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fairysluna · 5 months

Text

the wolf's cage.

After being captured by the Northerns, you found yourself with the Lord of Winterfell whose strange politeness makes you doubt his true intentions.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Cregan Stark x Wildling!Reader.

TAGS — smut (p in v, m!oral, spanking, use of the word whore, face fucking, hate sex(?, dirty talk, degrading/praise, belly bulge), cursing, mentions of war, blood and bruises, kind of enemies to lovers, dilf!cregan, and idk if this counts as dark!cregan but I'll add it just in case. If something is missing let me know!

AUTHOR'S NOTE — it's the first time that i write smut after a very long time, and i wrote this in a rush, so it's not perfect but i loved it anyway bc i fell in love with this trope. Reader is loosely based on Osha from GoT. REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED.

WORD COUNT — 5.3k. (oh damn)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤenglish is not my first language.

“We found her close to the Godswood,” one of the men said. “She was hiding and preparing herself to kill, my lord.”

Cregan walked slightly closer to you, his curiosity peaking when he noticed how small you looked curled up in a corner of your cell, covered by thick pieces of fur. Your face was stained with dirt and dried blood. His men had told him you were a menace, but after looking at you, he didn't believe it.

“She seems harmless,” he pointed out, kneeling beside you.

“She is not, my lord. She's responsible for the death of three of our men,” the same man explained. They were all in combat position; holding the hilt of their swords just in case you would dare to attack their leader. Cregan, however, seemed to be unafraid, getting closer to you and trying to see more of you. He was certainly intrigued.

How was a young girl like you able to kill a group of ruthless men?

He raised his hand and gently pulled a strand of your hair out of your face; he saw a scar on your cheek and a cut on your lip. Then, you met his eyes with yours. Your cold and mercenary haze did little to intimidate him. You were finally in the presence of the man you hated the most; the man who had killed your people in cold blood. He could see your wrath burning through your haze, and he understood it.

With his thumb, he removed the drop of blood that was dripping from your lip — a soft touch that felt so foreign to your skin. He attempted to do it again, but you moved your face away and he knew it was enough. With a sigh, he stood up casting a large shadow over your smaller frame; you looked down at the floor, ignoring his penetrating stare on you before he turned around and walked out of the cell.

“Tell a maid to give her a bath, then bring her to the dining room,” he ordered.

“My lord, I don't think-”

“Tell the cooks to make a meal for two, and tell a maid to keep Rickon out of my room tonight,” he abruptly interrupted him, the guard was left in surprise.

“I beg your pardon, my lord, but I do not think it’s a good idea at all,” The maester advised him, talking in whispers so you would not hear a word. “I believe that being in a room alone with that savage would put your life at risk. We cannot afford that, not when we're in the middle of an imminent war.”

Cregan turned to give one more look at you before one of the guards locked your cell again. You looked so fragile, and you were probably starving after spending days in the merciless Winter cold. He knew you would not be such a threat in such a condition, so he did not follow his loyal Maester’s advice.

“The decision has been made,” he spoke as he started to walk away from the dungeons. The old man quickly followed his pace.

“I would advise you to make some double thinking about your decision-”

“Are you questioning my methods?” His voice came out low and slow, but it carried a bit of an intimidating undertone that was easy to catch. The Maester took a step back when his superior turned around; his Lordship was an imposing man, tall and with wide shoulders and some grey eyes that would pierce through your soul. Lord Stark was a kindhearted man, but whenever he was angry he was unrecognisable.

And the Maester trembled when he saw a small glimpse of his anger.

“Of course not, but it is my duty as your advisor to give you the best options… risking your life it's certainly not.”

“That girl is craving for a meal, I will not let her starve,” he grunted. “Besides, I might steal some valuable information from her. She's just a girl, and she's unarmed. She will do no harm.”

The old man simply nodded, knowing that it was a lost battle and not having the guts to continue to defy his lord. Cregan cleared his throat, repeated the instructions and then turned around to leave his men behind. They shared confused looks, doubting his plan and how unusual it was for him to have mercy with the people of your kind. This new and sudden sympathy towards you raised suspicion among the northern guards, but they were all too afraid to speak up.

They just obeyed the orders of their Lord.

Cregan was tapping his fingertips against the table, patiently waiting for your arrival as he was blankly staring at his half-empty cup of wine. The only sound that was heard was coming from the fireplace, and the rest of the room was deadly silent. He was wondering how much time would it take for you to arrive when two guards opened the door, and two others were carrying you inside. They were grabbing your arms, tight enough to leave a bruise behind. Cregan stood up the instant you showed up, and, with a slight nod from him, you were freed from their grip.

Lord Stark took the time to look at you, shamelessly glancing at every inch of your body. He noticed how your skin was glowing now, freed of any stain or impureness on your face, except for that scar on your cheekbone that seemed to be quite recent. Regardless of that, you were such a sight for his eyes, so pretty and young and fierce all the same. The glow in your eyes was still yelling your hate for him and, somehow, that would make you even more appealing to him. He followed the trail down your neck and found your bossom being squeezed by the dress which looked a bit too small for you, but that fit your body like a glove; shaping your curves and enhancing them, he had to take a deep breath after seeing you.

All the beauty that was previously hidden under thick layers of clothes and dirty hair and face was now starting to show.

“You can leave now,” he indicated to the guards. They nodded and followed his orders immediately.

Once they were alone, Cregan pointed at the chair on the other side of the table, inviting you to take a seat. You were reluctant, staring at the large amount of food with distrust; you thought this was a trap, no one ever invites their foes to supper. You did not obey him at first, standing still in your place, using a pair of borrowed shoes that were almost crushing your feet and making you feel like walking on burning coal.

You knew one thing for sure; you needed to get out of there as soon as you could. Or, better yet, you had to kill that man.

“Please, be seated,” he spoke so softly and politely that you could not believe it. It was so blatantly obvious. “The pork it's better when it's warm.”

A glance at the table and you saw your plate already served; this did nothing but increase your mistrust. However, you walked towards the spot, slowly and with your guard up. The sound of your shoes clacking on the wooden floor as you made your way to your seat until you finally sat.

Then, a silence fell over the room. Cregan's eyes seemed to never look away from you as he raised his cup and brought it to his lips. You nervously played with your cup, already filled with wine.

“I gave myself the liberty to fill your cup,” he said.

Besides that, your plate was full of beans, pork, carrots and mashed potatoes. Everything was already cut into tiny pieces, and only then did you realize you only had a spoon; no knife, and no fork.

“Is wine not of your taste?” Cregan asked after your long silence. “Would you rather have some ale? or juice?”

Nothing came out of your mouth. Cregan was losing his little patience, but he knew better and he stayed calm. Upsetting you would only make things worse.

“You might be wondering why I spared your life today,” he started, attempting a two-sided conversation. “If you were any other, your head would be in a spike by now… but you might be useful for us.” He made a pause, sipping his wine so delicately and manly. Then he added, “For me.”

Again, no answer.

“I believe you have valuable information that would help us to understand your people better,” he explained, trying to sound likeable and friendly, even giving you a warm smile. “Maybe that way we'll understand your reasons.”

“Why would I give information to the one who's murdering my people?” You finally spoke.

Cregan heard your thick northern accent and a smile was drawn on his face. He hid the gesture by grabbing his fork and knife and cutting a piece of meat before putting it inside his mouth. You realized that contrary to you, he had a knife; you wondered how you could reach it without him noticing.

“Ah, so you can speak,” he claimed, cheerfully. “For a moment I thought you were mute.”

“I am not,” you grunted.

“You could stop an imminent war, you know?” He continued the previous conversation. “Save the lives of your people, avoid a bloodbath.”

“You are the only one causing those things, my lord,” the mocking tone in your voice when you uttered the last two words was obvious. “This war carries your name.”

“You are the ones taking over our lands,” he debated.

“We're escaping,” you snapped. “You have no idea what's beyond that wall. You and your men would do the same in our position.”

“And what is it that's up there with all of you?”

“You wouldn't believe my words. You'll have to see it.”

He hummed, not convinced at all. He leaned back on his chair.

“How did you get that scar on your face? It looks quite recent,” he slightly narrowed his eyes.

“An accident while climbing the wall,” you simply explained, not wanting to give out too many details.

“When did you cross it?”

“A few weeks ago.”

“And what have you been doing all this time?”

“I already told you… trying to survive.”

Cregan clicked his tongue, sipping his wine once more and letting the topic go. “You haven't touched your food,” he pointed out. “Nor your wine. The cooks work hard on this food.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“It's not poisoned,” he let you know as if you would believe his mere words. “If I ever kill you it wouldn't be with a drop of venom, that it's not an honourable way to murder your opponent.”

“Honour,” you repeated with a mocking tone.

“Does that word sound funny to you?”

“It does when it's you saying it,” you muttered, clenching your jaw. “You have the blood of innocents in your hands, you have no honour.”

The tense environment was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Soon, a small child entered the room and ran towards Cregan; it was his son, his spitting image standing right next to him. His weakness. You looked closely, and you noticed how Lord Stark's demeanour was briefly replaced by a softer one when he held his child in his arms, only to get angry again when one of the maids walked in rushing behind the boy. You were observant, and then quickly an idea of escape lighted up your mind.

“I apologize, Lord Stark,” the maid murmured, shaking and breathing unevenly. “Little Rickon wanted to say goodnight and he ran away from his chambers-”

“Don't let it happen again,” he stopped her before she could go on with her explanations that were of little interest to his Lordship. “Just take him to bed, and don't let this happen again.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He kissed the child's forehead and hugged him one last time before the maid pulled his arm and took him away. The boy was looking back at his sire with saddened eyes as he walked, and once he was out of sight, Cregan was back to his tough facade. However, you knew new information, and now you knew exactly how to manage to escape.

“Was that your child?”

“Indeed,” he nodded.

“Beyond the wall, children are taught to fight and hunt from a very young age,” you randomly told him. “Does he know how to do that?”

“He's still learning.”

“How old is he?”

“We are not here to talk about my child,” he snapped, growing impatient with each passing second.

You stopped, only for a brief second to let it rest and prepare yourself for the next thing. The suddenness of your next question left him speechless.

“Where's his mother?” You noticed how he tensed, clenching his jaw and forming a fist with his hand. There it is. “Is she around?”

His silence gave you the answer you were expecting, you had to hold back a smile.

“Let me guess,” you murmured, “Childbirth?”

His fist smacked against the table and you noticed how all the plates jumped due to the impact. He stood up, fuming, all the kindness and politeness vanishing from his body as he lost his patience with you. Yet, you did not seem fazed by his roughness, you barely flinched. You stood up too and slowly started to walk around the table, to get closer to him.

“I bet your nights might be lonely now that you've lost your wife,” A false tone of empathy was heard in your voice as you kept taking step after step. “Does your bed feel empty at night?”

“That's enough,” he growled.

“You dressed me, bathed me and fed me… perhaps you're trying to convince me to stay by your side,” you deduced, using your seduction skills to distract him from the fact that you were getting closer to the knife on the table. “Is this your intention? To make me yours? To turn me into your whore?” Your voice lowered itself a few tones, getting raspier and more seductive.

You reached his side, his eyes were stuck on your face as his breathing was starting to get faster with each second. You saw his jaw, sharp as the knife you were trying to grab, and tensed as he tried to hide his growing arousal. Of course, he has noticed your attributes before, and of course, he had secretly —and shamelessly— fantasized about ripping your dress to see what was underneath, but now your words would only make his struggle grow.

Perhaps the Maester was right. Perhaps this was a bad idea.

“Have you heard what they say about the women from the Free Folk?” You were teasing him, boldly raising your hands until they went to his thick coat and untied it; it fell around his leather shoes, and only a thin shirt was beneath it. Your eyes glanced at him, noticing the chest hair on his skin as your hands felt the hardness of his abdomen; years of training with the sword had certainly made its effect. “People say we're difficult to handle, but that we fuck like goddesses. Wouldn't you want to try it out?”

One of your hands travelled lower and lower until it was able to feel the shape of his growing cock in your palm and through his pants. A winning smile appeared on your lips. His growing lust did not allow him to see the moment when your hand took the knife. Luckily for him, his reflexes were quite fast, and he was able to stop your hand right before you almost stabbed his neck. Your eyes widened as he grabbed your wrist and turned your body around, slamming you against the table. He pressed himself against you, your dress now ruined with the food beneath your frame.

Cregan's hand grabbed a big portion of your hair and pulled it back, roughly, forcing you to arch your back. You could not help but whimper due to the pain in your skull. His breathing soon reached your neck and caused shivers down your spine; it smelled like wine.

“You little whore,” he mocked you, “you thought you could've killed me?”

His voice was completely different to the one you have heard before; it was almost like a growl, so deep, slow and hoarse. You would be lying if you said you did not find it amusing. His touch was rough and lacking the gentleness and delicacy that it had hours ago when he wiped the blood off of your lip.

“It was worth the try,” you breathed out, laughing at him when you felt his arousal pressing against your arse.

“What's so funny, huh?” he grunted, pulling you harder and making you hum. “I could kill you right here, right now,” he threatened.

“But you won't,” you murmured.

“That's right,” he mumbled, breathing in your scent. Even after taking a bath you still smelled of pine tree, it was an intoxicating smell. “I will prove your word first. Let's see if the wildlings whores fuck like goddesses, mhm?”

Your eyes widened when you felt his hand freeing your hair and going towards the skirts of your borrowed dress. He lifted them, holding them in place on your waist behind your back. He saw how your pussy was already starting to glisten with your arousal, even when he had barely touched you beforehand. His cock twitched inside his pants when he noticed that all of this was because of his rough touch.

You filthy slut, he thought.

You heard a soft stump on the floor as his pants fell down his thick legs. It did not take too much time for you to feel his leaking tip brushing against your folds, spreading them open and smearing your slick all over it. You had to bite your lip, holding back a gasp as he teasingly rubbed against your clit; this was certainly not what you were expecting, but it felt good enough to make you want more.

Slowly, he started to make his way inside you, grabbing your arsecheeck with his free hand and spreading it only to see your needy cunt taking him. Cregan gasped, your soft walls were wrapping around him perfectly, squeezing him just right and creaming all over him. He hummed in delight as he felt your legs already starting to shake. Gods, he was big, stretching you out as of you were a fucking maiden, providing you with that sweet pain that made your eyes close.

When he was halfway in, he pushed himself all in with a single thrust. His head touched that sweet, spongy spot inside of you. “Fuck!” you cried out, involuntarily spreading your legs further, at the same time your hands pushed all the plates and cups away from your side. It all ended up spilt on the floor.

He remained there for a few seconds, still inside of you and not moving an inch. Cregan's hand reached for your hair once again, pulling it back until your back was pressed against his chest and his lips were brushing against your ear. His breathing was ragged and unsteady; his tongue licked his lips as they started to get dry. You were able to feel him, his veins pulsing inside of you as he would twitch each time you clenched around him. Cregan hummed against your ear.

Without warning, his hips started to move and your legs suddenly felt as weak and giggly as jelly. Your hands gripped the border of the table as his movements started to increase his pace. He was filling you up so good, so deep. You found yourself murmuring senseless words as you slowly started to lose your mind, which was a weird thing for you; you would usually be the one in charge.

Though you did not mind submitting to him for a while. All your morality was soon gone, and all thanks to the man whose cock was good enough to make you forget about how much you hated him.

His hips started to meet yours with more force, thrusting hard but slow. It was just the beginning, and he wanted to make sure you would feel every inch of him, to feel every vein. All while he was also losing his mind over how good your pussy was taking him; your tight grip around him was sending him to the heavens, his eyes never looking away from the place where both of your bodies would join. Your walls contracted around him whenever he was pulling out, almost as if they were reluctant to let him go. Cregan loved that a bit too much, he might have become addicted to it.

Then, he sped it up. His grunts and moans were falling from his lips in cascades that reached your ears. A vocal man he was, expressing his lust with the most arousing sounds you have ever heard. It brought a sense of pride to your chest, having such an imposing man as him reduced to a moaning mess. But the truth was, you were not doing any better; his animalistic movements were now sending you over the edge quicker than you thought. The sound of your bodies slapping against each other and the feeling of your arousal falling down your thighs was enough to pull you into a cloud of raw lasciviousness. Your mind felt dizzy.

Suddenly, Cregan grabbed the knife you were trying to reach and threw it right next to your hand. You saw it through your heavy eyelids as you panted and gasped. You felt his lips pressing against your ear once again, but this time he spoke,

“Try to kill me now,” he hoarsely said. “Go on. Where's the girl who tried to kill me? Not so brave now with my cock ripping you apart, huh?”

“Fuck off…” you managed to say in a murmur. Cregan mockingly laughed, and his hand fell against the soft skin of your rear, leaving a pinching pain behind. Gods, you hated the fact that you loved it so much.

“So fiery, and yet you're a mess…” he chuckled, his heavy breathing against your nape making you tremble under his touch. “I wish you could see how your little cunny is taking my cock… you're fucking soaking for me.”

You moaned, louder than you should have.

“Want to take a look?” he teased you, pushing deeper inside of you. You tried to mumble an answer, but nothing came out of your mouth. His hand met your arse again, this time slightly harder. “Answer me,” he demanded, using his lower tone which made your knees go weak.

You had no choice, “Y-yes…” you whimpered as tears of pleasure were gathering in the corner of your eyes.

He pulled out of you and you immediately whined, complaining about his absence. His hands went to the ties on the back of your dress, starting to pull them out to get them loose enough to remove that piece of fabric that was just bothering him. When he finally did, he pulled it down in a single movement, and just like that you were completely exposed to him.

He took a quick look at your body once you turned around, glancing at your breasts and your perky nipples, and then looking at the glistening mess between your thighs. His hand wrapped around your jaw, and he leaned forward; his leaking cock rubbing against your belly as his nose touched your cheek. Suddenly, his lips trapped yours in a heated kiss that lacked any delicacy; he was claiming your mouth, swirling his tongue around yours and devouring you. You heard how he pushed the rest of the dishes, plates and cups on the ground, then he lifted your body forcing you to spread your legs. Only then he pulled away.

He looked down, watching your pussy drenched with your arousal and chuckling at the sight. “Didn't know wildlings women were such whores… getting this wet when I fuck you rough,” he mocked you, tightening the grip around your jaw and forcing you to keep your eyes on him.

Cregan guided his cock towards your slit, repeating the same teasing game as before, rubbing his tip against your now throbbing clit soaking it with the mixture of your juices and his. He gave a few taps afterwards, making you whine and your legs shake. You never, in a million years, thought you would be thinking of begging a Lord like him, yet there you were, about to plead to have him inside of you once again because the ache between your thighs was becoming unbearable.

As if he had read your thoughts, he soon pressed his cockhead against your entrance, pushing just the tip. You sighed, biting your lip as you looked down at it. You could have come right there as you saw how he slowly filled you up and stretched your walls once more. The way your labia would spread to take him in; such an obscene sight it was, yet you couldn't bring yourself to take your eyes off of it.

Once he was fully sheathed in you, you managed to perceive a small bulge forming in your lower belly which would appear each time he would bury himself deep inside of you. He did not take too much time to be rough this time, starting to snap his hips against yours and making you moan and drool until your mind was fully gone once again. His big hands were grabbing your hips, his nails digging into your flesh and making it slightly painful for you; yet, you didn't want it to stop. The sound of him entering your wetness was enough to make you mumble nonsense, and it wasn't long before you managed to see a ring of your juices around the bottom of his shaft. Your eyes rolled back.

His animalistic movements were sending you over the edge, and it was humiliating how loud your cries of pleasure were; you were certain that they could be heard in the hallway, but neither you nor Cregan cared enough to stop. Both of you were consumed by each other's touch, it was rough and passionate, you could feel the heat running through your veins as he possessed every inch of your insides until you were nothing but a moaning mess. Your skin was glowing with a layer of sweat, and Cregan leaned forward to lick on your collarbone, his tongue creating a path to your breasts; his lips closed around your nipple, sucking and nibbling. You grew desperate for release.

“Fuck- I need to… I'm so close,” you whimpered, your eyes locking with his.

“Come on,” he hoarsely murmured. “Show me how good of a whore you are, and make a mess on my cock.”

His words blurred your mind, sending a stimulus right into your core. You felt that sweet sensation of culmination when he touched your most sensitive point inside of you over and over again until you were sobbing with the tears of pleasure gathering in the corners of your eyes as you felt your release exploding and washing over you until your legs felt sore. You felt weak, trembling and overwhelmed. Your hair was sticking at your forehead due to your sweat and you were far gone into the pleasure he had just provided you. Yet, he seemed to not have enough.

Lord Stark pulled out of you. His length had a layer of your release coating it, and you felt your cheeks grow warm. It was unusual for you to feel this shy in this situation, but this whole thing was something rather unusual and rare. Sleeping with the biggest foe, you were a traitor now.

But Gods, it felt so damn good.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered. His hand wrapped around his leaking cock stroking himself, legs slightly parted as he looked at you with darkened eyes filled with lust. He was achingly hard, you could tell; his stones seemed heavy with his seed, which you would rather feel inside of you.

Yet, you obeyed, kneeling and looking up at him through your lashes. He cursed with a sigh, twitching with the lustful sight of you ready to take him once again.

“Open wide,” he instructed, brushing his cockhead against your swollen lips. You did what you were told. “Wider,” he demanded, and you obeyed again. “That's a good little whore…” he hummed, content.

You stuck your tongue out and felt his salty taste as he tapped his cock against it. You moaned, and he grabbed the sides of your face to keep you still as he started to move in and out of your mouth. He groaned, looking up and then back at you; such a skilful little minx you were, taking him so well.

Soon, your gags were echoing in the room along with your gulps and his moans. You were drooling; your saliva running down the corners of your lips as he fucked them as fast and hard as he pleased.

“There you go, take it all just like that,” he praised you, and you felt the warmth of the tears falling down your cheeks. “Mhm, fuck. I might start to believe what they say now. You're sucking my cock like a fucking goddess…”

You felt the back of your head pressing against the border of the table as he sped up. You were choking around him, and the sounds that came out of it were obscene and filthy, and Cregan loved it.

Before you could tell, he spilt himself inside of your mouth, forcing you to swallow every drop that left him. And you did.

Once he freed you from his grip, you pulled away. A string of saliva was still hanging from your lips as you desperately gasped for air, and only then Cregan noticed the big mess you had become. Hot and soaked cheeks, eyes tearing up, your lips swollen and covered with his thick and pearly seed. You were such an unholy sight.

His thumb reached for your lip, wiping your drool out of it. Such a gesture brought you back to that very same evening when he wiped the blood out of the cut in your lip. It did not feel foreign anymore. You were breathless, trying to regain composure as Cregan looked down at you with a satisfied glance.

“Seems like the rumours are not false,” he muttered, starting to pull his pants up again. “I might keep you so that I can feel those pretty lips around my cock again.”

“Keep- keep me?” you asked, confused and overwhelmed.

Cregan arched an eyebrow, “You think because I fucked you I will let you go?” he chuckled. You felt his hand wrapped around your jaw once again, forcing you to stand up. You trembled a little, feeling your legs shaky and weak. “So naive of you… to think that I would have a taste of you and then let you go.”

You felt your heart sink inside your chest as you heard him.

“Since you offered so nicely before, I will accept,” he sighed, picking up the dress you were wearing and throwing it up to you. “I’ll make you my personal whore, how about that?” You went silent. “Oh, come on, don't pretend this was not your idea… I was going to let you go with a warning but you came out with a better proposal. How could I say no?”

“I don't- I-” you shook your head.

“You belong to me now,” he chuckled. “A wildling made just for me to fuck as I please… Sounds perfect, does it not?”

You look into his grey eyes, perceiving and reading the mischievousness in them. You tried to escape and return to your freedom. Instead, everything went wrong and now you were trapped in the wolf's cage once again.

You were not sure how to feel about that.

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#cregan stark #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark fanfic #house of the dragon #house stark #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd fanfic

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nvrsaidiwasinurcloset · 2 months

Note

okay hi just a warning rq my autocorrect is off bc it autocorrected my friend’s name to fuckin malayalam on accident. i dont like autocorrect.

ANYWAY! ive been listening to my lovely olivia rodrigo lately, specifically her new song obsessed. i wanted to know if you could make a fic with Ethan x fem! reader where readers bitchy friend has this ex (Ethan) and she made him out to be a real dick. like, manipulating and everything.

reader eventually meets him and it turns out that she remembers… a lot about him considering her friend is a constant yapper and cant shut up about him. Ethan actually turns out to be a real cutie patootie and could literally never hurt anyone.

a few days later theyd meet again at some club or party maybe where they end up hitting it off… a little too well.. yeah so she ends up in his bed (smut part, very dom ethan plspls 😛😛). they could be talking about something really random and then reader brings up how her friend basically completely lied about him and said he was a piece of shit when he really wasnt. like a realllll fluffy end before a small cliffhanger thats never gonna get finished where her friend ends up finding out and texting her.

so sorry if thats too long or confusing idk but i actually love your work so much im lowkey your #1 fan. 😍😍😍

HELLO! I switched this up a little, I hope that's okay! 💕

Also, I fucking loved the 'leave it on a cliffhanger part that won't get finished' because WHY IS THAT WHAT I DO lmao

Obsessed - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader - Part 1

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Part 2

Summary: Your friend told you horrible lies about her ex-boyfriend, and once you get to know him, you realize he's not the monster she made him out to be.

Contains: Mentions of a toxic relationship, Dom-ish cocky Ethan, rough-ish sex, oral - f receiving, p in v, fluff (If I missed anything, PLEASE let me know. I'm sleep deprived atm)

A/N: This was the one that pulled me out of my writers block, lmao. It's still not where I want it to be, but I'm TRYING. I'll try to post more this week, but I will be busy so bear with me haha.

You didn’t know Ethan Landry, but you knew you didn’t like him. He used to date one of your friends, and after hearing all the horrible things he’d said and done during their relationship, you thought he was really scummy.

