#you fuckers have no idea how much i think about angst

[nebuladreamz]

Not everything is sunshine and rainbows

#nebula art and doodles #fnaf sun #fnaf sundrop #fnaf dca #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf starlit skies #starlit skies #fnaf y/n #daycare attendant #dca #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #security breach #fnaf 9 #you fuckers have no idea how much i think about angst #however i love fluff as well and amb a litlte guy

[orcelito]

OK so I have an inkling of an idea for a trigun ficlet. A one-shot, really. Not really any plot, but I just have the urge to write my own interpretation of Weird Plant Shit. Like for how much ppl tag this stuff as xeno, most of it's honestly pretty tame. Which kinda makes sense, considering a lot of this is being based off of the plants in stampede, which While uncanny are not NEARLY the amount of inherent horror of the plants in the manga. There's some FREAKY shit going on there. So like. You know. What if I took more inspiration from That for Vash's freaky shit?

#speculation nation #YES this is for a smut idea. dont judge me #ive never posted smut b4 bc ive exclusively been writing akeshu & theyre teenagers #im not interested in writing smut of teenagers #but i have my interests 😭 and i am an undeniable monster fucker. we been knew. #just. vague idea. ppl have run with the plant idea. & id wanna too. but in a different sort of way. #thinking more. venus fly trap kind of situation. NOT easily translatable to human biology #the kinds of shit that may trip even the most adventurous man up. but we all know he would take it in stride in the end. #idfk so much of the allure of this pairing to me is the inherent inhuman nature of vash's physical form. and how that manifests everywhere #the human and the angel. for all that entails. #i dont have an idea for an actual story for these characters yet. my brain is spinning them but it hasnt come up with that yet #but a lil smth self indulgent to just play around with Fun Ideas? i reaaally wanna go for it. #we'll see if i end up writing this. & if i end up posting it. #im both somehow Very solidly kinky and VERY solidly shy about it. aka why i barely post about that kind of stuff. #face in my hands just talking about this here. who knows how i'd fare with posting it. #but if i go thru the trouble of writing it you BET id go thru the trouble of posting it #and you B E T itd be angsty. the inherent longing and unsaid words. what am i if not an unrepentant angst writer lol #thoughts & ideas r spinning. i will have a merry little time. #uhm. do i need to tag this as anything. is this too tmi? i dont even know #WELL if u read the word 'xeno' and keep reading that's on U. sorry #here just in case if ppl r worried i will tag this as #tmi/ #sorry lol

[gyusrose]

➵ their reaction when you call them another member’s name prank -> enha

⚠︎ angst? lil bit of fluff ? just the boys getting angry real quick, mild cursing

someone requested this but i accidentally deleted the request i’m so sorry 😭‼️‼️

heeseung -> you know you shouldn’t pull such prank on hee, knowing how jealous he gets you were pretty much starting something you won’t be able to finish. you were feeling silly that day and decided to do it , why the hell not?

heeseung was sitting next to you on the bed you guys shared. he’s just gotten back from practice so he was very touchy and clingy. kissing all over your face and neck repeatedly , completely missing the camera facing the both of you. this was the perfect time. you giggled as he kissed you trying to push him away slightly.

“sunghoon stop-“ you said in between laughs.

the moment that name fell out of your mouth, he stopped. his whole demeanor changed in a matter of seconds.

“what did you just call me?” his voice was deep and serious.

“heeseung? that’s your name isn’t it?”

“no no no you said sunghoon, i heard it clearly, the fuck’s going on with you and him hm?” you looked at him like you were confused on what he was talking about.

“ what? nothing! i said heeseung you’re just paranoid.” he scoffed, now getting out of bed and made his way out of the room.

you giggled as you grabbed the phone recording and ran up behind him.

“babe !! it was just a prank, don’t leave!” he looked at the camera and rolled his eyes, facing anything but you.

“aw come on hee, it was funny !! you should’ve seen your face”

“don’t you scare me like that.”

sunghoon -> you and sunghoon were driving around the city. it was such a nice peaceful night. the two of you were just talking about your days when you thought of a not so great idea.

when sunghoon wasn’t looking you pulled up the camera app on your phone, knowing you’re gonna want this reaction saved. propping your phone were the two of you were on frame but also not making it obvious.

sunghoon was talking about something when you butted in.

“yeah that’s i’m saying jake- hoonie…sunghoon.” sunghoon stayed silent, side eyeing you slightly while still watching the road. you also stayed silent after your ‘mistake’ , waiting for his response.

the sudden break of the car startled you.

“say his name one more damn time..” sunghoon sternly said, now facing you.

“it was a mistake, you know i meant sunghoon!”

“you both are not even that close, we’ll not that i know of, why did his name come out of your mouth before mines? your own boyfriend?” his eyes never left yours, low key making you scared, you could feel his anger.

“you’re overreacting, just keep driving.”

“if you like the fucker so much then go be with him since-“ he stopped his tracks as he saw the small camera from your phone pointing straight at him.

it all immediately clicked in his head rubbing his temples and shaking his head in annoyance. you in the other hand couldn’t contain your laughter.

“smile you’re on camera” you said giving him a peck on his cheek.



“you had me thinking jake was better than me or something.”

jongseong-> going into the kitchen, smelling the enchanting smell of breakfast was the best feeling of the world, even more so, seeing the sight of your gorgeous boyfriend making it.

“ my princess is awake! sit down it’s almost ready.”

you sat down on the stole in from of him, watching him make the omelette on the skillet.

although you just woke up, you couldn’t help but think about this one prank you’ve been wanting to do on him for a while now. what a perfect way to start the morning right?

you started secretly recording as you continued the conversation with him like normal.

“ you look so fine right now heeseung, you’re perfect.”

jay’s hands dropped the fork he was using and slowly looked up at you.

while you looked at him with wide eyes ‘confused’ .

“ i’m sorry?” he was very offended, how could you even compare him to heeseung? what does heeseung have on you that would make you say his name all of a sudden?

“what ? you don’t like me calling you perfect?”

“you know what you said, y’all got something going on or?” he was not standing with his arms crossed, the most serious expression i’ve ever seen on his face.

“oh my god no jay! what makes you think that! i don’t even know what i did!”

“my name doesn’t even sound close to heeseung’s! you know what, i’m calling him right now an-“

“no no no babe stop stop it’s a prank look!” you showed him your phone recording.

his head leaned back letting out the biggest sigh.

“ it’s too damn early for this, don’t do that to me ever again.”

jaeyun -> “ babe let me teach you this new dance pleasee..” you said panning up the camera ask as you started recording.

jake sat up from his seat making his way to where you were standing. he was more than pleased, he loves this stuff.

“alright so you do this, then lift your arms up and then..” you kept explaining to him the made up dance you’re making him do, him following your every move. jake’s never seen this dance before, nevertheless he continues to copy you.

“but do this part really fast.” jake nodded at you doing the part you told him to do. now’s the time.

you shook your head, “ no jungwon, not that fast, like this!”

jake stood still, looking at you intently. “what? you did the move too fast now we gotta restart.”

“stop playing with me, the fuck did you just call me? jungwon?”

“ugh jake you’re probably mishearing, i said your name.”

“not at all i heard it very clear, what up with that?” he was annoyed and mad. what does jungwon have to do with any of this?

“jake calm down, i just mistook you guys, there’s a lot of you so-“

“but i’m your boyfriend! or is he? i don’t know what to believe anymore!”

you should’ve been laughing but you weren’t, you felt bad. you pulled jake into a tight hug catching off guard.

“it’s a joke, look. you know i love you and only you jakey.”

jake didn’t respond and kissed your lips passionately, you could feel the anger dissolving as the both of your lips connected.

sunwoo -> the two of you were occupied building a lego set. you loved spending time with sunoo like this, you were both pretty good at it.

y’all were conversing as you build your tower. sunoo was never in a bad mood with you, his smile is always present with your presence, so arguments almost never happen.

you shouldn’t have wanted to do this but you wanted to see how he would get, how would jealousy look on him. obviously not too harsh as well.

“ jay- i mean sunoo could you pass me the red piece over there.” you said signalling.

sunoo just stared at you in confusion, did he hear that correctly ?

“ say what?”

“could you pass me the piece?”

“no before that..”

“sunoo could you pass me the piece?”

“no, you said jay could you pass me the piece, then sunoo. why jay huh? “ his voice got louder making you startle.

“erm-no i just- i meant you. not him.”

he rans a hand through his hair sighing in annoyance. jay? really?

you couldn’t hold it in anymore and pinched his cheek. his eyebrows furrowed at your actions. how dare you do that after you pretty much cheated on him.

“it’s a prank baby, the camera’s right there! don’t be mad at me…” sunoo just sulked and pouted on his seat. no matter what, he always managed to look adorable.

“that wasn’t funny.”

jungwon -> the two of you were cuddling in bed watching television. every friday night would be spent like this and you weren’t complaining. having barely anytime for the two of you, times like these were immensely enjoyed by the two of you.

you didn’t want to ruin it but curiosity got the best of you. as jungwon’s eyes were on the television, you placed your phone on the nightstand to get at least the view of jungwon.

“ri-ki could you turn up the volume? “

his hands that were once tangled around your waist, disappeared hearing what you just said.

“ excuse you? i’m not ri-ki, since when are the two of you close like that? “ he sat up on the bed looking straight at you anticipating for your response.

“i meant to say jungwon, you. i got nothing with ri-ki.”

jungwon scoffed, “his legal name even, you’re not fooling me, what’s he to you?” your eyes widened at his demeanour. he was very angry. it was a rare sight to see.

“calm down, i just made a mistake. that’s it end of story.”

“you know what maybe you should be with him instead of me since apparently he’s more important than you own boyfriend.” he said getting up from the bed ready to leave.

“wonie! i’m just kidding, it’s all a joke.” you said showing the phone recording.

“oh my god you’re evil !! why would you do that? also why didn’t i notice the obvious phone looking straight at me?” he rolled his eyes walking back to the bed.

riki -> “don’t cry if you lose again.” niki said as he grabbed the controller and pressed the rematch button.

you rolled your eyes at his words. you were not bad but not good at the same time. he should be making you feel better instead of just laughing at you every time he kills you. as the two of you fought the last round, showing the K.O on the screen you sighed in frustration.

“babe just admit it, i’m just too good.” he chuckled, you weren’t going to take it. you smirked at the idea that just popped in your head, grabbing your phone and discreetly started recording.

“one more time.” you said, niki shook his head at your stubbornness but agreed on it anyways.

as you were fighting, y’all were just yelling stuff at each other trying to make the other lose.

“sunoo, can’t get up?” you said loud enough for him to hear you over the game.

his thumbs left the game controller giving you more than enough time to beat him and win (for the first time)

as you cheered, you looked over at niki and saw an emotionless face on his end.

“aww someone’s mad they lost!”

“it’s not about that, at all.” he glared at you.

“oh really?”

“sunoo? are you for real?”

“what are you talking about?”

“you called me sunoo, don’t play dumb. do i look like sunoo to you?”

“no ni-ki, you must be mistaken, i said ni-ki.” you said emphasizing his name.

he rubbed his forehead in frustration, he’s getting gaslighted right now.

“so you and sunoo hm? how’s it going for y’all?”

“ni-ki what? you know sunoo’s like a brother to me!”

“yea that’s what they all say..” he said under his breath.

“i’m not staying here, i need some space.” he said not before you grabbed his hand and engulfed him in a hug. ni-ki, though, pulled away.

“ask sunoo to give you a hug.”

“ni-ki!! it’s a joke! a prank you know? there’s my phone, right in your face!!”

ni-ki was still annoyed, he hated pranks on him.

“don’t prank me like that! it’s not that funny.” he said looking at you laugh in his face.

“so you can prank me all the time but i can’t?”

“exactly .”

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #lee heesung x reader #park sunghoon x reader #park jongseong x reader #jay park x reader #sim jaehyun x reader #kim sunwoo x reader #kim sunoo x reader #yang jungwon x reader #nishimura riki x reader #nishimura niki x reader #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen heeseung x reader #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen sunghoon x reader #enhypen jake x reader #enhypen sunoo x reader #enhypen jungwon x reader #enhypen niki x reader #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop angst #enhypen angst #enhypen reactions

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Chapter 10 - A Song of Ice and Fire | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: The moment has arrived for you and Aemond to prove yourselves against the Martells. You can only hope you've done enough to earn your place | Word Count: 7.7k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: teasing, hair pulling, mile high club (oop), voyeurism, degradation, daddy kink, oral (m receiving), ass slapping, orgasm denial, threatening behaviour, mentions of a broken family, mentions of chronic pain, blood, slight angst, injury in relation to chronic condition, trigeminal neuralgia, hospitals

A/N: I can't believe this is the LAST CHAPTER FUCK 😭😭😭 i love these two sm, would die for them 🥰 I really hope you guys enjoyed this series, it was so fun to write! If you're lucky there might even be an Epilogue 😉

Sunspear.

That’s where the finals would be.

Cocky fuckers. Thinking that they had the win, by having it on Martell turf.

At this point, the prospect of winning was low on the priority list. The top spot had been somewhat taken over, by carrying out the plan you had in store, which Aemond was increasingly becoming more and more suspicious of.

You and Helaena would play dumb whenever he walked past her room, hiding whatever you were doing. As much as Helaena prefaced that what you had planned was a terrible idea, she’d grinned and told you to do it anyway.

She’d even given her opinion when you modelled it.

“Perfect” she said with a proud smile, leaning back in her chair.

You’d packed the suitcase well enough that Aemond wouldn’t see it even if he opened it by accident.

When it was time to load up the car for the flight to Sunspear, staying in a hotel overnight before the finals tomorrow, there was a finality to it that widened the pit in your chest. Helaena had barely had you out of her arms, intent on hugging every last bit out of you so that she could savour the feeling.

“We’ll all be watching the match tomorrow” she smiled, “try not to get into too much trouble before then”

As much as you’re happy that she and her family will be there, as your manager, he will too.

Aemond had pre-warned you about that.

But to be honest, you were expecting it.

“You know me, can’t keep out of it it seems” you smile back at her, hand slipping out of hers as you move onto Alicent, who stands straight, pink lips pressed together, like one touch and she’ll just crumble into tears.

Alicent nods, picking at the top of her turtleneck, “It was so nice to have you here, sweet girl. You are welcome back whenever you like” she manages, her voice wavering with emotion.

Smiling gratefully, nothing else need be said when Alicent opens her arms to pull you into a hug, as if you were her own. She smells like expensive perfume, probably YLS, as you’d often seen the bottle poking out of her bag. At first, when you met, you found the scent overpowering, and somewhat tart. But now, as the perfume enveloped you in a warm, motherly hug, it was entirely comforting. And your heart strained in your chest, knowing that it may be a while before you get to come back.

Your face pulls into a smile as Alicent then moves onto her son, bringing a comically tall Aemond in comparison into a warm embrace. No person is more surprised than you when Aegon walks over, trying to hide how nice he’s being with humour.

“Come in. Bring it in then”

You laugh through your nose, giving him a quick hug.

“Alright, that’s enough”

You shrug, smirking, “Fine, you smell anyway”

“Ouch, I’m so fucking wounded”

You pick up your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“I’ll be watching as well. Can’t wait to see what happens” Aegon winks.

You turn awake, feigning ignorance, “Dunno what you mean”

You fought the urge to tear up as you looked in the mirror, watching the three of them wave you away. With lips pressed together to force a smile to your face, strained with emotion, you spare them a wave back, bidding the large Targaryen House goodbye.

Once past the security gates a deep exhale exits your lungs, and Aemond’s hand wraps around your knee, stealing your attention.

You smile at him, giving a soft nod, “I’m alright”

Aemond laughs through his nose, “You’re acting like you’ll never go back” he chuckles, “I know Mum would be very offended if you didn’t”

Smiling, you know it’s probably true. That they would like you back as often as possible, no matter the outcome of the finals.

Aemond scrolls through his phone, biting the inside of his cheek, “Applications are closing soon” he muses, almost so quietly you don’t hear him unless you’re leaning close.

“For what?”

He clicks his phone off, shoving it into his sweatpants pocket, “For the new academic year” he replied anxiously.

“Philosophy and History right?” you smile, putting your hand on his to calm him, “You’ll love it, Aemond”

“I know, it’s just-” he adds, “I don’t know if I’ll be good at the whole academic side of it. It’s one thing to be interested-”

“You’ll do great because you’re interested in it” you smile, “besides there’ll be plenty of workshops on essay writing and such”

He sighs, like the idea of doing all of that is just so overwhelming right now. Not knowing what to expect, has his whole body tense.

“Finals first. Then I’ll apply” he states, turning to flash you a small, Aemond-smile. One you return with warmth.

“I’ll help you with your Personal Statement”

He laughs, “Then I’ll never get in” he jokes, making you swat his arm playfully.

It was a couple of hours on a plane to Sunspear, and with the assistance of the private jet supplied by Hightower Management, it was a simple process. The car even pulled up right next to it, allowing you both to largely avoid the media who stood behind the chain-link fence, trying to get a word or a photo from the mysterious couple.

You’d barely looked at the news. But every now and then, a notification would inevitably pop up on your phone, about your outburst and subsequent removal from the Targaryen House. Frustration boiled in your veins.

That wasn’t true.

But then again, not a lot they wrote about was true.

It happened so often, each time affected you less and less, and the quicker it was to push that aside.

An ‘unnamed insider’ had also offered their opinion.

‘There was an altercation with the Chairman of Hightower Management, in what I understand was a lapse of morals’.

You had laughed when you read it.

And so did Aemond.

Alys Rivers.

Still trying to dig her claws in, desperate for even a slither of that limelight. Of Aemond’s attention.

She wouldn’t fucking get it. No fucking way.

Aemond had joked that you’d beat her in a fist fight if need be. And you didn’t doubt it. In fact, the mental image somewhat amused you.

You looked up from your phone, the hum of the incessant jet engine vibrated through the seats. Arryk was fast asleep in the front of the jet, slumped back in his seat, with his hands clasped on his chest. His suit, inevitably crumpled with the awkward sleeping position he found himself in.

Aemond was seated next to you, earphones in, leaning back to only appear as if he were dozing.

You bite your lip, looking back down the aisle and then to Aemond.

He cracks open his eye as you stand up from your seat, a suspicious look rakes over you as you pull the jumper you were wearing over your head and huffing it onto the seat.

“Where are you going?” he asks gruffly, to which the only thing you can do is smile, seeing the way his gaze absorbs the image of what you’re wearing stuck tight to your skin.

Knowing he fucking hates it.

Hates it.

You roll your eyes.

“The toilet?” you reply sarcastically.

Gods, you know you’re pushing your luck but you just can’t help it.

You can practically feel the irritation radiating off Aemond. His lips part to say something but you’re gone with a smirk on your face before he can say anything. His harsh, determined gaze bores into the back of your head, burning a bright hole through it. You sway your hips as you walk down the aisle to the bathroom, closing the door, but not locking it.

10 seconds.

That’s how long you give it.

You pretend to wash your hands, looking in the mirror and smoothing your palms over the ponytail that sits semi-loosely at the back of your head.

5, 4, 3…

The door opens quickly and with a click it’s shut again, but this time Aemond slides the lock across. He had to duck to get into the cramped bathroom, and now with two people inside, it feels utterly stifling.

You have to bite back a smile that you’d guessed him so spot on. It hadn’t even been ten seconds. And here he stood, putting on a stoic, blank face, as if he had no intention of doing anything at all.

Your lips part to speak, but your throat is instead met with pressure, his palm flush to it and his fingers around the sides as he pushes you further into the bathroom.

“You want to get fucked?” he suggests in a dark, husky voice, the muscles in his arm tensing and untensing as his control begins to wane, “Hm?”

You can see the way he expects you to respond, but as his fingers press on the sides of your neck, it only serves to make your mind swirl with want, seeing how frustrated he is. Nothing seems to want to come out of your mouth, shock pleasantly blocking your throat.

“Think I didn’t see that? The way you rolled your eyes? Acting like a little slut?”

You swallow under his hand, his words sending a bolt of arousal straight between your legs, throbbing with desire. The way your cheeks burn makes it clear to him what you really want, coupled with the tremble that has now managed to worm its way up your legs.

In a smooth moment, your thighs hit the counter in front of the mirror, his arm now reaching widely around you to hold your head up to see his expression in the mirror. You shiver at the sensation of his hair on your skin, his nose dragging up the side of your neck, his breath eventually hot on the shell of your ear.

“You just want it, don’t you?” he grunts, pressing his now noticeable erection against your backside, his hips moving torturously slow, as if to make you wait, to tease you.

Pride rings in your body at the way he’s just so easily fallen apart the way you predicted.

“No” you tease, biting back a smile which he sees in the mirror.

His mouth drawn tightly into a line, not revealing at all what he’s thinking.

Aemond’s large hands go to your leggings, tearing them down harshly like he can’t get a good grip on them. The speed, the sheer neediness of the gesture, has arousal pooling where you need him most and your skin prickling with desire.

“We’ll see about that”

You have to spread your hands on the counter to keep yourself up as Aemond tugs your leggings down just enough and bends you over, exposing you just enough that the cool air against your core makes you shiver.

“No” he gruffs, wrapping your hair around his knuckles and tugging back to make you look in the mirror at him, “You’re going to watch”

You barely have time to think about his threat before you feel the fat head of his cock kiss your folds, pushing forward, Aemond moans breathily as he looks down to watch you take the entirety of him, squeezing his length tightly.

It feels like the air is being constantly pushed from your lungs, he doesn’t even give a moment of reprieve, one hand tugging your hair and the other kneading the fleshy globe of your ass to spread you open for him to see. His cock pistons so quickly and with such a lewd sound that for a moment, it makes you embarrassed that Arryk might actually hear from the front of the plane.

“Keep your eyes open, princess” she breathes, leaning over your neck and giving a harsh tug to remind you. You whimper as his teeth graze over your skin, combined with the way he bullies that sensitive spot inside you in this position, it all feels very too much.

“Just my little fucktoy aren’t you, hm?” he grunts against your ear. And without even thinking you nod quickly, not trusting yourself to speak, your eyes dragging down to watch the ceaseless rocking of his hips slapping against you.

He delivers a hard slap to your ass, “Say it”.

“ - yes, I am - I am -”

Aemond groans, burying himself as deep as he can inside you with each devastating thrust, “Yeah, that’s right -”

You gasp loudly, eyes slipping shut as his hand makes his way to your front, his thumb drawing harsh circles against your clit. It’s more pressure than you anticipated to such a sensitive area, and it has your body pushing back to meet his, desperate.

“ - fuck, Aemond -”

“ - not my name, princess-”

Just when you’re about to lose it, he ceases his movements to your clit and slows his pace dramatically and he chuckles darkly when you whine with annoyance.

“If you want to cum, I want to hear it-”

You can’t help but feel irritated. You are so, so close. It’s unfair.

“Come on, you can do it, baby-”

With a strained, annoyed tone, “-fuck, daddy please - I’m so close-”

You feel him grin against your neck, “better”

Nothing feels more overwhelming than when he picks up the pace again, blood feeling as if it’s on fire as it hums around your body, right to your little bundle of nerves that Aemond hasn’t left alone.

“-that’s it, cum around my cock, princess-”

And you do.

Hard.

So much so that Aemond has to put his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. Especially when his pace never falters, and he fucks you through your orgasm with the same vigour. Aemond moans as your walls flutter around him, squeezing his length tightly.

He pulls out, fisting his length quickly in his fist, a shuddered groan falling from his glorious lips as his warm cum coats your bare pussy. It’s near-pornographic, the way it feels to be covered by him, and even more so when he smears his cum over your slit with the head of his cock.

You smile tiredly, seeing that this little act is something that Aemond enjoys doing often.

Perhaps it's his way of reminding you you're his.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect-” he praises, “-baby you’ve made such a mess- come on, be a good girl-”

You’re near breathless as he pushes you to your knees in front of him, covering your lips with the cum that glazes his cock before plunging into your mouth. You let your jaw relax as Aemond makes the slow, lazy pace, using your mouth to clean the aftermath off his length.

You moan around him, the taste of him salty and heavy on your tongue.

“That’s it - you like me using your mouth, don’t you-”

You make a noise of confirmation as he continues to use you, making his head tip back at the vibrations stimulating his oversensitive cock.

He pulls you off by your hair, looking down at you reverently, using his thumb to swipe whatever was left on your lips back into your mouth.

As your eyes meet, both of you light up in a smile.

"Seven fucking Hells, what am I going to do with you" he smiles lovingly.

The Dornish heat was nothing compared to that little bathroom.

The air was crisp as you exited the plane, a dull, but satisfied ache between your thighs. In fact, Arryk had looked at you both with some level of barely-contained suspicion when you came out the bathroom on the flight, and you’d flushed bright red when he asked if you were alright, and swatted Aemond when he made no attempt to hide his smugness and laughed out loud.

The hotel was lavish, and entirely different in style from the hotels you were used to on the tour. The floors were marble, the walls largely made of stone, with bright and vibrant colours decorating the tall ceilings and walls.

Even people’s fashion was different. Flowy fabrics of silk and light linens, probably due to the intense heat, which was already making it difficult to concentrate.

You gave Aemond a look when the receptionist gave you one key.

As if being in on an inside joke of sorts.

The last time you were forced to share one room, it was a very different circumstance.

The room was spacious and utterly luxurious, but you’d expect nothing less from the Martells.

The bed was enclosed with panels of delicate details surrounding it, along with silks of various vibrancies to lift it. The floor was marble, and a nice cooling sensation in comparison to the stifling air.

And as Aemond snaked his arms around your waist as you looked out onto the balcony at the lavish gardens, leaning down to bite at your neck softly, your eyes slipped shut.

“Aemond the finals are tomorrow, we have to practi-”

“And I intend to” he whispered back, kissing higher and higher on your neck, while one of his hands sank lower and lower, til they were beneath the waistband of your leggings.

“It’s still early, Princess” he mused.

You had both christened the bed that afternoon, and later on, any available flat surface Aemond could find, he would do things that would make even Aegon blush.

Unlike the other hotels, there was only one ice rink in Sunspear, and it would be the one you’d be using tomorrow to compete against the Martells. It was a bit annoying having to book in a spot to go over the routine, and you and Aemond had already practised beyond measure, but it was still nice to get a few more sessions in before the big day.

Surprisingly, you felt okay, and Aemond was the nervous one. Even though realistically, there was little outcome for Aemond, whether you won or not.

