#this AU is running wild and that's fine by me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eoieopda · 9 months

Text

tidal.

but vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “i don’t need a sales pitch. you will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”

pairing: vernon x afab!reader type: one-shot (fluff n’ smut) au: est. relationship wc: 4.8k rating: 18+ a/n: i didn’t plan this whatsoever, but i felt so weirdly compelled to write it that i avoided eye-contact with all of my wips, and now… here we are, lol. cw: pov switch, reader is afab + on their period, gender identity + pronouns aren’t designated, blood mention (obvi), unprotected p in v penetration (ill-advised!!), wee bit of dry-humping (ig?), a lil massage, pet names (baby, sweetheart), self-indulgent ref to a favorite docu of mine, and lastly — vernon (yes, this is a warning 🧍🏻) 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

Vernon isn’t blind.

He can see you out of the corner of his eye, laying flat on your back, several unexplained centimeters away from his side. With the duvet clenched in your fists, you stare intently up at the ceiling, like you’re waiting for it to move — or trying to move it yourself, telekinetically. You keep your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, as if you expect it to make a run for it.

So, yes, Vernon can see you.

He just can’t figure out what’s wrong with you.

For a few minutes, he attempts to pay attention to the documentary lighting up the screen on the wall ahead. You were the one that picked it — some wild tale about mother-daughter recluses in New York — and he finds it hard to give a shit about it without your usual commentary. Your hot takes are his favorite part of any movie night, after all.

He’ll be the first to admit that he’s never been good at keeping his eyes off you. Try as he might, he can’t glue his gaze to the television; each glance in your direction sticks longer than the one before it, testing the waters. Minutes slip away just like this until he completely caves, turns his head fully, and stares at you outright.

You still don’t seem to notice.

His brow scrunches up as he watches you, caught in the middle between concerned, confused, and amused by how absolutely ridiculous you look right now. When he speaks, he tries to sound stern, like he isn’t fighting the urge to laugh.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” is all he gets in response.

You don’t even look his way. If anything, you tense harder now that his attention is on you.

None of it makes sense. Not the weird gap you’ve left between your body and his, your total refusal to look him in the eye, or the fact that there wasn’t an argument to precipitate any of this distance. It’s a symptom with no apparent cause, and it’s totally baffling. Brain-breaking, even.

Frowning, Vernon scoots himself across the bed to get closer to you.

You don’t reciprocate.

He tugs gently at the hem of your sweatshirt in a silent plea for your attention and receives radio silence in response; unless he counts the way you swallow thickly.

Which, for the record, he does not.

This close, Vernon can feel the anxious energy pulsing out of your tensed-up body in waves, so he leans away and props himself up on his elbow. Desperate to know what broke you and how to fix it, he mutters, “What is happening right now?”

Ope.

It comes out harsher than it was supposed to, reading more like annoyance than worry, so he immediately clears his throat. Gently and with a brush of his knuckles against your hip bone, he tries again: “Are you okay? Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

A fly on the wall might get the wrong impression and think he stroked you with a live wire instead.

“Oh, my god. No!” You sputter with a jolt, shifting gears quickly from vaguely on-edge to horrified. You shake your head so frantically that Vernon fears you’ll detach it. “No, you haven’t done anything. I’m fine, I just —”

He interjects with a laugh, “— I don’t necessarily believe that —”

Visibly cringing with every muscle in your body, you cover your face with your hands. Not long after you take a deep breath does a meek voice slip out through your fingers, sounding beyond embarrassed.

“I’m so incomprehensibly horny right now that I can’t even look at you.”

For a second, it’s dead silent because he can’t quite process how much of a weirdo you are, or how completely and hopelessly enamored he is with you. But then the dam breaks. His laugh comes out so forcefully that you pull your hands away from your face, eyes wide.

“Is that so?” He smirks, nodding his head towards the television. “Grey Gardens really gets your motor running, huh?”

Absolutely aghast, you swat at his bicep. Then, you sling your arm over your eyes and groan, “I got my period. It has turned me into a sex-crazed monster, I fear.”

Vernon nods in understanding, even though you can’t see it, and hums, “Ahh.”

And he leaves it at that, only because you seem to have more that you want to say. Something you want to ask, maybe, or a reason you may want to give for not jumping his bones at the first opportunity. He’s down, he thinks without hesitation, so long as you are.

But you don’t say anything.

Maybe you aren’t actually down after all, and that’s why you won’t look at him. Shit, are you embarrassed? Should I say something? Silence falls overtop like a weighted blanket, smothering the two idiots who can’t tell whose turn it is to talk.

Do you or do you not want this right now?

You mumble something that he can’t catch, so he nudges your side gently with his knuckles to encourage you. Just as nervous, you repeat yourself without looking at him, “Period sex is supposed to help with cramps, I think.”

He thinks he’s read the exact same article you have. More than that, he wishes you’d look over at him and see for yourself how completely unbothered he is by this concept.

“If you think about it, it’s kind of like a natural lubricant,” you add in a voice that’s even smaller than before.

Your shyness really might kill him, so he reaches over to grab your hand and gently pull your arm away from your eyes. It’s the first time you’ve looked at him since you laid down — since you put your self-imposed no-contact order in place — and he feels his stupid heart swell.

For what it’s worth, he feels his dick twitch, too.

You open your mouth to speak again, likely to continue your unnecessary campaigning; Vernon is having none of it. He tugs your wrist just enough to tilt you inward, then he kisses you hard enough to shut you up. A tiny whimper slips out of your lips when he pulls away, and it almost makes him regret his decision to do so.

But Vernon has a point to make, so that’s precisely what he does: “I don’t need a sales pitch. You will never — ever — have to convince me to fuck you.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners, like this is somehow news to you. It shouldn’t be. He’s told you a thousand times in as many different ways how thoroughly crazy you drive him just by existing so closely to him, but maybe you didn’t take him seriously then.

To emphasize his point, he slips his hand under the hem of your sweatshirt and finds your bare waist with the pad of his thumb. It spirals slowly against your warm skin, making both of you dizzy. Then, sick of the distance, Vernon dips his head down to press a kiss to your temple.

“Like, ever,” he murmurs, lips following the curve of your jaw.

Soft, slow kisses trail behind him as he travels down to your lips. Your head tilts further backwards with every single one, providing him with more and more access.

He states it matter-of-factly because, to him, it is. “I’m down so bad for you that it might be terminal.”

“Oh?”

You try to laugh but turn to putty when his palm rests fully on the curve of your waist and pulls you flush against him. The surprised gasp you let loose confirms his suspicion: You can feel how serious he is, affirmation throbbing against your abdomen in time with his heartbeat.

Vernon smirks to himself, relishing your reaction, and bypasses your mouth entirely. A moan escapes from you, soft like an exhale, as his lips move slowly down the length of your neck. Every so often — just to feel you shiver — he flicks the tip of his tongue along the delicate skin he finds there.

“It might be messy…”

The rest of your needless warning gets lost in a dreamy sigh as he suckles at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. Shifting even closer, your desperate fingers reach out and cling to his t-shirt.

Vernon licks a stripe over the galaxy blooming on your skin. He hums, hand traveling upwards from your waist, “Don’t care about a mess.”

And he means it.

Mindful of any soreness, he smooths his hand over your left breast and massages it tenderly, swearing to himself that he’ll throw the whole fucking mattress out if that’s what it comes down to. For you, he’ll race across town on foot to buy another one, and — fuck it — if the store is closed, he might just break in.

You’re growing impatient; your fingers let go of his shirt and tangle themselves in his hair.

“So needy,” he chuckles low in his chest, teasing. “You know, I think you’re lying. I think it is this bat-shit insane documentary that’s driving you wild, and you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“Stop,” you whine, dragging out the vowel sound.

You don’t, though; you throw your left leg over his right thigh and shimmy forward until your cunt grazes his dick. Involuntarily, he groans at the warmth radiating off your core. Every part of you drives him just the slightest bit insane. You seem to know it, he thinks as he watches your pupils dilate in real time.

But he can play games, too, so he rolls his hips forward and grinds against you. He pushes you further, “Don’t get me wrong, baby. I’m not kink-shaming you —”

“Hansol Vernon Chwe!”

Oh, shit. Government name?

“— I’m just a little surprised, I guess.” He sighs with a shrug. “Think you know somebody…”

Your impatience is scribbled all across your scrunched up face. It seeps into your voice when you crash back against the pillows and huff, “Can you please stop fucking with me and start fucking me?”

“Sex-crazed monster, huh?” Leaning over, Vernon punctuates his question with a quick press of his lips to yours.

You whimper, “I’m so serious. I might explode.”

“Then go take care of whatever you need to take care of.” He kisses you again, smiling so fondly that his eyes may even be twinkling. “And I’ll go get a towel.”

You wait until Vernon clears the threshold before launching yourself out of bed at breakneck speed. Stumbling all the while, you race off to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door forcefully behind you. When it clatters against the frame, you finally admit to yourself that you might be a little bit eager.

Maybe.

Opting to keep your baggy, bleach-stained sweatshirt on, you wiggle out of your shorts and — what he refers to as — your crisis diaper. The high-waisted, frumpy, beige panties are utilized exclusively during your period, and to your surprise, they’ve remained spotless. It’s only ever the pretty and expensive pairs that wind up as collateral damage, isn’t it?

As they pool around your ankles, you can’t help but think that Vernon’s nickname for them is pretty spot on. That’s partly why you figured he might need to be talked into this. Unsated arousal aside, you feel as far from sexy as you can possibly get.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, kick what you’ve discarded into a pile near the hamper, and let your sweatshirt shift down to cover as much of your ass as it’s capable of managing. You grab a square of toilet paper; then, you go to work excavating the wad of cotton that separates you from everything you want in this life.

It is within the realm of possibility that you’re a little bit eager and a little bit dramatic.

Perhaps.

After discarding the evidence in the small trash can under the sink, you wash your hands as if you’re about to step into an operating theater and not the bedroom you spend half your life in. When you finally feel sterile, you lift your head and catch your reflection in the mirror. Instantly, you make eye contact with the painful, hormonal pimple on your chin — the one you’ve been waging a retinoid war against for days.

“Bitch,” you mutter, like calling it names will be the one thing that finally gets it to shrink. Of course, your plan doesn’t work, but you feel a little less powerless. That’s good enough, you think. At least, as good as it’s going to get.

Now half-naked and certifiably unobstructed, you tiptoe back to your bedroom much more carefully than you left it. Vernon enters from the opposite doorway at the same time, jumping slightly the second he notices you. You ignore his frightened eyes and glance down at the crisp, white towel he’s clutching.

You open your mouth to suggest anything otherwise, but he beats you to it. His eyebrows shoot up his forehead as his mouth widens outwards, a self-aware rectangle. Otherwise expressionless, he lets go of an atonal, “Aaaaaaah”, that tells you he’s caught on.

He says nothing else before turning around and walking back the way he came. You have to bite down on your lips to keep from cackling.

That one’s mine, you think, still as infatuated as you were at the start. I chose that one.

While he’s gone, you try not to move, not to breathe too heavily. Vernon said he didn’t care about a mess, but when he said it, he was speaking theoretically with his hand on your tit. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d spoken recklessly with your body melting under his touch.

As far as you know, he hasn’t had any experience with this mess in practice. He could wind up finding you about as sexy as you currently feel — to wit: not at all. So, erring on the side of caution, you turn yourself into a statue and wait for the boy and his towel to find you again.

When he comes back, he plants a drive-by kiss on your unsuspecting mouth before skirting right around you. With shocking finesse, he grabs the corners of the — thankfully — black towel, which unfurls in the seconds before he flicks it upwards. It lands perfectly in the center of the bed, flat without needing to be fussed with.

“Wow,” he mutters to himself, taking in his clean work with raised eyebrows.

The impressed look is still on his face when he turns around, but you don’t have time to comment on his feat because he laughs as soon as he sees you.

“Kinda look like Donald Duck with the whole top-on, bottom-off situation.”

I chose this one?

You pout with an indignant gasp, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not wearing a sailor hat, so…. bad analogy. Rude, even.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you in close. You stumble a little on your way into him; the jury’s still out about whether it’s his hushed tone or the sudden movement that trips you up.

Between his thumb and index finger, he gently captures your chin. You follow along with his unspoken direction, tilt your face up to meet his. This close, you can see your own reflection in his pupils, black dilating against the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen.

Vernon takes a moment of silence as he takes in your features, and he studies them so intently that his eyebrows crinkle on their own. He sighs, sounding so completely serious. “You might get prettier every time I look at you.”

It’s unclear if you’re melting, or gushing; and if it’s the latter, you can’t say which biological process is at fault. Thankfully, the hand at the small of your back keeps your weak knees from buckling when his lips brush over yours.

“Even if you’re dressed like Winnie the Pooh.”

You feel him smirk even before you hear him laugh at his own joke. Then, you feel his hand slide down to cup your bare cheek, squeezing affectionately. You want to tell him that this analogy is still inaccurate because you’re not wearing a crop-top; but he gently instructs you to ditch the sweatshirt and get on the bed, and your body moves automatically. No questions asked.

Carefully, you crawl up onto the mattress, then you center yourself on the towel. Still on your knees, you tilt your head curiously and ask, “Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere,” he breezes, pulling his shirt off and tossing it onto the dresser nearby. He amends, “Everywhere. All the time, and then some.”

“Better be careful,” you tease. “Talking like that might have consequences. You may never be able to get rid of me.”

His joggers are the next to go. Your sanity follows shortly thereafter, hungry eyes lingering on the imprint of his cock underneath his boxer briefs. You have to clamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.

Brown eyes sparkling, he steps closer to you, kicking his pants aside as he goes. “Be careful,” he echoes, not a hint of cockiness to be found — just softness. “Saying it like a threat doesn’t make me wish it’s not a promise.”

I choose this one.

Crossing all the way to you, Vernon reaches the bed and climbs up with significantly more grace than you did. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels right in front of you, mirroring your posture and causing your stomach to flip with anticipation.

You can’t help yourself; you lick your lips and look up at him with half-lidded eyes. “Naked, please. Like, right now.”

“Damn, I gotta do this myself?” Incredulous, he holds his hands up while glancing pointedly down at his underwear, then back at you.

You arch an eyebrow, unfazed.

“Depends.” You shrug. “Do you want to keep them? Because I really will rip them off of you.”

He concedes quickly; he always does. Sighing, he shakes his head and tuts, “Sex-crazed monster,” before pushing his briefs down his thighs. His length hangs heavy between you, but you swear you can feel its perfect ache inside you already.

You have a one-track mind, so you don’t hesitate to reach out and wrap your hand around him. A groan crawls up from the bottom of your chest when you feel the weighted warmth of his cock in your palm. You don’t hold that back, either.

“Fuck,” he sighs, head tilting as far backwards as it’ll go. Unexpectedly, he laughs. He doesn’t catch the quizzical look you shoot him, though he explains himself anyway, “Your hands are so fucking cold, but it feels so good.”

Swiping your thumb over his tip, you spread the pre-cum you find there down his shaft and stroke him slowly. He grows harder with every gentle squeeze, every pass of your fist.

“We’re learning a lot of new shit about each other today.” You lean forward to pepper kisses across his collarbones. The hum of your mouth against his skin when you talk makes his cock twitch in your hand. “You might have a temperature kink and a thing for Winnie the Pooh.”

He snorts, nowhere near serious, “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me,” you counter smugly, and you do mean it.

Vernon tilts his head forward to stare back at you. You’re already turning into a puddle, but if the look he gives you says anything, it’s that your melting isn’t enough for him. His voice is low and velvet-lined when he responds, “How about I just make you cum instead?”

“That could work, yeah.” You shrug.

He runs the pads of his fingers down each side of your waist to your hips, then back again; and each time he does it, you shiver. Reflexively, your back arches, chest pressing against his.

At this, he smirks, “It could? Maybe?”

“We can workshop it.”

“Or,” Vernon so generously offers, “You can turn around and lay down on your stomach. You know, if that’s sufficient.”

It’s not until you whip around and flop down onto the towel that you realize you never responded with words. Oh well. You figure he gets the point, judging by the quiet laughter you hear as he settles with his knees on either side of your upper thighs.

You don’t know what his next move will be — you don’t care, either, as long as he moves in your direction — so you don’t anticipate his palms flattening against your bare back, applying perfect pressure with his thumbs while he rubs away the soreness at the very base of your torso.

“Oh, shit,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut as the heels of his hands work out the tension in your muscles. “Have you always been good at this?”

You feel his chest brush against your shoulder blades when he hovers over you. Against the nape of your neck, he murmurs, “Nope.”

He kisses down your spine, mouth trailing after his hands as they work their way back down your body.

“Lemme guess — you read an article? Studied up?”

You get a snicker, then an affirmative hum, then another kiss. This time, it’s at the curve of your spine, just above your ass. Seconds later, he’s kneading the doughy flesh of your cheeks until your whole fucking body tingles.

That’s when it hits you:

Under normal circumstances, Vernon would be face-first in your pussy by now. Devouring you in earnest, like he’s starving. He can’t do that now — and you don’t blame him — so he’s making up for what you both view as a loss.

God, you want him.

One hand disappears from you, but you don’t have to guess where it went. You can hear the barely-there hiss of breath through his teeth when he takes his cock in that hand; as well as the very faint shift of his palm while he pumps himself.

“You’re gonna have to navigate, baby. I dunno how sensitive you are like this, what’s too much — any of that, so you need to tell me how you want me to move.”

Suddenly dizzy over how badly you need him, all you can muster is a nod. Vernon must want a verbal acknowledgment, though, because he leans back over you with one hand bearing his weight beside your head.

He kisses your shoulder and urges you, “Please say so if you need to stop or switch it up. Don’t wanna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“I will,” you breathe. “But I can’t even articulate how much I need you inside of me right now, so please — pretty please — fuck me.”

The tip of his nose bumps your temple affectionately. Right beside your ear, he teases, “With a cherry on top?” And it vibrates down your whole goddamn spine.

“Vernon!” You whine, burying your face in the comforter. It’s muffled, but you warn him nonetheless, “Don’t make me come back there.”

“Aish. Calm down, sex monster.”

The instinct to twist around and glare at him over your shoulder is strong, but every feral urge you feel is stronger. So, when he tells you to spread yourself open for him and tilt your hips back, you do so without even a hint of complaining.

With the crown of his cock slipping through your folds, inching towards your entrance, you hear him curse under his breath. Suddenly self-conscious, you finally crane your neck to the side and glance back at him.

“We don’t have to,” you whisper. “If it’s gross and you don’t want to anymore, I get it —”

He balks at your suggestion without letting so much as a beat pass. “None of that, sweetheart; no spiraling. I’m just trying to figure out the logistics of, like… how to survive how good this already feels.”

Struck dumb, all you can muster is a peep, “Oh?”

“Shit, yeah.” His response comes in a low groan. “Can you take a deep breath for me?”

