see if you’re telling the truth. Instead, he slots his thick thigh between your bare legs, pushing the muscle up until you’re left gasping, your hands flailing as you wrap them around his broad shoulders. The pressure makes you dizzy, the fabric of his suit softer than what you expected, a delicious friction over your aching clit. You moan openly into his neck, teeth scraping against the vein.

“I’m going to fuck you like this,” he murmurs. “Up against the wall,” his suit fades away, cock hard against the soft planes of your stomach. You shudder as precome smears over the skin. He continues, licking your lips. “Then up against the window, want you to be loud. Want you to scream and tell me to take. . .”

The emphasis on the “t” sends a million tiny needles biting into your skin. Your chest heaves with the brush of his lips, you want to feel it again, the plush feeling of faux softness on your mouth. But he doesn’t give you that. He smiles a cruel smile, one that chills your skin but lights a fire in the pit of your stomach. He tilts his head.

“And take. . .”

You chase his lips, he refuses to give you what you want.

“And take. . .”

Your frustration grows, a desperate sound twists through you, and your fingers curl around his neck, knitting through his hair as you give the curls a warning tug. He doesn’t seem to be affected in the slightest. He drags his lips down your neck, hitches your one thigh up his hip, and positions his length against you. He doesn’t look at you, nor say another word. He fills you with one hard thrust, knocking you back against the wall, your body sliding up the rough interior. The stretch of him lingers on the line of being painful. There’s a bite to it, but also a deep pleasure that makes your legs shake.

“So fucking wet,” he rasps, sinking his teeth into your neck. It feels sharp enough that you think he breaks the skin, blood filling his mouth, but that’s not the case. The feeling quickly passes when his mouth crashes into yours in a messy kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, he doesn’t care. He takes what you give him and he does so violently, splitting you into two with every thrust.

He grabs handfuls of your hips, lifting you off the wall before slamming you back down with renewed fervor. He angles each thrust to the point of almost pain. You cry out, a long, desperate noise that almost drowns out his own, panting gruffly. You can feel the heat in your veins coursing through you as pleasure builds, the almost unbearable sensation sending you into overload. Your toes curl, your nails dig into his skin as his name leaves your lips in a plea for him to not stop. His hands grip you tighter as his movements become more violent, eyes locked together as they both reach the brink of ecstasy.

The look in his eyes, the furrow of his brows, the parting of his lips, the damp curls at the base of his scalp—it does something indescribable to you. You arch your back to give more for him. All your focus narrowing on the feeling of him.

Suddenly your body strains as he stills, the thunderous rumbling of your orgasm hitting you full force as you feel yourself tighten around his shaft in an attempt to prolong the blissful pleasure. His grip slackens and you fall forward against him, boneless as you feel the last throes of your orgasm lingering in your veins. You lick the salt off his skin, your body grinding sloppily against him.

“Fuck,” he hisses between gritted teeth, still achingly hard inside of you. “Already?”

“I—I never came that quick before. . .” you answer with a slight slur of speech, you’re tingling all over.

You’re not sure but you think you see a hint of pride in those dark smug eyes, “Don’t think you’re off the hook,” he says. “You’re mine until the sun comes up.”

Miguel is a man of his word.

He fucks you up against the window, just like he said. Your breasts pressed up against the cold smooth surface as he takes you from behind. It burns. It burns yet you can only beg for more. You scream his name, fog up the window, the rough drag of his cock forcing the roll of your eyes every goddamn time. The feeling of being stretched wide never passes, each thrust like the first time.

He holds you by the nape, pushes you forward, the pressure only adding to the fire. You figure out soon he likes holding you like that. He enjoys shoving you up against things, adding to the idea that you’re just a fleeting moment and nothing more. When he pulls out you instinctively search for him with your hips. His cock lays heavy over the curve of your ass, he spreads you and presses his cock between the globes, rocking until thick ropes of come land on your back. You shudder, breathless, your vocabulary reduced to only his name.

You feel a grip on your chin and he turns you enough so that he can slot his lips against yours. Your neck aches but your part for him anyway, allowing the taste of him to flood all your senses. When he parts only a string of saliva connects you, your breathing coming in heavy pants.

A second later the world around you blurs and you quickly find yourself straddling him above the bed. The old furniture creaking in protest. You forget how nervous you would be if it were someone else, how self-conscience you would be riding a man but Miguel doesn’t give you a chance to think about it. His feet planted firmly on the bedding, he snaps his hips, burying himself deep into the tight fist of your cunt, over and over, until you’re stupid for him.

His name rips from your throat, you can’t even think of saying anything else. You attempt to muffle yourself with the back of your hand but he’s quick to yank it back down.

“No” he utters a low, guttural sound, hands coming up your back. “I said I wanted you to scream.”

He sounds unhinged, like something snapped inside of him. You feel teeth on your collarbone, nails dragging down your back, sharp, leaving long lines of irritated skin. A pleasurable pain blossoming over your skin.

You begin to unravel as you thrust your hips against him, his movements setting off white-hot sparks of pleasure like incandescent lightning. Moans rush from your lips as his name is repeated in a mantra and you cling to him desperately, your hands clawing at his back and your nails digging into his skin as you spiral ever faster into oblivion.

Miguel is relentless in the way he drives into you. You can feel him swell inside you, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He moves his hands to your hips, pushing and grinding against you as every muscle in his body strains.

His breathing is quick and harsh against your ear, his voice a hungry growl, “That’s it, take it. You were waiting for this, weren’t you? Hungry for a cock no matter who it belongs to.”

You can’t answer.

Miguel’s hips thrust harder, faster—his orgasm crashes through him, his hands gripping your hips painfully as he spills his hot seed deep within you. You find yourself trembling as aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you, your body feeling like electricity as you come down from the high. You clench tightly around him, your own overwhelming orgasm ripping through you, overstimulation making you cry out.

He spins you both, bringing you to lay underneath him. Miguel collapses against you, breathing heavy as his grip on you slowly relaxes. He holds you for a moment, your heart thrumming as his forehead briefly rests against yours, breaths mingling. Then, with a satisfied groan, he pulls away. You let out a hiss. It feels achingly empty.

You’re surprised when he starts pushing your legs apart, watching his spend trickling down your folds and making a mess on the sheets. He pushes globs of cum back into you with thick fingers. Your head falls, back arching into his touch. “You made such a mess,” he says, sounding almost transfixed. Cramming fingers inside of you and curling them, your body seizes.

After that, you’re not sure when he leaves. Sleep takes you and when you wake, he’s gone. No note, no message left behind. The only evidence that he was here is the ache between your legs, and the taces of him still lingering on your thighs.

You’re sure you won’t be seeing him again. He got what he came for.

The next night he’s back, climbing through the window for more.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x female reader #across the spiderverse fic #across the spiderverse fanfiction #oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character fanfiction #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

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nats-firefly · 4 months

Text

livestream

camgirl!wanda maximoff x reader

summary: your girlfriend has a stream, and you watch it like the good partner that you are. when she’s done she comes to you to finish her off.

warnings: camgirl!wanda, voyeurism, strap-on use (wanda receiving), powerbottom!wanda, mommy kink, swearing, hair pulling, smut 18+ only

a/n: another repost! sorry it took me a bit to post, life's been a little crazy

🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩

words: 1.7k | feedback is always welcome | masterlist

gif source | divider source

“Hey, babe,” You yelled into your apartment. “I’m home.”

“Hi baby,” Wanda purred, pausing in front of you so you could admire what she was wearing. Your mouth watered as you took in the sight in front of you. Your eyes raked up her body, admiring the way her thigh highs hugged her thighs perfectly, followed by the pretty and sheer white lingerie set and bustier she had on. Her neck was adorned with a simple pearl necklace that matched her iridescent light makeup look. “How do I look?”

“Delicious,” You replied, pulling her into you by her waist as she laughed. Your lips connected to her neck as your hands roamed down to grab her ass. She moaned against your lips, scratching the base of your scalp before sliding her hands down to the front of your chest and pushing you away.

“Careful, you’ll ruin my makeup,” She whined, turning away to look at herself in the mirror hanging on the wall, and smiling once she made sure everything was still perfectly in place. “I’m about to stream.”

“Oh,” You said, pulling her in once again and smirking down at her. She looked at you with a playful grin, fingers playing with the buttons on your shirt. “Tell me I get to help with this one.”

She fake pouted, leaning up on the tip of her toes to give you a small peck. “Not this time.”

“Baby,” You whined, pulling her back by her hips when she tried to walk away, but not before admiring the way her ass looked in that thong. You kissed down the side of her neck, making her whine when you grazed your teeth over her soft skin. “Please, baby.”

“As much as I wish I could,” She took your arms and unwrapped them from around herself. “You’ve helped with every stream in the past month, to the point I’ve been getting comments that they want me by myself.”

You fake pouted, giving her your best puppy dog eyes, to which she laughed and cupped your cheek. “Next time baby,” She turned away and walked towards your spare room, which she used as her studio. She draped her long hair over her shoulder then looked back at you. “But there’s no one saying you can’t watch.”

She closed the door with a wink, leaving you slack jawed standing in the hallway. You snapped yourself out of it and moved to the couch, settling down and clicking on the app your girlfriend was about to get naked on.

You met Wanda long after she started her career as a cam girl, in fact, you subscribed to her and it was only a coincidence you ended up meeting at that club one night. Your relationship had been fast since then, you were completely infatuated with one another, and soon enough you’d moved in together. Wanda has only ever made you happy, and being a camgirl was her job. You didn’t think it was a big deal if she continued doing it and you sure as hell had fun helping her out with it.

Soon enough, you saw her face show up on the app. She started out with her usual routine, explaining the tip goals for her to do anything like usual. You watched her tips come in, enjoying the way she looked on the screen. Wanda started off playing with her chest over her bra, her soft moans making you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, eyes glued to the way you could see her nipples harden through the sheer fabric.

It wasn’t long until Wanda reached her first tip goal, meaning she would be taking her top off. You leaned forward in anticipation, watching as her tits spilled out of her bra. It didn’t matter how many times you’d watched her do this exact action, how many times you’d watched her tits bounce in front of you, every time was captivating. Her body was perfect, she was a goddess, and you were her devotee. You couldn’t get enough of her.

Your hand gripped the phone as she smirked at the camera and started shimmying her underwear off, you clenched your jaw and swallowed hard. She is breathtaking. You watched as Wanda showed herself off in different angles, lightly playing with herself and going slightly further every time she hit another tip goal.

“Fuck, Wanda,” You groaned as she switched her camera angle to show right between her legs. Wanda leaned back hand working between her thighs. You watched her dainty manicured fingers start circling her clit, moans filling the room. Her pussy was already soaked from her playing with herself, and knowing you were watching her drove her insane. She couldn’t care less about the tips coming in, or how many people were watching, the only person she cared about watching her was you. All her streams got better since she met you.

She brought herself closer and closer to the edge, her hips bucking up into her touch. You could feel your temperature rise, like steam coming up from your shoulders. You couldn’t wait until she was done. You watched as Wanda’s back arched in pleasure followed by the loud moan coming from her studio.

“Fuck,” Wanda moaned, the same way she does when your strap is inside her and you knew at that moment exactly what she was thinking about. And like a good partner, you’d make sure she gets what she wants after a long day at work.

You went into your room and put on Wanda’s favorite strap, the one that was private to the two of you, the one you knew made goosebumps erupt all over her skin. When you came out, it was just in time to settle back on the couch before she came out of her studio, clad in her fluffy pink robe. Wanda strutted over to you, moving to stand between your knees. You looked up at her with a lazy grin. She smiled down at you, fingertips trailing your shoulder.

“Did you like the stream?” She asked, biting her lip. Wanda didn’t need your validation but she wanted it.

“I fucking loved it, baby,” You answered honestly, grabbing her hand and playing with her fingers, scooting closer to the edge of the couch to run your hand up her legs through the slit of her robe. “You look so perfect.”

Wanda laughed, hand running through your hair as you tried snuggling your way to her skin through her robe. “You think so?”

“Oh yeah,” Your hand slid up higher to her inner thigh, squeezing her soft flesh. Wanda pulled your head away from her by your hair until your back was flush against the back pillow on the couch. She leaned over you, her face mere inches away from yours. Wanda’s eyes flicked down to the bulge on your pants before she smirked up at you.

“Aw,” She giggled, straddling your lap then sliding her hand down to grab your jaw. “Did that make you horny, baby?”

You groaned, her hips starting a slow rhythm against yours. She tilted her head to the side, gaze sending a wave of heat straight to your core. “You wanna fuck me so bad you went to get your strap, baby? What a good toy, didn’t even have to ask.”

Your hands gripped her hips as you fought against her hold on your jaw to kiss her. Her lips were just out of reach, she was holding you in place just because she knew she could.

“Wan,” You moaned trying to hold her closer. “Please.”

“Please, what?” She asked, leaning her face closer to you.

“Please let me fuck you,” You said, lips attaching to her jaw the second she let up her grip. She moaned as you continued kissing down to her neck, nails scratching against your scalp when your teeth grazed her skin. “Please, I want to make you cum on my cock.”

Wanda felt a shiver run down her back at your words. You always knew exactly what to say. She pulled your head back once again, lifting herself off your lap just enough so you could pull the strap out. You knew what to do.

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” She rasped, sinking down on the strap. “Tell Mommy what you were thinking about while you were watching me.”

“Fuck, Mommy,” Wanda moaned at the title, starting to bounce on your lap. You reached up and slid the robe down her shoulders, giving yourself a perfect view of her tits. “I was thinking about this.”

You looked up at her as she threw her head back, Your hands on her hips guiding her movements. “Thinking about how much I wanted to see you bouncing on my cock,” You bit down softly on the soft flesh of her chest, making her moan out and hold you closer. “How pretty you look cumming for me.”

Wanda moaned out, her movements growing faster and sloppier the longer you continued. You gripped her hips harder, pulling her down roughly in just the way she liked. “Are you gonna cum for me, Mommy?”

Wanda gripped your hair, rolling her hips in search for more. You knew exactly what she wanted and were fast to react, putting your mouth on her nipple and pinching the other one between your fingers. Wanda moaned loudly, arching her back in pleasure as the strap hit her in just the right way.

“Fuck, baby,” She moaned. “I-I’m gonna-”

You pushed her up almost until the strap was fully out before pulling her down in one last thrust, making her scream out in pleasure as her orgasm overtook her. Her body shook as you helped her through her high, enjoying all the sounds she made for you. She tiredly slumped against your shoulder, heavy breathing and eyelids threatening to close.

“Baby,” She mumbled, you hummed at her to continue as you ran your hand through her hair. “I think that was the best thing we’ve ever done.”

#wanda maximoff x reader smut #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #bonk.wanda #bonk.repost #bonk.au

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g0niki · 3 months

Text

drink up ── y.jw

pairing: bf!jungwon x gf!reader

word count: 1.5k+

contents: finger sucking, oral (m! receiving), spit, pretty tame fic imo 🤷

a/n: won helps you stay hydrated lol (idek if this is a thing)😛

you had been a brat all day and jungwon couldn't stand it.

your nagging and bossing around was at an all-time high, the sudden switch in attitude and snappiness being something he couldn't excuse.

he had attempted to get to the root of the issue and talk through it, having a gentle approach and solving whatever the issue may be. you did not have the same in mind, rolling your eyes at him and walking away dismissively.

so of course, jungwon was annoyed!

you storm around the shared space with an almost visible thundercloud over your head. jungwon slumped down on the couch, his tongue poking his inner cheek, eyebrows pinched together as his eyes practically burn holes into you. now that he’s thinking about it, you pissed him off.

the frustration seeping off of the two of you was enough to create a suffocating concoction, both of you too stubborn to figure out a solution.

at this point, everything you were doing was making jungwon’s blood boil. he was gonna confront you.

he followed your smaller figure into the kitchen, determined to have you tell him what the hell was going on.