You sigh, the cool air of the rink hitting your skin, “At least it’s nice and cool in here”

Huffing your bag onto the floor, you look behind at him when he doesn’t reply.

Aemond, with a stoic expression, only gestured with his head in the direction of the stands.

Larys Strong sits there, his cane in hand.

His head is angled down, so that he’s looking over the bridge of his brow, his darkened eyes flitting between you and Aemond from where he’s seated in the middle of the rows of seats, which tomorrow, would be filled with people.

Immediately, irritation gnaws at your insides. And the only saving grace is Aemond’s careful hand on your arm, grounding you.

You make no effort to go to him.

He will come to you if he wants to speak.

It almost pleases you that it takes him so long to stand and step down to the ice rink, so that it gives you more time to think of what to say. You go to move away to speak to him, but Aemond’s fingers tighten, holding you close to him.

He wanted to stay with you.

“Aemond” Larys greeted first, leaning on his cane as he stopped before you both, smirking as he searched both of your faces.

Aemond didn’t respond.

“What do you want?” you ask, getting swiftly to the point, as you knew he wouldn’t.

Larys bowed his head, as if briefly embarrassed and wondering what to say, his slick wavy brown hair not moving around his shoulders.

“I am here for the finals-”

“That’s not what I asked” you added quickly, “to the point, please”

You didn’t see the barely-contained smirk that Aemond was struggling to keep at bay behind you. It turned out, he rather liked to see you angry.

Larys floundered noticeably.

“You had seen my emails?”

“I had”

Larys raised an eyebrow, “and it was insufficient?”

Biting your lip, you couldn’t hide your contempt, “You expected me to go to the press?”

“I thought that was the plan”

“There was no plan. Nor an exchange of terms between you and I. I sought your help because I thought you had information on my employment, and you did. There is nothing more to say”

He goes quiet for a moment, before lifting his signature smirk to his face.

“I see the Ice Princess has some fire in her”

Aemond’s grip tightens, as if he’s ready to explode at any moment.

“I do hope Floris is alright” he muses, taking a short step forward, “it’d be a shame for such a capable skater to retire so soon into her career”

Your eyebrows furrow.

Was that a fucking threat?

Larys smirks slightly, appearing to have hit the nerve he was after.

"Good luck with the finals"

"Watch it" Aemond responds, keeping a firm grip on your arm. Now because he's afraid you might actually hurt him.

Larys laughs through his nose.

Fuck you.

You and Aemond watch with bated breath as Larys leaves slowly, the clang of the double doors rattling behind him.

Aemond let's out a breath.

"Should I be watching where I put my skates now?" You ask him, half joking. But it earns a breathy laugh nonetheless.

"You say that. Maybe you should"

Practice goes as expected.

The routine is intricate, perhaps the most technical so far, but in a nice way. Working with Aemond now, when everything had been addressed was nice.

Gods it was so nice.

It almost made you sad that he wanted to retire after the finals.

He was so graceful. For such a tall guy, lined with lean muscle, he had such elegance on the ice. Wasn't afraid to show off, which the judges would no doubt love.

The song?

Swan Lake. The Ending Song.

A bold choice of Otto's.

Was that a threat too? Perhaps?

It didn't bother you too much, as you'd found a perfect place within the song to do what you had planned for weeks.

And gods, it'd all be worth it to see his face.

It was all very surreal.

A flurry of texts crowded your screen on the morning of the finals.

Rhaenys.

Baela. Rhaena.

Floris.

El.

Even some of your family.

Estranged family.

You're certain you blocked their number.

You sigh, pulling the towel around yourself and walking out of the open wet room. Aemond is laid flat on his back on the bed, a damp cold cloth applied to the marred eye.

If you didn't know any better, he looked asleep.

"Still bothering you?" You ask.

He just makes a noise of confirmation. His eye not moving.

You rub his arm lovingly as you sit next to him.

His eye had been bothering him all night, so much so that embarrassingly (his words) he'd had to remove the glass eye he wore and slept without it to alleviate the pain.

He'd looked so vulnerable when he showed you.

As if you'd run away when you saw it.

But instead, your heart leapt. You were more lovey than usual after a little drink at the bar with Aemond after practice, and you'd pressed your lips to his scarred cheek. Lingering.

Little did you know, that his heart leapt as well.

And when you slept, moulded in each other's arms.

It felt like it was always meant to be this way.

It changed something.

"Do you want some painkillers?" You ask softly,

"I'm alright, just took some…waiting for them to kick in"

Patting his arm, you give him a reassuring smile, though he can't see it.

Making sure he's not looking, you sneak the outfit out of your suitcase and into your bag for later. Biting your lip, you try hard to contain the excitement in your veins. And nerves as well.

For a lot of things.

Ping!

You laugh through your nose.

Scrolling, you check the other messages you have.

You laugh at that too.

Gods she's such a boomer. It's kind of painful.

You shoot her a quick text back, clearing the texts from your family without replying.

Not like they deserve it anyway.

Everytime you see a text from them now, it only reminds you of why Otto hired you.

Bad circumstances.

Someone of low background.

Ugh fuck him.

Fuck. Him.

With a barge pole if needed.

Aemond huffs as he gets up, squinting and looking over at you, "ready to dance with the vipers?"

"Oh more than ready" you smile at him.

You're thankful you have your own dressing room at least. To get everything right without Aemond's curious eye constantly looking at you.

No time for quickies this time round.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hair all done into a ponytail with curls falling from it. Decorated with glitter hairspray and little pearls. Your outfit is black, as Otto had said it would be in his email. The corset is almost velvet like, with a slight v at the top (which made it difficult to initiate your plan, but you managed).  And the mesh skirt over the leotard sways like a cloud over your legs.

You steel yourself.

You can do this.

When you go out to the hallway, looking down to the ice rink, where the stands are entirely full with the echoed chatter of the audience, your skin immediately prickles with nerves.

You feel Aemond's hand on the small of your back, making heat crawl up your neck.

"Feeling okay?" He asks in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

You don't think you'll ever get over the feeling you get when you see him with his sapphire eye.

It literally takes your breath away.

But his scar looks reddened somewhat.

You furrow your brows, "Are you?" You ask, concerned, "your eye. It looks sor-"

"I'm fine" he says quickly.

I don't believe that.

You can see the way he's trying to be brave about it. His jaw tight and his good eye looking anywhere but you, as if he knows he'll be found out.

"Aemond we don't have to. If you're in pain-"

"No. I want to do this for you" he urges.

For you.

You swear for a moment your heart skips a beat, stilling in your chest as the rest of you gets warm.

Aemond can never be forced.

He's stubborn like that.

A Targaryen trait, you muse.

But you know deep down, he won't heed your warning. He's headstrong. Completely sure of his own opinion, rightly or wrongly.

There's something about it now though, which doesn't feel right.

"I'm alright, princess. Promise" he adds, taking one of your hands in his while he takes in your outfit.

"You look nice" he says, forcing a smile to his face. His hand goes over your sleeves to the clips at the top. He plays with them briefly, as if wondering what they are before you playfully slap his hand away.

"Off"

He gives you a look.

A suspicious one.

He knows you're up to something.

Then he smiles.

Again a forced one, but stubbornness will kill him first.

As you both walk towards the ice rink, journalists, media, the judges, the faces of the audience as well as the Martells all serve to wake your nerves.

You wave at Rhaenys in the crowd, Baela and Rhaena seated either side of her.

"There they are, the Ice Prince and Princess. Ready for the finals in their all black get up"

"They appear to be closer this time, speaking in hushed voices- oh! Was that a kiss I saw?"

"It was! Perhaps there is more to this mere partnership than meets the eye"

Aemond whispers to you, "up in the stands, to the right"

When you follow his eyeline, your face drops and you turn to avoid the cameras from getting a good look at your expression.

Otto Hightower sits there.

Alone.

Good.

He's looking down at you both, chin high but his gaze looking over his nose like you're shit at the bottom of his shoe. His hands are clasped in expectancy, clearly desiring a favourable outcome to the performance.

But at least now you know where he is, so you can see the look on his face.

The thought of it has an evil smirk rise to your face.

"Are we going first?" You ask.

Aemond nods.

Fuck. You hate going first.

And as if by magic-

"Aemond fucking Targaryen. The One-Eyed wonder!"

Qoren's voice has a tendency to travel. And right now, it's travelling through every nerve in you, jolting them awake. He walks over with a swagger, a slowness, clad entirely in bright mustard and wine tones, akin to his partner who is sat on the bench scrolling through her phone.

Aemond sighs, "Qoren" he greets flatly, rubbing his thumb against his temple on the marred side of his face.

"Just wanted to say good luck" Qoren smirks, nudging a curled wave out his face, "I'm certain you won't need it"

Cunt.

That's what you want to say.

Instead, you roll your eyes and take Aemond's hand leading him to the ice rink.

"Ignore him" you tell him, pulling of the blade guards and tossing them aside.

Aemond huffs a laugh, "Seven Hells, if he's in your bad books he's done for" he replies, joining you as you both go out onto the ice to do a few laps.

"Our Crownlands couple look ready and composed for a challenge today"

"And a challenge it will be. It's never easy going first, especially against the Martells. They'll have to work for it"

You skate next to him for a few warm-up laps, the heat rising again to your face as he takes your hand, giving his signature one sided smile.

Your heart flutters pleasantly.

In front of all these people?

He sees your reaction.

"I'm not going to hide anything anymore, princess" he says softly, "I've done it for far too long"

One part of you wants to cry with joy.

The other wants to drag him to the nearest dark corner.

So instead, you squeeze his hand. A good compromise.

As you skate to a halt in the middle, you mouth the words.

'I love you'

And your heart roars with delight.

He mouths it back.

"Our couple seem utterly smitten with each other"

"Their chemistry rivals the Martells, for sure!"

Taking a deep breath, you and Aemond nod to each other, getting in position to wait until the music starts.

It's quiet.

You could hear a pin drop.

His hand is warm.

The clarinets begin to play, the opening sequence of violins accompanying the music as you and Aemond begin the medium paced routine. The only sound you both can hear is the blades tearing through the ice, the rustle of your clothing against each other and the shallow breaths between each movement of the routine, moving swiftly hand in hand, twirling and feeling light and airy as Aemond lifts you effortlessly.

The music is almost frantic, the trumpets are getting so loud that they almost vibrate the ice beneath you. But you concentrate on the routine at hand, letting Aemond take your weight with each quick lift into the air, each synchronised motion perfectly executed.

“Quite a quick routine from the couple. Good choice of song and good technical ability so far”

“Yes, they really look like a proper team now, don’t they?”

As the music picks up momentum, you briefly glance at the stands mid-spin, smirking when you spot Otto’s eyes half closed, looking right at you. As if wondering what it is you are thinking.

Drums.

As Aemond moves in front of you for a split second, your hands lift to your shoulders, unpopping the buttons there.

No going back now.

Aemond looks over you in brief shock as the black is completely encompassed, a sheet of dark green falling over it like a curtain, replacing the beaded darkness with the bright forest colour he was so used to seeing his mother wear on her old performances.

It quickly changes to a barely-contained smile as the fabric laps at your thighs, the green mesh replacing the translucent black, right as the music hits its crescendo.

"Oh my-is that what I think it is!"

"Hightower Green looks very good on our Ice Princess!"

You don’t even have time to look at Otto.

The audience is a mix of clapping, awes and shouting of support. Never wavering for a moment.

Aemond continues the routine with a big, boyish smile plastered onto his face, performing the rest of the moves and lifts with a renewed vigour and passion that was not there before.

The rest of it seems to fly by, assisted by the smitten way you look at one another. Before you even know it, the music has died out. You and Aemond face each other, foreheads almost touching as the applause roars around you, several items like flowers and flags being thrown onto the ice around you.

It’s difficult to describe Aemond’s expression. Awe? Affection? Lust?

Love.

All you know is that you love it. And that all this was worth it.

You’re about to open your mouth, when his hands find each side of your face, his fingers holding the back of your head desperately, as he crashes his lips to yours.

In front of everyone.

In front of all of Westeros.

It feels exhilarating. Adrenaline boils the blood inside you, burning for him. And when you part, breathless after not only that, but the energy of the routine, all you can do is smile. Feeling so in love with him it’s honestly disgraceful.

Hand in hand, you bow to the audience, a massive grin plastered on your face. Rhaenys, Baela and Rhaena are all stood, clapping passionately. Larys is seated at the end of a particular row, both hands clasped on his cane, smirking beneath it, as if he just loves watching the drama unfold.

And then Otto.

You’re happy to find he looks absolutely livid.

That's right, you think. This is where my loyalties lie.

Aemond’s grip tightens on you as you give your bow to the judges. But it’s not a tight, comforting hold. Not one of victory, or love.

“Aemond?..” you ask, turning to him.

He’s breathing heavily, his other hand pressed to the scarred side of his face, his good eye blinking quickly as he turns to you.

Your face blanches, “Aemond, what’s wrong-”

“I’m fine, it’s just-ah fuck”

He nearly doubles over in pain, his hand pressed painfully to the left side of his face, the faintest bit of blood trickling between his fingers.

Panic rings through you, and with your hands on his sides, you guide him on the ice towards the edge, helping him sit, ignoring the muffled whispers and rumours that echo around the atrium, “let me see, Aemond..”

He shakes his head erratically, “No, no, just-I’m okay”

“Aemond you are not okay” you urge, watching the way his other eye waters from the pain, his face going pink as he encourages himself to take deep breaths.

“It appears he may have some sort of injury. We’re waiting on some updates from management”

“Who do you need me to call?” you ask him hurriedly,

“I don’t know-fucking-call Mum, please” he replies pitifully, bending over in searing, hot pain that radiates from his eye socket.

Spotting Arryk, you rush over and grab his phone that he throws, pulling it to your ear while rubbing Aemond’s shoulder.

“Aemond, take the sapphire out, it’s just going to hurt you more-”

“No, no, I can’t-” he shakes his head, panicked and scared.

“Aemond”

When his good eye meets you, he looks so vulnerable and unsure you almost regret your tone.

But you just want him to be okay.

Turning away, he dislodges the sapphire, his hand still covering his face, despite having the utmost trust in you, he still doesn’t want you to see it, all red and sore.

“Hello, Alicent? Yeah I think Aemond is having one of his neurological-fuck-I don’t know-episodes? I don’t know what to do?” you speak nervously into the phone.

“I know, I know, sweet girl. He needs to go to Urgent Care right away, and needs his glycerol injections, alright? Where’s my father?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see him!”

“He has Aemond’s health insurance card, okay, find him and get him to hospital as soon as you can. okay? Has he taken the sapphire out?”

“Yes, I made him”

“Good. Until he gets to hospital, just apply a warm compress and keep him calm, okay? You can do this”

You hang up quickly, looking around and spotting Otto as he paves his way through the crowd of people. Still rubbing Aemond’s shoulder, all notions of hating him are gone in favour of helping the quivering, vulnerable man in front of you, whining pitifully as his nerves are set aflame.

“Otto, he needs to go to a hospital. Do you have his health card?”

Stoically, he nods, his eyes ignoring you, “I do, Arryk will take us. Come on”

He assists Aemond to his feet, leading him to the exit with urgency.

The fire doors open and Aemond turns to you, “You have to stay”

“What? No! I’m coming with you!”

“One of us has to stay, we’ll get disqualified” he reasons, with a wavering voice.

“Aemond, I don’t care about-”

“Well I do. Stay” he urges.

You go quiet, staring at him in disbelief and also shock. And seeing it all over your face, how conflicted both of you are, he leans forward pressing a kiss to your forehead, his fingers stroking your hair lovingly.

“I’ll be fine, baby..” he adds softly, “Stay”

You watch him hurry out of the fire escape, and straight into the back of Arryk’s car with Otto. He’s so doubled over in pain, clutching the sapphire in one fist, that he barely has any time to look back at you standing there, the warm air making the mesh skirt lap at your legs.

You only meet his worried gaze at the last second.

A shuddered breath tumbles from your lips, the adrenaline and panic of the last few minutes just sinking in. You feel a bit helpless, unable to do anything for him as he’s driven to hospital.

“Hey” the soothing voice of Rhaenys at your side pulls you out, and you look at her with bleary eyes, “are you alright?”

You nod quickly, “Yeah, I think so..”

She guides you back inside, sitting at the sidelines, “Sit here, I’ll get you a drink”

You can’t relax. The room feels like it’s spinning.

“Just a little update. Aemond Targaryen has been rushed to hospital in what we believe is an episode of acute pain due to a long-standing condition”

“We’ll wish him all the best in hospital and hope it isn’t anything too serious”

Rhaenys gives you a warm cup of coffee, but you can’t drink it, you’re too on edge already. And if any caffeine is pumped into your already hammering heart, you think it might explode.

You don’t even concentrate on the performance the Martells are doing, eyes nowhere near the scoreboard. Your leg bounces nervously, fully aware that you are probably being scrutinised endlessly by the media, with hundreds of articles already written about you.

Their orange and red outfits dance in your periphery. Spins, twists, lifts. Things that right now, don’t mean an awful lot to you. All you can think about is when Aemond turned to you, blood trickling between his fingers, face twisted in pain.

“Hey…”

You don’t even realise you’ve zoned out until Rhaenys taps your arm excitedly.

Shaking your head, you look around, everyone’s stood. Smiling. Clapping. The Martells are lazily skating their way to their end of the rink, talking with their manager, with bowed heads.

“Wha?..” you reply, completely dazed, “what’s happened?..”

“Qoren’s partner fucked her landing. They’re a whole 10 points short on the technical. Not including the penalty they’re likely to get” she replies, leaning closely to whisper it, a victorious smirk on her face.

Oh shit.

Your eyes meet the scoreboard, watching as the rest of the scores come in.

With the penalty, they’re tragically low. But your breath feels hot in your throat still.

This was always the part you hated.

Rhaenys’ ring-clad hand grips yours tightly.

The crowd's cheer, applause and shouts of support are nothing compared to the roaring in your ears.

"We won"

Entirely shocked beyond words and comprehension, Rhaenys pulls you into a hug, jumping up and down excitedly. Your face is blanched with shock, eyes still, and you realise you must look a total idiot to everyone else. The reality of the situation still not entirely dawning on you.

"The Crownlands have done it. The Championship title is theirs!"

"Shame our Ice Prince cannot be there to receive his trophy"

"Go! Go!" Rhaenys urges, pushing you by your shoulders to the stands where the judges are all grinning, holding the trophy, medals and large bouquet of gloriously colourful flowers.

It's a blurred slew of 'well done' and 'congratulations'.

The Martells, though devastated, nod in your direction in congratulations. And you barely hear it, but Qoren even seems to offer some sort of kind words for Aemond's condition.

Still doesn't make him less of a twat.

The trophy, long and golden, is heavy in your hands, rested against your shoulder, with the flowers pushed into your other, shoulders sagging with the weight of two medals around your neck.

Aemond.

With a few quick thank yous and bows of your head, your panicked, searching eyes find Rhaenys, who already has her car keys and your jacket in her grip.

"Come on" she utters, "quickly"

It feels utterly silly to still be wearing the green outfit for the competition while riding in the passenger seat of Rhaenys' Mercedes. But at least your black jacket provides some semblance of normality. You didn't even have time to take the medals off.

You did however, change your shoes, shucking your skates off in the footwell of her car.

She's driving well over the speed limit. But hey, most of Sunspear are as well. Through several junctions, she even graces some of the locals with her middle finger.

If you weren't so taut with nerves, it'd make you laugh.

The tyres screech loudly as she pulls into the hospital car park, the trophy nestled between your legs nearly making you trip over yourself as you hurl yourself out the car door.

Those tell-tale clicks of camera shutters and the echo of incessant questions are instantly upon you.

With the trophy loosely in one hand, all you can do is run to the entrance of the hospital, where the media are not allowed.

This time, they part a path for you.

The security guards at the front who have been fending them off, see your outfit, medals and trophy and immediately slip the door open, "Room 47"

You nod in thanks, your breath feeling like blood in your throat from the effort of running so fast and so suddenly. The lights inside the hospital hallways are stark, clinical, and far too bright. Your trainers thud against the linoleum floor, eyes desperately searching for the numbers on the rooms.

"25...24...shit, I'm going the wrong way-"

Aemond.

It doesn't help in the slightest that the hospital is a complete maze. You probably look a complete mess, pink in the face, hair all mussed up from running, but it's the last thing on your mind.

At the end of the hallway, you spot Otto, chatting with a dark-haired man in a white coat. Engaged in conversation, only looking up when the tide of loud footsteps comes closer to them.

You don't care about that either.

Otto tries to reach out to stop you from going in, but you're too fast, fiddling with the handle of the door before he has a chance to pull you back.

It's quiet. Your hurried breathing sounds so loud in your chest.

The door slams into the wall and Aemond looks up, seated sideways on the hospital bed. His cheeks are pink, from the remnants of pain that still linger, but he looks calmer, relaxed, with his brows unfrowned and sitting comfortably on his forehead. His hair, that was so neatly styled for the competition in his signature bun is somewhat curled from the sweat on his forehead and back of his neck.

A surgical patch is taped over his left eye.

His lips twitch when he sees you there, his right eye gleaming with affection, clearly out of breath, having ran the entire length of the hospital to get to him.

"Hey Princess..." he says softly, in a way that never fails to make your heart lurch into your throat.

You almost cry with relief that he's alright.

He licks his dry lips, "Did we do it?..."

With a relieved smile, a lump forming in your throat with emotion, you nod quickly, "Yeah...yeah we did..."

The breath is expelled from your lungs near-painfully when you surge towards each other, throwing your arms around one another, the trophy propped on the floor where you were previously stood.

He feels warm, with his hands around you like this, his heart thrumming fast in his chest. Your body sags against him.

He feels like home.

You hear him inhale, the familiar scent of you immediately having a calming effect on his body, his hand raising to brush your hair from your face as his palms cup either side of it, pressing a light feather-like kiss to your forehead.

His thumb wipes your undereye of moisture. But his smile says it all, his eyes crinkling, briefly irritating the spot where he's obviously had his glycerol injections not a moment before.

"I never doubted you" he utters quietly, "...not for a second"

You give a watery laugh. Hardly recognising this Aemond compared to the one you first met.

Competitions.

Scores.

Drama.

It all means fucking nothing.

The future. Happiness. It's all right here.

"Aemond Targaryen, don't ever scare me like that again..." you smile at him, half-joking, fingers tenderly stroking along his jawline, prickles of regrowth rubbing comfortingly along your skin.

He huffs a laugh through his nose, his mouth opening slightly as he smiles.

"No promises, princess"

And finally, with a pleased little muffled sound crawling up your throat, his tender, full lips descend onto yours, sealing whatever is felt between you right now and all that has happened before.

It doesn't even need to be said. Those three little words.

Because they're just not enough.

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[charmandabear]

Ascendn't

Summary

I got mad when the game wouldn't let me hug him after the Cazador fight. So I fixed it. Plus a bit more steaminess in the graveyard scene. (Also, yes, I'm insufferable about this title.)

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Tav Rating: M Word Count: 4.5k Tags/Warnings: post-Cazador fight, Act 3 spoilers, blood kink, biting, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, soft dom Astarion, enthusiastic consent

It's been a good 10 years since I've written fanfiction and probably about 20 since I've published any online. This boy got me down BAD. I made an AO3 account for this fucker. (Which you can find here.)

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

You’ve never heard him plead like this. He’s usually so cool and confident. He doesn’t need anyone if he can help it. But this is different. Standing over Cazador, dagger in hand, fear and desperation in his eyes.

“I’ll be free - truly, completely free. Isn’t that what you want?”

He knows how to make your heart melt and break all at the same time. Gods, yes, of course that’s what you want, more than anything in the world. For him to be free to live the life that he never got to have, the life that Cazador stole away from him. He was so young when he got turned. And if he doesn’t take this chance, then as soon as you manage to get these damned tadpoles out of your head he’ll be relegated to the shadows once again. You can’t do that to him.

But this isn’t it. This won’t give him the freedom he so desperately craves, no, deserves. It’s just another form of chains. You take a shaky breath and prepare yourself for his disapproving glare.

“I know you think this will set you free, but it won’t. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador.”

Astarion’s face goes slack, the recognition of the cycle of abuse suddenly clear. His eyes on you soften as he murmurs, “You– you’re right. I can be better than him.” He turns a steely gaze back to Cazador.

“But I’m not above enjoying this.”

With a ferocity that you haven’t yet seen in Astarion, he yanks Cazador’s head back and starts viciously stabbing into his neck. Two hundred years of pent up fury and revenge release in a matter of moments. At a certain point, he’s not even stabbing the man, but rather the idea of Cazador and everything he represents.

Eventually he slows and drops Cazador’s limp body to the ground. The dagger falls with a clatter, and Astarion takes a step back. His eyes finally come back into focus and he realizes that it’s over. Really, truly, over. He’s finally free.

His face is awash with an overwhelm of emotions that you can’t identify. He’s panting, first from the physical exertion and then the sobs that wrack his body. He lets out a howling cry filled with pain and suffering and relief and anguish and he falls to his knees, shoulders shaking. Up until this point, you and the rest of your party have been frozen to the spot as you watched Astarion claim his revenge. But something in you breaks free and you rush to his side. Where you need to be. Where you belong.

You grab him tight in your arms and curl into his neck, your own tears mixing with the blood and grime on his bare shoulder. You think with an almost sardonic humor how often your positions have been reversed. Whereas when he leaned into your neck it was often with hunger, or lust, or even just a flirty playfulness, now all you could bring is a shared pain and comfort. You plant a tender kiss just below his ear and he looks at you with tearful eyes, an unidentifiable question present. You wrap your hand around the base of his neck, fingers raking through bloodstained silver curls. Pressing your foreheads together, you sync up your breaths with his, trying to slow them back to an even rhythm. Gods, you love this man so much.

You finally dare to break the silence, whispering, “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” He lets out a weary chuckle and nods. You take one more look into those wet crimson eyes, bloodshot and tired, and smear some of Cazador’s blood left on his cheek in an attempt to wipe away his tears. He takes your hand and kisses your fingertips gently. You suddenly become aware that the other six spawn have been released from their soul-draining chains and are approaching, just as tired and sweaty as the rest of you. The two of you slowly get up to your feet, each helping the other in the process.

“Is… is it over? Is he…?” The woman you vaguely recall meeting in the flophouse in Wyrm’s Crossing, Dalyria, cautiously peers at Cazador’s body. Astarion lets out one final sigh, his breathing finally returning to normal.

