#Gotta stay on the grind regardless of the news... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jeongvision · 3 years

Note

🗣 TEACHER!AU WITH JOHNNY

PART TWO! LET’S GET IT!

pairing. history teacher! seo johnny ✗ english teacher! fem! reader (ft. english teacher! mark lee)

genre. fluff, slight humor, high school teacher au, non idol au

warnings. some cursing and super soft hours after this huhu <3 and not proofread but we can discuss that later

author’s note. this is an continuation to this blurb! this could be read as a standalone but regardless i hope this brought a smile to your face bc it certainly did for me <3

You should’ve seen it coming. Damn it, it was right in front of you all along, so why didn’t you see it in the first place?

You and your students have been grinding nonstop for the past couple weeks to prep them for the AP English IV exam. There was a time where you requested two days off from work for emergency purposes (thankfully it was nothing too major) leaving you to ask your coworker- Mark, another teacher in your department -to help fill in your students on materials needed for the exam.

Everything was perfectly fine when you came back, your coworker going beyond your expectations in taking care of your students. However, one thing you failed to take notice of is the recent changes the college board made in their AP exams, including the course you teach. After reviewing some of the revisions they made, you felt your heart drop.

They’ve added three additional sections to the exam, meaning an additional two weeks is needed to cover the materials for your students to grasp some sort of mastery on those concepts.

You have four weeks left until the exam, and you’re already compacted those remaining weeks with other necessary materials for the exam.

“Fucking hell,” you murmured under your breath.

Running your hand through your hair, you let out a tired sigh. It’s already bad enough that you have to work overtime in making revisions to your lesson plans. However, it’s worse to see the crestfallen looks on your students’ faces when you dropped the news on them. They’re already tired enough from dealing with other classes and extracurricular activities. On top of that, you know most of them are stressing about their acceptance letters from their colleges.

You dropped the pen in your hand and rubbed both of your eyelids. Relax, y/n you told yourself. Don’t worry, you can do this. You heard the door behind you open, meaning someone walked inside the teacher’s lounge.

“Hey, y/n. What’s up- Woah, woah, WOAH! What do we have here?” the person exclaimed. You let out a chortle. You could distinctively point that voice out from anywhere, and you’re sure as hell that the state of your workspace is nothing short of hell. Taking your hands away from your face, you crossed your arms and leaned back a little in your seat to look up at the latter.

“Well, hello to you too, Mark,” you chuckled. You both gave each a fist bump before he sits down in the empty chair beside you.

“What the hell happened here?” He grabs some of the documents splayed out before you, eyes scanning through the materials that you’ve scribbled on in the past hour. “Wait, what? They added new things to the AP exam?”

You sighed and nodded dejectedly. “Yep. And somehow, I gotta squeeze all those materials into my lesson plans before they take it next month.” You rested your arms on the table and rested your head on top of them. “At this point, I just want to light myself on fire and call it a day.”

Mark lets out a cackle besides you, prompting you to smile. You’ll never mention it to him, but his laughs and smiles are always infectious. It’s what makes him so well-known and loved in the English department in the first place, both faculties and students.

“Please don’t do that. We love you too much to let you do that to yourself,” he responded.

Sitting back up in your seat, you take a glance at the clock. Just four minutes before the section ends and you have to go back to teaching your classes again. You heard your coworker clear his throat, bringing you to face him.

“Do you need help with any of this?” he offered.

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine, Mark. I appreciate the offer but I don’t want to bother you with my workload.”

“No, really. It’s fine, y/n. I only teach honors and they’re all pretty ahead in their assignments, so I have some free time if you’d like.”

Just like that, you swear you could see a halo shining above his figure, your world much brighter and clearer than it was this morning. “Oh my god, yes please.” You shifted through your papers, searching the remnants of the piles before handing it over to him. “Can you please go through these and grade them for me? Here are the answer keys for them.” After debriefing him for that stack of papers, you gave him another one. “And for these, can you make some copies for me? I need them tonight so I can plan for tomorrow’s class.”

He listened attentively to your commands, taking a mental note and nodding each instruction given to him. “Okay, got it, y/n. I’ll get these done and hand them over by the end of the day.”

You’re gawking at him, surprised that your coworker is willing to lend you a helping hand. You could honestly cry out tears of joy right now, but timing refuses to let you do so as the bell rings, marking the end of a period. You both stood up in your seats and grabbed the papers on the table into a neat pile. You let out a content sigh as you both walked out the teacher’s lounge.

“Thank you so much, Mark. You’re the best,” you exhaled. Outside your classroom, you already see some students entering inside as you left it unlocked, free for them or your coworkers to enter as they pleased. You both stood next to its entrance before he shrugs his shoulders at you.

“Hey, I mean it’s what I do best, right? Being the best.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful shove, earning a laugh from him. Saying goodbyes to one another, you walked inside your classroom. You nodded to the students present. “Afternoon, class,” you greeted.

“Good afternoon, Miss y/n!”

“Miss Y/n, there’s a bouquet of flowers on your desk,” one of your students called out. You raised an eyebrow. Flowers? Looking over to your desk, your student was certainly not lying and neither are your eyes. Perched in the middle of your desk lies a vase filled with varying colors of tulips. Petals are in full bloom and the stems are clipped uniformly. You walked over and saw a notecard attached to one of the flowers.

“Who is it from, Miss Y/n?”

“Yeah! Who got you flowers?”

You looked up and realized more of your students are present, capacity almost at its max. Class was starting soon so more and more are rushing in to see the surprise gift settled on your desk.

“Is it Mr. Kim in the science department? I saw you two walking together in the hallways last week.”

That assumption piqued your interest. “Wait, Mr. Kim? The physics teacher?” you asked. The student, Krystal, nodded, causing you to huff incredulously. “Krystal, please. We’re merely just friends.”

Another student chimes in. “Friends don’t lock arms with each other at work.”

“Jongin, please. Your last girlfriend only stayed with you for a month and she started dating an upperclassman a week later.”

“Hey—”

“Guys, calm down,” you interjected. “As much as I love you crazy bunch, I am still your teacher. Therefore, what occurs in my personal life stays private, and how much I am willing to share with you all lies in my discretion.” But unbeknownst to you, one of your students sneaks behind you to get a glance of the card, discreetly reading the contents:

‘The best deserves nothing less than the best.

Yours truly.’

The student, Luna, almost lets out a squeal. “Guys! Guys!” You jumped in shock, startled by her sudden presence and her high-pitched voice. “I think it’s Mr. Lee! The other English teacher!”

All attention is now on her, excitement filled in the air.

“Mr. Lee? The one that teaches honors?”

“The one with boba eyes?”

“The one that laughs at everything?”

Luna nods to each question, visibly thrilled with the subtle jump in her steps as she walked towards her classmates. “Yes! I heard Miss y/n calling him the best earlier and Mr. Lee joked about being the best! And in the card, it said ‘the best deserves nothing less than the best’.” The bell rang, marking the beginning of the period, but that didn’t stop your students from chattering with happiness, faces completely wiped from fatigue and stress of the upcoming exams. Some students entered your classroom late to the discussion, prompting other students to fill them in only to also be electrified by the ‘news’.

You run a hand through your hair again and sighed. Not this again, you thought to yourself. But just before you could jump in to stop all this chaos, you heard someone knock on your open door, diverting your attention and your class’ to the intruder.

“Well, good afternoon, class,” the person chuckled. “Why’s it so boisterous here? Did I miss a party or something?”

Of course, what better person to appear now of all times? It was none other than the infamous history teacher, Johnny Seo. You rolled your eyes before laughing. Coincidence, my ass.

“Mr. Seo! Someone gave Miss Y/n a bouquet of tulips! She has a secret admirer!” Luna stated.

He raised an eyebrow at her direction. “Oh, does she now?” He looks back at you with a grin. “Did Miss Y/n find out who this secret admirer is?”

“We think it’s Mr. Lee from honors English.”

“And what makes you think so?”

“Because we heard her call him the best earlier before class started, and the notecard called her the best.”

“Coincidence? I think not,” Jongin nodded.

All of the students followed along in unison, profoundly proud of their assumptions that left you shaking your head in disbelief. Surely, you had a smile on your face, but it’s surprising to know how your students are able to make such large assumptions based on groundless evidence. You sat down in your chair and turned on your computer, getting your lesson plan ready for the period as your students entertained themselves with Mr. Seo.

Johnny takes it all in, nodding to all of them before walking up behind your desk. “Well, I think it’s safe to say that you don’t pester too much to Miss y/n about it. You know how much she likes to keep her life private.” While you were browsing through your saved files and pulling up powerpoints, you felt the latter tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Right, Mrs. Seo?”

And just like that, your hands stilled. Wait, did he just—

“Hold up..”

“What?”

“Did you just—”

“Mrs. Seo?”

“Huh?”

You squeezed your eyelids shut. Oh my god, here we go again—

“YOU GUYS ARE MARRIED??”

jeongvision’s milestone event!

#johnny #nct johnny #johnny scenarios #johnny imagines #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #johnny x reader #johnny x oc #johnny fluff #johnny smut #johnny suh #johnny seo #johnny angst

287 notes · View notes

yunhostinyuyu · 3 years

Text

marks

pairing: bad boy!san x fem reader

genre: college au, suggestive, almost smut

wc: 3.1k

synopsis: Y/N swore herself to never get involved with people like Choi San: the typical fuckboy. She hated him (or she at least made herself believe she did) but thats the exact reason that drew him towards her...

warnings: teasing, making out, mentions of sex, alcohol and drugs

—

„look at who we have here? Y/N doing her dirty laundry, never thought I’d witness that.“

you were hunched on your floor with baskets of freshly washed clothes all around the floor. Whipping your head to the door of your dorm‘s bathroom, and you immediately regret it. The cheeky comment came from no other than Choi San - Resident fuck boy and unfortunately, your roommates best friend. He is the type of guy your parents would warn you from. The type to play with a girl until he’s satisfied and dips right after.

The type of you you would never want to get involved with in any sort of way.

But, since he hangs around your dorm frequently and you share a few classes and lectures, that was not easy. Crashing on the couch you bought with your roommate bought together when you moved in, more often than you’d like. Throwing certain looks at you when you entered the lecture halls or passed by him when he was chatting and smoking with his friends off campus. Never letting you breathe for a single moment, he enjoyed teasing you. Needless to say you hated his guts for many things, and he just added more reasons to your imaginary list with every passing day you saw him around campus.

Meanwhile, you’re lifestyle was the complete opposite of his, being the well mannered and friendly classmate, the typical nice girl everyone thought you were - and what your parents wanted you to be. Of course, you were not always like that, especially around your friends. With them you could act the way you truly are, and that was anything but the front you put on most of the time. But San made you drop any sort of friendliness to curse at him every chance you got. And right now was no different:

“Fuck off Choi. Wooyoung isn’t here, so leave.” you spat while not paying anymore attention to him, instead going back to the task at hand.

Taking a few steps towards you, inspecting the room as if he had seen it for the first time, and paying close attention of you putting clothes out of the washing machine. His eyes paying close attention to your hands that move in fluid motions.

“I know, but he’ll be here any second.” Trailing off, and you decided to not even answer him - he isn’t worth your time or nerves right now, after all he just wanted to get under your skin and rile you up. And the less you talk, the better.

He hums to himself, as he bends down to pick up one black, lacy pair of undergarments, inspecting them closely. His thumbs grazing over the neat material, fingertips holding them up in the air. You don’t realize he took something from the basket to your left until he comments on them.

“Are these new? Must be, huh... your little ass would look sooo cute in them. Are you gonna wear them for me one day, Y/N?” his low voice echoed through the tiled room, and you are fast to react: snatching the pair of panties back, out of his grip and throwing it back into the basket. Scoffing, showing your stride at him without any hesitation. “In your dreams. Now, leave me alone. I’m not gonna repeat myself, Choi.” Your features twist as you grow more and more annoyed with him.

“Oh don’t worry,” he backed up a few steps, but the cocky grin stayed on his lips, “with that attitude I’ll most certainly dream of it.”

You heard the door twist, which could only mean that Wooyoung was finally here to save you from any further suggestive comments. Considering you couldn’t stand anything more that was about to leave his mouth.

Admittedly, San has his reputation for a reason: him being one of the most handsome guys you have ever laid your eyes on. And if he wasn’t such an asshole, there would be a possibility you’d be interested in him. And yes, if the stigma that your parents had embroidered into your brain, that ‘sex is bad’ and to stay ‘pure’ until you’re married. If you could push that out of your mind for good, you would be maybe like San. Maybe, you’d even be with him... but god forbid he would ever find out you thought of him like that, especially when you had one of your moments, late at night. If he would know about your honest thoughts, he would use it to his advantage. He wouldn’t give in until he got his way with you - in his very own way.

“San-ah! Come on, we gotta go!” your roommate screams and prompts the visitor to get going quick.

“Too bad, guess I’ll see you around, Y/N. Maybe one day my dreams will become reality nonetheless.” He turns on his heels and dashes towards his friend. The repeating sound of the lock falling into place made you sigh out loudly, pressing your forehead against the cold material of the washing machine you’re still sitting in front of.

Incidents like these are not new and you have already gotten used to San having zero shame when it came to anything even remotely personal or sexual. He knew how he comes across, which only scores him more and more girls to take home and to make his body count grow rapidly. But until now, it hasn’t worked with you, and he’s trying time and time again to wrap you around his finger. Without success.

And you planned to keep it this way.

–

“I hate you for dragging me here.” you groaned after you kept chewing on the rim of your red cup. The girl on your right ignored your comment and kept scanning the crowd.

It was unbelievable, but yes: you were stuck on a frat party... again. Your cousin Mijung needed to meet a guy she was planning on hooking up with, and you lost a bet, so you had to go with her. In secret, she was still scared to go by herself and you wanted to help her - regardless of that you hated parties like this. Obviously, you hoped that she wouldn’t leave your side too soon, but at the same time it only meant you could get home earlier, which was a win in your books.

„Sure you do. But I don’t care right now, because you owe it to me. You could let loose for once and also get some good di-“

„No, I’m not, and you know I can’t!“ you cut Mijung off and she lifts her hands up in defeat.

She just scoffs while scanning the place for faces she might recognize. “Yes, yes I know. God forbid your parents ever find out your at a party like this, or even have sex. But they have nothing to worry about.” Thinking to yourself that they really do not need to worry, but deep inside you wanted to do all these things that you got restricted from. Forcefully restricted yourself from, and the longer you thought about it, you wanted to go against it. Date and sleep with guys as you please, live a little. But still, something unknown was holding you back from it.