They dated in high school and couldn’t get enough of each other, so they wanted to go to the same college. They broke up right before freshman year started, and after almost a year, she still talked about him every chance she got. She’d tell you how controlling he was. The things he’d call her when he was mad. How he cheated on her. You couldn’t believe that she stayed in the relationship for as long as she did, because she never had anything good to say, except that she loved him.

You’d seen pictures of him, and after walking into one of your classes at the start of the new semester, you saw him in person for the first time. He was so shy as he took his seat in the lecture hall, some of the girls making their little comments about the rumors they’d heard about him. He didn’t seem like the type that would do the things your friend said, but maybe he was just really good at playing innocent. All you knew was that you needed to keep your distance from him.

When you met up with your friend later that day for lunch, you didn’t know if you wanted to bring up Ethan being in the same class as you, but once she brought him up, you decided to tell her.

“Speaking of Ethan…I saw him today,” you said, before taking a bite of your food. Her face dropped as she looked at you.

“Where did you see him?” she questioned. You explained that you saw him in one of your new classes, and she rolled her eyes. “Can you believe he still tries to text me?”

“What I can’t believe is that you haven’t blocked him,” you said, “I know I’d hate to see someone that treated me like shit’s name pop up on my phone.”

She started to giggle as you curiously stared at her. “I have him saved in my phone as ‘Tall loser with a small dick’, so I laugh every time he does text me.”

“That’s not toxic at all,” you said, as you started to think about what she’d said. “Wait, he treated you as bad as he did and has a small dick? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“All he had going for him was that he was cute,” she said, “But seriously, if I were you, I’d stay away from him.”

“Oh, please. Like I’d even want to be near him.”

Your morning wasn’t going as expected. You slept through all of your alarms; you didn’t have time to stop for coffee. You didn’t think your day could get any worse, until you walked into class and noticed the only empty seat available was beside Ethan. You took a deep breath before you walked over and sat down. Once you reached into your backpack, you realized that your laptop wasn’t there. You were in such a hurry when you ran out of your dorm and didn’t even think to grab it.

“Shit,” you whispered, “I’m so stupid.”

“Here,” Ethan said, passing you a notebook and a pen. You curiously looked at him as he offered a weak smile. “I always keep an extra notebook, just in case.”

“Thanks,” you said, a half-smile playing on your lips.

Once class started, you were taking your notes, but you kept glancing over to Ethan. He was so focused on typing that he didn’t notice, but you couldn’t help but wonder if everything your friend told you was true. At that moment, he didn’t seem like a jerk. Then again, he had only spoken a handful of words to you.

Ethan was aware of all the things that were said about him. He hoped that after a few weeks it all would’ve blown over, but once you have an angry ex-girlfriend paint you as some horrible, emotionally abusive asshole, it’s hard to come back from that. He knew that it was best for him to just keep his head down until he was able to transfer to a different school, where no one knew who he was. He was miserable at Blackmore, and he really had no reason to stick around, aside from the few friends he’d made.

After class was over, you tore the pages of notes you’d taken from the notebook to give it back to Ethan.

“Thanks again,” you said, as you handed it back to him.

“You’re welcome,” he said, shoving it back in his backpack. “I thought about just emailing you my notes, but I didn’t know if you’d want that.”

“You’re telling me I didn’t have to spend the last hour trying to write that fast?” you asked, as he flashed you a sweet, genuine smile. “Why wouldn’t someone want that?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s because most people here hate me,” he said, sliding the straps of his backpack over his shoulders. “You’ve probably heard things about me.”

“Yeah…are they true?” you asked, as he shook his head.

“You’re the first person that’s asked me that. Everyone else just assumes everything is true,” he sighed, “But no, I’m not a bad person.”

You started to feel so guilty. You’d said plenty of bad things about him, but you only heard one side of the story. With your friends’ story changing so many times, getting more dramatic each time she told it, you were starting to realize that it was all bullshit. You still didn’t know exactly what happened, but you were curious to know what the truth was.

“You okay?” Ethan asked, noticing that you were lost in thought as you stood in front of him.

“I’m friends with your ex,” you said, as his smile slowly fell. “What’s the real story?”

He sat back down in his seat as the other students piled out of the room. You sat beside him as you waited for him to speak.

“I really loved her…but she was just so controlling. Then she cheated on me when she went to the beach with her family. I didn’t find out about that until right before we started college,” he said, looking over to you. “She was pissed that I broke up with her, then all these horrible things about me started going around.”

“That’s fucked up,” you said, as he nodded.

“Yeah, she’s still been trying to text me. I finally blocked her a few days ago.”

“Wait, she said you’ve been trying to text her,” you said, his eyes growing wide at your words.

“Her number’s been deleted from my phone for months. I have no interest in talking to her,” he said, “I know this must be weird for you since you are her friend, but I think it’s cool that you wanted to hear me out.”

“Well, I feel like I need to apologize…I’ve said some things about you that weren’t true.”

“She’s a good liar. She has almost the entire school hating me so it doesn’t surprise me that her friend does, too,” he said, as he stood back up.

“I don’t hate you,” you said, smiling at him. “I don’t know if you’d want to, and I know she’d kill me, but if you ever want to hang out sometime, let me know.”

“I’d like that.”

Ethan was kicking himself for not asking you for your number, or shit, even your social media so he could DM you. He thought you were beautiful, but he knew that hoping for a chance with you would be a reach. He really just needed more people in his life that believed him to make the time he still had at the university more enjoyable.

Your friend begged you to come to a random frat party that you didn’t feel like going to in the first place. After your talk with Ethan, you weren’t even sure you wanted to be around her. You still went, and after searching for her for almost an hour, you checked your phone to see a message from her that she wasn’t coming, and that she ran into one of the guys she’d been hooking up with on the way to the party.

“Why the fuck am I even here?” you said to yourself as you locked your phone and slid it into the back pocket of your jeans.

“Hopefully to hang out with me, if your offer’s still good,” you heard from behind you, recognizing Ethan’s voice.

“Hey,” you said as you turned to face him. “I didn’t expect to see the most hated man on campus here.”

“My roommate told me that if I stayed in my dorm tonight, he’d throw my Xbox out the window,” he said, glancing over to the muscular guy that was watching Ethan talk to you.

“Ah, so you were threatened into being social,” you said, as he started to laugh.

“I guess you could say that. Do you want a drink?”

“Sure.”

Ethan wasn’t much of a drinker; you could tell by the sour look on his face every time he took a sip. It gave him a little confidence though, as the two of you talked and got to know each other a little better.

“I don’t think I can drink this anymore,” he said, sitting the cup down on a table. You sat yours down too, and as soon as you did, someone bumped into you, shoving you into Ethan.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you said, looking up at him. Your chest was pressed closely against his, his hands on your hips from catching you.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, “You can stay this close to me all night, if you want.”

“Are you always this smooth? Or is it the alcohol?” you questioned as he smirked at you.

“I’m only buzzed,” he said, before he leaned down, placing his lips on yours.

Chad was still watching Ethan from afar, cheering and thrusting his fist in the air once he saw Ethan kiss you. He started to laugh against your lips before he pulled away to stare daggers through his roommate for interrupting the moment.

“I can’t take him anywhere,” Ethan said, as you smiled at him.

“We could go somewhere more private,” you suggested, as he took your hand in his.

“Want to go back to my dorm? He’ll be here for a while so I know we can talk without being interrupted.”

“Sure!”

Once you made it back to Ethan’s dorm, you were starting to think that he really did just want to talk. You enjoyed listening to him, though. He was telling you about all his hobbies and interests, and you were telling him yours. You started to glance around his side of the dorm room, noticing the cliché, dorky things you’d expect to see.

“Nice Star Wars poster, nerd,” you joked, as he smirked at you.

“Oh, I’m a nerd?” he said, as he nudged you back on his bed. He was hovering over you, his mouth inches from yours. The sexual tension got so thick as his eyes looked into yours, his hand rubbing your hip.

“Mhm,” you said, the corner of your bottom lip in between your teeth. “A hot nerd.”

He felt his cheeks start to heat up, and he really didn’t want you to notice, so he leaned down to finally connect his lips to yours. It didn’t take long for the kiss to get more intense, his tongue brushing across your bottom lip. You let him deepen the kiss, his tongue moving with yours as his hands started to roam. You whimpered into the kiss once his hand squeezed your thigh, your hips started to squirm underneath him.

He pulled away but still stayed close so the two of you could catch your breath. You were reading each other’s faces, and it was obvious that you both wanted more.

“How far do you want this to go?” he asked, his breathing still heavy as his eyes looked into yours.

“As far as you want,” you said, your sweet tone making him groan.

“That’s not what I asked you,” he said, as he leaned back down to kiss your neck. His curls were tickling you, but the only reaction you had were the soft moans slipping past your lips from how well his mouth moved. His hips were rutting into yours, showing you how hard he was for you.

“I want you to fuck me,” you said, as he pulled away to look at you.

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

Ethan was a little, well, very eager. He got you undressed in what felt like seconds, leaving you in just your panties. Once he stripped down to just his boxers, you got a little curious. You glanced down to see his hard cock straining against the fabric, and started to laugh to yourself, your gaze going to the ceiling.

“What’s funny?” he asked, as he hovered back over you to take one of your nipples in his mouth. Your laughing stopped, a gasp slipping out when he started to suck. “I asked you a question,” he teased, before moving to the other side.

“She really does lie about everything,” you said, as his tongue swirled. “She said you had a small dick.”

He started to laugh against you, before he pulled back. “That’s funny, because she couldn’t take it.”

“I can,” you said, his smile turning to a smirk as his hand trailed down your body to rub you over your panties.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, as he moved lower down the bed to position himself between your thighs.

He slid your panties down your legs, before running his fingers over your wet pussy. Your eyes stayed on him, your bottom lip in between your teeth as he teased you. Your anticipation just kept building as he moved down the bed, positioning himself in between your thighs. He leaned in, slipping his tongue inside your entrance.

He was sloppily eating you out, his head moving from side to side. His arms hooked under your thighs to pull you as close to his face as he could as your hands went to his hair.

“So good,” you whimpered, your breathing getting faster as he worked you closer to your orgasm.

He slid his tongue out of you to focus on your clit, quickly replacing it with two of his fingers. Your back was arching off the bed as he moved his arm back and forth, applying as much pressure as he could to that spongy spot inside you as he sucked on your swollen bundle of nerves.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you babbled, as he started to chuckle with your clit in his mouth.

That was all it took for your legs to start shaking and your grip on his hair getting even tighter. Once your pussy started to clench around him, he slowed his fingers to a slow roll, not wanting to overstimulate you. His tongue gently licked your clit as he worked you through it, your whimpers getting softer as you came down from your high.

“That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had,” you admitted through your shaky breathing. Ethan started to laugh a little as you looked at him, your eyes hazy. “What?”

“Just wait until I’m inside you,” he cockily said, “You still confident that you can handle it?”

“I know I can,” you said, your legs instinctively spreading wide for him as his fingertips ran up your thigh.

“What are you going to do when no one else can make you feel as good as I do?” he questioned, as one of his fingers started to rub circles on your clit.

“I guess I’d have to keep you around then,” you said, as he shook his head.

“You’d only have me until summer starts,” he said, his finger moving faster. “I’m transferring to a different school after this year.”

“No, you’re not..fuck. I’ll convince you to stay,” you said, relaxing into the bed as he teased you.

Ethan pulled his hand away from your pussy before he slid his boxers off. He crawled back on top of you and reached over to his bedside table to grab a condom.

“I might let you convince me,” he said, as he lined up with your entrance. You tensed up a little because you knew how big he was. “Relax, baby.”

You did as he said, taking a deep breath as he inched his way inside of you. You were moaning as he stretched you out, and when you thought he was all the way in, he just kept going.

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, feeling so full as he finally came to a stop, wanting to give you plenty of time to adjust. “Told you..Fuck, I told you I could take it,” you said, already struggling to speak.

“Don’t get cocky,” he said, your mouth falling open as he started to move. “I’m going to ruin this pussy.”

“Ruin it,” you said, challenging him as your lusty, hooded eyes connected with his.

It took everything in Ethan to not immediately start pounding into you, but he didn’t want to hurt you. He started slow, your eyebrows already furrowing together, low moans slipping past your lips. The head of his cock hit that special spot every single time, but you needed more. He sped up a little as your legs wrapped around him, your hands gripped tightly around his biceps.

“Maybe you can take it,” he said, his breathing getting heavier. “Can I go faster?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, as his hips moved quicker.

Your brain was starting to turn to mush, the babbles slipping past your lips making absolutely no sense. The only thing your mind could process in that moment was how good Ethan was making you feel. He thought you were adorable, already so cock drunk, and he wasn’t even close to being done with you yet. He kept his pace, but occasionally thrust a little harder to see if you could take it, the loud moans slipping past your lips as your nails started to dig into his arms letting him know that you could.

He angled your hips to go even deeper. His pace was a little slow as he made sure you were okay. Your eyes were pleading with him to go faster, because you knew the words weren’t going to come out of your mouth. It was getting so hard for him to hold back, so he finally let go. He started to pound into you so hard that your skin was tingling, all the nerves in your body on edge. Your toes were curling as he slammed into your g-spot, your whimpers turning to cries as you felt your orgasm starting to build. It was hard for you to keep your eyes open, and you were sure Ethan was going to have your nail marks on his arms forever with how hard you were squeezing him.

“Fuck,” was the only word you were able to get out, your legs wrapping tightly around him as your body started to involuntarily jolt. Ethan was sure that everyone in the surrounding dorm rooms knew what was happening, because you were being so loud. He wasn’t letting up though. He loved that he was making you feel that good.

It only took a few more deep thrusts before your entire body started to tremble, loud whines flooding out of your mouth as the wave of euphoria washed over you. He chased his own orgasm as he fucked you through it, your pussy clenching him so tight that he was moaning himself.

“I’m almost there, baby,” he said, a slight rasp in his voice from all the panting he’d been doing.

You went limp, your grip on his arms and your legs around his waist relaxing as his hips started to falter, a loud groan slipping past his lips as he released into the condom.

He took a minute to catch his breath before he slid out of you. His abs were burning and his arms were sore from your nails, but he quickly got up to take the condom off so he could take care of you.

He crawled in the bed next to you as you adjusted to lay your head on his chest, still so fucked out that it was hard to process your thoughts. Ethan just held you close, his hands softly rubbing over your bare back as you relaxed into his touches.

“You’re okay, right?” he asked, after a few minutes of you not saying anything. You lazily nodded as your hand moved to rub across his chest.

You laid there in silence as you started to think about what’d just happened. You knew your friend was going to be pissed if she ever found out, but did that even matter? She made almost the entire university hate Ethan for things he never did, and it made you sad that he felt like he needed to switch to a different school so he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore.

“So…” you finally said, “How can I convince you to stay?”

He let out a nervous laugh, not knowing the best way to respond. “I can’t take people talking about me the way they do anymore.”

“Even if I convince everyone that it was all lies?” you questioned, your tone playful as you angled your head to look at him. “I think it’d be awful for you to leave because of her. You could miss out on someone that would treat you right.”

“Someone like you?” he questioned as he looked down at you. You nodded, before he leaned down to kiss you. “You’re good at this whole convincing thing.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” you asked, smiling as you sat up to look at him.

“Yeah, as long as you don’t break my heart,” he said, wrapping his arms around you to pull you back down to his chest.

“I won’t.”

You stayed in Ethan’s bed for a couple hours, making plans for all the dates he wanted to take you on. It felt like you’d known him for way longer than just a few days, the two of you having an instant connection. You hated to pull away from him, but you knew you needed to get dressed before his roommate got home.

“It’s late, can I walk you back to your dorm?” he asked, as he started to put his clothes back on.

“I can’t believe I thought you were this horrible monster. You’re so sweet,” you said, as he smiled at you. “Yeah, you can walk me home.”

Ethan walked you to the front door of your building, pulling you into a gentle kiss before he pulled away.

“I’ll text you,” he said, as he started to back away.

“Yeah, let me know when you make it back to your dorm, please,” you said, as he nodded.

When you made it upstairs and got settled into your bed, you heard your phone vibrate as it charged on your bedside table. You grabbed it and saw a goodnight message from Ethan, a huge smile on your face as you responded to him. You were so exhausted from the time you’d spend with him, and you soon felt yourself start to doze off. You heard your phone buzz again, your eyes lazily opening to see if it was Ethan. You took a deep breath once you read the message that was sent to you.

‘Why the fuck were you kissing Ethan at that party?’

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut #smut

451 notes · View notes

readychilledwine · 4 months

Note

So I saw a post on Tumblr that read:

“Imagine getting fucked from behind in a broom closet of the house of wind by Rhysand, his fingers in your mouth and his breath against your ear whispering “quiet down pet, you don’t want Feyre to catch us huh?”

And I am so desperate for a fic inspired by this. 👀

I love Feysand so, so much, but the thought of this did something to me.

I love your work so I immediately came to you. If you write it, thank you!!! If not, thank you anyway bc I love all of your work!! Ok byeeeee

.......alright you got me....

Extramarital Escapes

Warnings - smut, affair, slightly dub/con, abuse of power on Rhysand's end

A/n - I don't normally enjoy the idea of an affair and cheating, but I turned this into something I can work with.

This was wrong.

So very wrong.

You gasped as Rhys hit that spot inside of you again, growling as you clenched around him.

This was not what you had in mind when he hired you to be their live-in nanny. It had started innocent enough. Rhys would seek out your company when Feyre would head into Velaris. There were short glances, a soft touch to reach around you at times. Those touches slowly became longer, though. They lingered on your waist, the sides of your thighs, your arms. You had thought you were imagining it until Feyre's first trip out of the Court with Nyx.

"Have a drink with me?" He had stopped you from sorting the heir's clothing, tilting your head up to look at him. "They say you aren't supposed to drink alone, Darling."

You had agreed, following him to the cigar room you knew even Feyre never entered. It was his sanctuary. His place to be alone. She had her studio. He had this.

That one drink turned into him getting closer to you on the couch, cornering you between him and it. He tipped the wine back further as you took a sip, trying to get you to relax with this dangerous look in his eyes.

You were pinned below him an hour later, drunk and begging him to fuck you harder, to let you cum. All while he smiled above you, eyes blown out in lust, saying over and over again that you felt exactly like he imagined.

You had told him the next morning it was a one-time thing, that it would never happen again, regardless of if you wanted it to happen. The High Lord simply smirked, undressing you with his eyes all over again. "We will see."

He cornered and took you anytime he wanted after that.

On his desk after Feyre would fall asleep.

On the table when she was out of the house and Nyx was down for a nap.

In your room during the dead of night when he decided his wife wouldn't satisfy his need to feel complete control and power over someone.

You had told him this morning that you were done. If he continued to touch you after this, you would tell Azriel, Cassian, or Feyre, believing one of them would protect you from him.

You loved Nyx and he was why you had put up with being Rhysand's whore for so long, but you needed it to end. You needed the guilt to stop eating you alive at night. You knew you were worth more, are worth more.

Rhysand had again smiled. "You love your job, don't you, y/n?" You nodded, eyes watering. "And in your contract, it is stated your job is to ensure the happiness of my family, correct?" You nodding again. "Then I suppose if you are not willing to fulfill that obligation, I should find a new nanny."

He knew he had you as you took a shaky breath, tears rolling down your face at the idea of never seeing his son again. "I'd hate to take him away from you. He loves you so much, and it is so very clear you love him."

"Rhys, please," you felt him pull you to him, slotting you between his legs as he sat on his desk. "I just can't keep being a mated males whore."

His face softened, hand moving to hold your chin. "You are not my whore. You are my escape. If you do not want that, if you do not want to be loved by me, then we have so few options."

You looked up and away from him. "I just want to take care of Nyx. Like I was hired to do."

"Then you do so on my conditions."

That was how you found yourself, chest pressed against the wall in an unused broom closet. The High Lord pounding you from behind, his fingers down your waiting throat to silence your cries.

You felt your eyes roll back, moaning loudly as you sucked those digits. His other hand was on your clit, circling the bundle of nerves in time with each heavy drag of his cock. "Shush," he growled in your ear. "Gotta be quiet, darling. You wouldn't want Feyre to catch us, would you?" He nipped your pointed ear, causing your walls to twitch around him. "Acting like you don't love my cock inside of you this morning, but now here we are. Sure, it feels like you love it when I'm inside of you. Don't you?"

You could only nod, eyes squeezing shut and moaning more as his hips met the plush skin of your ass over and over, driving into you again and again.

You could feel your orgasm building waiting for him to give the command to let go, and suddenly, he stopped. Pulling out of you and slapping your aching cunt. "This is your punishment for trying to end things with me," he whispered into your ear. "If you're a good girl the rest of the day, maybe I will let you cum tonight when she goes to Rita's with the girls."

He left you there, wet and aching for him in that broomcloset. You sunk down the wall, head falling to your knees.

A few hours later, you had finally gotten Nyx down for the night. You sighed, heading to Rhysand's office to let him know the heir was sleeping, that you would tend to him during the night since Feyre was gone, but two hushed voices had you stopping.

"You have to tell her," a feminine voice stated. "I don't want her to quit over this. Nyx loves her, Rhys."

"I know," Rhysand's voice was barely audible. "She tried today. I had to manipulate her into staying before I fucked her in the broom closet. You were supposed to catch us and join us."

You covered your mouth, hiding the gasp you made before standing silently. Feyre sighed on the other side of the door, "I got busy. Azriel had reports, and he was looking for you. I had to lie to him, Rhys. I don't want to keep lying to our family about her and what she is to us."

"Then let's replan it for next week. Since you are supposed to be out of the house. I wanted to give her the weekend off. I'm scared if I do now, she won't come back."

You walked away, having heard enough information, yet not enough all at the same time.

You could not tell if you were angry, excited, curious. You went to your room, closing and locking the door.

As you bathed, the side of you that hated games began to emerge, and you began a plan of your own. In that moment, you decided one thing, if Rhysand and Feyre wanted to play, you'd play too.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager

Rhys tag list:

@tothestarsandwhateverend

💜 If you would like to be added to my general taglist, or a character specific one, let me know 💜

#acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #send anons #rhys acotar #rhys x reader x feyre #rhys x reader #feysand x reader #feyre acotar #rhysand x reader #feysand #rhys x you #rhys x y/n

777 notes · View notes

mrsnancywheeler · 5 months

Text

the lakes (6) // finnick odair x f. reader

merry christmas to all who celebrate, my gift to you 🎄

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

5k words

warnings: angst, fluff, SMUT MDNI (y'all better eat it up while it's here bc this might be one of like twice or three times so merry christmas lmao), orgasm denial, teasing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slightly mean finnick but also softdom, mentions and allusions to trafficking and sexual trauma, self-hate, manipulation of someone's feelings, allusions to death/violence, pnv, usage of weapons, terms of endearment, no use of y/n, unedited, cumming inside, mental health issues, self doubt, hypocritical reader, savior complex finnick

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Cold air hit your skin as the doors to the training center opened, instantly you could feel the onslaught of goosebumps on your arms. “Remember brush up on skills, knives, spears and number one objective-”

"Katniss.” You finished for him. "You go get your hands back on that trident, and hopefully my instincts will remember what it takes to throw a knife or a spear.”

"If not, work on some survival skills, but I think the instincts will kick in.” You tilted your head to the side, uncertain but humoring the idea. He kissed you softly, “See you soon."

"I'm only going to be a few hundred feet away, Finnick.” You smiled and he did too.

“Well that's a few hundred feet too far.”

"Good thing you can come find me anytime you want.” Squeezing his hand as you reluctantly took a few steps back.

“You don't want to come and admire me back in my element?" He joked, his grin bearing his shining teeth.

“In your dreams, Odair."

“Absolutely!" Finnick's eyebrows quirked up before you finally pulled yourself out of his magnetic field to focus on the more viral thing, survival.

It had been so long since you'd thrown a knife with purpose, over half a decade which had been what you felt most confident in. Of course there had been a couple times, admittedly more than a couple, when your nerves spiked up and a moment where you were simply making dinner, chopping something up, to being spooked by a noise that led to a knife wedged in a wall or cupboard. So Finnick cooked and cut, he wasn't as easily startled or on edge.

This year they had clearly made more of an investment into the training, a little pad verifying it was you when you stood on the elevated block. You took a second before lifting the tiny weapons from where they lay, the weight was instantly familiar in a way that made your chest heave. It felt like you were that same young girl again, trying to see what could help her survive, help her overcome others. Finnick has been right, how to throw a knife, how to throw it to kill, all came back like child's play.

The instant the first hologram appeared it was like your brain went on autopilot, they weren't real but your brain was screaming, survive, survive, survive. Each knife flew from your hand with lethal aim, your arms instinctively knew what to do, how to throw precisely as fast as possible. So you trusted your body when suddenly the simulation was over, you felt your head coming back to reality. It was terrifying, you'd felt like you were in a dizzy high and suddenly you were that same young girl terrified in the arena. Full of guilt and regret for the lives you'd taken.

“I thought your weapon of choice was a spear." A voice cut through your thoughts, bringing your thoughts back to the person you were now. Peeta, ever outgoing and charismatic just as he'd been depicted, with an untrusting looking Katniss not far behind.

“No, that's what was convenient at the end, but the spear was never mine, it was-"

“Conway’s." Katniss finished the name you hated saying, hated remembering for you. “You killed in the Bloodbath with knives and then the girl from District 2." She must have been rewatching everyone's games, learning their tactics.

“Ironic, weren't they the District 2 girl from last year's weapon of choice as well?" You asked, stepping off the platform.

“Yes." She was tense, stiff it radiated off of her, stagnating the air.

“When there's such limited options, it's hard to get much differentiation. You certainly helped mix the bag last year.” Not just with her little bow and arrow, you hoped she knew what you were really saying, but couldn't with the people watching from above. She probably didn't, she was like a guard dog who didn't know whether or not one could be warmed up too, but would always assume the worst.

“I'm glad that was entertaining." Her voice was bitter as if she had no idea that everyone here has gone through the exact same trauma and felt the same way.