“Yes. He’s gone.” He sounds like he can hardly believe it himself. As though saying the words aloud might somehow break a spell and make them untrue.

“What does that mean for us?” Petras, you think, comes up behind Dal. You do remember meeting him, feeling like he was like a knockoff version of Astarion. Trying all the same moves with half of the charm. You feel bad, now, about that judgemental assessment. He looks like such a lost little boy.

“It means you have a choice,” he says with exasperation. Sibling bonds, even when forged in fire, never die. “You can hide here, living in the shadows, like parasites.” His voice is filled with venom. “Or you can be more than what he made us to be. You can choose differently, of course. But the consequences are on your head.”

“What does it mean for them?” Dal asks, and Astarion falters slightly. 

“Ah. Now that is a question…” You can tell he had been trying not to think about the seven thousand vampire spawn locked up in the dungeons. He was trying to get Sebastian out of his mind since their conversation. You don’t blame him, honestly. Astarion may have been forced to do Cazador’s bidding, but that doesn’t make the fallout from that any less reprehensible. Worse even that he was good at it.

Astarion had taken a step away from you to talk to his siblings, and you can see him beginning to spiral. You close the distance again and lay a hand on his shoulder. You can feel him start under your touch.

“Let’s release them,” you offer quietly. “They deserve the same chance you got.” You have no idea who Astarion would be right now if he hadn’t gotten kidnapped by the Illithid. If he hadn’t been on this journey, seen everything he had seen. Met you. Honestly, you don’t know who you’d even be if you hadn’t met him either. The thought alone makes you run cold.

“You’re right,” he breathes barely above a whisper. “The poor wretches in the cells are innocent. They shouldn’t have to suffer just because I-” his voice catches in his throat and you see him shake off a dark thought, “lured them here.” He reaches down to pick up Cazador’s staff - Woe, you think it’s called - with a hand still stained reddish black with the vampire’s blood. He looks at it for a moment, considering it carefully, and everything this staff had ever meant. Then he slams it on the ground, red waves of energy emanating from it, using its power to unlock every single one of the cells in the dungeon. 

“They’ll need someone to lead them. Take the tunnels into the Underdark. Find somewhere… well, not safe, but less perilous.” Petras eyes light up with fear.

“What? No, we can’t-” he begins desperately, but Astarion cuts him off with a hand.

“Just try to keep them out of trouble.” The exasperated tone is back. How often had he needed to manage Petras’ emotions as much as his own? You vaguely wonder if Petras looked to Astarion as a role model. The other six spawn walk off slowly, exhausted but clearly relieved to be starting anew.

You turn to Astarion, who has just finished redonning his armor that Cazador had stripped him of. His gaze is glassy; you’ve seen this look before, sometimes even when you’re in bed together. He might as well be a million miles away. You gently touch his arm to bring him back to you. He jumps slightly, then a wan smile touches his lips, but not his eyes.

“That’s it. He’s gone. After all these years – these centuries – it’s really over.” He shuffles his feet, antsy and tired at the same time. You hesitate a moment, unsure of the best way to respond, but you finally settle on, “I’m proud of you. You did the right thing.” His smile isn’t free of bitterness.

“I’m glad you think so, because I’m not so sure.” His eyes flick up back to you, but that glassy look has returned. “I just feel numb. What I’ve lost, what I’ve gained – it’s all so much. And gods, all those spawn, free in the Underdark. I need some time, I think. Just to let it all sink in.” You reach out to touch his face comfortingly. Your heart sinks as he gently pushes your hand away, but it settles when he doesn’t let go of it.

“Let’s just go. This place reeks of death and I want to feel alive again.” He gives your fingers a small squeeze and then walks off ahead of your party, making his way down the long corridor into Cazador’s dungeon. Well, not Cazador’s anymore. You briefly wonder what’s going to happen to this place.

At the end of the hallway, you see the Gur standing there, too late to be even remotely useful. You struggle to keep a scowl off your face. You hate how they treated Astarion in your last encounter. You could be sympathetic of their pain, of course; they’ve lost so much to Astarion’s actions. But the fact that they offered no sympathy for him back, the fact that they could barely acknowledge that he was a victim himself? Absolutely despicable. 

Ulma stands at the head of the group, and her scowl matches yours. “You killed one vampire, but released seven thousand of his spawn? Have you lost all sense?”

“They were innocents. To kill them would have been an even greater crime.” Astarion couldn’t possibly sound more tired. You don’t blame him, these are the last people he wants to defend himself against right now.

“Some of those innocents are your fucking kids,” you grumble under your breath, hopefully not enough for Ulma to hear, but just enough for Astarion’s benefit. It’s clear that she couldn’t when she retorts, “And our children? What of their fate?”

“Cazador turned everyone we brought him into spawn. I can only assume your children are somewhere in those wretched cells. You’ll find them in the Underdark, although you may not like what you find.” The grief is plain in Ulma’s face, as well as the rest of the Gur. You feel a little more sympathy for them, but still no warmth.

“This is…” Ulma searches for the right word to capture the enormity of the situation, “difficult news.” She probably could’ve done better. “We will need to decide what this means.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “Thank you for what you have done – slaying Cazador was a great justice. As for the rest… well, time will tell.” Astarion nods curtly, and you’re relieved to be able to push past them and leave.

You and your party finally trudge back to Elfsong Tavern to rest. The rest of your companions are eager to gossip about the day’s events, everyone having something to say. You shield Astarion from their nosiness and distract them while he bathes in the tub in the corner, washing away more than just the physical dirt. 

Later that evening as everyone else is beginning to tuck into bed, Astarion comes to you, finally ready to talk again. You can smell his signature fragrance, an earthy citrus with an undertone of spice, and it’s positively intoxicating. You’ve grown to really love that smell, and even the slightest whiff makes your head spin. For the first time maybe ever since you met, his eyes look… soft. Almost warm, even.

“I should probably start getting used to the shadows, again,” he muses with a light smile. “Who knows how long I have left in the sun?” Your heart drops. This had been your greatest fear, that he would feel resentful of the fact that you convinced him not to go through with the ritual, thereby committing him to an indefinite lifetime in the darkness. You know how much he’s grown to love the feeling of the sun on his skin. Not to mention how it makes his skin look, soft and kissable.

“Don’t say that,” you plead with him. “We could still find a way to control the tadpole.” He shakes his head, his freshly washed curls bouncing slightly.

“Maybe, but even if I could control it, it’s a dangerous game. I’d spend every day waiting for something to go wrong. For the tadpole to find a new trick, reassert itself, make me a slave again.” His eyes grow lighter, discovering the truth of what he’s saying as he says it. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.” You reach out and give his arm a reassuring squeeze, relishing the feel of his cool, toned arm beneath the warm linen. Even after all this time, being this close to him makes you a little lightheaded. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and neck, almost as though it’s aching to be drunk. 

“I’ll be with you either way,” you breathe softly. You can’t help but glance at his lips. “I hope you know that.”

“I think I do.” He sounds genuine, a bit of a rarity for him. Lest anyone believes Astarion to have a sincere bone in his body, he adds, “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.” You playfully shove his shoulder for teasing you. He laughs and gently pulls you in by your lower back and you feel the heat rising again. Your breath catches as his eyes rake over your body and face. He lingers on your lips for a moment before darting back up to your eyes.

“There’s… something I’d like to show you, if that’s alright? Something out in the city.” He cocks his head and looks at you with an almost impossible combination of bashfulness and lust. Being this close to him and breathing in his heady scent makes you dizzy. You manage to recover just enough to quip, “If you want to sneak off for a cuddle, you can just ask.” He lets you go and you feel a significant drop in your internal temperature.

“I’ll try to restrain myself if you do,” he says with a cheeky smile. He takes you gently by the hand and leads you out the Elfsong Tavern.

The graveyard is quiet, almost serene. Astarion walks forward towards a tombstone covered in ivy and, with something bordering on reverence, brushes the vines away to reveal the text engraved in the crumbling stone. 

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR

He wipes the dirt off his hands and steps back next to you to get a better view of the stone. You stand together in silence for a moment, as if in prayer.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there.” His gaze is overtaken by that glassy look, the one you recognize to be him reliving his trauma. “I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his.” He sneers at the memory. Then he pauses, considering, “Until today.” 

He comes back to himself with a shake of his head, and his eyes return to this plane. He adds, as much to himself as to you, “Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

“And what do you want?” Your mouth is dry as you ask the question. You can hope for the answer, but you wouldn’t dare presume. He might need to figure that out on his own, and if that’s the case, you will respect that. 

He turns to face you, his red eyes full of more warmth than you’ve ever seen. Your heart leaps into your throat as he smiles and says, “You… I want you. 

“You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared.” As he’s speaking your heart starts beating loudly, blood pumping through your arteries at an almost vulgar rate. You know he can tell, and he chuckles softly. Cupping his hand below your ear and gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, he adds teasingly, “You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do.” He pulls you even closer and rests his forehead against yours. You could never get tired of this. As much as you love those moments filled with heat and lust, there’s something so tender about these intimate gestures that aren’t about sex. 

“I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.” You grasp at the back of his shirt, looking for purchase as you fall so much more deeply for him. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you breathe, “You won’t. Whatever comes next, I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.”

You two stand there for what feels like both an eternity and a fraction of a second before he pulls away and looks at the grave again.

“Well. I should probably fix this.” He pulls a dagger from his belt with practiced fingers and kneels beside the stone, carving something into it. You kneel beside him and see that it now reads

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR 1492 DR -

His new life. For the first time in two hundred years, he can call it his own. You find yourself at a loss of what to do, or what to add, so you self-consciously pick up a nearby wildflower and gently place it at the base of his gravestone. He glances at you sideways and smirks, “Cute.” You both sit back on your heels to admire his work. He heaves a great sigh, letting go of centuries of tension and fear.

“I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough. It’s time to start living again.” He turns to you and takes your hands. “With everything life has to offer.” His voice has taken on that gravelly tone that sends a shiver up your spine. You don’t want to pressure him, of course, but your desire for his touch is getting harder to ignore. These gentle grazes, lovely though they’ve been, have set your skin aflame.

“Meaning…?”

His eyes glint mischievously and that familiar flirty lilt comes back to his voice. “If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded.” Your body leans toward him instinctively, breath heavy in your chest. The words are out of your mouth before your brain catches up, “Sounds good to me.” He gets close to your face and you can feel his breath on your lips before he pulls away suddenly. He’s teasing you, and you know that he’s relishing in the satisfaction of it.

“You know,” he says with a feigned innocence, as though he doesn’t know the effect he has on you, “I didn’t care for you when we first met.” The sudden shift in tone knocks you back to reality, and you can’t help but laugh. He impishly glances up at you through his lashes.

“But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance.” He takes your hand, cheekiness gone, and looks you squarely in the eye with a rare earnestness. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” You will never tire of hearing those words. He reaches behind your ear and tenderly pulls you closer to him, finally giving your lips the reprieve they’ve been so desperate for. It’s a soft kiss, gentle, yet it still makes you burn up inside. 

He pulls away far too soon, and you gaze back at him with starry eyes. His features is soft and smiley, but in an instant he raises on his knees so he’s towering over you and he takes on that stern expression that makes your temperature rise. He shoves you back onto your elbows before bending down to crawl up your torso hungrily. He kisses you again, this time with more intensity. He pins you down with the weight of his chest and then traps you further by nudging your leg up with his knee, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from you. You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. And you most certainly don’t want to.

His body presses against yours and you curl your leg around him, pulling him tighter. An almost imperceptible grunt escapes his lips and you smile through your kiss. You can feel his smile in return and you lace your fingers into his silvery hair. He deepens the kiss, rolling his hips harder against you and your mouth opens involuntarily. He takes advantage of this momentary lapse and makes his way toward your neck, marking the trail with kisses. You seize up and your fingers tighten in his hair, encouraging him silently. But he needs more than that, and you know exactly how he’ll respond.

“Use your words,” he hums between kisses. You squirm beneath him, trying to sound even remotely dignified.

“You can,” you manage to gasp out as you try to suppress the moans that his lips are tearing from your throat. He flicks his tongue right over his usual puncture wounds and then gently trails it up the shell of your ear. You shiver with the intensity of it all.

“I can… what? I can’t know unless you tell me.” How the fuck does his voice stay this even? You can bearly even think straight, let alone string full sentences together. And yet he remains calm, nigh indifferent to the effect he’s having on you. But as cool as he is on the surface, you know how much he wants it. You both love the teasing, each night a challenge to see who can outlast the other. 

“You can bite me,” you breathe and he nips at your ear ever so lightly, causing you to choke out the last few words, “if you want.”

“If I want? But what do you want?” He emphasizes the pronouns in a singsongy tone, and even hearing “I” and “you” in the same sentence does it for you. He’s still grinding against you all while assaulting your neck with filthy kisses. You try to remember what words are.

“I want you,” you gasp, trying to keep your words legible, “to bite me.” You suck in sharply through your teeth as he hitches your leg up a little higher. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head.

“Are you sure?” his tone is still infuriatingly innocent. He knows how much you want this, and you know what he wants in return. You’re not quite ready to give it to him yet. But gods how you wish he would break first tonight. Odds aren’t looking great as his free hand slips behind your lower back causing you to arch it off the ground slightly.

“Yes,” you groan in agony as his lips continues their heinous walk up and down your neck and collarbone. “Please, Astarion. I want you to.” He nips you again at the same time that he presses his thigh right at the apex between your legs. He tightens his grip on your wrists and whispers sharply in your ear.

“Beg for it.”

That’s it. You’ve lost. You cry out in a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. The words come tumbling out of you, unbidden and unburdened.

“Please, Astarion, bite me. Please please please. Bite me. I want to feel your fangs pierce my skin. I want to know the feeling of my blood inside you. Gods, please, I can’t take it any longer and if you don’t bite me soon I think I might-”

Thank the realms that he cuts you off in that moment, acquiescing to your begging, because you have no idea how you planned to finish that sentence. The sharp moment of pleasure as he sinks in, followed by the loveliness of feeling your blood flow into his mouth. It makes you feel slightly lightheaded, and the high it gives you is better than any you might hope to achieve on Elendren pipeweed. The gentle feeling of his tongue lapping at your neck contrasts beautifully with the sharp tension of him sucking the blood out of you. You can feel him starting to get lost in your neck, his grip on your wrists loosening. You use this moment of vulnerability in Astarion to get him back by arching your back even more to move your hips against his. You hear the sudden intake of breath through his nose and you smile to yourself smugly. He knows what you did and isn’t about to take it lying down, metaphorically speaking. 

Once he’s had his fill he draws away from your neck, lips stained red with your blood. He sits up again, one knee between your legs as he looks down on you. He tsks quietly as he shakes his head, drawling, “So naughty. What am I to do with you?” You prop yourself up on your elbows and return his gaze wickedly, your blood tickling your neck as it drips down toward your shoulder. He swipes at the drop with a long pale finger and lasciviously sucks your blood off his fingertip. Your smug grin is back, knowing how weak he is for you. 

His face drops into that stern expression again, but this time a devilish smile plays on his lips. He puts his hand on your chest gently, then takes a hard turn as he grabs you by the throat. Not enough to be painful, nor enough to constrict your breathing, but just enough for him to have control. He studies your face for a moment, admiring its beauty, before he yanks you upward commanding you to look him in the eye. He leans in for a forceful kiss as he keeps his hand tight beneath your jaw. You start to lose yourself in the kiss, melting into him, and he takes the opportunity to sharply push you away, his pointer lingering on your chin to show that he’s still in control of where you look. He lets you go and leans back confidently, enjoying how you’ve become extremely pliable in his hands.

He stands to loom over you for a second more, then reaches for your hand to pull you up. You’re completely under his power and couldn’t be more than happy to give him whatever he wants. You take his hand and he pulls it behind his back, pressing your chest into his. 

“You’d better be good for me,” he murmurs against your lips, once again denying the kiss you ache for. “We wouldn’t want to punish any bad behavior, now would we?” He caresses your face momentarily and then turns with your hand still in his and pulls you toward… somewhere. Honestly, you couldn’t care where. You love him, and you love this, and you’ll go wherever he leads. 

#astarion fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #astarion angst #astarion fluff

[mitch-the-silly]

Hi I’m new to your blog so I apologize if I requested anything wrong in this ask

Could I request a vox x reader where reader comes crying to vox and as he is trying to comfort her someone walks in which makes him switch up to kind and soft to mean and unfair towards reader at one point even pointing out her insecuritys on accident which makes reader cry more and kinda distance herself from him. How would vox feel and comfort ready after this?

Thanks and have An amazing day!

No no, it's ok! You'll find that I LOVE writing angst. It's honestly my area of expertise. And I LOVED this idea so much that when I was looking through my asks just now, I was like "Eh, lemme go to sleep" but I saw your ask and knew I could afford to sleep a bit later!

Anyway, mean Vox is very much real to me (mayhaps even canon)-

For extra angst, The one to walk in will be Valentino and some other Overlords (but mainly Valentino because I hate his goofy, bald ass).

Vox x fem!reader

Angst!!!

Warnings: Valentino (EWWWW)

"Roses are Made of Thons"

You felt distressed, only one person in this world could console you and you knew it. So you ran to his office and buried yourself in his chest. Your lover, Vox, held you close to him. He was caressing your face with gentle care. He was always so gentle and loving with you, so when he asked you what was wrong and you told him about your sorrows, you confided he’d keep to himself and help you.

“I… I tried my best, and I think I still look terrible! I mean, look at me… I just…” You sniffled, hiccupping from how desperate you were.

“Hey… hey… what did we say? I love you just the way you are. I think you’re cute, you don’t need to try to look good when you already look good.” He spoke, kissing your cheek.

“Really? Are you sure…? I just… I see all the models in your shows… and… I just…” You mumbled, tears threatening to stream down again.

“It’s just a show. And it's meant to appease those dirty fuckers who look like ugly fucking losers with absolutely zero contact with women. It’s not based on my standards…” He reassured you, kissing you again.

However, this would soon be gone, because the door to his office opened without a previous announcement, and storming in came Valentino along with some other overlords. “Ugh, Vox, I need you to settle something- Oh. Are you getting taken care of by your little putita?~” Valentino cooed at him, making fun of your relationship.

You knew he had a thing for Vox, and were very much aware he was salty that Vox had decided to be loyal to you. So it was obvious Valentino hated your guts despite you not really interacting with him.

“It’s nothing important, what do you need?” He smiled, wiping your tears and placing you on his lap. He held your head to his chest, trying to hide your lack of composure.

“Well, look, I had a few drug deals with these two, and I thought you’d paid them but- Vox… why is she moving like that?” Valentino paused, lowering his sunglasses and squinting at you attempting to see better.

“I already told you it was nothing. Are you gonna speak or not?” Vox scoffed, nudging you to stop it.

“She’s distracting me, Vox. Control your bitches or I’ll teach her how I control mine.” Valentino huffed, lighting his cigarette and rolling his eyes.

“Y/n, stop crying, I’m busy right now, go and cry somewhere else please.” Vox spoke, turning towards you, and pushing you off his lap. You tried to wipe your tears, but they kept rolling down your cheek.

Was this really what he was acting like right now? “V-vox but…”

“What is she even bitching about anyway? I bet it’s that outfit she had on. It’s not doing her any favors. I’d cry too if I was in that rag.” Valentino joked cruelly, the other overlords laughed… Vox did too.

“She’s just crying over her not looking good, cut her some slack!” Vox chuckled, and then he turned towards you. “Come on, I’ll get back to you once I’m done with this. Meet me in my room, sweetie.” Vox spoke casually, dismissing you completely.

You couldn’t believe it… he was just shoving you to the side. Giving you the cold shoulder over Valentino and the other overlords… He was making fun of you and even told them the one thing you told him not to say.

You felt hot tears roll down your cheek, and you ran out of the room. Ignoring Vox’s request to wait for him in his room. Matter of fact, you stayed in your own room for a couple of days, sulking, desiring to never see him again after what he’d done to you. You could hear him knock at your door, and try to make amends, but you simply couldn’t bring yourself to open the door.

After a few days, you finally decided to come out of your room. Vox had been watching your hallway’s cameras for the past few days, and the second he spotted you out, he zapped to where you were.

“Y/n! Please! Can we talk?” He asked as you turned away form him, still mad at him.

“Please, I know I acted like an asshole, but… I just… If I showed them a soft side they weren’t gonna take me seriously! My whole business is a fake image of myself! If I don't uphold it, I'm fucked! My whole empire falls apart!” He cried out, almost groveling at your feet.

“You… you didn't have to tell them that about me… what I was insecure about…” You mumbled, tears threatening to creep in again.

“I know! And… I… I’m sorry, I was a fucking idiot and I was just feeding Valentino’s little games. I’m way too used to it, but I… I need to work on it, just please… Please don’t leave me! I fucked up, ok? I’m human, please don’t leave me over something I regret doing!” He pleaded, walking closer to you and taking your hand. Begging you for forgiveness.

“I… I need a bit more time… but… I accept your apology…” You mumbled, looking away. “Don’t do that again…”

“I won’t, I promise! I’ll give you your time, just… please don’t cut me off… The days you didn't talk to me were miserable… Please… I can’t live without you…” He begged.

“I heard you the first time… I’ll text you, don’t worry…” You mumbled back, reentering your room.

It was sort of a win for Vox, but he’d gotten too carried away. He’d already made sure to cuss out Valentino for his behavior. But he really had to get his life together. He just knew that if he pulled another one like this, he’d lose her.

#hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #vox header #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox angst #vox x reader angst #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin angst #vox is just so bbg i swear #man-child vox is so real #man-child vox #valentino #valentino hate #valentino hazbin hotel

[simphornies]

Angst! I choose you! (That was cringe I'm sorry 😭)

Can I please request a Vox x Female Reader where Reader protected Vox from Valentino

(PS: Val killed Reader in the process)

And because of that Velvette has to take care of a Depressed Vox

A/N: My friend and I were going back and forth on ideas for this because we love angst. I hope you guys enjoy! A part 2 will be made for this because I love you guys

Word count: 1.6k (1,611) Warnings: ANGST, valentino being a FUCKER, descriptions of violence, death, there is no mention of y/n but it's f!reader

My Beloved [ Vox x F!Reader ]

Vox got into another argument with Valentino. Both overlords had anger issues so their arguments always end up becoming explosive with glassware being thrown around. You came in as soon as you got word of their fight. When you ran into his office, it was clear that it was about you again. Valentino shoved you out of his way, glaring at you, seething with anger. He slammed the door shut but you couldn’t care any less. You ran to your lover’s side and held his hand.

“Vox? What happened?” You frowned, seeing all the broken glass. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“It’s…” He hesitated and planted a gentle kiss on your hand, “It’s nothing, baby. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll always worry, my beloved.” You held his hand close, “Is it about the shoot again?” He sighed and nodded.

“He came in here demanding I convince you to be in one of his movies. I told him no and well,” He gestured to the shattered glass that littered his office, “You see how well that fucking turned out. Fucking moth just won’t stop. I told him that there’s nothing he could ever offer for your body! He ju-” You gently tighten your grip on his hand, cutting him off. He looked at you and the worry in your eyes melted his anger away. “I’m sorry, baby. It just makes me so angry when fuckers like him think they have any right to a sweetheart like you.”

“I’m sorry I’m causing this much stress.” You said softly, “I’ll talk to him if you need me to!”

“No!” He said as his screen got brighter with his increased panic, “No, babe. It’s fine. I got it handled. I promise, okay?”

You knelt next to him, your head on his lap, “Okay. But if anything happens, I’ll always be here for you, my beloved.”

He smiled, gently caressing your head, “Of all the souls in Hell, I know that the most, my dear.”

Your relationship with Vox seemed to come out of nowhere to those that didn’t know the past he shared with you. Velvette was the first to learn about his life with you before he died. He confided in her. At first she just wanted tea on his life before Hell but it ended up with her showing genuine interest. He had been pining for you even after his death. He wanted so desperately to confess how much he loved you. You never left his mind in his final hours and when he found himself in Hell, his heart broke. He feared that he would never meet you again. This fear pushed him into trying to get into relationships with people that had the smallest of reminders of you. You were an angel to him, the gentlest soul he’d ever met. He was sure that you would go to Heaven but when he saw you aimlessly roaming the streets of Hell, he rushed to meet you. You didn’t recognize him at first glance but the moment you heard his voice, everything fell into place. He, honestly, didn’t understand how you ended up in Hell. You had to remind him that you ran his “business” with him. His love for you blinded him from your heinous crimes, almost erasing it from his memory just out of adoration for you. He got such a massive ego boost when he learned you went on a bit of a rampage after his death that led to your execution.

It wasn’t long after your arrival that the two of you entered a honeymoon phase, constantly out on dates and always being at each other’s sides. After months of flirting, teasing and a multitude of dates, Vox finally asked you out. He was bad at romance more than he’d like to admit. Without Velvette’s help, he was definitely going to change his mind. The way he asked you out made you think he was going to propose. He had petals scattered on the floor and held the sweetest flowers he could buy in Hell. He was a nervous wreck waiting for you to arrive at the location he sent. The sight of him standing disheveled in front of a giant “Will you be mine?” neon sign made you burst out into laughter. But you said yes nonetheless.

Days passed after the argument. You were walking up to Vox’s office and as you got close you heard yelling. It was Valentino starting another fight. You started to run as soon as you heard glass breaking. When you reach the doorway you see Valentino aim a glass cup at Vox.

You grabbed his arm to stop him and raised your voice. “Stop! Valentino, that's enough!”

Valentino got angrier at your attempt to stop him and he pushed you off of him, knocking you down to the ground. “Don’t fucking touch me, bitch. You’re lower than me, don’t forget that.” He hissed. Vox ran to your side and helped you up.

You scowled at him as you held your head high, “I don’t give a single shit who you are. You’re a little bitch baby that can’t take no for an answer.” You spat back.

“What the fuck did you call me?!” He yelled and began to step closer to you. Vox blocked him from getting any closer.

“Val. Fuck off. I said no and my decision isn’t going to change.”

You saw Valentino raise his hand to hit Vox. Without thinking, you pulled Vox out of the way. You barely dodged his swing, his claw scratching your cheek deep enough for it to draw blood. You growled at him and slapped him across the face. It shocked all three of you. Your confidence faded once Valentino opened his wings, his face shrouded in rage.

In the blink of an eye, he had you by the throat. You instinctively held onto his hands, trying to pry his tightening grip on your neck. His hold alone left bruises on your neck. Before Vox could reach him, Valentino flew through Vox’s balcony. He used your head to break through the glass door, making you scream from fear.