It’s a good call on his part, a suggestion you’re glad to have taken, because the pressure of him entering you is intense enough to knock the wind out of you. Empty lungs likely would’ve led to your untimely demise.

You whimper, already overwhelmed with the combination of pain and pleasure; the best kind of ache. The little, breathy moans must freak him out, however, because his fingertips caress your waist as he checks in: “This okay?”

Your limp arm lifts off the mattress, which you’ve melted fully into, and you form a circle with your index finger and thumb to indicate that you’re okay. The light is bright fucking green; you’ve just maxed out your capacity for speech.

Vernon continues his slow thrust forward, giving you ample time to adjust to his size.

“Oh my god,” he grunts, “This is — shit, I can’t believe we haven’t done this before. If I knew how good you’d feel like this, I wouldn’t have waited around for you to ask me.”

That hits like a truck.

He was waiting on you.

You spent months convincing yourself that he’d need to be convinced, and chickening out before you could raise the idea. Months, and months, and months, of craving him during your werewolf transformation; wasting away over a shitty assumption that Vernon is anything like the people you’ve been with before.

Christ.

His credit for putting up with you is long overdue.

Too tongue-tied to speak any of that out loud, you settle for a summary that you hope conveys the message: “I love you so fucking much.”

Mindful of how deep it will push him into your cunt, he leans down over you carefully. Weight balanced on his knees and forearms, he envelopes you in his body heat, trails kisses across your shoulder, and echoes your words back at you between each one.

“Is this too much?” He whispers, rolling his hips slowly.

You feel him everywhere, with every drag of his cock along your walls; and you can’t tell where that throbbing sensation is coming from, him or you.

You shake your head and sigh, “‘s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Like he knows it’ll unravel you, his large hand comes to rest over the back of yours. His fingers slip through the spaces between and squeeze you much more gently than the vice grip you hold on the bedding below you. He keeps holding you — just like this — through every movement.

The sensation of being this surrounded, this loved, this whole crashes over you like a wave and knocks you off balance.

“I’m so close,” you pant, voice as ragged as your breathing. There’s nothing that he isn’t already giving you with every deep, deliberate thrust into your heat; but you beg nonetheless, “Please, please, please —”

His speed doesn’t increase, but the intensity does. The smack of his hips colliding with your ass does, too, and you feel it reverberating in your bones. Buried as far inside of you as he can be, cock tip kissing your cervix with every high tide, length rolling across your g-spot with every low.

You cum so hard — so completely, invoking every single muscle you have — that you forget how to breathe. With a choked-out gasp, you squeeze your eyes shut and let your orgasm devastate you.

“Fuck!”

Vernon gets caught up in the current, too, grinding desperately against you until he’s swept up in your wake. You feel him twitch inside you as his release floods, leaving you so lost in his warmth that you feel boneless underneath him.

His face winds up hidden in the crook of your neck, somewhere amidst the baby hairs that cling to the sheen of your sweat. You feel his lips fluttering against your skin when he laughs, “Oh…my god.”

“Mmphf.” You nod weakly in agreement. Beyond blissed, your body still tingles too much to move.

Slurring, you add, “‘s good. ‘s really…”

The rest of that thought dissolves into something between a moan and a yawn.

Just as tired, Vernon pats your ass cheek affectionately and mumbles, “Well said. No notes.”

You tilt your head far enough to free your face from the sheets. When you do, you find your boyfriend fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. In the rare seconds he can, he looks back at you in a daze that seems even more adoring than it does fuck-drunk.

“I think I need to hibernate now,” you announce. “Think you just fucked me so well that I need to take a sabbatical.”

He counter-offers, “Shower first, then sabbatical?”

You wiggle so that you can pull your joint hands to your mouth. You can’t kiss him properly while he’s laid out on top of you, but you can press your lips to the back of his hand and hope he feels how much of you that you pour into it.

“Okay, but, like…. who’s carrying who?”

1K notes · View notes

atyourmerci · 3 months

Text

✩Your Galaxy✩

✩ ✩

Abby Anderson / Mandolorian AU

Summary: Abby as a Mandolorian. No specific relationship to reader yet (will obv get into if this turns into a fic).

Warnings: smut, MDNI, some fluff holy fuck Madda wrote fluff?? Fingering, cunnilingus, switch!abby, switch!reader, cannon typical violence, no y/n, only description of reader is having hair, making up shit about space and Star Wars uni that I don’t know!!!it’s fine!!!

A/N: hey babies, so I’ve been sittingggg on this idea for a sec and idk if it will gel with you guys so pls lmk if this would be something you’re interested in. I guess this is a blurb?? If you wanna see it turn into a fic pls let me know:))

✩ ✩

Mando!abby who takes off her gloves so she can feel how wet you really are, even when you promise her.

Mando!abby who let’s you trace your fingers along her face in the darkness of the night so you can imagine what she truly looks like. The first time you weren’t expecting her vulnerability, she had just fucked you senseless as you laid there heaving when she pulled your shaky fingertips to her defined face, allowing you to let them roam freely.

Mando!abby who took her helmet off for the first time when you were laid inbetween her thighs, lapping at her swollen clit. She wanted you to hear her pathetic whimpers that no one else had. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly when you heard the rustling of the helmet come off, but she trusted you… “k- keep going baby I- jus’ wanna watch you”

Mando!abby who couldn’t help but to admit her real name with you as she had you bent over her bed, helmet off heavy breathed over the shell of your ear, driving her soaked fingers into your needy cunt. “F-fuck Mando…” you pathetically breathe out, muffled by the thin white fabric of her bed. “Abby,” Mando remarked flatly. It took you aback at the unrecognizable name, your body froze as your mind raced, did she call you the wr- “call me abby,” she corrects herself. A guttural breath you didn’t notice you were holding escapes your lips. Abby…Abby. A delicate name for the otherwise ruthless murderer. The name swirled aimlessly in your mind over and over again…abby.

Mando!abby who’s secret you knew. She was able to go unrecognized as a woman in her field, tweaking her modulator so her voice came out husky, her build making her larger and more threatening than any other mandolorian you had seen before. She didn’t want them to treat her differently, think less of her ability. You accidentally stumbled upon her well held secret when she came back to the ship with a gash across her abdomen. She tried hiding it from you, but it came up so close on her chest you unknowingly forced it out of her. You froze at the sight of her black bra peeking under her tunic, cheeks flushed. “Don’t say a fucking word,” she bit under her breath. You internally pulled yourself together with your new found information on the mysterious killer, wild eyed averting your gaze back to her cover eyes, eyes that you’ll never see. “Okay.” You said with an attempt at confidence. An attempt at reassurance. She had no reason to trust your word, but she did.

Mando!abby who insists on showering your body even if the lights are on. A stupid fucking ship. If the shower was running the lights had to be on. This was an automatic off zone for you when things started with you and abby. Not only could you see her face, but her entire body would be revealed to you in the intimate space of the well-lit shower. Her body that you had only seen bits and pieces of in desperate, heavy breathed moments, but never her face. But when you had returned from a rather brutal hunt, blood caked in your hair, she insisted to clean you off. “B-but abby-“ before you can protest she began removing your blood soaked clothing out of your sight behind you, “just close your eyes, I’ll stand behind you. I’m not leaving you by yourself for another moment,” the tang of her sweet voice fluttered your ears, unmarked by the hardness of the modulated voice of her visor.

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed

#abby anderson #the last of us #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #the mandolarian #mando fanfiction #mando smut #abby anderson tlou2 #sub abby #abby angst

420 notes · View notes

petit-etoile · 6 months

Note

Oh oh I have an AU I haven't had the chance to write anything for. It's pre-vampirism magistrate Astarion and criminal tav who is incredibly well-versed in law. They keep committing crimes and getting caught in purpose just to see Astarion who fucking hates their guts because he can't ever convict them of anything bc they find loopholes and somehow manage to evade the law. It's an "at each other's throats" kinda romance and they kiss with teeth between cases

darling, if you love me say it back

pairing . ⊱ astarion x tav wordcount . ⊱ 3,604 content warnings . ⊱ canon compliant temporary character death, tav isn't a human but can be whatever else you like, astarion isn't a vampire yet, tav is gender neutral other tags . ⊱ canon compliant, canon temporary character death, introspection, p.orn without plot, oral s/ex, desk s.ex, inappropriate use of a cravat, c.reampie archiveofourown . ⊱ here.

taglist . ⊱ @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene be added . ⊱ here .

summary . ⊱ The Magistrate Judge Astarion Ancunin has a soft spot for you. You like to exploit that fact.

‘I need to see you in my office,’ Astarion hisses — and the tips of his ears are so red you think they might catch flame. He grabs you by the elbow roughly and tugs. ‘Now.’

‘Let’s do it, baby,’ you say smugly. ‘I know the law.’

Knowing the law might be an overstatement. You have studied the law for only one purpose, and that purpose you know like the back of your hand. So when Astarion presses you, you don’t argue. You do as the magistrate says and allow yourself to be dragged across the court. He admonishes you like one would get onto a dog who misbehaves. You can’t help but laugh.

It isn’t like Astarion isn’t a super serious magistrate with a focus on criminal prosecution. He wants to nail you for your sins, for your crimes. The only catch is that no matter how amazing Astarion is at his job, you’re simply better. If you’ve stolen something, you’re more than capable of hiding the evidence. If you’ve murdered someone, you know all the best ways to hide a body. It comes naturally.

Astarion is wearing that ever familiar frown as he marches through the elegant halls. It’s a frown that says you’re in trouble and there’s nothing that I can do. But that isn’t necessarily true. Astarion will do anything you ask so long as you ask nicely, and you’ve been getting good at asking nicely lately. He prides himself in training you even if it isn’t that simple. He calls it rehabilitation. You call it sex.

‘You can’t keep doing this, you know,’ Astarion snaps at you. ‘At some point you must give it up!’

He isn’t good at whispering when he’s riled up. He runs his free hand through his curls in anger, pushing them away from his face like his bangs being wild make it hard to think. It makes him more attractive.

‘You don’t mean that,’ you say with a shrug.

‘I do,’ he says, ‘very much mean that.’

You grin. ‘You would miss me,’ you tell him lasciviously, and he groans. ‘I know you would.’

He huffs. ‘The only thing that I would miss is the peace after the headache you’ve given me. It’s as though you aren’t even aware of how vexing you are.’

You laugh, and the fine line of Astarion’s temper snaps. He all but throws you in his office and locks it behind him. He’s annoyed with the way you stagger dramatically to one of the velvet couches before his desk. You lean over the arm and kick your feet up.

‘Does the idea of cuffs around my wrists excite you?’

You look over your shoulder. Astarion clenches his jaw. It must hurt to frown as hard as he is. You pull yourself onto the cushions and sit demurely. You study him. His rigid lines, tense gaze. He comes and sits on the edge of his desk, pressing his forehead into his hands as if that will relieve him of his headache. You’re determined to make it worse.

‘I apologize,’ you say sweetly. ‘I’ll behave from now on.’

‘We both know that you are not capable of behaving,’ Astarion says thinly.

He shouldn’t have said that. You can’t help yourself, but most of the time, Astarion makes it so easy for you to dig into his weaknesses and exploit them. You stare at him with wide, innocent eyes.

‘You should teach me,’ you suggest.

Astarion’s patience snaps. ‘I beg your pardon? Have some decorum, please!’

‘Having decorum is so boring,’ you say, pouting. ‘Life is much more fun when you live freely.’

‘And committing crimes is your definition of living freely?’

‘What is the point of living if not to live?’ you ask. ‘Why confine myself to rules of good or bad when I can choose what makes me happy.’

‘What exactly makes a criminal like you happy?’ Astarion asks bitterly.

You’ve always been possessed by a sense of otherness. You rise from the couch and carefully twist your fingers in his cravat, tangling yourself in him as he has become entangled in you. The Silverymoon lace tickles your skin. You pull Astarion closer and he begrudgingly caves to your strength. Your lips barely brush against his and already you can sense it. The barely contained restraint. The hunger. Astarion longs for you. He’s carefully hidden it beneath the scent of bergamot.

Slowly, you slide him free of what pressures him most. The cravat slides from his neck easily. It excites Astarion. His eyes glitter like you’ve never seen before. Being a magistrate isn’t about caring about the laws he’s vowed to uphold. It’s about power. You give it to him. You hold your wrists together with a wicked grin.

You balance the fabric on your fingers. Astarion swallows. Being proper isn’t really his thing. It’s thrilling to watch as he changes his mind. You annoy him — he detests you, wishes you gone. You are the object of all his improper late night dreams.

But as if he’s moving through water, he takes his cravat from your hands. You almost think it’s going to be a rejection. Astarion bundles your wrists together with an expertise that suggests he’s done it before. The binding becomes tight but not too tight and you relish in the way it twists your wrists. He fastens the knot into a pretty bow.

And then he kisses you. He grabs you so roughly by the back of the neck that your teeth slam together, but Astarion sighs so prettily against your mouth you decide you could withstand anything.

It’s a passionate kiss made up of teeth and spit and tongue. Astarion is both pushing you and pulling you. He can’t make up his mind. Does he want you and the stain you’ll bring to his reputation? A magistrate with a weakness for a criminal is such an interesting dynamic, but Astarion is a proud man. You are almost certain he would throw you into harm’s way if a situation ever occurred that deemed it necessary. You would do the same given the chance. This is simply a tryst.

You like to pretend it is, at least. You hate coming across as a romantic. You chase a freedom so exquisite no one will ever understand it, but when Astarion pushes you towards the couch, you don’t complain. You fall across the cushions with ease and catch him as he falls between your thighs.

‘You,’ Astarion accuses hotly, ‘are an irrevocable annoyance I may never be cured of.’

‘You are so very frank in all the ways you despise me,’ you say, moaning softly as he kisses your neck. ‘I think you’re capable of being freed after all.’

‘I am glad to see you are finally aware that it is hate that drives me,’ Astarion murmurs thickly. ‘It repulses me that you think you could possibly be endearing.’

You laugh and Astarion sucks a bruise into your collarbone. He’ll pretend to be aloof and noncommittal to your very presence, but he’s invested. You can feel the weight of his pleasure against your thighs even as he denies his feelings for you. Astarion doesn’t bother with your shirt or his own. He clings to your waist as he finds the lace of your breeches and tugs you free.

Astarion pushes his hand inside of your smallclothes and touches your flushed skin, spreading his fingers so that he can touch every inch your body has to offer. The fervor of the motion is what causes you to gasp. He’s a man on a mission, and he touches you at your core so adoringly it makes the bite of his words all but disappear. He fondles you like he’s never touched your skin before. Your gasp turns to a sultry whine, and he bites your neck like a punishment. You almost think he’s going to admonish you, that he’ll say your silence is worth more. He doesn’t. If anything, the echo of your voice spurns him to go further.

Astarion presses two fingers inside of you and the laughter dies in your chest. He’s trying to rearrange you through a perverse method. If he fucks you good enough, crime’s appeal will turn to dust within your mind. It makes you wonder what it would be like to dote on a magistrate. Would it be enough? Could it be enough? Sinning feels just as sweet.

He curls his fingers against your core and your back arches prettily off the velvet cushions. You bite your bottom lip and try to quell the pining, but then you catch a glimpse of him from beneath your eyelashes. Astarion is watching your every move. His lips are parted. His pupils are dilated. His cheeks have colored at the sound of your voice. He is torn between watching your face for your reactions and glancing down at his hand underneath your breeches. You meet his gaze bravely, chin lifting, and smile.

He adds another just to watch you struggle. The angle, the curve of his wrist, and the situation are enough to make your thighs squeeze together, but Astarion doesn’t let you. He roughly throws himself between your legs so that you can’t, and it’s hot, too hot that you cry weakly. He grins at the sound like he always does, like he always will. It’s his victory this evening.

But as quickly as Astarion deigned to touch you, he releases you. He stands up and drags you by the wrists, turning his cheek the other way when you try to taste his skin.

‘The prosecutor is ineffectual — ’

You snort without meaning to, and Astarion digs his fingers into the swell of your hip. You allow him to maneuver you, bending at the waist while he presses you forward, chest against the chilled wood of his desk. You have to rise on your toes to stand comfortably.

‘Is that what you’re thinking about?’ you ask breathlessly.

‘I’m thinking about the necessary reform,’ Astarion snaps.

You press your cheek into the wood and stare at his door. The prosecutor, the defense. It doesn’t really matter, does it? Astarion is the only one who cares. You’re somewhat glad he does. It means he’s taken your case to interest, and when he presses himself to your lower back, you’re excited. He shoves your breeches to your ankles.

‘Are you going to take me here?’ you murmur. ‘On your desk. Where is your propriety?’

‘You dare speak to me of decency?’ Astarion snorts.

‘The weight of my sins will be forever embedded on your desk,’ you say. ‘You flatter me, your honor.’

‘Do you ever stop talking?’ Astarion asks. You can hear his patience snapping.

‘Well, you’re just so boring,’ you say, laughing. ‘Why don’t you do something that — ’

Astarion kneels down behind you and shoves his way between your legs. You shiver when he presses his lips against your core. He mouths at you hungrily. He grunts low in the back of his throat and digs his nails into your thighs. It steals your breath away. He’s so determined to change the very essence of your being that his tongue and mouth searching where his fingers first were makes you go weak in the knees. You whine.

You press your fingers into the dark, rich mahogany of his desk and try to keep focus. You want to taunt him. You want to tease him, but that wanton desire is almost forgotten entirely by the way Astarion feasts upon your flesh. He parts you with his thumbs and groans against your skin and you almost forget who you are. This is what he wanted. He wanted to pull your desires from you and replace them with his own.

You let him. He works you up as easily as anyone can be worked up, his fingers and his mouth exploring every inch of your skin that’s exposed. He goes to slide a finger in curiously, but you twist your hips away. Astarion is all work and no play. He will tease you relentlessly as it suits him, and he will do what interests him. You interest him more than he’s willing to confess. That’s why he works so hard for your pleasure.

When he’s done with you, he kisses the base of your spine soothingly. Your legs tremble beneath you. Astarion smooths his hand across your hip. You glance at him.

‘Perhaps I can fuck some sense into you now,’ Astarion mumbles.

He has the audacity to sound inquisitive. It’s not like it’s possible, but he seems determined enough to try it out regardless of his intuition. His hands are warm against your skin, and the excitement only builds in the pit of your stomach as you feel Astarion’s skin touch yours. You hear his clothes rustle and his breath catch in his throat. You hide a smile against your arm.

When Astarion slides into your core, it’s like a possession. The breath steals from your lungs. His touch is a familiar constant — you would recognize him anywhere by scent alone. You cry weakly. Your toes crunch from the angle, but there’s nothing you want more at this moment than to learn to be good.

Astarion hums behind you as well, his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to steady himself. The desk crunches uncomfortably against your belly but it’s a welcome pain. It keeps you focused. You still have the energy to wiggle back against him as his cock slowly pushes in until there is no more room left to explore.