“It certainly was for them." You glanced upwards, towards the head game maker and his cronies observing you all like lab rats. “Most of us were." The Morphlings certainly had to be the most boring show of all, to those who couldn't realize it was such a smart tactic to stay alive, even if it didn't make great daytime television.

“You should teach us how to throw sometime." Peeta inserted himself back into the conversation. "If you want, we could teach each other things. I could go over camouflage.” He offered with a smile.

“Yeah of course!" You smiled back. “When you blended into the rocks by that stream, it was truthfully unfathomable in talent to be able to do that."

“And Katniss can shoot, I'm sure you've seen, but she never misses." Katniss shot him a glare, "Just following Haymitch's orders.” Peeta shrugged before his eye was caught by Johanna finishing up with her ax training. “I should get a formal introduction." He was walking away when Katniss spoke again.

“Why'd you volunteer for that girl?" She asked, and you turned your head towards her.

“For Annie?" You felt like it was obvious, but Katniss just nodded. “I wasn't going to put her through this again, that wouldn't have been fair of me. I couldn't let any of them, I couldn't have lived with myself if I had, so I might as well die on that hill now." Your candor seemed to make her less stiff. “You know, she was the first tribute I mentored. Years after my games, I did everything I could to help her win, to prepare her, but I couldn't prepare her for what happened after. Seeing her after that it was like I failed." Annie would forever be known as the one who went "a little crazy.” Maybe that was a blessing though, maybe it saved her from a much worse fate. Katniss' eyes finally looked more soft, not off guard, but not blocked off from your words.

“Even though you know this time only one of you can come out?" Her eyes briefly flickered towards Finnick before landing back on you.

“I'm not expecting to be the one who makes it out and she wouldn't have either. It's worth it to save her, he'll be fine without me." The words were too raw, too much like being stripped naked, but you knew you needed her to trust you and being honest would probably be the most effective route. Of course she couldn't completely trust you if she'd watched your games, you didn't blame her for that, but you just needed a little of it. “It's not different from what you did for your sister, sometimes you just know when that person needs to be protected no matter what that means for you."

Katniss began walking over to where the spears were located, “Like Peeta said, if you show me how to use the spear and the knives, I can show you how to shoot the bow and what plants and berries you can trust." This was her way of some form of acceptance you realized and internally congratulated yourself.

“Sounds like a deal to me." You picked one of the heavy spears up, it was also just as you remembered. It brought back flashes of the boy who taught you how to use it, the boy you'd killed with it. You could tell what she was thinking as you held it, how you used Conway, used his emotions and then his own weapon. “You know, the funny thing is people act like he didn't know, but that’s really what made it so brilliant.” Katniss looked confused as you stepped into the platform, which confirmed it was you. "Looking back you realize how early on he had me figured out and was playing me right back, I really think that's what endeared us to each other in the first place. He was trying to beat me at my own game almost from the beginning and I didn't even realize.” You launched the spear into the first hologram before quickly grabbing the other as Katniss watched on, absorbing the seemingly impromptu rant. “I can't blame him, I don't blame him even if I'm the one who gets it all placed on my head, which I probably deserve." Another spear knocking the hologram figure apart. The final one ready to fly. “You just have to remember who the real enemy is."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

"You two already have an advantage being from District 4, plenty of opportunities to practice with what you would be good at using in lessons. So stick with whatever you were good at then to impress, but don't forget to learn other skills that could be life saving in the long run.” Finnick was breaking down the plan for the two of you as the walk for the first training session with the other tributes was about to ensue. Although it went unspoken you'd also been blessed with extra practice even from back when you were dating Finnick in the district, he was so anxious that he needed to ensure you knew how to protect yourself. That you polished your skills, which he was sure you could do.

"Show off your strengths, but don't forget you're not just impressing the gamemakers, but the approval of other tributes can be vital. Alliances are important.” Ondine added.

Finnick nodded in agreement, “Another advantage from District 4, is the availability of the Career pack of tributes. All of the best trained and prepared tributes, especially if you show off enough to impress Districts 1 & 2 you're both a shoe-in. I'd encourage that as the strongest choice."

“I don't think we should do that." Conway’s voice of disagreement made you stop in your tracks. What was wrong with him? What could possibly be going on in his head that possessed him to argue with your mentor, someone who'd won before? Finnick raised an eyebrow, in a look you could only describe as patronizing. “I'm just saying that also means they're the best prepared to stab us in the back when it comes down to it. If we ally with tributes from a less prominent district it could make it easier when it comes down to it, make it less vicious.” He was delusional, it would be vicious no matter what when there were just a few people left.

You looked at Ondine who’s eyes were closed as she shook her head, Finnick's arms were crossed as he looked at the two of you, and Conway looked expectantly right at you. Then it hit you, this was a test. In order to maintain his trust in the fantasy you'd been carefully creating you'd have to take his side, prove you weren't loyal to every thing Finnick muttered. Even if it was hypocritical it angered you, it felt hellishly unfair that he would put you in a predicament like that. Who cared about the relationship between you and Finnick when he was the mentor offering advice to save both of your lives?

Conway pointed at you, urging you for a response. “I mean, what do you think? I'm just babbling aloud, I'll drop it if you think it's stupid." Maybe you were just paranoid, no, this was definitely a loyalty test. To him your love would mean support, it would mean unwavering devotion. So you painfully forced a caring, understanding look in your eyes, for your muscles to relax, and a loving smile on your face.

“Of course we should keep our options open, I mean we're not even there yet, the Careers this year might not even be the best options. You're right, Conway, we should consider every path to help us." Of course the Careers would be prepared, he was going to get you killed if he kept pulling this. Reasoning that at least your actions were well calculated not blindly emotional scrutinization. It made you slightly resent him, but the answer seemed to satisfy him as he grinned at the other two before beginning to walk again.

The slight spring in his step was obvious to anyone paying close enough attention, it upset you. When you hoped Conway wasn't watching, you shot a look towards Finnick. It was quick, but you grimaced and hoped your eyes could express your annoyance. Although the bob of his head was equally quick you could see he understood and was feeling just as enraged as you felt if not more. How could Conway claim to care about you when he could threaten a potentially life saving alliance to try and prove a point about how much you felt for him over Finnick? Although Finnick still wore a charming smile you could feel him seething and it comforted you somehow to know that he would never, that he would always pick safety, your safety and that he wouldn't stand for Conway’s games either. Even if rationally it did make sense, you were messing with him which both you and Finnick knew, but there wasn't time to think on that when it was life and death.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“You're brilliant, even if it pains me to admit that you beat me to it." Finnick shook his head, smiling wildly. Haymitch had informed you that so far Katniss would have liked you as an ally if it weren't for the package deal that included Finnick. A feat considering all the tributes that wanted to ally with her after her impressive show in the archery station. It had truly been amazing, how smoothly she used the weapon, and how accurate she was.

“Well, you're welcome." You pecked him on the lips, smiling. Sitting down on the bed and smoothing out your robe, Finnick soon followed.

“I love you so much." He mumbled as he crashed down onto the mattress.

“I love you too, Finnick." Your head lay down by his, quietly counting the freckles scattered across his face.

“Staring is rude." His eyes shone with his internal brightness that he couldn't hide from you.

“Isn't that a perk I should get being your wife and all?" He scooted closer, nose brushing against yours.

“I suppose. Don't know why you'd need to, there's no need to memorize when you're stuck with me forever now."

“Good." There was nothing you wanted more than to see his handsome face every day, from when you woke to when you slept and every moment in between.

His hot hands embraced your cold face, making you shiver and he smirked. It was so patronizing, how he knew that his skin to yours was like fire on ice so you had no choice but to melt, but you couldn't stop yourself from softening anyways. Before you could even try and conjure up words to try and call him out, his lips were on yours.

He wasn't aggressive, never, but his gentleness didn't take away from his control. Your lips chased him and suddenly you were beneath him, swept up in his plush lips. Hands searched for him before he pulled his face away. You couldn't stop yourself before you whined at the removal of his lips from yours, pouting at him.

He scoffed, looking down at you slightly condescending, “Really, angel?" You could feel your face heating up as his eyes gazed at you, his hand delicately tracing the hem of your robe. “We don't have to do this, if you don't want to, sweet girl. You have to communicate with me, I don't want to push you, if you even don't feel comfortable you need to tell me." It felt like too much in the moment when it seemed so blatantly obvious that you wanted him, craved him. But it also made you love him so much more.

For so long it had been difficult to even be touched. The Capitol had come in and dug their talons into you, your own intimacy didn't even belong to you. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. You'd tried to push it down, he'd dealt with it for so much longer, since he was so much younger. Pushing it down didn't stop the roots of trauma from taking root deep within your soul though.

You felt guilty for not being able to give yourself in so many ways to Finnick who was unbelievably patient, of course he was, he understood, he cared. When you'd finally grazed your hand against his and let him grab it, the pureness of the touch was enough to make you burst into tears. That made it more difficult too though, your tears. A tactic that had once seemed wise in winning over the Capitol as a sweet, innocent girl had come back to bite you. Echoes of how pretty you were when you cried.

When you'd finally given that part of yourself to Finnick, of your own accord, the will that has usually been taken from you. He'd made sure you wouldn't regret it, he brought back the positives of intimacy which you'd forgotten about. You were so used to calling upon the tears as you zoned out, floated away. But not with Finnick, never with him. Where you both belonged to each other and were truly connected as one.

“Are you comfortable?" You asked softly. It felt selfish that he was so worried about you with what he'd been through as well, like it was too much about you.

Finnick sighed, “Don't do that." You looked at him quizzically, “Averting the question, you shouldn't be doing it to please me, I'll be okay. I wouldn't have gotten this far if I wasn't.” His hand stroked the side of your face which chased each movement. "Are you certain you want this? I'm not going to be upset if you say no, angel.” The way he loved you so deeply to be going step by step wasn't even grating anymore it just made your heart buzz even more.

"I do want this Finnick, I know what to say if it is too much.” The thumb grazing your neck was enough to make your eyes roll back, your entire body sensitive with the waiting.

Finnick nodded, slowly. Making sure you weren't just trying to appease him, "Color?”

You sighed dramatically, "Green.” He tugged your hair lightly, "Ow!”

"So impatient, trying to take good care of my girl and she's too desperate to appreciate it.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

You pouted, “I'm sorry, Finnick. I'm just-" You gasped as his hand slipped in your rope, warm hand grazing the cold, hardness of your nipple. Legs rubbing together, his other hand, instantly sitting between them to hold them still.

“Speak up, angel. Just what?" That's what you appreciated so much, he was dominant, took care of you without the casual cruelty others often used. Of course he could be cruel in the best way, a type that still cared and knew what the line was and respected it.

“Need you, please. So, so bad." Your hands grabbed his shoulders, then the sides of his neck desperately trying to feel more of his warmth.

He hummed condescendingly, “You do?" His hand left your breast to the toe of the robe which he slowly unknotted. You nodded, brows furrowed as you tried to buck your hips. The hand prevented your legs from getting closer together, hitting your inner thigh but not in a forceful manner. “Come on sweet girl, can't you behave for me, won't you be my good girl?" His ocean eyes had you nodding along mindlessly. “Words."

“Yes, please, I just, please I need more."

“So needy." The knot on your robe untied, falling open to reveal you to the crisp air. His hand trailing down to where you needed him most, the feeling already sending shocks through your body. You wanted desperately to buck your hips up once again but resisted. He chucked, “Is this all for me? I haven't even really touched you yet." You nodded desperately, the teasing made you want to cry in desperation. Which was fine, but thinking about it scared you, the way they'd taken away two things that were so natural, so personal would distract you.

“Finnick." You said shakily and the time instantly made his face get serious.

“Are you okay? Do we need to stop?" You shook your head vigorously.

"No, just-” Your fingers fiddled with the blanket, embarrassed, "Can you just take some deep breaths with me?”

"Of course, my love.” He grabbed the hand nervously moving around the blankets to hold it to his heart. “You're okay, in and out with me, angel." You closed your eyes, breathing with him, his heart reverberating through you. “Let me know when you want to keep going or stop." He whispered.

“Finnick, I just want to cry, not in a bad way just it's been so, so ruined for me." Weaponized, sexualized.

He nodded, “You can cry if you want, I'll wipe them away from you." The idea made you want to cry at his sweetness alone.

“Okay." Your voice was shaky, “We can keep going, please." His fingers began moving again, right over your core. Palm slightly running against you and it took all of you to not rub with him. Fingers delicately circling your sensitive nub and you moaned out. The first tears falling which he diligently wiped away with his time and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Is that good?" You nodded blissfully and he swatted at your bareness causing a yelp.

“Yes, thank you Finnick, so good."

“Good girl, such a fast learner." You whimpered, toes curling. “What do you need?"

“In me, please."

“What, my fingers?" He held one hand up, moving them in front of your face. The man was mocking you, he knew what you meant and he kept rubbing your clit, making it nearly impossible to keep verbalizing.

“No!" You stammered out desperately. He smirked and removed his fingers from your bundle of nerves, causing you to hit his arm in frustration before he was grinding his clothed member on you and your hands wrapped around his shoulder tightly. You nodded intently, “Yes please. Want you to be inside of me, want to be one Finnick, yours." It hit you that this was the consummation of your marriage which made your heart swell as well as your need.

“Can't deny you anything, sweet girl." He was such a liar, but right now he followed through. Your hands began pulling down the pants he wore, desperate to free him so he could be buried in your walls. He groaned as your hand grazed his tip, precum dotting it. You licked your lips and he smirked cockily, “Another time, angel."

"How do you want me?” You asked, you'd take him anyway he wanted just to be clenched around him.

"Just the way you are is perfect, wanna see you, beautiful.” He lined himself up with your soaked entrance, "Are you sure, you're ready? Don't need more preparation.” You shook your head vigorously, pushing yourself forward to feel the tip and he grunted.

“Don't need it, so wet, I can take you, promise."

"Only if you're sure.” You nodded again, pouting.

"Please!” You whined and with that he didn't hold back, pushing his full length in and you nearly screamed. Clenching your walls around him, fingernails digging into him.

“That feel good?"

“So, so, so good." You began sliding your hand down, but he caught it tutting in disapproval.

"I've got you, angel, just lay there like a good girl. Let me take care of you too, you're making me feel so good.” His expert fingers went straight back to your clit as he began pounding in and out of you.

“Oh God, Finnick!" Your eyebrows pulled together and eyes snapped shut as he filled you. It was like you were a perfect fit for each other.

“So perfect angel, just looking at you made me think I wasn't even gonna make it into you." Finnick groaned, he knew exactly what you liked, what pace to go. You'd been so used to faking it or them not caring at all, but with him he could get you there so fast, so hard, and could do it over and over so perfectly. His fingers rubbing into your bundle of nerves that had you biting into your bottom lip to stop you from waking the whole floor. Both actions made you want to scream in ecstacy. “Are you close already, angel? Do I really make you feel like that, so fast?” You nodded, dumbly making mindless noises as his hips thrusted in and out. “Me too. I don't know how you do it to me. Where do you want me, stomach, mouth, inside?" His groaning was making his own speech shaky.

“Inside please, need to feel it, Finnick."

“You sure?" He asked, biting down on his bottom lip as your moans from his skilled fingers working their magic as he kept moving inside of you made him even closer.

“Yes, yes, yes, need to be one, just you and me. Need it inside." He pinched the bundle of nerves lightly as he hit the spot inside of you that had you kicking your feet on sheets. “I'm gonna, oh I'm gonna-"

“I know, just wait a little bit longer, angel, I'm almost there. So close, be my good, good girl." You whined, nodding.

“Wanna be so good for you."

He nodded, the words bringing him even closer to the edge as he roughly thrusted into you. “You are, so good, just gotta hold back a little longer." You were sobbing, lost in the high as he wiped away the tears streaming down.

“Feels so good, Finnick, I can't please let me, need to."

“Wait." He said sternly, at this point he felt like he was denying himself too just to watch you squirm and listen to his every word. Grabbing your face softly so your eyes were trained on him, hand still rubbing fast circles on your clit. “Been such a good girl, don't ruin it." His hips started stuttering inside of you.

You shook your head, “I won't, I'm sorry. Wanna be good." He let go of your face with his free hand and pinched your nipple. “Finnick, please, I can't. Please don't be mean, I need you.”

"Making me feel so good, my love. Clenching around me, trying to hold back, you're such a good listener." He pinched your clit again, he was being mean, he couldn't deny it but the way you cried out and started trying to push away from him was bringing him straight to the edge. “Color?"

“Green." You choked out, “Please, Finnick, I can't." Your hands pushed against his chest.

"Then you know what to say, angel." He raised an eyebrow, “So you can." It would feel so much better, be so much harder for both of you the longer he kept this up. His lips attached to your breast and you tugged his hair, he moaned onto you and the vibrations had you desperately trying to fend off the orgasm approaching.

“Please, I need to. I know you are too." He thrust into that special spot in you again and your hands hit the sheets in frustration as your eyes fluttered.

“Be patient, don't be a brat." He pulled away from your breast to look at you. He pressed down on your clit and thrust into you again, “Oh god, gonna let go inside of you now, angel. Be all over your walls, gonna feel so good. Been such a good girl, you ready to let go of me."

“Yes, please!"

“You can let go, sweet girl." His lips pressed to yours to quiet both of you moans as you finally both let yourself go. You could've sworn the way his split inside you made your shaking even harder. It was so good, so worth it.

You were nearly breathless when you pulled away, “That was new."

“Are you okay?" He asked, eyes full of concern.

“Yeah, of course. I just, you're always incredible, I'm great.” You laughed breathlessly.

"Oh, good.” He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

“Thank you."

“You don't have to thank me, angel."

“Yes I do, they've taken so much of both of us and you just bring so much of it back to just being so real, so it doesn't feel like they own it anymore."

“That's just being a decent human, I just want to take care of you. Through all the ups and downs." He was so kind, it made you ecstatic that for as long as either of you were alive you'd always be one with each other, bonded through everything you loved. “Come on, we have another long day tomorrow, let's get cleaned up."

“What if we just didn't go, just laid here together, until it passed."

“I'd love to." His eyes were earnest and like pools you could drown in, “Nothing I want more than being with you forever. But they'd drag us out and we have things to do, my love.” He helped lift you up from where you lay comfortably. Your nose scrunched up." What?”

You pulled apart your thighs, "So sticky.”

He laughed before he could stop himself, "Well I'm not the one who asked for it.” That smug, loveable ass.

"Shut up, you loved it.” Softly shoving his arms as you went to stand.

He raised his arms in defense, "Guilty as charged."

He was so perfect, the way he was so effortlessly funny, so compassionate for all your needs even if you didn't verbalize them, how patient he was yet so stern and guiding. Much too good for what you could give him, you'd go to hell and back to do half as much as he did for you. Of course he always assured you of all you did to help him, but it felt so miniscule compared to what he did for you. The things you would sacrifice to help him, to be by his side were unmatched.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading!! I haven't written smut in so long and this really isn't a smut heavy series but I felt like exploring how what snow did to the victors who were deemed to be desirable would effect their intimacy and sometimes a little spice is needed to deal with all the angst I write. if you enjoyed it feedback is always appreciated, likes, comments, reblogs, anything and my ask box is already open if you have any questions or ideas! thank you all so much for reading 💋

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madddays · 1 year

Text

camera shy

pairing: yoongi x reader (f) summary: after his last Oakland show, you carve out a little alone time with your husband, away from the stage lights and the cameras and the million people who always seem to be around rating/genre: explicit // fluff + smut + slice of life-ish (it’s a tour fic!) + an attempt at humour warnings: smut -- oral + fingering (f receiving), missionary, unprotected sex (they’re married it’s fine), terribly thought-out plot note: hello!!! i haven’t written anything in this format in a long time (poetry is my medium of choice) so pls be gentle!! also this is set in what is the “current timeline” but is of course fictional and i took every creative liberty i could :) also there was supposed to be a little bit at the end that i cut out bc reader was getting a little too cuckoo but that’s where the title came from and i couldn’t think of another. okay. anyway.

Being on tour is exhausting.

You’re not sure you have the right to complain – you’re not the one performing high-energy shows in sold out arenas every night. But you are lifting your share of your husband’s emotional weight as he does his solo tour. His first solo tour, as is stressed to you.

And you’re dodging cameras left and right. While it was impossible for you to stay out of the picture completely — the team at HYBE had convinced you that there was no need to hide your presence — being an idol’s wife didn’t really make you the most… sympathetic character.

So you try to keep the complaining to a minimum.

“If I have to duck out of one more cameraman’s way today…” you grumble under your breath. Sejin laughs.

“There’s only so long they can spend in your room,” he placates. “And tomorrow you’ll have use of the business centre again.”

You harrumph. Fucking businesspeople using the business centre for their business shit. Hunkering down over your laptop again, you attempt once more to read over the article you needed to finish editing tonight. You’re finally making a little headway, getting into the groove, and then —

“That’s it!” you snap in English, frantically trying to catch the open water bottle that almost spilled all over your computer. The culprit, a man looking through the lens of his giant stupid camera on his giant stupid tripod, glances at you with a bored expression.

“Whoops,” he says lightly, wheeling the contraption slightly to the left of where he’d bumped the desk. “Should probably keep that closed.”

You see red. Just as you’re about to toss this man and his equipment out the 50th story window, your husband appears.

“Jagiya,” Yoongi murmurs to you, placing a grounding hand at the side of your face. You instantly relax about fifty percent. “I’m sorry, just the rest of the afternoon.”

You look up at him, at his soft pleading face. He’s turned away from the filming crew, hiding both his expression and yours. You relax the rest of the way, resting in his palm, a little guilt creeping in.

It’s not his fault. Obviously, everything was going to be filmed — a BTS member’s first solo tour. There was going to be a documentary, and like it or not, you were going to be in it. As marginally as possible, everyone had insisted, but you couldn’t afford to look bad. Unfortunate that the filming crew was full of a bunch of dicks who didn’t give a shit about anyone who wasn’t the star. “No,” you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I know you hate this as much as I do, probably more. I’ll try to be good.”

At this, Yoongi smiles, shoulders jerking with a laugh. “I’m not asking for a miracle,” he teases. “Just a little patience.” You roll your eyes. You can behave.

Just then, the same nimrod shoots a look at you, almost goading, as Sejin picks up your laptop and its accessories so the Christopher Nolan wannabe can put some more douchebag equipment where it just was. You look Yoongi straight in the eyes, dead serious. “If that man crosses me one more time, I’m going to kill him. And I’m going to film it with his stupid fucking camera.”

--------------- xxx ---------------

Most people expect you to be ecstatic about the proximity to free tickets that being married to Yoongi brings. And you love watching him perform. Up on the stage, in his element. He’s never more radiant than when he’s singing and rapping, leaning in close to the edge of the stage so he can look into the fans’ eyes — gloss, a fitting name for the shining star you see giving his all.

And the confidence is incredibly sexy. So you have a competency kink, sue you.

But god is it tiring being there. Even in the nosebleeds, or in the VIP box. You can’t exactly abandon Yoongi afterwards, so you have to make your way discreetly backstage with the security team, and then you wait through the undressing and the debriefing and the security checks and the filming. Sometimes the media circus. Only then can you sneak into a car with him and head back to the hotel.

So you stay behind tonight. It’s the last day of the American leg, and you’ve already seen a few spectacular shows. You have your own life, your own responsibilities. Which includes deadlines.

You were able to come with Yoongi for this leg of the tour because you’d promised your boss an exclusive — first dibs on Agust D’s experience touring in the U.S. While you wouldn’t be allowed to take part in the spread (a very clear conflict of interest, no bueno) you’re excited for it. The potential of the photoshoot alone is making your head spin.

But part of the deal was also to keep working. The list of articles your Senior Editor ass has to go over is slowly dwindling, this feature on Korea’s impact on global fashion getting to the finish line.

“Yes!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in the now blessedly empty hotel room. Email with the finished article sent, you roll your chair to look straight into the little camera that’s trained on the desk Yoongi’s claimed and flip it the bird.

Job done and borderline invasive filming (it’s only on when Yoongi decides to get some working shots for them, but still) disrespected, there’s not much left to do but wait.

When the third time cycling through all your social media apps doesn’t provide any groundbreaking entertainment, you decide to call down to reception for some reading material. It’s not technically work if you’re just reading a dozen trashy ‘Who Wore It Best?’ segments. “Anne Hathaway, hwaiting!” you mutter to yourself.

--------------- xxx ---------------

A couple hours later, you’re still thoroughly immersed in your magazines and your music, completely missing the cacophony in the hallway. The knock on your door startles you so thoroughly you hit your head against the headboard.

“Unnie, are you okay?” asks Ari, one of the stylists. “I was coming to call you to eat!”

“Oh, you’re all back! One sec!” You scramble off the bed, excited to see the aftermath of the show. You barely remember to put on a pair of pants before rushing out the door, Ari’s surprised face greeting you. “Thanks, Ari-yah,” you grin, locking arms with her. “How was the show?”

“It was great! Oppa is always good, but tonight he was especially energetic.” Her face screws up a little. “He ripped another one of the jackets, though.”

An inconvenience to her, but you don’t share the irritation. Yoongi’s broad shoulders busting his clothes, yum. “Oh,” you say anyway, your sympathy unconvincing, “that’s annoying.” Ari snorts.

“Sure. At least it’s new costumes for the next leg. We’ll refit them.”

You practically vibrate with excitement at that. “I haven’t seen them yet! I’m sure you all did an awesome job!”

She blushes. “I think it’ll be good! They’re not totally finalized yet, but I’ll send you a ton of pictures.” Her eye drops in a wink, making you giggle delightedly.

Dinner is a buffet in one of the conference rooms of your beloved business centre. One of the security team members escorts you down with a group of the staff, but most people had gone down earlier, apparently very hungry. Yoongi among them. As you approach the doors, you hear someone complaining to him that they should’ve done this at a restaurant and where is his sense of celebration.