“Valentino! What are you doing?!” Vox yelled, running after him.

“Aw, what?” He teased, “You’re telling me you really give a fuck about this bitch?” He laughed, menacingly. You struggled against him and managed to get a glimpse of how high up you were. “You loved me too, remember? Before her.”

“Put her down, Valentino!” He screamed, glitching from both fear and anger. His pleas received laughter.

“You’re turning out so pathetic and soft, Vox.” He grins, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. “I’ll put her down, just for you~”

Your eyes widened at his tone and knew exactly what was coming. You looked at Vox with tears in your eyes. The fear in his eyes broke your heart. His hand reached out towards you as if he could reach you. THe only thing you could do was smile at him. He couldn’t get himself to smile back, he could only stare at you. This exchange only fueled Valentino’s rage.

“V-Vox.” You croaked out, your voice hoarse from Valentino’s grasp. “I love y-”

Before you could continue, you were suddenly pummeling towards the concrete below you.

“No!” Vox screamed at the top of his lungs.

You heard his cry for you. You heard Valentino’s cackle. As you got closer to the ground, you relaxed your body and shut your eyes, accepting what was about to happen. And then you no longer heard anything. You didn’t hear the way Vox screamed and cried. You didn’t hear the hums of electricity that came before his power outages. You died from Valentino’s rage.

All power was cut off in Pentagram City. He heard your last words. He knew what you wanted to say. After the time you shared together, you had never told him “I love you.” because of your personal past. He didn’t need to hear you say it, you both knew how much you love each other. He didn’t know that you were finally ready to tell him you love him. He didn’t know he helped you get over your past. And he’ll never get to hear you say you love him. He’ll never hear your sweet voice again. He’ll never get to make up the time he lost with you. The only time he’ll be able to hold you again was to collect you from the ground.

His heart was shattered. It was obvious to everyone around him. Vox never left his security room. He locked himself in there and drank his pain away. He played the videos he had of you, looked at your photos and longed for your smile. He’ll never hear your songs, your jokes, your laugh or see your smile. He was alone again.

The only person that managed to get into his security room was Velvette. She did her best to comfort him and get him to clean up. Everytime she went in there, the entire room would reek of alcohol and grief. As cold as her heart was, the sight of him crying at your photos and videos broke her. She grew close to you when you first came. Her first impression of you was from Vox’s lovestruck stories and meeting you was a different ride. She understood why Vox loved you the way he did. She never spoke of it but she cried with Vox when you died. She was enraged. The only thing that stopped her from killing Valentino herself was the grief.

None of the Vees spoke to Valentino for months and that pissed him off.

Tag list: @froggybich @baizzhu @dickmastersworld @matrixbearer2024 

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #vox hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vees #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel angst #hazbin hotel x reader angst #vox x reader angst

[holylulusworld]

Breathless

Summary: Dream a little dream…or shit…

Summary: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Trope: Secret crush

Warnings: angst, language, Bucky being an awful boss (mentioned), enemies to lovers, tension, daydreams, secret crush, fear of flying (implied)

Words: 1440+  

Square filled for @buckybarnesbingo: C5: Remote control 

Square filled for @sebastianstanbingo: Square 10: Sexual frustration

Square filled for @allcapsbingo: G 4: “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

Square filled for @marvelfluffbingo (expired): Square 19: office au

Part 1

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

“Miss Y/N to my office,” Bucky barks. “I think we should talk about a few things…” 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?” You are still a little shaken from the naughty dream you woke from moments ago and struggle to look him in the eyes. You only pray you didn’t talk in your sleep.

“I need you to come with me,” he casually says. “Tomorrow. On a business trip.”

“Tomorrow?” You splutter. “But…I didn’t pack, and I don’t know where we are going. Why do you tell me about this so late?”

“It’s a case of emergency. Stark wants to do business with one of my business associates. I need you there to distract him so I can make the deal with Barton.”

“You want me to distract Tony Stark? How? Do you want me to give him a lap dance or more?” while you cross your arms over your chest, and glare at your boss, the man himself still looks proud of his idea.

“Ms. Y/L/N, you’re not too bad to look at and you are good at making conversation. I want you to go home, pack a few things, and meet me at the airport at 7 o'clock sharp,” he demands. “Don’t run late.”

“I never ran late in all the years I’m working for you. But… tomorrow is my day off! I had had plans, and you just tell me I must go on a business trip.”

“You can take a day off after any other day, Ms. Y/L/N. I need you and I won’t ask again.”

You huff. He didn’t ask but demanded your obedience. Mr. Barnes doesn’t understand your irritation or that you’re angry at him. In his opinion, he gives you the perfect opportunity to prove your worth as his assistant.

“7 o'clock sharp, no discussion,” he snaps at you. “You are my assistant and will do as told. I need you at the airport tomorrow morning.”

It’s situations like this leaving you helpless and struggling. You should tell him, no, and to fuck off. But this would mean losing your job. Mr. Barnes is not being reasonable, and he knows it.

You’re fuming but can’t do shit about it. So, once again, you give in to someone else’s demands and swallow the words you’ve got on the tip of your tongue.

“Fine.” You turn around to storm out of Mr. Barnes’ office. If you stay for longer, you’ll slap the smug grin off his handsome face.

Morning came much too soon. You’re in the worst mood ever, and tired as fuck. On top of all, you dreamed of the smug fucker named James Buchanan Barnes again.

This time, he fucked you on top of the printer and plastered the copies of your ass all over the office. He was into degrading you in your dreams and it made you horny as hell. Sadly, you didn't have the time to take care of the problem. Now you are tired, cranky, and frustrated because you didn't get off.

“You made it in time, a progress,” Mr. Barnes dares to say. In the four years you’re working for him, you only once didn’t make it in time. 

“I’m always on time.” Your boss ignores you sassed back. “So, where are we going? I still need to get my ticket.”

“What are you wearing?” Mr. Barnes shoves his sunglasses down his nose, looking you up and down. He almost looks offended by your styling. “Are you wearing sweatpants and a Hello Kitty t-shirt? Where are your shoes?”

“It’s casual Friday, Mr. Barnes,” you feign ignorance. “I didn’t know we’ve got a dress code for a flight. I don’t think people in economy class will judge my choice of clothing. I want to be at least comfortable if I’m stuck in an airplane with two people for hours. And I got shoes on. Flip-lops.”

“Economy class?” He takes his sunglasses off. “I hate to disappoint you, by you are going to enjoy only my presence. I already got your ticket.” Mr. Barnes smirks. “I wonder if people in the first class will like your outfit.”

“Stop fidgeting,” Mr. Barnes mutters. You’re always nervous before take-off and can't sit still. You are gripping your remote control tightly with your right hand and press it to your chest. “Why in the world did you bring a remote control?”

He watches you stare down at your feet. “It calms me. When I got scared at night, I grabbed something to hold tight onto. If it happens now, I use the remote control from the TV in my bedroom.”

“Hmm…interesting,” oddly, his features soften, and he grabs your left hand. “If you are scared, squeeze my hand. It’s better than the remote control.”

“I didn’t know you can be nice too.” You glance at your boss. “Thank you.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” he replies sharply as if you offended him with your words. “In my world, you must be hard and strict. I can’t attend a business trip in flip-flops and a Hello Kitty shirt.”

You feel insecure out of a sudden. At the airport, you felt self-confident, but now, you feel like a fool. “I wanted to be comfortable. I didn’t know I’d end up in the first class.”

Mr. Barnes doesn’t reply. He waits for the take-off and thinks of the deal he wants to seal with Barton. “You should try to get some sleep after the take-off and redress at the hotel. We don’t have much time until the first meeting.”

“Okay,” you focus on breathing, and the warm hand holding yours. Your boss can be an ass, but right now he grounds you and helps you not to be scared anymore.

“Mr. Barton,” you politely shake Clint Barton’s hand. He smiles in return and asks you about your flight. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” he holds your hand a little too long for Mr. Barnes’ liking. Your boss sneers, and he squares his jaw when you giggle at something Clint said.  

“Clint, we should get going. I have a few more meetings this afternoon. Can we talk about the deal now, or not?” You quirk a brow at your boss. 

“Shall we, Ms. Y/L/N,” Clint smirks at your boss. “We don’t want Bucky to get impatient, right?”

“Right,” you nod. “We should talk about the deal and the upcoming contract. I checked on the numbers, and you’ll see that Barnes Inc. is the perfect partner.”

Mr. Barnes dips his head to look at you. He looks impressed and nods his head in approval. 

“Well said, Ms. Y/L/N.”

The meeting dragged on. Your boss and Clint talked about every single detail while you tried to keep up with them and take notes. Or at least look interested when they started talking about cars, and investments.

While they sealed the deal of the century, their words not yours, you wondered why Tony Stark didn’t show.

Now that you think about it, neither your boss nor Mr. Barton mentioned Tony Stark.  

“Perfect,” your boss exclaims. He and Mr. Barton shake hands, as you are still thinking about the things Mr. Barnes told you. “Ms. Y/L/N, are you ready to leave?”

“Yes.”

“We earned dinner, didn’t we?” Mr. Barnes asks, taking you by surprise. He furrows his brows as you don’t answer immediately. “Italian, Indian, or Asian. What do you want to eat?”

“Okay,” your heart flutters when he holds out his hand to take the iPad and folder out of your hands. “I don’t know. Surprise me.”

He grins. “Remember, you asked for this…”

“A hot dog,” you giggle. “I thought you wanted to dine tonight, boss.” You don’t mind your boss’s choice. You love a good hotdog.

“Y/N, that’s the best hotdog in the world. And for tonight, call me Bucky. We are officially off duty and got the deal done,” he grins before taking a huge bite of the hotdog. He smears mustard all over his face, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got something…wait,” you use the napkin to clean his face, making things worse as you smear the mustard all over his cheek. “Sorry…let me get a tissue.”

“Not bad, but there are better ways to clean my lips…” Your heart beats out of your chest when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. “You didn’t think I brought you here to flirt with Stark, right?”

“What? I-“You pinch your arm to check if you are dreaming again. “What?”

“Doll, I think we should talk about a few things after we finished the hot dog…”

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #buckybarnesbingo2023 #sebastianstanbingo #bucky barnes x reader #ceo!bucky barnes x reader #office au #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #kinktober vs flufftober 2023

[gummygowon]

wanna be yours | choi san

word count: 8k (longest one yet lads)

genre: non-idol au, experienced!san x best friend/virgin!reader, fluff, smidges of angst, and smut

warnings: pwp, protected sex, slight hair-pulling?, cunnilingus f receiving, the concept of virginity, drinking and i think that's it? but please lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: this is my first like smut-smut so please so beware lol but other than that i'm really proud of how this turned out! also this is dedicated and a belated xmas present to @agustdiv1ne bc she has helped me sm with this oneshot omfg (ty again bae <;3)

the friday night after finals could only mean one thing. getting absolutely shitfaced at mingi's before going back home from university. because how else are you supposed to de-stress in college?

although you weren't at that level of drunk yet at the small house party your friend hosted, you still agreed to play truth or dare like immature high schoolers.

following a giggling hyejoo to the living room, you hear seonghwa asking something about being too old to be playing such a childish game followed by wooyoung pointing out that he still came over to play so who cares. sitting in between hyejoo and san, you naturally gravitate towards your best friend linking your arm with his for warmth.

"hi sannie." you beam brightly at him, you cheeks flushed red from the alcohol.

"hi y/n." he smiles down at you again, his dimple poking out. san didn't drink that much tonight since he was a lightweight and didn't want to feel whatever terrifying concoction mingi and jongho made up in the kitchen in preparation for the people who didn't want to answer their truth or do their dares.

after settling down in a rough circle, wooyoung starts the game by asking yeosang if he ever got caught masturbating which lead him to go take a shot of the mystery juice. the shot caused him to gag horribly after he downed it leading to jongho and mingi high-fiving each other in accomplishment.

next, yeosang got karina to admit some dirty secret of her hooking with her ta in calc causing giselle to shout out about her doubts of karina's grade being so high in calc for someone who doesn't go to class. as the game went on, hyejoo and yunho ended up topless and honjoong and san fell victim to the mystery juice and was even tipsier than when the game started. you on the other hand were dared to go lick either wooyoung's toe or shoe and you opted for the shoe of course because you did not where his feet have been and you had to confess to ever surviving a no nut november (last year you almost folded but still got through). this turn however, things got a little more interesting.

wooyoung had dared you to go make out with san in a closet and although no one knew about your little secret crush on san besides hyejoo, wooyoung had a knack for knowing who everyone was into. it was scary honestly, he predicted a lot of relationships and figured out who was who's sneaky link.

"so, what's it gonna be y/n? shot or closet?" wooyoung presses with a smirk on his face. he knew. oh, that fucker.

your eyes drift to san to make sure he was comfortable with the idea which lead to him shrugging his shoulders, "i'm down if you're okay with it."

with a tug, you pull san up from his seat and look wooyoung dead in the eye, "closet."

"alright then," he claps his hands as he gets up to usher you to the storage closet in the living room, "come out whenever you're ready, we're gonna keep playing while we wait, alright lovebirds?"

you roll your eyes and shoo wooyoung away from the door, "fuck off."

with the shut of the door, you realize how close you were to san. whatever nerves you had from the wave of courage you had five minutes ago disappeared more and more as san looked down at you.

"we don't have to do it, if you don’t want to." he reassures as he reaches for your arms in order to comfort you.

"i w-wanna do it." you stutter making your heart beat out of your chest even more. "i'm just-i've never done it before."

san looks at you perplexed, he knew about all the terrible dates and weird exes you had so he assumed that you at least made out with them. "i thought-"

"i didn't, i haven't even lost my virginity yet and now i'm really scared because i'm kissing my best friend who probably thinks they're a prude and what if i'm really bad and i mess things up and you hate it for it and-"

to shut you up, san presses his lips against yours as you melt into the kiss and allow him to take over. with a smooth swipe of his tongue, you part your lips slightly just enough for him to slip in earning a sweet moan from you. his hand sneaks his way to the back of your head to pull you even closer to him and further deepen the kiss.

when you pull back, your lipstick was all over his face and your lips were puffy and swollen. your eyes were locked on san as he put his forehead on yours, his eyes closed as he chest heaved up and down to catch his breath.

"you're not so bad." he comments, still not looking up at you. "fast learner if anything."

"san!" you whine, slapping san on the shoulder causing him to open his eyes.

he backs up, trying to get away from you as much as he can in the cramped closet, "hey, i'm giving you a compliment."

"that's a shitty compliment." you fire back with a pout on your lips as your eyes focus on the floor.

swiftly, san reaches your chin with his thumb forcing you to look up at him. without even hesitating, san leans in kissing the pout off of your lips. with a sudden spark of rebellion, you pull at the belt loops on his pants and pull him close to you catching san by surprise.

this time san is the first one to pull away to catch his breath. "see, you're a fast learner." he breathlessly teases.

"i'm leaving." you half-joke as you reach for the door knob.

san immediately reaches for your arm, pulling you back into him, "nope, you're helping me clean this up." he states as he points to the lipstick smeared all over his face before feeling the wall around him for the lights.

"aren't you old enough to do this yourself?" you whine as you lick your thumb and try to rub off the pink lip gloss off his plump lips.

"yeah, but i want you to do it." san answers as he places his hands on your waist. absentmindedly, he begins to rub small circles onto your hips as you quietly undo the damage you did to his lips.

san probably didn't notice the effect he had on you but holy fucking shit your face felt ten times warmer than it was when you were kissing him. it could be the alcohol settling in possibly but who knows. maybe san just had that effect on you.

"you know san, you're really fucking hot." you confess without thinking as you wipe the lip gloss off your fingers. "i would date you, if i could."

it took a minute for san to process what the fuck you just said. there was a high chance he misheard you but if he did hear you correctly well, he's gonna keep you in here for another minute or so.

before san could even respond or even act out, you realize what you just said and immediately start freaking out.

"i did not mean that. i-" you stutter, waving your hands in the air.

a harsh knock came to the door followed by wooyoung poking his head out, "are the lovebirds done? joong and hyejoo wanna play a different game."

oh how you could kiss wooyoung for his amazing timing. "we're done." you quickly say as you smooth out your outfit before joining wooyoung in the living room leaving a confused san.

"y/n! how was it?" hyejoo slurs as she throws herself on you.

if whatever happened in the closet was the only thing san could remember from tonight, you were fucking doomed. for now though, that was an issue for tomorrow. tonight, you were going to indulge in a few more drinks in order to forget what happened moments ago.

the next morning after mingi's was a rough one. your hangover was probably the worst one of the semester and boy was that telling. your memory from last night was a little foggy, some parts you recall very clearly some not. but the one thing you do fucking remember was wooyoung's sneaky ass setting you up with san during truth or dare. kissing san, you remembered very clearly maybe a little too clearly but whatever happened in between and after that was a blur. you briefly remembered wooyoung opening the door but that was about it.

rolling out of bed, you check your phone to see that san had called. annoyed, you call back hoping whatever it was a good enough reason for you to call in the morning.

"yah, choi san what do you want? it's so early?" you complain, rubbing your eyes awake.

"y/n, it's literally two pm." san deadpans.

"so?" you sass back, "it's still too early for me."

you hear san sigh on the other end, "ok anyways, did you finish the plan for the comp sci workshop? seonghwa is asking for it, he said you were supposed to send it earlier this morning."

a part of you freezes in shock while the other part of you scans your room for your laptop that was covered in papers and notes from studying. "you're fucking joking right."

"nope."

"oh my fucking god, i totally forgot about it while i was studying for exams shit. oh my fucking god. fuck." you curse as you hurriedly get out of bed.

"don't worry, i covered for your ass and told seonghwa that you were working on it which is why you weren't answering your phone. i'm also on the way to help you finish the plan because hwa has some suggestions for it too"

"oh bless your heart, choi san." you praise as you begin your morning routine.

it was around six o'clock by the time you submitted the doc and slideshow to seonghwa and holy fuck were you tired. there was no way you could have pulled this off without the help of san. truly thankful for your best friend, you offered to buy dinner on you and he had the opportunity to chose.

"on you, for real?" he asks in surprise as you begin to clean up the dinner table that was used as a makeshift desk for the past couple of hours. "i thought you were broke."

it took every fiber in you to not throw the hefty textbook in your hand at him. "do you want food or not."

"yes, please!" he immediately back tracks. "fried chicken is fine."

aggressively, you hand him your phone before heading back to your room to put everything away. "order what you want but don't pay i wanna get stuff for myself too."

"thank youuu." san sings as he begins to scroll through doordash.

while in your room, you took the chance to try and process your feelings. it was a no brainer you loved san. he was always there for you ever since you guys met each other in high school. san's been there for your worst and best days of your life and it was always a given that you were there for days like those for him.

however, your use of "love" began to slowly change this year. you've been single for awhile after your last breakup which was a lot of emotional damage to handle but san was always there to comfort you. him on the other hand looked for causal hookups, nothing serious. san was young, he confessed to not wanting to start any relationships because he just wanted to mess around for awhile until he graduated from college.

which left you wondering why you felt jealous whenever san couldn't hang out on friday nights or left the club early. it was probably obvious to everyone as to why you were jealous but you could never admit it.

it was way too cliche to have fallen for your best friend and it certainly didn't help that he didn't take anything seriously when it came to dating. but choi san made it hard for you to not fall for him.

san was the perfect gentlemen. he's always attentive and remembers the little things about you. he always knew when you were feeling sad or mad and always knew how to handle your moods. he knew your coffee order along with your fears. san knew your likes and dislikes and knew when to stop teasing you if you ever got upset or uncomfortable. not to mention he was fucking fine as hell. sure, it is a little weird to be calling your best friend hot but it's literally choi san. everyone's campus crush unfortunately. there was just no way you couldn't have fallen for him.

"y/n, how much are you gonna eat?" san shouts from down the hall pulling you out of your thoughts.

"uhhhh... how much are you gonna eat?" you ask, taking a moment to compose yourself before walking back into the living room.

at least you were his best friend. best friend. a title that left you feeling grateful yet wanting more. maybe one day, you would tell him how you truly feel about him but for now you're content with being his best friend.

"oh my god, there's mozzarella sticks too!" san chirps from the couch.

"get me one!" you shout as you jump onto the couch. "just mozzarella with sugar and i could go for a couple of wings."

"ok..." san trails as he inputs your order, "do you want something to drink?"

"no, it's fine. i have some soda and soju in the fridge."

"fuck yeah!"

once completing the order, san repeats what he has in the cart before pressing the "order now" button and hands back your phone.

"thanks sannie." you reach for the phone before continuing, "and for coming here to help me finish. i don't know what i would've done without you."

"no problem, anything for you." san answers with a smile on his face.

afterward, silence fell in the room. there were very rare occasions where silences were awkward but this one felt different. it felt tense? maybe you were reading into it too much but the atmosphere felt odd.

"you know," san begins breaking the silence, "you said some interesting things last night."

an abrupt cough broke your voice before you could reply, "i'm sorry what?"

san repeats what he said before continuing, "y'know, i wouldn't mind helping you out."

"helping me out with what?" your heart was practically beating of your chest when you questioned san. exactly what the fuck did drunk you say in that damn closet.

"yesterday, you mentioned that you were a virgin before we kissed and that you were a little embarrassed about it."

"so, you're asking me if i would want you to help me lose my virginity?" you ask, not quite sure if you're hearing the words come out of san's mouth right.

"yeah, i mean it's better than losing it to a complete stranger right? but if talking about this is making you uncomfortable i will shut up about this and pretend this never happened. you just gotta tell me." the man across from you reassures, his face unreadable.

"i can't tell if you're joking about this."

"why would i joke about something that you have an issue with?" san responds back, his tone serious.

you take a minute to let his words soak in because you're still sure you're not hearing him correctly. choi san, your best friend wants to take your virginity? and why are you lowkey comfortable with the idea? are best friends supposed to be doing this? doesn't this break some type of boundary or cross some line of being friends?

"if you don't want to, there's no rush y/n. i'm only offering this because i think you would be comfortable with someone you know and trust. plus, i'm already tested and i'm clean so you don't need to worry about catching anything."

san made great points on his case and you really wanted to lose your v-card and to him? even better. your only concern was how would this affect your friendship afterward. what if your feelings for him get too strong?

"you promise this won't affect our friendship?"

"i swear on it." san raises his pinky out, "i promise this won't affect anything between us. it'll just be like me doing another favor for you."

taking his pinky with yours, you seal the promise by using your thumb to connect with his, "deal."

"deal." san agrees as he smiles, his dimple poking out. "can i ask you a few questions though?"

"shoot away."

"you've cummed before right?"

"uh yeah." you answer, feeling slightly uncomfortable with talking about such a taboo topic with your best friend. you've heard bits and pieces of san's sex life but he's never heard about yours and now is the perfect time to start laying out everything.

"so you've masturbated before?" you nod in response leading to san asking a few more follow up questions, "with your fingers or with a toy?"

"both, hyejoo got me a vibrator for my birthday."

"oh? we love to see it." san comments with a surprised look on his face, "what are you into and what are some hard no's?"

"hmmm, i'm definitely into praise. maybe hair-pulling? oh, and i like it when people are possessive? y'know when someone let's their partner know that they their's or something. hard no's though would be degradation but do i like dirty talk."

out of all the things you've confessed tonight, saying no to degradation got an eyebrow raise from san.

"what?" you snap, "call me a whore and you're fucking dead."

"noted." san raises his arms up in surrender.

"your turn now, what are you into and not?" a part of you was a little excited to hear about what he had to say.

"well, i like to hear and give praise and sometimes edging. i also like it when someone pulls my hair and when they're loud. it lets me know that i'm doing something right. i also wouldn't mind getting topped. but i'm not into super bdsm or anything extreme right now."

"interesting, i'll keep that in mind."

"last question, i swear." san starts, "have you ever been eaten out before?"

"no. i didn't really get into much with any of my partners."

"well," he pauses for dramatic effect, "you wanna know how it feels like?"

"like, right now?" there goes your heart again, racing a hundred miles per hour.

"i mean we have some time before the food gets here so..."

the mere thought of san going down on you and being the first person to do had you rubbing your thighs together. "fuck it."

the both of you move to the couch where you let san climb on top. "is it okay, if i kiss you again?"

you nod, afraid to use your voice. this was really happening.

"yes, please." you whisper, still not trusting your voice.

"i need words baby." san demands as one of his hands lifts your chin up.

"don't be shy baby, it's just me." he comforts as the hand on your chin rises to your cheek. "i'll take care of you, just relax."

looping your hands around his neck, you nod beginning to allow yourself to relax. san uses the hand on your cheek to meet him in the middle as he pulls you into a sweet kiss. it was less sloppier than the last time you kissed him yet san was already pulling sounds out of your mouth and he hadn't even touched you yet.

san pulls away moving his lips to your neck as he softly licks different spots on your neck, switching between kitten licks and nibbling. soft pants were escaping your mouth which made san want to hear more from you. with the next lick of your neck, san followed up with a harder bite on your neck but quickly soothed the pain with the swipe of his tongue eliciting a sweet moan from you.

you could feel san's smile of victory on your neck as he leaves one last kiss on your neck before pulling away. "ready?" he asks, waiting for a verbal confirmation which you comply with quickly. "just relax and let me do the work. don't hesitate to stop me if you ever feel comfortable."

this time you nod your head shyly in response as san eyes you down for any signs of discomfort. "i trust you."

san smiles in response as one of his hands begin to travel downwards, his lips going back to your neck. his hands start off with a small rub on your hips then snake further down to the waistband of your pants. you were beyond grateful you were wearing some of your newer underwear but that was in the back of your mind when san cupped your clothed core.

"oh fuck." you groan, his fingers taking you by surprise as they run and up down your slit.

"already such a mess and i've barely touched you." he coos at you making you whimper.

"stop teasing please," you plead, grabbing onto his arm.

san removes his hand from your pants causing you to pout but before you could even whine, san pulls down your sweats after moving to the edge of the couch.

"fuck," san groans, the sight of you dripping for him was making him lose his mind.

san takes small kitten licks, taking his sweet time with you as he watches for your reactions. these small licks weren't doing it for you though as one of your hands snaked to the back of his head trying to use it as leverage to speed things up.

"patience, baby." he says as he presses your hips down, making you whimper.

"please, just go faster," you beg, looking at him hopelessly.

as on cue, san takes two fingers to spread your lips apart before quickening his pace. the difference in speed had you gasping as you tugged on his hair.