“what’s going on with you?” you turn towards him for a brief moment, rolling your eyes before walking over to the fridge and grabbing the last bottle of water.

jungwon grabs the cold bottle out of your hands and pushes you against the cool door, one hand near your head and the other loosely holding the bottle next to his side.

“jungwon give that back.”

“do you really think you deserve it?” slightly taken aback you raise a brow before scoffing and reaching for your water, jungwon swiftly moving his arm further from your reach. “I don't think you deserve it pretty. what makes you think i’d just give it to you when you can’t even listen?”

jungwon uses the hand by your head to come down and grab your left wrist firmly, pinning it up next to your head. his other hand lifting the cold bottle to your chin and using it to angle your face up. won leaning in close enough for your lips to slightly graze each other.

“beg for it.”

“… i’m not gonna do that”

won hand releasing your wrist and moving to squish your cheeks together, slightly screening your face side to side as a light tsk leaves his lips.

“aren't you thirsty? get on your knees and beg for it.” he released you from his grip, taking a small step back, giving you the chance to act.

the small, yet spine-chilling smile on his face is enough to have you slowly sinking, knees coming into contact with the cool floor beneath you.

“good girl, now open your mouth and wait.”

and you do exactly that, jaw hanging slack as you watch him slowly unscrew the cap of the bottle. the condensation on the bottle dripping down jungwon’s hand and wrist. the sight is enough to cause you to drool, which didn't go unnoticed by won.

tossing the bottle cap to the side, the small plastic coming into contact with the ground, but you were more focused on jungwon’s hand coming in contact with your bottom lip and swiping the drool from it. he placed his thumb in your mouth.

“come on, you know what to do. suck.” he watched as your lips close around his digit, cleaning your spit off of the pad of his thumb before he’s using that same thumb to yank your jaw back down.

“don’t wrap your lips around it.”

the opening of the bottle now resting against your bottom lip and he tilted up, flooding your mouth with the fresh liquid.

“take it all, just like that.”

you slightly sputter, overwhelmed by the amount being poured down your throat.

“isn’t this what you wanted.” jungwon’s face was now flat, the bottle being tilted up even more with each passing moment, too quickly for you to chug it down at one, your mouth was filled to the brim.

“the bottle’s empty, I guess you could close your mouth.” his eyes fall even darker, annoyed that you couldn't keep up. watching you struggle to gulp the remaining bit, still sitting helplessly on the floor at his disposal.

you finish the last bit, breathing heavily after completing the difficult task.

jungwon lightly taps your face a couple of times as your eyes try their best not to roll back.

won reaching for his belt and unbuckling it in a matter of seconds.

“maybe i need to fuck your throat open before we try again.”

his hand cups under your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. your lashes fluttering up at him, practically begging him to carve a space in your throat with his dick.

a “tsk” sound leaving jungwon’s throat as he looks down on you. his head lolling back and a light airy laugh can be heard from him.

“tongue out, i thought you were thirsty?” immediately dropping your jaw down and letting the pink muscle hang down.

his thumb finding its spot in the middle of your tongue and pressing down firmly, eliciting an immediate reaction. won able to see how your throat tightens around nothing and imagine how well that would feel around his sensitive tip.

his dominant hand reaching down to grip his length and lift it to your mouth, replacing his thumb with his aching member.

“doesn’t that taste so good pretty? spit on it for me.”

won watches as you scramble to fix your positioning, trying your very best to prop yourself up in a way that will let your spit drip down nicely. a small amount slowly making its way to his hard length.

“i don’t think that’s nearly enough, does that seem like enough?”

you nod your head no frantically.

“that’s right, we need more.” you try your very best to build up the saliva, using it to coat his thick and throbbing head.

getting sloppier with each moment, the slippery liquid dripping down your chin and onto your chest. giving jungwon quite the view to take in.

he swears the amount of precum leaking out of his tip would be enough to refill your water bottle, and best believe he would make you sip every last drop. he takes in just how you suckle on the tip, repeatedly teasing it for a moment before pushing it out of your mouth and letting it rest against your lips as spit oozes out of your mouth. although he was enjoying it he just might snap if he didn’t have you gagging around him at a moment’s notice.

and so he makes you do exactly that, placing his hand on the back of your neck and pushing you down to swallow around him, enjoying the surprise in your eyes at the sudden intrusion. the gag leaving your throat and causing the grip around him to tighten enough to almost have him cum.

his thighs tense and his hips push up even more, your tongue gliding against the vein on the underside of his cock.

he watches as your thighs press together, a hand sliding down to help alleviate some of your pain.

the thought of your fingers swiping and your cunt is enough to have him roughly piston his hips back and forward into your mouth.

the way your eyes struggle to stay open and visibly cross and roll around turning him own way more than he would like to admit. the way he’s abusing your throat distracting you from properly getting yourself off.

he swears he sees a puddle forming under you, making a slippery mess on the flooring below.

“you’re gonna take everything i give you. be grateful that i can be so nice to you after all that attitude you’ve given me.”

won gripping the top of your hair and using it to tug you down, your nose touching his groin as his warm liquid fills the back of your throat.

his cum filling your senses and practically going up your nose, causing you to sputter around him.

“close your mouth and take it all.” and that’s exactly what you do. wrapping your lips around him firmly and doing your best not to waste a single drop. you hold yourself down for a moment, struggling to breathe yet determined to do a good job.

and when you are pulling off you keep your lips secure around him, pulling off and watching the mix of cum and spit connect your lips to his cock. using your pretty hand to scoop up the mixture and suck it off your fingers.

wordlessly leaning back in to get anything that you missed off of his dick. maintaining eye contact as you do.

your boyfriend taking it as a challenge and staring down at you even harder, his grip on your hair releasing and his hand coming down to cup the side of your face.

“you’re forgetting something,”

“i don’t think i am..” you challenge once more.

“hm, well then i don’t think you’ll mind not properly finishing?”

“…thank you wonnie.”

“you’re welcome pretty.”

ᯓ★

#g0niki #rey's messy mind #jungwon fic #jungwon smut #yang jungwon #yang jungwon smut #enha smut #enha oneshots #enha fics #enhypen fic #enha fic #enha drabble #enhypen drabbles #smut #kpop smut #kpop imagines

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wtftarot · 25 days

Text

PAC: What are the truths you need to face

Another thanks to @lifeofaie for suggesting this pac. If you've got a pac idea feel free to send it to my inbox!

This one can be a little bit of a call-out, but I mean, it is a reading on what truths you need to face.

as always this reading is for entertainment purposes ONLY and is not a substitute for professional advice in any capacity. Remember use common sense and don't be a dumbass.

Pick either the Sword, the Cat or the Stars and head on to your reading

The Sword

This group is kinda heavy, please be gentle on yourself.

The High Priestess, Four/Cups, The Tower, and the Seven/Wands on the bottom of the deck.

So, y'all kinda already know what truths you need to face. The problem is you're fighting them off. Y'all may be asking spirit or your guides a lot of questions that you already know the answers to. I'm hearing 'where there's smoke there's fire". With the Tower here, there's one truth in particular that you know that if you let yourself look at it head-on, things will have to change. It could even be painful to look at it head-on, (if it is please have some support when you choose to face it) It's like, all the signs are there but you're still iffy on it. This could be a person who you've started to notice the red flags or a situation that you know is bad but you won't let yourself really focus on just how bad. A few of you I'm getting, keep reading romance/ what are they thinking PACs for a person that you know isn't treating you right and maybe ignoring when the readings tell you that. I'm not trying to be harsh or call anyone out. I don't think any of the truths this group is facing are easy, little ones. I'm actually hearing the word "catastrophic". I know how scary it is to face something that you know will hurt. Cause part of it is admitting that it hurt and actually letting yourself feel that hurt instead of pretending it's not there. You are so brave and so so fucking strong and you will get through this. The advice for you is this be gentle on yourself and fucking tough on the situation. This will be hard and you want to give yourself time and space to rest and rebuild your strength. Then kick its fucking ASS. Bad shitty work/living situation? Setting boundaries with a shitty fucking person? Digging yourself out of a mental health pit? All of these are fucking tough as hell but you survived, ya know what that makes you right? Tougher than hell, that's what. Be fuckin cut-throat when it comes to getting things to a better place and then REST, alright? Eat, drink a lot of water, and do things that make you happy. Cause this is fucking hard and you need to take care of yourself. You are smart and capable and you deserve fucking better. Another thing that your guides keep pushing is support, you fuckin need it. I dunno if y'all have been trying to deal with all of this alone or if you haven't told anyone you're struggling but you need to. I'm fuckin serious. Talk out loud to spirit if you have to, just saying things out loud or writing them down can really help you process what's going on in your head. I believe in y'all.

random ass vibes: 10:10, Blue, camping, birds, 90s, cat cartoons,

The Cat

The Emperor Rx, the Star, The World Rx, and the Eight/Cups on the back of the deck

Listen, I don't really do relationship advice but some of y'all need to be told that you can't change him. You can't and no, he won't change for you. And you shouldn't go into a relationship expecting a person to change. That's not for everyone, take it as it resonates. You need to take action towards what you want. Y'all are dreamers and that's awesome. It seems though, they're just staying dreams. I'm a Pisces moon, I'm not judging y'all at all when I say this but y'all really kinda live in a fantasy. Y'all seem to have this tendency to ignore what's in front of you for what it could be. The way it's coming through is that y'all are leaving so fucking much on the table that could EASILY be yours but the fantasy obviously is more than reality could ever be so that's where your mind wants to stay. Thing is, y'all know we don't live in a fantasy and you want to do better in reality. BUT you see the fantasy you have as how things "could" be and when you do act on your dreams and they don't match up to the fantasy, you feel inadequate. Like you're not reaching your potential. So, you get down on yourself and never want to pursue your dreams. I know it's hard to accept that reality can never meet the fantasy we build up in our heads. Reality is messy and in our fantasy we never have to shit or floss or maintain what we have, we just have it. The truth is having to accept that life will never be perfect. There is no perfect relationship, perfect job, or perfect life. No routine is going to magically fix your life. The people you love will always have traits that annoy you a little bit, just like you have traits that annoy them a little bit, but you love each other and know you're both worth mild annoyance. It's time to ground your ideas into reality and let them be imperfect. Let them breathe. Y'all are limiting yourself to the idea of perfection. Your life IS going to be a little fucked up and messy no matter what. Some of y'all ain't even perfectionists, you just don't believe in yourselves and use things not meeting your fantasies as evidence that you can't do it. I'm not getting much in the way of advice for y'all other than to act? If this is your group then I'm betting you've had an idea of what this has all been referring to for you and know what action comes with that. Good luck!

random ass vibes: Gilmore girls? starting tarot reading (hell yeah!) a good nights sleep, 122,

The Stars

Judgment Rx, Four/Pentacles, The Hermit Rx, Two/Swords Rx and the High Priestess on the back of the deck.

So, first thing is: that you can't manifest yourself past the time some things need to take. Some things just take time. Y'all seem to be holding on to this idea that you're not the active force in your own life making things happen? It feels like there's a person or a group of people, or maybe you believe in fate but there's something that y'all are endowing with more power in your life than you. It's like to you it doesn't matter what you want, what decisions you make because it'll work out how this other thing deems it should. Your judgment doesn't matter. Some of y'all even feel like you don't have a say in who YOU are. Y'all may have had or do have really controlling parental figures. But FUCK. That's devastating, y'all. I can't imagine feeling like you're not the driving force in your own life. Listen, I don't believe in fate, destiny, soul-mates, or "meant to bes" and I am not judging y'all if you do but fate isn't engineering every single little thing in your life. It's not all that serious, I promise. You can just do things. It's not all make-or-break-life-altering-weight-of-cosmic-destiny-on-your-sholders. Your life shouldn't be focused on figuring out what your fated path is and sticking to that rigidly. Why? Cause that's not life, babe. That's following a script. The truth for y'all is that you are the driving force in your life and you need to start trying to see yourself that way. And this reading is looking to be short cause it's kinda existential, but you have free will and can choose and act and change things. If there is a "path" it's a vague one and you're making the rest up as you go. You can just step off of it. Anytime. Head in any direction you want. You don't have to be with that person if you don't want to just cause someone said y'all were soul mates. You don't have to choose that career just cause it seems "fated", if you hate it, hate it and leave. YOU make the decisions.

random ass vibes: Russian Doll (tv show), 144, reds and yellows, thumb bone part that looks like a chicken leg lol? Disorientation by Katie Mack

#tarot reading #tarot #divination #tarot community #tarot cards #pick a card #pac reading #pick a pile #tarot readings #pick a card reading #pick a picture #wtftarot #tarotblr #pick a photo #intuitive

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hyewka · 7 months

Note

Omg for your game beomgyu + hybrid ! Except he’s a bear hybrid since I don’t actually see it often despite him being a bear and though I love puppy hybrid gyu I want to see some bear gyu appreciation 😭🤭🤔

⭑ warnings; hybrid!au, switch!beomgyu, wolf!reader, mean femdom, dubcon, fwb, predator x prey, creampie, use of whore and bitch in demeaning ways, not proofread

⭑ send in a small prompt with the format of (member) + (nsfw prompt) and ill write you a small drabble!

you don't exactly know what the dumb cub's obsession with you comes from. you've never looked at him different than any other predator, and yet he has this weird big crush on you. does he know what's good for him or do all preys really just lack critical thinking?

"you're pretty," he babbles in answer of your question as you purposefully clamp down on his itty bitty thing. all it really has is girth. as expected of a bear.

"no duh. but i'm not the prettiest wolf out there so again, why do you like me so much?"

your eyes shoot open when beomgyu unexpectantly starts bucking his hips into your cunt, without permission. who the hell does he think he is?! you're about to curse him out, but as you lose your composure the faster he humps into your heat, he starts talking again.

"but y-you're the prettiest to me."

it's embarrassing how much those words have an effect on you. the heat that rushes up your cheeks is embarrassing, all of it is embarrassing, you're the one who's supposed to have him blushing and yet the dumb cub is the one having you so flustered. you manage to recover, quickly collecting yourself. you huff, taking it upon yourself to hold his wrists together over his head then using your right hand to trail under his shirt, pinching his nipples. that ought to teach him.

"ow! fuck! that hurt!" he shrieks, tears shooting to water his eyes.

"ill do it again if you act out little grizzly, sit there pliant or ill rip your little teddy ears off." he looks angry, frowning at you with his bottom lip stuck out like the baby he is, but really who is he to act like this? you're the one riding him and exerting all the effort while he sits against a tree. he should be grateful that you aren't a bigger bitch.

he looks like he wants to say something, but he keeps it in as his frown transforms to ecstasy, mouth agape as his brows knit together and god, his facial expression really has you horny, hoping you could at least cum from this too.

then he rips it away from you. again.

"gonna cum, keep going you're sooogood at this--h-ha fuckkk"

you blink dumbfounded, does he really think you'll let his dirty litter in your belly? god what a dumbass.

almost immediately you stop and his glossy eyes fly open, he really looks like the most precious thing as he tries and fails to hump you. "no--no fuck!"

you tsk, letting go of his wrists and getting off his dick, dusting off your top. "hoped you'd last a little longer," you murmur pulling your panties up, indifferent to the fact that you just ruined an orgasm for him and he's squirming to try and get his high back with his hand. you could tell he's failing.

it's almost like a power trip leaving the bear on his ass, ruined to shreds against the tree, hiccuping and panting, legs still spread like a whore-- you're satisfied with your work if anything. so you didn't expect to be hurled with your back against the tree, everything going so fast and seemingly out of nowhere, the light switch terrifying with how dangerously close beomgyus face is to yours, with your wrists pinned.