“Come on,” you hear him grumble. “It’s not like the entire tour is over. We can all go out tomorrow.”

You snort. “And then tomorrow you’ll say ‘tomorrow never comes’.” If it were happening to someone else, you’d never let them live down how quickly their husband’s head snapped towards them, but you make an exception because yours is so cute.

Despite his enthusiastic surprise, he doesn’t miss a beat. “Great, now I have to come up with a new excuse. Thanks for that,” he rolls his eyes, but immediately swaps the empty plate you grab with the one he was filling up for himself, no room to argue. Your giddy mood sours a little when you catch sight of the filming crew again.

Yoongi holds your hand over his bouncing knee and the two of you sneak food off and onto each other’s plates. The mood is bright and light, despite everyone’s obvious exhaustion (at least three people by your count are in danger of falling asleep into their food). You expect to see an extended shot of the staff and crew laughing and eating, a flushed Yoongi being plied with praise and encouragement, under some sort of pensive voiceover.

And you’re right, because right after he’s done eating they whisk Yoongi away to do what is sure to be a thorough recount of his adventure in the States. You’re a little jealous that they get to hear all about it before you do. Fuckers.

As the room starts to clear out, you bid everyone a good night and trudge back up to your room, planning to crawl into bed and wait for your husband.

But when you open the door, he’s already there. Your immediate thought is that the air conditioning is up too high for him to leave his hair damp like that. Your second thought is how pretty he looks — sharp eyes focused on his legal pad, sinful hand flying across the page trying to get down whatever lyrics are thundering through his brain, cheeks flushed and pouty mouth puckered. He must’ve gone straight from the shower to his desk.

After a few moments he must sense your eyes on him, because his writing falters and he turns to you, a soft smile breaking out across his face. Your heart flutters.

“Hey!” he says happily, pulling out his earbuds. “I was waiting for you.”

“Clearly,” you laugh, moving to perch on the table in front of him. He pulls your feet into his lap, putting his papers aside. You resist the urge to sneak a peek, instead asking “did I interrupt something?”

“No,” he assures you. “I got everything important down. You were right on time.” His fingers are drumming on your thigh like there’s still something on his mind, but you’re feeling greedy tonight, so you let it slide.

“Apparently, I was late.” His hair is cold when you ruffle it. “Let me dry your hair. You still have schedules to make it to, can’t get sick.”

Under the gentle whirr of the expensive hair dryer and your hands in his soft locks, you coax out some of the details of the night from him. Stuff those production company jerks would never get to hear, wouldn’t think to ask about. How he was so glad to never have to wear one of his costumes ever again. The way he didn’t even feel the heat of the stage lights, the thing that drenched him in sweat (aside from the jumping and running around) was nerves. You laugh when he tells you about the girl in the pit who danced so hard the veil of her wedding dress outfit ended up on one of the lights. Your heart swells, swells, swells.

There’s still a restlessness about him when you’re done. You suggest he goes back to his desk but he shakes his head. “Let’s go to bed.” The first time in ages you can do so without the weight of anticipation and stress over him – hopefully it will settle whatever is making him twitchy.

There’s a spark of arousal in your belly when you feel his eyes on your backside as you change into your pyjamas. A breath stutters out of your mouth when you meet his sleepy gaze, getting a soft smirk in response. “Come here,” he says softly. “I missed you.”

In your eagerness to get to him, you collide with the bed a little too fast. “Oof,” you huff, making him laugh. He sits up to haul you into his side, another surprised noise leaving your mouth.

“Dummy,” he teases. “Not even safe in a cushy hotel room.” You kick at his shin.

“Quit giving me bedroom eyes then.” You see his eyes sparkle and mouth start to open and smack a hand over it. “Yes, we are in a bedroom, ha ha, you are very funny.”

He moves your hand away, unimpressed. “It is a funny joke,” he grumbles. Truly funny thing is, if he’d said it, you would’ve laughed. You’re down horrendously and he knows it, although you do your best to keep his ego in check at least some of the time.

Giggling anyway, you let him press you closer to his chest. You especially love him like this, warm and soft and silly and all to yourself.

Yoongi turns over onto his good shoulder to face you, tipping your chin up. His gaze flits across your face, tender and deep, like he can see everything you’re thinking. You hope he can. You think he does. “I love you,” he murmurs, and he kisses you.

Your eyes flutter closed, relishing in this closeness. The way his mouth moves over yours, slow and deliberate.

This isn’t a kiss just because, or goodnight or I’ll be right back, this is a kiss because I want to be touching you. I want to breathe you in. I want to forget everything but you.

You let out a sigh. Yoongi hums against you, a rumble you feel in his chest, and slides his tongue to meet yours. He shifts some more so he’s over you, braced on his forearm. It’s urgent now, but the way he licks into your mouth is languid, a creeping heat.

He knows just how you like it, just how to drive you wild. Where you push and pull and grasp at him, he slows you, pins you down, makes you feel every second like it’s an hour.

When he pulls away, panting slightly, you realize – it’s been a long time. The last time the two of you had had a chance to get horizontal (or otherwise) had been the week you left Korea. More than a month ago. No wonder you’re so desperate for him, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him back in, feeling his smug little grin against your mouth.

He grabs at your hip with his other hand, and just that contact, his hand deliberate against the bare skin between your shirt and pyjama shorts, is enough to have you gasping.

He pulls away again with a low chuckle. “I’ve been neglecting you, my love,” he noses against your jaw. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver.

“You’ve been such a good wife,” he continues, sitting back on his heels, raking his gaze over you. His tone is soft but his eyes are so, so hungry. You reach for him, desperate to be back under his body, but he just smiles, closed mouth and innocent. “Shh, let your husband take care of you.”

He climbs back over you, settles his weight on you like he knows you like and hovers an inch from your face. His hair, longer again, hangs in his eyes, but you can see the mischievous shine in them. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Yoongi,” you whine. His smile grows even bigger, but before you can crush your lips to his he leans down and kisses you, slow and searing again.

“I’ll make you feel good,” he promises, mouthing down your neck. You know he’s going to leave marks, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It’s been so long since you’ve felt properly like his. “Smell so sweet,” he sighs, opening the top button of your sleep shirt and burying his face between your tits. “Sweet, sweet girl.”

You moan, sensitive from his touch. “You’re –” he nips at you, drawing more breathy noises from your mouth. “You’re unusually talkative tonight.”

He smiles up at you. “You like it,” he says simply. And you do. You want him to keep telling you how you look and feel to him, what he’s going to do to you.

You start to fall apart under his mouth, his hands, his words. Soon your shirt is gone, tits shiny with his saliva. “Your fucking tongue,” you grab his hair, hold him in place, and his groan against your skin makes your sensitive nipples shoot fireworks into your brain. He presses your tits together tighter, sucking them noisily in turn as you grind up against his hardening cock.

“Taste fucking perfect,” his voice is so deep. Your pussy is already clenching, desperate for him.

Yoongi helps you out of your pyjama shorts, wanting you completely bare to him. “Need to see you, jagi.” He settles between your legs, settled over his shoulders. His warm mouth over your cunt has you spreading them wider, eager.

“That’s my girl,” he rumbles approvingly, expecting the ensuing flood from your pussy. He uses two of his long, callused fingers to spread it all over, sliding almost coincidentally over your clit. Your hips cant towards his hand, wanting more than anything to have them inside you – fuck. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Yoongi, please,” you choke. It’s getting nearly unbearable, this desperation. You’re so wet, so sensitive, your entrance clenching around nothing.

“Pretty, pretty,” he says in a soft rasp, talking to himself. He gets comfortable between your legs and you can see his sharp, dark eyes zero in on your cunt, tongue wetting his lips like someone’s set a meal in front of him. You suppose you have.

“Ahhh-hhhh,” you moan, the first broad sweep of his tongue over your folds like electricity. Like he’d just set a firecracker off inside of you – buzzing and sparking from the tips of your toes to your scalp. Eyes squeezed shut, a broken noise comes out of your mouth.

He keeps going, lapping at your pussy in an even rhythm and making low sounds of appreciation. It’s so, so wet you’re sure he must be drooling, and the thought is enough to have you clenching your legs together. “Careful, baby,” he says against your skin, but the vibrations of his voice are just fuel to the fire. “Watch me.”

You lean up shakily on your elbows, and the sight of him is nearly enough to knock you back down again. The mop of dark hair between your legs, working away as though you’re barely there, like he’s just using this to get himself off – except his eyes, watching you under the harsh slant of his eyebrows – shit shit it’s almost too much already.

“Fuck, baby, please,” you plead breathily, not even sure what you’re asking for. He’s already giving you everything you want. The close of his pouted lips around your clit has you jerking, the fiery crackle in your nerves making everything hazy except the places he’s touching you – big hands clamped around your thighs, face buried in your cunt, fingers pressed into the meat of your ass. He’d taken off the rest of his rings, but you can feel his wedding band pinching your skin slightly. Your matching one catches the light as you twist your hand into the sheets. “I need – I nee –” you break off, keening when he rubs a finger over your hole.

“Don’t worry, love,” he slides a digit in, feeling the way you clench around it desperately. “I know what my girl needs.” On the next stroke, he slides in a second finger, groaning when you clamp down on him. You collapse back onto the pillows, hips kicking up despite the way he’s pressing you into the mattress

You’d teased him mercilessly, way back when the two of you had started dating. “Tongue technology, huh? Do you have any songs where you’re not bragging about how good you eat pussy?” He’d only smiled, smug and amused, like he knew something you didn’t.

Boy, did you find out. Again, and again, and again. The way he flicks his tongue over your clit, a fast, even tempo that has you curling your toes. Combined with how fast he’s pumping those long fingers in you, the squelching sounds absolutely obscene.

“Another?” he asks, voice almost disinterested, betrayed only by how hoarse and low it’s become. You nod frantically, knowing you’re close.

When he adds his ring finger, you know you’re done for. There’s a searing heat all down your body — your belly’s tight, your feet digging into Yoongi’s back with how tightly you have them tensed. Your face is flushed and sweaty and you can barely hear your own breathy whining through the rushing in your ears. It’s building, the wet slick of his tongue joining his fingers as your legs start to tremble around him, threatening to squeeze his neck, your hands finding their way into his hair to bring him with you when your back arches off the bed, and when he sucks your clit back between his lips —

“That’s it, fuck, baby,” he growls against you. He pumps you through your orgasm, almost struggling to get deep because of the way you’re gripped tight around them. Lets the gush of come slick his tongue further, shaking his head side to side as you ride out your aftershocks. You grind against his face, stuttering as the oversensitivity kicks in, whining when it becomes too much.

“N’more,” you slur, gasping when Yoongi eases out of you. He sits back on his heels again, his mouth, nose, and chin shiny from the way you’ve drenched him.

He seems content to let it sit as he meets your eyes, popping his used fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling back and groaning at the taste. “Pussy monster,” you sigh deliriously.

He laughs, having sucked his fingers clean. Pushing yourself up to lean back against the headboard, you try to get your bearings. Your legs are shaking a little and between them is still sensitive, but away from Yoongi the cold air of the hotel room makes your nipples tighten and you want more.

Your husband focuses his attention back on you. Your legs, open just enough so he can see the mess he’s made of you, and the way your skin is flushed, from your face all the way down to your chest. You shiver.

“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks in a low growl. He pulls his shirt off and wipes his face with it, giving you an uninterrupted moment to ogle him. His broad shoulders, defined chest and arms, and toned stomach. The tattoo on his pec. The dusting of hair leading from his belly button down, down, down…

“Warm me up,” you say coquettishly, spreading your legs further.

“Fuck,” he whispers, reverent. Even after all these years, you have the exact same effect on him as the first time. It’s evident in the bulge in his pyjama pants that you eye hungrily. He wraps a hand around each of your ankles, pushing them up to bend your knees, crawling up so he can settle against you and lock your legs around his waist.

You let out a pathetic little sound at the feeling of him against your cunt. You’re still leaking, juices sticking to the insides of your thighs and probably leaving a patch on his pants. “Baby,�� you whine. He leans down to kiss you and the grind of his cock against you has you gasping. “Need it,” you whisper into his mouth. “How do you want me?”

Yoongi kisses you one more time, chaste, and shakes his head. “How does my sweet girl want it?”

You flush even warmer. “Like this,” you say shyly. Yoongi smiles at you, fucked out and endeared.

Your hands find their way to his sweaty skin like magnets. Shaky fingertips tracing from his hips up over the flat of his stomach, hard muscles twitching as he sighs under your touch. When you reach his chest, you look up at him from under your lashes – he’s already looking back at you, pretty mouth agape. “The abs are new. I like them.” Then you scratch your blunt nails down them, feeling the muscles jump under your hands.

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning into you. You gasp at the twitch of his cock, the head rubbing your clit. “You’re in for it now.”

“Then fucking give it to me.”

He kisses you again, and he’s just so predictable. Despite his big talk and the way he’s pinning your hips down hard, he takes his time, opening you up to him. Your husband kisses like he drinks – slow and savoury, loves the taste of you, the way you make him feel dazed and light. Letting out little satisfied noises in response to the way you kiss him back, the way you let him have his way with you. If it were up to him, he’d work you up like this for hours. Drinking you in.

Unfortunately for him, you’re worked up enough. He’s grinding into you in tiny movements but the sensitivity from your prior orgasm, the insistent press of his cock between your lips, and the knowledge that you haven’t had him inside you in probably the longest stretch of time since you’d met is driving you insane.

“Take off your fucking pants, Yoongi,” you snap against his mouth, pulling at his waistband. He just laughs. “If you don’t fuck me right now –”

He keeps laughing, breathless and fond, but tips away from you enough to get his pyjama bottoms off and kicked away and hell yeah.

He runs his fingers through your folds and you gasp. Your hips cant up towards his hand but it’s gone immediately, and the sight of him jacking his cock with your wetness makes you whimper.

“So wet,” he murmurs, guiding the head to your pussy. The previous teasing mirth has vanished and there’s only the dark, focused look as he presses forward and – “Fuck.”

“Yoongi!” you cry out. His fingers hadn’t done nearly a good enough job of stretching you. The burn of him as he pushes into you makes your eyes roll back as you feel him pepper kisses over your cheek, down your neck to your collarbone. “Oh –”

“I must be out of my fucking mind,” he grunts, bottoming out. You choke on a sob. His big hand kneads your tit and it feels so fucking good you think you’re going to lose your mind. “How did I go without this for so long?”

He pulls out almost all the way then thrusts back in hard. “Y-Yoon – “ you whine breathily, barely able to make a sound at this point.

“My gorgeous wife, in this bed every night, so needy. This perfect pussy — shit.” He sucks the other nipple into his mouth, buried in you so deep you can’t think of anything but the way he’s filling you so good. The way you hadn’t realized you’d needed.

You’re blubbering at this point, beyond words, as Yoongi chases his orgasm inside you. Kissing every part of you he can reach as the sound of his skin against yours fills the room, playing with your tits the way that drives you wild. You come again with a shout, tears streaming down your face.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, kissing the tears away. He’s still going, deeper now instead of fast. “Can you give me one more, love?”

You’re dizzy with pleasure and overstimulation, but he loves to come with your pussy squeezing him. “Yeah,” you pant. A kiss, slow and deep, as he pushes back in.

Your legs are wrapped so tightly around his waist he can barely pull all the way back out. All you can do is hold on as he takes what he wants from you.

“Shit, shit,” Yoongi groans, hips stuttering. He’s close. “Love you, pretty girl, so fucking good to me,” his voice low and raspy and warm right next to your ear. “Do I make you feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you manage to get out and you can feel his cock throb inside you, rubbing your g-spot and it’s enough. Your vision goes white and you see stars as your entire body tenses up and you tremble all over when it suddenly releases. “Yoongi!”

“Fuuuck,” he grunts. “Squeeze me just like that,” and he’s coming too.

You lay there, panting under Yoongi as he softens inside you. The sweat makes you stick together where you’re touching, and anywhere outside your bed it would make you push him away. But you’re content to lie under him, soft, laboured breaths puffing next to your ear.

“Should’ve used a condom,” you say hoarsely. There’s going to be a mess when he pulls out, you can already feel it.

“Fucking raw used to be so hot,” he sighs, kissing your cheek. “Now it’s a chore.”

Your snort turns into a gasp as he pulls out. Reaching for his discarded shirt, he cleans up as much of his come as he can. You watch him, eyes zeroed in on the mess, licking his lips.

“Reel it in.” You boop his nose and he scrunches it. “I really cannot go another round. You’re gonna have to drag me to the bathroom.”

--------------- xxx ---------------

And he kind of does. On a good day, he could definitely carry you. But after three weeks of touring and a semi-vigorous round of sex, he hitches you onto his back in some semblance of a piggyback. You actually could probably walk, but you know the mood Yoongi’s in.

He lets you pee, then comes to clean you up the rest of the way. Both of you wrapped in fluffy robes, he washes the sweat and tears off your face gently, brushes through your hair with his fingers. Puts up with your halfhearted whining about expensive skincare as he pats it carefully back onto your face.

By the time you’ve dragged yourselves back to bed, the California King large enough that you don’t worry about the mess you’ve made on the other side, all the tension has drained from his body. The frantic energy of performing in a foreign country alone for the first time, melted away.

He’s soft and sleepy when he hitches your leg over his hip, pulls your head onto his chest. “Thank you,” he mumbles. You don’t have to ask him what he means.

You laugh softly. “Silly,” you say, drifting off.

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

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leonstoenailunderhisbed · 2 months

Note

Can you do a damsel in distress reader with maybeee re4r Leon? Need to be saved by this man🙏🏼

OH I LOVE THIS🤭

Summary: RER4 Leon saves reader from when they got captured by the monks in the castle. (Sticking to the game lore bc I love the concept of it) so basically, you’re Ashley.

Warning: reader is gender neutral, short, no smut, no angst, just vibes. SFW.

A/N: imma clean up my account😔 I feel like I can be more aesthetic but lowkey I like how silly my acc already looks

Leon had told you to run so you did. How did this even happen? Leon had led you two out of the maze and into the long decorated hallways on the castle. Then proceeded to lead the two of your further into the castle until a group of zealots, or monks, began to surround you two, screaming phrases in Spanish like “agarradlo!”

“Quick! Get behind me!” He yelled to you as he put his hand out to cover you and push you back. He took out his gun and began to shoot left and right.

When you first encountered Leon, he had told you to duck down whenever he shoots so he wouldn’t accidentally shoot you. And trying to survive, you listened to him. Every time he would point his gun and you were in front of him, he would yell “Y/n get down!”

So it was really unexpected when a monk, tall with its black robes covering its entire body- including the face and head- took hold of your waist and hoisted you up to its shoulder. You screamed in defiance and tried to break free from the monk’s grasp but to no avail. Leon had been too busy shooting the zealots that had weapons and were ready to plunge at him.

“Leon!”

It wasn’t until he heard your voice that something flipped in him. His head turned towards your direction so fast, his neck pained but he didn’t care. He saw the way the monk had captured you and began to take you away and he couldn’t let that happen- not when he promised you that he would bring you back home. He shot the zealots left and right, mostly trying to aim for the head but often times he’d use his combat knife too.

Blood splattered across his skin as he killed those who tried to stop him from rescuing you. He dashed through the dimly lit hallway and shot the zealot that had been holding you hostage.

He didn’t aim for the head as he didn’t want to accidentally hurt you, instead he aimed for the monk’s knee and shot. The monk fell to one knee but still held a strong grip around you. Leon ran up to the zealot and kicked its head with his foot. His strength was like no other. The zealot recoiled to the floor and let go of you. You fell to the floor with a small thud as you closed your eyes tightly in fear.

Leon walked up to the cultist now laying on the floor and with a swift motion he took out his combat knife and stabbed its neck. Blood seeping through its neck and towards the knife as the life began to leave the zealot. Leon sighed in relief before he stood up and walked over to check on you. He crouched down to his knees and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, “You okay?” He asked in his deep voice. A voice that was full of concern but determination.

You slowly sat up and nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine.” But you weren’t fine. You hated this situation more than anything, you don’t even know how you ended up in Spain. Right in the middle of nowhere. It seems as if bad luck always has had a way of finding you. All you wanted to do was to go home.

Leon was no fool, he knew. But he didn’t press on it. You were strong, although you didn’t believe him. He put his hands around your arms and gently pulled up from the ground, “Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice was a little bit quieter and softer, as if he knew the real answer already. But you, stubborn as you are, nodded your head and decided to just keep moving, “Yeah, I’m okay. We should get moving,” Leon nodded and began to lead you two further down the castle.

You couldn’t help but feel like he really is your knight in shining armor, always coming to help when you need it. He looked at you with soft eyes every time he saved you, eyes full of care and worry. He cares for you.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #id leon kennedy #leon kennedy angst #re4r leon #re2r leon #resident evil angst #re4 leon #re2 leon #di leon #leon kennedy headcanons

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withabroken-heart · 15 days

Text

I’M STARTING TO COME UNDONE

chuuya x f! reader

smut, angst, themes of alcohol, oral (fem receiving), spanking, hair pulling, themes of a toxic relationship

minors DNI (ageless blogs will be blocked)

your love with chuuya is like a drug. harmful, painful, and something you always come back to.

a/n: 5sos is weird for me bc my ex introduced me to them so it’s bittersweet when i listen to them. but i love their music and this song so wtvr <3

a/n: taking a break from all the swift fics lol

why do we go to things we know are bad for us?

chuuya knew his drinking was bad for him. he knew he relied on alcohol too much, needing more and more to get him through his darkest days. the drinks were both his salvation and greatest enemy; but he was a man of the mafia. he had seen the darkest dark, the most evil of the world. if a couple shots of tequila, two glasses of wine, and a double shot of whiskey could take the weight away for even a moment, then fuck it.

chuuya was like your alcohol.

he hurt you, hurt you heart like a liquid poison being absorbed by your body. but like an addiction, you kept crawling back- and kept hating yourself for it. you kept coming back if it meant savouring a second of bliss before being tormented for an eternity. being involved in the mafia was miserable. having an ability felt like a curse. and every day, you walked through the nights bestowed upon by your life of crime. chuuya was your light. a burning, sickishly green light that made you sick.

chuuya used substances, and chuuya was your substance.

tonight was no exception.

“you’re so bad for me.” you stated out between kisses, almost as if pressing your lips to his would prevent you from speaking the whole truth. it was the truth, and chuuya knew it. but right now he only cared about making out with you, not about how horrible it would be in the long run. “you’re gonna make me regret this.”

“fuck, i know.” chuuya hissed while his lips moved down to your neck, sucking dark red hickeys onto your delicate skin. his gloved hands eagerly teared away your dress, pressing you down onto the bed. he found his way in between your legs, his hips grinding against you eagerly. your hands flew to the back of his head, running through the ginger locks as he went down on you. “just shut up and let me fuck you.”

chuuya trailed hot, possessive kisses down your body, nipping at your tender flesh. a deep groan rumbled in his chest as he reached your already glistening clit, his tongue darting out to tease yout sensitive folds. you waste no time moaning in response, a buzzing feeling in your chest travelling down to in-between your thighs. he gripped your already trembling thighs over his shoulders, burying his face deeper between your legs. his skilled tongue your sensitive spots well, and he left no part of you untouched.

chuuya lapped and sucked with a relentless hunger, tightening his grip on your thighs like he was a starved man. he let out a satisfied moan as he felt your legs shake, tongue flicking at you and eliciting more desperate cries from you. your mind grew heavy with euphoria, your orgasm bound to wash over you at any moment like a tsunami. you writhed in the sheets, but you knew chuuya- you knew he wasn’t just going to let you have it.

“f-fuck, don’t stop..” you breathlessly begged as chuuya climbed on top of you. he took your wrists and pinned them beside your head, admiring the way your half-lidded eyes and your hair sprawled out on the pillow. your arousal dripped from chuuya’s lips, and his blue eyes looked ready to ravish you further. you felt his the tip of his throbbing cock press against your clit, and you whined. you could already feel yourself clenching around him. nothing mattered now, the only thing you cared about was chuuya fucking you so good everyone knew what you were doing. the feeling of pleasure was so much better than the reality of your relationship.

he wasted no time pushing his cock into you, biting down on your shoulder as he felt your tight, wet walls constrict around his length. he slammed his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt of your tight heat. you felt your fingers shiver with nothing to grab onto, chuuya making sure to keep you restricted. chuuya grimaced as you screamed his name like a choir, his hips crashing against your body with animalistic fervor. a desperate gleam shone in his eyes as he watched your face contort in a mix of ecstasy and pleasure.

“f-fuck, you feel so good around my cock like that baby.. fuck! yeah, just like that.” chuuya released punishing grip from your hands to move down to your thighs, landing a few punishing spanks to your ass as he fucked up. you threw your head back, screaming as the sting manifested itself as pleasure. your mind and body were buzzing, watching as chuuya’s cock disappeared into your heat over and over again. he fit in your perfectly, nothing else could feel like this.

you were unable to speak, but chuuya wasn’t going to ask you anyway. he grabbed you by the hair, flipping you over onto your stomach. your mind too blank to protest, you felt as he grabbed your hips and pulled it upwards, positioning his cock back inside of you. he pressed your face into the pillow, muffling your screams as he continued to fuck you from a new angle. his hips snapped forward in a brutal, relentless rhythm, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the room.

chuuya continued to unleash a series of sharp, stinging slaps against your round, exposed ass. the sound of skin striking skin mingled with your desperate cries muffled into the pillow. he leaned down, whispering something incoherent in your ear. your eyes rolled to the back of your head in pure euphoria, ready to cum around his cock at any moment.

“oh, fuck.” chuuya moaned.

he felt his climax approaching. with a few more savage thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt and unleashed his hot, pulsing release deep within your quivering depths. a breathless, triumphant smirk crossed his lips as he savored the feeling of their body clenching around him, watching as his and your cum dripped out of you. you continued to shake, clenching around nothing as chuuya slowly pulled out of you.

he fell to your side, pulling you in closer to him. the shackles of your orgasm still weighed you down, barely able to speak. but what could you say?

your heavy eyes looked up at chuuya’s face. though there were remnants of pleasure, what remained was pain. he’d be gone by the morning.

you felt him wrap his arms around your waist, kissing your head as you began to drift off. the morning after always felt like a stab in the gut. knowing that he was going to break you all over again burned in your heart.

but you’d always come back. and he’d wait with open arms.