‘Be good,’ he whispers, ‘and I will give you what you deserve.’

What do you deserve exactly?

It’s hard to say. You enjoy your life of crime almost as much as you love the way Astarion bends you over his desk. You’re good at stealing, you’re good at killing, but you’re good at being soft and pliant as well, giving in to that sentimentality that keeps you coming back from more.

At first it was an elaborate game. What could you do to ensure that Magistrate Judge Astarion Ancunin looked your way? He was a noble elf, and your hands were covered in fresh dough from the baker you stole from. There was a curious glint in his eyes when he looked over you, yet somehow the gods had deemed the yeast and honey on your fingers was not honest enough to be proof.

You are smitten. You bounce taller on your toes with every aggressive thrust, arms struggling to support your weight. Astarion fists his fingers into your hair and pulls until your throat is exposed. He wants you to sing for him, so you do. You arch your back and moan loudly. The sounds of it bounce around his little office.

‘You wouldn’t shut up before,’ Astarion says breathlessly, a hoarse laugh.

‘Do something — worth talking about — ’

Astarions laughs incredulously, but he does fuck you harder for it. He releases your hair without much flourish and focuses on dragging your hips back onto his cock, punching forward so hard you see stars. It’s wonderful, it’s powerful. If Astarion’s entire goal was to make you forsake the world, he’s done a good job of turning your life around. The cravat rubs against your wrists as you try to seek purchase on the desk. Your fingers drag across the polished wood, and you shudder as you clench down around his cock.

You sound so breathless and silly, groaning while he fucks you against his desk. He fills you full until you’re certain you can take no more. You press a hot cheek against the wood and try to catch your breath. You hook a foot around his ankle for support, twisting on his desk. You tuck your arms beneath your chest. You feel as though you’re coming undone. All your years of villainy, and it comes undone by the consistency of Astarion’s presence.

Your arms are stiff from constantly being up, but you’re almost grateful when Astarion pauses. He helps you turn on top of his desk so you’re on your back instead, and even though the edge digs into your lower back, you prefer that to anything else.

You meet Astarion’s gaze. He tells you he hates you, that he wishes you were out of his hair, that he despises you, but the gentleness of his eyes tells you otherwise. He slides back into you with a small moan, and you wrap your legs around his hips to guide him in further.

‘It’s good,’ you gasp. ‘It’s good, you’re good — ’

Astarion doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. You can see it clear as day in his eyes. Astarion won’t say he loves you, that in his ardent fervor he seeks you out, but he knows that you know. Why else would fate lead you back together? You reach for his face with your hands, and his eyes flutter closed to avoid the wistfulness. He leans into your touch.

You cry softly as Astarion begins to grind into you again. He helps carry you as he does so. And it feels so good, feels so overwhelming that you briefly consider the fact that he has changed you for the better.

A spirit that slides into your very marrow. Astarion is hauntingly beautiful, and if he is a spider then you are a fly tangled in his web. He calls you a pretty thing and you give into the struggle. You press your wrists against your forehead and strain against his cock, unable to hide from the waves of crashing pleasure.

Astarion finishes inside of you with a low moan. He presses a rough hand against your belly to stabilize himself, and shyly, you touch his wrist with your bound hands just to feel his pulse. As soon as he’s caught his breath, he releases you from your bonds.

You almost miss him when he pulls away from you. He uses one of his hanging cassocks to clean himself with and is kind enough to do the same for you. You’re almost certain that your legs won’t work, so you sit up on his desk to rest and damn his paperwork to the hells. You kick off your breeches from around your ankles and sit, legs crossed, while Astarion tries to fix his reflection in the mirror.

‘You are truly an astute teacher,’ you say casually. ‘The art of lockpicking is all but gone from my mind. Thank you, your honor.’

Astarion snorts and shakes his head, torn between ignoring you and giving into your wiles. He curls his hair back into place and then walks back to you, leaning forward until you’re nose to nose.

You think he won’t kiss you, but then he does. His lips taste like summer oranges and you taste him until it’s the only thing you can think of. He hugs you tenderly. It isn’t the same as when he admonishes you. It makes your chest feel warm. You almost feel weaker for it. Your bite is being taken away.

‘I can’t keep protecting you,’ Astarion says softly against your cheek. ‘You torment me day and night. When I lie down in my sheets, I find myself consumed with worry.’

‘You think about me?’ you tease. ‘In your sprawling manse?’

‘Move in with me,’ he murmurs. ‘Then you can be inferior yet vain inside my sprawling manse.’

Astarion is not there that evening. You try to wait as long as you can without seeming suspicious. There are maids, family members, and their admirers who come inside and out throughout the evening — but not Astarion, never Astarion. You wait until the sun sets and fireflies light up the streets of the Upper City but eventually, the malaise of abandonment guides your feet away. You walk the streets aimlessly until a shiver runs down your spine. A chill so violent turns you away from the courthouse.

But in the morning, there’s a fuss. It draws you back into where you left and you can’t help but to lose yourself. Astarion is dead. His mother sobs. The members of the city watch who bear the bad news look equally as morose. Astarin’s father nearly falls to his knees in despair.

When you break into their manse that evening, you look for one thing. You steal a cravat from his wardrobe and tie it around your neck.

Then, you leave Baldur’s Gate.

You aren’t sure where your feet are going to take you.

Part of your yearns for the Underdark. Baldur’s Gate is a cursed city, you decide. You wander back to it after two hundred years of avoiding it like the plague, and not an hour within the city are you spirited away on an adventure you never longed for.

You have changed. You can’t really remember who you were all those years ago, or the hopefulness you might have felt in your chest once. You’re different now. A folk hero. You used to steal from the rich and give to the poor before the mindflayers fed you their parasite and stole that part of you. But you aren’t alone this time. You wander the beach for hours searching for anything that can be of use and pause over a love letter that makes you sob.

It isn’t all bad. You meet a half-elf who scowls as much as she mumbles to herself.

On the other side of the beach, you meet a ghost.

His eyes are different from what you remember. The warmth he once looked upon you with is gone and replaced by unfamiliar sanguine.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion smut #bg3 smut #from ，carcosa .#my fic #hyliandreso #you know i hit the prompt square on & then threw in a plot twist #is it really a carcosa fic if there isn't a plot twist somewhere #* say what you want，even if it's bad

481 notes · View notes

ncis-nerd · 27 days

Text

Power Outage

grey november au

☆ of course there had to be a power outage on the night of a thunderstorm.

☆ you were still fairly new to this job and adjusting to living in the compound.

☆ you had a deathly fear of the dark and thunderstorms. so it was just your luck, when the lights began to flicker as you were wrapped up in your blanket, reading a book.

☆ you let out a yell in fear, coincidently, a roar of thunder occurred. you cried out, burying your head under your covers.

☆ that was thing about you, even when you were younger you had this fear. your brother had to bring you to his bed to comfort you. as you refused to sleep alone, petrified of the loud noises.

☆ your thoughts would run wild, imagining the worse cases. what if the thunder hit you? what if your brother got hurt and you were fine?

☆ your brother would stay up with you until it was over. those nights consisted of late night scrabble games in his room, him making you hot chocolate, him "letting" you win..God you missed that .

☆ you were shaking under your covers when suddenly, the door opened. "Hun, are you okay? I heard screams-" Nat paused, seeing a shaking figure under your blanket. Of course Natasha heard you, her room is right next to yours.

☆ no response. Nat came over to you and pulled you into her arms. "Shh..it's okay detka, m' here." She mumbled, holding you.

☆ she didn't pull thr covers off of your head. Letting you determine the pace of bow you wanted this to go.

☆ after a moment of her shushing and comforting you, you finally let the covers off. "Now there's that pretty face I love to see." She smiled, wiping your tears.

☆ "N-natty" you whimpered. Her heart nearly melted at the nickname. You never called her that, but your voice sounded so shaky it brought a frown.

☆ "what's wrong, honey?" She frowned, tracing circles on the back of your palm.

☆ you pouted "m' scared", tightening your grip on the older woman. her eyes soften, "i'm right here dear, i'll protect you. do you want to stay in my room with me? it's nice and warm in there. you can bring your blanket if you want" she smiled at you.

☆ you nodded in response, clutching your blanket in your arms. the spy lifted you up, you squealed in response. most definitely not expecting that.

☆ "n-natty what are you doing??" you giggled. she smiled, seeing you laugh "just protecting you, dear! there might be monsters on the floor! don't want them to snatch your feet!!" she exclaimed, carrying you to her room.

taglist: @ssa-shaylam @madamevirgo @radcherryblossompainter @midastouch013 @dumbasslesbi @krystallevine @ellieromanov @midastouch013

244 notes · View notes

crystalflygeo · 1 year

Text

Sinful voice. ft "Morax" + fem!reader (modern AU)

cw/tags: Voice kink, daddy kink, dirty talk, female masturbation, uuhh fantasizing? petnames (sweetheart, sweetie, babygirl, darling).

notes: I literally had this sudden brainrot idea today at work (rip) and as soon as I came home I typed all this in a rush and bOI. That man's voice is just...... no words. Drives me insane, wild, crazy, feral.

To say you were nervous was an understatement.

You were starting a new chapter of your life, fresh into college, moving to a whole other city to dedicate to your studies and enter the “adult world”

You’d arrived a few weeks early to move in and start settling on your little space, it was barely a small room in a house you’d share with other new students. You’d even share a kitchen but hey, at least each one had a tiny individual bathroom for yourselves.

Tomorrow was the big day. Your first day. And although you’d heard many people say they would just take it easy or even skip the first few days (because “they were not that important” as schedules and teachers were still being organized) you’d heard just as many stories about how college was difficult and important and you gotta make good first impressions and familiarize and meet new people and blablabla…

It was pretty nerve-wracking.

So here you are, way past midnight, rolling over in bed unable to calm down.

You sigh and start messing around with your phone, bored. Maybe you can just skip tomorrow?

Or maybe…

You bite your lip. There’s a little something you can do to… relax.

Before you can even think, your fingers are already typing the familiar webpage name on the phone, already smiling mischievously.

In your search for a little “spice” for your solo pleasure sessions you often went for audios and ASMR content. The sounds and voices were much hotter than excessively raunchy lame crude run-of-the-mill videos in your honest opinion. All you had to do was get comfy, close your eyes, and immerse on the fantasy. It was bliss.

And so, a few months ago you had found him.

Morax.

Oh, that man had a voice to die for, deep and rich like syrup, making you shiver and whine every time. His content was absolutely top-notch and you’d been instantly drawn like a moth to a flame ever since you’d managed to drag out one of your best orgasms ever after listening and playing along for a few minutes.

And when you dug around and found his subscription page? Oh boy, you were a goner.

You can only imagine what your parents would say if they knew you spend money on something like this but hey, financial independence means you can spend your money (from part time-jobs and whatnot) on whatever you want.

And damn you want this sexy voice murmuring dirty praise on your ear.

You scramble out of bed, grabbing your earphones and getting rid of some of your clothes before settling down again comfortably, pillow propped against the headboard, almost giggling excitedly as you scroll around the page’s contents.

Morax was obviously an experienced dom. His content covered a myriad of different kinks and scenarios, many of which you had even only started to explore because of him. And though his voice was always calm and refined, with this sweetness and dominant tilt to it, his growls and groans could be just as wild. Morax sounded downright sinful when angry, scolding or degrading the listener. And his moans and soft chuckles? Oh, you could just faint with those.

Or come, probably. Yeah.

“Daddy fucks you in his lap” “Overstimulating my pet’s little clit” “Grind your sweet pussy on Master’s leg” “Waking you up with my big cock” “Making you my good girl” “Cum until you cry and beg”

You blush as you look at the titles, skimming around tags and descriptions looking for whatever strikes your mood tonight. Heck, anything would be fine if it was him though, you swore you weren’t even into the whole daddy kink before you heard Morax but now…

Oh.

Well lucky you, he’d just uploaded something new a few hours ago, you were one of the first views… ever the fangirl, huh? You click on it as you subconsciously lick your lips. Gods, your body feels hot and needy already, knowing what’s to come.

“Daddy spoils your little pussy” reads the caption, and you place your phone by your side, lying down, propping your legs and closing your eyes.

Oh, oh my god. Your breath catches as the audio starts off right away with some lewd wet noises. Usually, Morax would sweet talk for a bit first to set the scene and mood, but you sure weren’t complaining!

Your heartbeat speeds up as your hands start rubbing at your legs and over your panties, just trying to get your body up to speed.

“Hmmm… oh, there you are sweetheart.” Gods. Morax’s voice. You already wanted to moan at the deep baritone vibrating in your ears. “I’m sorry to wake you up.”

How ironic that you couldn’t sleep yourself.

His voice drags, sounds a little tired and hoarse, it just adds to it and you picture him kissing and dragging his tongue along your skin “You like that don’t you baby? Feeling my lips… tracing your hipbone like this. I can feel the goosebumps blooming along your skin.”

Oh goosebumps alright, you shiver as you rub at your skin a little impatient, how you wish you really had his lips worshipping you right now.

“You don’t even have to do anything, you can even just go back to sleep, if you’d like.” He chuckles. “But daddy just needed you, he needed his… hmm… sweet babygirl.”

“Hng Morax yes… need you too, daddy.” You whisper softly, already shifting on the sheets.

He continues to kiss and whisper sweet nothings about how he wants to make you feel good, kiss you and pamper you and make you relax, and you melt. His soft breathing and wet sucking and kissing noises turning you on instantly.

“Alright sweetie let’s take these panties off.” There’s a slight rustle of fabric in the audio as you quickly strip off your own underwear along. “That’s a good girl. Hmm… look at your sweet little pussy, already wet and swollen for me.” He groans and you whimper and buck your hips.

“Oh god please…” You’re so keyed up already. Morax simply has that effect on you, and you wish he would hurry so you can start touching where you most need it.

“Hmm… just relax sweetheart. Lie down and let daddy take care of you… of your cute little pussy.” More erotic noises follow as you picture him slowly going down and down until he kisses and licks at your folds. “Oh, that tickles sweetie?” Another sinful chuckle.

His voice, his voice was just so good. You’d wondered many times what kind of man would have such a deep hypnotizing voice. Surely he was older, but maybe not quite a silver fox. Dark hair, maybe? A large frame, broad shoulders, lean muscles but still elegant, a proper gentleman to go with his personality.

You knew he had golden eyes, that was a fact. Well, at least what he’d mentioned in a couple of scenes, it could very well be a lie but you wanted to believe in that mysterious domineering golden glow, staring up at you like molten heat from above you or between your legs.

Morax’s voice keeps feeding your fantasy, commenting how wet you are, how your body twitches, how he drags, slow and languid around your hole and oh, it’s like your body responds exactly the way he wants, guided by him.

“Darling, let me just… hmm… suck on your cute little clit like this.”

“Ah!”

A shock of pleasure runs trough your veins as you start rubbing on the little nub. His voice muffled, moaning as he sucks and licks and sighs deeply, clearly enjoying this.

“So sweet, so good for me. Oh, it makes daddy just ache for you sweetheart.”

You want Morax’s cock in you yesterday.

His voice turns breathy and strained, the noises and tension intensifying as you rub faster, legs shaking, your breath coming out in gasps to match his, back arching off the bed. It’s all so good, his praise, his dirty words, his gasps, his moans.

“Come on sweetie, I know you want my big cock but first… hng… first daddy wants you to cum hah… do that for me princess? Come for daddy, come on.”

“F-fuck… fuck… hnnng” You mewl. “M-Morax…”

“I got you darling I’m right here, you can cum baby I want to taste you.”

“Ah A-Ah!” Your mouth parts into a silent scream and your whole body tenses and shudders, pleasure buzzing in your veins and under your flushed sweaty skin. Your juices spill against your hand but you imagine them wetting his chin as his voice groans and moans in your ears. You picture those half-lidded sultry golden eyes glowering at you.

“That’s a very good girl…” He chuckles, and your hazy mind can picture him nuzzling at your inner thighs. “Now, now get ready babygirl, give me your legs like this.” A noise of sheets shifting registers in your brain “Around my shoulder and let me just… hng… stroke my big cock ready for you.”

Oh you were floating, your head was spinning, you parted your legs, following his every command, fingers still rubbing at your oversensitive folds to simulate whatever he was doing. You moan at the slick jerking sound and vaguely lament not having something to fill you up as he would.

“Hmm… we’re just getting started, my dear.” He hisses.

The night was long and the audio not even halfway…

———————————————————–

Even though you ended up going to sleep way past any reasonable time you didn’t really feel tired. In fact, you slept wonderfully, warm and sated. And so, you headed up to class with a carefree skip and bright smile, excited to see what this new day and new year would bring you.

The classroom was rather big but looked pretty empty even though the professor was already there, you slid into one of the front seats and quickly checked the time. You weren’t late or anything, he was just… punctual and early, it seems. Which is more than can be said by the majority of the students… if they are even coming to the class.

Some general studies were mandatory classes, though you’d only had to take a couple courses before moving to subjects more in line with your chosen career. But for now, seems like you had to deal with… history.

The professor was, well… handsome, to be quite honest. And you found yourself quietly admiring him from afar. Prim and proper with long silky dark hair in a low ponytail, a perfectly neat and brown suit, and thin elegant glasses that only drew more attention to his striking gold eyes. Not a crease in sight, not a hair out of place.

He was rather meticulous it seems, with the way he organized his material, checking the time before starting the class on the dot.

“Greetings everyone, my name is Zhongli.” He smiles warmly. “I believe a welcome in is order as this is your first day of college, a new stage of your life.”

No way.

Absolutely no fucking way.

His voice…

“Seems like you’re stuck with me for your very first class.” He chuckles.

Low and deep and velvet.

Oh, you know that exact same sound.

Your eyes widen.

Oh shit.

Mr. Zhongli is Morax…

“Let’s hope this year shall be a good and prosperous one, hm?”

#genshin smut #zhongli smut #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin x you #zhongli x you #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact smut #crys writes #fem reader #professor zhongli #SIKE did you like that lil plot twist at the end???#lmao it was hella obvious but I still didn't wanna ruin it from the start by putting it in the title #idk how to tag cw #LISTEN #ZHONGLI'S VOICE IS PURE SIN I CANNOT #SCREAMING AT MY OWN WRITING #MIGHT HAVE AN IDEA FOR A FOLLOW UP ALREADY HMMMMMM

2K notes · View notes

sidekick-hero · 5 months

Text

tangled with what I never said

(steddie | mature | 994 words | @steddiemas angsty sentence starters and @steddieholidaydrabbles modern au prompts)

NOW WITH A PART 2

"I don't know what you want from me!" Eddie yells, his face contorted in misery.

He doesn't want to fight. He doesn't want to feel the way he does, confused and angry and miserable. He doesn't want to lose Steve.

"I want to know what's wrong. You can talk to me, man. You know you can, right?" Steve's voice wavers at the question, his hazel eyes imploring Eddie to tell him what's wrong so Steve can fix it.