"god you're such a bitch," he growls lowly, and you shiver, for the first time seeing his canines in a more predatory light. "want me to treat you like one? throw you around and give it to you rough like all the asshole predators?"

you don't let your weakness show, trying to bury down your fear. "let me go if you know what's good for you beomgyu." you warn trying to stare him down with the same intense look. it's not as effective as it usually is because he doesn't stop, tightening his hold.

"want me to use you as a body rag? thats what you want right? will that get you to treat me better than a fucking second class citizen? fuck your pussy and breed you with my cubs?"

with every word, it's like venom, your nose flaring, you're pissed. but yet the last bit stirs something deep in you, it's all confusing. why're you into this? you like toys you can control, not someone so unpredictable. who is he to think he could speak to you like that anyway? just because you haven't killed him the first chance you got and kept him around your circle he's acting out like he's better than you, like you've wronged him. you sneer at him.

"i could brush my knee against your dick and you'd buckle to your knees gyu, that's how weak you are. you wouldn't know a thing about fucking me like a bitch." you whisper, keeping the demeaning smile on your face, trying to ignore the feeling of his nails digging into your skin further and further, no doubt bruising.

you expect it, him attaching himself to you again. no matter how much you get a little mean, his lips still crash onto yours, rough and greedy and grossly passionate, like he's trying to convince you of something. it's different this time, he's not holding back, slipping his hand down your pants not wasting any time to rub at your clit, not waiting for any instructions and your body is reacting.

"so wet." he sighs into the feeling of your pussy, squeezing in a second, then a third. "what a whore."

he's fast, he's experienced with his fingers, he knows exactly what you like and it's all your fault for instructing him this entire time. he always had a glint to his eyes, like he'd snap and take you himself. and you guess today was his last straw.

"fuck, beomgyu, i-i'm gonna cum.." it's humiliating, but your pussy clenches around his slender fingers, and you could hear him whimpering, like this gets him off too. even when he's the one in control, he's still as desperate.

suddenly, like your warning is the call he's been waiting for, he turns you back to have your body against the tree, and you know he wants to go along his promise to breed you. suddenly you feel the emptiness of his fingers, and you're about to complain before he takes both your wrists in his hand, having them behind your back, his dick proding your entrance. "ready bitch?"

"beomgyu i swear if you cum inside of me-"

he doesn't listen, of course he doesn't. your tits bounce with each and every thrust and you just hope to the gods that nobody finds you like this. he's totally gone savage, trying to drill his cock deep into your pussy, whispering all sorts of filthy words. if everything before wasn't a big whiplash this was it.

even when you orgasm around his dick, he isn't satisfied. "beomgyu-fuck! stop please it h-hurts-"

"im not stopping until i have your tummy filled. ill make you have my babies." he says with so much conviction, his breath staggering.

"for the last time we can't breed dumb cub!" is what you wish you could say but all you're capable of with the mush state of your mind is intelligible moans. he's as fast and ruthless, playing with your tits when he can, not missing a second to kiss all over your neck.

you've lost to beomgyu of all people, how humiliating.

note; I haven't read over this but hopefully it's okay, crossing my fingers 😭

#✶ ━━ rana ; answered #txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #hybrid smut #🌷. rana thoughts

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jqngkooz · 6 months

Text

'tis the damn season (1) | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: 18+ (no smut in this chapter though!)

genre: f2l? more like idiots to lovers, mutual pining, angst, fluff, eventual smut

warnings: the miscommunication in this is so frustrating (sorry 🙃), previous love confessions, unrequited love (not for long), crying, rejection, very pg sexual tension, alcohol

w/c: 2.8k words

a/n: hiii omg okay so this is my first time ever posting something i've written. i've always been a silent reader but i really want to start posting because i love writing. hopefully this is good, hope you enjoy!

summary: When Jimin convinces you to spend christmas in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with your entire friend group, you’re forced to face the feelings that you’ve been suppressing for your best friend Jungkook after all these years.

Your parents had never gone away for the holidays. Every year without fail they pull out the itchy christmas jumpers that you and your brother hate so much and cook a ridiculous amount of food. So when they told you they were planning on spending this christmas on a cruise ship around the Caribbean, you were left with nowhere to spend the holidays. Sure, your brother had his wife and kids to spend it with, but you? No one. And now it’s five days before christmas and still with no plans you’re not left with many options.

“Jimin,” you groan, “I’m looking for serious suggestions here.”

He doesn’t look up from behind the kitchen island as he chops onions.

“I am being serious. You’re not spending christmas alone with your cat and your vibrator, come with us”

You slump further down into the couch, weighing up your options. Spending christmas alone at your age is embarrassing. The fact that you don’t have a boyfriend and haven’t had one in months is embarrassing enough on its own. But having to see Jungkook again was by far the worst-case scenario.

Jimin puts the knife down, wipes his hands on his apron and comes behind the couch, gently massaging your shoulders.

“Please come. It’ll be so nice. Tae’s aunt has the nicest cabin in the mountains. We can get shitfaced, roast marshmallows, hell I’ll even watch one of those crappy Hallmark movies you love”

He leans down, forehead on your shoulder and puts on his sweetest voice as you sigh.

“Pleaseeee, you won’t even notice he’s there”

The last time you saw Jungkook he had turned up at your door, shaking from the rain.

“Jungkook? What are you doing here? It’s freezing”

You drag him out of the September chill as he steps into your apartment, big black boots treading muddy water on your floor tiles.

He sighs, “Don’t marry him.”

His eyes are big and glossy, staring down at you in the twinkly way they always do.

“Jimin told me he proposed. Don’t say yes. Well I mean obviously you already said yes,” He rambles, glancing down at the ring on your finger as he nervously bounces on the balls of his feet, “but take it back.”

You must look absolutely dumbfounded, watching in confusion as he stands in your hallway soaking wet and pleading.

You shake your head, “No, you can’t do this right now. Are you seriously doing this right now?”

You laugh dryly.

“I can’t believe you. I thought you liked Mark I don’t- I don’t understand”

He takes his bottom lip between his teeth. His nerves running rampant. He knows he has no right at all to spring this on you but he can’t watch you get engaged to this guy that he knows isn’t right for you. He knows that he should have confessed earlier, years earlier. He’s had the chance to tell you since high school and he never did, he was always so afraid that you didn’t feel the same way.

“I do like him, he’s fine. But I can’t- fuck I can’t let you get married to him without you knowing how I feel. You know I’ve always had a thing for you, you’re not stupid. And god, I know this is a bad time but if I don’t say this now I’ll never get the chance to”

No, no, no.

“Please don’t say it” You practically beg.

“I love you. I always have.”

He’s utterly desperate, he’s sure he looks foolish, but he doesn’t care right now.

“I’m in love with you” He repeats.

That night you had turned him away, back into the cold. Jungkook wasn’t much of a crier but his bottom lip wobbled as he stood staring at your front door. It’s not that he expected you to just drop everything, drop Mark, and fall into his arms, but he hadn’t exactly expected you to turn him away either. He stopped hanging out with Jimin and Yoongi after that, too afraid to see you again. He wouldn’t know what to say if he did, ‘Sorry for telling you I love you the day you got engaged’?

“He won’t want me there, Jimin. He hasn’t spoken to me in months, it’ll be awkward.” You groan, resting your head against his.

He chuckles, “You two have got to just get over it. You’re adults for god’s sake. You bickered all the time in high school but you always made up. Please, I really want you there, it won’t be fun without you”

Goddamn Jimin and his persuasiveness.

Somehow, you find yourself piling into Tae’s car. Yoongi slings all of your bags into the trunk before sliding into the backseat next to you.

“Namjoon is bringing Seokjin, Hobi and Jungkook. He said they should arrive around 5 ish so, just a little after us” Tae says. Your stomach turns, what do you even say to him? If you attempt to make conversation you’re certain he won’t reciprocate but if you ignore him that’s even worse. And unfortunately, you love your friends and there’s no way you’ll be the one to ruin this trip for them by making things awkward.

“God I’m so ready for some actual fun. I’m surprised work even let me have christmas off, it’s a nice change not being treated like a slave for once.”

He lays his head back and closes his eyes.

“Nice to know at least one of us is gonna be having a nice time. This is gonna be hell.” You retort.

Tae adjusts the rearview mirror as Jimin hops into the passenger seat before he speaks, “You’ll be fine. You’ll make up, hold hands, maybe fuck it out. Stop worrying”

“Hey,” he adds “If Jungkook’s not willing to, I will”

Jimin grimaces, “You’re sick."

When you arrive, the cabin is huge, a mix of wood and sleek whiteness. Fairy lights twinkle around the outside of the house, reflecting off of the snow.

“Holy shit,” Yoongi squints out of the car window, “This place is amazing, what the hell does your aunt do for work?”

Tae shrugs as he parks up and the engine turns off, “I don’t know, something for the government. She’s not allowed to tell us or some shit”

The boys begin taking the bags into the cabin and dumping them in the hallway.

“Someone needs to get us some food. My aunt said she left some cans and stuff but nothing perishable so.” Tae shouts from the kitchen as he rummages through the cupboards.

You take in the cabin. It’s impeccably clean, with a fireplace below the ridiculously huge TV and a cream couch in front of it. The walls in the living room are painted a forest green and littered with mismatching photo frames filled with old pictures of Taehyung’s cousins and family.

“You were so cute Tae,” You shout back, leaning closer to a baby picture of him standing on the beach, cheesing at the camera, “What happened?”

“You’re going to the supermarket for that.” He quips.

But you don’t mind, you want to see the town anyway. You love the snow and have always dreamed of living way off the grid in a place like this. Sure, the city is great, all busy and fast and full of light but there’s something about a place like this in the middle of nowhere that you love. Maybe one day when you have kids of your own you’ll move out of the city and into somewhere like this. God knows you don’t want to raise them in the city.

You feel like your fingers are going to fall off. Your nose is probably an embarrassing shade of red and you feel like your eyes might actually get iced shut soon. The supermarket is warm, thank god, and you glance down at the shopping list.

Don’t forget wine!!! Is scribbled at the bottom, with a small smiley face.

You have no idea what wine everyone likes, or if they even all like the same wine so you grab a few red and white, along with some chocolate that you’re ready to stash in your room for yourself.

“Sorry, can I just get to the-”

A figure squeezes in front of you, reaching up to grab a bottle of wine. You’d recognise that tattooed hand anywhere. You step back, squeaking out a “sure” that has his head whipping around at the sound of your voice.

“Sorry, I- I didn’t recognise you. Your hair it’s um, shorter” He’s biting his lip. It’s a nervous habit he has, like how he fiddles with his fingers when he’s sad or grins with those bunny teeth when he’s really happy.

On the contrary, his hair is longer, falling down in dark waves that frame his face and partially cover his ears. His lip shimmers with a silver ring, that’s new.

“Oh yeah that’s okay, it is.” You reply, looking down at your shoes like an idiot.

A beat passes. The supermarket isn’t busy and there’s no other shoppers to help cushion the awkward silence. No one comes down the aisle.

He clears his throat, “It’s really nice to see you. How have you been?”

You had thought about this moment a million times over in your head, wondering if he’d be cold, mad, anything. But he’s not. Of course he’s not because he’s Jungkook. The same shy, 15-year-old you met in math class, who whispered the answer to you when he saw the panicked look on your face. He’s probably the kindest guy you know, you’re certain there's not a bad bone in his body.

“Um, I’ve been good yeah. What about you?”

There’s an unfamiliar space between you as you both stand a few feet away. It’s weird. He’s always been a touchy guy, never hesitating to hug you or stand close to you. Seeing him for the first time in months makes you realise how much you miss it all. Even his annoying inability to walk in a straight line, always leaning into you and accidentally pushing you into the road doesn’t seem so annoying right now.

He takes a sharp breath in as you look up at him.

“Yeah I’ve been okay” He starts, “I’m guessing they sent you out for food too?”

He glances down at your basket.

“Yeah, I’m on turkey, veg and wine duty.” You say with a small laugh. He can’t believe how much he’s missed that sound, his stomach turning. Of course he had to ruin what you had by telling you he loved you. He must have replayed that scene every night in his head, cursing himself for being such a selfish idiot.

“Ah I’m on snack duty, just thought I should pick up some wine but I see you’ve got that covered.” He smiles. That damn smile.

Another awkward silence.

“You never called.” You blurt out.

He seems a little taken aback, not expecting you to talk about it so soon. He thought maybe you’d pretend that it never happened. He shifts his weight onto his other leg. The basket feels heavy and he swears he’s sweating under the bright lights.

“I didn’t know what to say. You didn’t exactly wanna talk to me that night. I thought it was better to give you space”

You purse your lips into a fine line, nodding.

“I’m sorry,” You might as well lay it all out on the table now, “about everything. I should have called too. I just want this christmas to be nice and I don’t wanna make It awkward for the rest of the guys. I just um, I just wanna be normal again. With you”

You screw one of your eyes shut, bracing for his response. He nods.

“Agreed. And I’m sorry too. Really fucking sorry.” He laughs shyly, “Say the word and it’s forgotten.”

It’s almost completely dark when you get back, pushing the cabin’s door open. The fireplace is on and the house is loud with laughter. Jimin and Namjoon are standing in the kitchen, the rest in the living room watching a football game.

“Namjoon’s car’s here!” Jimin says happily as you step inside, shaking off the snow. Jungkook follows behind you, closing the door.

“I know.” You shoot Jimin a look as his eyes flicker between you and Jungkook both holding shopping bags. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Sorry, I didn’t know we sent both of you…miscommunication I guess” Jimin says sheepishly.

Once the shopping is put away and the fireplace has finally defrosted you, Hobi brings out the board games. You munch on some pretzels as you all sit on the floor huddled around a Monopoly board.

“You’re totally cheating- he’s totally cheating!” Seokjin sighs out of frustration.

“No, I’m fucking not,” Hobi’s eyes go wide at the accusation. “I had a get out of jail free card.”

“You already used it!” Jimin and Tae say in unison, bursting out laughing. It’s nice, being together as a group again. Yours and Jungkook's fight, if you could even call it that, meant that the whole group hadn’t been together in a while. Even now as everyone argues it’s nice, it’s familiar. As if he can hear your thoughts, Jungkook leans towards you and says quietly,

“This is nice. Reminds me of when we all used to play uno during our lunch periods. You always used to peek at my cards.”

You look at him in shock, “You knew about that? I thought I was sneaky.”

He chuckles, his shoulders bouncing up and down in the fitted black shirt he’s wearing. He’s gotten buffer in those three months you haven’t seen him and you’re wondering how his sleeves aren’t bursting at the seams.

“Of course I knew, I just always let you win because it made you happy.”

You laugh at that. To him, you’ve gotten impossibly prettier since the last time he saw you. It’s like your eyes have gotten bigger and rounder and your smile even wider. If he’s gonna be honest with himself, he’s still in love with you. How could he not be? He has been since he was 16, but something always got in the way. A college boyfriend of yours or his job or a girlfriend of his or your fiancé. Every time he felt like you two might be getting close something came in the way. Library study sessions where your hands would brush against each other and neither of you would pull away, or nights where you’d turn up at his dorm in tears over a stupid boy that hadn’t treated you right, and he’d gotten so close to just kissing you. He was afraid to ruin the friendship you had, always pulling back before it got too real and turning to flings and hook-ups to try and dull the ache in his chest that only you could relieve.

“I really missed you,” he says before correcting himself, “missed being friends with you. I’m sorry that I messed everything up. I wish I could go back and just, not turn up that night.” He runs a hand through his hair, “I shouldn’t have interfered with your relationship, no matter how I felt. I just really want you to know that I’m sorry.”

Your chest warms but his use of the word ‘felt’ isn’t lost on you. You hadn’t expected him to still feel the same way but it still stings. “I missed you too Jungkook. I felt so stupid after I closed the door on you, I should have just heard you out and listened. Mark and I were never going to work out anyway.” You laugh awkwardly and take a sip of your wine.

He nods, “I know but it still wasn’t right. I was an idiot. No feelings are worth losing a friendship over. At least that’s all in the past now right?”