“You know it’s not just that but also-“ you started explaining yourself for the nth time in your life, but now she cut you off and hopped off her barstool. The man she was waiting for finally appeared and she left with him after they exchanged a quick peck as a greeting. Being uncomfortable with the scene, you fumbled with your phone in order not to look awkward or out of place - but that’s exactly what you were. And on top of that, you were alone.

You held your phone tightly in your grip, watching over the intense crowd, people on people and the sight made you nauseous, especially when you locked eyes with someone that was kissing or grinding on each other. You wanted to be able to do those sorts of things, but at the same time it scared you, almost disgusted you. But the sting of alcohol in your cup that you barely drank made everything worse. The situation altogether was just too much for you.

“Now look at that, am I high or is the notorious Y/N at our place?”

You cursed to yourself when you recognized his voice.

“Fuck off, Choi.” was the first and only thing that you could think of while still scrolling mindlessly through your apps to appear busy.

He slides into the seat Mijung left empty just a few minutes ago. “Now, you know that doesn’t affect me. I just wanna talk a bit. I’m not feeling getting hammered tonight if I’m being honest.” He started a conversation and you forced yourself to look at him. He looked too good to be true with his messy hair and black shirt and jeans. But you ignored his visuals in order to give him a strict look.

“And what do you wanna talk about? We never talk. And I’m not gonna be here for much longer anyways.” You explained and San rose and eyebrow at your comment. “Oh? So we’re do you plan on going?”

You didn’t know, since Mijung was left so early, you haven’t given it any thought other than going back home, even if it was too early to leave, but yet dark outside.

“Home. To my dorm. I hate places like this.” You looked away, and he noticed your discomfort. The atmosphere was really awkward between the two of you. As a result you turned slightly away from him.

He sighs, “You know, we can go somewhere quiet.” You adamantly shake your head at his suggestion, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re aware of your reputation and so am I. I’m not doing that.” you spat disheartinly, assuming it was another one of his attempts to get into your pants. But surprisingly, it wasn’t.

“No, you listen now,” he took hold of your arm and twisted you back to face him. “You’re uncomfortable here, I can see that. I’m taking you to my room. And not to get with you, but because I promised Wooyoung to take him home when he’s completely wasted tonight. I can take you home then alongside him.” he says and his brows furred a little.

Wooyoung was someone you trusted, so if he trusted San to take him home when he’s completely shitfaced, then maybe you could also trust him? All alarms went off in your head telling you he was anything but trustworthy. But as you looked into his eyes, there was something genuine about his offer. But after a few moments of thinking, you gave him the benefit of the doubt: you complied and nodded, “okay, but just because Woo trusts you.” But that was enough for him.

He got up and urged you to come after him, walking up the stairs until the loud noises from the other people steadily died down. After the two of you entered his room, your nervousness und sense of awkwardness disappeared again. Even if it was San, you were used to him, to his presence. And it was better then to be lost and alone downstairs.

“Make yourself feel at home.” He introduces you when he plops down at his bed, while you took a closer look around his personal space. There were plenty of books on his shelf, a flag hung up on the wall, and the desk was messy in books and other stuff he used frequently. To be honest, you imagined his room to be more messy, but it was just a kind of creative chaos.

The silence in his room was thick. He watched your movements closely for a while, but you tried to give him not much attention, even if you felt his stares linger on you. Minutes passed until he started to speak up again:

“Do you mind if I ask you something? I’m kinda curious, y’know.”

You turned around and look into his eyes, that are loosely hidden behind his dark strains of hair over his forehead. Arms pushed behind him on the bed to support his upper body, leaning back. You walk back a little until you sit down in a giant bean bag that was in the center of the small room. While you adjust yourself you look over to him once again, signaling him to continue talking. He sits up a little, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs.

“You know, any other girl would beg me to fuck them if they were in your spot. Why are you so determined to do anything but that?”

Taken aback, you knew San was bold, but you didn’t expect him to go there, especially not at this time, when he offered a hide out for you so considerably. Shrugging your shoulders you dip your chip to your chest and try to figure out a way to answer his question.

“I’m, uhm, I’m... it’s just not my thing.” You stutter out, and you are pretty sure you have an aura of uncertainty surrounding you. Of course, San picks up on it:

“Wait, not your thing? What kinda guy did you sleep with that make you think that way about sex? Or girl?” His facial expressions clearly confused, not yet understanding your reasoning.

You stayed silent. Because you couldn’t muster to say the truth: you haven’t. Yes, you were a still a virgin, in college. Nobody knew other than Mijung, not even any of your closest friends. And the fact that San was this close to discovering your secret, or probably already did, made you anxious.

“Mmh, I get it now. You never got laid. Not even once in your life. Am I Right?” He assumed and hit the nail right on the head. You wanted to cuss him out, hit and slap him, but that would only prove him right. The blush that crept on your face was answer enough for him. He stood up from his place on the bed to sit back down next to you on the floor. You couldn’t look at him, because of the pure humiliation he’s putting you through, trying to get swallowed by the fuzzy material of your seat.

“So that’s the reason you’re acting like this most of the time: you have never gotten any action together than with yourself. How am I only just now figuring this out?” He chuckles, having you in a spot were you couldn’t get out as easy as you’d like. Still not opting to speak, gnawing at the inside of your cheek instead, but you don’t need to anyway, because he continues to piece the evidence together.

“Wooyoung once mentioned you had strict parents, you know. Judging by how you act around your friends, I didn’t think you’d care about what they thought, no? You’re well past the age of being ‘daddy’s good girl’. And also by the way you throw shallow insults at me every time we are in the same room, I can tell you that you’re anything but the nice girl your parents want you to be. That’s not the real you. But Y/N, you know it’s your life? You can do whatever you want? If you want to take drugs, take them. If you want to smoke, smoke. If you want to get dicked down, then for fucks sake get some! You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

Stunned by his rant, you scanned his face for any signs of emotions, but it was really hard to tell what was going on in his head. He sighs and dips his chin to the side, before finding your eyes again, taking your hand into his rough ones. The physical touch had a certain effect on you, and you wanted to be closer to him. Your future self your probably slap yourself in the face for this, but right now you got lost in his dark eyes and deep stare. Feeling vulnerable under the intensity of his gaze, not knowing what to do or say. Taking a quick breath, you uttered under your breath “where is this going, San?” Against all expectations, he smiles.

“Anything that happens here, between you and I, nobody else is gonna know about it. Not a single soul.” His hand slowly start to wander up your arm, touching the skin of your neck and threads his fingers through the strains of hair that rest on your shoulder. You don’t feel anything other than the alarms in the back of your mind slowly subside and be replaced by other thoughts.

“Just tell me no and I’ll stop.” His voice comes out raspy and seductive, and it sends waves of arousal down your core, even if the only physical contact you two had was from his wandering hands. The thought excited you, and he had a point: you could do whatever you wanted, and up until now, the consequences would keep you from giving into him. But there are no worries of the sort holding you back anymore, and if it was only for tonight, so be it. He was to strong, his effect was too strong.

His eyes never leave yours, until you give him an answer.

“Yes, okay. Yes I want it. I want you to show me what I’m missing out on.” You brace yourself for whats coming next, but nothing could prepare you for what he had in mind. He grabs your hips to lift you up, and in shock your arms fly to grab his shoulders. He settles you down in his lap, hands immediately find your ass and grips the flesh through your jeans. You both lean forward, hot breath mixing and hitting your faces. That was until San looses his patience just a few seconds later and presses his lips onto yours. And it wasn’t like anything you have ever felt before.

The two of you move in sync for what feels like ages, his tongue entering your mouth and taking the lead as he continues to grip your waist and butt to draw a few whimpers out of you. Your fingers found their place in his nape and gripped his hair as you busied your mouth with his. He breaks the kiss and moves down towards your neck and starts to suck on your skin, making marks blossom in shades of red and purple.

“If you want this to be a secret, you should make sure to cover up your marks later, because I’m not letting you go without adding my mark to your beautiful, beautiful body.”

Eyes blown out in lust, and you died in anticipation. He sucked more and more hickeys until he was satisfied with the finished product. He lifted his head up again and you wanted to kiss him again.

But then, you heard something hit the door from the outside, followed by a thud and a load groan. “San-ah! Let me in, I need to -“

—

#wow idk why either just go with it #ateez #ateez au #ateez fic #ateez writing #ateez x reader #ateez san #choi san #ateez smut #ateez suggestive #san x reader #san x you #san fluff #san smut

280 notes · View notes

heli0s-writes · 4 years

Text

i need a forest fire*

My submission for @jalapenobarnes‘s writing challenge. Congratulations on your milestone, Saran! Thank you for hosting! 🧡

Nomad Steve/Reader & the prompt is hiraeth- a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.

The title is from James Blake’s song of the same name. 🧡

I'm also double-dipping in the smut prompts with talking dirty over the phone. 1.7k. Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

“I miss you.”

“I know.”

“No… I miss you.”

He chuckles and leans his head onto the headboard of yet another motel dwelling-- their stay for the week before they continue to another city, another assignment. Can’t plant his feet anywhere yet. No roots to grow for a while. No sun to warm him.

“How’s it been?”

“Fine enough. Same as usual, gotta keep moving.”

You’re thousands of miles away—disembodied voice in his ear that reminds him of home and his bed. Reminds him of the imprint electrifying his nights—the briefness of a new thing. The wonder of a good thing. A love that sprang slow over time, caught fire overnight, burned to ashes too quick.

“How are you?”

“Mm. Fine enough.”

He hears the squeak of a door, the click of a deadbolt, and the extra chain latching on top. Then, a mattress too noisy to be yours. A familiar ritual now, when you want the little bits of him that he can afford to give. A motel some distance from the compound, always a new one with every call because you’re too careful to make mistakes. Too careful to accidentally give him away.

It makes him smile to pretend that the two of you might be in the same place, sharing the same creaky fucking bed. Maybe breaking it in—breaking it apart.

Steve grits his teeth. Hisses discreetly, but not discreet enough.

“What’s that sound for?”

“Just— in bed. In a bed.”

“Not my bed.”

“No,” he laughs, “Wish I was, though.”

“Remember the last time you were there?” Rustling as you settle down and Steve does so as well, slipping his legs beneath paper thin covers. Imitation—imagination—allowing a domestic fantasy.

He considers it-- maybe half a year ago now—and suddenly his cheeks light up. He could easily give out one of those noises again— have you catch him red-handed dreaming of splayed thighs at the edge of the mattress. Him on his knees, one hand in his lap, practically drooling and a mess from the cheek down.

“You’ve got a beard now, huh? What’ll that be like between my legs?”

Oh, hell.

“Baby…” Steve grinds his skull against the wood, shivering at prickles down his spine, “Baby… Christ. You can’t say that.”

“Are you sharing a room? Are you sharing a room?”

You fucking tease. You would like it if he was sharing a room, just so you could provoke him stupid. Jesus, Steve’s the criminal now but you’ve always been a goddamn minx if he’s ever known one. Whip fucking smart, though, and it broke his heart when you suggested that he’d need someone on the other side, that it’ll be okay, Steve, I won’t punch you too hard.

And he only loved you more when you did punch him too hard. Loved you harder when you gave him coordinates to the Raft, the codes, the blueprints lifted from Ross’ files.

He had one last night then, in your room, before it’d inevitably be ransacked and searched—bugged to hell because Ross only trusted you as far as he could throw you, even if you played all your cards right.

It’s why you catch the bus to motels with a burner phone inside the lining of your jacket. Create nonsensical rotations of locations. Schedule calls without a linear time frame. Sometimes a month, sometimes longer. It’s why he misses you so goddamn much.

“Steve…” A drawl of his name that lets him know exactly what you want of him.

“I’m not sharing a room,” he says cautiously, like a warning, “But Sam’s right next door. And it’s paper thin here.”

“You better be quiet then. You’re not Goody-Two-Shoes Cap anymore, are you? Don’t you wanna try phone sex with your girl?” His chest tightens, throat going dry at your tone, at the way you say your girl, at the possibility of phone sex—as daunting as it is exciting.

“Okay, yeah, sweetheart,” Steve shudders, reaching into his sweats because he can’t say no— he’s already half hard, anyway. Itching for it. “Yeah. You can have me. H-how do you want me?”

“Touching yourself, to start.” A sigh in your voice. He closes his eyes, swallows thickly, imagines your breath over his lips, imagines the way you pepper kisses across his chest. “I always liked watching you do that, pretty boy.”

Steve groans, stroking languidly, building himself up, focusing on the way he can just barely hear the hum in the back of your throat. “You’re pretty.”

A giggle then, snapping him out of his trance and heat overtakes the top of his head. Ugh. He’s not good at this. Being laughed at during sex—regardless of how disembodied—never a good sign. “Fuck,” He grumbles. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I like it, Steve; I like you.” Just like that, he’s breathless again. “Hm, wanna know what I’m doing, pretty boy?” And his breath may never come back.

“Remember those little satin panties I wore? Ribbon ties on the side… and you pulled them off with your teeth?”

Of course he does. Delicate lavender and shimmery soft. By the time he dropped to the floor they were already wet in the middle—pastel going rich purple. Your chest-- heaving as you leaned back on the sheets, his hands on the thin skin of your knees, stretching willing legs apart.

Steve catches his cockhead with the crook of his finger. Grunts quietly into the receiver.

“Baby, are you wearing those?”

“Uh-huh, just for you.”

“Are you touching yourself—ah—thinkin’ about me?”

“Every night.”

Fuck. Jesus Christ, you’re bad. He’s gonna blow his load and the call’s only been five minutes.

“What—” another shuddering breath when he grips a little too hard, “—what do you think about me doing?”

You sigh again, whimper like a little punctuation, sheets rustling. “I think about your tongue and how wet you make me,” and your voice is so low, so needy, “I wish you were here, Steve. Touching me all over.” And the picture in his mind of you, so pretty and open, wild at the mere memory of him—

“When you get back,” and there it is, egging his own fist on to match the pace of a subtle and steady sluiced-up rhythm, your fingers working over, inside, back out, twisting and turning. “When you get back, Steve. I’m gonna let you know just how much I miss you.”

He’s hot all over, chasing the ghost of your doting kisses, the phantom touch of your skillful hands. “Jesus, sweetheart.”

“Yeah? You gonna let me make you feel good when you get home?”

“Yes—yes.”

“Keep going. Think about me riding you, baby. Slow at first, how you like, taking you a little bit at a time. You’re always so hard.”

Always for you, yeah, he is. And as much as he loves tasting you—as much as he could spend eternity and a half blessed between your thighs, dedicated to those noises you make when his tongue slips over your clit—his fingers knuckle-deep inside—the way you move on top of him is another sacrament altogether.