The problem is, Steve can't fix it. Not this one.

Eddie lets out a deep sigh, feeling all his anger drain out of his body, leaving behind a weariness that feels too big for his body. He's just so tired of feeling like this.

"I don't know what to say, Steve. I told you, I'm just tired, okay? Go back to Sam and enjoy your date. I'm fine."

Steve doesn't move, just looks at him with that hurt look on his face and Eddie doesn't know why, but it reignites that seemingly ever-present flame of hot anger in his stomach.

"Stop. Stop looking at me like that." He snaps and sees Steve jump at the sharpness in his voice. They've been roommates for two years now, and friends for almost as long, and Eddie can count the times they've fought on one hand.

"Like what?"

"Like I killed your puppy or something. Like I hurt you when you're the one -" Eddie snaps his mouth shut, but it's too late. Fuck his traitorous mouth that keeps running off and ruining his life.

Steve takes a step forward, then another, inching closer like he's approaching a wild, cornered animal. "When I'm the one hurting you? Is that what's going on, Eddie, have I hurt you?" His hand reaches for Eddie and Eddie wants to take it so badly. That's the problem, isn't it? He wants and wants and wants.

He wants to be happy for Steve, he really does. He wants to smile and congratulate him for finally finding someone he likes enough to take out on dates and kiss good night and hold his hand with that happy smile on his face. Someone to hold him and fuck him so good that Eddie can hear it through the wall separating their bedrooms.

But most of all, Eddie wants to be that person for Steve.

"Eddie?" Steve's voice jolts him from his thoughts as a warm hand settles on his upper arm. "What did I do? Please, tell me."

"You didn't do anything..."

"Bullshit!" Steve shouts, and Eddie swears he can hear that one word echoing through his mind. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.

"Steve," he tries, but is cut off by Steve's shaking voice, a stark contrast to the tight grip on his arm.

"No, Eddie. You can't... I can't do this anymore, watching you pull away. It's like. I don't know. Like you're disappearing before my eyes. And I... fuck." He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was after the heavy make-out session Eddie had come home to earlier than planned. His eyes find Eddie's and Eddie's stomach drops when he sees the tears glistening in them. "I miss you, okay? I fucking miss you."

"I'm right here," Eddie whispers. There are so many things he wants to say, needs to say, but they're all stuck in his throat, slowly choking him.

Steve moves even closer so that their faces are only inches apart, his eyes never leaving Eddie's, and whispers back, "No, you're not. Not really. You're like a ghost story." Eddie can feel Steve's breath against his own lips and thinks Steve must be trembling before he realizes that no, that's him.

"Steve, please." He doesn't know what he's pleading for. Maybe to take back those stupid words he said to Steve fourteen months ago.

It was a mistake.

We were drunk and high and I didn't mean it.

We can still be friends.

Maybe he's begging Steve to take the thoughts out of his head so he doesn't have to say them.

I'm sorry.

I was scared because I didn't want to lose you.

I'm so in love with you that some days it feels like it's killing me and I want to let it.

Steve's big, warm hand cradles his face and Eddie leans into it like a flower starving for the nurturing touch of the sun. They are so close that Eddie can feel Steve's body shaking as well, and Eddie doesn't know what it means, but he wants to take Steve and hold him until it stops. Until they can both be put back together again.

"Eddie, I -"

A knock interrupts what Steve is about to say. "Babe, is everything okay?"

Eddie feels his heart crumple in his chest at the sound of Steve's boyfriend's voice.

"Yeah, just give me a second." Steve calls over his shoulder, but when he turns around, Eddie steps away from him.

"Go to your boyfriend, Steve." Eddie tells him before grabbing his jacket and walking out of his bedroom and towards the door. He doesn't know where he's going, just that he hopes they're both gone when he gets back.

He walks aimlessly through the night, replaying their fight over and over again. The way he reacted when he saw Steve and Sam making out on the couch, how Steve followed him, confronted him. Steve telling him he missed him with tears in his eyes and holding his face so gently afterwards.

Maybe it's his Hail Mary, but he has to tell Steve how he feels, if only to make him understand that it's not Steve who's the problem, but Eddie.

Letting himself into their apartment, he finds it dark and quiet as he tiptoes to his room, and he's glad for the delay.

What he isn't prepared for is the sight of Steve lying on Eddie's bed, fast asleep, clutching Eddie's favorite hoodie to his chest.

#steddie #steddie drabble #steddieholidaydrabbles #steddiemas #my writing #angst with happy ending

324 notes · View notes

katyswrites · 2 months

Text

put on your records (and regret me)

PART 3 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: asshole!Steve, rivals-to-lovers, swearing, alcohol use, recreational weed use, descriptions of puking/hangovers, no use of y/n, not quite smut but we're getting close folks

Wordcount: 4.3k

Playlist

You love WAMC-Hawkins, Indiana’s top college radio station. It’s your safe space, your niche. It’s where you’ve made your friends, your favorite place to be when the rest of the world gets to be just a bit too much. Well, with one exception.

Steve Harrington is a thorn in your side. And just as well - he thinks you’re a royal pain in the ass. But in your senior year, you’re both on the e-board, so you have to work together. You love to hate him. So why can’t you get him out of your head? And, why do you find yourself going to see his band, each and every weekend?

Underground basement concerts, spinning old records, and screaming matches in the vinyl library with the boy you love to hate. An enemies-to-lovers college radio station 90s AU.

TRACK 3

You don’t see Steve for nearly a week after that - you hang around the radio station quite a bit, as you usually do, but never manage to run into him. You should be thankful for that - for how peaceful it is. It’s not even like you want to see him - no, why would you? He’s a pain in your ass, and you should be thankful that you can do your job in peace.

No, it’s not actually at the station that you see him next - though, it’s tangentially related. You’re at perhaps your second-favorite place in the world - Varsity Vinyl, the local record shop downtown. It has some of the best selection you’d seen, and you always find yourself there - buying for your own growing record collection, or rooting through the used and discounted bin to help stock the station’s vinyl library. It’s where you find yourself on a Saturday afternoon, flipping through records while figuring how much money you actually realistically are able to spend.

You don’t see him, not at first. He’s standing further down the aisle, and when you finally look up and spot him, you nearly jump - he’s just staring at you, eyes wide. You straighten up, just holding eye contact - you feel like two wild animals sizing each other up, deciding whether to run or fight. You’re truly deciding between those two options when he clears his throat.

“Oh - uh, hey,” he says, quieter than you had expected.

“Hey.”

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, a beat of silence passing between you. Then, you both find yourselves speaking at once:

“Your party was fun the other night -”

“Are you okay -”

You both pause, and you awkwardly laugh.

“Sorry, uh - the party was fun last weekend. Thanks,” you say quietly.

Steve shrugs.

“Oh, yeah - glad you came. You… you seemed like you were having a good time.”

Like I made an absolute fool of yourself, more like, you think to yourself.

“Oh! I mean - I guess. Sorry if I got a little - uh -”

“It’s fine, don’t worry - we’ve had worse,” Steve assures.

He hasn’t said anything about bringing you home. Part of you is convinced that Eddie was misinformed, and Steve didn’t actually bring you home that night - that is, if it wasn’t for that stupid note. The note you probably should have thrown out, but stuck into a desk drawer instead - to refer to later, just to make sure you weren’t crazy, you had reasoned.

But now, Steve is standing in front of you, more quiet and withdrawn than you’ve ever seen in the past four years of knowing him.

“So, uh - thanks,” you say quickly, almost mumbling.

“For what?” he asks, confused.

“For, um, getting me home safe - I don’t really remember it, but -”

He waves you off. “Oh, that - don’t worry about it. The hardest part was getting you to tell me your address,” he says, laughing. “You were wasted.”

You groan. “That’s…embarrassing.”

He smirks. “Honestly, yeah, a little bit. But most people were gone by then, so… your secret’s safe with me.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“I mean - I’m surprised you didn’t tell everybody - how I was, you know, throwing up all over your apartment, being a drunk idiot -”

Why didn’t he? It’s leverage - a way to make people lose respect for you, and gain more for him. A part of this stupid, pointless power battle you two seem to always be involved in, seeing how far you can push one another. His response is unexpected.

“You don’t actually think that little of me, do you?”

You don’t really know how to answer that.

He scoffs. “Look, it’s not my fault that you can’t hold your alcohol for shit. But, I’m not going to go around telling everyone that, okay? Christ -”

He trails off, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re welcome, though.”

You suddenly feel like a bit of an asshole - Steve is used to you throwing insults his way, but this time, it seems to have struck a chord with him.

“I was in a really bad way, wasn’t I?” you ask quietly, avoiding eye contact.

He nods. “Honestly? Yeah, it wasn’t pretty. You really don’t remember?”

You shake your head, face feeling flushed with embarrassment. He just sighs.

“What do you remember?”

You rack your brain for a moment, biting your lip absentmindedly as you think.

“Um - I remember playing Kings with everyone… and, uh…”

I remember you coming in from the porch with what’s-her-face on your arm -

“-and it gets fuzzy after that,” you say quickly.

“Oh, okay - wow, that’s pretty early on. Well, you did some shots with Eddie and Robin - you got on the kitchen table at one point ... I think you threw up over my balcony… and after that I, uh, hung out with you in the bathroom while you threw up some more, and brought you home.”

You freeze. “Wait - you babysat me, like, the whole time? I thought that was Eddie -”

“No way, Eddie was too high to help anyone. I was stone-cold sober by that point, thanks to you.”

“Oh,” you say, wishing you could sink into the floor. Steve fucking Harrington knew what you looked like keeled over a toilet and puking your guts out… dammit.

“It was pretty gnarly, but… it’s fine. Really, it’s okay.”

For maybe the first time in his life, it sounds like Steve is being sincere with you. Another beat of silence passes, then he’s clearing his throat again.

“So… you have any big plans tonight? A repeat of last weekend, maybe?” he asks casually. You furrow your brow, confused.

“Um - do you actually care?”

He shrugs. “So what if I do?”

“Well - no, after last weekend I’m not sure if I ever want to drink again -”

“The most famous lie ever told,” he cuts in, grinning. You just roll your eyes, and pretend to be interested in perusing the records as you return to flipping through the crates.

“-but it just so happens that I do have plans tonight,” you say quietly.

“Hot date?”

You scoff. “I’m going to Fuze Box. Nancy’s covering some bands for an article for the campus paper, and I figured I’d check out who's playing tonight.”

WAMC has a long-standing relationship with Fuze Box, a small music venue for local artists and college bands. A lot of students and station members play there, and shows at the Box get advertised a lot on the air. You try to go to local gigs as much as you can - though, you haven’t made as much of an effort lately, too overwhelmed by other responsibilities as station manager. Nancy’s article is a good excuse to go, for the first time all semester.

“So, you don’t know any of the bands playing tonight?” he asks, leaning against a shelf and crossing his arms.

You shake your head. “Nope - just figured I’d check it out, go in blind. Maybe I’ll even put some of the bands in my radio slot next week, if they’re selling CDs or something.”

Steve grins mischievously.

“Right - well, have fun, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, and know that any semblance of an awkward peace between you two is gone - the Steve you know and love (to hate) is back. You turn to make a clever retort, but he’s gone, having stalked off to a different aisle.

You’re not sure what he’s up to, but part of you now has a sneaking suspicion that he might show up at the venue tonight just to piss you off - it’s such a Steve move.

As you go to the checkout, you do your best to shake it - after all, what’s the worst that can happen?

*****

“Thank you - we’ve been Lime of Decision - goodnight!” the lead singer shouts, a collection of hollers and applause following. The lights go up a bit, some venue staff coming out to the stage to adjust the equipment for the next band.

“Lime Of Decision is… a choice,” Nancy says, scribbling something into her notebook.

“Yeah, that’s because their name is literally meant to be a joke,” you say absentmindedly.

“What?”

“Jason, the lead singer? His ex-girlfriend is in a band called Lemon Of Choice, so it’s like…funny. I think.”

Nancy chuckles, shaking her head.

“Which band is better?”

“Definitely hers,” you say immediately.

You and Nancy both stare at each other for a moment, and break into a fit of giggles.

“I’m going to get another drink, you want anything?” she asks.

You shake your head, holding up the cup of beer you’re still nursing from the beginning of the last band’s set.

She disappears into the crowd, and you sigh, taking a drink as you once again survey the room. If Steve actually is here, you haven’t spotted him yet - maybe he decided that getting on your nerves wasn’t worth actually paying the cover at the door. Or, maybe he actually had more important plans - maybe even with that girl he was all cozy with at the party -

You stop yourself - why do you care? If anything, it should be a good thing that he doesn’t seem to be here.

There’s two more bands left to go - you had glanced at the flier on the way in, but only recognized Lime Of Decision in the lineup. So, when Nancy returns with a new drink and the lights begin to dim again, you just hope the next band is better - it can really be hit or miss at these sorts of shows.

Darius, the radio station’s tech engineer, is emceeing the show. He steps out on stage to introduce the next band, earning a smattering of cheers and hollers thrown in his direction.

“Alright, alright everyone! Settle down - that includes you, Hagan - Jesus Christ, okay - can we give it up for the amazing bands we’ve heard so far tonight?”

You clap along with the rest of the crowd, rolling our eyes at the sound of particularly rowdy hollers from the back that you just know comes from Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin.

Darius’ eyes narrow.

“Dammit, Munson - when I said a month-long ban, I meant it -”

You glance back to see Eddie flipping Darius off - famously, Corroded Coffin got a temporary suspension from Fuze Box for smoking weed in the green room. But, the ban actually being enforced… not likely.

Darius rolls his eyes, struggling to get the room back on track as he taps the microphone.

“Okay, okay - everyone, can we please - if you all can shut the fuck up - okay, whatever. The next band up tonight - you guys know and love. They’re a Fuze Box favorite - and no, they are not promising anything with the name. Give it up for Free Beer!

You can’t help but laugh at the band’s name - you instinctively turn to Nancy, who is doing her best to stifle a giggle as she writes something on her notepad, squinting in the dark.

It’s during those few seconds while you’re looking away that the band takes the stage - which is why, when you glance back, you freeze as you see who’s standing front-and-center.

Steve stands at the mic stand, an electric guitar slung over his shoulders as he smiles at the crowd.

You freeze. Other band members - including Robin and Argyle, who you know all too well from the radio station - come out onto the stage behind him. But you’re just staring at Steve, dumbfounded.

You knew he had a band - scheduling them to perform on the air was always a nightmare for you, which you knew Steve did on purpose. So, you had never learned anything about them on-principle. You hadn’t heard a lick of music, didn’t know who else was in it, or even the goddamn name - until right now.

Nancy’s eyes are on you, you can feel it. You turn briefly to look at her.

“Do you want to leave?” she asks, glancing at where Steve stands on stage. You shake your head.

“God, no! I - I’m an adult, I can be in the same room as Harrington,” you say, laughing nervously. You’re not sure how much you believe yourself. She stares at you for a moment, then just nods, turning her attention back to the stage, where Steve is stepping up to the mic.

“Hey guys - we’re Free Beer. I’m Steve -”

A few feminine voices cheer from the back. Your eyes roll so far to the back of your head that you’re worried you’ll go blind.

“Thanks, ladies, love the enthusiasm. So - let’s just get into it. Ready to hear some songs?”

There’s an eruption of cheers through the audience - one of the biggest reactions of the night so far.

“Alright - this one is called ‘Closer,’ I hope you enjoy.”

From the moment he plays the first chord, something shifts in the room. The crowd becomes less rowdy, less chatty. No - everyone is really listening. Some are even singing along - how the fuck do this many people know the words?

You want to hate it - you want the set to be something you’re tolerating, something that makes you look forward to the next band coming out. But, despite your efforts, that’s not what happens. Because the band is good. Robin is killer on bass, and Argyle is a formidable drummer, despite his perpetually laid-back persona. And Steve - it’s like he was born to do this.

Aside from having a pretty good voice, and being an excellent guitarist, he’s actually a good frontman. He’s charismatic, knows how to work the crowd, and somehow, he makes the tiny stage of the Fuze Box feel as exciting as Live Aid.

You want to scream - of course he’s good. You catch yourself moving along to the music every now and then, and immediately stop yourself, hoping nobody sees. At one point, you swear Steve sees you. His eyes land on yours - or, at least, in your direction. You think you imagine it - it’s a big enough crowd, and you’re far enough back that he probably can’t see past the first few rows. That is, until he smirks, in the way that you know he reserves only to taunt you, to challenge you.

Fuck.

*****

You find yourself heading down the hallway after Steve’s set - you’re looking for the bathroom, shouldering through the bodies packed into the narrow passage. Part of it is because your beer has finally gone through you, and more so because you need a minute of peace and quiet, just to stare at yourself in the mirror and talk some sense into yourself. Steve’s band can’t be good - that would be a problem. If you didn’t know who was part of it, they’re the kind of band you would buy records for, keep a spare CD in your car, and even include as part of your radio show. But…it's Steve.

You had purposely never gone to any of his shows - you never listened to any in-studio sessions they did at the station, and God knows you would never ask Steve about his music. What the fuck?

Part of you also wants to smack him - of course he was performing here tonight - he looked you in the eye at the record store today, heard you were coming here tonight, and said nothing. Next time you see him, you decide, you’ll ignore him - you won’t even acknowledge that you saw him perform. If he asks, you’ll tell him you left the show early, long before he came on stage. You won’t give him the satisfaction of thinking you sat through his whole set, let alone enjoyed it.

You can’t exactly remember where the bathroom is - was it all the way at the end of the hallway? None of the doors are really labeled, which tracks for Fuze Box.

You knock on a few doors and jiggle the handles - one is an electrical closet, the other is locked and seemingly empty. You finally reach a door at the end, and give it a gentle knock - nobody responds. You try the knob, and it gives way. After shouldering your way inside, you wish you hadn’t.

Apparently, instead of the bathroom, you’ve managed to find the green room - although, to call the backstage area of the Fuze Box a green room is generous. It’s really a tiny room with a worn out couch, a cracked glass coffee table littered with ashtrays, and lighting so dim that you have to squint to figure out exactly where you are as you slip through the door.

It’s only once you’re inside, when it’s too late, that you realize you’ve walked in on Steve.

His back is turned to you, but he jumps slightly and turns when he hears the door open. He’s wiping his brow with a towel, and he grins when he sees you.

“Hey, sweetheart - wasn’t expecting to see you back here.”

You stand in the doorway awkwardly - why couldn’t the rest of his band be hanging out here with him? That way, you could throw out a blanket ‘you guys were great’ statement. But now it’s just him, staring at you, his face saying why the fuck are you here?

“Oh - sorry - I’m in the wrong room,” you say quickly, your face feeling hot as you start to back away.

“Okay - sure you are,” Steve says sarcastically.

“What does that mean?” you ask, stopping your retreat.

He shrugs. “Don’t know - you just seem to always conveniently stumble into me, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Try to stop me.”