"ooh my god, so close." you pant, the grip on his hair tightening.

san groans into your sopping pussy sending vibrations into your core and bringing you closer to the edge. to add on to the burning feeling in your stomach, he brings a hand up to your clit to speed up ur orgasm.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" you cry out feeling the knot in your stomach burst.

your orgasm washes over you, leaving you breathless as san continues to lick up your cum. the overstimulation building up was beginning to burn as you tug on san's hair to stop.

san immediately pulls away with your essence dripping down his chin but that doesn't stop him as he dives into a heated kiss with you, letting you taste yourself on your tongue.

when he pulls back a sickening smile spreads across his face, "thoughts?"

to be honest, you were completely breathless with how fucking amazing san just ate you out and with how san was staring down at you right now with a stupid smirk on his face. "that...was great."

the smile on his face is gone as san frowns, "just great? i put my all into that."

you roll your eyes, grabbing the nearest pillow, you smack san on the chest. "i can't really think right now asshole."

"is it because i ate you out really good?" san genuinely asks, a smile returning his face.

"no you dumbass, the project really got my ass." you throw your hands into the air, chest still heaving.

"oh."

"oh my god." you groan. "just give me my clothes."

"wait, let me clean you up first." san objects before jogging down your hall towards your bathroom.

upon returning, san found you half asleep as your eyes were shut. still, he got on his knees and carefully took the wet rag to clean you up and his face.

your eyes fluttered open to see san below you again dabbing the inside of your legs carefully with a towel. instinctively, your hand flies to his hair as you stroke through his locks. "thank you." you hum, "you really did a good job."

san physically tensed up at your touch or maybe it was your words, either way he pulled away with a light blush on his face as he handed you a fresh pair of underwear and sweats. "of course, next time should be even funner."

"funner isn't a word." you quip, trying to ignore the excitement pooling in your stomach for the next time you guys hook up.

"shut up and move." san shushes as he climbs onto the couch with you, pulling you into his side.

the warmth coming from his body was too delicious as you felt your eyes droop even further. "san, i'm gonna fall asleep."

"just nap and i'll wake you up when the food is here."

although you had your doubts about san waking you up as soon as the food came because you feared that he would take all the chicken legs and then wake you up, you awoke to everything untouched (thankfully).

the food tasted like heaven as you guys chowed down however san would argue that you tasted better than whatever chicken piece he was eating.

ever since that night when san came over, something in you changed. you ached for san to touch you like that again and although you usually see san almost every day, you haven't seen him in a couple of days. you knew that he was busy finishing stuff up for clubs and packing for his trip home but something in you felt like something changed between the two of you.

maybe it was just you being extremely horny over your best friend that you didn't know how you would ever act normally near him after he ate you out. it also didn't help that you guys didn't set an official day for when you'll finally lose your virginity.

every now and then you would get the urge to just tell san to come over and fuck you but whatever sanity you had left in you refused to cave in so weakly like that.

speaking of the devil himself, san's name appeared on your phone.

morning wood: u wanna come over tonight?

morning wood: i just finished packing

hobbit: do u want me to bring something over for dinner?

morning wood: nah i can order pizza when u come over

morning wood: pepperoni good?

hobbit: yeah, i'll be over in thirty i just need to finish my laundry

morning wood: okayyy

morning wood liked a message from you

fuck. is this gonna be the night? like the night? shit. shit. should u shave? wear something sexy under some sweats just in case?

usually, san is super straightforward when it comes to shit like this so there should be no reason for you to be so freaked out. maybe you could be the one to initiate things? he did say he liked to be topped. wait, what if san genuinely wanted to hang out with you? and now you're only looking forward to seeing him because you wanna get dicked down.

your thoughts kept on racing as you sat in front of two outfits on your bed. casual loungewear with the possibility of wearing the ridiculously over-the-top lingerie underneath or something slightly with more effort which consisted of jeans and a cute cardigan.

still panicking over what to wear to your best friend's house you call hyejoo on the edge of having a meltdown.

"hell-"

"hyejoo! i need your help with what to wear san's. you rush completely cutting off your friend.

"well fuck, nice to see you too." hyejoo jokes commenting on your panicked state, "what's the occasion? wait is this the night you finally lose it?"

she knew almost every detail of what was going on between you and san. hyejoo lived for your updates and lately, she's been missing her nightly video chats of you screaming every little thing that had happened between you and san after the night at mingi's.

"that's the thing, i don't know what the occasion is. he just texted me to come over cause he's been hella busy lately tryna pack and shit."

"ahh that explains why you haven't called me in like four days."

"yes it does, but please help me. i don't know if i should like sort of dress up fancier? or like be sneaky and wear something bold underneath."

"well, you usually just wear sweats or whatever right?" you hum in agreement, "well then just wear sweats then wear the lingerie i got you."

"but what if i wear and be uncomfortable the whole time and we don’t even have sex."

"ok well, then just wear a matching set. preferably something that's not from high school, y/n."

"hey. i threw those away leave me alone." you argue back.

"whatever, anyways just wear a matching set in his favorite color just in case you guys do have sex."

"you are so fucking smart." you praise, as you rifle through your sock and underwear once more. "thank you so much, i'll call you if anything happens."

"ah i'm so excited!" hyejoo exclaims on the other end of the phone, "stay safe and use protection!"

"yes, mom. bye" you roll your eyes at the sudden change in hyejoo's voice.

it was final. you decided on wearing a black matching set since you couldn't find your purple bra in your drawer. black will be fine right? it's still a sexy color? well, either way you thought you looked good as hell in black so you got a confidence boost from that.

soon you arrived at san's, with your heart beating out of your chest. a very rare feeling to have at your best friend's house but hey, what's one more boundary to cross?

tentatively, you knock on his door fiddling with one of the strings on your hoodie.

"hi."

"come in." san greets you wearing a loose pair of sweats and a tank top showing off his buff arms.

well shit, if you weren't wet at the possibility of having sex tonight, you were already wet from just looking at his physique. the way the tight tank top accentuated his tiny waist and broad shoulders had your mind running laps.

"you good?" san asks as he looks over at your spaced-out figure.

"yeah, i'm good. it's just," you rub a hand over face to stall as you think of an excuse, "i'm fine."

san just gives out a light chuckle at your response, "well, the pizza is on the counter if you want some but do you wanna watch anything?"

"ooo yes!" you slightly loosen up as you try to forget how you got caught checking out your best friend, "chainsaw man?"

"yeah sure, i've been wanting to catch up on that."

"perfect!" you clasp your hands together in excitement.

"blanket?"

"yes, please."

you continue to fiddle with the strings of your hoodie dealing with both your horniess and anxiety. when san returned to the couch with one of his (yours actually) favorite blanket, you instinctively scooted closer to san for double warmth.

however, you failed to remember that your lewd thoughts were still in the back of your mind and as san was slowly typing in "chainsaw man" into the search bar, you kept fidgeting trying to find the best way where you relieved some sort of pressure and felt comfortable.

"are you sure you're okay?" san looks down at you. his words felt like he was pushing you to admit to something you didn't want to say out loud.

"i-uh,um." you couldn't even think straight with san staring down at you like that. "i think i'm ready."

san just stares at you in confusion, "i love the confidence but for what?"

you hopelessly look at him, praying he understands what you mean. "you know..." the blush on your face gets stronger every minute you say something dumb.

san understood what you meant. actually, he had a feeling that you wanted to the minute you started checking him out. still though, he played dumb wanted to hear you say it out loud.

"i don't know, actually."

"san!" you whine at him.

still, your pleas had no effect on you as he stared at you with a blank face.

"i'mreadytohavesexwithyou." you blurt out really fast not even daring to open your eyes. you hear san laugh and the feeling of wanting to crawl up in a hole and die grew exponentially. immediately you hide underneath the blanket hoping san would disappear if you wished hard enough.

"y/n," san pulls the covers down to enough to reveal your eyes. "it's okay." you refused to remove the blanket completely but still pulled it down just enough that your whole face was exposed. "if you want to have sex now you just have to tell me. i'm perfectly fine with waiting too, it's all up to you."

"can you please just fuck me." you pout. "now, please."

a soft smile appears on san's face as he scoops you up into his arms. "you're so cute."

"wait, where am i going?" you ask as you tilt your head to see where san's taking you.

"i am not taking your virginity on a craig's list couch."

"fair enough."

gently, san lays you on his bed before crawling towards you. once your head is on one of his pillows, san's hands trail to the hem of your shirt. "can i kiss you?"

the way those words left his mouth felt so soft and pure. you were so glad you ditched the idea of losing your v-card to a random tinder date. you trusted san enough to take good care of you and he did.

"yes, please." you answer, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in.

the kiss started off slow, as san took his time with you. his lips molded perfectly with yours. your arms tug on his neck to bring him even closer as san spreads your legs with his knee. the top of his knee came into contact with your aching core causing you to moan in the kiss.

san pulls away with swollen lips, his hands trail to the hem of your shirt tugging it on softly, "can i?"

acknowledging him, san gets to work as he gets rid of your shirt leaving you in your bra. flustered, your hands reach for san's shirt as you tug on it.

"to be even," you explain.

"of course." san smiles following your command and smoothly takes his tank top off throwing it to somewhere in the room.

it wasn't new seeing san shirtless but you swear he changed his workout routine or something because he looks (and feels) ten times more ripped than the last time you saw him shirtless.

a gasp leaves your mouth and your hands fly to his chest as they rake down to his stomach.

"what?" he asks as he leans closer into you, putting both of his hands beside your head, caging you in.

"did you get a new workout routine?" you attempt to ask calmly.

"yeah actually, yeosang and i started going to a trainer a couple months ago."

"i can tell," you compliment, hands once again running up and down his abs.

in one swift motion, san captures both of your arms and holds them in place with one hand above your head.

"hey-"

"enough talking." san cuts you off with a sudden kiss, his free hand trailing your curves. desperately, you tried to lift your arms so you could wrap them around san but his grip was too strong. your body fidgeted trying to get him to loosen the grip but with how close san knee was to your core, it began to rub deliciously against your sweats. soon, you fell into a somewhat steady rhythm trying to create some friction for yourself.

when san pulls away, your motions come to a halt like you were caught red-handed. "baby couldn't wait, huh?"

embarrassed, you turn your head with a blush evident on your cheeks.

"hey, i'm just teasing you." san comforts as he grabs your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look up at him. he felt his heart crumble (and his pants strain) when you looked up at him with a pout. "i'll make it up to you, yeah?"

"you better, you jackass." you joke as you slap his arm.

san gets back to work with your lips as his hands trail all over your body. his roamed every curve and dip of your body. the callouses on his hands left goosebumps everywhere. eventually, san stopped at the top of the waistband. "may i?"

pathetically, you whimper out a quick "yes" as san gets to work with getting rid of your sweats and panties. one of his fingers runs up and down your slit to collect your slick.

"gonna prep you first, okay?"

nodding in confirmation, san slips his finger in as you gasp. your walls clench around his finger as he pumps in and out. your breath quickens even more before san adds in another one drawing a moan from you.

once san deems you prepped enough for his dick, he pulls his fingers out causing you to whine. "i'll be back, just gotta find a condom baby." he soothes as he opens his bed stand drawer his clean fishing around for one.

finally, san finds that gold foil package, ripping it with his teeth and you swear you could've come at that sight alone. you help san get rid of his pants and boxers.

sitting up in anticipation, you watch as san pumps his cock in front of you. the realization of you getting dicked down finally settling causing nerves to bounce around in you again. his dick wasn't some scary monster cock that you've seen in porn videos but it was still fairly long and the more you thought about it the more you questioned how the fuck it was supposed to fit inside of you.

san pulls you out of your thoughts when he lets out a groan. your eyes snap back down to his dick as you watch his tip start to leak beads of precum from his angry, red tip. san slows down his hand as his other hand begins to reach for the condom.

"wait."

san snaps his head to you with the condom still dangling from his teeth, his eyes full of concern.

"can i do that?" you ask the sudden burst of confidence spurring your adrenaline.

immediately, san nods his head as he sticks out his chin for you to grab the condom from his mouth. you sucked in a breath as you slipped the condom onto san as he praised you for your job well done but you cut him as you give him an experimental pump of his cock.

"fuck." san says through gritted teeth.

with his reaction, you pump him a few more times watching as his face contorted in pleasure. you didn't want to be the only one being satisfied tonight.

"baby," san grunts as he grabs your wrist, scaring you slightly as you thought you did something wrong, "we don't want me cumming just yet."

"right..." you trail off awkwardly as you retract your hand away.

san lightly laughs at your awkwardness finding it adorable, "it's alright, just let me make you feel good now."

he plants a quick kiss on your lips as he softly presses you onto your back. "tell me if anything hurts alright love?"

you give him another quick nod as you watch san shift on his knees. with a hand, he rubs the head of his cock up and down your slit just to tease you earning him a moan from you.

once san lines up with your entrance, he slowly fills you up and before any pain or discomfort could even manifest in your mind, san smashes his lips into yours. with the way, san's tongue was dancing with yours the pain in your lower abdomen was almost nonexistent.

by the time he pulls away, san's cock was fully buried into your cunt. your walls rubbed deliciously against san, "fuckkk, you feel so fucking good." san groaned. "tell me when you're ready for me to move, love."

this new pet name combined with san going down to kiss your neck has your head spinning. "oh fuck, san."

the sensation of san's lips leaving wet kisses on your neck was incredible. to add even more to your pleasure, you felt him begin to nibble lightly on your neck causing you to moan even louder. you could even feel san's smirk of accomplishment on your neck before he continued his new pattern of nibbling on different spots on your neck and soothing the pain with a few swipes of his tongue.

it took you a moment to even tell san that you were ready for him to move since you were so overwhelmed with his little side quest that you couldn't even manage to get a word out.

with your confirmation, san pulls his mouth away from you to focus on your cunt. at first, he does a few experimental thrusts just to test the waters before settling into a comfortable rhythm.

"you're taking me so well, baby" san praises when he flashes his eyes up at you. the dazed look in your eyes caused a surge of confidence to course through his body.

san's ego grew when he realized that he was the first one to ever make you feel this fucked out. he showed his newfound confidence by fucking you even harder. the grip on your hips tightening as san tries to get the most leverage he can to chase his high.

"fuck, san." you cry out, the knot in your stomach growing. "m' so close baby."

san tensed at the nickname for a quick second. he had been calling you "baby" ever since he started helping you out but holy shit he did not expect you calling him that to have such an effect on him. "say it again." san demands his eyes flashing to yours.

"baby, fuck." you groan as san's pace increases even more sending you to close the edge. "shit, i'm so close"

his thrusts got sloppier as your moans became louder. the knot in your stomach began to unravel with each push. san swallowed your moans as he leaned down to kiss you. it was a messy kiss but yet it oddly felt intimate. there was just something in his urgency to kiss you that felt so comforting.

the mix of his lips combined with the last few thrusts of hips, the both of you finally came. pulling away from your lips, san presses his forehead to yours to catch his breath with his cock still buried deep inside you.

for a moment, you guys stay like that. in such an intimate position, you closed your eyes and believed that he was yours and not just your best friend. you wished you could stay in this moment forever and keep believing this isn't a one-time thing.

you were pulled out of your daydreaming as san finally pulled out causing you to whine, already missing the feeling of him. through tired eyes, you watch san tie up the condom to discard after he throws on a pair of boxers.

"where are you going?" you ask still out of breath. apart of you worried that he was going to get up and leave already. you didn't want your little daydream to end just yet.

"i'll be right back." san answers slipping out of the door and disappearing somewhere into your house.

soon, san returned with a glass of water and a wet rag. carefully, san gets to work as he cleans you up after handing you the glass to drink. when he's done, you give the half-empty glass back to him and encourage him to drink it. he gladly does before getting up once more to put away the cup.

immediately, you tug at his arm and pull him down into bed with you. "don't go."

san smiles at you softly before returning back into the covers. your arms link around his torso in an instant bringing him closer to you. "don't ever leave me."

"i won't, i promise. you mean too much to me"

"i do?" you mumble, fatigue finally catching up to you as your eyelids began to droop.

"mmh." san mumbles as he presses a soft kiss onto your forehead. "go to bed, we can talk tomorrow."

too tired to even respond, you close your eyes and wrap your arms tighter around him.

the sun peeked through the blinds promptly disrupting your sleep along with the noises on the street. when you opened your eyes to an empty bed your heart sank. you knew san didn't owe you anything after last night but still you wished you woke up in his arms and not alone.

with a heavy heart, you got up from his bed and got dressed again, picking up the scattered clothes from the floor. memories from the night before flooded your mind and it hurt remembering that it was only temporary.

when you left the room, you didn't expect to see san cooking breakfast.

"you're awake already?" san asks as he looks over his shoulder.

you nod your head, "your blinds don't do shit."

"my apologies sleeping beauty." san jokes back turning his attention back to the stove. "breakfast will be ready in ten."

by the looks of it, san appeared normal like last night's events had no effect on him whatsoever. truthfully, they were the opposite. san was internally freaking out. from the many hook up and one night stands san has been on, not one of them has he longed for the girl afterward. he didn't know how to react to his feelings but the one thing he did know was that he wanted you.

san was just scared to ask you to be his. there was a multitude of reasons of why but one of them was that he was scared of the commitment. in general, he just couldn't get himself to open up to just one person and be vulnerable but with you, he wanted to try.

he felt safe in your presence and although it took him so long to realize it, he's always felt comfortable around you. "breakfast's ready!" sans call out to you.

the two of you eat in awkward silence. part of you was convinced that you were making it awkward because someone couldn't keep their feelings out of it and san thought he was making things weird because he had no clue how to handle his emotions.

eventually, you couldn't stand the sound of the utensils clanking on the plates and bowls, and either could san. "san,"

"yes?" he looks up at you, thankful for breaking the tension.

this is the moment. just do it. "i don't think we can be friends anymore."

"wait what?"

"i know, i made you promise that whatever we did wouldn't affect our friendship but i-i love you."

san stares at you in confusion, "i love you, too but i don't see why we can't be friends anymore? was the sex that bad? you can be honest."

"god no, it was great. but the issue is that you don't love me the way i love you." you confess daring to look san in the eyes. "i knew this was terrible idea from the start but i just- i wanted to have you for one night even if it was temporary."

san soaks in your words, not saying anything for a moment which leads to worry even more.

"i'm sorry," you start, looking down at your hands as you try to contain yourself.

"you don't need to apologize." san says grabbing your hand from across the table. "i wanna be yours too."

"wait, what? i thought you didn't like relationships though?"

"i don't but recently i've realized i wanna be more than friends. don't think it's because of the sex, if anything that just gave me another reason to love you." san jokes, easing the tension in the room.

"san, be serious." you scold at him while a smile slips through your facade.

"no seriously though, i mean it when i say i wanna be yours."

"you wanna be mine?"

"yes i do. i know i'm not good at communicating feelings and stuff like that but i'm willing to try with you."

the biggest smile graces your face as look down at the table while san comes over to your side. maybe you didn't have to worry at all about this because in the end he wanted you all along.

"we can take it slow, as long you're mine." you look lovingly into his eyes and you felt your heart beat out of your chest. for good reason, this time though.

"sounds great to me."

a laugh escapes as you lean your head onto's san shoulder. his arm immediately wraps around you bringing you in as san places a quick kiss on your head. "so what did you think about breakfast?"

"being honest," you look up at san with a playful smile on your face, "they were kinda runny."

"that's it, we're done." san jokes, throwing his arms into the air for dramatic effect.

laughing at his antics, you just realize how much you love san and although it may be too early to say it yet, let's just say you're grateful you had a choi san in your life.

he finally was yours.

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[jeonqkooks]

yoongi + 40 (fluff) + 49 (smut) (ONCE AGAIN CONGRATS ON YOUR MILESTONE AND HAPPY ALMOST BLOGIVERSARY LOVE 🫶)

personal space | myg (m.)

pairing: yoongi x f!reader prompts: "are you blushing?" + "shut up and pin me down." rating: 18+ (minors dni) genre/warnings: fwb au, brother’s best friend au - jimin's the bro, a lil fluff, a lil angst, definitely smut; the only warning i could think of for the smut is fingering lol it's pretty mild, unedited bc that's how we do <3, smut right under the cut word count: 1.2k note: hi nary !! thank yuuuuuuu for the request heheheh i know i'm SO SO LATE to this one but better late than never right :D this yoongi has been on my mind since last august but i'm so glad to release him into the world. hope you like this lil piece <3

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

"Did you miss me?" Yoongi pushes your panties aside, his slender fingers stroking your bare core as a cocky grin graces his face. Your arousal practically drips down his fingers. "Oh, you did miss me."

When you decided to come to his welcome home party tonight, you hadn't counted on this happening, though part of you was secretly hoping for it. It’s not necessarily a bad idea to be in such close proximity with Min Yoongi again, just a dangerous one.

Old habits die hard, you suppose.

"Shut up," you groan when the pad of his middle finger circles your entrance, dipping into your heat but only allowing the digit to sink up to the first knuckle before he pulls out. The fucker, always such a tease. "Shut up and pin me down."

"When did you get so bossy?" he tuts, but he complies anyway. Yoongi carries you to the bed with your legs around his waist while his palms busy themselves with your ass, kneading your skin like it's the first time he's touching you. He doesn't throw you on the mattress roughly like you expect, but instead, he lays you down gently, like you're porcelain and he's got slippery hands. When he hovers above you, the guitar pick of his necklace dangles to rest on your bra-clad chest, and the coolness of the metal makes you shiver. It stings a bit, you have to admit.

"Since you left," you say, like it's all so casual. In a way, it is. That's how it used to be between the two of you - hiding another layer of honesty in the truths you exchange and knowing full well that the other person understands it. A secret language that only you and Yoongi speak, like hiding in plain sight. Although, that was the one part you were never particularly fond of - the hiding - but you knew it had to be this way. Jimin would've killed you both if he ever found out one of his best friends was railing his sister on the DL. "You subjected me to a lifetime of mediocre sex with mediocre men."

"It wasn't a lifetime," Yoongi disagrees, but the smirk on his face tells you that he's pleased with what you're insinuating. That he was the best. He was the only one who knew how to make you feel good. The man nudges his nose against yours, prying your thighs open as his hand settles on the warmth between your legs again. "It was three years."

"Which was a long time."

He kisses you then, and it makes your head spin from how soft it all feels. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world, like Jimin isn’t completely shit-faced in the next room, like kissing you is everything that he’s been thinking about for the past years, and now he finally has the chance to do it again.

After a moment, he breaks away to drag his mouth along your jawline to your ear, whispering things that the old Yoongi never would.

He plunges two digits inside you without any warning, but it doesn't take your breath away nearly as much as his words do. "I missed you," he says. "Missed you a lot. There were days, maybe even weeks, where I think I did nothing but miss you."

Your cheeks burn easily until they turn a shade that could compete with the rose bushes in your back garden. You grab fistfuls of Yoongi's t-shirt as his fingers fuck you slowly.

"Are you blushing?" he chuckles. "I'm knuckles deep inside of you and you're blushing?"

"Shut up," you repeat, because he didn't seem to listen the first time. "Don't say shit like that if you can't see it through."

"Who says I won't see it through?" he asks. His beautiful fingers that you've missed don't ease up for even a second, scissoring you open and forcing a whiny moan out of you, despite the sudden somberness of the moment. You clench around him when his thumb meets your clit, making you impossibly wetter.

"You never did."

"Neither did you, sweetheart."

"Because I'm a coward." You buck your hips to meet his hand as it thrusts into you, delicate fingertips brushing your g-spot on every stroke. "But you're not a coward, are you, Yoongi?"

It's strange how you're close to coming even though the conversation is making you sad, but that's Min Yoongi for you. He's got you wrapped around his finger - figuratively speaking, but of course, you suppose it takes on a literal meaning this very second - ever since day one.

It started out as just sex. It was supposed to be just sex.

He was supposed to just be one of Park Jimin's goofy friends.

You were supposed to just be Park Jimin's sister.

You were, until you became someone that Yoongi could love. Someone he did love.

And he still does, there's no doubt about that.

He stays quiet just long enough to make you come undone. His thumb rubs your clit expertly, just the way you like, as if you two never spent any time apart. You give him a broken moan, and he gives you a wave of bliss that washes over your body and swallows you entirely when he curls his fingers, fucking you with determination as you gush into his hand. Your legs start to close but Yoongi props them open, prolonging your high until you're shaking from the sensitivity.

"Yoongi..." you whimper, and only then does he pull his fingers out, soaked in your essence, only to shove them into his mouth. You watch as he hums in delight, eyes falling shut like he's trying to savor the taste. You say his name again, softer this time.

Yoongi looks at you then, propping his forearms on either side of your head to hold himself up. He rests his hips on yours, and you feel him even through his jeans, hard and pressed against your bare thigh.

"I was a coward," he admits. "But I'd like to think I'm not one anymore."

Then you both just stare at each other for what feels like hours but in reality, it's probably mere minutes. You want to believe him, you really do, but there are too many things that you don't know if you should risk. It takes a leap, but unfortunately, you're scared of heights.

You pull on his shirt, silently telling him you want it off. "We can talk about this tomorrow."

"I'm finally talking about it and you don't want to listen?" he chuckles but takes off the tee anyway, tugging it over his head and throwing it somewhere across the room.

"I do, just not right now. Now I only want you."

"You've got me."

"Not like that."

"Yes," he says. "Yes, like that."

You give Yoongi a look that makes him sigh. You just want to have him, without thinking of any of the things that make you feel like it's impossible to truly have him. Just one night, that's all you're asking for.

He touches your face, tracing your cheekbone, trailing down to caress your jawline. "I'll see it through," he tells you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, urging him closer until your lips brush. You give him a chaste kiss, letting your eyes flutter closed momentarily before you whisper, "Tomorrow."

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 10.06.23]

#yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #yoongi imagines #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts scenarios #bangtanbathhouse #bangtantheatrenet #btshoneyhive #52hertz #fic: personal space #yoongi #bts

[wayward-dreamer]

New Blood

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!Supe!Reader

Word count: 4,750

Summary: The executives at Vought American are enamoured by the new supe at the annual shareholders party, hoping to make her a new addition to Payback. Soldier Boy isn't pleased with the idea, as he's the only one who gets to decide who joins his team. He tells her this fact, and braces himself for a fight, but gets something much better out of their encounter.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Swearing, angst, SB being an asshole, misogyny, smut: dirty talk, rough sex (like insanely rough, they're supes after all), using powers during sex, choking, hair pulling, unprotected sex.