Right, definitely in the past. Your stomach’s definitely not in a knot right now, twisting and turning at the smell of his aftershave as he leans next to you so close that you can feel his body heat. Those feelings are definitely in the past as you look into his big eyes, illuminated by the orange glow of the fire behind you.

You gulp, “Yeah.”

The doorbell rings, stopping your conversation with Jungkook and the ridiculous argument about whether or not Hoseok is cheating. Jungkook stands up, jogging towards the door.

Jimin looks at you confused as if you have the answer. You shrug, everyone’s attention is on the door.

“Guys this is Isabelle. I thought it’d be cool if she stayed for a few days.”

The girl stands in the hallway, pretty and well put together as she sends you all a small wave. Jungkook looks down at her with a smile, squeezing her shoulder. There’s an awkward silence, no one really knowing what to say.

You feel like your heart has dropped so far that it might be in your ass.

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fic #bts x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bangtan #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook x you #fanfic #fanfiction

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delphi-shield · 1 month

Text

contact high // leon s. kennedy

Leon x Reader Pointless Fluff wc: ~1.5k this fic was just an excuse to practice dialogue. [insert kermit 'its not fucking weed you piece of shit stoner' meme here] i think getting obliterated and falling asleep on leon could fix me.

summary: You're gone. No text, no voicemail - disappeared off the face of the earth. or Leon forgets you're at a party and finally has an excuse to practice those breathing exercises his therapist recommended.

content: drugs, leon's POV, gender neutral reader. intended as post-vendetta, pre-death island leon. bro's in therapy and he hates that it's working.

The door's unlocked.

Leon's brow furrows. He stands in the doorway a moment, turning the key again just to be sure he's not falling asleep on his feet. No such luck.

He steps into the apartment and calls your name, a hint of scolding sharpening the edges. How many times has he got to remind you? "Babe, you can't leave the door unlocked. Seriously, I could be anyone."

His own voice mocks him, bouncing back off the empty halls of the apartment. He pauses, shutting the door quietly behind him. He listens for the telltale sound of your presence - your voice drifting from the back room, loud and raucous laughter on a call with your friends, the drone of your latest period drama on TV - anything.

Worry overpowers exhaustion. He doesn't think to check his phone, gets right to snooping instead. Minds like his jump to the worst case scenario first, first responder born and bred.

Start from the top. Leon lets the evidence guide him around the room. Your shoes are in disarray by the shoe rack - not as if they had been disturbed in an altercation, but in your usual, messy way. Indecision, not foul play. The blanket on the back of the couch is wadded up and left in a heap on your side. A half-empty water glass drowns in its condensation, leaves a ring that won't come out later. You’d been in a hurry, but was it forced or absent-minded?

Leon’s hand curls over his sidearm. He's not taking any chances. He's already blown his cover by calling out. Stupid, he thinks. Getting slow in his old age. He spins into the kitchen, checking corners before he checks countertops.

Your keys lay in a heap on top of the mail.

It doesn't mean anything, he tells himself. Not yet, anyway. He scans the rest of the room, looking for other traces of you. Your bag, your phone, anything. Dinner hasn't been left out. The dishes have been put up. There's no sign of a struggle anywhere. It's entirely possible you just stepped out. But at this time of night? It’s almost two in the morning. No - it must have been someone that you had trusted. He flips through every friend you’ve ever introduced him to. Every ex, every bad date –

His therapist's voice nags at the back of his mind, babbling about jumping to conclusions, about assuming the worst case scenario and turning every uncomfortable moment into an operation, clinging to control through procedure, through swift, decisive action.

Deep breath. Look for alternative, easier answers. Not everything is life or death. Taking a hammer to every problem will only break things.

He fishes his personal phone out from his jacket, flips through messages. No new texts or missed calls from you. Not encouraging. Breathe in for four, hold for seven. Breathe out for eight.

Can’t believe these stupid breathing exercises work.

He should just call you. What the hell is he thinking? If he calls and you don't answer, then he can give himself permission to panic.

The phone rings. Once. Twice. By the third time, he's already pacing back to the front door, ready to take his investigation from top to bottom again. He’s already crouched by the shoe rack, searching for anything he could have missed, when you answer.

"Hey!" Thank fucking god. It sounds like you're in the middle of a warzone, but at least you picked up.

Not a warzone, he reminds himself. That’s laughter, not the wail of the dead and dying. He tries to speak past the lump in his throat, but the words get stuck. Breathe, he reminds himself. He tries again.

“Hey.”

The noise of the crowd dims, the latch of a door shut a little too hard - where the hell are you?

"What's up? How was work?"

Are you serious? It’s nearly two in the morning and all you can say for yourself is how was work?

"Fine," he says, trying his best not to be curt. He presses his fingers to his temples, massages the headache away. "Where are you?"

"Jen's birthday."

Shit. That was right. You had that party. Leon marches back into the kitchen, stares at the whiteboard you had plastered to the fridge. You insisted on writing your schedule out for him. He'd thought it was stupid, at the time. He didn't need help remembering.

There it is. Your spidery handwriting haphazardly circled, confetti and noisemakers poorly drawn around it - B-DAY PARTY, 8PM

He drops his head against the fridge door, tries not to sigh into the phone.

“We talked about it last week.”

“I know.”

"I left you a note."

"Yeah, I know."

"Sorry, baby. I would have invited you but there's, like, so much weed here," you laugh. It lights his chest up with warmth - or maybe that’s relief. “In good conscience, I couldn’t invite a fed.”

In good conscience, you say. He snorts, bonks his head against the fridge again. Yeah. You’re high, all right.

“You forgot your keys.” “Fuck!” You’re pouting. He can hear it over the phone. “Sorry. Can you leave the door unlocked for me? I’ll get an Uber. Party’s kinda over anyway.”

Like hell you will. He doesn’t trust those things. A cute little thing like you, getting into a stranger’s car in the middle of the night, high off your ass?

“No, no.” He slips his shoes back on, fishes his keys from his pocket. “Send me the address. I’ll come get you.”

It’s the same roulette wheel of questions you ask him every time he offers to do something for you. Are you sure? Yes, of course he is. I don’t want to bother you. He was literally made to be bothered by you, that’s what he signed up for. Can we watch a movie? Sure, why not. He’ll probably fall asleep, but he knows you’ll beat him to it. Probably won’t even make it past the first scene.

You’re waiting for him on the curb, hands tucked into your armpits to keep warm. Your face splits into a grin when he pulls up to you. There’s that damn warmth again, spreading down his limbs. He leans over to pop the door for you. You’re a little wobbly on your feet, got him worried for a moment that you might have the spins, but you plop into the seat and kiss him in lieu of hello, and his worries evaporate.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs against your lips. Before you can give him your smug little reply, he straightens up, puts the car in gear. “You’re gonna give me a contact high. Gonna fail my drug test. Lose my job.” “Yeah, right. You could be on, like, mega-coke and they’d keep you around.”

“Mega-coke, huh? That the big new thing with kids?”

“You didn’t hear it from me.”

You babble at him the whole ride home, catching him up on the latest drama, pausing for him to interject with no, she didn’t and what a bitch at the appropriate moments. He has to fend off your encroaching hands at stop lights, knowing damn well you want more than just to rest your hand on his thigh. You laugh every time he moves your hand back to your side, your nose scrunching and the corner of your eyes creasing, and he knows there’s no staying mad at a face he’s mapped out countless times before bed, whether he was right next to you or half a world away.

By the time he pulls into the parking lot, your head has knocked against the car window, your babbling slowed. He nudges you gently, big palm splayed against the point of your shoulder.

“Want me to carry you in?” He asks, his voice low. He meant it to sound teasing, but his heart’s not in it.

You stir, fumbling with your seatbelt. “Neighbor’s are gonna see.”

“It’s almost three in the morning.” He reaches across the console and unbuckles your seatbelt for you. You pop the door open and stumble out on your own two feet before he can round the car. He settles for looping his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him.

He guides you inside, makes a teasing joke about locking the door – now, this is called a ‘lock’, you put your key in and turn it so no one can get in. That way your stuff doesn’t get stolen and your boyfriend doesn’t freak out - just to hear you grouse at him and smack his shoulder.

After making a show of locking the door, he drops you off on the couch. He presses a kiss to your hair and trots off to get you a glass of water. He can’t have been gone more than a handful of minutes, but when he returns, you’re crashed out against the arm of the couch, mouth open, snoring softly.

“Didn’t even make it to the movie,” Leon muses. He pulls you to lean against his chest and unfurls the wadded up blanket, draping it over the both of you.

The arm of the couch jams into his back at an awkward angle. He tries to shift down, but you whine and cling to him tighter. It feels like kicking a puppy. He’s going to regret this tomorrow, but he lets you rest. You’re home. That’s all that matters.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil imagine #leon kennedy x you #resident evil x reader #x reader #there's a fuckin splatfest on baby you know i had to post #resident evil fluff

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ashthemadwriter-archived · 1 year

Text

So, I don't know where the hell this came from but I did something.

TW: NSFW content, Friends with benefits, Unstablished relationship, Vaginal penetration

Needy, needy boys.

He's always been taken for a playboy. He comes over in the middle of the night, gets what he wants and then you'll never hear of him...

...until he's in the mood again. Then he comes back with a straight face like nothing happened, everything's fine and he's not treating you like some kind of doll he only plays with whenever he feels like it. And you're stupid, so fucking stupid as your arms are always open, welcoming him into your little corner of solitude.

But after a while, something happens. His smiles are more genuine, his embrace feels warmer than before and most importantly, when you wake up in the morning he's there, already up, staring at your face with a somewhat unknown look.

Then he's gone again. His absence lasts longer than usual. You don't know if you should text him. Would you come off as clingy? This is probably a bad idea. If he wanted to hear from you he would have at least given you a ring. Are you done? Is he abandoning you for someone else? Someone prettier, with bigger eyes and a smaller waist... Doubts and insecurities fill your head, days turn Into months, hope gets lost in your sleepless nights until that night, that one night that makes you feel everything and nothing at the same time.

After receiving that one text "I'm outside", you run to the door to see if you aren't dreaming and this isn't just a figment of your imagination, and there he is, standing in front of you, looking all different. Good different or bad? You can't really tell, and you know what? You don't feel like putting much thought to it either.

He slams his lips onto yours, your clothes are taken, torn apart laying on the floor, you somehow find your way into the shower, the cold water makes you gasp and cling onto him even more. You're soaked under the water but you don't feel clean, body tainted with lust and desire.

Things are happening fast but it's not the same anymore. There's no mind games this time cause he's so needy and been dying out of starvation. Instead of his teeth sinking in your skin it's his kisses, penetrating your flesh, your blood, your soul. He's kissing your soul and you're holding him with a deathly grip, never having enough. Nobody talks. It's just meaningless sinful sounds and kisses, kisses, kisses. He's so needily passionate and it's beautiful; making you feel whole, significant. His lips trap your bottom one and suck it in. He's breathing loudly, you've been kissing for quite a while now but every time you try to part he doesn't let you. It's like he wants to die, drown in your kisses, or perhaps he finds them more addicting than oxygen.

It won't be long till you feel your release approaching and he feels it just as precisely as you, you've literally become one now and he knows your body like the back of his hand. He puts his skills into use and thrusts rapidly, taking his frustration out on your cunt and you're fine with it. He's been deeper than this before but it's never felt this intimate. All his actions are rushed and you know he's not going somewhere; he's just suddenly so needy and you adore it already.

You're shaking, he's shaking and with another thrust, you're gone. Your body is still caged in his strong arms, but your soul has fallen into the land of euphoria. Everything feels numb, the water that's now marking your skin red, the pain in your back, your chest, your heart. It's just him, him and you're in love, glad that he's in love too. You scream as he keeps thrusting through your orgasm and he moans in your mouth, loudly. It's needy, so needy, but so stunning that you can't complain.

When you come down from your high, he finally parts away. You're both panting and desperate for air but there's something miraculously. You look at each other and he's eyes are talking, it's proof that he wants, you needs you, can't get by without you. Looking at this messed up man under the cruel whips of hot water, you find yourself in love. Ah what a beautiful feeling it is, to be able to love and to feel loved. He's with you now, you won't be waiting for him anymore, he'll always be here, that's what you're thinking.

But the next morning he's gone, and this time for good; because you made him feel something,

That he doesn't deserve you.

DAZAI, Ranpo, NIKOLAI, OIKAWA, IWAIZUMI, Kuroo, SUNA, Osamu, Shinazugawa, UZUI, GOJO, Fushiguro, Geto, EREN, MELLO, Vanitas

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augustjustice · 7 months

Text

Pretty in Pink

AO3 Link

I am still firmly on my Stevie Harrington agenda this week, so please enjoy below Eddie's thirsty-turned-sappy thoughts about his favorite girl, inspired by @getlost0p's absolutely delightful art as well @cherrycolasteve's very cute tags.

Eddie taps the pen against his front teeth absently, eyes flitting uncomprehendingly over the various multiple choice options of his practice test. With his brain already feeling fuzzy and unfocused, it’s easy to let his gaze drift away from the page over to the girl currently sprawled out beside him–Stevie Harrington, curled up reading the X-Men comic Dustin had strong-armed her into picking up.

And, look–who could really blame him for getting a little distracted? There's a hot girl in his bed which is, admittedly, a rare enough occurrence–until shit went sideways last spring, at least–to still feel a little notable. Even if she is only there for moral support while he studies, his GED test date circling ever closer.

Stevie's wearing a striped white and pink polo with the buttons undone all the way to the bottom of the neckline and tight stonewash jeans. The absolute preppiest of prep attire, completed by the cherry-flavored chapstick shining red on her lips.

Eddie wants to kiss her stupid.

The jeans are high waisted, pulled up snug over the curve of her ass, and with Stevie rolled onto her stomach reading the comic, Eddie's getting quite the view.

Then she shifts, flopping over onto her back beside him, the movement followed by the sound of pages turning. The new position offers a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage, a further hint of what her clingy polo is doing such a great job of highlighting.

Eddie looks. Of course he looks.

Estrogen has taken to Stevie’s figure like a duck to water. In the plush spread of her hips, making her pert ass even rounder, which Eddie would have thought was damn near impossible. And in the plumpness steadily gathering at her chest, her once defined pecs softening, giving way to the gentle swell of her breasts, which grow fuller by the day.

It’s become something of a problem for him lately–the staring.

That was true, to some extent, even before she started to transition. Stevie's always been gorgeous, and Eddie's always been aware of that fact, harboring a hopeless, from afar crush on her since they landed in the same impossible English class his first senior year and Eddie had become painfully aware of what all the Hawkins High girls were on about. Not that he would have admitted that, at the time, not even under threat of painful, agonizing death–no, the coming terms with it came later, during his spring break from hell spent realizing that Stevie Harrington was not only surprisingly sweet but a totally badass, bonafide hero.

…The whole ripping that bat apart with her teeth thing certainly didn't hurt, either.

The point is, he's always looked at Stevie, flirted with her. Probably been too obvious about it, too.

It's just that since she started to transition, it feels like he's gotten so much worse, like any subtlety he was holding on to by his fingernails has been ripped from his hands. Eddie can’t stop staring at her, the heat of embarrassment prickling his face, tongue-tied like a school boy with a crush each and every time he gets caught.

And that's the worst part of it–he does get caught, far more often than he'd like.

It’d been months, now, since the first time Stevie explicitly called him out for it–a warm Saturday in the summer when they had dragged the kids down to the arcade, trying to beat the heat with the dark, air-conditioned interior of the local nerd haunt.

Stevie had been watching Erica beat her own high score at Duck Hunt, leaned over the machine in her Daisy Duke cutoff shorts and a cropped pink jersey, ponytail swinging against her back and the scars littering her sides unashamedly on display. That’s something they had both been working themselves up to, together–not hiding their war wounds, fighting off the anxiety that came from people’s stares.