Steve jams the phone between his ear and his shoulder—neck cramp tomorrow be damned—and uses both hands. Forgets for a little that you’re not quite there.

Slow, like you said, at first, listening to your recital, the chorus of his breath an applause.

“Now, faster.”

And he’s lost in the roll of your hips, one hand on his chest, the other gripped tight around his shoulder, nails carving crescents into his skin because you need an anchor. He’s lost in the way his heart pounds the sharper the cuts because it means you’ve let yourself go. How you scramble for his fingers next, lacing them through yours, squeezing him there and everywhere.

And oh, how exquisite you look with that sheen of sweat across your chest. Hovering over him like a goddess and fucking him like a wet dream.

“Baby,” red lip pulled pale between his teeth, hands working in tandem—imitation and imagination constructing a well-oiled machine in your absence. “Baby, fuck. Miss you on me—miss you fucking me. God--”

“Yeah? Gonna come?” You’re panting, too, noises high and obscene, the background echo of your hand growing more frantic and unrestrained. “Me too, pretty boy. I want to do everything with you—have all of you. Your hands, your mouth, your cock.”

“Yeah. Yes,” he babbles, “I wanna give you everything.”

“Come with me, Steve—come on, baby.”

And it’s all so fast. Your words. His words. Your hands. His hands. He’s barely finished rucking down his sweats, pulling up the hem of his shirt last minute before his eyes roll back behind his lids. He’s spilling out, over his fist, up his clenched abdomen, entire body tight, panting heavy and hard as he tugs at himself a few more times, breathing and listening, heart still clobbering against his ribcage when you whimper one last time.

The comedown is aching, then. His eyes flutter open. Heat smothered cold and lonesome like those ashes. His neck hurts. His heart hurts.

“Steve,” and he hears it in you, too—the same ache, the same want. Like at the end of every call you’ve made to him in the past six months.

“Steve,” you say again, “It’s okay. You’ll be back soon enough. You’ll have me then. Every night if you’d like.”

Of course he would, but he can’t voice it now, not in all this dark, not when the pain is bubbling up in his throat, not when he loves you so much he can’t stand to worry you with its sound.

“Look on the bright side, you lawless fugitive. Least you know how to have phone sex now. Cap would never.” He laughs at that, happiness like tinder sparking fast from a flame. “You’ll be home soon.”

Home. Home. A place with his bed and his girl. Planting his feet down safely. Growing roots in that rich, soft soil, sprinkled with ash. Tended to by the warmth of your touch.

“Yeah. I will,” he says, and the fire chases away the dark.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #reader insert #fanfiction #marvel #mcu

664 notes · View notes

saxxxology · 4 years

Text

control || oneshot

Sam’s tense, stressed, and you’re his only source of relief.

PAIRING: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Native American!Reader

WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics, smut, semi-public sex

NOTE: This work was written for Bel as a commission. Do not save or repost my work without my consent. 18+ only - if you are not 18, please leave/unfollow me!

⭒ become a patron for just $3 ⭒

You’ve been on the road for hours, stopping only for gas and snacks. The sights whizz by at sixty-five miles an hour, open landscape to towering trees. You’re tired and sore from almost two weeks of being on the road and tracking leads on Michael, but Sam won’t stop. Things are getting rough—Omegas are rare, and Sam’s an Alpha in a word where your kind are outnumbered three-to-one. He used to be nice, sweet, kind. Now, since his brother’s been gone almost three weeks… he’s irritable and aggressive, only speaking when you ask him a question or when he wants you to do something.

It’s hard, especially since Alphas and Omegas aren’t genetically compatible by just working together. Sam’s not a bad-looking guy, and you’re an Omega without a mate. It’s programmed into you to want him, bad. Trouble is, he doesn’t seem to feel the same way. If you can just lure him in… he might appreciate you a little more.

“I’m tired,” you murmur one night when you’re peeling through Oregon. “We should find a motel.”

“Get in the backseat.”

You glance over at the Alpha. He looks tired, dark shadows under his eyes, thickening beard, tense jaw. It’s been a rough few days, and he’s been showing the effects of suffering from a lack of sleep.

“Let’s find a motel,” you try to reason. “It’s really late, Sam, and you haven’t slept. I don't want you to pass out on the road.”

He clears his throat. “I won’t.”

“You don’t know that… please, there’s gotta be a place in the next town.” You pull out your phone and open the Maps app, intent on finding a reasonable place. “Let’s just stay for one night, we can shower, get some real food...”

His jaw ticks. “Fine.”

You sigh with relief and scroll through the list of motels that come up. The cheapest one has six rooms available, so you turn on directions and set your phone on your seat. The rest of the drive passes in silence, and you let Sam find a parking spot as you head into the lobby to book a room for the night, with cash. You meet him in the parking lot, where he’s got both of your bags, and then go unlock a room on the second level.

“You shower first,” Sam directs. “We’re outta here first thing in the morning.”

You nod in silent agreement and unzip your duffel bag, tugging out a bundle of clean pajamas. His eyes laser-focus on your back as you disappear into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. The shower pressure is a little heavy, but you let it beat the tension out of your shoulders and back.

It feels good to be alone—the last two weeks have been filled with Sam and hunting and Sam and driving and more Sam. Why he’d chosen you to come along, you have no idea. There’s a bunch of Alphas that had come with you from the other world that are just as good at tracking and hunting as you are, if not better.

Regardless, the Omega in you needs either space or for him to stop being so focused on his mission of finding his brother. He’s an Alpha, after all… if you can coax him into staying a night at a motel after four days of camping out in the Impala, who knows what you can get him to do.

You emerge in a billowing cloud of steam, pulling at a strap of your tank top. Sam’s reclining on one of the beds, watching the news. He stands up when you shove your dirty jeans and tee-shirt back into your bag and grabs his own—just a rolled-up pair of black sweats. Wordlessly, he stalks past you into the bathroom, and you hear the shower start up almost instantly.

Jerk.

***

You check out the next morning, after two hours at the laundromat, where you plot your course back to Lebanon. There’s nothing much to do but go back, since every lead is cold and you can’t do much else.

Another day passes on the road. You pay for a night at a campsite just outside Wyoming and camp down inside the car, Sam in the front seat, you in back. It’s cold, and you spend most of the night shivering and yawning over actually sleeping. Sam takes note of your discomfort the following morning and buys you the biggest coffee Starbucks can make.

You wake up late, having fallen asleep in the backseat. Sam’s still driving, eyes focused on the road, and he barely glances in the rearview mirror as you sit up.

“Where are we?” you ask.

“Nebraska.” Sam holds up a bottle of root beer as you clamber back into the front seat. “I got food while you were out, thought you might be thirsty.”

You crack the bottle open and take a long sip. “Thanks.”

“We’ll haul through the night, get back to Lebanon in the morning.” Sam shifts in his seat.

You don’t bother to reply, only sit back in your seat and rest your head against the window. The miles tick by, lit by the light of the moon. The whole car smells like Sam, and it’s starting to drive you nuts.

Sam breaks the silence after almost an hour, taking a deep breath before speaking. “You smell different.”

Cheeks flushing, you sniff under your shirt. “I’m wearing deodorant.”

“Not that.” He tightens his jaw. “You know what I mean.”

You chew on your lower lip. “Are you…?”

“Not going into rut,” he says. “But I can’t deny you smell good. Why d’you think I asked you to come along?”

You shift on the seat, feeling the strong pulse between your legs. “I thought you said I was smart.”

He chuckles. “You are. But there’s other Alphas back at the bunker and I’m not leaving you there alone for them to fight over.”

Your cheeks flare. “They wouldn’t fight.”

He grimaces. “Trust me, they would. I’ve seen more than enough fights over Omegas, they’re brutal and I don’t need to deal with knotheads who can’t control themselves. Besides, with the way you’re smelling right now, it’s not smart to take you back there at all.”

You shift a little closer, heart racing in your chest. “They wouldn’t fight if I had an Alpha.”

His nostrils flare. “Don’t start.”

“It wouldn’t be bad,” you explain. “You don’t have to claim me, I’m not asking for that.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Your hand creeps onto his thigh. “I don’t wanna get dropped off somewhere, Sam. If I got you on me, if I got you inside me, they’d know.”

Sam scoffs. “Yeah, and what happens when you get pregnant? The last thing I wanna deal with right now is a pup.”

“I’m not in heat.”

“Yet.”

“Still.” Your fingers drift up, rubbing over the front of his jeans. “You’re so on edge, you need to take a break.”

“Can’t.”

“Not even five minutes?”

He tongues the inside of his cheek. “What do you have that’s only gonna take five minutes.”

You give him a little squeeze, watch his upper lip flicker up into a snarl. “Is it so bad that I just want a good, hard fuck? Funny that a guy like you isn’t jumping at the chance to get his knot nice and wet.”

Sam exhales sharply as his cock gives a soft twitch, giving way to the tease of your hand. “Y/N…”

You rub him again, feeling him swell and stiffen in his jeans. “Come on, Sam, please…”

He groans when you lift your hips, shoving your pants down and to the floor. “Y/N—”

“Give me your hand.” You tug one of his hands off the wheel and guide it between your legs, dipping into the waistband of your panties, and two of his fingers slide against wet, hot flesh. “This is what you do to me,” you whisper, rubbing yourself against his hand. “I need it so bad, Sam, please… I’d feel so good on your—”

You squeal as he suddenly turns off the road, down into a little rest patch. The tires grind against the gravel, and he wrenches the door open, pulling his hand from between your legs and wrapping his fingers in the front of your shirt. He drags you out of the car and around to the back, not caring as you let out a whimper of pain as you stumble on the ground.

“Sam, what—?”

He shoves you down over the trunk, letting you catch yourself on your hands. “If you’re going to act like a little Omega slut, then I’m gonna fuck you like one.”

He lifts you onto the trunk and steps between your thighs, wrenching his belt open and pulling his cock into his hand before tugging your panties aside. You feel him rut through your folds, grunting as he slicks himself, and thrusts into his hand as he lines himself up, trying to find your entrance in the darkness. His other hand lands between your tits as he thrusts in with a primal shout, the sudden sensation of hot slick on his cock almost too much. He shudders through another shove, and your breath chokes off when he presses in deep enough for you to feel the firmer flesh near the base of him inside.

“That’s it,” he snarls, “take it good… you wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”

You nod, head tipping back as he grabs your waist to hold you still as he picks up the pace. Straining forward, he presses each deep, heavy thrust against your cervix, fighting the urge to see if you’re receptive enough to take him in there, where he’s only been a couple times before, and drain him dry.

“Oh no you don’t.” He shoves your shirt up and palms a tit in one huge palm when you try to wiggle back and change the angle of your hips. “I like it this way, you spread out like a greedy little slut.”

He bends to kiss you, and the feeling of his lips pressed wet and sloppy against yours makes you squirm, desperate for more. Your hands slip around to grab handfuls of his ass, sliding the waistband of his boxers down until you can feel warm, firm muscle. He grunts, rutting closer, and you spread just a little wider, letting the skin above his cock rub against your clit.

“You’re gonna cum like this,” Sam growls, “with my cock inside you… just how you want it. You want it, don’t you? So fucking wet and tight for me. Gonna feel real good getting my knot up in you.”

You cry out, stifling the sound with a palm as he spreads his stance and fucks you closer and closer to orgasm. He grunts when you buck underneath him, trying to get him to ease off, but he holds you in place.

“Scream,” he pants, “nobody can fuckin’ hear you out here, I wanna hear you scream.”

Your head falls back onto the car as your body convulses. A whine turns into a long, hitching series of breaths, and you cum so hard your vision blurs. Sam grunts, going still inside you and working his fingers on your clit until you’re whimpering and begging for him to back off.

He wastes no time in pulling out, tugging your hips off the car, and turning you around to bend you over. You wince as he kicks your ankles apart, and he slides back inside without hesitation, hands holding your hips high enough for him to be comfortable.

“That’s it, baby,” he urges, “I’m almost there, gonna cum nice and deep… take it real good for me…”

You shudder through another wave of pleasure as Sam’s thrusts grow stronger and more determined. His fingers dig into your flesh, surely leaving bruises, and when you feel him curl over you, his lips meeting the back of your neck, you arch for him, slick streaming down the insides of your thighs as he fucks right against your sweet spot.

“Sam—” you choke on a sob as his grunts start to intensify, “fuck you’re… I need you to—”

“I’m gettin’ there,” he pants, “fuck, I’m gonna cum…”

You let out another squeal as he shoves forward, his knot popping inside your cunt as his mouth presses against the back of your neck. He cums with a bestial snarl in your ear, hips pumping wildly against your ass, and you squirm as the heat of his seed fills you.

Panting hard, he slumps against you, pressing as close as he can. His teeth scrape over your skin, and you shiver, arching away. He chuckles darkly.

“You really think I’d claim you right here?” he nips at the back of your neck again, earning a breathy whine. “Mmm, you’re not ready for that. When your hot little ass goes into heat, though…”

You squirm when he gives you a shallow thrust, knot pulsing inside you. “You’ll claim me?”

“I’m not gonna let anyone else get a taste of this,” he murmurs. “It’s all mine now.”

He steps back, easing his softened knot out of your body, and strides around to the backseat to grab a wad of napkins. You wipe yourself down, discarding the sticky tissues in a plastic bag destined for the trash, and slip into the front seat. You’re a mess—panties drenched in slick and cum, the front of your shirt rumpled from where Sam had grabbed you. He eyes the way you squirm on the seat and reaches back to grab a blanket.

“Sit on this,” he directs. “Don’t need you ruining the seat.”

You fight the urge to retort that it’s really his fault that the seat would be ruined, but you tuck the cotton fabric underneath you without a word. It’s pointless to put your pants back on… if Sam wants you again, they’ll only get in his way.

As the Impala pulls back onto the road and roars away, you tuck yourself against his side, head on his shoulder so you can press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. He doesn’t object when you slide down to rest your cheek against his thigh, and he settles back in his seat, eyes fixed on the long, dark road ahead.

He’ll figure out what to do with you when you get back.

Please reblog & comment if you enjoyed reading this :)

Wanna get tagged? Click here!