There’s a moment of silence, and you just groan with frustration, taking a few steps towards him.

“Jesus, I - I don’t know if it’s like, a weird sick game to you, or you’re just always trying to piss me off - or if you just can’t help and flirt with everyone -”

“You think I’m flirting with you?” he asks, grinning mischievously.

You stop, folding your arms in indignation.

“No - I mean, kind of, but probably as a joke - I know what you’re up to, Harrington.”

“And what exactly am I up to?”

“This bullshit you keep pulling,” you say, gesturing between you two. “This - like, always sabotaging my shit, and getting in my way - but then like, this stupid nice-guy thing, where you drive me home when I’m drunk and don’t tell anyone, but then like you trick me into watching your stupid band perform -”

He scoffs. “Trick you? Be serious -”

“You knew I’d be here tonight - you knew, and didn’t say anything -”

“Well given your track record, sweetheart, if you had known I’d be playing, I’m sure you would’ve been front row!”

You stop mid-sentence, mouth hanging open as you try to search inwardly for a reply. Your face feels hot all of a sudden.

He’s smirking now, just like he did on stage. As always, he’s too confident, too sarcastic, too Steve. He’s taken away your ability to even come up with a halfway decent retort. It pisses you off.

“I - that’s not -”

Your blood is rushing to your head, roaring in your ears, too enraged to even let you think straight anymore. You’re marching right up to him now, prodding his chest with your finger.

“I don’t like you,” you say.

“You don’t say?” he drawls, still smiling. Why is he smiling?

“Stop doing that -”

“Doing what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Stop distracting me -”

“I distract you?”

You want to kick yourself.

“I - well - only because you’re so -”

“Devilishly handsome?”

“-fucking annoying.”

He cocks his head, like you’ve only mildly piqued his curiosity instead of insulted him.

You sigh. “What?”

“It’s just - you didn’t seem to find me very annoying last weekend when you tried to kiss me.”

A beat. You just stand there, jaw agape as his words hang in the air between you like smoke on a hazy summer’s day.

“That’s not funny,” you manage to say.

“Does it look like I’m laughing?”

You’re suddenly aware of how close you are to him - the next band has started outside, a distant din that should be distracting. But all you can focus on is Steve - the beads of sweat on his forehead, the way you’re close enough to smell that he had just had a cigarette.

“I didn’t -”

“Sweetheart - right before you puked your guts up in my bathroom, you tried to stick your tongue down my throat. Don’t worry - I didn’t let you. I really thought you would’ve remembered, until I saw you in the record store - then I realized you didn’t remember jack shit.”

You feel like you’re making this up. He’s just saying this to get under your skin - he must be. It’s the only explanation. Because you’d never -

“You’re lying.”

But he’s just staring at you, and you’re starting to get the sickening suspicion that this isn’t a joke.

“You’re lying,” you repeat, though it sounds more like a question this time.

He’s taking another step towards you, shaking his head.

“You know what they say, sweetheart - in vino vesco, or whatever. You know - how people say and do what they’re really thinking when they’re drunk -”

“Veritas.”

He stops, furrowing his brow.

“I - what?”

You can’t help yourself - you just can’t.

“The phrase is in vino veritas - it means truth. I think vesco means food or something, you’re missing the whole -”

“Shut up,” he says. “You’re always such a -”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you’re kissing him. You don’t mean to do it, you swear - but he had gotten so close, the heat radiating off of him too much to ignore. And, he was really pissing you off - you didn’t need to hear another word out of his mouth.

You fist your hands in his t-shirt, your lips on his, messy and desperate, like you’re trying to prove a point. And he’s kissing you back.

Steve kisses the same way he argues - he’s aggressive, his hands coming up to grab your face and pull you closer. He tastes like cigarettes and cheap beer, his aura hot and desperate as it envelops you.

The band plays out in the venue, the audience cheering and singing along - but, all you can hear is Steve’s labored breath against your lips, your own heart thudding in your chest.

The kiss was all teeth and tongue, another argument you were both desperate to win. But, right now, you’re losing. Because he’s guiding your body, and you’re responding, stepping backwards until your back is hitting the cinderblock wall.

No words are spoken, just breathy moans and the sounds of your lips moving in unison. It’s not remotely romantic - it feels more like fuck you, I’m trying so hard to hate you, why can’t you let me -

One of his hands has traveled down to your waist, gripping it firmly enough to tell you that he wanted more. You feel his hand start to move, slipping under the hem of your shirt and gently brushing the warm skin of your lower back. His hands are calloused, rough against the softness of your skin. You let him start to explore, unable to stop yourself from quietly moaning against his lips.

You know you should stop - but you can’t. It’s addicting, the way he’s still fighting with you as his tongue enters your mouth. Is this really happening? Maybe this could’ve gone on for hours. That is, until -

The knock on the door makes you both jump, pulling apart as quickly as you had crashed together. Steve is staring at you, breathing heavily, his pupils blown and lips a bit swollen. You imagine you look similarly. He takes a step back, separately himself from where you’re still frozen against the wall.

“Yeah?” Steve calls, voice rougher than before.

“Are you decent?” a voice asks from the other side of the door, barely audible over the sound of the band currently on stage.

Steve looks like he’s fighting laughter, but he just shakes his head, back facing the doorway.

“Nope - you’re good,” he says, his eyes meeting yours again.

He doesn’t need to say it - the look he’s shooting your way is enough.

Not a word.

Robin enters, grinning.

“Hey, we were just going to - oh, hi.”

She’s spotted you, and you just know she has questions.

“Hey, Robin,” you say quietly. “I, uh - I was looking for the bathroom. Ended up in here - I was just telling Steve how much I liked your set.”

Robin beams. “Thanks! It’s fun to see that you came out - haven’t seen you at a gig in a while!”

You nod. “Oh, yeah - I’ve been trying to get myself out there more -”

Steve scoffs, and you want to slap him. If Robin notices, she doesn’t say anything.

“- but, um - I should go.”

Robin nods.

“Yeah - I was just coming to find Steve, we’re all going to head to WT’s for a drink - uh, do you want to come?”

She’s probably just being polite. But, you shake your head vigorously.

“No, I’m good - sounds like it’s a band thing. I should get going anyway - I’ll catch the end of this set,” you say, gesturing towards the sound of the band on stage echoing from down the hall. You still haven’t made eye contact with Steve, not since Robin entered the room. So, you just give her a curt nod, and do everything in your power to head out the door without looking like you’re bolting. You’re screwed.

author's note: thanks for your patience y'all! I'm going away to Ireland on a work trip for about 3 weeks starting tomorrow, so I'm hoping to do some writing while I'm there, but no promises! As always, reblogs and likes are appreciated!

300 notes · View notes

dreamwritesimagines · 4 months

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane [5] - Unyielding

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Certain arguments can’t wait.

Word Count: 3600

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

For a couple of seconds, you could do nothing but stare at him with wide eyes, frozen in your seat.

“Excuse me?”

“Just hear me out before you grab your gun, it would—” he started but you scoffed and stood up from the lounge chair, the familiar anger rushing through you so fast that it almost made your head spin.

“Do you think this is funny?”

He shook his head fervently. “I’m completely serious.”

A dry laugh spilled from your lips. “Oh really?”

“Charm…”

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but my stupid little crush on you went away years and years ago,” you growled, glaring daggers at him. “You made sure of that, so if you dare assume for even a moment—”

“Oh my God, that was the wildest bachelorette I’ve ever been to!” Becca’s voice cut you off as she pushed open the door and stepped into the rooftop. “Also I’m pretty sure I’m in love now, so…” she stopped when her eyes fell on you two. “Uh, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you said after a beat and threw your shoulders back. “Did you just say you’re in love?”

“Yeah!”

Bucky stole a look at Becca. “Who did you fall in love with?”

“That’s a long story. What’s going on in here?”

You pursed your lips together, your heart still beating in your ears as you tried to focus through the fury, then cleared your throat.

“We were—”

“Y/N, we’re leaving!” you heard Ian’s voice and your head whipped around, then you cleared your throat.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” you said, pressing a kiss on her cheek in a rush. “Let’s get coffee at the usual place?”

“Uh, sure?” she said slowly and you walked out of the rooftop like someone was chasing you, without sparing Bucky so much as a glance.

The road back home was considerably quiet but it did nothing to silence the chaos in your mind. You had excused yourself to your room as soon as you got home, but after an hour of tossing and turning in the bed, you huffed out and kicked the covers off of you, sitting up in the bed.

This was nonsense.

There was no scenario in which you’d marry Bucky. You weren’t even sure you could spend more than half an hour together without being at each other’s throats, let alone being an actual couple—

Not that you had thought about it.

Much.

Fine, back when you were younger and Bucky hadn’t ripped your heart out yet, you used to spend a lot of time thinking about you and him ending up together. He was your best friend’s cool older brother and you were both heirs to your families’ empires, so your little crush let your imagination run wild.

And then he had broken your heart but after everything, even now, your imagination still liked to conjure him up in your dreams some nights.

But unlike before, you weren’t an idiot. You knew what kind of an asshole he was, so there was no way you could even entertain that stupid proposal, no matter what kind of a promise of power it held.

You rubbed at your eyes and got up from the bed, then padded your way down the hallway, then went down the spiral stairs. You stretched out your arms over your head as you followed the hallway to the kitchen where the light was coming from, as you knew it would, then peeked your head in.

Oh good.

It was just Jennifer, your genius chef who was now busy with making a sandwich on the counter while Ryan sat on one of the chairs, his hands clasped together, his back completely straight. Ryan was Ian’s right hand, -ex military, as much as you knew- but unlike Ian, he was much calmer and rational. He was tall and very muscular and didn’t like to talk much, and that added more to the air of mystery he held, considering no one seemed to know much about his past, or his personal life.

“Hey,” you knocked on the door, making both of them turn their heads. “Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all!” Jennifer said as Ryan stood up from his chair.

“Ma’am.”

“Oh don’t!” you motioned at him. “Please don’t stand up, I just…I couldn’t sleep so I figured—”

“Warm milk with honey and cinnamon?” Jennifer finished your sentence for you, making you smile and nod your head.

“Yes please,” you said and pulled yourself a chair, resting your elbows on the counter. Ryan eyed you, then sat down as well.

“There you go!” Jennifer said, putting the plate in front of him, then smiled at him. “Chef’s special sandwich.”

“Thanks Jen,” Ryan said, his voice gruff and Jennifer turned to you.

“Would you like one as well?”

“Ah no, thank you,” you said and heaved a sigh. Jennifer stole a look at you.

“Are you alright?”

“Too many thoughts,” you muttered, leaning your chin on your fist. “Ryan, are you married?”

Ryan’s head shot up as he chewed on his bite, then cleared his throat.

“No ma’am.”

“Any partner?”

“No ma’am.”

“He’s single,” Jennifer said with a grin. “And all my friends are very eager to change that.”

Ryan offered her an almost abashed smile and shifted his weight on the chair as if he was uncomfortable with the sudden attention while Jennifer put your glass of honeyed milk with cinnamon in front of you with a couple of cookies on the plate.

“Thank you so much,” you said as you took a sip, then bit on the cookie.

“Jen, you’re married and in love, right?”

“And I’m also the luckiest woman in the world in addition to all that,” she said, making you smile.

“Do you think people could get married to people they hate?”

“Why would anyone get married to someone they hate?” she asked and Ryan took a huge bite of his sandwich, looking between you.

“Common interests,” you said. “I don’t know, I had this strange thought…”

Jennifer tilted her head. “What?”

You heaved a sigh, then shook your head.

“Nothing,” you said. “Don’t mind me. Just some late-night thoughts, that’s all.”

�� *

By the time you met up with Becca, you still couldn’t stop thinking about last night and Bucky’s proposal, if you could even call it that. It was nonsense, you knew it was, but considering Becca was your best friend, the mere thought of keeping it from her was simply absurd.

“He proposed?” Becca asked, gawking at you. “He actually proposed?”

“Well it was technically a business proposal.”

“And a marriage proposal at the same time?”

You shrugged your shoulders while the waiter filled your coffee cup.

“You know…” Becca trailed off. “Hypothetically speaking—”

“You cannot tell me this is a good idea.”

“I’m not but think about it,” she insisted. “You and Buck already hate each other kinda, so you’re technically already married. You just skipped like ten years into it and got to the resentment part.”

“Becca!”

“You fight like a married couple.”

“If some married couple is fighting like me and Bucky, they should get a divorce,” you pointed out, leaning back in your seat. “I blocked his number, and just…ugh the nerve of the guy, can you believe him?!”

“Mm hm.” Becca said, sipping her matcha before checking her phone. “Oh thank God!”

“What?”

“Sarah is coming to the club this weekend,” she said and pointed at you. “So are you, right?”

“Yeah, me and Ethan.”

“What?”

“I’m bringing Ethan with me,” you explained. “I had to ditch him today, we were supposed to meet for lunch but as you can tell, this couldn’t wait.”

“My brother asking you to marry him even if you hate his guts? Yeah, that beats lunch with the cute ex.”

“And you know, since we’ve been texting a lot, I figured…”

“Yeah yeah, bring him over!” Becca said. “It’ll be fun—oh my God, so my brother’s audacity and ego aside, I need to tell you about the girl I met last night.”

“Yeah, I was going to ask you!” you said. “You said you were in love?”

“I am!” she said with a smile. “You know, I was thinking I could invite her and some friends as well, but now that I think about it, maybe I could just take a page from Bucky’s book and open with a marriage proposal.”

“Becca!”

“I’m just saying, we can just skip to the happily married part, flirting is a waste of time at this point and—”

“You’re not doing that!”

Becca let out a laugh.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Just because it didn’t work for him doesn’t mean it wouldn’t work for me.”

“It wouldn’t work for anyone, Becca,” you told her and she hummed.

“I’ll just say one thing about this, then I’ll talk about the love of my life, alright?”

“Alright,” you said and she turned her cup in the saucer, then clicked her tongue.

“You and Bucky being married is an absurd idea yes,” she said. “But he did have a point.”

“How is that?”

“Well, I’ll ask you the same thing my aunt asked me when I took my civilian boyfriend to my cousin’s wedding, and I have a feeling your answer will be different than mine.”

“Which is?”

She smiled at you mischievously.

“Do you want love poems, or do you want power?”

Your eyes shot up to hers before you shifted your weight, then motioned at her with your hand.

“Come on,” you said. “Enough about that. Tell me about the love of your life.”

You and Becca ended up spending the whole day together, and by the time you decided you would go back home, it was already dark outside. Watching outside as the driver drove you home, you leaned your head on the window, then felt your phone buzzing in your purse so you grabbed it, smiling slightly at the name before answering it.

“Hey there.”

“Hi,” Ethan’s voice reached you, and you could tell he was smiling as well. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” you said. “Full of romance.”

“Romance?”

“Becca is in love,” you said and he let out a whistle.

“Your best friend Becca?”

“Oh yeah,” you said. “I had to talk her out of looking at bridal shops, but we still went cake tasting.”

“Does this person know they’re getting married to Becca?”

“That’s just a small detail,” you joked, making him chuckle. “She invited her to the club for the weekend, I’m pretty excited to meet her. How about you?”

“Do you find data analyzing romantic?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then it was less romantic than your day.”

“And the hospital?” you asked and he took a deep breath.

“Oh everything is fine. Should be free of the bandages next week.”

You bit inside your cheek. “I still feel responsible—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off. “Seriously. The incident had nothing to do with you.”

“Mm hm.”

“Besides, you can’t really blame the rollercoaster if someone gets hurt on one.”

“No one is supposed to get hurt on a rollercoaster,” you pointed out and he thought for a moment.

“Okay in hindsight, it wasn’t the best analogy…”

You pulled your brows together. “Wait, am I the rollercoaster?”

“No! No, you’re sitting next to me on the rollercoaster,” Ethan explained. “We’re both riding it.”

“That’s not—” you started but a black sports car wheezed past yours and sharply drifted sideways as soon as it got in front of your car so that yours would have to stop.

“I’ll call you back Ethan,” you said and hung up the phone, your heart skipping a beat as you grabbed the gun from underneath the seat, looking to your right to see your bodyguards’ car stopping as well. The driver lowered the partition as the bodyguards stepped out of the car.

“It’s Mr. Barnes’ personal car, ma’am,” he said. “I know the plate.”

“Oh Jesus Christ…” you murmured as you put the gun back to where it was and opened your door, then stepped outside at the same time Bucky left his car. Your bodyguards hesitated as soon as they saw him, looking between you and you waved a hand in the air.

“It’s fine guys,” you said and turned to Bucky. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders as if nothing was wrong.

“You blocked my number,” he said. “It’s not like I can text you.”

“And what, it wasn’t enough of a clue?” you asked tersely and Bucky nodded in the direction of his car.

“Come on, get in. We’re going to talk.”

You crossed your arms. “Nope.”

“Charm for fuck’s sake…”

“I’m not going to talk to you, and I’m certainly not getting in your car.”

“You seriously want to do this right here on the road?”

You threw your hands up in frustration. “You are the one who’s blocking the road, motherfucker!”

You could see the petrified expressions on your bodyguards’ faces before one of them gazed up at the sky while the other one put his hands into his pockets and kicked at a tiny pebble on the road, both desperately trying to look like they weren’t hearing you two.

“Listen—”

“I will not,” you retorted. “What is your deal, seriously?”

“We need to talk about last night,” Bucky said and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the bodyguards exchanging glances, so you gritted your teeth and grabbed Bucky’s arm to pull him to the other side of the car in an attempt to get more privacy.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said through your teeth and Bucky ran a hand over his face.

“No I’d say there’s plenty to talk about,” he said. “I mean you didn’t even give me an answer—”

“That poor excuse of a joke doesn’t deserve an answer.”

“It wasn’t a joke to me.”

“Well, it was to me.”

He shook his head slightly.

“Just—” he said. “Why not?”

You raised your brows, gawking at him in disbelief and a look of realization dawned on his face before he heaved a sigh.

“Charm…”

You shot him a mocking smile, crossing your arms.

You and Becca sneaking into nightclubs wasn’t a new thing, and now that you were leaving for college in a month, you were trying to spend as much time together as possible. Becca threw her arm over your shoulder as you walked through the crowd to the bar.

“Two martinis please,” she told the bartender and he took a look at you two, but before he could say anything the other bartender muttered something into his ear, then motioned at you.

“Coming right up,” he ended up saying as you turned to Becca.

“So you were saying?”

“Yeah like, he keeps saying he’s too busy but I’m not buying it—ugh, you gotta be kidding me!”

You frowned, then followed her line of sight to see Bucky and Steve stepping outside from the other exit that led to the back alley behind the club, your heart starting to beat faster.

“Where are they going?”

“They’re probably gonna beat someone up, who cares?” Becca said with a shrug of her shoulders. “He’s in such a mood nowadays, I’m not even gonna let him know I’m here. Arrogant asshole.”

You tilted your head. “…Oh?”