But Eddie had been staring for an entirely different reason when Stevie caught him.

As Erica ran off to ‘pummel’ Dustin after his latest Dig Dug win, Stevie propped an elbow on the abandoned game, shooting Eddie a knowing look.

“Like what you see, Munson?” she asked coyly.

Eddie’s entire face flamed with heat.

“I was just–your top!” he blurted. “I was just admiring your top, my lady. It’s…it’s cute. The pink–think that might be your color, Harrington.”

Stevie’s cheeks burned her own pretty pink to match it, then, which Eddie couldn’t help but preen about.

And if he noticed she started wearing a lot more pink around him after that, well…he tried not to read too much into it.

Just like the pretty pale pink she’s wearing today, attracting his eye and forcing Eddie to hold back a twitterpated sigh as he watches her, wrapped up in the bright primary colored pages of the X-Men

…This bullshit of his is definitely gonna get his ass kicked by Robin or Nancy, one of these days, he’s sure of it. Possibly both of them at once–Buck may just hold him down while Wheeler does what she does best.

But the truth is, it's not just about how Stevie’s figure has steadily filled out. He's not gonna lie, that's definitely part of it–but also…she just has this glow about her, now, like she's settling so happily into herself. It’s like that contentment beams out of her, radiant, in every little gesture, every giddy smile. He's drawn in by it, like Icarus with the sun, like a moth to a flame–too entranced to turn away, even if it might end up burning him in the long run.

The thing is, Stevie's beautiful, and she takes his breath away.

She’s become such an intrinsic part of his life, since everything that happened, he’s not entirely sure what he would do without her. Hell, they still share a bed, some nights–fighting back the nightmares together is always easier. And in the intervening months since that started, she's grown steadily softer beside him, curves pressing against his body where there were once hard planes and sharper angles. Her presence is no less warm and comforting than it had been from the beginning, though, her weight and smell familiar, the steady rhythm of her breathing when it finally evens out the same.

Eddie wonders if they were supposed to have stopped doing that, somewhere along the way–the sleeping together part, even though they're only doing it in the most platonic, just-friends sort of way possible. Then again, he's never put all that much stock in it, what he is and isn't supposed to be doing. Besides, how much difference could stopping really have made? Not a whole hell of a lot, in his opinion, considering they've both been bi as fuck the whole damn time.

Sharing a bed all the time doesn't really help his other problem–the staring, the thinking about Stevie's plush curves and soft skin–but that's his own shit to deal with and work out. Stevie shouldn't have to suffer through the nights alone just because Eddie can't keep his hard on for her in check.

So, yeah. He thinks she’s a knockout–of course he does–but the truth is, that’s all secondary to the way he feels about her. She’s steadily grown into one of his best friends, in the time since he’s finally gotten to actually know her. And if all he ever gets to do is look–and better yet, talk to her, bicker and joke and tease, share popcorn at movie nights crammed too close together on the Harrington’s couch and laugh at all the same stupid inside jokes–well, he considers himself honored for the privilege of it.

“What, Munson?” Stevie laughs suddenly, drawing him out of his reverie–during which he had, of course, still been staring–by smacking him lightly on the arm with her comic book.

That had been another secret, shared between them–Stevie liked the X-Men, she’d confessed, even if she couldn’t resist pretending otherwise to Dustin. She said the Mutants made her feel…seen, in a way she really hadn’t ever before.

"I know exactly what you mean, sweetheart," Eddie had agreed easily when she told him.

"Kinda figured you might, Eds,” she had shot him a soft smile, which he returned in kind.

That feeling of being seen–understood–stretched out beyond the pages of the comic book to encompass them both, the way they just fundamentally got each other.

"Mystique's got nothing on you, though," he had added with a wink, falling back on his old routine of borderline flirtation just for the pleasure of seeing her blush yet again, ducking her head as she gave his shoulder an exasperated nudge.

He blinks back to reality, finds himself looking into those same mesmerizing eyes now, big and brown and staring back at him expectantly. A smile plays at the corners of Stevie’s mouth as she puts her comic aside. Scooting closer, she reaches to give one of his test booklet pages a quick shake.

"You're supposed to be studying, you know. Believe me, I get how hard that can be, and I wasn't exactly the best in school…but I'm still like 99% sure you at least have to look at the page before you get it,” she teases. “And I haven’t got the answers to this question secretly penciled somewhere up my sleeve, promise. So, not really sure how staring at me is gonna help you here."

Eddie studies her face–the amused pink curve of her mouth, the cute little moles that dot her cheeks and throat.

That wistful sigh finally escapes him.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologies on autopilot, and then, the confession rolls off his tongue before he can stop it, “you’re just so…fucking pretty.”

As soon as the words have left his mouth, he cringes, preparing to blurt out yet another apology–and then Stevie’s finger presses against his lips. When he glances at her, he finds that her whole face has lit up.

Well, fuck. If she’s gonna look at him like that, he can’t even be sorry for his big mouth.

Then, surprise of all surprises–he feels a jolt as she leans in and pecks him once on the cheek, lips smooth from her cherry chapstick.

“Thanks. You’re sweet, Eddie,” Stevie murmurs, quietly, as she pulls back. Then, her smile turns mischievous, pretty eyes giving one of her patented, exasperated eyerolls. “And good of you to finally say something about it.”

Eddie barks out a disbelieving laugh before he can help it, hiding his face for a moment between his fingers.

“Seriously, Harrington, you know you’re a total babe.”

“Yeah, sure,” Stevie agrees, a glimmer of that overconfidence she’d carried herself with in school shining out. Eddie can’t even lie–he loves it. “But a girl still likes to hear it, now and again.”

“Shit, Stevie.” Head still ducked, Eddie reaches out slowly and takes her hand, twiddling with her fingers as he looks up from beneath the fringe of his bangs. “Now that I know you want me, too–I’ll tell you anytime you want.”

Reaching forward, Stevie tucks a tuft of hair behind Eddie’s ear, not letting him hide behind the curtain of it. Then, she leans in, and this time she presses a soft kiss to his lips.

Eddie sucks in another sharp, surprised breath, finally tasting that cherry flavor for himself.

“I’m totally gonna hold you to that one, Eds,” she says, leaving their foreheads pressed gently together even once she pulls back, “so just get ready for it.”

But, then, a mere moment later, Stevie is bouncing backwards on the bed, giggling when Eddie leans in, trying to chase after her lips again. He groans as she picks up his booklet and presses it against his chest.

“You can check me out all you want later, stud,” Stevie shoots him a wink, flipping open to the page he had left off on. “But, for now…you’ve gotta get back to work.”

When she settles down beside him this time, though, she stays close, hooking her chin over his shoulder.

“And, I’ve got an idea. A tried and true method for studying. Works every time.”

“That right?” Eddie tilts his head to face her, cocking an eyebrow. “Well, lay it on me, then, sweetheart. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

He taps a finger lightly against her temple. The playful twinkle in Stevie’s eyes as she grins at him makes Eddie’s heart skip a bit.

“How about…I give you a kiss for every question you get right?” she murmurs, close enough her warm breath ghosts over his skin.

Eddie lets his eyes drop down to the red shine of her lips, and feels giddy, for once, knowing he can look his fill. After a long, loaded pause, he gives a sharp nod, clapping his hands together.

“You know what, Stevie? Studying never sounded so good.” Snatching up his pen again, he settles back with the test now spread across both their laps. “I’m in.”

And, this time, whenever Stevie distracts Eddie from his studies–well. At least he can tell himself it’s all in the name of a good cause.

#stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #transfem steve harrington #steve harrington #stevie harrington #my writing #my stuff #my things #bi eddie munson #bi steve harrington

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mrsmikaelsxn · 1 year

Text

Santa Klaus

masterlist

pairing: niklaus mikaelson x female reader

warnings: fluff, some gore/blood, nikki being your lapdog, possesive, kissing, cursing, humor that was needed in tvd

summary: just some scenes of you and nik being a dream couple

a/n: idk with this one but these scenes popped into my head and i thought they were cute

song: paper rings - taylor swift

"Niklaus!" you snap at him, as he stands at the doorway covered in blood. You two were at a store and a guy accidentally backed into you. He decided that the man didn't deserve to see another day after bumping into your precious self.

"Sorry, love- actually no, he deserved it," Klaus shrugs holding his hands up.

"Well in that case... come a little closer," you giggle. He narrows his eyes at you, but of course listens. He takes a slow step into the room and freezes when he feels himself soaked in cold water.

You burst out laughing as he stares at the wall. He slowly turns to you, as you continue to laugh.

"Figured you needed a shower, you know, for all that blood," you get out in between you giggles.

"That's it, if I am cold, you're going to be cold too," he grins as he speeds towards you, bringing you into a cold hug.

"Nik! Let me go!"

"Now why would I do that?"

You were in the kitchen baking some cookies. You had the trays of them sitting on the stove as they cooled. You put some on a plate and turn around to get a paper towel. As you look back at the dish, you notice one missing.

"Hm, that's weird," you frowned. This then happened two more times, you realized it had to be Klaus. Either that or the cookies just happen to disappear.

"Nikki darling, stop being a baby and hiding," you pout. "Come out and face me like a real man," you try to say in a funny deep voice.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he suppresses a smirk.

"Do you take me for a fool Niklaus?"

"... no?" you bring your hand up and smack the back of his head.

"Hey, what was th-" you cut him off by pressing your lips on his. You swipe your tongue on his bottom lip so he opens his mouth. He does, and you allow your tongue to roam his mouth. You pull back a few moments later.

"Funny, you taste like chocolate chip cookies," you laugh and start to run away.

"You sneak!" Klaus yells as he speeds up to you, throwing you over his shoulder and smiling at your adorable giggles.

"AH!" Nik's high pitch scream reaches your ears while he jumps and covers his eyes.

You two were currently in the dark, watching a horror movie. You have seen it a few times already, so the jumpscares didn't bother you. The movie didn't interest you anymore either, but you watched it for the mere amusement you get from seeing Nik get scared.

"Nik don't be a wuss," you playfully roll your eyes.

"Did you see how that man looked?! He was- bloody hell!" Nik shouts as the guy popped up out of nowhere.

"Niklaus, you're as scary as that man to most-"

"Tosser! If I were still human, I would have died from a heart attack by now- fuck! Okay, love, that's it, we are watching something else"

He reaches over you and snatches the remote, putting on toy story.

"See, watching the story of toys that come to life is much more interesting. Don't you agree, love?"

"Sure... baby," you mutter with a grin. Laughter spills out of you when he attacks you with tickles.

It was Christmas, you were dressed in a lovely deep red gown and your hair and makeup was done. While you looked like royalty, across from you was a Nik in a Santa costume.

You had been trying to get him to do this for years, but he never agreed. He refused to have something as stupid as a Santa costume ruin his reputation.

He even said, "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing this bloody thing"

To which you replied, "oh well, then I suppose it's a good thing you are already technically dead," you shrug with a cheeky smile.

Now that he finally gave in, your bucket list has been completed. He said he wouldn't leave the house with it, but he didn't say you couldn't take pictures.

"I don't see what's wrong with it, you look great in my opinion," you gave his fake beard a little tug.

"Y/n this was a horrible idea," he shakes his head.

"I think it was a great one, Santa Klaus," you give him a bright smile.

"This was very unnecessary, love"

"Your siblings disagree," your pretty lips turn into a small smirk.

"I beg your pardon?!"

A few moments ago, you sent some pictures of him to a secret group chat you're in with his siblings. Nik - of course - isn't in this one. The one with all of you is full of threats he sends to his family who mess around with him.

The photos got you replys such as, "I can't believe you got Niklaus to finally agree to that, LOL," from Elijah. "You underestimate Nik's love for you," and "I'm going to print these out and tape them everywhere in the house," from Rebekah. As well as, "I bloody love you, darling," and "my brother is going to kill me for what I'm about to do with these," from Kol. Finn gave you a simple, "well done," which you almost rolled your eyes at his unenthusiastic message.

"Oops," you shrug with a fake innocence.

You were currently hunched over, laughing your arse off. You got Nik to wear an Easter Bunny costume. To your surprise, he let you paint whiskers on his face, along with a pink nose.

You finally are able to stop laughing, and look over his shoulder at the line of little children in a line, waiting to take picture with him.

"Go on, bunny. The kids are waiting," you peck his lips and pat his head.

"If you were anyone else you would be dead by now," he grumbles.

He was taking the pictures, when it was a new kids turn. You saw the fear in his eyes, you understood. You were also scared of the Easter Bunnies and Santa Clause's that you would see in stores and malls.

When he got to Nik, he sat on his right lap and started to cry. As you were about to go over, you hear Niklaus yelp as he quickly grabs the kid and lifts him off his lap and on to the floor.

You were confused when he rushed over to where you were standing, but burst out laughing with tears in your eyes as you saw a wet stain on his leg.

"Oh- m-my goodness! Th- this is gold!" you laugh out, grabbing your phone taking more pictures that you'll send to the groupchat later.

"Stupid children, I quit"

You and Nik were in some random fancy restaurant in Paris. You both knew nothing in french, so you though you would have some fun.

You planned out a fake scenario to get a reaction out of the people in there with you both.

You fake gasp loudly, grabbing peoples attention around you.

"You sick fool!" you place your hand on your chest as you dramatically stand up. "You cheated on me?! With my sister!"

The room fills with synchronized gasps from the people around you.

"Love! No, I would never!"

"I just saw a picture! I also got sent a photo of you with what looks like my best friend!" More gasps come around you as people look between you both in shock.

Nik stands up hiding his amusement.

"They are fake! I was going to propose to you tonight! He says pulling out a fake ring he found," holding it in front of you, people start whispering with interest at what was unfolding before their eyes.

"My friend had the same ring the last time I saw her! How could you," you slap him in the face, knowing he was going to whine about how that was not a part of the act, later. Gasps of shock chorus around while some people have their eyes wide, and some are laughing into their hands.

You turn and speed walk out as Nik follows. Once you get outside, you both burst out laughing after holding it in for so long. You hold out your hand for a first bump as he connects his fist with yours.

"Oh that was brillitant!" you smile, wiping fake tears from under your eyes.

"Did you see their faces, love? They were bloody hilarious," Nik grins.

"NIKLAUS! Y/N!" are the shouts from Kol and Elijah as they get covered with eggs and flour. You, Bex, and Nik set up a series of pranks to go off on them.

"Alright!" Bekah highfives you with a bright smile.

"Nikki we should do more pranks with Bex," you hug the girls waist.

"But pranks are our thing," he pouts.

"Now they are ours and Bex's," you give him a thumbs up.

"Yeah, Nikki- please don't dagger me again," Bekah says looking away from her brothers death glare.

"FUCK!" more shouts come from the kitchen.

You and Bekah were shopping with a grumpy Nik trailing behind you. You had been at this for at least three hours now and he wanted to go back and cuddle with you in bed.

You just tried on a tight club dress and stepped into the couch area were the other two were waiting.

While NIk was drooling over you, suddenly happy about shopping, Bex stood up and walked over to you.

"Perfect! You look so hot!" Nik nods as Rebekah's statement while still staring at you in awe. "Those boys through the window seem to agree with me," Bekah nods her head in the direction of the window where a small group of boys around your age were drinking in your figure.

Niks head snaps over to them and his face hardens. He stands up and walks over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"You look bloody stunning as always, my love," he kisses your head. "We are buying this dress. You know, I don't know what I did to deserve you,"

"You didn't have to do anything," your lips tip upwards.

"Ugh, you two," Rebekah rolls her eyes. "Nik is not coming with us next time, you guys are too sappy, makes me sick," she sighs.

"Don't be jealous, Rebekah"

You were finishing up some final touches on a tray of pastries you baked for Nik. You made all his favorites and decorated them to look cute. You hear a knock on the door and look out the window. You see Nik at the door with flowers in his hands.