133 notes · View notes

morgana-larkin · 1 month

Note

hi, I think I have a crazy and [loooong] prompt baskdjskkaka. From Melissa's line 'no women? nobody else?ever?'

The staff is reminiscing the little bickering a year ago or two about Janine's love life, only then the staff realize what has Mel said, that she's like into women too. Barb knows tho and Mr. J because ofc he knows everything what has happened in those hallways. So Ava, Janine and Jacob being themselves + Greg surprisingly, began to interrogate Mel about it and in some point she got tired of the constant questioning so she just admitted that she had a relationship with a woman before, particularly a teacher too at Abbott few years before the new teaching staff and principal arrived at the said school. She goes to describe the woman with a little smile on her face without realizing it, did not mention what happened saying they should take what she offers about her private life,the truth is, she still feel guilty of what has happened realizing she's wrong and it's too late. At that, she thought the staff will finally leave her alone but no, since she's single again after the failed proposal, they're like encouraging her to date and maybe try again with a woman. Ofc she declines, then one day Ava burst into the break room grinning, saying a new member of the district is around to help the school, but the top of the icing, as she quote, is she had finally found a match for Melissa not knowing who's r really is, then introduces r to the crew. And man, best believe Melissa almost threw herself out of the window when she sees the very woman she had a relationship before and apparently who she had managed to hurt that still haunts her at night, r is no different from the redhead as she is aslo shocked to see the woman, still there and stunning as ever, because last time they saw each other, the woman cursed that she doesn't think she can stay in a place where she knows r had lingered or stepped a foot with. So basically it's the queue for r to left Philly and never go back, but she's God's favorite and he decided to send her back to the very place she avoids the most. [The breakup is ugly, as it is a big misunderstanding, the redhead saw the other woman kissing, or rather being kissed by a man, against her will which she doesn't know since she became real irrational that point and didn't even listen to the plea of the other woman]

And bc of the weird and awkward reactions + interactions from the two women when they're in a room together, the staff slowly put 2 and 2 together that the new district member that has been sent to the school is the very woman who Mel had a past with.

That is so long I'm so sorry, I just need to let it all out or else I'm gonna combust

Anon it’s perfectly alright, let it all out. This took me so much longer to write and it’s just under 5,000 words😅. There’s so much fucking angst and as someone who hates seeing Melissa upset, I was literally glaring at myself for writing that Melissa is going through it. So I hope you enjoy it! As always not edited in the slightest!

As a side note I wanted to thank @janeyseymour for helping me out, I had no idea what former teachers do at all and she let me know a bunch of them!

Want You Back

Warnings: swearing, Melissa crying, smut

Words: 4.95k

“No women? Nobody else? Ever?” Melissa said 2 years ago.

“Wait, what did Melissa mean by that?” Janine asked Gregory and Jacob one day when they were walking into work and talking about the conversation they had in the library a couple years ago.

“I don’t know, but it is weird that her first instinct was to immediately ask about women first instead of men.” Jacob says, contributing to the conversation.

“Do I even want to know what you nerds are talking about?” Ava asked them.

“It’s about Melissa, from something she said 2 years ago.” Gregory said and Ava looked at them.

“Melissa has said a lot of things 2 years ago.” Ava said.

“It’s when we were in the library and I said that I’ve been dating my boyfriend since 8th grade and you all questioned it and Melissa said ‘no women’.” Janine explained to Ava and this caught her interest.

“Oh ya, I remember that. I say we question her.” Ava said but the trio stopped her.

“No, this is Melissa we’re talking about. She won’t tell us something about her life so easily.” Janine says.

“Good point, we could annoy her until she gives in.” Ava suggested.

“Maybe another plan where we don’t put our lives at risk.” Jacob says.

“Oh come on. Melissa likes us too much now to kill us.” Ava says proudly and they all look at her like she hit her head. “I did say now, 2 years ago she definitely would have killed us.”

“That’s true, but we can’t ask her multiple times in one go, it’ll have to be a couple to a few times a day.” Jacob says.

“Ok let’s start now.” Ava says, excited about this plan and heads towards the break room. Ava enters, drawing attention as usual with the trio in tow behind her. “Melissa, question.” Ava asks as she pours some coffee in a mug. Melissa glances up at her from her phone.

“What do you want Coleman?” Melissa asks and looks back to her phone, typing something.

Ava smiles at her as she pours an unnecessary amount of sugar in her coffee. “Have you ever dated a woman?” Ava asks and Melissa freezes.

She looks up from her phone, “what?” She asks.

“Have you ever dated a woman?” Ava repeats. Melissa looks at her and sees the trio looking at her waiting for a reply.

“It’s none of youse business who I have or haven’t dated.” She says and goes back to her phone.

The trio and Ava look at each other and smile a little. They have a feeling that Melissa actually might have dated a woman due to her freezing.

*At lunch*

“So you have dated a woman haven’t you?” Janine asks her at her table.

“I thought I told you this morning it’s none of your business.” She glares at her. Janine gets the hint and goes to her own table.

*after school*

“Melissa, we just want to know if you’ve dated a woman before.” Jacob tells her as they all leave the building together.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” Melissa asks them, annoyed.

“Because you never tell us anything about you.” Janine says.

“Ya we just want to get to know you better.” Gregory says.

Melissa rolls her eyes. “What brought this up all of a sudden?” She asks them.

“Well remember when Janine made us play that annoying game and write something about ourselves on a card and then we guess who it was.” Ava asks, earning a ‘heeeey’ from Janine for calling her game annoying.

“Vaguely.” Melissa says, very short with them right now.

“Well, after Janine said he’s only ever dated one guy since grade 8, your immediate response was ‘no women?’.” Ava says and Melissa looks at them.

Melissa then proceeds to walk to her car. “Like I said , none of youse business.” She says and reaches her car and turns to look at them. “So stop asking.” She says and gets in her car.

*the next morning*

The trio keep glancing over at Melissa. They want to ask but wondering if it’ll be dangerous to ask her.

“I feel you guys looking at me.” Melissa says looking at her phone, unimpressed by them. And at that Ava comes in.

“We just want to know the answer.” Jacob tells her.

Melissa sighs and turns around and glares at them. “Ok fine. Yes, I’ve dated a woman before, last one was a few years ago before youse started working here.” She told them and they all beam.

“Omg this is so exciting!” Janine squeals.

“I can’t believe you never told us you were bisexual.” Jacob says.

“What was she like?” Gregory says, and they all look at him then back to Melissa.

Melissa immediately starts thinking about you and she smiles. “She was a teacher here, she taught 3rd grade and left 4 years before you guys started.” She says pointing to Janine, Jacob and Ava. “She was beautiful and smart and brave. She was funny and sarcastic as well and able to keep up with my wit.” Melissa continues. And they all listen as Melissa describes you. And unknown to Melissa, she was smiling the entire time. The only thing Melissa refused to say was your name and why you broke up.

“Why don’t you want to say her name or why you broke up?” Ava says.

“How about youse people take what I give about my life and shut it.” Melissa says and turns back around to go on her phone. Barb looks at her concerned. Of course she knows what happened since she was there and knows how guilty Melissa feels about how it ended.

“Have you ever thought about dating again, specifically a woman?” Jacob says.

Melissa turns to look at him. “No, I’m not going through it again.” She says with a slight voice crack.

Of course none of them listen to her and keep on the lookout for a woman that’s Melissa’s type. And then one day, Ava does. She bursts into the break room, full grin on her face and immediately looks at Melissa then back to the full group, she thinks she found a match for Melissa. Melissa gets up to get herself a coffee and pours it into her mug.

“Hey nerds listen up! The school district sent us a vice principal to help out around the school and they’re paying for it.”

“Really?” Janine says.

“Yep, oh here she comes.” Ava says “and her name is y/n y/l/n.” She says as you enter.

Before anyone can say anything, the sound of a mug breaking is heard near the coffee machine. They all turn to see Melissa with her hand out, as she just dropped her favourite coffee mug full of coffee and it broke on the floor. She’s standing there looking at the new woman who entered in complete shock, completely unaware that she just dropped her mug. They all look towards you who’s looking at Melissa with an expression that can mirror Melissa’s.

“Melissa, r u ok?” Jacob says, and Melissa glances at him briefly before looking down at the floor.

“Uh, u-um y-ya ya, I’m fine, I’m just gonna let Mr Johnson know about the mess.” Melissa says and books it out of the room. A minute later Mr. Johnson appears and sees you , then shakes his head, muttering ‘this will be interesting’.

They all introduce themselves to you , except for Barb. Once the trio and Ava leave, you look at Barb then at your feet, not knowing what to say to her.

“It’s nice to see you again dear.” Barb says and you look up at her.

“I had no idea that Melissa was still working here. I also didn’t really have a choice, the district sent me saying this school needs a vice principal and I needed a job.” You tell her.

“It’s alright, I understand.” Is all she says.

“I-I’ll avoid Melissa as much as possible while I’m here, to avoid any drama as I’m sure she’ll do with me. So you don’t have to worry about that.” You tell her then leave.

After that Barb leaves the break room and goes to check on Melissa. And sure enough, just like she thought, Melissa is having a full on crisis in her classroom. Melissa is at her desk writing something harshly, then gets angry at her pen for not working properly then throws it across the room.

“You’re handling it better than I thought.” Barb says after she sees Melissa throw the pen. Melissa whips her head at Barb and looks at her with anger in her eyes that quickly turns to tears. Barb immediately goes and comforts her the best she could.

“I can’t believe after all these years, she’s here again.” Melissa says, crying into Barb’s shoulder during a hug.

“I know dear, I know.” Barb says, patting her back.

“I thought I’d never see her again, after 6 years I still feel guilty about what happened.” Melissa says, still crying.

*6 years ago*

You and Melissa were at a club, drinking. Celebrating the end of another school year.

“Hey Amore, can you go get us some more drinks?” Melissa asks you, as she got the previous ones.

“Of course beautiful.” You tell her and give her a quick kiss on the lips with a smile. You then get up and go to the bar to get some drinks. You order a drink for you and Melissa’s favourite drink, then a man comes up next to you as you're waiting, and starts chatting you up.

“Hey there pretty lady.” He says and you glance at him and sigh, you just ignore him.

After your drinks are done, the guy is still trying to talk to you. Before you can reach for your drinks, he gets up and goes behind you and kisses you, blocking any possible exit. The guy is twice your side, you try pushing him off but he wouldn’t budge.

Melissa is wondering what’s taking you so long as it’s been 5 minutes. She gets up and goes to the bar and sees you with a man’s tongue down your throat, pressed up against the bar and Melissa sees red. As soon as the guy gets away from you, you see Melissa standing there about 10 feet away, looking pissed. Melissa stomps over to you, grabs your wrist and drags you out of the club.

“WHAT THE HELL Y/N!!! WHY WERE YOU KISSING HIM!” She yells at you and you’re taken aback.

“Did you think I wanted him to kiss me?” You ask.

“Well it sure as hell didn’t look like you weren’t enjoying it!!!” She yells at you.

“Melissa I didn’t…” You try to explain what happened but she cuts you off.

“I don’t fucking care what lame ass excuse you’re about to give!!! I want you and your shit out of my house and nowhere near me again!!! In fact!! Why don’t you leave the fucking city! I don’t want to see you and your cheating face ever again!!!” She yells at you and then turns around to go to her car. You run up and grab her arm to try and get her to listen to you. She shoves your hand off of her and you try again. “Let go of my y/n!” She tries to shove your hand off of her again but you hold on.

“Please Melissa! Just listen to me!” You tell her with tears in your eyes. “He kissed me! I didn’t…” she doesn’t want to listen to you anymore and pushes you off of her and you stumble and fall back on the ground. You look at her full of hurt and tears. She just turns back around and walks to her car and drives away.

You end up staying at a friend's house for a few weeks. You end up telling the principal of Abbott Elementary that you quit and won’t be coming back, you get all your stuff from Melissa’s house when she told you she won’t be there so you can come pick it up. And after 2 months, you end up finding a place out of Philly and get a job at the school district. You feel hurt and abandoned by Melissa. Your friend told you to forget about her if she wasn’t willing to listen to what happened and fight for you. You left a note at her place, explaining what happened at the bar as she blocked your number after telling you when she won’t be there for a whole weekend to come get your stuff. You left her place with your things, completely heartbroken, you thought Melissa would be it for you but you guess you were wrong

Melissa on the other end wasn’t any better, when she got back from her weekend trip, she saw your note and read it. Full of tears in her eyes as she realised her mistake. She immediately unblocks your number and a bunch of messages you tried to send her appear. She read them all, she wanted to send you a message, saying she got your note and wanted to talk, and then she saw your last message.

You: I know you won’t get this Melissa but I’m really sorry about what happened. I’ll be changing my number today and moving out of Philly soon so you won’t see or hear from me again. Love, y/n.

She saw that the message was sent yesterday, she was too late. She has no idea where you are and no way of contacting you.

*back to present day*

“Melissa, what if this is your chance to fix that mistake?” Barb says. “You told me that if you got a chance to apologise then you would take it.”

“It’s been 6 years Barb, she’s probably moved on and doesn’t care about me anymore.” She tells her. Barb doesn’t push her anymore, knowing she needs time and space right now.

At lunch time, you finish talking to Janine in the break room and go to leave. At the same time Melissa is coming in and you walk into each other. You both stare at each other for a few seconds, not knowing what to do or say. You then walk around her and leave the break room. Melissa stands there for a few more seconds in shock. She then looks over at everyone and they’re staring at her confused about what just happened. Melissa doesn’t say anything, she just gets her lunch and eats in silence.

The second period after lunch, Melissa has a prep period as her kids are in art class. She’s marking some tests when you knock on her door. Melissa doesn’t look up as she’s finishing up marking a question.

“Just a sec.” She says.

“That’s fine, I can wait.” You say and Melissa freezes and looks up. “I’ll just sit in one of the students' chairs. I’m sure they won’t mind.” You say with a chuckle.

Melissa quickly finishes marking the question and then looks up at you. “Hi y/n” she says and you look at her.

“Hi Melissa, long time no see.” You tell her.

“Ya, 6 years.” She says, embarrassed.

“Barb told me what happened with the vending machine guy, sorry about that.” You tell her and she nods.

“Y/n was there something you wanted?” She says.

“I wanted to make sure that me being the vice principal here won’t cause any…conflicts.” You tell her.

Melissa freezes, she’s caught in between, she wants to say yes so that you’ll leave and she won’t have to feel guilty every time she sees you but a bigger part of her wants to say no, she missed you and it was nice seeing your face and smile again. Melissa knows what she has to do, she can’t be selfish but she can be careful.

“No I don’t see why it would.” And you look at her and Melissa feels the need to get it over with. “I mean I moved on and you moved on, the past is the past right?” She says and if she’s honest, it hurt her to say that to you.

You were in a similar spot. It hurt to hear her say that she’s moved on from you but what would you expect. It’s been 6 years and you guys ended badly and you assumed that more than likely she didn’t read your note, probably threw it out.

“Ya, we’ll keep it professional.”

“Ya professional, exactly.” She agreed and you got up.

“Oh I’m supposed to introduce myself to all the teachers and ask if there’s anything they need.” You tell. “I got to know the principal more and while she’s nicer than the one that was here when I was a teacher, this one also doesn’t do anything.” You say and she chuckles.

“Ya I have a feeling you’ll be doing most of the principal duties as well.” She says.

“Yep, more than likely. So was there anything you need? Paper? Glue sticks? Pens?” You ask her.

“No no, I think I’m good for now but I’ll let you know if that changes.” She says and you nod.

“Alright.” You say and go to leave then turn back around. “Btw love the rugs. Am I correct to assume you had something to do with that?”

Melissa smiles and puts her index finger over her lips “shh” she says and you smile and mime zipping your mouth. After you leave , Melissa looks at the doorway and sighs. “What I need is you.” She says quietly.

Over the next month, the trio and Ava slowly start to figure it out. You and Melissa barely are in the same room together, barely speak to each other, and when you do, it’s very awkward and uncomfortable. Then they see Melissa’s face when she sees you, full of guilt and sadness. And when you see Melissa, your face is full of hurt.

“Melissa, how do you know y/n?” Janine asks Melissa after a month of watching the awkwardness.

“She’s the vice principal, so we all know her.” Melissa says to them, the trio not convinced for a second and she doesn’t even believe it herself.

“Come on Melissa, it’s obvious you knew her before she got here.” Jacob says. “I mean you’re interactions with her are awkward and tense. And when she first got here you dropped your favourite mug. I mean the only reason I would act that way is if…’’ Jacob doesn’t finish it as he put it all together and he gasps. “Omg y/n is the woman you dated!” He squeals out and Melissa whips her head around in shock since he figured it out.

“How the hell did you figure it out!” Melissa says and immediately her eyes go wide and covers her mouth with her hand for accidentally confirming what he said.

“So wait he’s right? She’s the one you told us about?” Janine says and Melissa rubs her temple with her hands.

“Ok fine, yes he’s right. Y/n is the woman I dated 6 years ago. But it ended badly and I don’t want to talk about it any further.” Melissa says and then walks out of the break room.

“What’s the matter with Melissa?” Ava says as she enters. “She seems grumpier than usual, I just said hi to her and she told me to go to hell.”

“Y/n is the woman that Melissa dated 6 years ago.” Jacob says and Ava has a shocked expression.

“Omg really?” She says. “Barb, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because Ava, it’s not my secret to tell, it’s Melissa and y/n’s.” Barb says to her. “What I will tell you is Melissa feels guilty and is too afraid to apologise and y/n is too busy thinking that Melissa hates her. I’ve been trying to tell each of them to talk to each other but they’re both so stubborn.”

“Maybe we can trap them somewhere together and force them to talk to each other.” Ava suggests and they all agree, including Barb, that it’s not a bad idea.

“Ok but that requires a door that can lock from the outside and you can’t unlock it without a key from the inside.” Gregory says.

“I know just the place.” Mr Johnson says and they all turn to look at him on the other side of the room, not knowing he was there.

“You’re willing to help us with this?” Janine asks him.

“I was rooting for them 6 years ago when y/n was a teacher here.” He says and they look at him. Of course he knew, they honestly are not surprised at this point.

They put their plan into play, the next day during lunch they were gonna lock you two in the janitorial closet and Janine was gonna take Melissa’s kids with hers and go to the gym and then do a big art project in her classroom.

So when Melissa was going to get her kids, Janine asks Melissa if she could help her reach something from the Janitor closet and Mr Johnson went to ask you if you could help him with something in the closet. Melissa was grabbing the item when you walked in and then the door shut. You ran to it and tried to open it but it was locked.

“Did they just lock us in here?” You ask her. Melissa was too stunned to see you that she didn’t even realise what happened until you spoke.

“Ya I think they did.” She said.

“Why would they do that?” You ask her, annoyed.

“Probably for us to talk.” She says and you look at her.

“What is there for us to talk about? There’s absolutely nothing for us to talk about” You say and cross your arms.

“Actually there’s something. ” Melissa says and sits on one of the chairs that’s in there, while you sit on the other.

“What is it then?” You ask her and she takes a deep breath.

“6 years ago.” Is all she says but you understood.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about. You said it yourself, it’s in the past and we’ve both moved on.” You said and you look at her and she looks hurt. “What?”

“Have you really moved on?” She asked and you look at her.

“It doesn't matter, I know you moved on though. ”

“Ya a failed proposal is definitely not moving on.” she says.

“But you were in a serious enough relationship with him for him to propose.” You tell her and she looks down.

“Ya I guess so.” She gets her phone out to text Barb to come let them out and gets a reply back.

Barb: not until you talk to her.

Melissa: no, it’s too painful, please let us out.

Barb: I’m sorry Melissa but I know this was hurting you. Seeing her everyday is hurting you.

“They’re not gonna let us out anytime soon are they?” You ask her.

“I don’t think so.” She says and then looks at you. “I’m sorry.” She says.

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t lock us in here.” You say, totally missing what she was apologising for.

“That’s not what I’m apologising for.” She says and you look at her.

“Then what are you apologising for?”

“For 6 years ago, making a big mistake.”

“Wha-”

“I read your note.” She says, cutting you off. “I should have listened to you but I was just so angry that I couldn’t think.” She tells you and looks at you with guilt. “The real reason I said no to Gary is because I didn’t want to be with him because I still have feelings for you. And I felt so guilty about how I reacted and I unblocked your number when I got home after reading your note and read all the texts and I wanted to find you or contact you but I had no way of doing that.” And a few tears slip down her cheeks.

“I haven’t moved on, you know. I’ve forgiven you for that night but I haven’t gotten over you.” You say and Melissa is looking at you with wide puffy eyes. “I tried, I ended up living with a girlfriend for a year. But then she broke up with me when she wanted more and I didn’t. Said I was emotionally unavailable. Which I guess is true, you can’t develop big feelings for someone if your heart belongs to someone else.” You said and the look on Melissa’s face said it all.

“Who does your heart belong too?”

“You.” Melissa sucked in a breath. “When I saw you standing there in the break room after 6 years, I couldn’t believe it, and you still look beautiful and stunning.” She let out an airy laugh.

“You as well, you still look so damn beautiful. My heart belongs to you too.” Melissa then gets up and walks over to you and crouches next to you and holds your hand and you look down at her. “I want to be with you again, if you’ll have me.” She says and you tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and smile at her.

“Of course, I want to be with you again too.” You said and Melissa beams. Then she gets up and leans in and kisses you. After 6 years Melissa finally felt back home again, like her lips are supposed to be on yours and no one else’s. You pull back after needing to breathe and you look at Melissa who’s smiling at you.

“You know I don’t think they’ll let us out until it’s the end of the day. So we still got… 2 and a half hours.” Melissa says, looking at her phone. You then get up and make her walk backwards and get her to sit on her chair and then straddle her lap.

“I think I want to know how to spend that time.” You tell her with a smile then go to kiss her again.

Melissa kisses you back passionately with her hands in your hair and yours are on her hips. Melissa’s hands travel down your body and land on your chest. She then puts her hands under your shirt and cups your boobs and you moan into the kiss. She then moves her lips down to your neck and starts sucking on it and you gasp before placing your mouth on her shoulder to muffle your sounds. Melissa giggles at your actions before unclipping your bra and lifts your shirt so she can put her lips around your nipples. You try to move your body so you can grind her leg but Melissa keeps you where you are and you whine.

“Patience, I don’t want to waste you on my leg.” She tells you and flips you both so you’re the one on the chair and removes your pants and underwear. She then immediately dives down and licks your pussy and you cover your mouth with your arm to muffle your moan. Melissa then puts her tongue in your entrance and begins tongue fucking you and you bite down on your arm as it feels so good.

Melissa tastes you again after years and thinks of how you still taste so good. She moans and it vibrates on your entrance and you gasp. She moves her tongue out of your entrance and goes for your clit and sucks on it. You’re moaning into your arm like crazy right now as Melissa is fucking magical with her tongue.

Melissa looks at you trying your best to muffle your sounds and gets up and kisses you. While kissing you, she slips a finger into your entrance and a thumb to your clit and you clutch her hair. She slips another finger in and pushes them in and out of you quickly while rubbing your clit. It doesn’t take long until you’re shaking and Melissa knows you’re about to come.

“Go on Tesoro, come for me.” Melissa whispers into your ear and then goes right back to kissing you just in time for you to come. “As soon as they let us out of this closet, I’m taking you to my place. I’ll cook us something and then it’s to my bed. How does that sound?” Melissa asks you after removing her fingers out of you.

“I like the sound of that.” You tell her, trying to catch your breath. “I honestly miss your cooking, and your body.” You say and she smiles as she kisses you again. She helps you get dressed after kissing you and then she sits down on the floor with you curled up on her.

And that’s how the Abbott crew finds them after they go to unlock the door after the students leave. They unlock it and see you on Melissa with her hands wrapped protectively around you and they all have their mouths open in shock.

“Oh finally.” Melissa says and you get off of her and help her up. “Come on.” She tells you and grabs your hand and begins sprinting out of there and you’re both giggling.

“Was that a hickey on y/n’s neck?” Janine says and they all look at her then back at you two running out of the building.

And when the two of you get to her place, Melissa keeps her word of making a meal then spending the rest of the evening in her bed.

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#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x oc #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #x reader #fanfic

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sturniolo-simp4life · 2 months

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Can u do a Matt smut fic where reader and matt r out and matt gets a good idea to go to the car wash bc the car is dirty. And when y'all in the car wash u fuck (idk if that makes sense)

I love ur writing sm 😭😭💖

Car Wash- Matt Sturniolo

Paring- y/n and Matt Sturniolo

Warnings- Smut, semi-public (?), cursing, quickie, p in v, unprotected (don’t please, imagine you're on the pill or smth), female!recieving, slight nipple play, riding, slight fingering. NOT PROOF READ.

Description- After a long day out, Matt decides to go to a car wash, hoping for something more.

@lightningsturvn here you are my love!

After a week of recording and editing, Matt took y/n out for a stress reliever day. They went to the beach, walked along the shoreline, and even went swimming.

Unfortunately for Matt, all he could think of was y/n in that tight little bikini, wanting to rip it off and fuck her brains out.

Moving on from Matt, there were a lot of seagulls at the beach today.

Seagulls=poop. Poop=Car. Car=Matt’s Car.

“Well, it looks like my car is covered in bird shit.” Mat grumbled as the two of you stepped in, earning a giggle from you. “Babe, its fine. We can just stop at the car wash on the way home.”

Now obviously, Matt was horny. The beach dress wasn’t doing a good job of covering up your body.

He could see your pecks straining against the thin bikini fabric, and that was enough to turn him on. He could already feel his cock throbbing against his shorts.