FOREVER TAGS: @atc74 @comicmcfly @defenderrosetyler @daughterofthenight117 @deanmonandnegansbitch @desisamslut @emberocrpblog @emoryhemsworth @ellen-reincarnated1967 @fangirl-and-medstudent-help @fandom-princess-forevermore @heartsaved @kittenofdoomage @kickingitwithkirk @lovelyrocker @lunarsaturn88 @mariekoukie6661 @mrswhozeewhatsis @neii3n @percussiongirl2017 @ssworldofsw @squirrel-moose-winchester @sea040561 @sammysnaughtygirl @starsandasteroids @spnwoman @spnbaby-67 @serpentbaby @stoneyggirl @thecleverdame @tumbler-tidbits @winecatsandpizza @zombiewerewolfqueen @85natalie @4won

#alpha!sam winchester #alpha!sam x omega!reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester reader insert #sam winchester fanfiction

231 notes · View notes

icollectyoursins · 3 years

Text

Werewolf!Mista x Fem!Reader NSFW

Fandomhell97 on AO3 said: “Oh god I need more werewolf Mista content 😳 I don't know if you do requests but maybe something with Mista turning and their s/o finding out? Or him first turning? Maybe ended with smut?”

This was kind of cheesy, but it’s a werewolf turning in front of their S/O and it’s Mista. It’s gotta be a little cheesy! And some light angst. Though, what’s a werewolf story with out a little angst?

Mista had gotten distracted in the days leading up to the full moon and suddenly realizes this as he’s walking you home. It’s going to take everything in him to stay in control. Unless someone starts tempting him to live on the wild side...

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Wolf transformation, slight body horror, licking, biting, reader being turned on by things that shouldn’t technically be turning them on, claws, vaginal sex, female orgasm, creampie, knots.

Word Count: 1964

Guido’s eyes flicked up to the clouded sky again. He was nervous about something, but you weren’t quite sure what. Maybe he was just protective. You were walking down a long, dark, creepy forest path, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to think that someone could jump out at the two of you, but you felt safe with him. There was no way he’d let anyone hurt you. Regardless, he kept looking around, hand squeezing yours out of worry. Was he afraid of the dark? You chuckled at the thought.

“Eh? What’s so funny?” He looked at you quizzically, head cocked to the side. You chuckled again.

“Nothing, you just seem a little on edge,” you tease, playfully poking his side with your elbow. His face contorts into confusion, perking up one eyebrow. “I was just thinking that maybe you’re afraid of the dark?”

Mista’s eyes grow wide and he suddenly starts laughing, tossing his head back. “Ha! That is funny!” He wipes a tear from his eye, grinning like a fool. His whole body seems to relax now, thankfully. You both let out a sigh of relief, enjoying the walk home a little bit more.

But it doesn’t take long for him to remember what tonight is. He should tell you. You deserved to know what’s been on his mind and-

There’s a change in the wind that tells him it’s close. Damn it. He regretfully lets go of your hand, stopping in his tracks. You look back at him, wondering what’s gotten into him today. His hand starts to rub at the back of his neck as he looks to the ground, avoiding eye contact.

“Ah, (Y/N). I don’t wanna do this, but um-” the wind picks up again. He can feel his hair standing on end now. God, of all the days! “-I can’t walk you home. I’ve uh... gotta go.”

“Mista! You said-”

“Yeah, I know what I said, but I’ve-AH!” Suddenly he’s hunched over, groaning in pain. “Run.” He says, falling to the ground. “Leave! Get out of here!”

You’re confused and concerned, rushing to his side, holding his face in your hands. You call out his name, but it falls on deaf ears. Was he hurt? Well, obviously, he’s hunched over and almost in tears. He looks up to you, eyes glazed over and wet. His mouth opens to say something.

That’s when the clouds start to part revealing the light of the full moon. It shines directly on Mista’s face, almost blinding him. He looks up, angry and desperate all at the same time. He starts crying out again, voice cracking the more painful his transformation got.

You call his name again, trying to pull his gaze to you. He pushes you away, becoming more animal by the minute. You fall back onto your hands, scrambling to the other side of the path.

You watch in shock as his hands deform and stretch while his feet do the same, forming into something not quite human. Fingernails turn into claws that dig into the dirt as thick, dark brown fur starts shooting from his pores. His teeth grow longer as his face elongates into a snout that curls into a snarl. Usually sweet, deep brown eyes turn dark; dangerous, but there’s still something in him that’s your Guido and he’s scared.

The transformation continues until he’s ripped through nearly all his clothes, leaving his shoes and hat in tatters. Mista slumps to the ground, exhausted. You wait a few seconds, still in shock at what you just saw. You had heard stories of shit like this, but you never believed them. Though, now you were starting to piece together bits of his behaviour. There was always one week where he would say he was busy with work or something like that. Did that have something to do with this?

God, of course, it did! He turned into a literal wolf-man in front of your eyes.

“Oh my god! Mista!?” You suddenly sprang into action, rushing to his side. You start shaking him gently, tossing aside his ruined hat and looking at his face. He groans as you brush over his fur, checking for any blood or scratches. His tongue slips out, licking over his jowls lazily like a sleeping dog would. “Mista? Are you okay?” You say again softly, stroking the soft fur on his ears.

He moans again, eyes slowly opening. They flick over to you, deciding whether or not you’re dangerous. He gets up slowly, aching from the shift. You watch him stretching and shake before he leans into your neck, smelling you. You’re taken aback, falling onto your hands as he gets closer. That’s when you notice how much bigger he’s gotten. You could tell he was almost a foot taller and he was still crouching down.

His breath tickled your neck one last time before licking the nape, making you shiver. He continued to lick, becoming more purposeful with his strokes which eventually lead to gentle nibbles that made you weak. You didn’t want to admit it, but this new feeling had your head fogging up in every way it shouldn’t be. A warmth started swelling in your core, building with every pass of his tongue. One particularly hard bite on your shoulder made you cry out.

It was in that moment that Mista regained some control over his wolf-self, leaping back immediately, staring at the still-developing red mark. Shit, he hadn’t meant to hurt you, you just smelled so good and tasted so good; he couldn’t help himself. He whined as you reached out to him.

“No, no, it’s okay!” Fuck, how did you say this politely? “I was enjoying it.” Your cheeks burned hot. Did you really just say that?

He cocked his head, blinking with large eyes. Bravely, he came forward again, sniffing and then licking the same spot. You didn’t hold back this time, letting out a light gasp, knowing it would encourage him to go further.

Quickly, he makes his way down to your chest, using his clawed fingers to carefully pull the buttons open on your shirt. It was sort of sweet watching him be so gentle, afraid he would rip your top. Eventually, he gets it off and starts nuzzling into you, inhaling your scent even more. It drove him wild.

He continued to lick and sniff down to your clothed sex. A growl rumbled through his body. Suddenly he was moving again, this time picking you up and carrying you into the deeper parts of the woods, away from anyone who may pass by. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close. His body seemed to radiate heat, drawing you in. Corse fur tickled your exposed chest as he walked.

Finally, he set you down in a safe part of the woods, paws/hands sliding up your sides while his snout dove into your neck again. You weren’t entirely sure what to do with kissing him (he technically didn’t have lips), so you left pecks along his cheeks, burring your face into his neck.

Taking a step back, you began undressing yourself properly, sliding your shirt off your arms and taking off your bottoms. You relished in the way he stared at you, practically drooling. Mista pulled you back into him, pawing your breasts with thick, coarse pads. His tongue licked your cheek lovingly, making you chuckle.

You then pulled away, holding his hand while you walked towards a large tree, slowly making your way onto your back. He followed, climbing over top of you. With a coy smile, you rolled over onto your stomach, bumping your behind into his crotch.

A long, wet tongue dragged up your shoulder blade as Mista’s claws dug into your sides. He jerked your ass into his pelvis again, though, this time it shocked you. You gasped as you felt something growing against you. As his length slipped out of it’s sheath he kept grinding into you, making you more wet. You could hear him softly grunt in your ear, clearly looking forward to whatever came next.

Finally, his cock emerged fully, slipping against your slick folds. It felt so thick. not long, but thick. It made you excited knowing that you would soon be stretched out by it. Your only hope was that he had enough control in him to let you get used to-

Without any warning, the tapered tip found your entrance and he thrust in quickly. You cried out as tears threatened to fall out the corners of your eyes. The wolf noticed, nuzzling your cheek as well as licking away your tears.

“It’s okay,” you panted out, “just be ~ah gentle.” He started to move, dragging through your tight walls in a deliciously painful way. You mewled underneath him, unable to keep yourself quiet with the combined feeling of his warmth above you and his cock working you open.

Guido growled above you, placing his hands on either side of you then doubling down, pulling out completely, then thrusting in again. You jolted under him, trying to find a grip on something. You found a large root in front of you worked best, bracing your arms on it. He licked the nape of your neck again, teeth grazing the skin, making you shiver.

You brought a hand up, burying it in his fur. He continued to pound into you until the pain went away, being taken over completely by pleasure. You moaned out his name freely, encouraging him to go faster. He lifted your ass higher then wrapped his arms around you, finally able to reach the deepest part of you, threatening to bruise your core.

Now you were practically screaming under him, barely coherent enough to form a sentence. His breath felt hot against your cheek as he panted. You felt something begin to swell at the base of his cock. It couldn’t get bigger, could it?

It did. Oh god, it did. His knot gradually inflated as he got closer to his release. It rubbed against your already abused hole, threatening to push itself in. The added feeling sent you hurling into your orgasm, moaning out his name. He growls in your ear as your walls convulse around him and he keeps moving, drawing it out until you go cross-eyed.

His swell continued to tease and rub against you to an almost painful extent.

“M-Mista,” you groaned out, panting heavily. “Gentle, please. Slowly.” He groaned in your ear, a little disappointed, but he tried. He slowed down his thrusts so he was basically rubbing against you. The knot teased your clit as he ground against you. He licked your shoulder, whining as he slowly pushed the bulb into you.

You cried more as your entrance was stretched to a near impossibly amount. It was a slow process full of a pleasing pain until he was finally bottomed out in you. You swore you had to be drooling. You were completely collapsed beneath him, the knot being the only thing keeping your ass upright in what felt like a vacuum seal.

The two of you panted while he lapped at the sweat on your back, rubbing his cheek on yours. Mista held you close, making sure you were okay before moving again in shallow thrusts until the tightness of your walls gripping him sent him tumbling over into his orgasm. He groaned into your ear as his seed spilled into you, dirtying your insides.

Patiently, you waited for his knot to deflate, giving each other sweet kisses in the meantime.

“Guido, you have a lot of explaining to do,” you chuckle out sleepily. He whines in response, lazily licking his chops while his head rested on yours. “Oh, and you’re for sure walking me home after this.”

#guido mista x reader #guido mista #mista x reader #mista #guido mista x reader not sfw #guido mista x reader n/s/f/w #guido mista x reader n/sfw #guido mista not sfw #mista n/sfw #mista not sfw #mista n/s/f/w #werewolf!mista #werewolf!mista not sfw #werewolf!mista n/sfw #werewolf!mista n/s/f/w #mista prompts #not sfw

86 notes · View notes

shih-coulda-had-it · 3 years

Note

35. “Why are you looking at me like that” i want to see what you do with this one

Anon, give me free reign, and I will return with some of the nichest interests to fandom. Another sourdough starter! This is for a time-travel AU with Yoichi/Sorahiko (Yoihiko) for end-game. Sorahiko's canon is set after Nana dies, and before Toshinori heads to the States.

So Sorahiko got punched some thirty-plus years into the past.

Fine. Typical One for All bullshit.

(He is going to punch Toshinori so hard if he ever gets back to the present. Regardless of how much Gran Torino deserved a humbling, Sorahiko did not sign up for this.)

It’s a nightmare of a time period, especially because pro-heroes aren’t exactly a concept yet. Sorahiko is unlucky enough to be picked up by some kind of guerrilla faction, and even more unlucky when he finds out they are connected to All for One. Not in a friendly way, mind.

The leader of the resistance and his right-hand man interfered before Sorahiko could be summarily interrogated and killed. To be fair to the guerrilla faction, Sorahiko had been shooting his mouth off left and right, because this whole situation was awful, and he wasn’t shy about taking his frustration out on assholes.

Things that alarmed them: his gear, his hair, and his unheard-of Quirk.

“Are you related to Shigaraki?” the leader had asked, suspicion written all over his face.

“Who the hell is Shigaraki,” Sorahiko had answered, eyeing the leader’s gauntlets.

Talks are, believe it or not, uphill from there. Once Sorahiko is confirmed to be thoroughly, passionately agreeable to using violence against All for One, he is more or less folded into the resistance. And before long, the resistance launches an all-out assault on All for One’s base.

Gran Torino is mercilessly placed on the front lines, nearly shoulder to shoulder with the leader (determinedly nameless) and his right-hand man (Sanjuro Yojimbo).

“Easier ways to take me out of the game,” says Sorahiko, checking the suction seals of his gloves. He grimaces at the loosening fit; although his time hadn’t been the best with the daily grind of patrol - villain - paperwork, its miserable characteristics did not hold a candle to the present.

These are lean times.

“Gran Torino, you’re the one who wanted to wear your shining beacon of a costume,” says Sanjuro. The man adjusts his bandana, fussing with fraying seams.

“I wasn’t going to repaint my gloves and boots.”

“And now you’ll attract all sorts of attention,” sighs the leader. The three of them are sharing one last quiet moment, staring at the hastily-scrawled map Sorahiko managed to draw up. Honestly, he has no idea if the resistance would have managed this fight without his help.

They certainly aren’t in any records.

“Sure you won’t tell me your name?” Sorahiko needles. “Dead man’s request.”

“As you like to remind us, it’s hard to kill you,” the leader says. He folds the map into squares, slides it into his jacket, and cracks his neck from side to side. “Send the signal.”

A red flare shoots up into the sky.

Gran Torino, as the fastest, hurtles himself over the gates and dodges the first slew of projectile Quirks. Nothing particularly dangerous, nothing tricky. However much All for One is in his prime, the Quirks of this era are… lacking in potency.

That, or All for One has already snatched the strongest of them up.

He supposes the real nightmare is that All for One’s followers are simply that. Followers, willing to do what the man wants, in broad daylight. Vicious, vindictive, villainous. The civilians can’t fight back, because the ban on public Quirk usage affects them the hardest. The government flounders, still is floundering by the time Gran Torino had hit the streets, so… it makes sense that this resistance appeared to fill the gap.

His entrance into the building is preceded by an unconscious woman’s body, thrown through a window. Presumably, the leader’s gauntlets will blow open the front doors, but once Gran Torino is on the move, he tries not to stop.

“Get him!”

“What the hell is he wearing?”

Gran Torino kicks that commenter in the face. He moves on. One, two, five, ten--there are more guards than he anticipated. Further down: a stairway, a hallway, a large heavy door with a spinning handle attached.

Despite knowing of the smart thing to do (wait for reinforcements), Gran Torino sets on to open this door.

It does not turn easy. But it does turn, and the door does open.

He shoves it, steadies his footing, and braces himself for a surprise attack. The light from the hallway floods into a dark room, and Sorahiko can barely discern a cowering figure on the floor, pale-haired and green-eyed.