A/N: I got an anon Soldier Boy fic request to write something similar to the Homelander/Stormfront sex scene from 2.05, so here it is. It's been a while since I've posted anything, so I just hope it reads well. I may even be up to writing a part 2. Happy reading! :) @that-sarcastic-writer for your kinktober writers list ;)

Vought never really needed an excuse for a huge party.

With the company gaining more stock in the last few years, there were plenty of things to celebrate. There had been talk recently that there was a chance for them to become an international corporation, as more supes were added to their registry and employees of Vought American were being promoted around the clock. The annual shareholders party kept getting bigger and bigger with every year the company was earning more credibility, and the year of 1984 was the most decked out the foyer on the 40th floor had been in recent times.

The champagne was free-flowing, the hors d'oeuvres were endless as waiters walked through the crowd, and all the shareholders had their attention on the supes in the room. The members of Payback were scattered around, some in deep conversations with the higher-ups in Vought, and others that cared more about finding a way to entertain themselves for the night.

Y/N threw her head back with an exaggerated cackle, taking a sip of her champagne as she turned her face away from the shareholder she was talking to, rolling her eyes. She faced him again, a smile plastered on her face as her hand smoothed down the shoulder of his charcoal suit.

“So, how much control do you have over those powers?” he asked, a slick grin pulling at his lips.

“Well sir, if you’re asking what I think you’re asking… I don’t know anyone who doesn’t love it when things get a little heated,” she replied, as she lifted her hand, a small flame appearing between her thumb and forefinger. Gently, she hovered her fingers close to the skin of his jaw, causing him to jump at the faint burn.

Their eyes met as they both laughed, his hand sliding down her back and resting on her hip. Y/N tried not to show her disgust as she continued to smile, a few more of the shareholders and members of the board joining them, all of them intrigued by the newest supe to join the Vought family.

“You certainly have a better handle on things than those fucking twins,” another one of the suits stated, briefly looking back at the TNT twins across the room before he turned to her, “you’d make a better contribution to Payback than they are right now.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, clinking her glass with his.

In truth, she had no desire to be on the team for any personal gain, but if being a part of it offered greater benefits for her family back home then she was more than willing to do what needed to be done.

Soldier Boy leaned against the high-top table as he sipped his whiskey, his line of vision directly on the woman across the room at the bar, surrounded by all the corporate fuckers that had barely spoken two words to him all night. The only thing he had heard was an earful from Stan Edgar about the last mission he had gone on, but it was all a bunch of hypocritical bullshit. He continued to ignore the man as he stood in front of him, his eyes focused as he watched her, observing her every move as she practically threw herself at all of them.

“We need to do some damage control before you head off to Nicaragua,” Edgar added, stopping as he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere. “If you want to stay relevant, Ben, I suggest taking some of my advice on board.”

“Who the fuck is that?” Soldier Boy asked, a quick glance at him before he nudged his chin towards the woman in question.

“Ember,” Edgar replied, curtly. “Y/N. Promising up and comer from Detroit. VPs think she might be a good fit for the team, that we need some new blood around here.”

“My team?” Soldier Boy turned towards Edgar, jaw clenched as his eyebrows furrowed into a glare. 

“I believe you mean Vought’s team,” Edgar countered, unfazed by the way the supe was staring him down. “But she’s no one to concern yourself with. Leave that to us.”

Soldier Boy rolled his eyes, taking another sip from the tumbler in his hand as he looked back at Y/N. She stood in the middle, champagne in one hand and cigarette in the other, charming the men that circled her, and even a few women. His scowl deepened as he watched her laugh, show off her powers and flirt with them. They were all hanging on every word she said. Usually it would be him cracking jokes with all the suits, inviting them to after parties with the best drugs, booze and women. They hadn’t even looked his way this entire time.

He didn’t know much about Y/N apart from her supe name, Ember, but there was no way she was getting into Payback, into his team, without his approval. He smirked in as he saw her excuse herself, strutting away from the group with an exaggerated swing of her hips, the tight latex bodysuit accentuating the curve of her ass. He threw back the rest of his drink, leaving the glass on the table as he adjusted the front of his suit, walking away from Edgar and whatever lecture he was about to continue.

The smile grew on his face as he saw her walking down the hallway, the heels of her thigh-high boots clacking against the marble floor. He shook his head as she took one last puff of her cigarette and threw it on the ground, putting it out with the toe of her boot before she made her way to the restrooms.

She definitely needed a lesson about who was in charge around here, and who she needed to impress to be in the team.

Y/N stepped out of the cubicle, blowing a large bubble of her gum and popping it, washing her hands under the gold and ivory tap of the black marble skin. She turned the water off, shaking the drops off her hands before she reached for the paper towels, wiping them thoroughly. She threw the paper in the trash along with her gum, turning on her heel to look at herself once more in the mirror. She placed her hands over her covered chest, pushing her breasts up slightly, giving herself more cleavage in her tight suit before she headed back to the party. She opened the pack she had attached to her hip, taking out her silver cigarette case and opening it, grimacing when she found it empty.

“Fuck,” she breathed, as she snapped it closed and shoved it back in the small pack.

With one last look at her figure in the mirror, she turned towards the door and walked out into the hallway. Her heels clicked against the floors for a couple steps before she stopped abruptly, her sight fixed on the man leaning against the wall, who’s own eyes drifted up the length of her body, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he placed a cigarette between them.

“Got a light?” he asked, winking.

With a playful roll of her eyes as she clicked her fingers, a tiny flame igniting. He leaned forward, the tip of the cigarette burning as he inhaled, pulling it out as he blew the smoke out in rings. Their eyes met as neither of them made the move to step aside, staring each other down. Y/N knew exactly who he was, and she even had a feeling she knew what he wanted, but there was no way he was going to get it so easily. She wasn’t going to hold out completely, she was far too curious about him for that to happen.

“Ember… right?” he inquired, even though he already knew.

She gave him a firm nod, boldly reaching for the cigarette between his fingers and placing it to her lips, taking a large drag herself. She blew it out slowly, right in his face, slightly annoyed that he didn’t react. “Whatever you want, Soldier Boy… you’re looking in the wrong place.”

“Oh come on, doll, I just wanna talk,” he reasoned, shifting closer to her as he gazed into her eyes.

“I have a name,” she stated, her features void of any emotion. She wasn’t in the mood for whatever he was trying to do.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice deep and husky as he uttered the word.

She felt a shiver run down her back as she heard him speak her name, but she tried not to show the sudden effect he had on her. “What do you want?”

“Why don’t we talk?” he asked, nudging his chin in the direction behind her. “Somewhere private.”

She took another pull from the cigarette, blowing it out as she dropped it on the ground, putting it out with her boot again. She glanced up at him with a smile, tilting her head with curiosity. “Only if you got something stronger.”

His smirk widened as he offered her his arm, waiting for her to take it. She lifted her eyebrows in an amused, silent ‘really?’, before she stepped forward, her heels echoing on the floors as she walked towards the elevators. She stepped in and waited for him, feeling her stomach turn as he pressed the last button, ‘50’ for the penthouses. They stood in silence as the elevator moved up the floors, but she was very aware of his eyes on her when she wasn’t looking. The doors opened to the 50th floor, letting them walk out into the short hallway to the door that had “Soldier Boy” in shiny gold letters. He tapped in a few numbers into the keypad, the green light allowing him to open the wooden door into his loft.

Y/N sauntered in, taking in the décor around her and noting the theme was of course the same as his look and aesthetic. Dark shades of green in the rug and the cushions on the black leather couch, gold flakes in the black marble of the bar in the corner of the room, a gold bust of a Bald Eagle with its wings spread as the centerpiece on the surface. It was his all-American hero persona all over the apartment, and if she wasn’t itching to find out what he wanted she’d be impressed. She watched as he walked over to the bar, his suit tight and accentuating all the right parts of him. He picked the decanter filled with bourbon and poured a generous amount into two tumblers, reaching under the bar to retrieve the small bag of coke he always kept there.

“So… you wanted to talk?” she asked as she wandered over to the bar.

“All that fun you were having back there…” he started, as he made short lines of coke with his knife across the top of the bar. “It’s a fucking problem, and we’re gonna do something about it.”

Their eyes locked briefly as he offered her the rolled up dollar bill, before she bent down and snorted the first line, throwing her head back to inhale it properly. She did the same with her left nostril, wiping up the remaining powder that had fallen on her lips and rubbing it on her gums. She picked up the tumbler and took a sip, moving away from the bar and taking in the view from the floor-to-ceiling window.

“The crab cakes were fucking better than this coke; not such a crime to enjoy that,” she stated.

“Don’t play fucking dumb with me, sugar.”

She turned around, staring him down as he did the same with her, both trying to figure each other out and as quickly as possible. The air around them was thick with tension, and it was going to go one of two ways.

“I wasn’t doing anything other supes haven’t done,” she reasoned, shrugging her shoulders. “Give these guys a great pair of tits and an ass you can bounce a quarter off of and they’re drooling like dogs with a fucking bone.”

His expression was blank, completely unimpressed with her pretense. He leaned down towards the bar, pinching the side of his nose as he dragged it across the surface, snorting up the white substance. He leaned back as he sniffed, humming softly as his eyes opened, glancing back at her with a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Whatever you’re tryin’ to get outta those shareholders back there, tryin’ to convince them by letting them put their hands all over you… they just want a couple hours between your legs and won’t give you what you want.”

“And you know what I want?” she asked, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“You want to join Payback,” he replied, as he walked towards her, slowly. “And there’s only one way you can.”

“Really?” she scoffed. She looked up at him with a wicked glint in her eyes, knowing what he was implying, but choosing to rile him up. “How?”

“Isn’t it fucking obvious?” he thew back, his features pulling into a deep glare. She was hitting a nerve already.

“No, what’s obvious… is that you’re fucking jealous of all the attention being on me,” she replied, calmly. She squared her shoulders, unafraid of him even as he stood taller than her. “You can’t stand the fact that someone might take your spotlight. That you don’t get a say about what happens with Payback anymore. Everyone knows Noir’s the only valuable player for Vought. The rest of you… you’re gonna end up C-listers, with crummy deals at amusement parks and running Herogasm into the fucking ground.”

“Watch it, Y/N,” he warned.

“And as for you���” she chuckled. The sound was almost evil. “You know they’re all just humoring you, right? Countess, the twins… I mean fuck, even Edgar just gives you shit to do so he doesn’t actually have to deal with you. He’s probably got a replacement lined up for you already.”

Soldier Boy’s jaw clenched as he scowled down at Y/N, reaching forward and grasping her arm in his tight grip. The glass fell out of her hold, shattering on the floor as he pinned her hand to the wall behind her, pressing his body into hers to keep her from escaping. She growled as she struggled against his strength, lifting her free arm to swipe at him, but he was too quick for her, repeating the action and holding it to the wall. She glared up at him, breathing heavily as her forearms started to heat up, her skin covered with an orange glow. He grunted as it singed the flesh of his palms, but he made no move to let her go.

“Are we gonna fight or fuck this out? ‘Cause I’m getting some really mixed signals here,” she snapped between gritted teeth.

The heat under his palms became overwhelming, causing him to step back as he groaned. Y/N raised her curled fist, ready to strike him but a gasp escaped her as he pushed her back against the wall once more, his hand around her neck. Their gazes locked as they glared at each other, an eerie silence falling between them, both of them waiting to see what the other was going to do. It seemed they both had the same thought, their lips meeting in a rough, searing kiss as her hands fell to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Their mouths moved together, each of them fighting for dominance over the other, her grip tightening as she tried to get control over him. She bit down on his bottom lip, her teeth nipping the skin hard, a growl leaving him as he pulled back. He swiped his thumb across his lips to check if he was bleeding, seeing a spot of crimson on the tip.

“Oops,” she whispered, smirking at him.

“Is that all you got?” he questioned, his eyes darkening as he pressed down on her neck.

She wheezed slightly, chuckling as she scowled up at him. “I don’t think you want to see my worst.”

She lifted her hand, the tips of her fingers lighting up with embers, slowly developing into small flames. She raised an eyebrow as they continued to look at each other, the flames diminishing as he eased his grip, his hands landing on her hips. He turned her around and slammed her down on the bar, the decanters of liquor falling off the surface from the force of her landing and smashing on the ground. Their lips met again, just as rough and frantic as before, their hands snatching at each other’s suits trying to get them off. He pulled down the zipper of her latex bodysuit, peeling it off her shoulders and down to her hips, his mouth traveling down her jaw, neck and down to her breasts, his teeth nipping harshly at her skin. She let out a guttural moan as her hand pulled at his soft hair, a frustrated growl escaping him as she forced his eyes to meet hers.

“I think I’d rather have that mouth between my legs,” she ordered.

He snatched her hand away, gripping it tight between his fingers, slowly twisting it back as his green orbs blazed with anger. “I don’t get on my fucking knees for anyone, doll.”

“Too hard at your age?” she mocked, cackling.

Soldier Boy glared down at Y/N as he pulled her fingers back, a harsh grunt passing her lips at the force, fearing he would snap them clean off. She squared her shoulders, tugged her hand out of his grasp, pressing both of them against his clothed chest and pushing him back with all her strength. He yelled as he skidded across the marble floor, his back hitting the leg of the dining table, causing it to shift back several inches. He stared back at her as his rage continued to grow, watching as she sauntered over to him, half-naked, the broken glass on the ground crunching under her heeled boots. A mischievous grin spread across her face as she wriggled her fingers, small embers turning into short flames as she rubbed them together, taunting him.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that,” he threatened, slowly rising to his feet.

She moved closer to him, tilting her head so that her mouth was inches from his. “Let’s see you fucking try.”

 She reached for the tactical vest he was wearing, unbuckling it quickly before ripping open the gathered collar of his suit just as fast. He flicked her hands away, grabbing her by her hips and taking control, turning around and pushing her down on the table. She grinned wickedly as her face pressed into the wooden surface, letting his hands roughly peel her suit down her body, her boot-clad legs and tossing it aside once it fell around her feet. He removed the top of his suit, kicking her legs apart as he unzipped his pants, stroking himself as he lined up to her entrance. He placed his hand between her thighs, his fingers feeling how wet she was already, bringing a smirk to his face as he brought them to his mouth and sucked at her arousal.

In one quick thrust of his hips, his cock was sheathed by her walls, a loud moan escaping her as she felt the stretch. He wasted no time, setting a brutal pace to his thrusts, fucking into her hard and fast. He grunted as his fingernails dug into the skin of her hips, his pelvis smacking against the curve of her ass as he continued to pound into her. The table shook under their weight, the creaking getting as loud as the sounds of pleasure coming from both of them, the wood starting to crack at the legs.

A squeal left her as one of the legs gave way, the table tilting as it broke from the force of their rigorous movement. He caught her in his arms just in time, her back pressing into his bare chest as he pulled her back. She laughed as she shook her head, rolling it back onto his shoulder as his hand slid up the front of her body, his fingers curling around her neck. She moaned wantonly as he applied pressure, his hips unrelenting as he felt the way she clenched around him so perfectly.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, wrapping his arm around her hips to keep her close. “Stretched so perfect around my-”

She reached back and smacked her palm around his mouth, rasping short breaths leaving her. “Shut up.”

He suddenly pulled out of her, causing her to whine at the loss of him. He grabbed her by her arms and walked her towards the wall, pushing her up against it. He held both her wrists together in one hand against her back, leaning over her as he smirked, his cock teasing her folds.

“You fucking ass,” she muttered, sending him a glare over her shoulder. “Just put it back in.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “That kind of talk’s not gonna cut it if you get on my team, Y/N.”

His deep and husky voice in her ear sent a shiver down her spine, and he no doubt noticed. “Last I heard, it’s not your decision.”

“You couldn’t be more fucking wrong, doll,” he whispered, the words sinister as he leaned further into her.

He took hold of his cock and pushed back into her, his head tilting back with a grunt as he felt her walls around his shaft once more. A loud whimper fell from her lips as he kept the same pace as before, his hold still on her wrists as his other hand wrapped around the back of her neck and pressed her against the wall. She tried to free her hands from his grasp, but he was far stronger than her. He was the strongest of all supes, so it wasn’t a surprise. She had caught him by surprise a couple of times, but he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

“You like that, sugar?” he asked, smirking as he nuzzled his nose along her jaw. “Like the way my cock fucks you hard and fast, fucking deep into your tight little pussy…”

“Fuck,” she gasped, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried to ignore his words. She couldn’t let him know just how much she was truly basking in the feel of him inside her. “I-I…”

“Come on, doll, use your words,” he taunted, his breath fanning against her ear. “You’re gonna cum so hard on my dick, I can feel it. I can feel the way you’re squeezing around me right now, it’s gonna feel so fucking good.”

She whimpered as she tried to hold herself back, but he was right. She was already close and she needed that euphoric release from him more than her own dignity in that moment. She managed to tug her hands out of his hold, one of them reaching up and cupping his jaw tight. She dug her nails into his skin, a pained growl coming from him as embers singed his flesh. He recovered quickly, the skin healed as he lifted both her wrists and pinned them to the wall above her head, his hips smacking harder against her. She moaned as she felt the heat blaze deep in her core, the coil ready to snap at any moment.

“Better play nice, Y/N,” he husked, holding her hands in a death grip as he pressed his forehead against the side of hers. “Be a good girl and I just might take you in… I can fuck that attitude outta you everyday, it’ll be our little secret…”

She felt him deep inside, the head of his cock pressing against the wall of her cervix with each thrust. She turned her head back to stare up into his green orbs. His pupils were blown wide from the drugs and the pleasure coursing through him, and she knew they both couldn’t hold on much longer. One hard snap of his hips against her had her cry out, her walls contracting around him.

“Fuck, please,” she panted. “Please make me cum.”

He grinned as he heard the desperation in her voice. He knew he had her.

“Cum for me, doll,” he groaned, one of his hands slipping down her arm and into her hair, tugging the strands tight between his fingers. “Fucking soak my cock.”

Soldier Boy’s words were all Y/N needed to push her over the edge. A string of moans turned into a loud shriek as she felt the coil snap, her arousal covering his shaft. His own release wasn’t much further behind her, his neck strained back as his cock pulsed inside her, a drawn out “fuckkk” escaping him, spurts of seed coating her walls. He breathed heavily, trying to come down from his high as he pulled out of her, turning away to pick up the top of his suit and dress himself. She hissed as she felt the ache between her legs, pressing her thighs together to keep his cum in. She moved away from the wall, finding her suit on the floor and picking it up. She got ready quickly, zipping herself up and fixing her hair before she faced him.

They stared at each other as she felt his seed inside her, her mind making a quick note to stop at the restrooms again before heading back to the party. She spotted his drink still sitting on the bar and walked over, ignoring his gaze as she moved past him. She picked up the drink, turning around and finally meeting his eyes.

“I don’t need your approval to be in Payback,” she began, tossing back the amber liquid in one shot. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to talk to Mr. Edgar.”

“You’re wasting your fucking time with him, Y/N,” he stated, glaring back at her.

She scoffed, sauntering over to him, her heeled boots echoing on the marble floors. She looked up at him, a silence falling between them once more as they continued to figure each other out. A mischievous smile pulled at her lips as she lifted her hand, round and small embers glowing on her fingers as she smacked his cheek. He jolted slightly at the brief sting against his skin, causing her to giggle as she stepped back, relishing in the way he scowled at her.

“See you around, Ben.”

Without another glance at him, she left the glass on the bar and walked towards the door, slamming it shut behind her. Soldier Boy shook his head, his rage getting the better of him as he picked up the glass and threw it across the room, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces as it hit the wall. He had no desire to return to the party, his mood completely soured now, thanks to her.

He picked up the bottle of bourbon and the bag of coke, walking back into his room. They’d be a better use of his time than talking to any of those fucking suits at that party.

Six weeks later, Y/N AKA Ember was named the newest member of Payack. She accepted the new position and all the congratulations with a huge smile on her face, shaking the hands of her new teammates and bosses, members of the board and shareholders in Vought American, soon to become Vought International.

No matter how wide she grinned, however, she couldn’t enjoy the accolade. It was all tarnished by the events that came before, in honor of Soldier Boy’s heroic sacrifice in a nuclear blast. She wanted to be able to rub it in to him, making him jealous of all the attention she was getting and get him riled up, in hopes they’d have a repeat of what happened that night of the shareholders’ party.

It was a strange feeling, to wish that he was there. She just had a feeling that Vought wasn’t being completely honest about what happened to him. She couldn’t think about that, though.

She had a country to protect, people to save, and an image to uphold in order to help her family. That had always been her top priority.

No matter how much the greatest supe of all time plagued her thoughts.

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#reader request #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader One Shot #Soldier Boy x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Soldier Boy Smut #Soldier Boy One Shot #Soldier Boy Fanfiction #The Boys Smut #The Boys One Shot #The Boys Fanfiction #Soldier Boy #the boys tv

[cevansbrat0007]

The Lonely Hearts Club: Part Two

Summary: Full Story! Breaking up with Andrew Barber is hard to do. You of all people should know, considering you just tried. Now what? Read Part One.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Angst, Discussions of Break-ups, Fun with Exes, Jealousy, Andy Being a Menace, Confident Reader, Eventual Smut, Cursing, Expect Additional Future Warnings, Minors DNI

A/N: Dedicated to @atkissoflife, @that-one-anxious-mango, and @piscesmermaidprincess. This multi-part fic features a combination of requests from the likes of @writer84, @lexivass, @moejdaw, and several others. It is also, part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

___

February 15th - 12:25am - Los Angeles, CA

Wow. Just...wow.

You stare down at your phone as you wait for the bartender to bring you your check. While you had initially been prepared for Andy to be upset over your note, as well as your pretty abrupt departure, you certainly hadn't expected this.

If anything, he seemed almost...unbothered. By all of it. Granted, it was sometimes hard to gauge a person's tone via text. But you'd also been in a relationship with the man for the better part of six freaking months! At this point, one could argue that you were practically fluent in Andrew Barber and all of his fucking moods.

The guy was up to something, without a doubt. Which meant that you were now officially on high alert. Because your man - your ex - had never been the type to play fair.

Especially where you were concerned. You should've known that it was gonna take a hell of a lot more than a handwritten letter and a box of artisanal muffins to knock some sense into his stubborn ass.

"Argh! You are such a fucking ogre, Andrew!" You groan, burying your face in your hands. "Why can't you ever make things easy?"

The next time you look up it's to see the bartender returning with your credit card. She goes to hand it over, only for you to interrupt her mid-sentence.

What was her name again? You could've sworn it started with a "D".

"Sorry, I know I said I was ready to close out. But since men are stupid, I think I'm gonna need another margarita. Quite possibly two."

Delta gives you a sympathetic nod before pocketing your card once more. "You got it, sweetie. Still want sugar instead of salt?"

"Yes, please." You mumble, reminding yourself that it was okay to feel annoyed. Because you were. This was supposed to be your time, damn it. You deserved to take some space for yourself!

Even if it meant sitting alone at a hotel bar, missing the one person you loved more than anything, the day after motherfucking Valentine's Day. Cheers, bitches.

___

Two Weeks Later – Somewhere in Downtown Boston

Andrew Barber stares blankly at his computer screen, mindlessly tapping his index finger against his temple as a fresh wave of anger courses through his veins. 

He’d been so good the last two weeks. So patient and understanding. He’d given you your space, just like you’d asked. Never intruding with the exception of the text he shot off that night.

Even when he’d come across your latest Instagram post from a few days ago showing off your apparent date with another man. Some pretentious looking fucker who went by Russell Cromwell. You two had looked real cozy while sharing a plate full of Birria tacos. And then you’d posed outside of the restaurant with your arms wrapped around his waist. 

But the real kicker had been the last photo in the carousel. The one where you’d kissed him on the cheek – when you’d done the “knee thing” that actresses used to do in those old black and white movies you loved to watch so much.

Oh yeah. The two of you would be having a discussion about that one real soon. His wayward Baby Girl could count on that shit. 

Honestly, you had no idea how hard falling back had been for him. It had been a real struggle. Because at his core, Andrew Barber was a man of action. He was well-known for his cunning and mental prowess. This was a man who had graduated at the top of his class, who had then gone on to become the youngest District Attorney in the city of Boston’s history. 

And in times of crisis, he was someone you could count on to remain calm and collected while you worked towards a solution. Nothing could shake him, save for the trial and media circus that had briefly surrounded his late son. 

After that particular tragedy, Andy had resigned himself to being alone. Forever. He often tried to convince himself that he preferred it that way. Andrew Barber didn’t do love. Not after what happened with his ex-wife, Laurie. He was better off living a life of no commitment. 

Even if it meant a lot of lonely nights filled with a seemingly endless revolving door of meaningless one-night stands. 

And then he’d met you. 

Yes, you.

The woman who had somehow, against all odds, brought magic back into his life. Your laugh, your smile, your very presence – it colored his whole goddamn world. He told you that all of the time, and yet it was almost as if you didn’t believe him.

At first, he was convinced that you were too good to be true. Although he’d been quickly dispelled of that notion when you’d had the balls to walk out on him during your very first date. It’s quite possible that he’d fallen for you right then – because you were the type of woman who knew her worth.

By then, Andy had become convinced that you were a gift from the universe. The way he saw it, after everything he’d been through, he was owed you. You were the woman of his dreams – his very salvation – all wrapped up in a curvy little package. And when you ran that night, it called to the primal part of him that felt compelled to give chase. 

Just like now.

But what you had yet to understand was that, once a man like Andrew Barber had deemed you his forever, there was no going back. There was no letting you go. No means of escape.

At most, he’d been granted you a temporary reprieve. You both needed time to assess the situation, survey the damage, and then calculate your next move. 

And sweetness, you’d already played your hand when you’d left that little note skipped town under the pretense of taking a fucking business trip.

Fine. Now it was on him. And while you still held most of the cards, that certainly didn’t mean that Andrew Barber was walking around without an ace or two in his back pocket. And you had better believe that he was more than ready to play his own. 

But first…he needed some fucking coffee. And lucky for him, he knew just where he could find the perfect cup – shot of chocolate, dash of cinnamon, hold the whip. 

___

Forty Minutes Later – Monarch Media Group (20 Minutes Outside Downtown Boston)

You lean back in your chair and rub your tired eyes. For the life of you, you simply couldn’t seem to focus today. Or any other day for the matter.

Even though it had been almost a week since you’d returned from your trip to L.A., you still felt just as conflicted about things with Andrew Barber as you did before you’d left. And not only that, but you also found yourself feeling on edge about the entire situation.