You open the door and smile at him, "Nikki, hello!"

"Hi, love," he smiles and pecks your lips. He hands you the flowers as he strolls in the house.

"Oh, Nik! Come in the kitchen"

You pick up the pastry tray after putting the flowers in a vase. "Tadaaa!"

"My favorites! Thank you, sweetheart," he kisses you.

"You are very welcome, thank you for the flowers"

"You are very welcome. I love you so much, you know"

"Of course I know, I also know that I love you so much too"

2K notes · View notes

daydreaming-nerd · 2 months

Text

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 3

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: Sorry these are taking longer than normal, after the 25th I'm a free fuckin' agent and if you check my updated masterlist you will see I have so many things in the works.

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, SA

Word Count: 4,189

Another week had come and gone. A week full of tight corsets, uncomfortable shoes, trips to the Autumn Court and of course, snide comments from Eris.

As of late I had begun having nightmares. The kind that left me screaming in bed with no one to hear me. The kind that had me waking up in a pool of my own sweat. It was the same every time, I was the dog in the back of Eris’ kennels. Scared, alone and caged. I would scour the entire cage for a way out, my finger with that giant wedding ring on it scouring the straw covered floors, never once finding an escape. Eris would come in and bend me over like an animal and sometimes I would wake up before he used me and sometimes I would wake up after.

Regardless I was left unable to sleep. So I had taken to my dear brother's liquor cabinet to procure my own sleeping tonic, whiskey. For a few nights it has worked to put me to sleep, but not tonight.

I swirled the last little bit of whiskey around the bottom of the bottle before slugging it all down. I had been slowly nursing the bottle the past two nights knowing that tonight might be my only night to procure a new bottle without anyone seeing. Tonight was boys night at Rita’s meaning that Cassian and Azriel were out with my brother and no one was home to fuss over my new drinking habits.

I toss the empty bottle off the side of my bed and slowly but surely get up, wrapping myself in my silk night robe. My feet wobble beneath me as I make my way to the door, thankfully I know the way to the kitchen like the back of my hand. The only real obstacle being the long dark hallway, but even that’s a straight shot.

I close the door of my bedroom quietly behind me in case there are any maids wandering about the dark hallway that I can’t see. I walk in as straight a line as I can and it isn’t long until I run smack into a wall. When the hell did that get there?

“Princess? ” Cassian hiccuped

It takes me a second to realize the wall I ran into was Cassian, and I start to feel a little better, that is until I start to wobble again.

“Are you drunk?” Cassian hiccups again and I feel his hands on my arms stabilizing me. The smell of cedar, leather and whiskey floating over to me.

“Yeah, but you are too,” I pointed out, pushing a finger into his rock hard chest for emphasis. My eyes adjust to the dark lighting and I can see his face peering down at me. That sculpted, beautiful face that they should really write sonnets about.

“Have to drown my sorrows somehow,” Cassian shrugs, letting go of my arms, stumbling back on his feet.

“Pfft, like you have any sorrows general,” I scoff, starting to move past him. I trip on his foot and nearly fall over, the only thing keeping me from getting an awful rug burn is Cassian catching me by my upper arm.

“Shit princess I can barely walk but let me get you a glass of water,” he says, putting me back on my two feet again.

My heart flutters at his kindness, “You would do that?” I smile drunkenly.

“I’d do anything for you y/n,” Cassian replies and I can tell by the expression on his face that he regrets the words the moment they come out of his drunken mouth. It dawns on me that I’ve never heard Cassian call me by my name before, and I quite like the sound of it.

“W-would you really?” I stumble letting my drunk mind do the talking.

“As long as you’ll let me, I’ll do anything for you princess,” he reiterates and I don’t miss how he switches back to my formal title once more.

“Cassian,” I breathe, unable to say anything more.

“Anything, just tell me what you want,” he says quietly.

My mind swirls with all the things that I want him to do. Get me a glass of water, take me away from here, kiss me. But all those lead to one common bad ending…

“Eris,” I whisper, realizing how close Cassian is to me.

“Don’t marry him,” Cassian slurs, wobbling a bit as he places his hands on my hips. The feeling of his hands on me, and knowing that the only thing separating his skin from mine is a thin silk robe. He seems to realize it too as his glassed over eyes look me up and down. It’s enough to sober up my mind and realize what’s going on.

“You shouldn’t touch me,” I say. “I belong to Eris now.”

“Not yet you don’t,” he hiccups for the third time. “Please, don’t marry him,” he says, getting even closer to me.

I push Cassian off me and he stumbles back, “You’re drunk Cassian and I am too. We should both go to bed, we have a big day tomorrow.” I say stumbling back as best I can towards my bedroom.

The general doesn’t say anything, doesn’t protest or beg and as I step into my bedroom I don’t miss the curse he mutters to himself before waltzing into his own.

The next morning I wake with a raging headache that has me in bed until it’s time for me to attend dinner at the Autumn Court. If it wasn’t for my ladies maids I never would’ve left the warm cocoon of my covers. But I did, and in place of soft sheets was a death grip of a corset and I swore it was tighter than the last one. I looked in the mirror and realized that they had been choosing more and more revealing dresses for me, this one I was sure I had never seen before now.

I made my way into the foyer where I knew Cassian would be waiting dutifully and sure enough the second I walked in his eyes turned to me. I searched for a sign of regret or awkwardness in his eyes given the events of last night, but all I found was Cassian. Handsome, strong, loyal and wonderful Cassian, and a part of me sighed in relief knowing I wouldn’t lose the one life line I had when I was in Eris’ territory.

“You ready to go?” He asks me as he always does.

“I think so,” I answer walking over to him so he can scoop me up.

We take off into the air and the second we are airborne I feel a chill run up my spine. We don’t normally head to the Autumn Court so late in the day, and without the sun to warm my skin the cold seeps in. A cold that has me curling into Cassian more and I swear I feel his arms tighten around me.

“So dinner with the potential, future in-laws tonight?” he asks.

“I suppose so,” I sigh.

“You’ll do great, don't worry,” he smiles trying to lift my mood.

“And what if I don’t want to do great? What if I want things to go so terribly that Eris breaks off the engagement and starts a fight?” I bluster, half joking.

“Then I’ll hold while you punch Princess,” Cassian laughs and the vibrations roll through my body.

“Good dog,” I joke and Cassian erupts in a fit of laughter that warms my soul.

By the time we get there the Autumn Court is lit up with fae lights and the way they illuminate the colors of the autumn trees is breathtaking. Even in the distance I see and feel Eris’ presence like a dark cloud looming over me. Cassian touches down on the front steps and places me on the ground like I’m made of porcelain.

“Good evening my little flame,” Eris greets me, allowing his hands to fall to my waist pulling me in for a kiss. This past week he has gotten more comfortable with affection, but thankfully he had never repeated what happened under the willow tree.

“Good evening Eris,” I give a fake smile as he takes my hands in his. It was my last visit that Eris insisted that I dropped the formalities of calling him Prince Eris, something I felt was off character.

“I have a gift for you,” he smiles, pulling a long black box out from behind his back. He opens it revealing a necklace made up of large rubies. No doubt part of the crown jewels of the Autumn Court.

“Oh Eris! It’s beautiful,” I smile, running my hand over the large gems. I hated to admit it but they were truly breathtaking. Something I would’ve asked my brother to gift me for solstice. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Eris plucks the necklace from the velvet box and motions me to turn around so he can put it on. “I might’ve had ulterior motives,” he smirks, placing the jewels over my neck and clasping them on.

“Well thank you, I really do love it,” I say, running my hands over the large jewels one last time.

It isn’t until I feel the weight of the necklace and hear his words that I realize that ulterior motive. This isn’t just a gift, or a necklace, or even a family heirloom. It's a collar. One meant to show that I belong to him. The weight of it suddenly becomes burdensome and doubles as Eris stands back to admire the necklace now that I’m wearing it.

“It looks perfect on that beautiful little neck,” he smirks, offering me his arm that I take politely. “My family is very eager to meet you. Especially my brothers who have only ever heard stories of your beauty.” he says leading me inside.

“Well I hope that I can live up to my reputation then,” I smile as my heels clack along the marble floors.

“In that dress little flame,” Eris says, looking me up and down, eyes lingering on the cleavage the neckline showed off. “You will be like a walking temptation.”

We make our way to the large dining room and my eyes scan the table. Mounds and mounds of food and wine are littered all over it, enough for the whole court I presume. Everything from duck to boar, no doubt from Eris’ hunts. My mind flashes to the hounds in the kennel and I actively push the thought away.

On one side of the table sits Eris’ six brothers, all of them alike in age. At the head of each end sits Beron Vanserra and his wife. I look for an empty chair, and only find two.

“It’s wonderful to see you again princess,” Beron booms as Eris pulls my chair out for me.

“And you as well High Lord,” I smile bowing to him.

I’m thankful for the chair that now supports me from beneath as I feel my knees start to wobble. I look around at the table once more now that I’m seated, and the plethora of red hair and piercing eyes is enough to make me feel like I’m a lamb shoved in a wolf's den. I feel Cassian taking up space by the door and my heart breaks knowing he must be hungry too.

“Excuse me High Lord,” I ask, pulling Beron’s attention. “But I wonder if you might procure a seat for my guard so that he might enjoy this divine meal as well.”

“Bastards are not allowed to sit at this table,” Beron says with a cool, calm, authority that I almost envy. My blood boils at his words, and tears nearly brim my eyes. Cassian was so much more than a ‘bastard’. Gods, one Cassian was worth more than everyone at this table combined. But to say that would mean my head on a platter.

“Of course my Lord, I don’t know what came over me,” I apologize, bowing my head in submissal.

“Darling you simply must try the wine,” Eris says pouring me a glass.

I swirl the red liquid around and give it a sniff. The strong scent of dark, ripe berries hits my nose. I take a sip and though I hate to admit it, it tastes like heaven. Or perhaps my body is aware that the effects of this wine are the only things that will help me get through this dinner.

“It’s amazing,” I beam looking at my glass. “I love bold reds.”

“From our vineyards here in the Autumn Court,” Beron says proudly. “I’ll be sure to send a case to your brother for you both to enjoy.”

“We would love that, thank you.” I smile while taking another sip.

The table falls into a comfortable conversation and I do my best to keep my head down like Beron's wife, as whatever behavior she portrays will likely be what’s expected of me. So far her etiquette imitates what Eris so crudely said to me just a few days ago…Wives are meant to be seen and not heard, except for in bed of course. Men do love the little whimpers of pain women emit when they are deflowered…

I suppress a shudder at the remembrance of those words, and even though the comment that floats to my ears is another bit of sexist garbage, I’m sadly grateful for the distraction.

“By the gods she is perfect,” one of Eris' brothers says quietly to the other.

I try to hide my blush with another sip of wine, followed by another chunk of potato. Doing everything I can to pretend that I can’t hear the conversation the three brothers in front of me are quietly having.

“Look at her tits,” another one rasps his eyes not so subtly glazing over me, the other brother in the conversation doing the same. I suddenly feel like I’m a piece of livestock up for auction.

“How is it that Eris gets to have the Jewel?” the third one asks quietly, but not quiet enough to escape Eris’ ears.

“Because I am the eldest!” Eris shouts, slamming his fists on the table, and the only person who doesn’t jump from his outburst is Beron. “And you’d do well to hold your tongue in front of the potential mother to the heir of the throne you’ll never inherit.”

I can see the other side of the table debating whether to fight back or not, but it’s Beron who breaks the silence with the ease only a High Lord could do. “I assume that you and your brother will be attending our ball celebrating our fall solstice later this week princess?” Beron asks me.

“Yes of course,” I tell him, setting down my glass of wine.

“Wonderful! We’re quite excited to have you both in attendance. It is our fist ball since our time under the mountain,” he explains.

“Who else will be attending?” I ask, swirling my wine around in its glass.

“All the High Lords and the most trusted members of their courts,” Beron answers and it takes everything in me not to laugh.

My mind flickered back to the months before my family locked me away, months where every High Lord would fall to his feet and beg for my hand in marriage. No doubt Eris would now play the role of fighting them all off and the image of him being an angry and frustrated toddler brought me joy.

“Then I hope your son isn’t a jealous man,” I smile while sipping my wine. “Helion is a good friend, but he’s been asking my brother for my hand for years. Rhys practically had to beat him off with a stick.” I laugh, the effects of the wine taking over.

What’s meant to be a lighthearted joke turns sour as I see the flames dance in Eris’ eyes, “Jealousy is a weak emotion, princess, But rest assured, I have no intention of allowing any man to lay claim to what is rightfully mine,” he starts and leans into my ear so only I can hear him. “And if Helion continues to pursue you, I’ll just have to deflower you right in front of his very eyes.”

I want to come up with a witty response. I want to yell or scream or defend myself for the love of gods, but I can’t. All I can do is swallow the fear within me with another sip of wine and hope this den of wolves doesn't scent my fear.

The rest of dinner is quiet and uneventful, I let the men converse, keeping note of the many glasses of wine Eris consumes. I turn my attention to the only other female at the table and I try to study her every move. Beron's wife says nothing, and I note that it’s my job to do the same. A pretty little wall ornament indeed.

“If you’ll excuse us father,” Eris says standing up. “I would like to take the princess on a little stroll.”

“Very well my son you are excused,” Beron nods to Eris. “I look forward to seeing you later this week my dear.” Beron says to me.

I nod, trying to keep the illusion of submission up and Eris leads me out of the dining hall and down a dark hall. The chattering voices no doubt talking about me drifting off behind us. As we get further and further away from the dining room, I start to feel my stomach drop. Something is wrong, something is terribly wrong. But like usual, I don’t have the voice to say anything. We come across another dark hall, one so pitch black I would think it’s an endless void if it wasn’t for the light at the far end.

“Sit and stay bastard,” Eris growls towards Cassian like he’s one of his hounds. “I require a private moment with the Jewel.”

Cassian grumbles but allows Eris to lead me further into the shadows, the only way he could see us at this point is the faelight at the other end of the hall that would cast our silhouettes onto the floor. I try to throw him a frightened glance, but just like many times before, Eris seems to have found a way to keep me from doing so.

“The general seems quite attached to you, it’s nice to finally have some time alone,” Eris says as he leads me through the long dark hallway. I swear I’d bump into a rouge chaise or grandfather clock lining the wall if it wasn’t his arm in mine.

“Cassian has my best interest at heart, he wants to keep me safe,” I reply, trying to keep my voice from sounding confrontational.

“And he believes that I couldn’t keep you safe?” Eris retorts and I nearly scoff.

“It’s not that, I think he believes you might take certain…shall I say, liberties with me,” I mumble trying to keep my head low.

Eris' body tenses next to mine and I know I’ve made a grave mistake. “You’re mine, I can take whatever liberties I wish to.” he growls and before I know it my back is against a wall. “If he thinks I’ll marry you without trying you out he’s more of a simple minded bastard than I thought.”

“Eris please,” I breathe trying to rip my wrists from his grasp but it’s no use.

“Are you fighting or begging, little flame?” he muses, wine scented breath brushing my neck. “Either way it makes my cock hard.” he smiles, pressing his lips to my neck.

His body is flush to mine and I can feel one hand pinning my wrists to the wall in a way that will leave bruises while the other explores my body. His lips are hot and wet on my neck and chest wandering dangerously low.

“This isn’t proper,” I protest and try to wiggle out of his grasp for emphasis but I only succeed in grinding myself into him more.

“Then I’ll make it fucking proper!” Eris seethes gripping my chin to make my gaze meet his. Those amber eyes are somehow darker and more intimidating in the low light. “Now be a good girl and let me kiss you,” he smirks before pressing his lips to mine.

For what it was worth Eris hadn’t made any advances on me since the first time under the willow. But tonight, with the copious amounts of wine flowing through his veins? Well it must’ve been just enough for his resolve to snap. His lips still taste like venom, everything about him all wrong. It takes everything in me not to get sick all over his perfectly tailored jacket.