“N-nii-san?”

Sorahiko blanches as the sound of an explosion shakes the floor above. He knows of very few people with hair like theirs, and this trembling voice does not sound like All for One. Stumbling back so his shadow doesn’t fall over the other man’s, Sorahiko has a crazy thought: whoever this relative of All for One is, he looks--kind.

“You’re not my brother,” says the man, green eyes going wide. “You--”

“Do you want out?” Gran Torino demands.

“I…”

“This estate is being attacked,” he says, trying to pick his words carefully. Shimura was always better at reassuring terrified civilians, or de-escalating emotional spirals on the verge of a panic attack. “If you need help, then… the people I’m with can provide it.”

“You don’t know who I am.”

Gran Torino exhales, sharp, and stalks into the vault. The man stays on the floor, staring up and up, except his eyes hold less fear and more fascination. They follow Gran Torino as he crouches, and then they skitter to gaze at the outstretched hand.

“I don’t need to know who you are,” Sorahiko says. “I wasn’t sent here to find you. All I know is that you’ve been trapped in this room, guarded by more goons than feasible for a hallway patrol.” He tilts his head. “Makes for easy lines of attack, I gotta say.”

“... Your Quirk?”

“Trade secret,” says Sorahiko simply. He wiggles his fingers. “This is an offer. Get out of jail free card, you could say.”

The man hesitates, but he reaches back, thin fingers ever smaller against the size of Gran Torino’s glove. They curl into a surprisingly strong grip as Gran Torino levers them back up.

“Can you run?”

“I’m not in the best of shape,” says the man, sheepish.

He considers his options. Escorting a malnourished unarmed civilian will turn them both into sitting ducks. Carrying him? That’s doable. It may also deter Sanjuro and the leader from automatically killing the man.

“Ever get motion sickness?”

“Never had the opportunity.”

Gran Torino nods and says, “I can carry you. In my arms or over my shoulder, pick your poison.” Upon seeing the flustered expression bloom, Sorahiko rolls his eyes. The man won’t see; the lenses are opaque. “If it helps, it will be faster if you’re in my arms. I can compensate for the extra weight easier.”

Not that you look like you weigh much, Sorahiko adds silently.

“Whatever works,” says the man, faint, and Gran Torino hooks one twiggy arm around his much broader shoulders and scoops him up off the floor by the knees. He’s right. The man doesn’t weigh much at all. Fingers curl in, grabbing a handful of his cape.

“This’ll work,” he confirms, and turns smartly on his heel to exit the vault. Before Gran Torino reenters the hallway, he stops and warns, “Bodies up ahead.”

The fingers tighten. “You killed them?” the man asks woodenly.

“Mine will wake up with a severe migraine.”

“Ah.”

That’s about as much as Gran Torino’s willing to throw his comrades under the bus. He forges on into the light, picking his way past the fallen unconscious bodies. Being in the past has turned him more cutthroat, but… he’s been hardwired to perform swift knock-outs. For most wannabe villains, getting kicked unconscious once is embarrassing enough to turn them onto milder paths.

Better a shoplifter than a mugger, in Gran Torino’s eyes.

These ‘guards’ had been pretty pathetic. Supposing the resistance doesn’t send a ‘clean-up’ squad, the idiots might be able to turn over a new leaf.

He would use Jet, but the hallway is kind of tight. So Gran Torino is stuck walking until he reaches the stairs, and he tries not to jostle his passenger. This effort does not go unrecognized, a fact Sorahiko realizes when he glances down to check in.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, unsettled by the shining green irises.

It looks uncannily like when Toshinori actually respected Gran Torino, instead of hating him to the point of sending him far into the past.

“You’re a hero,” the man whispers, almost giddy with the naming. “You’ve got to be.”

Sorahiko bites the inside of his cheek. His face feels too warm, a fact that he will have to blame on the floor being heavily insulated. Slowly, to better communicate a disbelief that he doesn’t actually feel, Sorahiko says, “And what makes you think that?”

“Your suit. The cape. A refraining from meting out ‘righteous justice.’” The man layers the sarcasm thick on the last two words, like he’s quoting some egotistical asshole.

“Some villains make the cut,” mutters Gran Torino.

“Exceptions to the rule?”

They’re at the bottom of the staircase. Sorahiko can hear the resistance wrecking shop upstairs, and he is keenly aware that he will be entering the fray with another man in his arms, in a one-person lift more commonly associated with bridal carries.

“When a villain promises to destroy your whole world,” he says, “when they already have destroyed a crucial part of it, with no remorse, no intention to atone... I think…”

This is hardly the time to indulge his grieving heart.

Nevertheless, the man presses his hand against Sorahiko’s chest. Sorahiko, startled, meets those fascinated, fascinating green eyes.

“I hear you,” he says, quiet in his empathy. A quick breath. “My name is Shigaraki Yoichi. It’s nice to meet you…?”

Sorahiko swallows past his trepidation.

“Call me Gran Torino, Yoichi-san,” he says.

#bnha #yoihiko #torino sorahiko #gran torino #shigaraki yoichi #second ofa user #third ofa user #shih.txt #asks #anon #oh what shall we call this...#ofawrecker au #that tag might change in case i ever write a vest!gestorino fic #I DON'T KNOW

32 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Volcanic Love (Taywhora) - Holtzmanns

read on ao3 | word count: 6045

“Oh I was aware, alright,” A’whora purses her lips and for a second, Tayce wonders what it would be like to kiss her. “And you know what I saw?”

Oh Christ, she’ll humour her. “What’d you see, then?”

It’s the response A’whora wants, from the way her eyes gleam. “I saw you peeking at me some type of way. A little pout on your face. You jealous, Tayce? Is that it? You want some attention?”

“Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the love on my other Taywhora oneshot, it made me so happy. Enjoy this one, too - fully a product of Taywhora beginning to occupy my thoughts with no signs of leaving. Title from Volcanic Love by The Aces. Also thank you Writ for betaing and bouncing ideas with me, and Pop for catching any North American slang that may have sneaked in, I appreciate you both ❤️

Tayce isn’t a chicken.

It doesn’t matter what Tia’s said in the past. She’s never had the balls to flirt with Veronica, anyway, she’s the real chicken.

Tayce is just respectful, that’s it. She’s not about to go hit on her best mate in the club, not when they’re going back to the same flat, not when A’whora’s eyes right now are on everyone but her.

Doesn’t matter, anyway. Tayce is here for drinks and to forget about her shitty work week.

Even if A’whora’s talking to a leggy brunette by the barstools. And giggling. And tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Christ.

A tap on Tayce’s arm makes her jump, and Lawrence is looking at her a tad impatiently, gesturing towards the waiting bartender on the other side of the table.

“What d’you want, then? Can’t wait all night while you stare at your woman.”

“She’s not my woman,” Tayce mutters under her breath, trying to ignore the warmth in her cheeks. “Two tequila shots, please and thank you.”

Lawrence raises her eyebrows. “Two already? You that ready to end up with your head in the toilet tonight, are you?”

“Oh, shut it.”

Tayce peeks over again while the bartender prepares their drinks and A’whora’s whispering something into the brunette’s ear, leaning in close to her. Tayce grabs the table just a little bit harder.

She knows that Bimini’s organized this night out for them so that Tayce can finally get her shit together. They’re out far too often as it is, despite graduating uni and beginning adult jobs and working normal hours, but regardless, this evening has a purpose. Not that Tayce wants it to. Her liking for A’whora is clear as day to everyone except for A’whora herself, and part of Tayce wants it to stay that way.

Why ruin it, anyway? They’re friends, best friends at that, and A’whora cares for her and knows all her secrets and is the most important person in the world. Or rather, she knows all of Tayce’s secrets except how much she fancies her.

Tayce clinks her shot glass with Lawrence’s whiskey before she tosses it back, the salt and lime on her tongue straight after enough to start a fresh fire through her veins. Maybe it’s not going to happen, tonight, or ever. Tayce is fine with that, especially when she’s on a night out with her mates and Little Mix is blaring in the DJ’s mix overhead.

That’s all she needs for a good night out.

Ellie pushes through the crowd to reach them, a head taller than everyone else. “Did you get my vodka cran?”

“Course,” Lawrence grins, handing the glass to her. “Even though we both know it tastes like horseshit. You gotta branch out your options, El.”

“Just like you ordering a whiskey every night out like the wee old man you are?” Ellie sticks out her tongue without missing a beat, and Tayce snorts when Lawrence lifts a mock offended hand to her chest.

“Excuse me for having some pride for the homeland. Not about to let the English win around here.” Lawrence tosses her drink back, and the slight wince on her face is just about noticeable.

“Looks divine,” Tayce deadpans, craning her neck towards where A’whora had been standing.

Except she’s not there anymore, and she’s not in the crowd of people either, and-

“She’s coming up behind you, dafty,” Lawrence snickers, and Tayce hardly has a second to retort before a set of arms wraps around her waist.

“Did you miss me?” A’whora’s voice takes on the sing song quality that it always does when she’s a few drinks in, and Tayce has to ignore the way her stomach feels like it’s filling with butterflies.

Because it’s not.

“Kept yourself busy over there, did you?” Tayce gets out, trying her best not to let the bitterness peek through in her voice.

A’whora’s allowed to flirt with whoever she wants. It’s fine, really.

“I love meeting new people, that’s all,” A’whora grins, reaching across Tayce to flag the bartender, “unlike you, you antisocial creature.”

“Lies. I have enough friends already,” Tayce mumbles as A’whora pulls back, the scent of her perfume making Tayce’s breath hitch in her throat.

She needs her second shot.

Tayce tosses it back as A’whora takes a sip of her rum and coke, and the burn of the liquor at the back of her throat isn’t enough to distract her from the way that A’whora wraps her lips around the straw, all round and delicate as not to smudge her lip gloss.

“You’d be a lot less grumpy if you moved away from the bar, y’know,” A’whora says in between sips. “Maybe danced around a bit or something. No more sulking on nights out like you normally do.”

“She really does sulk, doesn’t she?” Lawrence pipes up, another whiskey in hand, and Tayce can’t help but roll her eyes at the pointed tone in her voice.

Lawrence wouldn’t know subtlety if it hit her in the head.

“Come on. We’re all gonna go dance. No more sulking.”

A’whora grabs her hand, and Tayce starts to panic for a second because she’s sure she’s a little bit clammy, but Ellie and Lawrence are following them and maybe Tayce’s brain is running just a little bit too fast for her own good. They end up in the thick of the crowd and it’s sweaty, gross, but it also makes Tayce feel a little nostalgic for uni, when they’d do this too often and end up hungover for class the next afternoon.

The Rihanna that the mix fades into is enough to make Tayce forget about the fact that she’s attracted to her best friend, especially when she’s giggling at Ellie’s attempt to embody the song with her lip-syncing. She joins in at the chorus, and fuck it, there’s nothing on par with screaming out the words to Bitch Better Have My Money with her mates, especially with Lawrence’s rather unmelodic tones.

She does love them.

“Let me squeeze in!”

Bimini’s voice is loud enough to be heard over the music as they pushes themselves in between Lawrence and Ellie, their fur coat miraculously still around their shoulders while balancing a drink in each hand.

“Well there you are!” Lawrence exclaims, and the delight on her face is exactly how Tayce feels, all of her friends together and-

Well, almost all of them. There’s Ellie, and Lawrence, and now Bimini, but where has A’whora gone off to again?

Tayce goes up on her tiptoes, craning her neck because she can’t have gotten that far with the crowds, she has to be near…

Oh.

She’s found a girl to dance up on. Blonde, this time. A lovely sight to see.

The tentative excitement that had been rising in Tayce’s chest bursts like a balloon, the sinking feeling spreading along her insides and pulling her back down to the ground because of course A’whora’s found someone to grind up against and shoot sultry eyes at because she’s good at that, at getting what she wants. It’s fine, it is, because Tayce is having fun watching Lawrence try to rap Taki Taki.

She doesn’t care what A’whora’s doing.

Except that when she peeks over again, A’whora’s crouching down while she dances and she’s got her hands on the girl’s thighs and she’s looking up at her with an expression that can only be described as hungry. And it doesn’t matter that there’s an elbow poking at Tayce’s back, or that the mix overhead weaves in a Beyonce song that she’d normally scream the words to, because right now she’s got tunnel vision, unable to pull her eyes away from A’whora despite the fact that she feels like she’s burning up the longer she does. Despite the ripping in Tayce’s chest and the rushing in her ears, it’s fine, because A’whora’s allowed to do whatever she wants. Tayce is her friend and nothing more, and she’s used to it, she is.

But then A’whora slowly rises up from her crouched position and wraps her arms around the girl’s neck, leaning in to kiss her and Tayce needs to get out of the crowd and off the dance floor.

The club bathroom has suspicious stains on the walls but it’s blissfully empty, a fact that Tayce is thankful for because at least she can lose her mind in private. She doesn’t need anyone else witnessing an absolutely pathetic meltdown over her best friend.

Tayce’s lip colour is smudged when she looks at herself in the dust covered mirror, and she halfheartedly pulls out her lipstick from her clutch to fix it. Not that it matters, when she’ll probably grab a taxi home in a few minutes anyway, because her bed and some sleep will at least help her forget the sight of A’whora practically on her knees.

Once she’s fixed her lipstick, Tayce runs a hand through her hair and lets out a sigh. She’s changed her mind. Going out isn’t so nostalgic anymore. It’s shit.

“You done admiring yourself in the mirror yet?”

“Jesus, fucking-”

Tayce whirls around at the voice and of fucking course A’whora is standing there, her own lipstick a bit smudged and looking too smug for her own good and Tayce hates the way her heart starts to beat just a bit faster.

“Thought you were busy macking on some slag and giving everyone a little front row performance,” Tayce mutters, turning back towards the mirror.

“Oh, so you were watching, then?” A’whora’s voice is positively delighted, and Tayce wants to roll her eyes at the audacity.

“I think people in the nosebleeds could see that even if they didn’t want to. A little careless, no? Nearly shagging on the dance floor?”

Tayce isn’t bitter. She’s not. Not over something this stupid.

“What, are you a nun suddenly preaching chastity and pureness and everything that’s holy? Is that it?” A’whora snickers, not looking fazed in the least as she sidles up to Tayce at the counter.

Tayce scoffs, trying to keep herself from glancing at A’whora in the mirror. “It wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more aware of your surroundings, that’s all.”

“Oh I was aware, alright,” A’whora purses her lips and for a second, Tayce wonders what it would be like to kiss her. “And you know what I saw?”

Oh Christ, she’ll humour her. “What’d you see, then?”