“He and daddy had a huge fight the other night,” she said as she took the drink from the bartender while he put the other one in front of you. “Like my mom had to step in because they were at each other’s throats, that kind of a fight.”

“Why?”

Becca shrugged again. “It’s probably about business. The golden heir made a mistake I guess.”

You took a sip of your drink. “Interesting.”

“Yeah and then he went and broke up with Laura.”

Your head shot up. “They broke up?”

“Yeah!” Becca said. “Which, I’m not sorry at all because she was so annoying, but no girl in the world deserves to get dumped by Bucky so I have mixed feelings about the situation.”

You could feel the small glimmer of hope warming your chest and you pursed your lips together, then cleared your throat.

“I just—I forgot I was gonna call my dad, he gets so mad when I don’t let him know,” you said. “I gotta step outside for a moment, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay!” Becca said and you made your way through the dance floor before reaching the second exit, but before you could open the door, Steve had already beaten you to it.

“Y/N,” he said when he saw you. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you smiled at him. “Um—have you seen Bucky?”

Steve looked over his shoulder, then turned to you with an apologetic smile.

“He’s not…” he trailed off. “He’s not in the best mood.”

“Oh that’s okay,” you said and pushed the door open before he could say anything else, then stepped outside, holding your phone for the sake of appearance. When you saw him, Bucky’s bodyguards were dragging a nearly unconscious man out of the alley while he wiped the blood off his knuckles with a tissue, then lit a cigarette.

You could feel your heart beating in your ears, but you bit down on your lip, fixing your dress before clearing your throat.

“Bucky?”

He turned his head when he heard his name, then exhaled the smoke.

“Hey Charm,” he greeted you, making your heart skip a beat. “Is Becca here too?”

You bit inside your cheek, trying not to get discouraged by that, then nodded your head.

“Um, yeah we just got here.”

“Great,” he murmured. “Tell her not to drink too much, will you?”

You nodded again and smiled at him, your hand shaky a little as you fixed your dress again, desperately hoping it looked good on you.

“I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Yeah well, here I am,” he said, taking a drag of his cigarette, leaning back to the brick wall and you licked your lips.

“And are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Oh, just...” you stammered. “Becca mentioned you and Laura.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. “Happens. I’m fine, it was my call.”

Dear God, he was so handsome that you could just stare at him for hours.

“Are you going to that gala thing as well?” you asked, nervousness pulsing through your system. “My dad is basically dragging me there, is George doing the same?”

His jaw clenched at the mention of his father, and he nodded quietly, exhaling the smoke.

Your voice was trembling a little, your throat incredibly dry because of the nervousness mixed with anticipation, but you still managed to get the words out.

“So I was thinking, do you—um—do you wanna go together?”

That managed to get his attention and he pulled his brows together, then let out a dry laugh.

“Jesus Christ…” he muttered. “What, you rushed here as soon as you heard about me and Laura? Seriously?”

You pulled back slightly, your stomach doing a flip and you shook your head.

“No, I just—”you stammered, tears stinging the back of your eyes already. “I was just thinking—”

“Listen, I know you don’t see it right now, but this little crush of yours is just…” he trailed off with a small chuckle, motioning between you. “It’s kind of adorable, but it’s not going to happen. If I go to that gala with you, you’ll get your hopes up, so will everyone else around us and I’ll end up trapped in something serious—which is out of question. I can’t trust you with the business, not when you’d probably report everything back to your own family and I can’t afford a mistake, not right now.”

You tried to blink back the tears, staring at him as he threw the cigarette butt on the ground, then put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

“Not to mention,” he said. “I don’t go for daddy’s spoiled whiny princess type, and you’d be better off with a nicer guy anyway.”

You could feel the sobs threatening to climb up your chest, so you sniffled and turned around to rush back into the club, leaving him there before he could say anything else.

“Don’t tell me that’s the reason,” Bucky’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you arched a brow.

“I said nothing.”

“It was what, almost ten years ago?” he asked. “I was an idiot—”

“I am really not interested in whatever this bullshit is,” you told him. “And I’m going to be late for dinner, so…”

“Just hear me out first—”

You looked over your shoulder and motioned at the driver. “Turn the car around please!”

The driver did as you asked but before you could step away from Bucky, he grabbed your arm.

“Charm, I can help you get the power you want,” he insisted as you rolled your eyes. “You might hate me right now, but you know I can do that. Just let me get you that crown.”

“We’re done here.” You yanked your arm out of his grip and walked to the car but stopped when you reached it, turning your head to look at him.

“I’m not going to marry you Bucky,” you called out, fully aware that the bodyguards could hear you, and the mere thought gave you a strange sense of satisfaction. “I would never marry you. I don’t go for the arrogant asshole type, and you’d be better off with a nicer girl anyway.”

With that you got in the car, and the driver started driving as soon as you slammed the door shut, the car gliding down the road smoothly.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered to yourself and leaned your head back, closing your eyes. “The fucking audacity.”

Chapter 6

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob! bucky #mob boss!bucky #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky #mob bucky barnes #bucky x reader #mafia bucky x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mob au

386 notes · View notes

bonny-kookoo · 6 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | Part 13

He'll show you it was worth it.

Tags/Warnings: Game Designer!Jungkook, Brat Tamer!Jungkook, kinda himbo!Jungkook, Non Idol AU, established relationship, minor angst, he's in love ew [Tags will be different for every part!]

Length: 1.1k words

Callob with @euphoricfilter ! 💜

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You arrive about half an hour later, and you can't help but sit up straighter as Jungkook pulls up into the driveway of the Airbnb he's rented.

Up until now you've not seen any pictures of it at all- Jungkook being adamant on making sure that you don't ruin the surprise along the way, distracting you whenever you'd bring up the topic at all. So to say that the surprise definitely landed would be an understatement, as you look at the small but very fancy looking house he's currently parking the car at.

A lady walks out, flowery print on her dress while she smiles happily, visibly excited as you and Jungkook exit the car. "Oh you must be the young couple-" She beams, walking towards you with a bit of a limp- probably from old age catching up to her. He gives Jungkook and you a hug before she leans back, looking you up and down. "Well, you weren't lying when you said your girl is pretty!" She compliments, and you have the urge to hide behind your boyfriend for a good moment- only saved by said man taking over quickly, telling Maria to go inside as you both take your stuff with you.

Of course he argues as you want to take your bag- taking it himself instead, absolutely not admitting to any form of struggle at all.

"So! I stocked up the fridge, there's wine too- and I baked something small, just because I had the time left over." She giggles, as Jungkook sets the bags down near the front door for now, walking up to the elderly woman that's standing in the middle of the large interior. "Oh, and I asked my husband about the carpet, and he told me to tell you not to worry about it-" She says a bit more serious. "-Apparently you can just wash these kinds of stains out, no worries there." She winks towards Jungkook, who nods, hoping you don't hear the hidden implications of that statement-

though the glare you send him makes it clear that you do.

"So! I reckon you have the general layout still in mind- treat it like your own home as long as you here." She offers with a gentle hand on Jungkook's shoulder. "Go wild, you're only young once! Ah, and before I forget-" She perks up, before she pulls Jungkook away to whisper something into his ear- something apparently very important, because he looks oddly serious as he nods towards her, the woman patting his back in encouragement of something you're not sure of.

You're busy exploring the holiday home for a good moment, when Jungkook brings the last of your luggage into the bedroom, balcony door opened as you stand on it to look outside. "So? Do you like it?" He asks, standing behind you now, warm body pressed against your back while his chin leans on your shoulder.

"It's.. Jungkook this must've been so fucking expensive, what the hell?" You worry. "And also there's so many towels in the bathroom-" You begin, making him laugh.

"Oh yeah, I told maria you're kinda messy- and since I'm planning on catching up to my highscore while we're here you'll definitely need them-" He begins, making you turn around and smack his pecks- hard. "Ow!" He whines playfully, pouting at you.

"What do you mean, you told Maria about our sex life?!" You complain, and he shrugs.

"Hey I'm pretty proud of our-" He begins, but your glare shuts him up. "Listen, I didn't know if there was like.. a cleaning fine if we mess up stuff too much. And I wanna love you a lot while we're here, so I wanted to make sure I thought of everything!" He explains himself, and you just run a hand over your face. Well, what did you expect anyways?

This is Jungkook, after all. This man coded a full on sex-diary app just for the two of you.

"You know I've been wondering.." You say, leaning your arms over his shoulders, back pressed against the edge of the balcony as he leans in closer, gaze hooded now. "...what spot are you in right now?" You ask, and his face immediately morphs, eyes sharp as his tongue presses into the inside of his cheek.

"..maybe third." He mumbles, before he pulls you back inside by your waist sitting on the edge of the soft bed with you on his lap, eyes hungry while his hands travel beneath your shirt. "But I'll sure be first again once this trip has finished." He tells you like a decision made, no arguments allowed.

"You sure about that?" You wonder, pushing him against his chest until he's left laying on the mattress below, your hands pressed into the softness.

"Absolutely." He says, before pulling your face towards him, licking up all remnants of your strawberry lipbalm and sweet icecream treat you had earlier before arriving. Your hips grind on him without any shame, sounds that escape him singing of his own growing arousal as he lets his fingers dip between the fabric of your pants and your skin. They know exactly where they want to go, moving around until he's got a full hold of your ass, only removing his palms from beneath your jeans to slap back down with open palms.

You move to throw your shirt over your head- his fingers eager to unhook your bra for you, when he sees them.

His movements stutter a bit, face showing utter devastation as his round eyes find yours with worry. "You changed them." He says out of breath, quietly, and you look down at your chest, noticing that yes- you did change the jewelry.

"Oh.. yeah." You admit, making his hands gently hold your tits just to run his thumb over the two little wings on each side of your nipples. They're cute- very fitting, and he wonders where you bought them. But they're also not the little silver hearts you both always wear ever since your second big date.

"...I'll make you love me again." He promises, pulling you down again to kiss you, before he rolls you both over, pressing eager kisses to your neck.

"I still love you-" You argue with a giggle, removing his shirt to be met with the familiar metal jewelry you used to wear as well before you changed them out of pettiness.

"Then I'll make you love me the same as you did before I was a jerk." He urges, pushing you up on the bed a little to properly climb on it, knees dipping down into the soft bedding below you.

"I do that too!" You laugh, and he playfully bites at your collarbone, before looking at you with a gaze made of thousands of lifetimes worth of affection.

"Then I'll make you love me even more." He offers, while you hold his cheeks in your palms, equally as struck by cupid's arrow.

"Impossible.." You say, pulling him closer. "But you're welcome to try."

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook fanfic

365 notes · View notes

hwaslayer · 4 months

Text

project: make you love me (jyh) | thirteen.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 5.9k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, date with yunho!! 🥰, yunho and oc talk a bit about family dynamics, oc meets his mom and aunt <33, just a sprinkle of seonghwa, lots of sweet kisses, making out, breast play, unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, clit play, teasing, a lil bit of a handjob, multiple orgasms (2 lol), praising, post-sex cuddles!, sorry if i missed anything - quickly edited 😅

"Why are you doing that?" Yunho laughs, grabbing at your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze from the driver's seat to prevent you from fiddling with your fingers even more.

"I'm nervous." You pout and Yunho can't help but squish your cheeks.

"It's gonna be fine." Yunho smiles before shifting his attention back to the road. "Mom couldn't stop texting me about how excited she was to finally meet you."

"Me?" You ask him, almost in disbelief. "What if she sees me and she changes her mind!"

"She won't. She wouldn't do that over—" Yunho pauses and you can see the tip of his ear turn red, a faint rosy tint also creeping up to the surface of his cheeks.

"Over?"

"Nevermind."

"Hey, that's not fair." You playfully pinch him on the bicep, making him chuckle in his response. "Say it, Jeong Yunho."

"Not the government name." You glare at him and he shakes his head in defeat. "I was just gonna say she wouldn't do that over someone I'm sure about." Your eyes widen at the response before you smile and giggle.

"You mean that?"

"Of course I do." He laughs, placing a kiss on the surface of your hand. "So trust me when I say don't worry, okay? They'll adore you."

"Okay." Your bottom lip pokes out a bit. Today, Yunho was taking you on a date. To where? He wouldn't tell you. He wouldn't budge, no. But, you do know you're meeting his mom and aunt over a small dinner at the house, your nerves running wild since the moment you've hit the road. It's been awhile since your last relationship, and you really, really adore Yunho.

You don't wanna mess this up.

You are in love with him, and you hope they like you just like he promises they will. You are already hoping to build a good relationship with them, especially if you plan to be around. You can't help but think of your own mom and sister, hoping you'll be able to be plan something soon for them so they can officially meet Yunho in the right circumstances.

Since you're in Yunho's hometown, you aren't too familiar with what's around. You keep your eyes fixed on the scenery passing you by, listening to Yunho softly hum to the music in the background while he continues to drive off to the first destination. He seems to be taking you to the outskirts, driving deeper to the point where the small city fades into the back while the greenery begins to take over. He has to drive on a narrow path before he's navigating through a beaten, dirt path and into a lot that is surrounded by apple trees.

"Yunho." You continue to look out the window as he pulls into a spot in between two trees, a few other cars lining down the aisle.

"Yes?" He shuts off the car and unbuckles his seatbelt, looking at you with a sly smirk on his face.

"What're we doing?"

"Apple picking." You squeal and clap your hands, no longer able to contain your excitement. You had briefly mentioned going fruit picking to Yunho, stating it as a bucket list item of yours. He swings your door open to help you out of the car before leading you to the bins to place your apples in. Yunho hands you one, pleading for you to try and not fill it up too much so the bin doesn't get too heavy. He leads you down the open trail, already picking at a few nice apples along the branches. You stick closer to the ones in close proximity to your height, eyes lighting up every time you're able to snag a pretty one off the branches.

"Aw, I love this." You giggle, picking a few more off of the nearby branches. "They all look too pretty to eat."

"I know. I'm grabbing a few for my mom and aunt." Yunho effortlessly grabs a few off the taller branches, placing them gently into the bin. "Wanna save some for your mom and sister?"

"Just a few. I'm not even sure when if I'll see them in time. Otherwise Soobin, Chaery and Seungmo can eat them." He smiles.

"Sounds like a plan. Are they around for break?"

"In and out. I think the person who is staying here the most is Soobin. Chaery and Seungmin have a couple of plans with their families."

"Mm."

"What about Yeo?"

"He'll mostly be at the apartment." He caresses your chin. "What about you?"

"Ah, my family isn't big on doing things. We'll celebrate for the holidays but that's all."

"You should. I'd love to meet your mom and sister again.. under better circumstances." You laugh.

"You will." You and Yunho continue to walk down the path, each stopping to take photos of each other under the crisp, afternoon sunlight. Once you're satisfied with the amount of apples in your bin, you take them to the weighing scale and pay for the apples before grabbing a small snack of freshly baked apple fritters and tea. You and Yunho sit at a picnic table to enjoy the sun slowly settling below the horizon. Yunho shows you his new lockscreen while you eat; a picture of you holding an apple next to your cheek while you cutely smile.

"You're really cute." He smiles at his phone just before tossing his wrappers into the trash can.

"You take the best photos of me. You sure you aren't into photography or anything?" He shakes his head.

"No. Just like taking pictures of you, thats all." You blush. "We should probably get going. There's one more place I wanna take you before we head to my house for dinner."

"Where?" He smirks.

"It's just 15 mins away. I think you'll like it. We'll only be there for an hour since the event is gonna end soon."

"Hm, okay Yunho. Surprise me some more." You tease with a giggle.

"I will." He kisses you on the temple before holding your hand and heading back to the car. The sun hasn't completely set yet, but the skies are filled with orange and red hues as you continue to drive along to your next destination. Yunho drives off to a nearby park that holds rollerskating events in the evening, except tonight would be its last night before it's converted to an ice skating rink. Yunho talks a bit about how he spent a lot of time at this park with his friends when he was young, and how they've done a lot to make the park nicer over the years. Now, they hold plenty of events that bring the community together.

When he pulls into another lot, you can already hear the music blaring from within the park. It's muffled due to the trees surrounding the area, but the park is well lit even though the sun hasn't fully set. There are string lights hanging from tree to tree, even around the picnic tables that are planted around the area. As Yunho continues to walk down the path, you see a circular rink where people are rollerskating. There is a DJ blasting music off to the side, and a booth where you can rent skates.

"Rollerskating?" Your eyes light up. "Yunho?!"

"Thought we could give it a try together before they get rid of it."

"You're the best." You tippy-toe to wrap your arms around his neck, planting a sweet kiss against his lips. His large hands come to squeeze your side, holding the kiss for as long as he can before he slightly pulls away.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you something." He brushes the hair away from your face, thumb coming down to caress your cheek. You feel the butterflies swirling in your stomach when Yunho looks at you, his touch simple but warm, safe.

Comforting.

"What is it, Yunho?"

"I just really, really like you, Y/N. You make me happy, and you make me feel safe. I don't feel like I have to be someone I'm not, and that's the best feeling. I don't know, you just.. bring out the best in me. It sounds cliché, but I mean it when I say I haven't felt this way before."

"I feel the same." You caress his jaw. You would have never known that asking Yunho for help would lead to this— would lead to him being a special person in your life, someone you can't imagine your days without.

"So, I-I was hoping that, maybe, you could be my girlfriend?" You giggle and hug him again, nodding to give him his answer.

"I'd love to be." He cups your cheeks and brings you in for another kiss.

"Phew. I was actually losing my shit on the way here." You laugh as Yunho leads the way to the rental booth. "I kept rehearsing it in my head."

"Why?! Did you think I was gonna reject you?"

"Uh, yeah?" He gives you a look.

"No, never."

"Never, hm?" He teases before shifting his attention to the staff member at the booth. He pays for the rentals and hands you your skates, giving you the green light to walk over to the nearest bench and slip them in. You used to rollerskate when you were younger, but it's been years and you've only tried inline skating. Yunho already seems to be more pro than you because he's standing on his two feet comfortably, while your knees are shaking and you can't seem to fully stand up. He laughs as he comes closer, creating a bit of distance to give you some space to get used to the feeling. "Slowly, baby. Shift your weight a bit." You pout as you continue to practice, finally getting into a rhythm after a good 10 minutes.

"I think I should be okay." You say, comfortably skating over to Yunho without wobbling around. He nods and takes your hand, slowly skating over to join the crowd at the rink. "How are you literally so good at everything?"

"Nah." He laughs. "We'll go slow, okay? Everyone's going at their own pace." You smile, trusting in Yunho to take care of you. You easily begin to get comfortable with the music blasting in the background, skating alongside your man as the rest of the crowd enjoys themselves. Today was such an eventful day that you're wishing it never ends. All you find yourself doing while skating is laughing with Yunho and squealing every time you feel like you're going a little too fast and lose your balance.

You feel like you're on cloud nine and you wish you can stay in this moment forever with him.