“Eris stop it!” I whine pushing him away further.

“I must have you my little flame,” he groans and I feel his hands grip my skirt.

My heart starts to race even more, and if I wasn’t going to be sick before I surely was going to be now. His mouth resumed its assault on my neck, messy and needy just like earlier. Large hands bunch up the layers of fabric and tulle until the cold air hits my bare legs.

“ERIS STOP!” I screamed pushing him off me with all my strength and it was enough to make him stumble.

A dark shadow appears before us as if it was transported there, “Eris that’s enough! It’s time for the princess to go home.” Cassian roars.

“Stay in your place bastard!” Eris seethes. “She belongs to me. I can use her however I like!”

“She belongs to no one! You have no right to compromise her virtue before you wed her. Rhysand won’t allow it.” Cassian continues, the voice of a general coming through. One so demanding even I would lower my weapons for him, apparently not Eris.

“Ha!” Eris laughs, thrusting a hand out to grab me by my neck. His grip is like a vice, a collar that burns hotter than one he already gave me. “Didn’t you hear her little begs? I think she might want to be deflowered before the ceremony. Wouldn’t you pet?”

Cassian’s hand strikes, grabbing Eris’ wrist. The one connected to the hand wrapped around my throat, “All I have to do is squeeze and that hand won’t hold a bow for months and I have the authority to do so. Get your fucking hands off her before I shatter your entire arm,” he growls and even I feel fear from his tone.

The deafening ringing of the clocktower bells chime throughout the palace like the voice of the gods dampening the tension in the air. The seven chimes signal it’s time for me to return home once more. Eris releases me, and against my better judgment Cassian releases Eris. But it doesn’t stop them from staring daggers into one another, if Cassian jumps now it’ll be his head on a pike and I’d rather die than allow that to happen.

“Cassian is right,” I say to Eris standing between the two of them. “It’s better if we wait. If you choose to marry me, imagine how amazing our wedding night will be.” I smile at Eris, pulling him for a passionate kiss, hiding every ounce of disgust I feel.

“That’s more like it, my pet,” he smirks, glancing up at Cassian in a challenge. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Until then,” I smile, letting Cassian lead me away.

The second we are around the corner that shields us from Eris’ view we both begin walking much faster. As if the eldest son of autumn is a monster at our heels and we have limited time to get out of this gods forsaken palace. When the crisp air of Autumn hits my skin Cassian doesn’t even ask if I’m ready before picking me up and shooting me into the sky.

“We need to go talk to Rhys and tell him what happened,” Cassian said, his wings pounding with a new urgency.

“No!” I protest. “We can’t tell him. I don’t want him to have an even more guilty conscience than he has from the last fifty years.”

“Princess you saw what just happened back there! Eris was going to take advantage of you. Rhys deserves to know.” he argues.

“If Rhys knows he’ll call off the courtship and if he calls off the courtship then I can’t marry Eris which means I can’t save my court,” I explain.

“This has gotten out of hand princess, we have to tell your brother,” Cassian grumbles.

“Cassian please, don’t take my choices away from me. I love my court and I love my family. If this is how I can help all of you in the war I want to,” I shrill. “I can take ‘the sky is falling’ from just about everyone but you. I need you to support me Cassian.”

I look into Cassian’s eyes and I can see them still burning with unmatched fury. I let my own eyes plead to his, trying to convey how badly I needed him to stay quiet about what had happened. How badly I needed him to let me do this, to trust me. His eyes softened and his gaze fixed itself on the flight before us.

“Fine,” he shook his head. “But if he pulls a stunt like that again I won’t stand by and watch this time.”

“Of course not general,” I smile, watching the wind whip the stray hairs from his face. “I’ll hold while you punch.”

Though he tries to hide his amusement at my joke, Cassian’s mouth can’t help but turn up into a half smile.

Part 4

Taglist: @crystalferret202 , @nickishadow139 , @graceshifts , @writeroutoftime, @heyyitsnat21, @stinkinstuffie , @lilah-asteria , @12358

175 notes · View notes

inoreuct · 3 months

Note

more sanji drinking angst plis,,, 🙏🏼😁

y’know, it’s normal when zoro drinks. he has an iron liver and a sky-high tolerance. he get mildly tipsy with the amount of alcohol sufficient to kill a regular man.

when sanji drinks, though, it’s usually… not very good.

they’re in the galley, have been since dinner. zoro’s drowsy and full and slumped over the table with his chin in his hand as he watches sanji scrub at the dishes until they squeak, divested of his suit jacket and shirtsleeves rolled up to the elbow, and the cook looks haggard. they’ve all been expecting it, really, what with Whole Cake being a fucking doozy— but sanji’s been holding it together perfectly. big smiles and neatly-pressed suits and coiffed hair and all.

zoro knows him well enough to know that he’s due to break at some point. still, tonight is the first time he’s seen sanji like this; like he’d just decided to say fuck it all and throw pretence to the wind. maybe it had been thanks to the emptiness of the galley, save the both of them. maybe sanji had considered it safe because zoro was in no place to judge.

but when sanji had picked up that bottle of rum, he hadn’t put it down until there was nothing left.

zoro had let him drink. the cook hadn’t even been smoking any more than usual— hadn’t had a single hair out of place, no sign of the pressure except the strain at the edges of his smile. everybody had been walking on eggshells for the past few days and sanji had just kept going like nothing was wrong, which zoro knows means quite a lot is wrong, because sanji’s a self-sacrificial bastard who wouldn’t be able to ask for help if his life depended on it.

didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt, though. he’s felt like he couldn’t breathe, the whole of last week; it doesn’t feel right seeing the cook with a bottle between his lips instead of a cigarette, liquor wetting the corners of his mouth instead of smoke. it makes part of zoro tighten into a dead knot. on one hand, it’s an unspoken show of trust— deliberately left alone so as to not draw attention to it, but one all the same. sanji would never let himself go in front of anyone else like this. maybe a few months earlier he’d think the cook just didn’t care enough for his opinion and get all offended, but now?

sanji knows he’s here. he’s never unaware of his surroundings, and especially now after… everything. he’s believing that zoro won’t judge him, and he won’t. he doesn’t. but enough is enough, and sanji’s grip on the edge of the plate is tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

it’s almost a relief in a really twisted way. zoro’s been hovering by the sidelines, sleeping with one eye open and waiting for sanji to crack just so he can catch all the pieces before the cook falls apart completely, and it seems like this is it.

his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands. “alright, let’s get you to bed.”

“no.” sanji doesn’t stop scrubbing. he doesn’t even bother looking up. “why?”

zoro scoffs. “because you’re fucking drunk, cook. you’ve been washing that plate for five minutes.”

“well maybe it’s just not fucking clean, yeah?” sanji spits, quiet vitriol leadening his words even with his head bowed, and his breathing is jerky as zoro walks forward.

“oi.” it doesn’t come out harshly, exactly, but he needs sanji to know that he isn’t fucking around with this. “What the hell’s going on?”

“i don’t know.”

“what do you mean you don’t—”

“i don’t know!”

zoro lurches back at the outburst as the cook whips around, seething within the span of a second, plate dropped carelessly into the water in the sink. he hears it thunk when it hits the bottom.

“i don’t know, alright?” sanji laughs, eyes wild. “nothing’s wrong. everything’s wrong. everything is fucking perfect and i feel like i’m fucking dying inside.” his voice cracks right before he takes a visible breath and turns sharply, dipping his hand under the water to grab the plate and sponge again.

zoro watches his shoulders tremble. every movement of his now is precise and carefully calculated; he’s moving like a fucking robot and zoro hates it. hates the way his spine looks rigid enough to snap with a touch. hates the way his face is a placid mask, still water with a storm roiling beneath. zoro doesn’t know how to approach this other than with barbed words and concern thinly veiled as confrontation. he doesn’t know what to do other than be here because it’s better than not being here at all.

sanji’s hands have been scrubbed pink and raw. “get out, mosshead.”

“no.”

the cook’s cuticles are peeling, his fingertips pruned. he never lets either of them get this bad. “i said get out—”

“and I said no.” zoro crosses his arms. he counts three seconds of silence before sanji snaps.

“god, for once could you fucking listen?!” the cook snarls, rounding on zoro like a cornered animal and waving his arms. “i don’t want to talk to you right now! i do not want you here! so please, fuck off and— put me down, you piece of shit!” sanji borderline screams, struggling and wiggling over zoro’s shoulder as he’s hauled up and marched out of the galley.

zoro winces as the toe of a steel-capped oxford jams into his ribs, digging in deeper as sanji grunts with the effort. he doesn’t know where he’s going but they end up outside the infirmary, and he shoulders the door open before depositing sanji on the bed without preamble. “stay,” he grunts, ignoring the noises of outrage and turning to go get water.

“you can’t tell me what to do,” sanji spits from behind him, cheeks red from more than just anger as he pushes himself unsteadily to his feet. he either doesn’t realise that he’s listing to the side or he doesn’t care.

“sit down or I’ll make you.”

the cook barks a laugh that snaps in the air like a neck in rope. “try! i fucking dare you, marimo, you—”

zoro tackles him down and he screeches like a trapped cat, trying to escape even as the swordsman pins his legs and shoves his shoulders down into the bunk. “you are drunk. stop it.”

“why?” sanji shouts in his face. the cook is straining against him, all wild eyes and bared teeth, shoulders jerking with a sardonic laugh. “don’t wanna fight anymore?”

“no. i don’t.” the air is suddenly too quiet, too heavy, with something zoro doesn’t know if he should name. he watches as the cook’s face falls and twists into something sullen as he tries one last time to jerk his way out of zoro’s hold. “not like this.”

their ship rocks gently as zoro slowly eases off, shifting his weight back and sitting on the edge of the mattress with a soundless, weary sigh. there’s still a stubborn set to sanji’s chin even as he lays there on his back, unmoving from where zoro put him— leave it to him to be contrary for the sake of being contrary. the swordsman takes a deep breath to suppress an eye roll and opens his mouth to say something—

“it hurts.”

zoro stills, turning so he can see sanji better. “what hurts, cook?”

“everything.”

the blond is staring at the ceiling, unblinking and unreadable. the fabric of his slacks is riding up and zoro swallows down the urge to curl a hand around his pale ankle for comfort. he tells himself he doesn’t know where the urge to soothe came from, but he knows, he knows— this melancholy is something that sanji buries so deep, none of them catch even a glimpse of it on a normal day. his face is a blank slate, his usual fire banked, and he looks so drained. an cracked shell of himself running on empty. “i don’t want to feel it. i don’t want to feel anything,” he continues, softly enough that zoro has to strain to hear, leaning in instinctively.

glossy blue eyes flick over. golden hair scrunches against the off-white sheets as sanji turns his face towards him and whispers, “doesn’t that make me exactly like them?”

no. zoro swallows, at the same time both too wet and too dry, feeling a little like he’s been gutted with a dull knife. he says a mental to hell with it and slowly shifts his hand to wrap his fingers around sanji’s ankle, just a gentle grip, his thumb resting beneath the notch of bone. he can hear the soft sounds of the waves outside as it melds with sanji’s breathing, as he opens his mouth and comes up dry for things to say. “…get some sleep, curls.”

“can’t.” sanji purses his lips, shrugging a shoulder as he looks away like it’s no big deal. “can’t sleep. not well, at least. not since…”

zoro feels his own heart thud against his ribs as his gaze slips over sanji’s face, the redness rimming his eyes and the dark circles beneath. “i’m sleeping with you tonight,” he decides.

the cook makes an aborted noise of indignation before apparently deciding that it isn’t worth the effort. “we can’t fit two people in a bed.”

zoro shrugs, unaffected in the face of the venomous look sanji shoots him. “we can try.”

sanji mutters something to the ceiling under his breath. the swordsman pretends not to hear it.

they end up crammed onto the infirmary bed, sanji squashed against the wall and zoro almost falling off. the blond wiggles around in discomfort for five minutes before sitting bolt upright with a hissed curse and undoing his dress shirt in a frenzy; zoro stifles a laugh as he balls it up and hurls it at the desk across the room before flopping back down with a loud huff.

the cook scrunches himself up, spine pressed against the wall and one knee pulled up between them to maintain the distance, pointed at zoro’s gut as a subtle threat. “i’m not gonna bite you, y’know,” zoro grumbles. here he is doing this out of goodwill and this is how he’s treated.

“i wouldn’t put it past you,” sanji snips in reply. “also, you stink.”

“no i don’t. i just showered.”

“irrelevant.”

“priss.”

“moron.”

“spoiled.”

“i have standards, you sentient piece of kelp.”

“you—” zoro grits out, before he stalls. somehow, throughout this whole exchange, they’d inched closer and closer together and now sanji’s shoulder is digging into his breastbone, his breath warm across zoro’s cheek even as a brush of his skin above the loose, low front of zoro’s shirt feels completely opposite. “why’re you so fuckin’ cold?” he mutters, briskly rubbing at sanji’s upper arms before the cook bats him away with a startled hiss.

“don’t—” he cuts off and huffs a harsh breath, sneering in the dark as he digs for the right word, “—coddle me.”

“why not?” zoro shoots back. the words are out of his mouth faster than he can process, but it’s too late to take them back. “give me one good reason and i’ll stop. just one.”

the quiet that falls into place after that is broken by the sound of sanji’s swallow and nothing else. it’s nearly pitch-black; they’d put out the lamp on the wall and the infirmary has no windows. if zoro strains his eye he can see sanji’s outline curled close to his own front, golden hair darkened to honey and arms wrapped around himself.

he recalls how it had felt to have fine bones beneath his hand. how the cook hadn’t kicked him off.

the hand he rests on sanji side is tentative. barely-there pressure, a ghost of a touch with enough space for sanji to back away. he settles his palm down more firmly after a few seconds, tracking his thumb up and down the bumps of sanji’s ribs, and he barely stops his breath from catching when the cook wiggles away from the wall and presses his spine into zoro’s hand.

sanji’s looking at him. he can see the occasional flutter of long lashes, feel the weight of the cook’s attention like sanji’s preparing to say something, but it never comes. a soft breath slips from his lips before zoro feels a hand curl around his waist, fingers curling into his shirt.

“sanji.”

the cook heaves a long-suffering sigh. it doesn’t hide how he’s affected by zoro using his real name; zoro can read him too well for that. knows him too well for that. “what.”

zoro readjusts, fingertips pressing into the small of sanji’s back to pull him closer, and wonder of wonders, the cook lets him. “you’re nothing like them.”

he pretends he doesn’t feel sanji’s arm tighten around him after a few seconds. he notices that his shirt’s damp right before he falls asleep, right where sanji has his face buried in his shoulder.

he doesn’t mention any of it.

the next morning is… interesting.

zoro had woken to an empty bed, with the sheets just barely warm and hazy recollections of a lithe body tucked to his side, a leg thrown over his and soft hair under his chin. he stretches and ambles down to the galley, scratching at his stomach beneath his shirt as he yawns, and right on cue— sanji’s disdainful little tongue click reaches his ears, and he smiles. everything’s back to normal, then.

there’s more of the usual; luffy getting yelled at to leave the eggs alone, i don’t care if you’re hungry, they are raw, and nami and robin being handed their special little tiny cups of coffee and tea respectively. the rest of the crew filters in, and zoro people-watches from his spot on the ratty corner couch before he eventually gets up and slides into his seat at the table.

but when sanji takes his spot beside him, it feels different. the cook’s made onigiri for breakfast, the plate set down just a little closer to zoro’s side than usual before he sits, and zoro pauses with his chopsticks in the air as an ankle bumps into his.

not roughly, or painfully, nowhere near, no. just a reminder. a small nudge that could say any possible number of things, but from the way sanji’s gaze meets his before darting away, he’d guess it’s the thank you that their cook always has so much trouble saying. it’s never a lack of gratitude— more of a refusal to acknowledge that he needed help in the first place, that he accepted it, but zoro will take what he can get.

the circles under sanji’s eyes aren’t quite so dark anymore.

zoro knocks back. he feels the rasp of his boot laces against the heel of sanji’s patent leather oxford, and neither of them pull away. the swordsman presses his lips together and takes a big bite to hide his smile, failing momentarily when sanji immediately starts berating his abysmal table manners, marimo, honestly, if you choke i will leave you to die, and yeah, sure. back to normal.

he catches sanji’s eye again, sky-cornflower-ocean blue, and he wonders what sanji could be seeing in his to make his face soften like that.

normal, and maybe a little something new.