It’s the response A’whora wants, from the way her eyes gleam. “I saw you peeking at me some type of way. A little pout on your face. You jealous, Tayce? Is that it? You want some attention?”

“Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

It’s a lie, a flat out lie but A’whora doesn’t need to know that, not when it highlights how absolutely pathetic Tayce feels for having A’whora fucking notice. A new low for her. She might as well trod home with her tail between her legs at this point, not that it would save her from any embarrassment.

So, she’s going to have to pretend it never even happened.

“I wasn’t, but you did that enough for me,” A’whora murmurs, and Jesus, she’s coming up behind Tayce and looking at her in the mirror with the sultry eyes that are usually reserved for other girls. “I like seeing you all worked up in a tizzy.”

“I’m not worked up,” Tayce breathes out, trying her best to hold on to the semblance of control she has before it smashes into pieces.

“So you wouldn’t mind then, if I went back on the dance floor and found another girl to kiss? You wouldn’t care if I brought someone home and let her have her way with me? You’ll be just fine with that, huh?”

It’s hard to think straight when A’whora’s hands are raking up her sides, when she’s looking at her all smug through the mirror because she knows she’s going to get what she wants, the way she always does.

Maybe Tayce will be weak willed if she gives in. Maybe A’whora’s going to be smug for weeks after, or maybe she’s going to tease her mercilessly because she’s just joking around with her hands at her waist. Except A’whora’s hand is trailing to her ass, and she’s biting her own lip in the mirror and fuck-

She gives in.

Tayce turns around, face to face with A’whora whose eyes widen for just a second before Tayce captures her lips in a biting kiss. The hitch in A’whora’s breath and the way she surges forward is enough evidence that she isn’t joking around.

Good.

Tayce grabs A’whora’s waist and flips their positions, so that she has her up against the counter. It’s funny - she’s thought about kissing A’whora before, too many times for her own good, but a dingy club bathroom with her heart beating out of her chest is not how she’d envisioned it happening.

A’whora’s needy, pawing at Tayce’s waist to try and bring her closer than she already is. Tayce nudges A’whora’s legs apart with her own thigh, trailing a hand up her chest and past her collarbone and neck until she’s cupping her jaw. She pulls back from the kiss and A’whora’s lips are slightly parted as she catches her breath, her eyes alight but a little bit hazy.

“Is this what you’ve wanted all night, then?”

Tayce has to applaud herself for the semblance of calmness in her voice, not betraying the fact that her insides feel like they’re catching on fire, her heart beating faster and faster the longer she’s touching A’whora.

A’whora looks as dazed as Tayce herself feels, her lipstick smudged and her lips parted while she catches her breath. Tayce watches as her eyes flick down to look at her lips then back up again, and she takes a step back because she knows that A’whora’s about to lean in and kiss her again. The whine A’whora lets out is more than gratifying.

“You could have just asked, y’know. Dunno why you’ve got to go and make it so complicated for the both of us,” Tayce murmurs, licking her own lips as she steps in closer again.

It’s as if there’s a string between them that’s been pulled taut all night and on the verge of snapping, except now, Tayce is the one controlling it. And after how she’s been on edge all evening, it’s a welcome reprieve, a familiar feeling that she’s been craving for so long.

“I…” A’whora’s words trail off when Tayce leans forward, pressing a kiss to her neck, and then another that slightly nips at her skin, and it’s all Tayce can do to keep herself from smirking against the corner of her jaw.

Because, of all people, she’s the one having this effect on A’whora. A’whora, who could absolutely be classified as a certified babe magnet. A’whora, who can land any girl that she bloody wants. A’whora, who has been on Tayce’s mind for far too long whenever she slips her hand between her legs in the shower. A’whora, who up until now Tayce has had to push down any semblance of feelings for.

But now Tayce has her in her grasp and it’s verging on the edge of being too much, sending her brain into overdrive if she focuses on it for too long.

So instead, Tayce brings her attention back to A’whora, who gasps when her lips focus on the juncture between her neck and collarbone. There’s no way A’whora’s neck isn’t going to be looking ridiculous after this, between Tayce’s lipstick and the fact that she’s being rather liberal with how much she’s tugging at A’whora’s skin, but A’whora’s hands are fisting in her hair and it’s becoming clear that she’s the type to like it like this.

She brings a hand up to grab one of A’whora’s tits, her thumb tracing over her nipple that’s already beginning to harden through the dress fabric because of course A’whora’s not wearing a bra, cheeky slag she is. The whine that A’whora lets out when Tayce pulls her face back is enough to make her want to squeeze her own legs together but she steels herself, putting on the most confident face she can muster without falling apart.

“More,” A’whora gets out in between sharp breaths for air, and part of Tayce wishes that she could frame this sight, keep it in her mind forever.

Instead, she presses her lips together. “I’m not about to fuck you in the loo, Rory. What sort of slag do you take me for?”

A’whora’s brows press together adorably, and Tayce has to resist the urge to smooth them out for her. “But-”

“Let’s go home.”

They end up in A’whora’s room solely because of the shorter distance from the front door, as compared to Tayce’s at the end of the hallway. Tayce kicks the door closed behind them, watching as A’whora flops herself down on the bed, resting her weight on her elbows.

It’s strange - Tayce has been in A’whora’s room thousands of times before, like when they do their makeup together or watch Netflix while passing a spliff back and forth. But right now, the air in the room feels different, a breeze that makes her hair want to stand on end. Or maybe that’s the effect from the look that A’whora’s shooting her from the bed.

She takes her time as she walks over to the mattress, kicking off her heels once she reaches her. There’s a hair elastic on A’whora’s bedside table and Tayce grabs it, tying her hair into a bun and out of her face before she climbs up on the bed herself, straddling A’whora’s lap in a swift movement.

A’whora’s so pretty like this. Not that she isn’t always, when she’s laughing and her eyes scrunch or when she’s tearing up because of a cute kitten video on Instagram. But there’s something about this sight, when A’whora has her hair spread out on the sheets, her chest rising and falling almost erratically, that Tayce wants to absolutely drink up.

She channels her bravado from the club bathroom as she tucks a lock of A’whora’s hair behind her ear, watching as her eyes flutter. “You getting sleepy on me?”

“Better stop boring me, then,” A’whora squeaks out, and Tayce knows, knows that it’s a bluff, but a small part voice in her brain yells at her to accept it as a challenge.

A’whora wants more? She’ll get more.

Tayce grabs at A’whora’s hipbone and flips her over so that she’s on her stomach, revelling in the gasp that A’whora lets out when her face buries itself in her arms on the mattress. She runs a hand up A’whora’s thigh, over the curve of her ass and can feel a satisfaction blooming in her chest when A’whora pushes back into her touch.

“So impatient, for someone who was a little brat and teasing me all night.”

A’whora lifts her face out of her arms, the pout on her lips so quintessentially her. “Tayce, c’mon.”

“Yeah? You think you deserve it?”

Tayce pushes the edge of A’whora’s dress up, exposing more and more of her thighs and tracing along the soft skin. By the time the skirt is bunched up at her hips and the lace of her thong is exposed, Tayce feels like her mind is going into overdrive. She wants nothing more than to speed up the process and just pull the lace down and make A’whora come as fast as possible, but she forces herself to slow down, enjoy the process. Relish in it.

She tugs upwards on A’whora’s hips until A’whora understands the hint and gets up so that she’s resting on her elbows and knees, ass up in the air. Tayce taps the outside of A’whora’s thigh and she parts her legs, and part of Tayce wonders how she’s still upright and breathing herself.

“Good girl,” Tayce murmurs, because there’s really no wrong time to test out the waters and see what makes A’whora tick.

From the little noise A’whora lets out from the back of her throat, it seems like Tayce is on the right track.

Tayce can’t help herself from cupping A’whora’s ass with her hands, kneading the flesh. “You really do have a nice behind, y’know that?”

“Behind? What are you, my eighty year old nan?” A’whora snickers, and despite herself, Tayce lets out a huff.

“Why am I even about to fuck you?”

“Because you’re drawn in by my ass-ets,” A’whora says, a grin on her face as she wiggles her bum slightly, and Tayce has to roll her eyes.

Despite the idiocy, it’s still hot. Tayce is definitely in too deep. She may as well dial for help now.

Her nails are short but she drags them lightly on A’whora’s skin, watching the goosebumps that rise on the surface. She follows the lace of A’whora’s thong with one hand, reaching between her legs, and shit, A’whora’s already damp through the fabric.

Not that Tayce isn’t herself, but that’s another story.

She anchors her other hand on A’whora’s hip as she traces her fingers along the lace, and she can feel a smile spreading on her face when A’whora lets out a little whine. Part of Tayce’s brain feels like it’s still in disbelief, waiting for her to wake up from a particularly saucy dream in which she ends up in her flatmate’s bed with said flatmate a mess beneath her with the sheets bunched up between her fingers. All the pining and the ‘sexual tension,’ in Lawrence’s words, coming to a head feels surreal, almost on par with seeing a dragon in their backyard or with Ellie actually being shorter than someone for once.

But she’s here, and A’whora’s here and fidgeting in the sheets and Tayce needs to stop getting bizarrely tender about hooking up with her flatmate.

It’s easier to push A’whora’s knickers to the side rather than to pull them off entirely, especially when she’s already shaky on her knees. Tayce traces along A’whora’s folds, the wetness that coats the pads of her fingers making her feel dizzy, and A’whora pushes back against her touch, a moan in the back of her throat.

“What, are you waiting for someone to make a speech or something? C’mon.”

Tayce has to grin at the gumption. A’whora’s never been one to hold back what she’s thinking. “See, I would, but you didn’t say please.”

“Fucking bitch,” A’whora groans, dropping her face back into her hands, and Tayce takes the opportunity to still two of her fingers near A’whora’s entrance, not quite pushing in the way she wants.

“Still didn’t hear a please, though.”

“Ugh. Please. You absolute hound,” A’whora grumbles, but her words cut off in a gasp when Tayce decides to give in, pushing in a finger, then another when A’whora spreads her legs apart just a little more.

A’whora’s one of the more responsive girls she’s ever had sex with, already trying to rock back against her when Tayce curls her fingers. It makes Tayce want to give her more, so as much as her wrist is complaining when she maneuvers her position so that she can circle around her clit with her thumb, she keeps at it. Speeds up when A’whora starts to drip down onto her palm.

“God, I…” A’whora gasps, and Tayce can feel the way she’s squeezing around her fingers and it’s hot, A’whora’s fucking hot and so close to the edge and there’s no way Tayce is going to stop now for anything.

Tayce leans down and presses a kiss to A’whora’s shoulder blade, the motions of her hand unforgiving as she keeps up her pace without slowing, and the contrast between the two is almost striking.

“You close, baby?”

She can see the way A’whora’s back muscles are tensing, the way her face drops into her hands as her legs get more unsteady and she drinks it all in, committing it to memory because fuck, she’s had a lot to drink tonight but there’s no way she’s gonna forget a second of this. Not when A’whora is the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen.

A’whora can’t kill Tayce for leaving marks on her back if she can’t see them - it’s flawless logic, really. But it’s enough reason for Tayce to pay attention to the ripple of A’whora’s muscles, the heat emanating from her skin when she kisses and nips because she can’t help herself, A’whora’s back a canvas that isn’t going to stay empty for too long.

Tayce doesn’t dare change her pace, not when A’whora’s squeezing around her and her muscles are tensing and her breaths are coming in little gasps that are somehow endearing. She ignores the burning in her forearm, the way she’s worked up a sweat of her own because A’whora’s eyes are squeezed shut, and the noise in the back of her throat cuts off on a raggedy gasp for breath.

“Fuck, ah, shit-”

A’whora’s whimpering, her face buried in her arms and her legs squeezing Tayce’s hand in a death grip as her knees finally give out in a heap on the mattress. Tayce wipes her fingers on the back of A’whora’s still shaking thighs as she pulls her hand back, pressing a kiss to her hipbone before she turns her onto her back as carefully as she can.

There’s something to be said for a post-orgasm A’whora, from how her chest is rising and falling to the way she has an almost dopey smile on her face that she covers with the back of her hand.

“C’mere,” A’whora mumbles, holding out a hand with grabby motions and Tayce snorts, crossing her arms.

“Postcoital A’whora is a cuddler. Who knew?”

“M’not cuddling,” A’whora pouts, reaching for Tayce’s arm. “I wanna get on top now.”

Tayce yelps when A’whora tugs on her elbow, bracing her hands against the mattress and catching herself on top of her just in time. “You, a top? That’s a thought.”

“Hey!” A’whora whines, wiggling underneath her. “It’s my turn.”

Tayce has to hold back a laugh. “You sound like a child waiting for their go on the swings.”

But then A’whora pushes on Tayce’s hipbone and nudges her leg against her inner thigh and Tayce isn’t sure, really, how A’whora ends up on top of her, though the grin on her face is adorably triumphant.

“Ha! See, I’m strong,” A’whora preens, tossing her hair over her shoulder as her thighs bracket Tayce’s hips and as much as Tayce wants to roll her eyes, she has to admit the sight is kind of hot.

Especially when A’whora licks her lips as her gaze drags down Tayce’s body, a lioness who’s finally gotten her prey. A lioness with highlighter on her cheekbones and a slinky dress that’s still bunched up at her hips.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long, y’know that?” A’whora whispers the words centimeters away from Tayce’s ear, raking a hand through her hair and she can feel the way it makes goosebumps rise on her skin.

Not that Tayce is one to let her facade drop so easily. “Oh, yeah? Why’re you always out there kissing other girls, then?”

She still hasn’t forgotten the sight of A’whora grinding up on some girl on the dance floor. Or how badly she wanted it to be her.

A’whora blinks at her. “How else was I supposed to go and get your attention? It worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re a cheeky little hound, aren’t you?” Tayce snorts, shaking her head against the sheets.

Christ.

Really, A’whora’s not wrong. It had certainly gotten her attention, alright, made her stomach turn and need to leave the dance floor before she had a full on crisis while the beat dropped.

A’whora tsks, a smug smile alighting her features. “And yet, you still have those puppy dog eyes for me.”

“I do not-”

Tayce’s half hearted protest is cut off when A’whora presses her lips to hers, licking into her mouth. It’s bullshit and she knows it, A’whora does too, but it doesn’t matter, not when A’whora’s grinding her hips down onto her and moving her kisses to her jaw and her neck.

A’whora’s not one to waste any time, dragging her nails past Tayce’s collarbone and chest and soothing her path with kisses before she pushes Tayce’s dress straps off of her shoulders, beckoning her forward to pull on her zipper. Tayce follows without question, lifting her hips so that A’whora can tug the dress from underneath and off her legs.