Because after your brief text exchange the morning of February 15th, he’d left you alone. The most impatient man you’d ever encountered this side of Boston had actually found it within himself to respect your wishes. 

No calls. No texts. No emails. Not even so much as a fucking smoke signal.

And while part of you was pleased with that particular development, there was no denying the fact that you missed your Big Man. 

You could be woman enough to admit it. You missed the hell out the handsome, grumpy-faced district attorney who, up until recently, had been a major mainstay in your life. But after some serious soul searching and a generous amount of tequila, you’d come to the conclusion that it was important for you to get your mind right before moving forward with anything.

You owed it to yourself to figure out who you were outside of your relationship with Andy – needed it even. Because that man was a force to be reckoned with. He could be so dominant sometimes, his personality so completely all-consuming that it was easy to lose yourself in him. 

To allow yourself to become so entirely eclipsed by his brilliant shadow. Which is something that could absolutely happen the moment you stopped paying attention to your own wants, and needs, and desires.

And if that ever were to happen, part of you wondered whether or not you would be able to find your way back. Honestly, you had no idea.

Because after all of this, if you chose to be with him…it would mean that you were all-in. There was no other option with him.

That beautifully stubborn man didn’t have a lower setting.   

However, the last thing you’d ever expected was for Mr. Andrew “My Way or the Highway” Barber to go quietly into that good night. Well, suppose you shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Because if anything he could very well be planning–

Your inner musings are interrupted by Anya, your favorite receptionist at Monarch Media Group. Granted, she was also the only receptionist at the company you’d worked for over the last several years, but that was neither here nor there.

Anya gives you a knowing look before taking a seat on the edge of your desk. “Hi, friend.” She lightly pokes your shoulder. “How ya doin?”

“I’m okay.” You blow out a breath and then decide to exit out of your Outlook. “What’s up?”

“Oh…nothing much.” You watch as your friend and coworker helps herself to a piece of chocolate sitting in a nearby dish. 

“Okay.”

“I just stopped by to tell you that your coffee has arrived.” She dutifully unwraps it before popping it in her mouth.

“What?”

You hadn’t ordered any coffee. You didn’t usually even drink the stuff this late in the day. Unless…

“Yep. And just so happens, it was hand-delivered by the handsomest door-dasher I ever did see.” Anya pokes your shoulder again. “I would’ve accepted it on your behalf, but the guy insists on giving it to you himself. Probably angling for a tip if you ask me.” She throws you a conspiratorial wink for good measure.

Speak of the devil. Hello, Mr. Andrew “Check Out My Shit Timing” Barber.

“Ugh.” You bury your head in your hands to muffle your cry of frustration. “Can you please just tell him I’m not here?”

“I’m afraid I already let that cat out of the bag. But by the look on your face and the way you’re rocking back and forth like a human pinball, I take it I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No!” 

“Did you and Andy like…break up…or something?” Anya pauses as she reaches for another piece of candy, her hand hovering in mid-air.

No, Anya. I always feel like jumping out the nearest window. I’m fucking squirrley like that.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” You wail. “It’s just…it’s just really fucking complicated, okay?” 

“Gotcha. So…about the coffee…” 

“I’m going. I’m going.” You stand up in a huff, wishing you knew where you put the ponytail holder that had been on your wrist just this morning. “But if he pisses me off, I’m dumping that shit on his shoes. Hot or not. I do not care.”

“Okay, but if it comes to that can you please try to do it off company property? I’m all for you handling your business, but I’m also thinking about all the paperwork I’m gonna have to do if you accidentally injure one of the city’s hottest attorneys.”

“Fuck you.” You grumble as you stalk towards the front of the office to confront the annoying asshole who also happened to be the love of your life. 

“What can I say? I’m a selfish bitch.” She chirps, blowing you a kiss.

“Your words not mine. And stay the hell out of my chocolate, you mooch!” You call out as you turn the corner, fully intending to give the Boston D.A. a piece of your mind before you politely, and very firmly, shoved him out the door. 

Because if that man thought that he could just waltz right into your place of business and act like he owned everything and everyone, then he was sorely mistaken. You were going to prove to him, and whoever the hell’s job it was to oversee this whole godforsaken cosmos, that you knew how to stand your ground.  

The sight of him standing right there in the lobby is easily enough to temporarily rob you of all reasonable thought. His back is to you, giving you the brief opportunity to give him a thorough once-over. His tailored white dress shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, exposing his brawny forearms. But what really draws your attention are his slate gray slacks, which only serves to highlight his perfectly sculpted backside. 

He looked good. Nobody deserved to look that damned good, least of all your ex-boyfriend. 

Wait. Is that – is that what he was now? Is…is that how all of this worked? Fuck! 

You note the lack of tension in his broad shoulders. All things considered, he seemed pretty relaxed. But the real question was…how long could it be expected to last?

Andy picks that moment to turn around, his bright blue eyes locking with your own as an eager grin slowly spreads its way across his handsome features. You take a steadying breath and choose to ignore it. 

“Andrew.” You exhale, trying your best to appear unaffected by his presence. It was a lie, of course. But if you managed to keep this unexpected interaction short and sweet, you just might be able to pull it off. “Wh–what are you doing here?”

“Hi.” He cocks his head to the side as he drinks you in, almost as if he’s amused by your disgruntled demeanor.

“Hello.” You cross your arms over your chest, wishing that you had chosen to wear a different sweater today. Andy loved you in this color, especially because of how it paired with your particular skin tone. 

“Happy Wednesday, baby.” 

God, he really needed to lose that stupid smile. Otherwise, how on earth were you supposed to maintain your composure? 

“Sure.”

“Brought you something.” Andy holds out one of the cups of coffee he’s carrying. “Figured you might be able to use a little pick-me-up.” 

“Thanks, but I’m good.” You tell him with a shake of your head. 

“What? Since when?” He rears back before offering up a playful pout. “We always get coffee together on Wednesdays. It’s our thing…our little afternoon delight.” This time you’re treated to a wink.

“Shh!” You hiss, bridging the distance between your bodies to slap a hand across his mouth. “Don’t say that!” 

The last thing you needed was someone to overhear that and think you two used to sneak away sometimes in the afternoon to…to well…you know. Some of the people you worked with possessed very vivid imaginations.

And besides, that whole afternoon delight business had only happened once or twice. Okay, quite possibly four and a half times – and then one more after that. 

Amusement sparkles in his gaze as he stares you down. And then you feel the faint flick of his tongue brush across your palm. When you don’t react he does it again, this time following it up with an exaggerated groan. 

You immediately jerk your hand away as if you’ve just been burned. Knowing that things were only bound to get worse, you snatch one of the coffees before grabbing his arm and dragging him outside and into the unseasonably warm weather. 

Thank goodness for small favors.

The smell of spring was definitely in the air these days, but all you can focus on is the sound of Andy’s laughter trailing behind you. Frankly, it’s enough to set your teeth on edge. Even still, he allows you to lead him down the street. At some point there’s a slight shift that results in your relinquishing his arm so that he can lace his fingers through yours.   

But you'll allow it if it means that he’ll behave for as long as it takes to make it to your destination. Which just so happens to be an empty bench located at the edge of a nearby park.

To his credit, the attractive buttface at your side doesn’t say anything during your impromptu power walk, but he also doesn’t need to. Because after two long weeks without you, the man was probably venturing into serious touch-starved territory. 

You knew it. And so did he. So part of you didn’t see the harm in giving him this one, small thing.  

Relief fills you when you finally reach the bench. Of course Andy sits first before pulling you down with him – but thankfully not onto his lap. Although you’re positive that the thought was there.

Eventually he lets go of your hand. Unsure of what else to do, you finally take a sip of your coffee. The rich, slightly bitter flavor of chocolate and mocha bursts onto your tongue, followed immediately by a quick hint of cinnamon.

Mm. A perfect cup.

“I’ve missed you, baby girl.” Andy’s large, lightly calloused hand cups your face – the roughened pad of his thumb caressing the curve of your cheek. “It hasn’t been a very fun couple of weeks.”

“I know.” You whisper as you lean into his touch and your eyes flutter closed. Perhaps you were just as starved for affection as he was. “I’m sorry.”

“Did you miss me?” His tone is gruff, but there’s no mistaking the emotion behind his words. Or the pain in his eyes for that matter. 

“I did, Andy.” So much.

“But you still left. Tried to break up with me before hopping on a plane and running off all the way to L.A. to share some chips and queso with good ol’ Rusty.” Your eyes fly open as Andy’s hand drops away. “Or did I read that wrong?” 

How the fuck had he known where you where? You hadn’t included anything about your intended destination in your letter…

“I saw it on your Instagram, in case you were wondering. Was actually able to use that stupid account you set up for me after all.” His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he narrows his gaze, trying to read your expression. “Couldn’t really get much else, although I enjoyed those pics of you at the beach.”

“It was a work trip.” You remind him, suddenly feeling defensive. “And Russell is an old friend, nothing more.”

“Hm.” Andy quirks an annoyed brow. “Are we talking about the kind of friend who also  accompanies you to the beach so you can show off your brand new bikini? Not that I’m complaining any about that gorgeous, sunkissed glow you’ve got going on, princess.” 

His big body is certainly tense, but there’s no ignoring the feral gleam in his eyes. Almost as if he’s dying to undress you and spend the next several hours checking you for tan lines. 

And he would, too. It’s not like it would be the first time. 

“I went alone. Russell stayed behind for that one.” You roll your eyes at the sight of his nostrils flaring. “Jesus Christ, dude! I know you may not believe that I’m a big girl, but I am. And if I wanna go hang out at the beach by myself, then that’s exactly what I’m gonna do!”

Which was exactly what the fuck you’d done. And it had been positively marvelous. 

“Fine.” He grunts, raising his palm towards the heavens. “God forgive me for having the sense to worry about my girl, especially since the last time I checked, she still couldn’t swim for shit.”

“Whatever, Andrew. This girl does whatever the hell she wants now, so you had better get used to it.” Your mouth is set in a thin, firm line while you silently dare him to disagree.

“I’m not quite sure how that’s different from any other day with you, but alright.” Andy tries to calm himself by playing with a stray curl that’s fallen free from your bun. “You’re still mine, sweetness. Even when you insist on being a brat. Or did you somehow forget that part?”

You swat at his hand instead of responding, hating that steady feeling of warmth that was currently pooling in your belly. 

“Did you?”

You make a show of ignoring him in favor of enjoying what was left of your coffee.

“You know, they say that sometimes silence speaks louder than words, baby girl.” You find yourself resisting the urge to clench your thighs together at the sound of the dark chuckle that rumbles through his chest. “It’s alright, though. Guess I’ll just have to remind you again once we get past this little wall you’re trying to put up between us.”

He gifts you with a flash of his pearly white teeth. Andrew Barber was the type of man who would only let you get away with so much before he put his foot down. And you would do well to remember that. 

“Pretty sure you meant to say “actions”, jackass.” Apparently he finds your acerbic wit funny as well.

“Eh, I’ve heard it both ways.” Andy shrugs before going back to toying with your curls. “But I think you should know that I’m not very happy with you, baby. And I’m trying to be patient here, but it’s kinda difficult when I can’t even get you to talk to me.”

“I was going to call you…” That wasn’t a lie. You had just been trying to drum up the mental fortitude you knew it would take to pick up the phone and actually dial his number. Sometimes, dealing with Andrew Barber could require some serious patience. 

“Were you now?” He doesn’t believe you. You can hear it in his voice.

“I was.”

“Okay, then have dinner with me tonight.” He releases your curl, watching the way it bounces as it springs free.

“Andy.” You let out an exhausted sigh.

“Meet me at my place. I’ll swing by Imperial Wok and pick up a few of your favorites so we can eat. And then we can talk in a quiet, private setting without any interruptions. How does that sound, princess?”

“Wonderful.” The word slips out before you can catch it. “But I–I can’t.”

Andrew Barber’s excited smile dies on his lips the moment that phrase reaches his ears and registers in his brain. As much as you hated to admit it, being alone with this man wasn’t a very good idea right now – especially behind closed doors.

Because while you’d never seen the man in court, you’d definitely heard plenty of stories about his ruthlessness. And you knew firsthand just how persistent he could be when he was determined to get his way. 

When Andy wanted something, he didn’t stop until he got it. Not only was he relentless, but he also wasn’t above using every tool at his disposal – including sex – if it meant having you back in his life. It wouldn’t matter all that much to him how it came about.

The same way he wouldn’t care if whether or not your desired reconciliation only happened because he’d lured you into his bed before fucking you back into submission. 

“The fu–why the hell not?” He growls, his hand grips the arm of the wooden bench so hard his knuckles go white.

“Because I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” The pronounced tick in his jaw makes it clear that he’s beyond frustrated by your refusal. 

Unfortunately, that was too damned bad! By the time this was all said and done, your handsome ogre was going to have mastered the art of having some goddamned patience. At least you hoped that would be the case…

“Both.” You offer your Big Man a small apologetic smile as you rise from your seat. “Let’s plan for sometime next week. Maybe we can shoot for Monday. I’ll, uh, send you a text or something and we can find a place to meet. But I really need to get back to work now.”

Andy stares at you for what feels like a full minute as his impressive brain works overtime to figure out his next move. And then he stands up before taking your empty cup and discarding them both in a nearby trash bin.

“Alright.” He mutters with a nod in your direction. “I guess I’ll just have to wait for your message then. Now, let’s get you back to your office.” A lump forms in your throat when he wraps a muscled arm around your shoulders as you two begin walking back the way you came. 

Fuck, you really hated this shit. But if this relationship was ever going to have a chance of working, you had to continue standing your ground. Even though it hurt like hell.

“I, um...I know you said that we probably won’t be able to sit down and talk until next week. And I suppose I can understand where you’re coming from with that, but while I have you now…” He lightly coughs into his elbow.

You glance up at your hotshot attorney, trying to figure out where he was going with this so that you could potentially cut him off at the pass.

“I at least wanted to say “thank you” in person for still agreeing to help Lydia with the charity gala this Saturday. I’m sure that it wasn’t an easy decision for you, especially given how things have been between us lately. But I really do appreciate it. And, frankly, I’m sure the kids at St. Augustine’s do too.” 

You feel the blood drain from your face as the reminder of this weekend’s event all-but smacks in the face. “Shit!” You hiss, pulling away from Andy as you reach your building. “It’s this Saturday? Are you sure?”

 “I am.” He confirms, his eyes filled with surprise. “I just spoke with Lydia yesterday when I–”

“Fuck!” You exclaim as your hands fly to your hips, uncaring that you just interrupted whatever it was he was about to say. 

In all of the chaos, you’d completely forgotten that you had agreed to help the wife of one of Andy’s colleagues with her annual charity ball. Starting by arriving at the hotel early Saturday morning to aid in the event setup, before heading up to your room to get ready for the evening's festivities.

A room that had been booked during a time when you and Andy were on much better terms.     

“She did mention that she sent all of the volunteers an email a couple days ago with a list of instructions. Maybe it got buried in your inbox, baby.” He rests his hands on your biceps, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “But she is definitely expecting you and I’m afraid it’s probably too late for you to back out at this point.”

Deep down you knew he was right. And quite honestly, you wouldn’t even dream of doing something like this close to the actual date of the gala. But there was still the issue of having to share a hotel room with your ex.

Closing your eyes, you force yourself to take a deep breath. “I–I wouldn’t do that. I’m not that big of an asshole. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to share a room…” You trail off, hoping that he would at least be somewhat understanding of your current plight.

“Ahh.” You can see the moment when realization finally dawns. “Right. Almost forgot about that.”

No, he actually hadn’t. But since Andy didn’t feel as though there was any real need for you to know that, he was going to keep that particular tidbit to himself. Even he was capable of showing some restraint every now and again.   

“Like I said…” You find yourself anxiously bouncing on your toes. “I don’t think –”

“I get it, sweetheart.” 

Wait. He did? Just like that?

“You do?”

“I do.” His words are accompanied by a lopsided grin. 

He didn’t. But then again, you didn’t need to know that either.

Andy’s hands leave your arms so that he can tenderly cup the sides of your face instead. “You just leave it all to me, baby girl. I’ll call the hotel and change the reservations.”

“You will?” You place your smaller hands overtop of his own. “You…you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” Andy leans down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead. “And I promise to be on my best behavior Saturday night.” He gives you another kiss, which you allow. “If you want, I’ll even send over the updated confirmation info.” 

“Thank you.” You murmur, wishing that you could give-in just a little more and offer up your lips for a kiss. A real one this time. 

But you couldn’t afford to do that. Not even when Mr. Andrew “Give Me A Gold Star For Being Helpful” Barber was acting sweet. That would only throw everything off balance all over again. 

Andy’s heated gaze drops to your mouth before he slowly pulls away. “Don’t work too hard, okay?” His husky voice sends one last tiny flutter through your belly. 

“Same goes for you.” You tell him as you begin to head into the building.

“Goodbye, baby girl.” 

“Goodbye, Andrew. See you Saturday.” 

He waits until you’re safely inside and out of sight before turning on his heel and proceeding in the direction of his car. Oh, you’d be seeing him on Saturday alright. And he would be on his best behavior – depending on just how much patience he could muster. 

You two would be sorting this shit out then, whether you liked it or not. When it was over, you’d both spend the rest of the weekend making up for lost time. And Andrew was going to do everything in his power to ensure you enjoyed every fucking second of it. Just like he planned to enjoy getting reacquainted with that delicate sweetness between those luscious thighs. But first…

He needed to go make a call.

END

*Part Three Coming Soon...*

___

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@blueraspberryreader

@openup-yourmind

#cevansbrat0007 fics #chris evans imagines #andy barber imagines #chris evans smut #andy barber smut #chris evans fanfiction #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans x you #andy barber x you #chris evans x reader #andy barber x reader #chris evans x black!reader #andy barber x black!reader #chris evans x woc!reader #andy barber x woc!reader #chris evans x poc!reader #andy barber x poc!reader #chris evans x girlfriend!reader #andy barber x girlfriend!reader #chris evans x female!reader #andy barber x female!reader #cevansbrat0007growing pains series #chris evans x yn #andy barber x yn #chris evans x y/n #andy barber x y/n #chris evans x fem!reader #andy barber x fem!reader #chris evans angst #andy barber angst

[soraviie]

━ type: jungkook x gn! reader   ━ navigation

━ about: a healthy splash of angst; reader is slightly older than Jungkook (also in denial) and he is a whole forest because there's just so much pine

━ requested by @manavi-meera (?) tumblr deleted your ask when I tried to write in it, all I saw was the gif :/

"Just think about it."

"It's Jungkook!"

"Yeah, it's Jungkook. So think about it."

"Hmm."

It's around when your foot is halfway across the threshold that Yoongi speaks again — just as somber as he'd begun the conversation. If, of course, one's ex-boyfriend turned best friend hurtling a bunch of mistruths and delusions at a completely oblivious and confused party of the other could be construed as a "conversation".

"Oh and ______________?"

You turn around, feeling some form of clammy fear sink its grimy talons around your gut the longer this stifled, awkward bout of silence drags on.

"Yeah?"

"Just...be kind. No matter what you do."

And because for some unknown reason a sudden knot appears at the base of your throat, you can't speak — without rhyme or reason it seems nigh impossible to utter a single word so you nod. Nod and leave Yoongi to sit in his studio alone and with that disconcerting glimmer in his eye. 

Jungkook liking you — one has to laugh! 

“Old man has to be checked for dementia,” you grouse to yourself, the only thing hearing your discontent being the darkness of the emptied hallway. 

The thought! The absolute gall! 

Jungkook liking you…

It’s — it's ridiculous!

But because of one nosey little fucker, the idea has been planted in your head now and like an invasive species of flora, it refuses to leave your gardens alone. 

You try to imagine, you give it an honest, good effort but even now, after all these years what you see before your eyes when thinking of Jungkook are those big, wet eyes. It doesn’t matter how many tattoos and piercings he adorns himself with, how many bikes he drives through the night in the name of the thrill, none of it matters — to you he’s just a gangly kid, always turning his face away so you don’t see the nearly constant state of panic reflected in his features. 

What Yoongi has been smoking you have no idea, frankly you certainly don’t want to try it if it causes this sort of brain damage. 

Jungkook yearning for you. 

Yearning. Just hearing that word bounce back in your skull makes you scoff. Yearning was for torrid love affairs and sentimental romance books; no one in real life yearned. Who could possibly have the time?

Grab your jacket —> go home —> forget this ever happened —> maybe share a demure chuckle or two with Yoongi five years laters, because obviously he’d be embarrassed about being this wrong about something but the plan is fucked. 

It’s fucked because big, brown eyes are staring right back at you, as you round the corner into the wardrobe and more importantly they’re holding your jacket. Well, his hands, not the eyes. Eyes couldn’t hold things. 

“Welcome back,” Jungkook outstretches the jacket towards you, his voice rumbling low in the chest. It’s usually a pleasant hum but because of Yoongi you cannot help but wonder whether it’s a pleased hum as well. “Why didn’t you tell me you're stopping by?”

Had it been just yesterday you would have punched his arm, rolled your eyes and annoyed the ever loving shit out of him, saying he’s not your boyfriend — you don’t owe him to know when and where you’re coming and going but it’s today and suddenly merely touching him feels excruciatingly awkward. 

“Must have slipped my mind,” you mutter, struggling to put the jacket on. A faint wrinkle of discontent worms its way in the space between his eyebrows. Frustration rises and he outstretches himself to help you — out of instinct, out of annoyance? — you're not quite sure, before it never crossed your mind to ponder about it. However, now that you do your legs take an automated step back and Jungkook's hands after a second of lingering contemplatively into the air, half reached out towards you drop back to his thighs — unassuming and still.

"Something wrong?" he asks, inclining his head to the side and why....

...why is it sort of cute?

Cute in a very Jungkook way but not in a usual Jungkook way because usually he was like a little brother you never wanted and...

"__________________?"

...and you're spiralling.

"Yeah?" you blink down on him and the frown on his face deepens.

"You're a bit," jerkily, he waves his fingers around. "Out of it."

"You're like a brother to me, right?"

You didn't mean for it to come out as a question but it is now and it's terrifying. It's terrifying because Yoongi was right. Jungkook's not laughing or scoffing or even acting annoyed or offended by this familiarity. Rather there's this ashen film covering his face and the longer his gaze flits anxiously from one spot to another — anywhere but your own persona — the more you understand.

He'd thrust his heart into your awkward hands and now you're simply horrified to even hold it with more pressure — what if it breaks, what if you hurt it in anyway? It feels more like an injured bird than a heart — any wrong move and you would do something that would weigh down on you for the rest of the remaining days.

It's your turn to call out his name and echoing the same confused, absent-minded state you're in, he hums at the mention of his name, eyes hazy and teeth gnawing on his lip.

"I mean I always thought we're...friends, you know?"

"You're still—"

"I'm not little anymore."

For a second he gains a new sort of resolution - the hazy veil in his eyes is traded for something more steel like and his spine straightens just for a second befoer he collapses into himself, muttering with no small amount of bitterness:

"I'm not a kid, ___________, and you're not that much older than me."

"I know it's just," there is an ill-willing sense of a migraine coming on - you could feel it into the tepid albeit painful tension sitting at the base of your neck. "I guess it's just hard to shake off first impressions, Koo."

He gives an ugly sort of snort — a bit bitter, a bit self-depreciating — and you swear there is a "don't I know it" under his breath, grumbled in a tone that implies it's something of an inside joke with himself.

You wonder what it means.

"I'll walk you home," he suddenly utters, jumping up from the seat. Was he always such a beefcake? Your stare lingers just a touch too long and now that the proverbial scales had been ripped off your eyes you fully grasp how he preens underneath this crumb of attention.

It brings back the awkward feel in your hands — like holding something too small and too precious while walking across a tightrope.

"I didn't ask—"

"Tough shit," he throws over his shoulder, already walking away, pretending to be all cool.

"When did you get so commanding?" you grouse, rushing to keep up with him. It's a bit easier to breathe for now, here in the desolate hallway of HYBE's lower wardrobess, things have for now returned to normal and you revel in that fact though in the back of your mind you know things are soon to change. Conversations will be had and secrets will be spiilled, be it for better or worse. You know it and Jungkook knows it but for now you both pretend it's the same it used to be and bicker to your heart's delight.

"Spank me then."

"Fucking perv."

"Who do you think I learned it from?"

"From Namjoon's truly godless porn sites."

"I'm a good boy, I would never."

"Wipe that sly grin off your face and maybe I'll believe you."

send in a picture of the boys and I’ll write a scenario

#why did this turn out so messy lmaaaoooo #yoongi being the ex boyfriend whose aware of Jungkook's feelings #reader being awkward and scared #and older than Jungkook #and him pining for reader but clearly being insecure about the age thing and how being viewed as a kidd #this is some telenovela shit (T_T) #anyway I'm back baby #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts drabble #jungkook drabbles #file/picture series/jungkook

[bloompompom]

⟢ always the quiet ones

eren mistakenly took his new lab partner for being quiet, only to discover she was so much more than that. college au, mutual pining, casual sex, porn with feelings. word count: ~13.2k

⟢ birthday boy

you hook up with eren on his birthday, ensuring it's a night he never forgets. modern au, friends to lovers, casual sex, porn without plot. word count: ~2.3k

⟢ cold, cold, cold

for always acting so cold toward one another, it really didn't take much for things to heat up... modern au, haters to hate-fuckers, rough sex. word count: ~5.8k

⟢ count to ten

you give your husband a polaroid camera, granting him exactly ten opportunities to take whatever pictures he wants of you. domestic au, established relationship, consenting sexy photos. word count: ~4k

⟢ drive-in distraction

tonight's horror movie double-feature won't be the only thing that has you wanting to scream. domestic au, established relationship, public sex, quiet sex. word count: ~5.6k

⟢ extra benefits

in which you treat eren to some of the other benefits of your arrangement, and he gladly returns the favor. modern au, friends with benefits, casual sex. word count: ~5.3k

⟢ guily pleasures

after a fight with your shitty boyfriend, eren thinks of a not-so-creative loophole to help show you what you truly deserve. modern au, infidelity, mutual masturbation. word count: ~4.2k

⟢ a little joy

your pregnancy comes as a surprise, but the even bigger surprise comes when you tell your husband on christmas, twelve days later. domestic au, established relationship, some angst but mainly fluff, smut with feelings. word count: ~6.4k

⟢ the opposite of star-crossed

you had been best friends with eren for the last five years. surely, if there were something between you, you would have known by now. right? college au, best friends to lovers, idiots in love, porn with feelings. word count: ~5.6k

⟢ playthings

it wasn’t your fault that you accidentally walked into the wrong room, and you’d only take some of the blame after you shamelessly came crawling back for more. college au, strangers to lovers, casual sex, porn without plot. word count: ~6.8k

⟢ rebounding

“don’t you want to give it a try? i mean, haven’t you ever thought about it?” roommate au, complicated feelings, rough sex, porn with minimal plot. word count: ~10.5k

⟢ room for dessert

in which you help your boyfriend discover he may or may not have a thing for getting you pregnant. domestic au, established relationship, breeding kink, semi-public masturbation, temperature and food play. word count: ~3.1k

⟢ tits for tat

I hope you have a good idea about how you’re going to pay for that tattoo… tattoo artist!eren, semi-public sex, rough sex, content some readers may find dark. word count: ~6.7k

⟢ trouble

star player of the paradis devils has been trying to impress his favorite ice girl for months but she's strictly off-limits—and she knows it, too. hockeyplayer!eren/icecrew!reader au, casual sex. word count: ~1.8k

⟢ vengeful hearts club

you find out your boyfriend has been cheating on you days before valentine's day, and what better way to exact your revenge than to sleep with his best friend. modern au, infidelity, consensual filming, porn with minimal plot. word count: ~2.7k

⟢ wake up slow

after a steamy dream, you seek out your boyfriend for some sleepy sex on a lazy, rainy morning. domestic au, established relationship, morning sex, porn with feelings. word count: ~3.2k

⟢ your boyfriend eren

narrative-style headcanons about boyfriend!eren. domestic au, established relationship, rough sex, some possessive behavior. word count: ~3k

#eren x reader #eren one shots #masterlist #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #nav #bloomy's one shots

[factorialsotherfandoms]

As suggested by @becauseplot, xcomau sparring with Codebreakers! (I'll save egg times for later and have some planned out but may swap eggs before I get there). I... apologise for the invading Fit?