(he isn’t quite sure what to do the following night. sanji’s already in his own bunk when he slips in for a quick few hours of shut-eye, but it isn’t long before he feels someone climbing in with him, and he just knows instinctively without even needing to open his eye. they’ve got limbs hanging out here and there but they fit reasonably well and zoro wakes with sanji’s sleep shirt tucked in his fist and his thin blanket pulled up around his shoulders.

it goes on like this night after night to the point where their crew knows, he thinks. even if zoro discounts the fact that most of them share a bunkroom, they’ve still got to know something’s up; sanji glows like sunlight reflecting off the ocean now, real smiles and laughs that have him tossing his head back and holding his stomach, eyes in sapphire half-moons. robin brings it up offhandedly one day and zoro hums that proper sleep’s doing their cook good— she gives him that look that she does, and he turns away with a smile that he hides in his arm.

the first time sanji finds him in the crow’s nest, he’s still asleep when zoro’s watch ends. the cook’s stretched out on the bench above as zoro sits on the floor, hand draped down against zoro’s collarbone, his face so peaceful that zoro can’t— fuck, he can’t wake him.

and it can’t be comfortable lying on his own arm like that; zoro sits down and carefully pushes him up until sanji’s leaning on his shoulder, that sharp nose tucked under his jaw, and drifts asleep.)

(he stirs awake before sanji’s gone. his eye flutters open to find the cook mid-yawn, working out a crick in his neck and bathed in early-morning light, warm and golden. the cook realises he’s watching and freezes, shoulders going tense and stiff—

he deflates a little when zoro blinks at him, sleep-warm and bleary. “gotta make breakfast, marimo,” he murmurs, reaching out after a moment’s hesitation.

the hand that cups zoro’s cheek is gently callused and somehow familiar. he turns into it like a flower to the sun and breathes in something that he never even realised he’d gotten used to, olive oil and shoe polish and orange blossom pomade. “i know,” he replies, pressing the words into sanji’s palm, and a thumb drags across his cheekbone.

“need anything before i go?” sanji asks, and they both know it’s half a joke. what could he possibly give zoro in here? a dumbbell sandwich?

that other half, though— it’s far too serious. a cold plunge of water through zoro’s muddled early-morning brain. he knows what he wants, but zoro also knows that patience is a virtue for a reason.

the cook already has a hard enough time letting people in. zoro doesn’t want to push. the hand against his cheek is enough for him, even if it is all sanji could ever want, and so he slips the blond a wry grin. “onigiri?”

“you— ugh, fine.” sanji huffs. “anything else?”

zoro frowns, growing increasingly convinced that this is some sort of trap. these are unprecedented levels of generosity. “…protein shake?”

it takes all of two seconds before sanji puts his face into his hands, taking a deep breath before zoro hears something about having to do everything myself, don’t i? the cook plants his hands on his hips, tapping his foot with one brow arched. “of all the people in the world,” he mutters through his teeth, advancing on zoro with enough of a menacing air that the swordsman leans back into the backrest, “of course it had to be you.”

“me what?” zoro says warily, eyeing sanji up and down, and opens his mouth to continue before a fist grips his collar and there’s a brush of contact at his temple— a kiss, he realises, before all the thoughts drain out of his fucking brain.)

(he’s still reeling when he stumbles his way to breakfast. still wide-eyed as he washes the plates, for once, without complaint. it’s when it’s just the two of them, when zoro twists around to ask a question that he hasn’t yet phrased, that arms lock around his waist and sanji’s forehead presses to his nape.

they’re quiet for a long, long while. “you remind me that i’m not like them, y’know,” sanji breathes, barely loud enough to be heard.

zoro turns in his hold, hands dripping all over the floor, fuck, the cook’ll make him clean that up later, he knows and he isn’t even mad about it. “what do you mean, curls?”

sanji leans into him, all sharp edges and bony joints softened by lean muscle and zoro’s fondness, fingers long and thin and laced together over zoro’s hip. “i’m pretty damn sure they’ve never felt like this.”)

(not much changes after that. franky does make them a bigger bunk to share, though, and they fight perhaps even more fiercely now; afternoons are spent toying with each other across the deck, pushing their limits, pushing each other higher until nami yells at them to stop making a racket. zoro doesn’t pretend that he can’t tell when sanji needs a little more contact, keeping him close when perfectly filed nails dig into his shirt. sanji takes care of them all like he always does, and he lets zoro take care of him— most of the time, at least. it’s still a toss-up on whether he’ll explode or break down whenever anyone tries to help him, but with zoro it’s either both in succession or neither.

sometimes he picks a fight and then cries afterwards. others, he concedes to being wrapped in a ratty old blanket and tucked into zoro’s chest where he can hide from the world.

he sleeps through every night now, though. he’s fiery and sharp-tongued and bright-eyed and when he’s had a bit too much to drink he just gets loud, fooling around with their captain and cackling with nami in a corner of the galley between conspiratorial whispers, but zoro can’t deny him anything even though he’s fairly sure they’re plotting his downfall.

he wouldn’t have it any other way.)

#THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ANONNNN #will never get tired of angsting this babygirl. i’m sorry he just has so many Issues #BUT I ALWAYS GIVE THEM HAPPY ENDINGS ALRIGHT SO IT BALANCES OUTTTT #it’s almost 4am this time this is actually horrid #GOODNIGHT ZOSAN NATIONNN #zosan #one piece #black leg sanji #zoro x sanji #roronoa zoro #one piece sanji #one piece zosan #one piece zoro #sanji #zoro #ino writes #ino’s ask box

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tigertales9 · 9 months

Text

Déjà vu II

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: Things get heated (due to backwards cap hotness) after the preseason game between the Bengals & Packers

Time/Place: August 11, 2023 / Cincinnati, Ohio

A/N: This is the follow-up to Déjà vu

Inspo pic: Getty Images (edit)

You lean against the wall in the stadium tunnel, waiting to give Joe a quick hug after the game before heading home. 36-19 had been the final score; it was the first preseason game, though, so no need to panic just yet.

You smile to yourself as you let your mind wander to earlier in the night; watching Joe put in work doing throwing drills and running wind sprints had everyone in high spirits. You could feel the collective sigh of relief from Bengals fans when they saw their QB1 looking so good just two weeks after the calf strain. Joe wasn't 100 percent yet, but he was getting better by the day.

Then later during the game you were hit with a sense of déjà vu watching Joe on the sideline looking like walking sex. Something about him wearing the earpiece and stalking around frustrated when the offense wasn't clicking was just hot as hell. The backwards cap was the cherry on the eye-candy sundae.

You're still contemplating that last thought as you raise your head and lock eyes with Joe striding toward you, still wearing the backwards cap that had you squirming in your seat all night. Your stomach does a somersault at the look on his face. "Hey," you greet him with a smile as he reaches you, grabbing your hand and pulling you deeper into the tunnel, giving you a wink when you raise your eyebrows at him. "Where are we going?" you mutter, your eyes going wide when he ushers you through the vast locker room and into one of the treatment rooms, the door barely shutting behind you before he's got you pressed against it. "Damn," you whisper, dropping your bag and sliding your hands up his muscular chest as his mouth captures yours, his hot tongue plunging inside to tangle with yours as you cling to his broad shoulders.

After a few minutes you finally come up for air. "Is the door locked?" you breathe, dropping a hand down to tease him through his slinky shorts. "No," he answers, "there's no lock on the door, but we've got about five minutes before a trainer comes in to do my treatment." You immediately snatch your hand away from his crotch and give him an exasperated look. "Five minutes?"

"Yeah," he chuckles, giving you a sheepish look just as someone knocks on the door. You grab your bag and step aside, smiling at the trainer who enters the room as soon as Joe opens the door.

"Oh sorry!" the trainer chirps, his face going crimson as he looks back and forth between you and Joe. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No problem," you soothe. "I was just leaving." You give Joe a smile and lean in close. "See you at home," you whisper. "Make sure to wear this backwards cap." You run a finger over the snapback strap adorning his forehead before heading for the door, throwing a quick glance over your shoulder as you walk out, the sight of Joe biting his plump bottom lip practically seared into your brain as you head for the exit.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

An hour later you're standing in your kitchen, freshly showered and wearing skimpy lace panties and one of Joe's t-shirts, your body humming with anticipation as you pour a glass of pinot noir and take a sip. You had nothing but water at the game, and you need just a little something to take the edge off as you wait for Joe to get home.

You open the fridge and pull out a bowl of red seedless grapes, tossing a couple in your mouth and damn near moaning at the combo of sweet, cold grapes chased with a swallow of lush, plummy wine. You repeat the action a few times before your ears perk up, your entire body reacting to the sound of Joe coming in the garage door.

He hits you with a panty-dropping grin when he rounds the corner. "I'm still wearing the backwards cap," he purrs, walking straight up to you as you offer him a grape. "Good boy," you praise, a pulse of arousal sizzling through you at the look in his eyes as he opens his mouth for you. "Mmmm, juicy," he moans, holding eye contact as you pop another grape in his mouth. "You got anything else juicy for me, baby girl?"

You can tell from the cadence of his speech and his body language that he still has some pent-up frustration from the game, from not being able to get on the field and unleash hell on the opponents. "Maybe," you tease, biting your lip and giving him a dirty grin as he backs you up against the kitchen island, his hands sneaking under your t-shirt to settle on your waist just as his mouth crashes down on yours.

A few minutes into making out -- with one of his big hands caressing your breasts and the other making a beeline for your crotch -- his phone rings, both of y'all going completely still as he breaks the intense kiss to glance at his phone. "Shit … it's Coach," he grumbles, nibbling on your neck as you take a deep breath. "You better answer it," you whisper. "He wouldn't be calling this late if it wasn't important." Joe nods and makes a stank face as he grabs his phone. "Hey Coach," he quips. "Yeah, I can talk for a bit," he continues, rolling his eyes dramatically.

You squirm out of his grasp and head for the stairs, giving him a loaded look just before you vanish out of sight. You walk through the master bedroom into the en suite bathroom, quickly splashing cold water on your face to cool down your heated skin; as you pat dry with a towel, you consider rubbing one out since you're frustrated as fuck and Joe's conversations with Coach Taylor usually last a while, especially if they're talking schemes and strategy.

You're still pondering the idea when Joe strides into the bathroom, his eyes locking onto yours in the mirror like a heat-seeking missile. "That was fast," you whisper, tossing the towel to the side as he walks up behind you. "I told him I'd talk to him tomorrow," he mutters, unclipping the clasp holding your hair up, burying his nose in your hair and taking a deep breath as it tumbles down over your shoulders.

He nestles his erection against your ass while making eye contact with you in the mirror. "Real subtle, babe," you chuckle, lifting your arms so he can slip your t-shirt off. "Do I need to be subtle?" he asks, the raw lust in his voice causing a gush of liquid heat between your thighs. "No, sir," you breathe, watching closely as he whips his t-shirt off, accidentally taking his cap with it. You bite your lip as he slowly reaches for the cap, running his long fingers through his tousled hair a few times before easing the backwards cap back on his head. "Now … where were we," he growls, his deep voice tickling your ear in a way that makes you squeeze your thighs together to try and ease the relentless throbbing in your core; his hot gaze immediately flicks down to your crotch as he reads your body language. He licks his lips and lifts his gaze back up to yours, giving you a smile so dirty you feel it in every pleasure point in your body.

"What do you need?" he asks, lazily teasing your nipples while dropping open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive neck. "I need to cum," you grit out, squirming and whimpering as he continues to tease you. "I've been on the edge ever since I saw you in that damn backwards cap tonight."

"You like this look, huh?" he asks, checking his reflection in the mirror before spinning you around to face him. "I love that look," you whisper, your pulse kicking into overdrive as he drops to his knees at your feet, quickly sliding your soaked panties off before wrapping both hands around your waist to lift your ass onto the countertop. "How do you like this look?" he purrs, spreading your thighs wide and maintaining eye contact while licking a long stripe from your ass to your clit. "Yeah … don't stop!" you urge, leaning back against the mirror and resting your feet on his broad shoulders while he follows orders, devouring your clit and pistoning two fingers inside you, hitting your g-spot over and over until you come undone, your cries of pleasure still ringing in your ears a few minutes later as you gasp for breath.

He stands up when your core finally stops squeezing his fingers; he removes them and gives them a thorough suck, moaning deep in his throat when you clasp a hand behind his neck and pull his head down, licking your essence off of his lips before sucking his tongue into your mouth. "My dick is so hard I could hammer nails with it," he groans against your slick lips. "I got something else you can hammer," you purr, gasping when he quickly picks you up and spins you around, your feet barely touching the floor before he bends you over, shoves his shorts and underwear down and buries his cock in your slick heat.

You both groan as your core clamps down hard at the sudden intrusion; he holds himself completely still for several seconds, the sensual feel of his heartbeat throbbing deep inside you drawing a whine from your lips that immediately has him thrusting, shallow at first then full, deep thrusts. You rise up onto your tiptoes and grind back against him, your hard nipples tightening even more as they slide against the countertop, the marble providing a cool contrast to the heat radiating off of Joe as he hits a steady rhythm.

"Feels so fucking good, baby," he grits out, "look at me." You raise your head and meet his eyes in the mirror, biting your lip hard enough to hurt as he drops a hand down to tease your clit. "You like that?" he purrs, giving you a feral smile when you nod your head, your breath fogging up the mirror as you gasp and pant while he continues to ride you hard.

You eventually drop your forehead back down onto the countertop, almost too stimulated to hold eye contact as he expertly pleasures you, drawing whimpers and moans from your lips while lavishing dirty praise in that toe-curling raunchy voice. "I need to see your face," he mutters as he fists a hand in your long hair, wrapping it around his palm a couple times before tugging just hard enough to raise your head off the countertop; his eyes hold your gaze in the mirror for several seconds before he spits on your lower back, your breath catching in your throat as you feel it slide down between your buttcheeks. He quickly releases your hair to chase the spit with his thumb, following it all the way down to tease the edge of your hole as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, pinching your clit with his other hand, his icy-hot eyes locked on yours in the mirror when your climax hits.

You scream his name as the coiled tension inside you unleashes like the crack of a whip; he grabs your hips and tilts your ass up, your feet leaving the floor as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the sound of your flesh slapping together and the lush, wet sound of your drenched core as he pounds into you seemingly magnified in your ears as he follows you over the edge, the hot spurts of his climax making your walls spasm harder before finally tapering off.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thirty minutes later you and Joe step out of the shower, your legs still trembling as he helps you dry off before picking you up bridal-style to carry you to bed. He lays you down gently before joining you, his damp hair slicked back as he gazes down at you in the dim lighting.

"You kinda like the backwards cap, huh?" he teases. "You know I do," you answer, rolling your eyes playfully at his cocky grin. "That was a little déjà vu, right?" he asks, nodding at the bathroom door as he continues. "Having raunchy sex while watching in a mirror with one of us wearing a hat."

You smile when he waggles his eyebrows at you. "Yeah, but you look way better in the backwards cap than I do in the cowboy hat."

"No way," he argues, leaning down to drop a kiss on your lips. "Agree to disagree," you giggle, yawning before snuggling against him as he pulls you close.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine

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