Thats when the idea popped into his head. The car washes around your area were old, making the machines slower.

An average car wash was 5 minutes, but these ones were 10. A perfect opportunity for some relief.

“Can you do the tropical wash? Please?” you asked Matt, batting your eyelashes. You knew he hated it, but you loved it.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But you’re going to pay me back,” he said with a devious smirk, as his hand made its way to your thigh.

You found yourself getting flustered by Matt’s words, your face visible red. Flustered enough to make your bikini bottoms wet.

Fuck. His hand was sensually rubbing your thighs as he paid for the wash.

As soon as drove the car onto the platform, his finger grazed your clit, a small moan escaping your mouth.

Somehow, both of you ended up in the backseat.

Matt smashed his lips on yours and slipped his hands down to your waist.

He started leaving wet kisses around your neck a collarbone, removing your beach dress.

He then started kissing down your chest, until he ripped your bikini top off.

“I’ve been waiting to do that all day.” His tongue made it to one of your pecks, while his hand made its way to the other. “Fuck matt.”

He moved his tongue in fast, circular motions on your hardened peck, while his finger played with the other. “Be a good girl, and let's make this quick, okay.”

You moaned. “M-Matt.” He looked at you. “Hmm?”

“I need you.” He smirked at you. “What do you need baby? You have to be more specific.”

“Your fingers.” You gasped. “I need your fingers.”

“Okay baby. Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He inserted a finger into your aching hole, then two.

“Oh my god,” you gasped. He slowly started pumping his fingers in and out of you. “F-Fuck Matt. faster.”

You could feel your orgasm building on you. It must have shown on your face, because he then slipped his fingers out.

You whined. “I was just about to finish,” you pout.

“Don’t worry. Your about to get something better.” He slipped off his cargo shorts and his boxers, revealing his straining erection.

It looked so hard it must have hurt.

Even though you’d seen Matt’s dick before, it always surprised you how big he was.

The thought of him filling your aching cunt was enough to make you wet again.

He then sat against one of the doors, his legs on the seats.

“I want you to ride me baby.” You had done it before, but it wasn’t one of your most experienced positions. “O-okay,” you gulped.

You got on top of him and aligned yourself. Slowly and steadily, you lowered yourself on him, earning a grunt from him and a hiss from you.

“Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath. It took you a minute to adjust to his size, but when you started moving, the slight pain was replaced with pleasure.

“Oh fuck. Matt,” you moaned, as you bounced up and down. His hands were on your hips, guiding you.

“Oh my god Matt. Oh my god.” You moved slightly faster, making you moan with pleasure.

You could feel your legs starting to give out, making your movements slow down slightly.

Of course, Matt noticed, because he grabbed your ass and starting thrusting into you.

That was enough to get your momentum up again. You grabbed his shoulders and lowered your head into the crook of his neck. “Fuck Matt, I'm gonna cum.”

Your moans were turning into breathy whines. “M’gonna cum too. Fuck. Do it with me baby.”

You let out a moan as your orgasm came, Matt still slight thrusting, and finishing after you.

You could see the sweat on his forehead, making his hair stick to it.

“You did so good for me baby,” matt whispered in your ear, then going to kiss you.

Thankfully, the car wash was slowly ending. “Shit. I forgot about the car wash.” You quickly changed into your clothes, a wave of tiredness slowly crashing upon you.

Matt was already in the driver's seat, driving up to the air-drying system. “Matt,” you mumbled, your eyes fighting for wake.

“What is it baby?” He turned back to face you. “I’m gonna take a nap,” you said in a drowsy voice. “Can we cuddle when we get home?”

He smiled at you softly. “Of course we can babe.” He reached his hand out to swipe some hair out of your face.

“Love you,” you mumbled. “Love you too,” was the last thing you heard before you drifted off to sleep.

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meraxesmoon · 10 months

Text

Dragon Riding

note: the urge to write subby aegon was too strong you guys

warnings: yandere aegon, but he's soft, simp aegon, msub, incest (reader is rhae's daughter and heir), perv aegon, au where laenor lives, reader is a peacemaker, dinner scene, he's drunk, smut, mentions of childbirth, reader had a baby like a year prior lol, so curvy reader ig, idk chubby women make me go crazy, riding, aegon gets emotional, reader fucks him stupid bc who wouldn't want to fuck a man dumb, crybaby aegon, soft! dom reader, soft stuff

Family dinners were far from Aegon's favorite. They were always tense and dull, but with the arrival of his half-sister, dinner was even more unbearable. The only enjoyable part of dinner was the fact that he was seated next to his wife, and he had spent most of his time gazing at her cleavage.

(Name) was happy, that much was obvious. Her wide smile and sweet tone of voice made his head spin, as it often does when he's in her proximity. She had missed her parents and brothers, that much was clear. She was right next to Jacaerys, holding his lower arm in a comforting manner.

"It's been too long, little brother," she says, happily smiling at Jace as she looks at him lovingly. "I wish you all would visit more often, and for much happier occasions." (Name) grimaces as she remembers the fate of Vaemond Velaryon, her uncle by law. He had been promptly fed to Syrax after losing the top half of his head.

Aegon feels sick watching them touch. His wife would never be disloyal to him, but there was still the thought that (Name) would have been married to Jacaerys if Rhaenyra had gotten her way.

"Indeed," Rhaenyra speaks up, watching her daughter with a loving gaze. "You should come to Dragonstone sometime as well, daughter."

Aegon may hate family dinners, but Aemond had been the one to fuck it up this time around.

"Enough of this!" (Name) is shrill when addressing her brothers. "We are a family, grandsire is on his deathbed, and you all insist on childish arguments," she was gorgeous when angry. "Aemond, I do apologize for Luke, but it was a jest."

Fuck, he was hard.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tipsy and horny, Aegon waits in their bedchamber for his wife to return. She had informed him that her family would be returning to Dragonstone in the morning, and she likely wouldn't see them again for quite a bit. (Name) was particularly fond of her father, Ser Laenor, and had gone to bid goodbye to him before he took Seasmoke and fled Kings Landing.

He's in the middle of undressing and gulping down a goblet full of wine when the entrance to their bedchamber opens, revealing (Name) in all of her glory. She was still in that beautiful midnight-blue gown that she had worn to dinner, and she looked positively exhausted. Shutting down family disputes usually had that effect on her.

Her eyes catch Aegon in the middle of slipping off his trousers, and she lifts an eyebrow at him.

"Lord Husband, what are you doing?" (Name) asks this question despite already knowing the answer, and Aegon swears she only does this to tease him. He steps out of his trousers before answering. "I'm undressing..." his voice is wobbly and unsure. Perhaps it was the insecurity that came with knowing he was the worst husband that his saint of a wife could have been sacked with, or the knowledge that Rhaenyra would annul their marriage without a second thought. Aegon felt unsure of himself as he walks towards his wife, eyes watery and wide.

"I was hoping that my Lady Wife would be able to offer me comfort," Aegon gives his wife the look he knows she can never say no to, and he drops his undergarments to the floor while standing right in front of her.

(Name) shoots a subtle look of pity, one that many wouldn't be able to catch before she's cupping his face and pressing her lips to his own. Aegon promptly melts, his hands coming to her shoulders as he tries to shake off her dress. It was the kind of dress that had no shoulders, so it realistically should have been easy to pull off, but the nerves and alcohol running through Aegon's body were doing him no favors. She had given birth to their son nearly a year ago, but she still forewent corsets, proclaiming them as uncomfortable. Aegon had never raised a complaint, he loved seeing her natural body fill out those elegant dresses that she owned.

"Aegon," (Name) pulls away from him, hands brushing away the hair that fell in front of his face. "What's the matter?"

The loss of contact is the only thing that Aegon processes, a pitiful whine leaving his lips as he grabs at her hands. Aegon starts to walk backwards, he eventually makes it to their shared bed, and once he lets go of her hands he falls back into the mattress. This is the best view (Name) could have asked for, her pathetic husband laying drunk and insatiable in their bed, his weeping cock bobbing against his lower abdomen.

Aegon Targaryen may not have the longest cock in Westeros, but he most definitely had the thickest.

"I want," Aegon smooths his tongue over his chapped lips. "My wife to ride me."

It doesn't take much longer for (Name) to rid herself of her dress and undergarments, only being left with a long necklace made of jade. That's where Aegon looks as she climbs on top of him gently, taking his face in her hands once again.

Until being married to her, Aegon had never been treated so tenderly in his entire life. His mother, his sister, the whores he had filled his time with, none of them had ever treated him like this. Helaena loved him as her older brother, but being a Dreamer took a huge toll on how she acted. His mother was simply disappointed in him. She loved him, but she did not like him. His marriage and loyalty to his wife was the only thing that had ever made her proud of him.

When he was with (Name), he felt loved.

He felt especially loved once she guides his cock into her cunt.

Aegon whines before arching his back, his hands gripping at the covers of their bed. His usually pale cheeks were blown pink and his forehead was already beading with sweat as (Name) grinds her hips against his own. It was funny to Aegon, because he had never been this sensitive with any whore he'd ever been with. With (Name), he felt utterly out of control. The pleasure of her cunt squeezing his cock made his eyes roll to the back of his head.

"Aegon... ah, is this what you were wanting, husband?" (Name) keeps rocking her hips, her eyes locked on Aegon as he writhes underneath her. This was a welcome sight, and one she knew well. Their dynamic was an odd one, if you were to explain it to other ladies in court, they would gasp in faint. However, her precious husband didn't like being in control when they were in bed together.

In response to her question, Aegon reaches for her face to pull her in for a sloppy kiss. He's hardly focused enough to follow through with the kiss, the sensation of his cock being pleasured was too much for his brain to handle, but that was alright. (Name) followed his lips, kissing him softly. She was always so gentle with him, it was something Aegon absolutely craved.

Aegon mumbles something in between their soft and passionate kisses, and (Name) asks him to repeat it.

"Fuck me... fuck me," Aegon, brainless at this point and nearing his release, whines this out as he grabs onto (Name)'s love handles. He's moving his hips erratically, tears slipping past his eyeline as he whines loudly. Usually, (Name) would beg her precious husband to quiet down a bit. She'd hate for someone else to overhear their bedroom activities, as they had that happen with Aemond once before. Breakfast had been horribly awkward the morning after.

However, she could tell that Aegon's desperation was stemming from something devious. Something in his head was torturing him again, and she hated seeing him like that.

He suddenly shoots up, his arms wrapping around her body as he begs her to keep going. Aegon is sitting up with (Name) in his lap, her hips still rocking against his own as he cries out into her neck. "Fuck, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop-"

It only takes one more rock of (Name)'s hips for Aegon to reach his peak, his orgasm hitting him harshly, despite the gentleness of their lovemaking. Aegon arches his back as he erupts, his cum flooding (Name)'s cunt as he digs his blunt nails into her soft back, crying out in overwhelming pleasure. With her own hips stuttering, (Name) reaches her own finish, her lips pressed against her husband's neck. The sounds Aegon made only spurred her on, and her hips stuttered as she came.

Exhausted after dinner and riding her husband braindead, (Name) rises off of Aegon's spent cock before collapsing into bed, and not too soon after he crawls on top of her, pressing himself against her chest. The only sounds in their room were (Name)'s soft, ragged breaths and Aegon's pathetic little whimpers. He was still sensitive, and (Name) doubted that he even knew what was going on.

Once he settles down on top of her, (Name) runs her fingers through his hair, humming a soft tune in hopes of lulling her needy husband to sleep. She was so tired, and he'd likely try to get her to fuck him again if given the chance.

"How are you doing, Love?" She questions, soothing Aegon as his whimpers and whines die down.

"Hmph..." This is Aegon's only answer as he laces their fingers together, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles.

The both of them fall asleep like this, and Aegon wishes they could stay like this forever.

i'm so embarrassed posting this, if you guys like it please let me know because this made me so insecure.

anyhoot, soft! femdoms > hard! femdoms

#cw: yandere blog #cw: yandere content #cw: yandere #yandere aegon ii targaryen #yandere aegon targaryen #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #yandere team green #yandere team black #yandere smut #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere content #yandere #kay writes #rhxegal

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discokicks · 9 months

Text

BAD IDEAS (ON THE SAME PAGE) — JAMIE TARTT

a fic inspired by bad idea right by olivia rodrigo!

masterlist! song inspo! AO3!

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: football star jamie tartt is an asshole. he’s the one ex of yours that your friends always hated, one that you now all joke about, and one you haven’t spoken to in four years. however, after a chance encounter, the two of you reconnect, and he leaves you with his new number and a hundred questions about his reformed personality. but seeing him tonight would be a bad idea, right?

word count & rating: 11k (wowza), M! (18+! minors get away or i’ll narc on you to your guardians)

warnings: SMUUUUUUT, porn with plot, lots of suggestive language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, sprinkling of a handjob, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kids), angst, mentions of alcohol, probable secondhand embarrassment, exes reuniting (it needs a warning sometimes), jamie tartt was an asshole and is now just a prick (in the best way possible), reader is a physio, major fluff, and swearing. also reader is american (bc the author is too. sorry </3)

authors note: well. i wrote it. olivia wrote this song for teenage girls in their twenties (me) only and i immediately thought of this fic the second i heard it. i'm calling this an exercise in smut writing before i embark on my aces (my roy kent series for my new friends) eventual-smut-adventure, so this evolved into something i wasn’t expecting but i had so much fucking fun writing it. god, i love jamie tartt. also! this is my first smut fic at this type of level, so go easy on me. hope you all enjoy. love you all tons! -mags

There are two universal truths in life.

The first is that the coffee shop you frequent on your way to work will and will always have the best cold brew you’ve ever tasted. The second is that Jamie Tartt will and will always be a massive fucking prick, and you’ll never see him again for as long as you live.

These are two things you live by, and while they may seem rather mundane or petty in the grand scheme of things, they are the only truths you can count on these days. Especially when everything else is so up in the air.

However, the universe doesn’t seem to believe in these things as blindly as you do, and this becomes evident the moment that you step into the shop on a gloomy Wednesday morning. Because these two truths (well, they’re fucking bald-faced lies now aren’t they, huh?) are broken within approximately two minutes of each other with seven words.

It began when you greeted Natalia, the barista who was here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before your shift at the clinic with a wide smile. As soon as she saw your face, her expression turned apologetic, albeit a bit dazed.

“You’re gonna hate me,” she says, putting her hands on either side of the register. Your brows shot up at her words. “We just ran out of cold brew.”

Your face falls. “You’re kidding.”

“We were low on it this morning,” she starts to explain, “our stupid night-shifters didn’t prep enough last night. And it’s been selling like crazy today.”

“Seriously?” you nearly whine. “I might cry.”

“I’m sorry, Doc,” she apologizes, but she doesn’t sound too apologetic. Natalia��s eyes keep shifting to your left, the dazed look in her eye never faltering. Then, she says the fated seven words. “But he took the last of it.”

You turn your head in the direction she’s been looking, and your blood runs completely cold. You think you could drop dead and go to hell at this very moment, and it’d be a better existence than what awaits you in the next five minutes. And while this all may sound dramatic, you don’t care.

You don’t care because Jamie fucking Tartt is standing across from you, newly long hair peeking out from beneath his hood. He’s engrossed in whatever’s on his phone, fingers flying back and forth like he’s texting.

You think you could run. You’re pretty sure you could successfully make a break for it and leave Natalia high and dry without him seeing you. It’d be an easy exit, and you’d never have to see him again.

But then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks up. And the second he meets your gaze, his face falls in what you can imagine was a similar fashion to yours.

Fuck.

Luckily, Natalia is none the wiser. She barely notices your expression, and with Jamie by the pick-up area, she can’t see the way he’s looking at you. So, instead of questioning you, she straight-up giggles.

“I know,” she practically squeals. “I was totally going to save you the last of it, but he asked for it. And I mean, c’mon. It’s Jamie Tartt. I couldn’t possibly say no to him.”

You tragically know that feeling all too well. Knowing you probably would have had a snappier, more cutting response to that if you weren’t in the most debilitating phase of shock, you settle for a quiet, “It’s okay.” You nod at her, brushing it off in an attempt to be casual. “I can settle for an espresso today.”

Natalia nods, tapping it into her register. “Same size as usual?”

“Yeah,” you say, not completely sure what you’re agreeing to. You glance over again at Jamie and find that he’s still standing there, staring at you, and you immediately blink away. “That’s fine.”

The rest of the transaction feels as though it takes a millennium and three seconds all at once. You’re still caught off guard by the time Natalia gives you your receipt with a dazed look in your eye that now matches hers.

However, yours isn’t because you just saw your favorite Richmond player or your favorite reality show villain. It’s because you’ve just seen your ex-boyfriend and you’re about to walk over and stand next to him for a prolonged period of time.

Nothing about this scenario feels real. You hadn’t seen him in four years. Not since things ended as ugly as they had, with him leaving you sobbing outside of a club at three in the morning, letting you know that things were over between you two. And he hadn’t even given you a reason. It was just that he wasn’t ‘feeling’ it anymore.

You saw in a tabloid about three months later that he was now seeing Keeley Jones (yeah, having to compete with that did not sit well with you at all) and had drawn your assumptions from there. Whether or not he’d been seeing her behind your back or had broken up with you to be with her, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. You were in your anger stage of the break-up and only knew one thing.

Jamie Tartt was a massive fucking prick, and you’d sooner walk on a bed of nails before you saw him again.

But now here he was. And there were no nails to be found.

You avoid eye contact as you pass him to wait for your coffee. There’s a piece of you that wants to say hi and play it cool, just to put on a show for him about how unaffected you were by everything that had happened. The other piece of you hopes that not a word is said for your entire time here.

Unfortunately, neither of those happen.

Jamie slides over to be near you, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands are stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket, and you wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t.

Instead, you can feel the ‘play it cool’ part of you rise up to the surface. You could do this. You could feign indifference. Fuck him, you could be cool.

You glance over at him and see that he’s pressing his lips together, eyes shifting around the coffee shop. It’s crazy how familiar you still are with his tells to know he’s desperately looking for a way to say something.

You say it for him. “Hi,” you say simply. Cool and unaffected.

It’s as if the one word alone makes him flinch. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Hi—” He clears his throat after his greeting comes out cracked, and he stuffs his hands further in his pockets. “Hey.”

The awkwardness of this moment is killing you, and it’s taking everything in you to pretend like it's not. As you search for something else to say, you land on, “You took my cold brew.”

You can see his brows shoot up out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, fuck, did I?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I come in here every morning. Friends with the barista. Said she was going to save me the last of it, but…” You trail off and finally look at him. “She couldn’t say no to Jamie Tartt, apparently.”

You want to jump up and down about how well you’re doing right now. Maybe you are over him. Maybe you’ve finally moved past this shit, and seeing him once more is all you needed to solidify that. Maybe—

The second he chuckles softly with an apologetic smile, your confidence in those things shoots down. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Since when do you drink cold brew, anyway?” you ask, frustrated with the fact that he’s fucking laughing in front of you. “You were always a like, caramel macchiato or frappuccino asshole.”

The names make him laugh harder, shaking his head. “Don’t like those anymore,” he responds. “Sugar hurts me teeth. Tryin’ somethin’ new.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “My fucking coffee.”

That chuckle continues with a shrug. “I’m sorry.” he says again. Then he pauses. “But it’s not like your name was on it, or anythin’.”

Your face draws blank, and immediately, Jamie can tell he’s made a misstep. And it’s not that you’re angry about the joke, it’s just the… everything. Him. The situation. Everything you can remember that you wonder if he bothers to remember too.

Before you can walk away, you feel his hand on your arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats for a third time, turning you so that you’ll look at him. Your pissed-off expression meets his easy smile and it only fuels your anger more. “I was jokin’. I’m sorry I took your coffee. We can get ‘em to put your name on it if you want.”

“Whatever,” you mutter. It’s not the most mature thing you could have said, but frankly, you don’t care. You just want to get your consolation espresso and get the hell out of here. “What are you even doing over here anyway?”

You’re not sure why you ask it. You don’t know why you keep the conversation going. Jamie looks just as surprised as you are. “I moved over here a couple weeks ago,” he answers. “Got sick of the old place.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you reply. By the way that Jamie snorts, you know he recalls just how much you hated his apartment when you knew him. It screamed twenty-two-year-old AFC-money shithead and you would tease him about it constantly. “Was the empty beer bottle sculpture finally giving you mold poisoning?”

He chuckles again. “That came down shortly after we stopped talking.”

“Oh, so I was just lucky enough to see it in its final days?”

“Oi,” he says, pointing at you. “That thing was fuckin’ impressive and you know it.”

“Impressive in a dorm,” you shoot back. “Not a seven million pound flat.”

He bows his head in a guilty manner. “You remember that, huh?”

“Hard not to,” you answer. “You never stopped talking about it.”

He at least has the decency to wince at that one. “I know,” he says earnestly. It makes you look at him. He shrugs once more. “I wanted to impress ya.”

He did impress you. But not with things like that. He’d impress you when you watched him play, he’d impress you when he made you laugh, and he’d impress you on the rare occasion that he’d just be himself in front of you. Not some asshole footballer. Just him.

But you don’t say that. You say, “That wasn’t the way.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Got that now.” He rocks back on his heels again, like he’s not sure if he should say whatever he wants to. “I was a proper fucking dick to you, wasn’t I?”

That almost makes you fall over. Did he just say that? Did he actually just admit that? Out loud, here, for everyone to hear? Accountability? Unprompted? From Jamie Tartt?

You want to glance around to see if Rod Sterling’s going to emerge from the bathroom to narrate the next couple of minutes of your life, but are too shocked to do so.

Your surprise must show in your eyes, because Jamie laughs to himself. “Yeah. Wild, innit?” He shakes his head. “On a bit of an apology tour this year. Trying to build back some bridges, or whatever.”

The nod you give him is slow, still reeling from all of this. “Right,” you say lamely. “Building bridges.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you and for a brief moment, you think he may just mean it. The sincerity in his eyes is clear. “I was terrible to you. And I’m sorry.”

Whatever you were expecting when you stepped into this coffee shop on this rainy Wednesday, it certainly wasn’t this. And you certainly weren’t expecting your first time reuniting with him to go this way— with him apologizing to you. The actual words ‘I’m sorry’ just left his mouth.

You genuinely don’t know who this is. Because it’s certainly not the Jamie you knew.

You saw flashes of this guy. Quiet moments during your short-lived relationship, typically when it was just the two of you. It’s the type of guy you always knew he could be if he tried. The type of guy you pushed him to be.

(Your friends always taunted you about having the ever-horrendous I-can-fix-him gene, and they never quite let go of it. But it’s not like it wasn’t true.)

Those flashes are why you held out for as long as you did. If it were anyone else, any other asshole who treated you the way he did, you would have dropped them in a second. But he wasn’t like that. Not always, at least.

It was terrible to think like that. You’d been in a low spot when you’d met him and had taken even lower when he left you. You’d recovered tenfold from that and now knew your worth.

But as he stands in front of you, apologizing, genuinely apologizing, and looking at you like that, you start to question it.

No! the logical part of your brain practically screams. Don’t you fucking dare.

You’re keen to listen to that for the time being. It hardens you. And all you can do is nod at him again. “Well, uh—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You cough awkwardly. “Yeah. You were. Terrible to me. And, uh… thank you. For saying that.”

So much for playing it cool. You want to slam your head up against the wall but hold yourself back from doing so.

He nods at you, opening his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by one of the baristas calling your name. His cold brew’s sitting on the counter too, something the two of you clearly missed in the middle of your conversation.

When you reach for your drink, he grabs his too. He’s still staring at you, biting the inside of his cheek like he wants to say something. When you go to move around him, he stops you.

“Look, I just—” You look up at him expectantly, and his shoulders deflate. “I know you probably want nothin' to do with me. But, I just… I want to talk to you.”

Your espresso is hot in your hands. “Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

That’s when he says your name. Your actual name. Not the nickname that everyone calls you, not a pet name that he used to use, he says your name. And it makes you stop in your tracks.

It’s so stupid. It’s so fucking dumb that your fucking name can send you back to the day you first met him and were completely taken with him. You hate it. And you hate the way it makes your walls come crumbling down.

“Please,” he begs. “Can we… Can I at least give you my number? It’s a new one, but I-I think I’ve still got yours. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But just so you can… I don’t know? Think about it?”

You wouldn’t know if he still had your number. You blocked him ages ago. But you doubt it.

However, the more you think about it, the more you consider it. It’s the product of your resolve falling and well, everything else about him now. You think about it.

If you allowed him to give you his number, the ball would be in your court. You could do what you wanted with it. You could text him, you could tell him to fuck off, you could ignore him. It was up to you.

And you don’t know if that’s worse or better.

You decide on better. The second you sigh, Jamie knows he’s got you. A wide grin breaks out on his face as you hand him your phone. “I’ll think about it,” you mutter.

That’s good enough for him. He gives your phone back to you, new number inserted and new contact created. You’re glad he didn’t search for his old one. That one just says ASSHOLE in big capital letters with about a million gun emojis.

(That was done by your previous roommates in an effort to get you to move on from him. You thought it was a bit overdramatic. You were never one for emojis.)

He’s smiling when he holds his coffee out for you. You stare at him blankly, thinking he’s attempting to cheers you. Instead, he shakes his head and says, “Take it.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Trade with me,” he clarifies and your expression turns to one of shock. “C’mon. You said it’s yours anyway, right?” When you don’t move he rolls his eyes. “Offer’s only good for another second. Me arm’s getting tired.”

At that, you sigh rather dramatically and grumble to yourself, trying not to act pleased by the gesture. You hand him your coffee and he gives you his. “Thanks,” you say. It was kind of him.

His grin returns and he nods at you. “Alright,” he says. After a slightly awkward beat, he steps back from you. “It was good to see you, Doc. Really.” You’re taken back by how genuine his voice sounds and say nothing in return. “I’ll talk to you later?”

He says it as a question, hopeful and well-meaning. “Yeah,” you tell him noncommittally. “Maybe.”