The hour wraps up quick, and the DJ is having to end the night with a bittersweet speech about how he'll miss playing for this event. You and Yunho return the skates to the booth and slip back into your shoes, rushing over to the car before the lot could get too packed from everyone leaving at once. You laugh when Yunho quickly reverses and heads out of the lot, joking about how you've never seen him move that fast. When you're finally out and away from traffic, Yunho relaxes a little and takes you back into the central part of town for dinner.

"Yuyu?" He lets out a small chuckle hearing the Chaery-granted nickname slip from your lips. Nonetheless, he's grown a liking to it and loves having a nickname you two enjoy.

"Hm?" He hums.

"Do you remember anything about your dad?" You flat out pose the question without thinking. He doesn't answer right away so you immediately follow-up with a— "Wait, I'm sorry. We don't have to do this right now if you aren't ready."

"No, love. It's fine. I'm okay talking about it, it's just not a common topic for me." He flashes you a small, reassuring smile. "To answer your question, no, I really don't remember anything about him. I remember seeing him come and go in the apartment we lived in when I was younger, and I remember seeing going with him to see some of his side of the family. But even then, those bits are blurred. I can't imagine what he looks like now, I can't make out a height. I can't make out much of his features." Your heart sinks.

"I'm so sorry, Yunho."

"It's okay. You don't have to apologize." He shrugs. "Part of me wishes I knew a bit more than what I know, but then I think about my mom and how she never gave up on me. She gave me everything even when times were tough. She treated me well and raised me well. She never tried to raise her voice at me and she never scolded me the way other parents would. She knew how to communicate with me even when I was small. I guess I never really needed him in the first place. I didn't feel the lack of love or support anywhere."

"That's amazing. I can tell you adore your mom to bits. It must have been tough for her, and I can only imagine."

"It was. It was really tough. But, we got through it together. I tried to fill in the empty spaces as much as possible."

"You're her world, that's more than enough. I know she appreciates you so much." He smiles at you, thumb running over the back of your hand. "There's nothing that could replace you, or any other love that could be better."

"My aunt says I kinda look like him." He chuckles. "But, she says she's glad I'm the complete opposite. My mom likes to remind her that I'm hers only." You laugh.

"How cute. You are hers."

"I know you said your dad comes around, but how is he with your mom nowadays?"

"They're good. I mean, like I said, they're better this way. They still bicker but it's not like before." You let out a soft sigh. "At first, she didn't understand why my sister and I still wanted to see him and have a relationship with him after the divorce. She was hurt, I guess. After everything they've been through. But, my dad never neglected us. He was still a good dad. He still is, even with the distance. He tries."

"That's good. Sometimes, they stop when all that goes down so it's good he still tries and is present in your lives."

"Yeah, I think so. Eventually, my mom understood that we still wanted him to be in our lives no matter what. And, I think she could see he felt the same."

"That's nice. Do you see him for holidays?"

"He'll pop in for a little." Yunho nods. "Even though I'm nervous, I can't wait to meet your mom and aunt." You shift the topic back to his family.

"Hm, really?" He chuckles. "I can't wait for you to meet them, too. Especially since we're right around the corner."

"Already?!" He nods.

"Already. She told me they prepped a lot of food so.. should be fun."

"Now I'm even more nervous." You whine a bit and he laughs.

"It'll be fine, baby. Trust me." The petname makes your stomach do flips, but you can't really think about that now. He pulls around the corner and into the driveway of the 5th house down the street. The lights in the house are all on, and you can faintly see shadows moving around in what you assume is the kitchen area. "Ready?" He unbuckles his seatbelt and gives you a soft smile.

"Mhm." Yunho comes to assist you in the passenger's side, grabbing the bag of apples from behind your seat to bring into the house. He takes his keys from the carabiner hanging on his jeans, unlocking the door to a fairly loud house— mainly due to the TV in the living room.

"Hello?" Yunho calls out and you hear his aunt scream in excitement.

"Yunho! You made it." His mom greets him first before his aunt does. She looks at you with a soft smile, immediately welcoming you into her arms.

"This is Y/N." He steps aside to let you finish greeting his mom and his aunt, the both of them wrapping you into big, tight hugs.

"She's a pretty one, how did you manage to snag her?" His aunt teases, making his mom smack her on the arm in response.

"Yeah, right?" Yunho playfully agrees anyway.

"Come on, Y/N! Make yourself feel at home. Food is ready, I'm sure you two are starving."

"Thank you." You smile at her and follow her into the dining area. The table is set nicely, with a few candles in the center to help bring in some warmth and those winter season smells you love so much. You almost feel bad that they've cooked so much food, but Yunho is happy and he's excited to dig in. He pulls out your chair before sitting next to you, hand on your thigh to give it a comforting, reassuring squeeze.

"Y/N, please. Go ahead and start. What drinks do you two want?" His aunt asks.

"I'll help you."

"I'm okay with water. Thank you." Yunho stands to help his aunt with the drinks, his mom sitting in front of you with a smile on her face.

"It really is so nice to finally meet you. Yunho doesn't stop talking about you." You hear Yunho clear his throat as he hands you a cup of water.

"Not like that. I take some breaks in between." He jokes.

"He definitely doesn't." His mom corrects him, handing you the bowl of rice. "It's cute to see him all shy like this. He really likes you, and I can see why." You giggle.

"Oh, well. I can say the same." You help yourself to some rice before passing more food around the table. "Yunho's very sweet. He helped me a lot with one of our classes."

"That's cute." His aunt plops onto her seat and laughs. "Tell us about yourself, Y/N. We've been dying to meet you." You laugh, proceeding to tell them more about yourself, your mom, dad and sister. As you've continued to talk about your childhood and how things have been over the years, you find yourself comfortable enough to open up about both the highs and lows being with your family. It was nice to hear Yunho's mom and aunt reassure you, telling you it was nice that your family still got along no matter the circumstance.

Then, you and Yunho talked a little bit more about school and how you two got close over literature class. You shyly praise him in front of his family, telling them how one of your favorite things about him was his humor and how laidback he's always been. Yunho's mom tells you that Yunho has always remained the same throughout the years— that he's always been the same 'sweet, affectionate, funny-boned' boy she's always adored.

After a good, long dinner, you and Yunho help clean up in the kitchen, tagteaming on dishes while his mom and aunt cleaned the table and around the counters. His mom packs you both some leftovers, telling you to share with your roommates. She packs it neatly into separate bags for you and Yunho, handing it over with a sweet smile on her face.

"It's late. You should've just stayed." You hug Yunho's aunt before hugging his mom. She keeps her arm around you, gently rubbing at your back as she continues to softly scold Yunho.

"It's not that late, mom. I'll be okay."

"Still! It's dark out and you have a two hour drive ahead of you."

"I know, I know. Next time." He looks at his mom. "May I have my girlfriend back?"

"Maybe." His mom teases back. "Promise me you'll stay next time."

"Promise." Yunho winks at his mom as he finally gets a hold of your hand and leads you out to the car.

"Mhm. I saw that. Seriously, come back soon, okay? You two better stay here next time." His aunt says, making you laugh as you wave.

"We will. I'll make sure of it." You respond.

"I really like her." His aunt says loud enough for you to hear, causing you to giggle to yourself while you settle into the passenger's seat.

"Yunho." His mom calls out just as he's about to step in, one leg already thrown into the car.

"Huh?"

"Drive safely."

"Of course. I'll tokyo drift all the way back to the apartment, how's that? Gets me there faster."

"Jeong Yunho!" She playfully scolds him.

"Kidding. I will!" He laughs and waves her off, finally getting into the car.

"Stop teasing your mom like that." You chuckle.

"It's funny, isn't it?"

"You're too much." Yunho smiles and kisses your hand just before holding it.

"Mm, wanna watch a movie when we get back? If you're not too tired."

"I'm down."

"You're gonna fall asleep on the way, aren't you?"

"Maybe." You shyly admit. You are feeling pretty exhausted after your day, but you're trying your hardest not to give in so you can continue to keep Yunho company on the long drive back. "But, I'm trying to stay up so I can keep you company.

"It's okay, baby." He says softly, eyes glued onto the road ahead. "If you wanna nap, you should nap."

"What about you?" You yawn, head leaning back against the headrest.

"I'm used to these drives. I'll be okay. Promise."

"Okay." You feel your eyes getting heavy. It isn't long before you fall asleep, Yunho turning down the music and turning up the heat. Quite frankly, he is tired. But, he wasn't lying when he said he was used to these drives. Plus, overall, he does enjoy driving. It soothes him, relaxes him.

He can't wait to get back home and cuddle with you over a movie.

You're his, and he is yours.

The thought alone makes Yunho feel so giddy inside.

After a somewhat grueling 2 hours, Yunho finally pulls into the familiar lot. You had woken up about 30 minutes ago, and Yunho is glad you did or else he'd feel terrible having to wake you up from a good slumber in the car. The both of you make your way back up to his apartment, finding that Yeosang isn't home. The apartment is dark, but warm. It's spotless and it's incredibly quiet.

You make your way to the restroom to quickly freshen up and change into Yunho's shirt for the night. You brush your teeth and finish up your bedtime routine before stepping out, seeing Yunho sitting on the living room floor while flipping through the movie options.

"I'll be back." He points to the TV. "I kinda just settled on that new Leave the World Behind movie."

"Sounds good to me." He quickly eyes his shirt on you, no bottoms. And god, it instantly drives him crazy. Before he could fall too deep into his feelings, Yunho waddles off to the bathroom to get ready for the evening and changed into some sweats and a shirt. By the time he heads back out to the living room, you've shut off all the lights, and you've paused the movie right at the beginning. Your eyes are fixed on your phone, and a few texts come in. But, Yunho doesn't really pay much attention to it and instead plops onto the ground right in front of you.

chaery: hello?! I SAW YOUR STORY. did he finally ask you to be his gf?! holy shit!!

seungmin: y/n's tied down now ayeeee

soobin: congrats!! when's the wedding!!

seonghwa: i see you're around for break.

seonghwa: wanted to see you really quickly and apologize. you don't have to do anything or say anything, but at least hear me out.

You roll your eyes at the two texts from Seonghwa, quickly responding to your roommates before locking your phone and tossing it aside.

"You don't wanna sit up here?" Your arms hang over Yunho as your chin rests on his head.

"I need to stretch." He laughs. "Sorry pretty. I'll be right here." He resumes the movie just as you kiss the top of his head and switch your attention to the screen.

The both of you are equally invested in the movie, even as you continue to hang over Yunho while he holds onto your arms. You've barely even reached halfway when catch yourself ogling at Yunho's hands and the veins that run through them. You peek over to see how glued he is to the movie, eyeing his side profile before placing a gentle kiss on his temple, cheek. He giggles a bit before looking up at you, the mood in the room doing a complete flip when he sees the look in your eyes.

It's the same look he had when he was checking you out in his shirt.

"What's up, cutie?"

"I just wanna say thank you for today."

"You don't have to thank me."

"I do. I really enjoyed it, so thank you, babe."

"Of course. Is there anything else on your mind?"

"Just wanna kiss you."

"That's it?" He teases, watching as you dip forward to close in on his lips.

"Maybe." You whisper just as you kiss him. At first, the kiss is sweet, innocent. The next moment, it's deeper, more intense— your tongue dancing around with his while the movie is a long-gone thought in the background. Yunho gently bites onto your bottom lip before pulling back; eyes full of lust meeting yours.

"Do you wanna move to the room?" He licks his lips while his eyes dart from your eyes, back down to your lips.

"Mhm." You respond softly, hands still cupping Yunho's cheeks. He smiles and plants a quick kiss to your lips before standing to his feet. He shuts off the movie and helps you up from the couch, leading you to his room. Yunho shuts his door, watching as you climb into bed and under the covers. It's not long before he joins you— slightly hovering over you as he pulls the covers over his body.

"Baby." He calls lowly.

"Yeah?" Your fingers are tangled at the ends of his hair, eyes scanning every feature on Yunho's face— his long lashes, his pink lips, his doe eyes, his soft, black hair. You adore everything about Yunho, and you can't help but melt in his hold.

"Is it okay if I keep going..?" You nod quietly as Yunho leans in to meet your lips again, hand coming up underneath your shirt to caress your bare skin. His hand his warm against the surface, and it's enough to light up your entire body; fireworks going off every time Yunho deepens the kiss a little more. He gives your side a squeeze, lips now trailing down to the corner of your lips, your jaw.

Neck.

Yunho takes his time on your neck, though. And god, do you love every bit of it. You squirm underneath him, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip when you feel Yunho's tongue glide across the surface before gently sucking on it, when you feel him slowly rocking his hips against you. He catches the way you continue to bite onto your lip, smirking against your skin just as he places another kiss at the base.

Down to your collarbone.

"Can I?" He whispers, slowly lifting up the edge of your shirt. You nod, lifting yourself up to help Yunho tug the shirt over your head and onto the floor. He takes a moment to admire your bare chest, eyes glowing at how beautiful you look underneath him. "So pretty." His eyes are now glued onto yours as he continues to leave a trail of kisses down your chest. His tongue glides over to a nipple, popping the bud into his mouth before working his tongue in a circular motion. You let out a small whimper and Yunho feels the blood rush straight down to his dick.

He can't wait to have all of you. To have a taste, to feel you around him.

As his and his only.

He moves to the next bud, sucking gently before repeating the circular motions around your nipple— pulling back with a small pop. You feel the goosebumps heighten on your arms, the pleasure already surging through your veins.

"Taking these off." Yunho says as he makes his way down, finger slightly dipping underneath the waistband of your pjay bottoms. You watch as he sheds off your bottoms and panties, tossing them off to the side to join your [his] shirt on the floor. You feel incredibly shy being this bare, this vulnerable, in front of Yunho. But, the feeling dissipates when he smiles in awe; his large hands caressing your thighs and giving them a kiss. "You're so beautiful." He plants a kiss to your inner thigh. "Wanna make you feel good, love." He watches for your response as he softly nibbles on your inner thigh.

"Please." You respond, almost whimpering for him to continue. Your breath hitches when you feel his thumb graze over your folds then press on your clit. He starts to rub your already sensitive nub in slow, circular motions to test the waters, before diving in with his tongue against you. His other hand is gripping your thigh, keeping your legs spread open so he could get you in all angles, taste every drop of you. "Yunho." You breathily moan, hands tangled in his hair as he continues to lap at your folds and suck on your clit. He proceeds with slipping a finger inside of you, pumping at a slow and steady pace while continuing to work his tongue on you. It's not long before he's slipping another digit in— this time, watching your reaction from in between your thighs, biting onto his lip every time you squirm and moan for him to keep going.

Yunho finds, at this very moment, that he can't get enough of you. He wants to be the only one who keeps making you feel good, and he wants to keep hearing you like this. He wants to be everything for you, as long as you'll let him.

"All this for me, hm?" He hums, feeling his digits coated in your slickness. He quickly removes his fingers and replaces the pleasure with his tongue again, allowing you to grind against him when he picks up his pace— lapping at your folds and flicking at your clit; sucking every drop of you he can get.

"Oh—Yunho!” You almost yell his name, hands now gripping his hair as you continue to grind against his mouth. He lets out a groan against you, sending the vibrations straight to your core. "Oh shit, I'm—" Your statement is broken because your mind is fuzzy with your orgasm approaching quick. You're probably gripping on Yunho's hair a little too tightly without realizing but he doesn't mind. Especially when your face contorts in pleasure, a beautiful, strangled moan leaving your lips as you twitch in his grip. He keeps your legs opened, mouth still latched onto you until you've come down from your high. "Oh my god." You mumble and Yunho chuckles.

"You okay, baby?" You nod just as Yunho leans forward to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. "Wanna feel you." He takes your hand and presses it against his hardened cock. He hisses at your touch, shutting his eyes for a brief moment as you palm him through his sweats. "See what you do to me? Want all of you."

"You have me, Yunho." You tug at his shirt, giving him leverage to shed it off and toss it on the floor. "You have me." You repeat. He simply sheds off his sweats and boxers, his cock springing free from its confines. You can't help but ogle at how he's built— his toned abs, his biceps, his pretty, thick cock. You help yourself and continue to stroke him for a bit, pumping at a slow pace while your thumb spreads the pre-cum all over his tip. He lets out a shaky breath just as he lowers himself onto you, planting kisses along your jaw and neck.

"Fuck. I don't have any condoms." He pauses and looks at you, but you respond by shaking your head.

"It's fine. I'm on birth control. And clean. Promise." You reassure him, knowing you made sure to get tested after Seonghwa just in case. He nods and takes his length in his hand, gently tapping it against your folds and nudging the tip against your clit to tease you.

"Ready?"

"Yes. Need you." Yunho wastes no time pushing himself into you slowly, burying himself to the hilt. He pauses for a minute to adjust to the feeling, giving you a moment to take him in. His forehead is pressed against yours as he lays a kiss on the tip of your nose, moving down to your lips. He holds the kiss for a second before parting, savoring the feeling of your lips against his for the brief moment.

Yunho begins to pick up his pace, letting out a small groan when he feels how tight you are. He loves seeing your back slightly arch, the goosebumps forming on your skin when he touches you lightly— lips grazing the surface of your collarbones, chest, just ghosting over your nipples. You moan his name when he quickly sucks on your buds, snapping his hips at a faster pace. The room is filled with sounds of skin against skin, wet kisses and moans that are nothing short of pornographic. Yunho thrusts hard one, two, three times, his mouth swallowing the loud moan you let out.

"God, you feel so good around me." He says. "Like you were meant for me."

"I am." You cutely respond and Yunho lets out a shaky breath.

"Mmmfuck." Yunho lets out just as he takes his thumb to your clit. You feel the tingle down your spine, the pleasure building in your gut, as Yunho rolls his hips in a steady fashion; enough to drive you crazy, pushing you close to the edge. "Gotta cum for me, baby."

"So close." You moan, gently biting at his bottom lip and tugging it back. "I'm so close, babe."

"That's my girl." He says, taking note of how you continue to squirm in his hold, your walls clenching around him.

That's it.

You're my babygirl.

So good for me.

He continues to praise you in your ear until he finally tips you over the edge, eyes shut close as you let out a string of moans— calling his name like a mantra. Yunho feels you squeeze him, walls wrapping him so tightly he might just lose himself right at this moment. So, he locks his hands with yours— holding it against the pillow as he thrusts into you and chases his own high.

Luckily, Yeosang hasn't walked in yet or else he's not really sure how Yeo would react to hearing your loud moans. Yunho doesn't care much to shush you right now, though. He loves hearing it. He's basking in all of this, all of you.

"Y/N—" He groans. "Baby, where do you want me?"

"Inside, please." You're finally meeting his gaze with those doe-eyes of yours and Yunho lets himself go. He moans as his hips stutter, coating your walls as he releases and fills you up. It takes a moment before he comes back down from his orgasm, Yunho looking at you through hooded eyes before lazily planting a kiss on your lips.