Being flatmates means that they’ve seen each other in various states of undress before - when they’re trying on clothes they’ve just bought, when they’re lounging around the flat in their bras when it’s too bloody hot that one month during that one month a year London becomes a fucking sauna. But the purposeful nature with which A’whora traces a hand up Tayce’s inner thigh, her eyes lingering on the lace on her hips and the straps along her ribs, feels worlds away from those times. Tayce has to resist the urge to cross her arms, pull the sheets up on herself, because the way A’whora’s eyes are widened and her mouth is slightly parted makes no real sense when her brain tries to compute it.

A’whora pushes down on Tayce’s shoulder until she’s laying back against the cushions and winks before she resumes her path downwards, pressing biting kisses along her ribs and above her hip bone that make Tayce draw a breath in between her teeth. A’whora’s touch is delicate when she tugs on the lace sitting in the crease of Tayce’s thigh, pulling the thong down her legs and throwing it on the ground to follow the dress.

“My turn,” A’whora grins as she pushes Tayce’s legs apart, and Tayce feels like she’s going to pass out before A’whora’s even gone and done anything.

A’whora takes her time, trailing a path with her lips past Tayce’s calves, her knees, up her inner thighs, in the crease by her hip bone. Tayce tugs on her hair, a cue to speed up her pace but A’whora falters for only a second, a flutter of her eyes before looking up at Tayce, shaking her head.

“No rushing.”

“Mmh-”

Tayce’s protest cuts off when A’whora drags her tongue up her slit ever so slowly, the contact not enough in the least but also the first she’s gotten so far, which makes it feel almost like a welcome reprieve. A’whora pushes her thighs further apart, looking up with her with eyes that draw her in as her tongue traces a path around her clit, not quite giving her the relief she needs.

“Don’t tease,” Tayce gasps, her hands involuntarily tightening their grip in A’whora’s hair, and A’whora lets out a moan into her cunt in response which Tayce has to file away as the hottest fucking thing she’s ever heard.

A’whora trades her earlier motions for circling Tayce’s clit, and Tayce doesn’t even care at this point if the rest of their flatmates are home and can hear them, because A’whora’s good. Better than good. She’s going to get Tayce there embarrassingly fast and Tayce is sure that she’ll brag about it later, but it doesn’t even matter at this point, not when Tayce’s brain is this hazy and she can feel her own breaths becoming more and more shallow.

There are half moon indents where A’whora’s nails are digging into Tayce’s thighs as her movements speed up, and Tayce can feel the familiar sensation building in her core and god, she’s so fucking weak for A’whora. She looks so hot like this, her face between Tayce’s thighs and Tayce feels like she could come from the sight in front of her alone.

But Tayce instead pulls oxygen from around the room into her lungs, forcing herself to breathe as her hips begin to lift themselves from the mattress and she’s so damn close to tipping over the edge. “Fucking hell, just like that.”

A’whora’s pace is steady as she looks up at her, a glint in her eyes that doesn’t waver when Tayce’s hands wind into her hair, pulling her impossibly closer. Something about the confidence in A’whora’s gaze, the way she’s unwavering with her movements is enough to finally push Tayce over the edge and fuck, the sensations are all too much but also what she’s been craving, waiting for the entire evening, and it’s perfect.

A’whora’s committed, her tongue still making circles around her clit, albeit slower but it’s enough to make Tayce’s ribcage rise and fall all jaggedly, sucking in air that can’t fill her lungs soon enough. She pushes A’whora’s face away from between her legs when it becomes too much, hiding a mewl behind her palm but it doesn’t even matter, not when A’whora’s wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and looking like she’s a cat who’s just gotten the cream.

“Shut up,” Tayce mutters, but there’s no malice behind it, not when A’whora’s smile reaches her eyes and Tayce can’t help but reach out, stroke her cheek with her thumb.

A’whora leans into her touch and Tayce’s heart glows in her chest, lighting up hopes that maybe, just maybe, this doesn’t have to be a one off. Tayce isn’t that smashed anymore and A’whora doesn’t look like it either, but it doesn’t feel awkward for Tayce to scoot down on the bed, avoiding the wet patch to lay down beside A’whora when she pats the sheets with her palm.

A’whora’s grinning that cheeky smile that she does when she’s doing a bit and laughing at her own jokes, an expression that Tayce has seen far too often. “Why don’t you just stay the night, yeah? The commute back to yours would take too long. It’s not safe at this hour, really.”

“As if my room isn’t just down the hall.”

A’whora shrugs as she drapes an arm across Tayce’s midsection, shuffling to get closer to her. “See? Much too far. May as well stay here at this point.”

“Very compelling argument, I have to say,” Tayce can’t help but smile, and putting her arms around A’whora’s waist when she snuggles into her feels so normal, so them.

Yeah, A’whora’s half on her lap for movie nights anyway because they’re the only two who enjoy strawberry laces as a snack and they have to share the packet but now they’re snuggling, actually snuggling and Tayce doesn’t feel like running for the hills. Maybe because it’s A’whora, her best friend who knows when she’s annoyed and trying to hide it, the one who knows her coffee order down to the almond milk.

Tayce presses a kiss to the top of A’whora’s head because she can, and the contented sigh that A’whora lets out is enough to bloom the seeds of longing in her chest into strings of ivy that don’t ever want to let her go. She can’t, not anymore, not when she’s seen A’whora come apart but also sees A’whora now, nearly falling asleep on her chest with eyes that she can barely keep open.

She’s so beautiful.

And Tayce is so, absolutely fucked.

Maybe she’ll work out how to properly win A’whora over in the morning, and keep this from being something as stupid as a one night stand because Tayce doesn’t want that, or feel like she can handle the two of them only having something so fleeting. She needs A’whora around as more than just a best friend or a flatmate that always brings home fresh flowers for the kitchen table. The reminder is almost calming, in a way, running through her veins and a part of her after years of attempting to push the thoughts out of view.

Tayce can’t continue to bury the feelings in the farthest corners of her mind anymore, not with A’whora in her arms like this and having it actually mean something. No more pining. She’s going to promise herself.

Maybe she can ask A’whora out properly when they wake up, if she has the guts for it. That is, after asking for a round two first.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #taywhora #tayce #a'whora #uk2 #smut #lesbian au #holtzmanns

30 notes · View notes

vancilocs · 3 years

Note

Ive got a headache so im not gonna read every single option presented so top half for fuckerswoods wolf vampire hunter polycule aaand neja and yecal (or dana and hecca if neja and tecal have been answered for this already)

have a paracetamol and a lay down xx

1. Who's the one who's reckless and always getting into trouble while the other gotta pull em out

If anyone gets into trouble it's Kältre, but the others keep him so well in check that if he's even thinking of sneaking into the forest during new moon Soren will either go along or pull him back by the hood

2. Who's the one to send the other "I love my gf/bf" memes

Nanoha would send pictures of piles of cats cuddling and just go that's us!

3. Who's the one who listens to a music genre the other doesn't like and how does the other react

They all play well together, nobody hates the music the other listens to

4. Which one spoils the other more and do they ever get competetive to show the other more love

Everyone is very spoiled with four pairs of hands on them, nobody gets left out so it doesn't become a competition

5. How many years did it take to get married or was it just not for them

Given how open their relationship was in the beginning nobody really considered marriage, and now it would just be such a hassle with five people

6. Is their friends/family supportive

It's... a little weird to them but hey, everyone's happy and the relationship works so why not. If anything, Soren's family is weirded out by him shacking up with a vampire and Striga's parents being likewise mistrustful of a werewolf

7. How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying

In wildly different ways, ranging from Kältre arming himself to kill a bitch and Nanoha starting to make soup. Virve and Striga are the types to hug or hold hands if allowed and ask what's wrong, Soren is the type to just hug. One of the five starts crying and there's a swarm of comfort around immediately

8. Which one dissociates

Striga and Soren tend to during new moon/full moon respectively, best to just leave them to lay in bed for the day bc their energy is at 0

9. Which one stares at the other's booty like "damn" and how does the other react when catching them

Nanoha and Striga are a bit flustered, Virve and Kältre like it, Soren is indifferent. All do look at butts tho

10. When they live together what kinda place do they live in? What does their home look like?

It's an old hunting hut that was converted to a living space by Virve's family when she moved in with Kältre, it's kinda small for five people but it's cozy, it's warm, it's pretty cluttered and one of the corners has been turned into a mattress/pillow/blanket/fur pile that fits all five

11. What do their dates look like

Walks in the forest, grabbing some food and walking to a meadow or stream to eat, going for a swim, going to the nearby village for a drink, staying home when the three others are gone and enjoying peace and quiet for a while

12. How does each act when getting drunk

Kältre gets loud and clumsy, Soren gets sleepy and cuddly, Virve also kinda loud but less so than Kältre, Nanoha gets giggly and sloppy and has to be looked after, Striga barely drinks because it hits her so hard, she gets emotional and very clumsy

13. Which one rolls over in the morning to wake up the other one just to give them a kiss

Striga and Nanoha give kisses but don't wake the others up, Virve will wake them up if it's almost noon and it's time to get your butt out of bed

14. Have they saved each other's lives before

Striga is fairly sure she would have made it out of the blizzard during new moon if by just huddling under a rock, but Soren finding her and bringing her to a warm spot didn't do any harm for sure

15. Does one have an interest the other thinks is weird but wants to listen to it regardless

Not really, whatever little crafts they do is something the others are always interested in and willing to hear about

16. Which one uses cropped hentai as reaction images

Virve and Kältre, and Nanoha uses one by mistake and Kältre informs her that it's from a hentai and she goes and how did you know that you wee cunting man

17. Does one of them kinkshame the other

Nanoha thinks Virve and Kältre have too much interest in Soren's werewolf and Striga's full vampire forms

18. Is one of them self conscious about their body? If so how does the other comfort them

Not really, Striga is a lil ashamed about her cold hands and feet sometimes but it's fine to the others, put on some woolly socks and put your hand on Virve's tiddy, it's soft and warm

19. What kinda joyrides do they go on? Relaxing ones or wild ones?

Soren agrees one time to let Kältre sit on his back and come along to a proper werewolf hike, very very wild ride

20. Where would they vacation for a honeymoon

No time for vacations, the grind never stops --------------

21. Do people ever get annoyed of their PDA

Honestly sometimes yeah, hands off his tiddies for once woman

22. Would they live in the city of the country

They live in the city, Neja grew up in a city too so it's comfortable for her

23. Are either of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope

Not really? I can believe Yecal having some kind of PTSD from some events but nothing very severe. Neja will cuddle and pet feathers if needed

24. Does one have a spot on them where they would melt when the other kisses them there

General tender spots for Neja are the sides, inner thighs, neck, nothing unusual

25. Do they dance together

Neither really knows how to dance but it doesn't stop them

26. Do they sing together

Ditto, it's not super pretty but they have fun

27. Which one is better at cooking than the other and makes most the dinners

They are both alright at cooking, Neja makes some mean spicy noodles and Yecal some proper sauce, if one is running late from work then the other can have food ready just fine

28. Are they a reckless couple or safe

They began as very reckless but have toned it down a lot for each other

29. What be they kinks and do they try each other's kinks

Yecal gets pegged

30. What would their Valentine's gifts be to each other

Neja with a ribbon on her boobs (maybe some wine if she wants to splurge, some candy), she enjoys flowers and candy and wine herself

31. Do they get into fights often? If so what do they fight over and how do they make up

Not often, if anything it's small arguments about money of if Yecal tried to fix something he doesn't know how to and made a mess when Neja was gone. They make up with kisses and hugs every time though, nobody stays mad for long

32. Which one's top, bottom, verse

They switch flawlessly, sometimes a small girl wants to be small girl and sometimes she wants to ram her husband into the mattress yanno

33. Who would fight in honor for the other if someone would insult them

Yecal will defend Neja in anything, she needs to be held back also because she do be smol

34. Which one has a favorite movie that they have the other watch with them again and again

If either then Neja

35. Do they want kids

Nah, neither dislikes them but they don't want any of their own. They struggle keeping a houseplant alive so no way they would have a kid

#striga: this is the skin of a killer virve #virve: hawt #long oc thing #listen when you're a pastel princess clocking at 5ft and 100lbs it's hard to take your anger seriously #then she will bite

6 notes · View notes

hihellogoodbyebruh · 4 years

Text

Just Me and You - Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Pairing: Rio Alvarez x Black!Plus size!Oc

Summary: Simone Dunn is a singer just trying to live her best life and make it through the obstacles that have been put in front of her. Living life in the city isn’t always easy. Life might be kicking her in the ass presently, but she kept a smile on her face regardless. Rio Alvarez is all about his business. He’s expanding up and out of just the money laundering business. He wanted it all. He was hooked from the second he heard her voice, but will her past and his enemies let them be together?

Warning(s): None really. It’s a meet-cute. They meet, it’s cute.

Word count: 2,026

Author’s Note: I’m not gonna lie, this story means a lot to me. I was never sure if I’d start posting it or not. Simone has been an OC of mine for a long time now and when the idea to pair her with Rio popped into my mind I knew it could be something very special. I hope you all enjoy the journey. As always questions, comments, and concerns are welcome! Might even start a tag list but we’ll see. Thanks for reading. xo

Rio stared out of the window, looking out at his investment. It had the perfect eye line for all the exits and it had the best view of the stage. Since he began flipping his game and moving up in the world he became acquainted with folks that had different tastes than him. The opportunity to invest in this club kind of fell in his lap. His new co-owner was a sloppy prick, but Rio couldn’t deny the club was bringing in a nice grip of money for him. He liked the anonymity of being a silent partner. Every two weeks he’d roll through, check up on the club, and collect some cash to put into his other businesses.

As he looked down at all the club goers, he was pleased to see the place was pretty packed. He was not happy to see the owner, Shaun, with two women on his arm. This wasn’t a social hour. He was here for business. Mick, his right hand man, was guarding the door and hadn’t moved an inch to let Shaun in.

“Hey man. Place is poppin tonight right?” Shaun greeted Rio as he tried to maneuver past Mick who only moved at Rio’s nod. “Enjoying your night? These are a couple lady friends of mine. Say ‘hi’ ladies.”

“Hi.” The two girls parroted at Rio, waving at him.

Rio didn’t bother greeting the women. “Get rid of the bitches man.”

“What?” Shaun asked, his tone confused.

“I ain’t gonna tell you twice.” Rio’s face hadn’t changed. He just stared Shaun down.

Shaun cleared his throat and whispered something to the ladies before they shuffled back out of the room. It was quiet except for the sound of the music pumping through the speakers.

“My bad man. They were sexy as hell though right? Can you really blame me?” Shaun tried to excuse, a smile on his face as he walked over to where Rio was standing.