That too, is good enough for him. Because he sends you one more smile, then walks out of the coffee shop with your espresso in hand.

You’re still reeling from the interaction when you glance down at his your cold brew and see Natalia’s handwriting. She’s made it just as you like it, down to the milk and everything.

But below it is a small drawing. It’s a tiny shark fin with a #9 written inside, with little lettering circling around it.

Doo-doo-do-doo-do-do-doo.

You’re fucked.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” is the question that your best friend and former roommate Leah screams at you over drinks at a busy rooftop bar. So busy, in fact, that barely anyone looks over at the two of you.

You’d made the mistake of telling Leah that not only had you run into Jamie on Wednesday, but you’d let him give you his number.

And you’d texted him after hours of deliberation.

It was something innocent, something you’d thought way too much about, but innocent still. You weren’t sure if you were ready to actually talk to him, but there was something about texting him that wasn’t so scary. Your guard was clearly still up, evident by how dry you were in your messages, and you were keeping your distance. You never texted back too quickly, didn’t ask many questions, and often left him on read.

(Yeah, you’d turned your read receipts on for him. What about it?)

Your first text was a simple enough question, something that you’d been genuinely wondering about since you saw him. It was open enough for a conversation but not too forward. how’d you know my coffee order?

His response came in minutes later. Is that yours? Good taste. It was shortly followed up with, That espresso you drink was fucking disgusting though.

And that was that. That was how you started texting your ex again. That’s how you reconnected yourself with Jamie Tartt. That’s how you knew it was over for you.

And that’s how you’re pretty sure you’re about to kill your best friend.

Leah’s eyes were wild, somehow angry yet still disbelieving yet intrigued. But the intrigue was very minimal. Very minimal. It was hidden well by how pissed off she was at you.

She had every right to be pissed at you. She was the one who always warned you about him. She’d straight-up nursed you back to health when you broke up. She was the one who had to hear about him 24 hours a day until you were finally over him.

Leah had had a year of peace. And now you were killing her for good.

“You’re kidding, right?” she follows up with. Her grip on your arm is tight. “Please tell me your kidding.”

“Leah…” Your voice is weak.

It tells her everything she needs to know. “Oh, my God! Oh, my. God.” She puts her face in her hands. “You’re insane. You’re fucking losing it and we need to have you checked out right now.”

“I’m completely sentient and in control of my own body.”

“Are you sure?”

You sip at your cocktail. “I reset a knee today. I’m pretty sure.”

“I think you might need to reconsider,” she says. “Because you just told me that not only are you talking to Jamie Tartt again, but you were the one who instigated it!”

You deserve this verbal beatdown and you know it. But all you can do is shrug. “Technically, he gave me his number. He’s the one who instigated it.”

“I’m gonna throw my fucking drink in your face,” Leah threatens, gripping her glass in warning.

You roll your eyes at her. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” you say, even though you know you’re probably lying. Leah knows this too. “We’ve just been texting a little. It’s nothing serious.”

“Yeah, sure,” she deadpans. “Right. And even if I did believe you, what happens if it does? What happens if you get back in your weird, scary Jamie phase and he kills you again? I can’t deal with that.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you assure her, and this time it’s more confident. Because you know you won’t. Not this time. Not if anything happens.

You’d met Jamie when you were twenty-two. You were in your first year of your Masters program, slightly lost as in your move to London to finish your journey to become a physical therapist. Or a physio, as they called it here. Whatever. You couldn’t keep up with the names.

You were shadowing a physio at the clinic you now worked at, assisting him as a part of your internship at one of the football tournaments the clinic worked at. It was a ton of big-wig footballers, some names you recognized, others you didn’t. But it didn’t matter. They were precious fucking cargo and you were so paranoid about screwing up that you barely registered who they were when you worked on them.

That was, until a twenty-two-year-old Jamie Tartt sprained his ankle and plopped himself down on your doctor’s bench. He looked at you, you assisted him, and you were wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t even notice he was flirting with you.

You didn’t realize until he asked you out. And the rest was history, for better or for worse.

You were surprised he went for you. You knew who Jamie was, what type of girls he liked to be seen with. They were singers and models and actresses. They weren’t you.

(Perhaps that’s one of the reasons you liked him so much. Because he chose you. You didn’t like to think about that phase of your life.)

But after six months of seeing him, he ended things out of nowhere. Right when you’d settled on the idea that despite it all, you might be in love with him. And that was that.

You hadn’t seen him since. Not until this week.

“Not gonna happen my ass,” Leah scoffs, bringing you back into the conversation at hand.

A sigh of frustration leaves your lips. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea;” you tell her. “I know it is. But, I don’t know. There was something different about him, Leah. He was just… like not someone I recognized.”

“Maybe because his hair is fucking long and stupid now.” She brings her glass to her lips. “His highlights look horrendous.”

“I actually like his hair like this,” you admit, earning yet another eye roll. “Listen. I’m not saying he’s changed. He probably hasn’t. But I…” You trail off with a shrug. “I don’t know. What if he has?”

Leah’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person she’s ever met in her life. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” she asks incredulously. “Babe, he was a prick to you. Like, category-five, prestige-level twat. Like, worst boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“I know,” you repeat. “And I said nothing’s going to happen. But if it does, and it goes south, I give you full permission to say I-told-you-so for the rest of my life, alright?”

Leah bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. “Whatever,” she says. After a moment, she glances over at you. “I’m just looking out for you, y’know. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I definitely don’t want him to be the reason for that hurt again.”

You grab her hand. “I know,” you say once more. “And I love you for it. But if I’m gonna be stupid, I’m fully aware of when I’m gonna do it. And it’s gonna be my own fault.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Leah nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Fine. Your fucking funeral.”

“I’ll let you give the eulogy and allow you to call me a dumb bitch for ten minutes straight.”

“Sold,” Leah says, pointing at you. That slight intrigue you previously saw in her eye returns. “Okay, now that I’ve yelled at you, you need to tell me everything.”

And so you do. You tell her how he took your coffee, how you nearly threw up the second you saw him, how you played it cool until you didn’t. How he apologized to you. Joked around with you. Apologized some more. And then he gave you his coffee.

You despise how excited you sound about it. Again, you’re trying to play it cool, but the people that know you the best can always see right through you. You’re excited about it. Excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to be excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to look down at your phone after you and Leah order another drink. Your heart stops when you see he’s texted you.

It’s a bad idea to open the message when Leah excuses herself to go to the bathroom. What are you up to tonight?

It’s past midnight on a Saturday and he’s texting you. It’s still preseason for him, so he might be drunk, he may not be. You’re three drinks deep and aren’t sure if you are.

It’s a bad idea to respond to him. getting drinks with a friend. You keep it dry.

It’s a bad idea to not look down at your phone until you finish the drinks you ordered. Because now, you’re definitely drunk and looking at it all with new eyes.

Would you want to hang out tonight? No pressure.

It’s a bad idea to consider it.

But it’s a worse idea to agree.

text me your new address. i can be there by 1:30.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re knocking on Jamie’s door, intertwining your fingers together when you realize you’re shaking.

The second you do it, you regret it. You’re no longer feeling the effects of your drinks. It wore off on the Uber ride over here. And everything seems like a terrible idea now.

God, what were you doing? He treated you like that and the second you see him again, you go running back? He was an asshole. He’d made you question everything about yourself, he’d made you cry, he’d made you experience every fucking emotion in the book and all it took is one text for you to be back on his doorstep?

Your roommate was right. This was a horrendous idea and you were an idiot.

However, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because Jamie Tartt’s opening his door and he’s got a stupid fucking smile on his face. And the second you see it, you know there’s no turning back.

“Hey,” he says as he opens the door. “You alright, love?”

You clench your jaw at the name, at his smile, about how casual he’s being, about everything. “Hey,” you say, avoiding his eyes to look around his flat.

It’s a complete 180 from what he had when he first joined Richmond and what he had when you knew him. It’s a bit less mojo-dojo-casa-house-looking and something more mature. While you can still tell that a twenty-something guy definitely lives here, it’s decorated well, it’s put together, and it’s clean. No beer bottle sculptures in sight. He’s even got a fucking candle burning on his counter. Who the fuck is this and what did he do with the guy you knew?

Jamie follows you as you enter, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “You find the place okay?”

His question snaps you out of your flat-induced haze. “Yeah,” you reply. You clear your throat. “This is nice.”

That same, stupid smile returns, but it looks a bit nervous. “Yeah. I told you it was a bit different, huh?” he chuckles. He walks toward his island, rounding it as he speaks. “Needed a fresh start or whatever. The old one was gettin’... old.” He watches you as you nod, continuing to look around. “You still in the same place with the same people?”

“Uh, no. Different place. No people,” you answer. You’ve stayed on your side of the counter, actively keeping your distance. “Willa moved to New York last year and Leah moved with her boyfriend. We live in the same building, though, which is nice.”

The small talk is fucking killing you. You’re not even sure if he cared to remember your previous roommates' names, so this all could be pointless. You can’t believe you’re here. You can’t believe you’re actually standing here, talking to him about the past.

But as you finish speaking, he nods like he’s listening. Maybe he is listening. Maybe he does remember.

“I’ll have to see that sometime,” he ends up saying, and the implication of it makes your head spin. He wants to see you again. Or he just learned small talk common courtesy. Whatever it is, it’s driving you insane. You have so many questions for him, so many things to say, and as he wipes his hands on his pants again and nods over to his kitchen, he asks, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got—”

“Why did you invite me here, Jamie?” The question comes spilling out of you, rushed as if it were waiting on the tip of your tongue and simply couldn’t stand to stay in any longer. Jamie stops in his tracks to blink at you. The look on his face encourages you to go on. “I mean, I know I texted you first. But why… why did you text me tonight? Why’d you—” You grimace, trying to find the right words. “Why’d you give me your number?”

He’s silent for a moment. Thinking. Evaluating. But his eyes haven’t left you. “Because I wanted you here,” he finally says. You cross your arms over your chest as he takes a step toward you. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you.”

You want to say that you’ve been driven crazy all week because you feel same, but decide against it. Instead, you look away from him and scoff. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you, and your heart stops with every step he takes. “I felt like I was goin’ insane. I didn’t…” For a flash of a second, he looks shy. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. And I didn’t think you’d actually text me. I mean, I hoped you would, but…”

He’s right in front of you, but you still refuse to look at him. Your gaze has shifted to the floor. “I shouldn’t have,” you mutter.

The asshole has the nerve to chuckle, but it’s nervous. Your stomach churns. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard him nervous. “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “I don’t deserve it.” He pauses and your throat starts to tighten. “I didn’t deserve you.”

That makes you look at him. Either he’s actually apologetic about everything, or he’s gotten really good at knowing everything you want to hear. “No. You didn’t.”

His fingers tentatively brush your arm and you allow him to take your hand. “I know,” he says. “I was a fucking prick. I get that now. I should never have… done that shit to ya.” You’re close enough to him now that if you moved an inch, his forehead would be up against yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. The action makes your throat tighten. “And I can’t fix it. But I…” He trails off again and looks you dead in the eye once he has the words. “I want to make it up to you.”

Your resolve is getting weaker and you hate yourself for it. You lean back against the counter, like that will put space between you two. “Jamie…”

“Please,” he whispers. His forehead finally meets yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. You don’t pull away. “Let me make it up to you.”

The last front you have standing weakly presents itself. “If you think,” you begin, breath shuddering as his hand meets your neck, “that one 2 AM hookup is going to make up for what you did, I—”

“I know it won’t,” he says, and it sounds like he does know. “But I want it to be a start.” The fingers on your neck are now tracing your jaw. And they tighten when he says, “Let me show you just how sorry I am, yeah? Let me make it fucking good for you.”

Jesus fucking Christ. That last front dissolves the second he says that, and your logic flips on itself. You came over here for a reason. You knew what this was. At least you got an overdue apology. Whether or not he meant it, is still up in the air, but if he’s promising things like that, then you might as well get something out of it.

You struggle to get a word out, so you nod against his hand. “O-Okay,” you finally stammer out. The way he’s looking at you gives you enough confidence to say, “Fine. Make it up to me.”

Jamie’s lips curl into a smirk and say, “As you wish,” before they’re on yours.

He’s softer than you remember. His lips aren’t chapped, he isn’t as aggressive with it, and he isn’t as rushed. Everything about him feels more mature and you struggle to understand how fast he could have changed in four years. But you’re not complaining. Not when he’s kissing you like this, with more practice and passion than you can ever recall.

His hand unlocks from yours to slide it up your sweatshirt, and it’s surprisingly warm against your back. Still, you shiver from the contact and you can feel him smirk once more against your lips.

The action alone prompts you to fork a hand in his hair and tug at it slightly, reveling in the soft sound that escapes him. Everything about him comes back to you at once, and you’ve never been happier to know that the same things still get him. If he wants to play it like that, you can keep up.

His hands drop to grab your thighs and lift you onto the counter, breaking the kiss momentarily. Your chest is heaving up and down, lips swollen and wet. Jamie appears to be in the same boat. “Fuck,” he whispers, sounding even more out of breath than you. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, nose rubbing against it as he makes his way down. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Meant to tell you that at the shop.”

You’re too caught up in it all to play it cool, especially as he works at that one spot on your neck. “You look— fuck, you look good too. The long hair suits you.”

You feel him grin against your neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathily. “Looked like a prick with the old cut.”

You feel his teeth dig into your skin at that one, and you hiss. “You liked that prick,” he reminds you.

You were in love with that prick, but you ignore that thought. “I liked a lot of things about him,” you respond. While it’s honest, the accidental double meaning of it isn’t lost on you.

It’s certainly not lost on Jamie. “Yeah?” he asks again. He lifts his head to look at you, hand creeping up your leg. “What’d you like?” You grip his arm as it rises beneath your sweatshirt once more. “C’mon love. Tell me what you want.”

You hate the way your breath hitches the second his fingers meet your back. You know what you want. You want to see what he’s learned since you last had him. What he’s like four years later. What’s changed, what’s stayed the same. But you’re too embarrassed and much too proud to ask.

Instead, you decide to say, much too shyly for your liking, “You know what I want.”

He hums in agreement, other hand creeping dangerously close to the inside of your thigh. “I do, don’t I?” he murmurs. “Bet I know everything ya want. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Oh my, God,” you say under your breath, frustration creeping into your voice. The asshole fucking laughs at you. “I want you to make good on your promise. This seems far from it.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Just making sure we’re still, y’know. On the same page.” He glances at you. “Right?”

You blink at him. You’re not sure you could have been clearer about what page you’re on. But that’s not what surprises you. What surprises you is the seriousness in his eyes. How he’s searching for assurance in yours. And you know that if, for whatever godly reason, you wanted to stop, he’d pull away immediately, despite how worked up he clearly is.

It's the bare fucking minimum, but it's more than you’re used to getting.

So, you nod. “Yeah,” you say. “Definitely on the same page.”

The grin he breaks out to is nothing short of breathtaking. “Good.”

“But—” you suddenly say, stopping him from leaning in once more. He freezes beneath your touch, brows furrowing. “This is… This is a one-time thing. You’re…” You trail off to find the word. “You’re apologizing to me. That’s all this is.”

His smile falters, dropping momentarily before returning with a bit less radiance. It’s his turn to nod. “Okay,” he says, fingers now toying with the edge of your sweatshirt. “Gotta make it count, then.”

And with that, Jamie presses his lips back to yours, grabbing you securely and pulling you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, grabbing the sides of his face, like that’ll stable you against him.

This time, it’s more desperate. It’s more tongues and teeth, more force and intention behind each movement. He’s setting the pace, but you’re keeping up tenfold. While it’d been four years, you’re not sure if he’d ever kissed you like this. He’s passionate instead of aggressive. While he knows what he wants, he’s definitely not just going to take it. He may be leading but he’s listening to you. And that stirs something inside you that you haven’t felt in a long time.

That much is clear, because you unconsciously let out a quiet sound against his lips. You can feel him smiling once more as he walks you slowly to wherever the hell his bedroom is. You’re caught up in him. And by the way he’s gripping you, you can tell he’s just as caught up in you.

So much so, that he completely loses track of where he’s going and accidentally slams you into his doorframe. You yelp, more because of shock than pain, and pull away to glare at him.

Jamie’s already apologizing. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Still gettin’ used to this place.”

“Well, figure out how to navigate better,” you respond, verging on a pout as you rub the back of your head.

“I’m sorry!” he repeats. He’s still got you against the doorframe. “It’s hard to see with your big head in me face. And I can’t kiss ya with, like, my eyes open. It’d be freaky.”

“I’ll give you a pass for that one,” you reply dryly. “Be weird instead of giving me a concussion.”

He’s walking you toward the bed when he mutters, “I’ll give you something, alright.”

Your back meets the mattress and you try to ignore the way he held his hand behind your head when he laid you down. You have under a second to adjust before he’s on top of you. The desperation returns and it almost takes your breath away.

He’s essentially straddling you, tugging at the waist of your leggings before he leaves one last kiss on your lips. He finally gets to pull your sweatshirt off, something he’d clearly been dying to rid you of since he first kissed you. You lift your arms up to help him, finding that you quickly start to do the same to him. You hear him chuckle as you attempt to get it up his back.

“I got it, love, hold on,” he says softly, tossing your hoodie to the side to take off his own. Your eyes immediately go to his chest and stomach and you refrain from reaching out to touch him. When you look up at him, you expect him to be smirking. However, he’s doing the exact opposite.

Jamie’s looking down at you like he can’t fucking believe you’re real. It’s jarring, seeing him like this, but you figure he’s in the same headspace as you and is still struggling to process that this is happening. It doesn’t matter, because before you can question it, he’s moving to press a kiss to your collarbone.

Your hand falls into his hair as he works his way down, mouthing the area of your chest. He pauses before he gets to the bra you’re wearing. His eyes flick up to yours. “Can I—”

You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, shifting to make it easier for him. He discards it to the floor with the rest. When he looks back at you, he releases a shaky breath and just stares.

He stares so intently that you begin to get self-conscious. “What?” you ask.

The question takes Jamie out of his trance. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I just— I… Fuck. I forgot how beautiful you were.”

That spreads a warmth through you, one that pulls at your core. As you feel your face heat, you realize you have nothing to say to that. Luckily, he’s already moving on.

Jamie’s different. Really different. And you don’t realize how different he is until you start looking at him like you are right now. You were trying to convince yourself when you told Leah that he’d changed, you’ll admit that. But right now, you think you may have been telling the truth.

He grabs the waist of your leggings once more, lifting your legs to pull them off. You can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips as he struggles to do so. He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Missed that.”

“What?” you ask again.

“Your laugh,” he replies. “Missed that more than you know.”

The sweet words hit you like a bullet. The vulnerability in his voice is what gets you. Goddammit, when did he get so fucking nice? It drives you insane. But it also makes you quietly admit, “I think I’ve got an idea.”

With your leggings now gone, Jamie’s smile turns fonder. Gentler. He presses a kiss to your leg but says nothing in response. He simply places your legs down, eyes flicking down. He lifts his hand to trace down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your panties. The feeling makes you flinch.

He hooks a finger in the band, and your hips buck up to encourage him. His other hand spreads across your hip in a poor effort to keep you still. “Easy,” he murmurs.

You huff out a breath. “You can—” Your breath hitches as two of his fingers push into your underwear. “Fuck, you can take them off.”

His lips quirk up. “Well, thank you for the permission,” he says. “But not yet. I wanna take it slow with ya.”

Your mouth parts. “Why?”

“Because it’s been years since I’ve seen you,” he answers, moving up to kiss you softly. He speaks against your lips as he says, “And I’ve apparently only got one shot to do this right. So I’m gonna make this last.”

You roll your eyes at his terribly disguised jab. “You’re a dick,” you mutter against him.

“And you’re—” He cuts himself off and a gasp escapes your lips as he cups your core and rubs his palm against it. “Fuck, love. You’re really fucking wet.” He’s positioned on you so that you can feel him getting harder against you thigh. “This all for me, yeah?”

His voice is cocky, while still sounding awestruck. The remaining dignity you have left makes you roll your eyes, albeit a bit embarrassed. “It’s for whoever doesn’t take their fucking time to give me what I want,” you bite.

Jamie draws back from you with a full smirk on his face. “That so?” he asks. The hand against you starts creeping up to the band of your panties. “And what is it that you want? You still haven’t told me.”

You scoff. “I told you.”

He pulls your underwear down your legs and the air around you suddenly makes you realize just how exposed you are. You told yourself you’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this again. But here you were.

His fingers brush against the inside of your thigh, and you shiver once more. “No,” he tells you gently. “You didn’t. You just said you wanted me to keep my promise. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.”

He’s moving closer and closer to the place you want him and you don’t know if you can take it anymore. You shift uncomfortably, as if that will cease the ache. But you know only one thing will.

So, you give him the answer he’s been waiting for this entire time. “You.” His gaze meets yours. “I want you, Jamie. Please.”

That breathtaking grin returns. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

And then he puts his mouth on you without warning.

You spasm at the contact, crying out as he uses both arms to hold you still. The second you calm down, one hand leaves your thigh and you feel him work two fingers into you. Fuck. He didn’t know that before.

And it’s not like he was ever bad in bed when you two were together. You’re not sure you would have stayed with him if that were the case. It’s just… he’s better now. He’s hitting everything nearly perfectly, not stumbling like he used to. He’s more confident. More assured. He knows what he’s doing.

And it’s fucking hot.

The sounds that fill his room are downright obscene. He’s gripping one side of you to keep you in place, splitting you open on his knuckles with the other. His mouth zeroes in on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a way that honestly has you close already.

“F-fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, Jamie. Don’t st— shit. Don’t stop. Please.”

Of course, the fucking shit he is, stops. He grins up at you, but continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You sound so fucking pretty begging like that,” he tells you. He’s just as out of breath as you are. He feels you clench around his fingers at the praise and it only eggs him on further. “Look so pretty too. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Jamie,” you whine again. He’s going too slow. Teasing. It’s not fucking fair. He’s supposed to be the one apologizing to you. “I need— Ngh. I need—”

“What do you need?” he asks. “Tell me.”

You think you’d kill him if you weren’t completely incapacitated. “More,” you manage to get out, wincing as he continues at his slow pace. You’re close. Embarrassingly close. “Just fucking more. Please. I’m—” You interrupt yourself with a moan as he shoves his fingers deeper into you.

“I know,” he nearly coos. “I’ve got you.”

And got you he does. Because not only does he pick up the pace, he stretches you with a third finger. The sting of it is momentary, and it subsides as soon as he bends down and swipes your clit with his tongue.

Your back arches. “Jesus fucking— Jamie. Oh, my God.”

He’s good. Of course, he’s fucking good. He’s Jamie Tartt. You’re not sure he’s ever been bad at anything physical in his life. Emotionally was another story. But that story didn’t matter right now. Not when he’s got you like this, and you’re teetering over the edge.

He pulls away from you, breath tickling your core as he speaks. “C’mon,” he chides. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you, love?” He takes your breathy silence as confirmation and nods to himself. “Yeah. You just need—”

He removes one finger and crooks the rest a certain way, deeper than before. Your heart may stop beating. He’s done something he did to you time and time again, something that he was actually really fucking good at, something he knew you liked years ago. When he looks up at you, he searches your eyes. And by the way they roll back, he knows he’s struck gold.

The smirk returns and he continues to work his fingers into you, smirk growing each time he hears you say his name. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s it. That’s still it.”

You could finish at any moment. The telltale heat is rising in your stomach, and you’re just waiting for the cord to snap. And then, as if your muscle memory takes over, you reach out for his arm.

But instead of letting you do it like before, he does something completely different. He intertwines his free hand with the back of yours and guides it to your stomach. And then he presses on your hand.

The pressure builds. You’re barely able to make any noise. And then—

“C’mon,” Jamie repeats. “Come for me, angel. I wanna see it.”

The cord snaps, and you do as you’re told. You come. Hard.

Jamie talks you through it, fingers still moving to coax your climax out of you. You’re sure you look pathetic, crying out and thrashing around in his bed, but you don’t care. You can barely fucking see right now.

It’s been a while for you. Or at least been a while since you’ve had anything that good. And it completely strips away any sort of attitude or frustration you had before.

When you finally come back down, you laugh softly, shaking your head and throwing your arm over your face. “Fuck,” you say through a chuckle.

You feel him shift, moving up the bed to hover over you once more. When he removes your arm from your eyes, you see that he’s smiling. “Nobody’s ever laughed after I’ve done that,” he tells you, a faux pout pulling at his lips. He bends down to press them to yours and you can taste yourself. “It better be a good fuckin’ sign.”

You laugh again, reaching up to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss. “Very good sign,” you assure him. It’s muffled against him, but you think he gets the point.

It’s then that you catch him by surprise and flip the two of you over, straddling him in a way that makes him release a breathy sound that you’d missed dearly. But, something feels off.

Your glance down at him, expecting to feel or see fabric once you reach his leg. But there’s not much. Only what feels like boxer shorts. It catches you off guard. When did he take off his—

It doesn’t matter. It’s easier for you now. Especially as your fingers move across his abdomen, biting back a grin at the way he shudders. He looks up at you from his pillow.

“What are you doing?” he asks leadingly.

You shrug innocently, fingers toying with the band hanging low on his hips. “Returning the favor,” you reply.

Jamie makes a noise of disapproval, placing a hand on your thigh like that’ll stop you. “I’m supposed to be the one making it up to you,” he states, but his voice gets less firm as you cup him through the fabric. “Fuck. Y-You don’t owe me anythin’. No favors.”

You shake your head, pulling at his boxers so that he springs free from inside. Your eyes travel back to his as you reach out and gently grab his cock, staring down at him with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure?”

He looks pained. You don’t know why. You’re offering a way to take him out of his misery. But still, he shakes his head and moves his arm from your leg to your back.

He takes his turn to flip you over next. He swears under his breath as he does so, shaking his head when you land on your back.