Hidden... not quite injury? There's some angst in here. It was supposed to be fun. Well I had fun. Also some non-graphic nudity and a distinctly unsexy shower scene. It is a bit homoerotic though. Welcome to qsmp.

"Phil. Phil. Phil. Phil."

"Etoiles, I said no!" Philza half-laughs with the words, used to this nonsense from everyone; at least from Etoiles it is genuine respect, not simply a dare.

"But Pomme! You love Pomme. I love Pomme. She wants to see you fight me, yes?"

Philza looks over to Pomme, who honestly looks like she could not care less as she shows off her new shoes to her siblings. He is about to say as much, before his eyes catch on Chayanne. His son has wonder and excitement in his eyes, quickly blinked away as he turns back to also compliment her outfit.

"That's a low blow," Philza half teases, already walking over to the rack of training weapons. "Using your daughter like that."

"So you will fight me? Properly? With swords."

"/Training/ swords," he forces. "I haven't touched a blade in years, you ain't getting me close to something sharp."

Etoiles brightens like the stars he is named after, running over to pick one for himself. Philza looks them over, trying to remember how to pick one even as the excitement of his son bubbles in his mind. If Chayanne has managed to infect the other children with the idea... God, they're going to have a fucking audience, aren't they?

Sure enough, by the time that Philza has warmed up, a not so small crowd has gathered in the gym. The kids are sat on the floor at the edge of the mats, while at least half of the adults are either sat on the benches, or standing around behind them.

Pac, Mike, and Tubbo are very obviously running bets, scampering around with a set of notebooks. Fit... seems to be wrangling them, except that he glances over to Philza with a grim - concerned - expression on his face.

Everyone else looks excited, and the weight of expectation is as it is; Philza makes a small gesture for him to back down. Fit catches it, and returns to herding cats with a solemn nod.

Nobody else seems to catch the interaction at least. Philza really, really does not want to make a show of it, but now a show is here...

He rolls his shoulders. Despite the careful stretches his back smarts. He swears, pretends he stubbed his toe on the corner of the mat, and prepares.

Etoiles is of course ready. Etoiles is a great many things more than a swordsman, but he is always ready, even when he is bouncing slightly in anticipation.

They do not need words to communicate, just eye contact and a nod. The crowd chatters as they circle each other. Philza has not fought a human since... some guards, back when guards were still human. Fit, once or twice. Techno...

Etoiles thinks he sees an opening, darting in. Philza parries, ducks to the side, and the fight truly begins. Once Philza was a god of the battlefield, now time and injury leave an abyss in their wake.

He is not, however, as stupid ass to fall for the tricks.

Etoules is honourable, straight forward, and fights friends only to help them keep themselves safe.

Philza is treason, and deception, and has always fought to rip the world back into shape by the skin of his fucking teeth.

They don't realise that, here, just how dark he can be - he hung up his sword for good reason, and he does not want to be that fucker again.

He doesn't want to be, but it was also always him.

Etoiles comes close. Philza twists, moving as though to raise his sword and instead kicking the other man in the ribs. He does not hold back - five years ago he would have broken ribs with that kick, but he knows he skips gym these days.

Still, Etoiles stumbles back a few paces, grinning as he does, "good kick! Good kick!" He calls, "I told you, you're the best!"

"The only best here is you," Philza calls back, watching close as Etoiles uses the banter to come close. "Etoiles, the goat."

Philza darts forwards this time. Instinctively, his wings move to assist. With difficulty, he holds his mangled musculature in place.

"This? This is just me hitting silly sticks," Etoiles calls as they clash their weapons together. "You're the real goat! You see everything!"

Philza does not fucking see everything, but he forces his grin into a smile and keeps up a relentless attack. Every strike he tries, Etoiles blocks. Every block he makes, Etoiles gets a little closer.

Sloppy. He has gotten sloppy with time.

Lost in the fight and the play and the laughter, Philza darts in again. This time Etoiles kicks him. Philza stumbles back, seeking his footing again.

He flares his wings.

He falls

He *screams*.

He tries to convince himself it is a shriek of rage, but he sees Fit stand, feels Chayanne and Tallulah's worry, hears the murmur of the crowd. By rules of the fight he has lost, sprawled on the floor as he is.

By the rules of the fight...

"Phil?" Etoiles immediately softens, stepping close and lowering his blade.

Philza has two choices: admit his weakness, or pretend it is a fucking game.

He keeps his wings entirely still as grabs Etoiles' wrist, pulling himself up and twisting it sharply - not enough to break it, but nearly.

The sword falls to the floor. Without thinking Philza grabs it, pushes Etoiles to the floor, holds it to his neck.

He is breathing hard, body straining under the position.

Etoiles looks at him not with fear, but concerning his eyes.

"Ça va?"

It's barely a whisper. Philza...

Philza drops the sword to the side, rolling off Etoiles' stomach and fighting the fucking pain to find his breath.

"You won the fight," Philza says. "But our enemy is a fucking shit. Don't let your guard down. Even when they're dead they might fuck you up."

Etoiles nods, eyes calculating.

Behind them, Fit whispers something to Pac, who nudges Mike and Tubbo. Between the three they stir the crowd into arguments over the betting.

"Good fight," Philza offers Etoiles.

"Good fight, good fight!" Etoiles agrees. "Next time, you will win properly."

Philza laughs, "I doubt it, mate; I'm out of practice."

"Then practice with me!" Etoiles offers. "At least help me train the kids! Chayanne would love to have you there."

"Etoiles," Philza does not have he fucking oxygen to laugh. "Don't give him ideas. I'm gonna get a shower, you coming?"

He doubts that anyone else could see the strain in Etoiles' smile as he waves him off, mentioning something about a bet with Antoine. Philza leaves it be, ducks around the now excitable crowd, and vanishes himself into the shower.

Under the water - hot, thank Tubbo - his muscles sting. His arms and his legs and his chest, all fine, but his back - his wings - where he cannot reach...

It is not just a sting, not really.

He grits his teeth through the shower gel, and rinsing it off. Cleaning his back without getting soap on his feathers is a nightmare, but one he's lived with his whole life.

But once the cleaning is done...

He rests his head against the tiles, eyes shut, and tries to remember how it feels to breathe.

The water is hot, and the tile is cool, and the agony begins to cool.

Nearly ready to face the world, there is a knock on the wall besides the shower curtain. Startled Philza turns, relaxing only as he sees the familiar form of Fit shadowed on the fabric.

"Hey Fit," he calls. "I was just finishing up."

"Yeah?" Fit replies. "And what was all that about then?"

"I'm fine."

"Philza. I've known you since you were twenty one and stupid. You're not fine."

Fit already knows - Fit was there - and Philza does not have the energy to argue.

"Come in, then, if you really want to see me naked."

"I always do, big boy," Fit responds.

The shower curtain shifts, and then falls back into place. Fit, also naked, prosthetic removed, joins Philza in the shower.

His eyes, immediately, fall on Philza's back.

"What did you break?" Fit asks.

Philza laughs in reply.

"Can I touch?"

"Go ahead, I can't stop you."

"Don't you know it."

Fit presses in close, and places his hand on his back. Gently at first he traces over smarting skin, and then combs his fingers through feathers as he checks.

"I think I just strained it is all," Philza replies. "I'll be fine in the morning."

Fit keeps working; Philza hasn't been fine in a very, very long time.

From gentle, assessing touches, Fit moves on to massaging across Philza's shoulder, and down his spine. Philza has no doubt the man will drag Missa into a joint preening session later, but for now...

"Etoiles is worried, you know?" Fit says. "He knows something is up. Most of them do."

"So long as they keep it to weird looks not questions, I don't fucking care," Philza replies. "I can fight fine with a gun and Crow, I don't need this."

Fit runs two fingers across the mangled tops of Philza's wings, the bones twisted where they healed out of shape, but in such a way it just looks like he was born with them malformed. It's normal, for an Avian, for their wings to be fucked up. Why wouldn't Philza's be the same?

He misses the sky. Fuck, he misses the sky so goddamned much.

The fingers press into an especially sore spot. For a moment Philza is blinded by the memory of much crueller hands, of something purple and something sadistic.

He gasps, and it is gone, just him and Fit in the shower again.

"Do you need some of my painkillers?" Fit asks, quiet despite his voice, almost hidden in the noise of the shower.

"I'll be fine. Just need to let it rest," Philza replies. "I should get to my shift. It's probably time, right?"

Fit hesitates, but hums an agreement. Philza has no doubt that some will appear at some point, probably on his tray with lunch. Still, if neither asks, neither tells.

"You should tell him," Fit says. "Etoiles. If you're going to keep fighting together, he needs to know."

Philza winced as his back tensed, "later. I'll do it later."

"Phil."

"What? Are you going to tell Pac about-"

Fit slams a hand over Philza's mouth.

"That's different!"

Philza licks him. Fit pulls away; Philza wins, and turns so they're face to face.

"I've got work. Will be seeing you. Want me to send Pac over?"

"Phil!"

Philza doesn't care for the mock offence. He laughs as he ducks around Fit. The showers are empty, except for the two of them - suspiciously empty. He can hear Fit follow him out of the shower, but ignores him as he dresses.

They don't ignore each other - not exactly. Fit helps Philza tie his shit behind his neck, back still too sore to reach up himself, and they brush arms when the vulnerability has them loose themselves in fear for a second or three. Still, they say nothing more - what else needs to be said?

Outside the door, Etoiles waits. Philza is a little surprised to see his kids are not, but maybe Missa woke up already.

Etoules watches him, but does not say much. Its uncharacteristic how quiet he is - or maybe not, as he analyses.

Philza greets him, and walks past.

As he walks away he feels assessing eyes on his ugly, scarred back.

#qsmp x xcom #qsmp au #qsmp philza #qsmp etoiles #qsmp fit #codebreakers #qsmp codebreakers #qsmp veterans #implied fitza #implied fitpac #God what is tagging this #Idk #Have this! #In theory I'm saving the others for another day but we'll see if I succeed #qsmp fanfic

[akashigadabi]

There’ll Be Hell To Pay

Pairing: Yandere All For One x Consenting Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: After Reader comes home in tears with a visible bruise on their cheek, All For One comforts them and promises to “take care” of the offender.

Word Count: 3230

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Yandere, Homicidal energy/rage/urges (not directed at Reader), Consensual Relationship, Ambiguous Morality/Moral Ambiguity (Reader), various mentions of murder and bloodlust, implied/referenced past non-con/sa, implied/referenced sh + sa, anxiety/panic attack (hinted at, averted), implied/referenced ptsd/trauma

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Humor

Style: Present Tense, POV 2nd Person

*Note that Reader isn’t explicitly stated as one sex/gender or race/ethnicity—Tumblr just has a shitty gif selection tool on mobile and I couldn’t find any others that fit this scenario after looking for half an hour.

“Who did this to you?”

The cold undertone lining the softly spoken words sends a shiver down your spine. All For One sounds three seconds away from committing a homicide. The dangerous edge to his voice promises death to anyone involved, and not a swift one. The perpetrator or perpetrators would suffer by his hand, their deaths as slow and painful as he could manage. The darkest part of you relished in that knowledge, even as you stood there crying in near-silence.

Gods weep, you feel weak.

You couldn’t look at him. An All For One incandescent with rage truly offers a terrifying sight to behold. An eldritch abomination apoplectic with an unholy rage that made you tremble in its presence, though not out of fear. You know deep in your bones that this man, one dangerous as they come, would never hurt you. Boogeyman of the underworld and its undisputed king or not, he would never dream of laying a hand on you. Adrenaline coursing through your veins like poison causes half the pathetic shivering you can’t force to abate no matter how much you call yourself a weakling for the show of vulnerability in your head.

Yet you could not look at him, at your fearsome husband, eyes averted toward a rather hideous, if disgustingly expensive, painting on the spotless cream wall. Tears stream from swollen, reddened eyes. It shouldn’t rattle you nearly as much as it does, but somehow you can’t stop thinking about the catcaller bold enough to grab you, bold enough to strike you, even if you stuck back at him twice as hard because you learned early on the hard way that if you don’t have enough of a backbone to stand up for yourself, people will walk all over you. That would never happen again, not as long as you live. Even All For One would not raise a hand against you (unless you ask, of course), though that comes from his affection for you rather than any sort of fear of the reprisal you might intact in return.

That being said, some strange man was most certainly not allowed to hit you, let alone have physical contact with you in any other way. Before today, no one who knows who you really are, who knows the identity of your husband, would have the sheer audacity to touch you. That vile man you’d encountered earlier clearly has no idea who he’d harassed, not that he should be harassing anyone. Either that, or he has some bizarre sort of Death Wish™ and/or has lost the desire to live.

Who in their right mind would dare to grope, grab, or slap the loved one of someone so inclined toward homicide as a solution to nearly all their problems? Part of you wants to kill such a loathsome piece of shit yourself, though a larger part feels too shaken by the assault—for it had involved an assault, since the man hit you when you objected to being catcalled and groped on the way home—to do more than cry now that you feel safe enough to fully process those earlier events.

You feel so violated even though nothing worse happened to you. You’d decked the fucker hard enough to loosen one of his teeth, to make him bleed, and that had broken his hold long enough for you to haul ass back to your primary house, half afraid he might try to pursue you. Despite that victory, despite the safety of your environment, and despite a clear proximity to your mate, your heart still gallops along with all the finesse of a jackhammer. Blood continues to rush in your ears and the metallic tang in your mouth has yet to leave your tongue. Your breath stutters as if on the verge of hyperventilating, and your body remains so keyed up in all the worst ways that you flinch when your lover reaches out to caress your cheek with all the tenderness of someone handling a delicate treasure.

“My heart,” the self-proclaimed Demon King whispers, a note of devastation and barely restrained fury thrumming through every syllable. “Tell me who did this to you. Who dared to leave a bruise on you? Hmm? Tell me so I can take care of it.”

You want to tell him, you do, however, you can’t. Not at the moment. Not with your throat clogged by your emotions. The encounter opened an old wound, awakening a trauma you thought you left behind years ago. It gums up your lips so you can scarcely part them. A fresh wave of tears falls even as you lean into the gentle brush of knuckle against flesh still throbbing from impact. You sniffle, then, reaching out to anchor yourself in reality, in his comforting presence, lest your treacherous mind tries to drag you into some of your more unpleasant memories. A whimper somehow manages to escape your otherwise uncooperative mouth.

All For One, someone who should arguably not serve as a source of reassurance for anyone, draws you into his embrace. Instead of steel bars blocking out your means of escape, his strong arms instead offer a means of support and security. You allow him to bring you to his chest, until you’re leaning fully into him, uninjured cheek pressing firmly to his broad, muscular chest. Either all that murder keeps him fit, or he works out on a regular basis outside of your exercise routine together. Man’s jacked, and you love it, though it’s harder to appreciate it when you’re in such a frazzled state that you’ve gone nonverbal.

Signing isn’t even a real option at the moment with your fingers curled into his suave dress shirt like claws. The only option at hand comes from your bond, and you’ve been closing that off as much as possible to avoid the ugly truth filtering through. You’re just too overwhelmed to deal with more than clinging to your supervillain husband as you cry into his nice button-up, woven using some fancy ass fabric blend. He wears it with you in mind, since you have sensitive skin. He doesn’t want it to hurt you on the odd day you decide to put it on yourself, or during your clothed cuddle sessions when you rub your face against his chest.

One of his hands—as large as your head, because All For One really is such a large man—cups the back of your head. His long, elegant fingers tickle the skin of your neck, with his index finger curled at your nape and his pinky flirting with your spine. This close to his skin, his scent hits you full-on in the face even through his clothes. He refrains from wearing any cologne that might trigger respiratory issues in you, so the sinful way he smells is all natural, which makes it all the more attractive.

You close your eyes to soak it in as you allow him to fuss over you, using one of his Quirks to scan you for further damage. You sense it sweeping through you, stroking every cell with the care of a devoted lover. The man hums as he presses a kiss to the crown of your skull, his nose lingering amongst your hair as he inhales your scent in turn. You’re both sensual people, each equally guilty of indulging in satisfying the instinctive primal urge to fully submerge your senses in the other’s presence.

Vibrations rumble through his chest beneath your ear when he addresses you again. It soothes something in you to feel them buzzing against your ear, complimenting the flutter of his own heart. It beats at a rate that informs you he’s agitated, though not with you so much as over your current state. You arrived home visibly distraught and evidently sporting an already darkening bruise on your face. You could think of few things that would quicken him into righteous fury faster than a single hair on your head coming to harm. He would kill for you in an instant. All you had to do was direct his ire toward the appropriate target and he’d be more than happy to lay the corpse of that unfortunate soul at your feet.

All For One wraps his other arm around your waist. He uses it to rub your lower back while activating a catlike Quirk to purr in a further attempt to calm you down enough to communicate with him. His body heat radiates into the bubble of space around you. The air itself crackles with tension, permeated by the scent of ozone. A far away rumble of thunder booms in the distance. You wonder if it’s pure chance, or if he has a Quirk that affects the weather. His stormy mood surely isn’t helping if he does. He may be doing his damndest to alleviate your stress, but his own still shows.

“I can’t help make it better unless you work with me, little love,” All For One croons in his silkiest attempt at coaxing you for information yet. “Please help me understand.”

The earnest yearning to make it right—though the phrasing holds a different connotation for someone like him—finally breaks your resolve. You manage to pull yourself together enough to make your thoughts coherent, even if aural speech still escapes you. One last sniff precedes you opening up the mental channel of communication between you two, something only possible due to your Quirk. It had started as an Empathy Quirk that the two of you strengthened through him taking a copy of it so you could experiment with its applications together. With you each possessing the Quirk, you discovered you could both use it to communicate through touch.

A flood of images, sounds, and emotions cascades through the bond between you. You try to keep it short and sweet, though he seems more interested in replaying the memory a second and third time to memorize the face of the attacker. Since he didn’t experience it in person, he doesn’t have a sense of your attacker’s Quirk, so he has to rely on his appearance alone. No doubt he’ll order one of his people to snag the footage from any nearby cameras so he can hunt down his prey. A phantom whiff of blood blooms in your nostrils, a product of the thick cloud of bloodlust exuded from his every pore. The man in your memory is already as good as dead. All For One has laid eyes on him. There’s nowhere in Japan—or on earth—that he can run or hide.

All For One exhales before angling his face downward to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. Tension lines his form, even as he holds you close, not letting the indignation of such an act disturb the comfort he wishes to offer you. Despite that, leashed wrath bubbling on a slow simmer boils in his blood. You can taste it as vividly as a strong wine. It bathes your tongue, sharp and sweet. It evokes a heady sensation in you, making your head spin as if you’ve imbibed far too much champagne for one night. You feel light and protected in his arms, witnessing his wrath in quiet awe like an astronomer watching the birth of a new star so bright you can’t view it head-on for fear of being blinded.

“Thank you.”

Palpable relief coats the entire sentence. Relief that he now knows the source of your distress. Relief that he can eliminate that source. Relief that you weren’t further harmed by that stranger. Relief that you stand safely in his grasp. The emotion slithers down the bond, bleeds through his skin, wraps you in a warm cocoon that soothes rather than smothers. Like a weighted blanket swaddling you in soft pressure. Steady in its firm hold without crushing you under its bulk.

You nod even as you offer a low hum of agreement. All For One grounds you, his crisp energy helping to clear your mind as the minutes tick by. He doesn’t rush you despite the itch to kill suffusing his being. The thirst to spill the blood of the one who dared to lay a finger on you ripples under the surface of the tranquility and security he pushes toward you in waves. It reassures you in its own way. Reprisal would come swift and sure for your errant catcaller turned assailant. The same man could not—would not—hurt or harass you again.

Your breathing finally evens out as you slump against him, boneless and suddenly exhausted. As if sensing the shift in your demeanor, All For One scoops you into his arms, literally sweeping you off your feet into a bridal carry. One smooth transition later sees him carrying you to your shared bedroom with ease, muscles rippling under the fabric of his expensive suit. He continues past the bed to the master bath, where he undresses you with loving care. He closes the toilet lid and sets you onto it long enough to undress you both, then helps you shower. You could do it yourself (even if you’d need to spend the better part of half an hour just standing under the stream staring numbly at the wall until you could collect yourself), but you allow him this indulgence. It smooths out your frayed nerves as much as it satiates something else in him.

Ten minutes later, he dries off both of you, taking the time to gently pat the water droplets off of your skin, then carries you back to the bed. He leaves your side only long enough to retrieve a gown for you. Silk glides against your skin as he redresses you, leaving goosebumps in its wake, yet it’s not sexual. Not right now. Not when he touches the unhurt side of your face as if the slightest bit of pressure would bruise it too. With your sensitive skin, it probably could if done in just the right way. Under normal circumstances, such ginger contact would seem overly cautious. Now, knowing he’s taking extra care not to worsen your physical or mental condition after an attack, it feeds something in you. You can take care of yourself, and you don’t rely on him to intimidate every shadow and strong gust of wind, but gods does it feel good to be taken care of like this.

‘Love you,’ you sign, at last not feeling like as much of a wreck. You pulse a strong burst of affection through the bond as you look up at him, using the skin contact to send the image of a kiss. All For One grins, teeth flashing in one of his trademark smirks. The supervillain wears the expression of the cat that got the canary.

“I know,” he replies out loud, to which you roll your eyes in fond exasperation. Smug prick. Equally fond chuckles tumble from his mouth as he withdraws his touch to sign his response. Between the two of you, you have signed speech, aural speech, your bond, and, perhaps hilariously, Morse code as avenues of communication. You two learned together to leave no stone unturned. Besides providing ample means for you to express yourself during one of your nonverbal episodes, multiple communication alternatives raises the chance no one could eavesdrop on your conversations or catch on to you sending each other messages, whether it be agents of the government, one of those pesky vigilantes that opposed him, or a rival villain.

‘Love you too.’

You huff yet say nothing further as he tucks you into bed. At first you’re not sure if he intends to join you now or immediately storm off to capture then maim or torture the current #1 Unlucky Asshole of Japan. Because of course he wouldn’t let the man die easily. He’d probably have him screaming for a few hours until the schmuck could spit up blood.

Pleasant surprise curls in your chest when he climbs in with you. He tugs you to his chest again, still naked as he spoons you. His fingertips brush your cheek again. This time, healing energy floods the smarting tissue until only echoes of remembered pain remain. All For One buries his face into your neck again, trailing kisses along the exposed skin. He drops one last one to the underside of your ear, hips flush to yours. However, his cock remains soft, or at least doesn’t get hard enough to do anything with it. He holds you to him with one hand splayed across your belly, arm hooked around your waist again. His knees knock into the back of your thighs, and his feet slide against yours.

“Sleep, my dear one. He won’t be able to put his disgusting hands on you ever again.”

You believe him. After all, he’s All For One, and if he wants someone dead, they’re dead. It might horrify someone else, but not you. To you it feels like an overt declaration of his love. A sacred vow. A display of his undying devotion. A gift from a doting husband to his beloved wife.

No one could stand against you because he’d cut them down himself—whether you could do it through your own power or not. Your enemies are his enemies, just as his are yours. A slight against you is a slight All For One can’t let stand. Some fool deigned to touch you, and worse, had done so without your permission, therefore committing the highest offenses he possibly could, as if he had determined he should do everything he could to spit in All For One’s face.

The man’s many interconnected sins signed his own death warrant. All For One is always merciless to his enemies as well as anyone who represents a threat to you. Any man who even breathes too aggressively in your direction counts as one, and this man decided to commit greater sins than that. The brazen bastard hit you after leering at you, catcalling you, grabbing you, and groping you. Most damning of all, your Quirk allowed All For One to witness it himself in real time high definition once you ran into the villain’s arms distraught and seeking sanctuary.

If ever All For One could possess an ounce of mercy, today would not be that day. Not where it concerns your well-being. He’s yours, and you’re his. No one possesses the privilege to hurt someone who’s his.

Someone out on the street now has hell to pay tomorrow. A dead man walking, for All For One would personally see to that man’s demise. That fucker hurt you, so he had to die. Simple, really.

All For One only provides so many chances for people. Chances this stranger managed to blow in one fell swoop. You don’t pity that stranger. You still feel a little gross deep down inside of yourself, even with your ferocious supervillain husband cuddling you.

You force yourself to relax enough to do as All For One asks. You know when you wake, he’ll be on the warpath. Right now, however, he seems almost peaceful as he projects his adoration for you at your person. Streaks of unfettered bloodlust still color the positive emotions he layers around you. Knowledge of its source puts you at ease. You drift off to sleep knowing deep in your heart that you’re the safest person/spouse in the world.

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