"You okay?" He whispers, brushing the hair away from your face.

"Mhm." You kiss him again before he leaves the covers, snatching a piece of tissue from his desk to clean you up.

"I'll grab you some water. Do you want anything else, love?" You shake your head and slip back into his shirt.

"No, thank you." He smiles while throwing on his boxers and sweats, walking out to grab some cold water. He comes back shortly, shutting his door before handing you the water. You take a few gulps before you're satisfied, leaving the water aside to slip under the covers and get comfortable. Yunho immediately pulls you into his arms; one arm around your neck, with the other wrapped around your waist. "You're so warm." He chuckles.

"Good. As long as you're okay." He kisses your forehead. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"You’re everything to me.”

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh @kyeos4ng @agust-d2 @araknoid @bintificreads @primoppang @betray-the-light @aurorasjoongie @wineyoungie @yunholuvrsblog @mingigiggles @jaerisdiction @ignoretheskies @luminouskalopsia @naeviscall @vixensss @choisansplushie @arya9111 @my-lightspirit @dazednconfusion @astro-doll-the-star @faesmingi

331 notes · View notes

sitp-recs · 29 days

Note

Favourite Drarry recs (long fics maybe? pretty please?) that are ideally to enjoy this Spring season ?

Hello again! That’s a great ask - I have a long fic rec list that you might find interesting, but this inspired me to do something more specific with Spring vibes feat house renovations, cooking as love language, gardening, domesticity, no angst romance etc etc etc. This is 100% based on my own perception of spring vibes btw, but I hope you’ll enjoy these as much as I did!

💐 Short fic:

magic in the making by @getawayfox (G, 2k)

I didn’t see Malfoy for a year after the trial. When Gin told me that, according to Pansy, he had opened a little posh bakery in Mayfair, I thought she was joking, so I went to see for myself.

Market Saturdays by @sorrybutblog (M, 3k)

In which Harry is an accidental part-time cheesemonger, Draco is an organic farmer and they fall in love. Not an AU.

The Long Fall by @tackytigerfic (M, 3.6k)

It's supposed to be a simple house renovation, and maybe it's just the paint fumes, but Harry is feeling dizzy around Draco Malfoy. And what's the real meaning of family, anyway?

Ice Snakes, Glow-worms and Wolverine Stew by khalulu (M, 8k)

Harry Potter apparently wants to talk to Draco about something, but odd events keep getting in the way of that conversation – and bringing them closer together. Featuring serpentine travels, misbehaving birds, dubious roofing projects, a gay beach, and an unexpected matchmaker.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (T, 9k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

A Truth Universally Acknowledged by @sorrybutblog (M, 17k)

A year out from the war, Harry agrees to accompany Hermione on a historical walking tour of Pride and Prejudice. Not in the itinerary: running into Draco Malfoy, setting off a summer of stately homes, lavish parties, resentful shagging, and maybe, falling in love.

amid this warm and steady sweetness, orphaned (E, 21k)

Harry is not living in a period drama, no matter what his friends or his new house or Malfoy’s sudden affinity for horse-riding might suggest, and if one more person uses the word courting, he’s going to start hexing people.

💐 Long fic

Moldova's Magical Tea by @aibidil (E, 32k)

Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and—to everyone’s surprise—Draco Malfoy are opening a magical tea shop to revive wizarding tea culture and, hopefully, to bring the community together after the war. Harry, who is unemployed and trying to find his way in post-war society, wants to help his friends with their new business—but that means spending a lot of time around Malfoy.

Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon by @drarrytrash (E, 36k)

According to Harry’s personal narrative regarding the incident, he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy for purely self-destructive reasons, or out of convenience, or by some unlucky accident. Looking at him, sprawled in the moonlight, Harry is devastated to recall that he’d hooked up with Draco Malfoy because he’s hot.

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 (T, 40k)

Harry Potter’s life is fine. Maybe a little dull and predictable, but he shouldn’t complain about that, right? When he unexpectedly finds himself at Luna’s house one afternoon, Harry gets invited to join the secret wonderland that she’s creating with a surprising group of friends. Maybe a summer outdoors is just what a former hero needs to bring some zest back into his life.

Through the May Air, Over the Ocean by tsauergrass (T, 45k)

Draco Malfoy never expected to find himself in Scotland or being stuck in a cottage with Potter—but wonders never cease. A story about warmth, a story about falling back in love. A story about a flock of sheep in the distant fells of Scotland.

Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (E, 46k) - Muggle AU

Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order.

Sweeten to Taste by @saintgarbanzo, @babooshkart (E, 51k)

It starts with Draco's buckwheat crepes with honeyed oranges. Or maybe it starts with his porridge with toasted walnuts and homemade apple butter. Or perhaps it starts with the cinnamon buns Draco made from scratch with mascarpone icing. Harry just knows he's hungry for more.

Against All Odds by momatu (E, 54k)

Beauxbatons is hosting the first ever Quidditch Summer School for children from all over Europe, and Harry has promised to enroll Teddy as his birthday present. Meanwhile, Draco is stuck in his office, putting together the first ever Quidditch Summer School for children from all over Europe during, when he should be enjoying summer holidays.

What Branches Grow by @the-fools-errand (M, 55k)

When a run-of-the-mill investigation turns up evidence that the Death Eaters may be resurfacing, Harry seems to be the only one who believes Malfoy has anything to do with it. Yet according to official records, he’s been the poster child for the Ministry’s post-war Rehabilitation program, living in a small muggle town in Wales.

Meet Me at Midnight by @the-starryknight (T, 57k)

Harry was beginning to wonder if he’d ever make anything again when Malfoy stormed through the door of Harry’s furniture shop. Now Harry’s got an impossible Ministry commission to finish, and even less energy than ever to deal with his elusive muse. That is, until he stumbles upon the surreal and beautiful world of a mysterious fae creature…

Stately Homes of Wiltshire by waspabi (E, 58k)

Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.

The Promise of Summer by Omi_Ohmy (M, 66k)

How was Harry supposed to know that coming back for eighth year would be so confusing? Everything is the same, and yet not the same. And nowhere is this more obvious than with Draco Malfoy. Harry finds himself once more watching and following Malfoy, trying to work him out. When they are drawn together to heal the castle, Harry doesn’t just find Malfoy - he also finds himself.

Home Truths by @skeptiquewrites and @fantalfart (E, 67k)

In the off-season Harry decided to fix up Grimmauld Place and found that Draco Malfoy was the only person who could help him. A demanding career and unrelenting press scrutiny were enough to deal with before Harry added a house with a mind of its own, family history, and a tense, flirty, complicated relationship with his childhood nemesis to the mix.

The Claiming of Grimmauld Place by @bixgirl1 (E, 74k)

When Grimmauld Place begins fighting against Harry’s ownership of it, he decides he needs help to train the historic home — but little does he expect that it’ll be Malfoy who’s most suitable for the challenge. However, as Malfoy and Harry get closer, Harry comes to understand that expectations aren’t always the best path by which to guide his heart — and in the process learns just what is needed to make a house a home.

Knead by laughingd0g (E, 83k)

This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

Wild, orphaned (E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by nerakrose, dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

The Liars Department by @dorthyanndrarry (T, 103k)

This is a story about Harry meeting up with Draco Malfoy four years after the war. And a story about Harry, well, not hating his job per say, but it's not like he has much to compare it to and it seemed fine. His whole life seemed fine. Then Malfoy came along with and his flashy suits and fast car making everything seem dull in comparison, and Harry... Harry couldn't just leave well enough alone.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (E, 131k)

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

#asks #Drarry reclist #spring reads

118 notes · View notes

ch3rry-wink · 3 months

Text

Prom Night (AU)

Pairing: Suguru Getō x f!reader

Summary: After rejecting Getō's invitation to the prom, your refusal turns into a nightmare.

CW: +18, dark content, kidnapping, dub-con, rough sex, creampie, doggy style, choking, handjob, kinda Stockholm syndrome, unprotected sex, fingering, missionary, cum eating, oral sex, kinda fuck or die, coercion

Author's note: inspired by the loved ones. Getō And the reader are in college.

Your friends made an effort to plan that dance. It was just a few weeks before graduation, and their best idea was to mimic the Americans with their high school dances every season. They wanted something very traditional: inviting the person you liked, corsages, choosing the king and queen of the dance, and reviving every Hollywood movie stereotype.

The halls and classrooms filled with cheesy people striving to get a date, including Getō who, with a bouquet of red roses, proposed to be your partner. With a small (and cruel rejection), you let him know that you only saw him as the awkward country boy who helped you with your work. Perhaps you should have been kinder.

The big night had arrived, and you waited for a taxi on the corner in your stunning black dress and heels that hurt your feet. You admitted to yourself that your boyfriend was an idiot for not picking you up. A black car pulled up in front of you, and panic instantly set in as a white-haired man with blue eyes rolled down the passenger window.

"Get in the car," he ordered. You tried to walk away, but other burly men blocked your path. "Get in the car; we have a dance to attend," you obeyed; there wasn't much else to do.

You woke up dizzy and tied to a chair, with electronic music playing in the background and disco lights spinning. When your head stopped spinning, you saw the place completely decorated to simulate the event you were supposed to attend.

"Surprise!" the white-haired man pointed out, and when the other crossed the doorway, you finally understood what was happening.

"You shouldn't have bothered, Satoru," Getō entered, adjusting the buttons of his bespoke tuxedo.

"Just say thank you, Suguru," Satoru adjusted your head and removed the gag. "It's no trouble at all, all for my friend."

"Let me go," tears fell from your eyes, your makeup starting to run, and Satoru dug his nails into your shoulders.

"No, you are the guest of honor," his fingers trailed down your arms to reach the restraints. "You'll give Suguru the perfect night, and I'll consider letting you go, understood?"

"I promise," the restraints softened until you were completely free. You stood up, Satoru wiped your tears, and led you to where Suguru was with a corsage, putting it on your wrist.

"It's very beautiful," you approached Suguru. "And you look very handsome tonight." It wasn't a lie, Suguru was handsome; but his personal style killed all the charm, you were somewhat superficial, and you admitted it.

"You look stunning," your makeup was smudged, and your hair tangled; under different circumstances, you might have believed his compliment.

"We should get a drink," you walked together to the table filled with expensive liquors and fine snacks, Getō poured you a glass of champagne.

"Courtesy of Satoru Gojō," both raised your glasses in a toast, and after a few sips, you threw the liquid in his face and started to run.

"Catch her," you heard Satoru shout to his people as you ran through the door.

"I found her!" someone shouted behind you, and you crawled pathetically on the ground in hopes of escaping; he lifted you and carried you regardless of your injuries.

There was not a soul in sight, only the echo of the menacing steps of the henchmen behind you. The hallways were vast with dozens of closed doors and stairs that seemed to lead to the same place; however, one door stood out, it was large and heavy when moved, a forest was revealed before you. On the uneven ground, you stumbled occasionally, wild animals sounded dangerously close, and after a couple of falls that marked your body with scrapes, you knew you wouldn't go far, but now it was a reality with the flashlight illuminating your face:

"Please let me go," you begged and kicked in vain because in seconds, you were back in the hall with the big blue eyes in front of you.

"I'm not happy, stop mistreating my friend, or I will make these gentlemen mistreat your family," he laughed when your eyes filled with panic. "It's time to dance."

Suguru returned to the hall, some damp spots visible on the fabric of his suit.

"You're back!" he hugged you, dragged you to the dance floor, and started moving to the rhythm of the slow song Gojō had put on.

"Suguru, let me go."

"No, Satoru put a lot of effort into planning this."

"You're insane."

"You humiliated me and took advantage of me." You had been a complete bitch and had never taken the time to thank him for what he had done for you.

"I'm sorry... I..." your apologies and explanations were cut short when Satoru spoke from a microphone.

"It's time to choose the king and queen of the dance." He waved an envelope in the air and then opened it. "Suguru Getō," he read from a little piece of paper. Getō had the crown on his head and waited for you to join him; Satoru said your name and crowned you queen with that small cheap plastic crown.

"We should dance as king and queen," you started to accept your condition, cooperating might get you free sooner. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his around your waist, your bodies were too close. Suguru's fingers moved delicately down your back. Under the lights and slow music, he kissed you, and you followed, believing that was enough to convince Gojō that the night was perfect (hopefully he would ignore your escape attempt).

"That was wonderful," Getō smiled foolishly, and Gojō appeared behind you.

"That was beautiful," his applause sounded sarcastic.

"I'll get a drink," Getō kissed you on the cheek and then walked away.

"Before your escape attempt, I didn't consider this would be necessary," he handed you a card and waited for you to take it. "I was going to let it go, a moonlight kiss, and you would go home."

"What is this?!"

"It's the suite, you'll take him there and show him how much you love him," he smiled playfully, "And make it seem like your idea," he walked away when he saw Getō returning.

"I brought champagne," you pounced on him, put your mouth close to his ear, and whispered:

"I want us to go somewhere more private," you felt his heart race and his breath catch, he nodded eagerly, and you guided him out of the hall. The footsteps of an escort sounded close by; the whole building was full of them.

The room was beautiful with crystal chandeliers adorning the ceiling, vases full of flowers, elegant furniture, and an immense bed; everything was pure luxury.

Getō put his hand on your waist and turned you to face him, the suit jacket had disappeared, and only the tight white shirt remained. He kissed you passionately as his hands went to the straps of the dress, which fell to the ground in seconds.

His hands slowly went down your torso until they touched the edge of your panties, you felt how they slid down your legs and kicked them aside, Getō kissed you again, your hot body rubbed against the coolness of his clothes and this made your nipples stiffen from the friction.

"I've long dreamed of this moment" he distributed a few kisses on your neck, his fingers reached your pussy he slid them between your folds, a small moan escaped your mouth from the pleasant sensation and without warning you felt him pressing your clitoris, your legs faltered and you held on to his shoulders, while he kept rubbing again and again, unable to give you clarity.

"Suguru," you moaned, and then something landed on you; you felt guilty, you were being unfaithful, you were letting another name come out of your mouth, and yet it felt so good. Perhaps the adrenaline from the danger involved was playing tricks on you.

"Tell me you love me," you shook your head and pulled away from him. Suguru had those same sad eyes as when you rejected him. You knew that if he left this room, Gojō was ready to ruin your life.

"Suguru, I love you," you brought your lips to his and your fingers to the buttons of his shirt, then to his belt and zipper; the pants fell with the metallic noise of the belt.

You were kneeling in front of him, his bulge just growing inside his boxers, you rubbed your hand and with your mouth you gave little kisses over the fabric hoping it would keep growing; your hands ran up his thighs to the waistband of his boxers and slowly pulled them down, his cock gave a little jump and bumped against his abdomen. A small sound of surprise came out of you and followed by biting your lip as panic set in.

One of Getō's hands landed on the back of your head, but you didn't move you just stood there pondering whether or not you could take him in your mouth.

"You don't need to" Suguru spoke calmly and your eyes watched him from below, you opened your mouth and he closed it before you could fit it into his red tip.

"I want to" you said almost pleading.

"We'll have more time" he was convinced you would be one more time with him, after this you never wanted to see him again.

"Let me make you feel good" you put one of your hands on the base of his cock, you squeezed it a little and started to move it up and down, its heat was intense; you gave kisses and licks to its rosy tip. Getō had his eyes closed and some delicate moans escaped from his mouth. You felt something inside him clench seeking his release, you simply pulled away not allowing him to get to that point. You smiled teasingly at him.

"You're cruel," he helped you to stand up and guided you to the bed, sitting you down on the edge and started to unstrap the heels, touching the small bruises and scrapes, "I'm sorry, I didn't want this to happen..." You didn't want him to keep talking, reminding you of what happened tonight; you needed him to be quiet, for all of this to end.

"Suguru, enough," you put your finger on his mouth to silence him, "Just make me feel like in your dreams." His eyes lit up with joy.

Getō's face was between your legs, his tongue was moving in circles over your clit and two of his fingers were moving in and out of your insides; you had underestimated him the gangly country boy knew what to do he wasn't a frigid puritan.

"That's enough" you stood there indignantly in the middle of a high, watching him smirk at you just as you had a while ago; you settled in the middle of the bed with your legs slightly spread in anticipation of Getō.

He landed in the middle, his hands reached your breasts and lightly squeezed your nipples, his mouth landed on one to lick and suck it, you played with his hair and giggled nervously from the pleasure, you accepted that you were enjoying him a lot and the feeling he was giving you.

Suguru pulled you a few inches until you were closer to him, he rubbed his red tip between your folds making sure to brush your clit.

"I love you" he said between heavy breaths and moans, as he slowly pushed himself inside you; stretching you and filling you to perfection. He began to move slow; but hard without much consideration, just watching your face contort into a grimace of pleasure and listening to your moans scraping your throat and echoing around the room.

His hands clung firmly to your hips, imposing the rhythm, exerting absolute control. In that space, he was the one in charge, the one who determined every movement. You, who were the queen bee in public, became a mere plaything here, without any voice or power, and that stimulated you.

Your face was sunk between the pillows and your ass raised in the air, his cock well buried inside you as his balls bounced in your pussy.

"You look pathetic, you're just a slut" your pussy clenched "Maybe I should call Satoru and have him join.... Would you like that?" The very mention of Satoru Gojō terrified you and in a frightened voice you replied:

"No" Getō tugged on your hair pulling you to him, your back was pressed against his torso and his cock kept up that erratic, hard rhythm.

"Why not" His hand went to your neck and squeezed it, you were losing air and you felt suffocated by all the sensations.

"Because I'm only yours" your improvised reply made him relax as did his grip on your neck. The speed and roughness of his lunges slowed, as did the sound of skin against skin. Suguru gifted you with a slow, passionate kiss, accompanied by his fingers touching your clit, your toes curling, your body filled with spasms.

"Come for me" Getō kept burying himself to the hilt inside you, feeling you clench around him and whimper as your orgasm finally came.

He carelessly dropped your body on the bed, continued ramming your over stimulated pussy chasing his own release until he succeeded, his hot seed painted your walls white.

Suguru didn't pull out he continued to fuck his own seed inside you and your own pussy was eager to have him again.

"Open your mouth" Suguru came out of you, he rubbed his thumb on your core and then brought it closer to your mouth, you hesitated to do so; but his pleading eyes motivated you. You savored the mixture of the two of you together and without wasting time he kissed you.

"Suguru... I need you" It was the first time a simple orgasm had made you feel so vulnerable, leaving your body like jelly. You had wasted so much time rejecting Suguru that now you simply didn't want him to separate from you; you wanted him to fuck you every minute.

None of your friends or your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, actually—understood why that morning you had arrived hand in hand with Suguru Getō. They had all seen you reject him brutally; however, there you were, hugging and exchanging small kisses. You understood it, though, and it wasn't necessary for them to know that in one weekend you had become addicted to his cock or the way he fucked you.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jujutsu gojo #geto x reader #geto smut #geto suguru #jjk geto #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto

244 notes · View notes