“I told you,” he says, taking his boxers all the way off now. “It’s about you. Not me.” He shakes his head again, but this time it’s a bit more frustrated. When he speaks, it’s mostly to himself. “Can’t believe I just fuckin’ said no to that.”

A snort escapes you. “You’re a changed man, Jamie Tartt,” you joke.

He shrugs before placing his arms on either side of you. His voice teeters on teasing and earnest. “I’ve been trying to tell ya that.”

You’re not sure if it’s him, or the situation, or the sex, but you think you believe him. It makes your chest heavy. But you can’t admit that. You won’t let yourself. So, you keep that feeling tucked away, way in the back of your mind for safekeeping. You know it’s better like that. For your emotional sake, at least.

You allow yourself to prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him instead of responding to that, bringing him in closer. You can feel the length of him press against your stomach, and his groan vibrates against your lips.

He pulls away, grinding into you. The heat of your body is making him go wild. “Can I—”

You know what he wants. And you want it too. “Please,” you say.

He nods, moving to angle himself against you. You glance down to watch him, heat flooding your face as he strokes himself before glancing up at you. You nod in return, giving him the confirmation he needs. Jamie grins.

He slides in you slowly. The stretch is mild but grows as he hovers over you once more. It’s easy to adjust, having been warmed up moments before. But for Jamie, it’s not as easy.

He bottoms out almost immediately, tensing over you. His head bows, chin falling to his chest. “Fuck,” he curses. It’s quiet but straight-up sinful. “God, fucking— you’re so—” You grip onto his bicep as he steadies himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just— i-it’s been a minute. And you’re f-fucking tight. Jesus.”

You don’t mind. He feels good like this, despite the fact he’s not moving. Your hand travels from his arm to his hair, tucking a piece of it behind his ear before settling on his jaw. “It’s alright,” you tell him. “We’ve got time.”

Jamie’s eyes snap open at that, but he’s not looking at you like you thought he would. You were expecting a cheeky sort of smile, a smirk, something in that realm. But he’s not. He’s looking at you like…

It’s something you can’t define. Something you’ve never seen before. It churns your stomach yet makes your heart race. Neither of you says a word.

He just dips down to kiss you again and slowly begins to move inside you. Your lips part in a gasp, and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Your back arches into him.

Before you know it, he's breaking from you and is breathing heavy against your neck. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re just— fuck. You…” He trails off, mouth hovering over your collarbone. “You drive me f-fucking mad. God, everything about you. Y-you don’t even know, do you?”

The pace picks up. He’s thrusting into you harder now and your nails dig into his back. You hear him hiss at the contact, but neither of you seem to care. “Fuck.” It’s all you can say. “Fuck, Jamie.”

He’s clearly not done talking. “How’d I-I fuck this up? Huh?” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. His mouth is on your chest now and the feeling runs through you like fire. “Fucking idiot. Didn’t know what I had. Can’t believe I let you go.”

You clench around him and it throws him off kilter. You watch his jaw clench, hand beside you gripping the pillow you’re on. “You w-were an idiot.” Your agreement is much less effective when it’s closed out by a high-pitched moan.

“I know. Fuck, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Deserved better.” He continues to slam into you. “I wanna gi—” A strangled sound erupts from his lips. “Give you better. You’re so—” When he shakes his head, he looks wrecked. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Something about that sends a shock to your system. It makes you cry out and you can feel it. Your legs tremble around him. You’re close again. You’re really fucking close.

He kisses you once more, deeper than before. It’s more frantic. Everything about him is more erratic. You can tell he’s getting there too. “Couldn’t stop,” he manages to get out, hot against your lips. “Couldn’t s-stop thinking about you. I missed you.”

You clench around him again, the admission inching you closer. “Shit,” you say. “Fuck, Jamie, keep going.”

And keep going he does. His hand moves down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into it and that sends you into a fucking tailspin. He swallows the sound you make.

“Missed you,” he says again, but it’s more helpless. Jamie fucking whimpers. “God, I f-fucking missed you, angel. Missed you so fucking much, I—”

You don’t hear the rest of what he says because you come the second he makes that sound. It’s white-hot. Blinding. Your legs twitch around him and you claw at him as he continues to rub your clit. You’re loud, but you don’t give a shit. It seems to spur him on.

He’s not far behind you. He spills into you with a groan, stomach flexing as he heaves over you, twitching inside of you. You’re still recovering from your own high as you open your eyes to watch him. You catch his expression for a moment before he’s collapsing into you.

You release a soft ‘oof’ at the sudden weight of him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and neither do you. You just breathe together. But after a moment you allow yourself to put a hand in his hair.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you tell him, but there’s not much bite in it.

You feel him chuckle. “Give me second,” he says. “Not as fuckin’ agile as I used to be. Took a lot out of me, alright?”

You roll your eyes but continue to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-six and like, the face of the AFC,” you tell him. “Richmond might have to shorten your contract if you’re dying after that.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Take that up with me Chairwoman then.”

You can’t help but laugh as you push him off of you, wincing as you feel him slip out. He lands with the same noise you did. “If she heard you complaining like that, she’d be on my side.”

Jamie grins at you, joining in on your laughter. He shifts toward you, grabbing your hand to play with your fingers. “You’re probably right. Shouldn’t be complainin’,” he says. He lifts your hand to his lips. “Not when you’re here.”

They’re sweet words. The casualty of them makes your heart swell. But that anxiety about him returns. One time thing, you tell yourself. Apology. One time. That’s all.

You pull your hand back softly and he glances over at you. There’s a hint of worry in his eyes, like that one movement set off alarm bells in his head. You give him an uneasy smile.

Before you can move to get up or say anything or do something, he’s talking. And you have to refrain from wincing.

“I know…” He looks away from you. Shy. “I know you said one time,” he says, as if he can read your fucking mind. “And that’s… That’s okay. I get that, yeah? But I—” Jamie wipes a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. “I meant what I said. I missed ya. Really.”

You missed him too. But your walls have been rising back up since he started talking again. “I don’t know what you want me to do with that,” you tell him, only partially lying.

You feel like an asshole when he winces. Maybe you were being an asshole. Maybe it was finally your turn to do so.

“Just…” He finally looks at you. “If you ever… don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.” He waves it off in an attempt to look casual. You know he’s anything but. “You’ve got my number. Or whatever.”

The timidness in his voice makes your resolve soften. Even if you don’t see him again, you suppose you can let him down easy. He’s been kind enough tonight to deserve that. You nod at him as you sit up. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll let you know.”

It’s only slightly awkward as you get out of his bed and search for your clothes. He asks if he can call you an Uber home and you reject it, letting him know that you’ve got one on the way.

You can feel his eyes on you as you dress, ignoring the way they burn into you. You can tell he’s searching for something to say, or something to talk to you about but doesn’t know what.

You’re half-dressed before he can shoot himself in the foot and say something stupid. “Hey,” he finally says. You glance over your shoulder at him after you slip your sweatshirt on. “I’m really glad you texted me.”

The nice streak you’re riding on continues and you offer a small but genuine smile in return. “Me too,” you admit, ignoring the way that his own soft smile pulls at your heartstrings.

Before you leave his room, you offer one more admission. You stop in the doorframe he hit you against, lips curling further upward. “It was really good to see you, Jamie.”

He props himself up on his elbow, smile growing. “Good,” he says, nodding. Then, like a prick, he winks at you. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You physically cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes and you hear him laugh to himself as you walkdown his hall. “Goodbye, asshole.”

He shouts a tired-sounding ‘bye!’ when you slip your shoes on, shaking your head as you look around his apartment once more. The candle on his counter is still burning, smelling of amber moss and palo santo.

You blow it out before you leave, knowing he’ll forget.

And as you do so, you feel yourself regress. Or grow. You’re not quite sure which one.

But it makes you curse under your breath and leave his flat immediately.

There is one more universal truth you forgot to mention.

And that’s that the second you think you’re over Jamie Tartt, he comes back into your life and flips everything on its head. And it’s the only truth that’s been confirmed to you all week.

Because the second you arrive home and see that you have a text waiting for you, your heart picks up. You hate the way you get excited to see it.

I had a really good time tonight.

And the second he comes back into your life, you’re reminded that you’re not over him. Not even in the slightest. And it’s fucking debilitating.

me too.

And you know your friends are going to kill you the second you follow up with.

i’m free friday if you want to grab a drink.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt fanfiction #bad ideas #the one who's not a loser but THEE loser #discowrites

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channiesbedroom · 1 year

Text

Worth it | bc

o.m.g. my first ever actual post! Enjoy and send me any comments pls! My lack of smut experiences should be very clear

NSFW - Minors DNI!!!!

You've been counting down the days until Chan comes home, so imagine your surprise when you wake up to find him tucked in bed next to you.

Bangchan x Female Reader

Fluff & Smut

// Strong language, boyfriend Chan is the best, interchangeable use of 'Chan' and 'Chris' (sorry), explicit sexual content, references to pregnancy, minor breeding kink lol //

The sunlight floats through the half-closed blinds, waking you gently. You try to turn to your side, surprised when a weight presses onto your waist, pulling you slightly.

“Babe, stop moving.” A rough voice grumbles. You finally open your eyes, smiling softly when you spot his dark hair, his face buried in the pillow, and his arm tossed over you.

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet!” You whisper, trying not to make your excitement too noticeable. Chris had been in the Philippines for a week, with, as far as you knew, another 3 days left until it was time for him to come home. You’d fallen asleep early last night after a long day at work, crashing fully clothed on the couch at 8pm, but now somehow you’re in your most comfortable set of pyjamas, tucked up in bed.

“When did you get back?” You hear him grumble again at your question, finally shifting himself to face you, his hand moving from your waist to stroke your cheek.

“9 last night. I was so excited to see you! Imagine my disappointment when I walked in to find you fast asleep. You didn’t even wake up when I carried you across the house and changed your clothes. Babe, I even took your makeup off for you!” He has an exasperated look on his face, and you can’t help but laugh at his dismay. Snuggling closer into his chest, you sigh.

“I had a long day. If I knew you were coming back, I would’ve stayed up all night. Don’t blame me!” He pulls you in for a soft, chaste kiss, then goes back to stroking your face.

“I love seeing your face in person. I’m never going away again; I can’t handle more facetime.” He chuckles, his whole body moving. You know that isn’t true, you’re pretty sure he loves being the leader of stray kids more than he loves you, and that doesn’t bother you at all.

“Maybe I’ll just come with you next time. It’s not like I’d miss my job much.” You mutter, not expecting Chris to hear you. Suddenly, he pushes you back slightly, a dazed look on his face.

“You’d do that? You’d quit your job to travel with me?” He breathes. You purse your lips, weighing up your answer.

“Yeah.” You whispered. “I love you. I hate my job. If we had the money, I’d never work again just to be next to you for as long as possible.” You’re still whispering, unsure whether this is the answer he wanted. You’ve been a couple for 5 years, so your relationship isn’t new, but you still can’t be certain, insecurity making you anxious. Finally, you look up to make eye contact with him. His eyes are wide, tears gathering at one corner.

“Baby. Don’t tease me.” His voice is shaky.

“I’m not teasing you. I would. Seriously.” He pulls your face towards him, his previously gentle kisses becoming hotter and harsher, teeth pulling on your bottom lip.

“I love you more than anything in the world.” He sighs into your mouth before grabbing your waist again and pulling you onto his lap, sliding backwards so that his back is against the headboard. You giggle, gripping at his shoulders to keep your balance.

“You’re ridiculous.” You tease. His hands start to slide up the edges of your cami top, cold on your warm skin. You can feel the bulge in his pyjama pants, and you feel yourself giggling again. “Chris, my Darling.” He stops, dark eyes gazing up at you.

“Baby?”

“Does emotional intimacy really turn you on this much?” He rolls his eyes, gripping your skin harder and pulling you in for a wet kiss.

“It does. It really does. You should be intimate with me in every way, including emotionally.” He’s surprisingly serious, looking up through thick lashes, but you know he’s the one teasing now, as he begins to grind his hips. His hands start moving again, the thin piece of silk easily slipping over your head. “Mmmm.” He hums, gently placing his palms over your bare breasts. “I think I missed these the most.” You smack his hands playfully before reaching for his white t-shirt.

“Off please.” He lets go of your tits with a huff, stretching his arms upwards so you can slide the top off, resting your hands on his tight abs.

“I missed these the most.” It’s his turn to smack away your hands from where they’re caressing his muscles, turning you over so you’re lying on your back on the soft bed. The crotch of your shorts has already darkened from your arousal, and Chris notices immediately.

“The evidence doesn’t agree with that statement babygirl. These …” He pulled on the damp fabrice “tell the truth.” It takes him only a second to pull both the shorts and your underwear off at the same time, lifting your knees so that you’re fully exposed. As he slides further down the bed, you jump at a sudden ringing. Your phone, which is plugged in on the side table, is buzzing loudly. You grimace as you reach for it, sitting back up.

“Babe, don’t answer it.” Chan groans.

“It’s work, I have to.” You sigh, answering immediately. “Hello?” Your boss immediately starts ranting at you, begging you to come into the office as soon as possible, despite the fact it’s supposed to be your day off. You look down the bed to where Chris has started placing light kisses on your stomach, moving slowly further and further down.

“Quit. Just quit. We can afford it.” He whispers, making intense eye contact.

“Actually.” You interrupt your boss as he continues to ramble. “I resign. Effective immediately. Family business, you know.” Your boss is finally stunned into silence, right as Chris’ kisses start again, this time on the top of your thighs. “Sorry. Look, I have to go. Call Jae-si if you need any help, she knows what I’ve been working on.” With that, you hang up, and reach down to pull Chris’ face to yours.

“I can’t believe you did it.”

“I told you I would.” You chuckle, placing a light kiss on his nose. “You’d better make sure there’s an extra ticket for your next flight.” He pushes you back roughly, sliding until his nose is right by your clit. You had boyfriends before Chris, but no one could ever make you come from eating you out, you would swear he was magic. Breathing heavily, you grip the sheets. “God” You gasp. He hums.

“That’s not my name baby. Try again.” You roll your eyes. Even in the heat of the moment, he continues to make stupid jokes. You’re thrown over the edge suddenly, before you even realise it’s happening, body almost convulsing with the waves of pleasure.

“You are a god, Chris, I’m not kidding.” He leans over you, bare chest to bare chest, placing damp kisses onto your exposed neck.

“I love you.” He whispers, before sitting up, startled. “Wait, did you buy a new pack of condoms?” Your hand flies to your mouth. No, you haven’t bought a new box since you finished the last one. It had been months since you stopped taking the pill after 8 years on it, hoping that you might feel better off it. Chris purses his lips.

“I mean.” He carries on kissing your jaw. “We could risk it.” You push him up so he’s kneeling.

“If we risk it, you know I could get pregnant, right? Would you be ready for that?” You raise an eyebrow. He smiles, grin stretching all the way to his eyes.

“Fuck yes I’m ready for that.” Giggling with you, he slowly pushes himself into you, both shivering from the sensation. He’s gentle, sweet as he relentlessly places soft kisses on your neck, across your jaw, and over your cheeks. His thrusts speed up, and the kisses stop as he seems to head closer to his orgasm, bringing you along with him.

“Close?” You whimper, and he groans into your neck, nodding fast.

“So close babygirl. You?” You nod back.

“Where do you want me to come?” You lick your lips, making direct eye contact again.

“In me. Just do it.”

“Shit babe, really?” He gasps, and you nod back. Suddenly, you feel a new warmth as Chan’s release paints your insides. “Fuck you’re amazing.” He relaxes, pulling out slowly and lying himself next to you, breathing heavily. Without warning, you sit up, throwing his arm off your naked chest.

“Fuck!” He frowns, confused at your sudden outburst. “I just quit my job!”

#bang chan fluff #bang chan smut #bangchan x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #chan smut #chan x reader #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #skz imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfiction

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chaotic-mystery · 10 months

Text

On the Road Again | J.M.

ꨄ Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!reader

ꨄ Summary: it’s the morning after you stayed in a motel with Joel, so what now? Will he tell your dad you came onto him or can he keep a secret?

ꨄ CW: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI. Porn w a lil bit of plot. Road head, reader has hair long enough to pull, choking, gagging, dirty talk, roughness, no seatbelt wearing ass (pls don’t do this, I love you too much for you to not wear it) swallowing bc we aren’t quitters! slight speeding while driving, Joel miller whimpers!

ꨄ WC: 2.1K

A/N: This is part 2 to Room 77! So happy to see all the love it’s gotten, so here we go! Hope you love it. I promise next part (if you want one idk let me know) we’ll set some story up and have more plot + sexy time

“Baby, wake up. We gotta go, cmon.”

Your eyes were blinking open gradually, finally seeing Joel who was sitting next to you on the bed and stroking your hair to wake you up. The energy was different now that you weren’t strangers to each others bodies. Joel held you the whole night right against his chest, never letting go until he woke up. With not nearly enough energy, you got up to start changing and get up to speed with him so he wasn’t waiting on you. Turning your back to him as he picked up the clothes from near the bathroom, you squeezed your hand into a fist, teetering on the idea of almost hating yourself for asking this question that was sitting in your throat. “J-Joel um, are you gonna tell my dad…about last night?” The room lingered with silence and Joel ran a hand over his scraggly mustache, looking at the back of your head from across the room.

“No, darlin’ I’m not. He’d kill me and I think he’d be pretty pissed off ‘atcha. I can keep this between us if you can, deal?” His tone was serious to get his point across. The last thing you wanted to see this weekend was your dad and Joel throwing punches at each other.

“Deal. I just hope you don’t regret what happened, because I don’t, not one bit.” You tugged your shirt on and attempted to fix your beadhead before packing your other clothes back into your duffle bag. Every emotion you could think of was going through Joel’s mind at that moment. On the one hand, he was nervous that your dad would find out and think he took advantage of you, but on the other hand he was ready for more and wanted to get to know you, the real you; not the version of you your dad tells him.

Joel’s hand ghosts over your shoulder for a split second before resting it on you, thumb rubbing on your soft skin. “Angel, I don’t regret anything. I meant everything I said and did, okay? It’s gonna be hell keepin’ my hands off ya in front of your family though, pretty girl.” His hand slides down your arm to your hand and grabs it firmly, spinning you around to face him. Joel tilts your chin upwards to look at him in his dark brown eyes, the sunlight hitting one just a little from behind the curtains. Your heart felt like it was about to come right out of your chest if he continued looking into your soul the way he was. There was nothing you wanted more than to lay him down on that bed behind you and ride him until your legs gave out and your body was trembling, but you had to go before everyone got suspicious. If he were to ask you right now to say ‘fuck it’ and stay with him at the motel all weekend, you would in a heartbeat.

“We gotta go, come on bunny.” Joel kisses your forehead lightly before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. He grabbed both duffle bags and held the door open for you to leave the motel room. As you both walked to his truck, the warm air covered your body and your mind felt like it was coming clearer with every step you took. What’s going to happen when your dad sees you and you have to pretend like you didn’t just sleep with his best friend? How the hell were you going to pull off that lie? How were you going to manage three nights in the house with Joel in the other room, your mind on nothing but him?

“Ya just gonna stand there or you gonna get in so we can at least enjoy some time at the beach before the sun goes down?” Joel joked and looked at you from inside the truck, your bags already put away. You snapped out of it and grabbed the chrome handle, tugging it open to get inside. His rough fingers turned the key to start the engine and soon enough the truck was on the road flying to the direction of the vacation house. The sunglasses shielding your eyes made it easier to steal glances of Joel, the way his veiny hand gripped the steering wheel while his other hand was on the back of the seat by your head. Everything about him was sexy to you, it was hard not to stare. The way he drove with one hand, the way his curls blew in the wind, the way he squinted from the sun because he refused to wear sunglasses. Maybe it was because you slept with him or maybe you just never noticed how effortlessly he made everything seem; but he made daydreaming about him come naturally to you.

You suddenly had the idea to scoot to the middle seat and cuddle against him while you read your book, just wanting to feel him next to you. It was going to be the longest three hours if you couldn’t touch him in some way. It wasn’t going to be too long now before you had to painfully push aside the feelings and memories still fresh in your mind from last night. He was so gentle playing with your hair, you could almost still feel it. Not even asking if he was okay with it, you grabbed your book from your bag and unbuckled your seatbelt, scooting into the spot next to Joel. You leaned your back against him and propped your right leg on the seat, getting cozy while flipping to where your bookmark was. Joel coughed briefly and looked down with furrowed brows for a moment before looking back at the asphalt in front of him. “Just make yourself comfortable I ‘spose.” His deep voice vibrated through his lungs and against your back, making you smile to yourself.

“Well I have to take advantage of this while I can before I have to pretend like I don’t have bad thoughts about you coursing through my mind.” You tilted your head back until Joels head came into your view and he chuckled before kissing your head once more.

The book you cracked open to get caught up on had your interest maybe the first two hours of the drive and you were at a point you could guess how the book ends. Joel’s arm managed to wrap around your neck and have you in a comfortable headlock, keeping you close to him. The salty breeze mixed with his cologne just right, making you feel at peace, you were comfortable with him. Managing to sit up and look at Joel while your hand rested on his thigh, you got close to his ear and whispered, “How do you manage to make me want to blow you while you drive?” It was like you could see his ears perk up at your words and his eyes widened in surprise before meeting your eyes quickly. “S’that right sweet baby?” His hips lifted up to shift in his jeans as the bulge grew the more he thought about it. You dragged your nails against his thigh and traced over his cock through his pants and he whimpered your name so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.

“What was that? Speak up for me, Joel.” you teased, grabbing a handful of his bulge.

He grunted at your actions, wishing you’d stop teasing him and do what you said to him. “I bet you look so cute with somethin’ in your mouth, baby doll. Let me see how much of a good girl you can be, hm?”

You’d be lying if you said his words didn’t send your whole body into chills and excitement flooded your shorts. He knew just what to say to get you going and want to devour him like a fucking animal. With no hesitation you unzipped his jeans and plunged your hand in his boxers, greeted by his rock hard cock that was leaking precum from the slightly swollen tip. You gathered the precum in your hand and coated his cock with it as you began jerking him off, his moan echoing through the truck as a relief. “Fuck baby- that feels so goddamn good, jus’ like that.” Joel's Adams apple bobbed in his throat as he focused on the road and what your hand was doing to him.

“You’re so hot, Mr.Miller. The way you speed up the faster my hand goes up and down your cock, you’re such a filthy man. God I would kill to have you pull over and take me on the hood, leaving me dripping your cum in my shorts while I’m face to face with my family. Bet you’d love that, huh?” You were so unsure of where the sudden urge to speak such filthy thoughts in his ear came from but you weren’t mad at it. Joel was grunting and hanging on to every word, you could almost see it playing out in his head as he imagined taking you over the hood. “God dammit your voice drives me fucking crazy, you’re such a nasty lil thing- fuckkk” For a second his head tilts back before he squeezes the steering wheel tighter. Leaning down and shoving his cock in your mouth, you begin to work your tongue around the head. Pre cum was dripping out and onto your tongue and you swirled over the hole, collecting as much as you could. Joel switched hands and reached his right hand down to your head, grabbing a handful of your hair and tugged roughly while he groaned your name through gritted teeth. The rush of adrenaline made your shorts grow even wetter, squirming in your seat and dying from needing some type of relief.

Joel’s cock slammed into the back of your throat as you deep throated as much as you could, gagging and coughing over him and drool spilling everywhere. His grip on your hair tightened as he yanked your head back so you released his cock. “You keep goin’ like that and I’m gonna cum down your throat sweetheart.” He kissed you roughly, tongue forcing its way into your mouth as he kept an eye on the road. “We’ve got about ten more minutes before we get to the house, I know that’s plenty of time for you, dolly.” He kissed you once more before you made your way back to his cock, licking the bottom of the shaft all the way to the back of the head. Joel’s throaty moans filled the truck more frequently and his stomach caved with every deep breath he took.

“F-fuck baby jus’ like that, cmon jus’ like that. Nasty girl, fuckkk. Open wide for me, let me see you swallow my cum like a good girl.” Joel whimpered and his cock twitched in your mouth before his cum was shooting down the back of your throat. His hand never let go of your hair as he held you there, shouting profane words and your name mixed in there. For someone who had never gotten a blowjob on the road before he met you, he did pretty well driving and focusing on the road. Joel finally slowed down with his load and when he was milked dry, you came up and swallowed the rest as he looked you in the eyes.

Taking your thumb and wiping the corners of your mouth, he groaned at the sight of you making his load disappear inside you. “You- I’ve gotta keep my eye on you, don’t I?” A smirk of playfulness grew on his lips and you smirked, nodding in agreement. Joel came down off his high and tucked his soft cock back into his pants, looking over at you as you acted like nothing happened. The only issue was that your pussy was soaked and you needed his long tan fingers inside you or rubbing your clit but unfortunately that wasn’t going to happen right now.

The familiar house was making its way into your view and you felt at home. Joel honked the horn the entire driveway up until your dad came out, holding his arms wide open for a hug from you. Now you weren’t close with your dad, but he was kind enough to offer you the invitation to come. Was it all that special though if he was extending it for his friends to come? Joel got out and greeted your dad before grabbing the suitcases from the bed of the truck. You had to mentally prepare for this and it was not easy. Joel didn’t make it easy to act like nothing happened.

“You wouldn’t believe the fuckin’ rain we got caught in last night. Had to pull over and stay at a motel until it let up.” Your eyes darted to the gravel under your shoes as you walked up to your dad and hugged him. “Yeah it was insane but I’m glad Joel was with me.” Your dads smile froze and he blinked at Joel, who did not dare look at you.

“Separate rooms I hope?” Not wanting anything to be left for questioning, you and Joel answered almost too quickly over and over with yes. “Well come on in! I’m just grilling some meat for dinner!” Your dad hollered and walked back up the white wooden deck and disappeared inside. A deep sigh of relief came from both you and Joel and he placed your suitcase next to you with the handle up. “You heard him, let’s go bunny.” Joel mocked and smacked your ass to give you some pep in your step. This was going to be a fun weekend.

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