As soon as he was within arms reach, Rio gripped the back of his neck tightly and pulled him close. He stared directly in his eyes. “Don’t ever bring nobody to one of our meetings again. I choose to keep you on, but that can easily be changed. Get my money and stop fucking playing with me.”

Shaun merely nodded and Rio let go of him. Shaun tried adjusting his suit and cleared his throat. He walked over to the wall that was furthest from the window and opened a panel in the door. He put the code into the panel and opened it up. There was a silver case inside that he pulled out before closing the door back. “Business has been better than ever. I was able to add a permanent residency here that has us packed every week. We may even be able to up prices a bit.”

Rio’s eyebrow quirked in interest at the man’s words. “Permanent residency?”

Shaun had set the case on the table and Mick opened it, starting to count the money that was inside. Rio walked closer to take a look inside and noticed that there seemed to be a couple more stacks than usual.

“Yeah. I’m still having different live performers come in, but people also like consistency. They like knowing they’re coming to hear quality music. And the pipes on this one? Massive. Doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous too.”

Rio would never admit it but he was definitely intrigued. “Who is she?”

Shaun walked back over to the window and smirked as he looked down. “Simone Dunn. Lucky for you, you came at the perfect time.”

Rio noticed the club music had shut off and people were clapping. As he walked to stand next to Shaun, a slow instrumental was playing. A soft spotlight appeared on the stage and the crowd’s clapping intensified. A giggle was heard over the mic.

“Aww, y’all are too good to me.” The woman’s voice was clear as day, but had an alluring quality. She had big black hair falling over her shoulders in waves. Her dress was pink and it gave a tantalizing view of her breasts as well as her full figure. Her skin was creamy brown and the outline of her ass was particularly appealing to Rio.

“We’re starting off grown and sexy tonight y'all. So if you’re vibing with someone, gon’ head and pull ‘em a little closer. I’m just tryna help y’all possibly end the night on a good note, if you know what I mean.” She winked at the crowd and people laughed as others hollered and whistled.

A familiar beat reached Rio’s ears, taking him back to house parties in his old neighborhood. He remembered talking slick to a fine girl as she danced on him, knowing she was gon let him fuck by the end of the night.

I'll always think of you Inside of my private thoughts I can imagine you Touching my private parts And just the thought of you I can't help but touch myself That's why I want you so bad Just one night of

The sultry sound of her voice traveled from Rio’s ears straight to his dick. He watched as her hips moved side to side as she gripped the mic stand. She was a temptress, an enchantress. Hell, she was a siren and her song was the one calling him home. Home being the absolute treasure he was sure is hiding between her thighs.

Can't get my mind off you I think I might be obsessed The very thought of you Makes me want to get undressed I want to be with you In spite of what my heart says I guess I want you too bad All I want is

Her eyes were locking onto different people in the crowd. She was working her magic on everyone. People were partnered up and there was lots of grinding happening on the dance floor. As she looked around, her eyes happened to dart up and land on his. She looked taken aback, but curious. She never once stopped singing and now it seemed like she was singing the words directly to him.

“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Shaun asked, but Rio ignored him. His eyes were still locked with Simone’s as she sang. A smile pulled at her lips and her cheeks felt hot so she pulled her eyes away from him to look back toward the crowd. She missed the quick smile that appeared on Rio’s face before he turned his back to the window.

“Have you had any trouble here? Fights? Anyone tryna shake you down?” Rio asked Shaun, who looked perplexed by the sudden topic shift.

“No. I would have called you right away. Like I said, things have been great. Should I be worried or on the lookout?” Shaun asked, his tone taking on a nervous quality.

“Nah, man. Just looking out for my investment. Enjoy your night with your lady friends.” Rio dismissed the other man and Shaun took the exit without hesitation.

“You think they know you got dealings in this place?” Mick asked, once Shaun was gone.

“No, but you can never be too careful.” Rio replied, eyes drifting back toward the stage. She had begun singing a new song. Something a bit more fast paced. “I wanna keep this place as legit as possible. We need something clean in case we run into some trouble. But I aint scared of them. I’ll deal with ‘em when the time’s right.”

Mick merely nodded his head as he finished up the count.

“Everything square?” At Mick’s confirmation, Rio walked over to him. “Go ahead and take everything back to the warehouse. Imma stay and check things out for a bit. Have a drink. I’ll call you in the morning.”

Rio headed down to the bar and got himself a shot of brandy. He nursed his drink as he finished listening to the performance going on. He was in the middle of texting some associates to set up meetings for the next week when applause broke out all around him. He looked up to see Simone walking towards the bar, blowing kisses as she went.

“Ji, baby! Please get me one last malibu pineapple and I’ll love you forever.” She exclaimed, taking a seat one away from Rio. He was watching her interaction with the bartender.

“You better already love me.” The bartender, Ji-hoon, retorted even as he went about making her drink.

“You know I do boo.” She winked, a wide grin on her face. “In fact, I love you so much that I’m leaving you a big tip tonight.”

“Are you trying to buy me? Cause I’m absolutely up for sale.” He smiled, sliding her drink over to her as he leaned on the bar. He glanced over at Rio and nodded his head towards him. “Hey, you need to be topped off?”

“Yeah, man.” Rio answered and Simone finally noticed him sitting there. Ji poured Rio another drink before getting distracted on the other side of the bar by other paying customers.

Simone made eye contact with him before looking down at her drink and swishing the glass around.

“You have a beautiful voice, mama.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” She looked up at him with a smile on her face.

“Interesting choice of song too. I know a couple people here gotta be happy about the assist you gave them.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Anything for my fans.”

“Anything?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Within reason.” She quickly added.

“So you’ll let me buy your drink, then.”

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow and she turned around in her stool to face him, legs crossed and her silver heels shining. “So you’re a fan?”

“I am now.”

“I’ve had an open tab all night and I just promised Jian a big tip.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, and her eyes narrowed.

“And what do you want in return for so graciously picking up my tab?”

A smirk appeared on Rio’s face and he slid one bar stool over to be closer to her. Their eyes never left one another. “I’d love to have a conversation with one of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Her lights lit up in surprise and delight at his words. That soft smile of hers, returning to her face. “I guess I could swing that. So what’s your name?”

“It’s Rio, sweetheart. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Rio….I like it. I see you’re familiar with Shaun. Y’all friends or something?”

“Or something.” He answered, taking a sip of his drink.

“Or something. That’s not mysterious at all.” She joked.

“I aint no mystery baby. What you see is what you get.”

She snorted. “That’s what they all say.”

“Who?”

“Boys.” She retorted, finishing her drink.

“I’m all man and I’d love to demonstrate just how much of a man I am.”

She looked back over to him and there was a delicious smirk on his face. No one man should be able to look like that. It’s too much power. “Tempting, but I have plans.”

“At 2 in the morning?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Is that judgment I hear in your tone Mr. ‘I-Can’t-Say-How-I-Know-Shaun?’”

Rio had to chuckle. “You got me there.”

She checked her phone and sighed at the time. “I gotta go, but it was nice meeting you Rio. Hope to see you again.” She then asked Ji-hoon to hand her the bag that was hidden behind the bar.

“You will.” He asserted, wondering why she didn’t use the employee lockers he remembered being installed. The thought was erased from his mind by her leaning into his personal space. His hand immediately went to her waist and his fingers grazed the top of her ass.

“I’m counting on it.” She whispered in his ear, before walking away and waving at a couple people as she went. He watched her the whole time and it wasn’t until she reached the exit that she turned her head to look back at him. He knew he had her.

#rio good girls #good girls rio #black!oc #rio x black!oc #black!reader #rio x black reader #rio x plus size!reader #just me and you #hhgbyebruh fics

155 notes · View notes

ragnarachael · 4 years

Text

Battle Of Wit

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Word Count: 3,053

Summary: Stephen realizes after your most recent battle that he can't lose you, no matter the circumstance. He's just... terrible at expressing his feelings properly.

Author’s Ramblings: thank the single cup of coffee i drank that drove me this fucking wild to write all of this at 3 am the other day,, i really owe it to u Folgers Coffee (and lest we forget the OBCR album of Natasha, Pierre, and The Great Comet of 1812 for being there for me to scream)

Warnings: kinda angsty at the beginning,, but then soft!!! you just gotta push through the fighting!!

MASTERLIST ! FEEDBACK ! AO3 LINK

“I had it under control—”

“No, you didn’t, actually,” Stephen seethed, cutting you off smoothly as he opened a portal that led into one of the Sanctum’s rooms that was designated to hold the Eye of Agamotto. “You didn’t have anything under control.”

You scoffed as you walked through the static ring, Stephen soon following after you before the portal snapped shut. He was quick to send his cloak flying off his shoulders to the door that was open leading into the New York Sanctum, walking ahead of you to properly place the Eye where it belonged.

So what, you’d gotten in on his fight? Sure you ended up with a few scratches and bruises, but you won, didn’t you?

“I think you’ll find I did, Stephen. Who was the one who was out of commission because they were helping Wong?”

You knew it was a low blow, but you’re trying to make a point here.

Stephen turned his head to look at you over his shoulder, letting his gaze zero in on your form. “I had it. I just had to get Wong to help with a—”

“You can make all the excuses you want!” You exclaimed, holding your arms out in exasperation. “You just don’t want to admit that I helped you out.”

You watched Stephen tense up as he turned his head back to the task he had in front of him. The Eye was officially off of his body and in his hands, held in mid-air as he stopped placing it on it’s small podium to hear you speak.

“Me, someone with mediocre skills in the Mystic Arts but exceptional skill with defeating arrogant, asshole doctor’s who don’t seem to know how to admit they need help.”

The laugh that Stephen was emitting made your stomach twist with fear, but you stood your ground. Your words and his laughter lingered between you two for a long time as he took his time placing the Eye on it's small podium. You tried to brace yourself for what was to come.

You knew what you did was stupid. You've understood that at this point, having the guilt start to claw its way up to your throat to take back what you said. But you had to keep reminding yourself that you were also right. Yes, you were running on pure adrenaline when you finished the fight—which you didn't expect to do. Your hand is still pulsating with pain from the final blow for chrissakes! You're shocked you even put some of your fighting to use—

"If I needed help out there," Stephen started lowly, finally turning to face you completely. His jaw was clenched tightly due to his rising anger, you assumed. He looked... terrifying in this moment. You know you shouldn't feel this way about your significant other ever in a relationship - but this wasn't a normal relationship. "I would have asked."

His voice was almost like cleaning your wounds. Painful, stinging pain that made you flinch the second it touched the open skin. Almost like you were grinding salt into it.

Stephen wasn't happy. Not at all.

"Really? You would have?" You questioned rhetorically. "Because out there, just 20 minutes ago, you didn't."

"Because I needed Wong to do the spell to finish Doom off!" Stephen shouted. You couldn't help but take few steps back, squaring your shoulders as you took a deep breath. Stephen watched you closely as you stopped to breathe before he just let out a harsh sigh and let his hands run through his hair.

His hands stopped shy of the top of his head to tug at the roots slightly.

"I needed Wong for the spell. I had to step away, that's why I knocked him down. Then you—" Stephen pointed at you accusingly while his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose "—you came in and beat him to a pulp! I'm not saying that I wasn't grateful, as a matter of fact, it was amazing. But you can't just do that!"

"And why not?" You shot back, your own voice starting to rise in volume. "Why can't I? I was saving your ass. Do you want me to just let you get killed?!"

"No, but—"

"He had already blocked your powers once in the fight, Stephen," you seethed, keeping your hands balled tightly at your sides. "What could you have done then?"

You watched Stephen try to find the words to reply before you held your hand up in front of your neck, making a sort of cutting motion in front of it, "nothing. Not even your hands would be able to help you then. I don't even know what Wong's capable of, but we both know he was out of commission after Doom hypnotized him. I was the last resort. I was the one who had to do something to be sure we all didn't end up fucking dead in the Mirror Dimension!"

Your throat ached once you were finished shouting, overworked easily from the emotion that's been bubbling inside of you since you stepped foot in the Sanctum. The tension was thick enough between the two of you to cut it with a knife. You hated these moments with Stephen. You truly did, but the idea of Stephen dying in the hands of Victor von Doom was enough nightmare fuel to keep you up for a few nights for sure. You didn't need to question that.

Taking in a deep breath you tried to calm down the stinging in your eyes, tears threatening to spill over your waterline.

"If you're going to blame me for saving you, then fine. Whatever. But do not think for a second—" you stopped momentarily to try and steady your voice, swallowing thrice before continuing "—that I'd just sit in the sidelines and let you and our friend die."

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, ignoring the searing pain from your wounds you'd sustained from the fight as your face contorted. Stephen wasn't even looking at you now. He was looking at the ground, jaw still clenched. It was like he was thinking. He reminded you of a character in a video game who has been left idle while the player went out of the room to get something. Regardless, you knew you somehow got through to him. If Wong weren't back at Kamar-Taj getting taken care of after being taken over by Doom's power, he would be on your side. You knew he would, because he wasn't as stubborn as your lover. He knew when to admit defeat, and wouldn't be determined to do it himself.

"You're not alone, Stephen," you started slowly, gently. A few careful steps towards him made you realize that his anger had dissipated a substantial amount. "You can ask for help. I would be there in a heartbeat."

Stephen all but twitched when you finally decided it was okay to place a gentle hand on his forearm that had the fabric of his robes clinging to him.

It was in this moment you realized that the battle was one of the hardest the three of you had attempted to date. None of you had been prepared for Victor von Doom in the slightest. You were flying blind for the most part. Hell, Stephen and Wong didn't even know about Doom's ability to successfully perform mind transference until it happened.

"You.. You..." Trying to find the words you were wanting to say started to become hard. You were quiet for a while after you said that, trying to pick apart your brain to actually speak. "You can pass the weight of the world on your shoulders to me. To Wong. We've both signed up for this Mystic Arts gig just like you."

Stephen stayed silent. You didn't blame him. Now that your anger has dissipated, you really dug into him and the guilt that was absent from your throat had returned in full force.

Regret, you realized. That's what you were feeling. Stephen was a capable sorcerer. He was so goddamn smart, he knew what he was doing. Well, for the most part. You do think what you had done was necessary in the end still, since Doom was already getting back up on his feet as Stephen tried to see how to help Wong.

But everything you'd said definitely felt as if you were belittling Stephen.

You let out a wet laugh, the tears you were holding finally making it past your waterline dreadfully fast. You were just as quick to sniffle and wipe the tears with the heel of your hand, reminding yourself to breathe.

"Could you say something, maybe? I... I feel like I've been talking to a brick wall for the past few minutes, honey."

The nickname is what pulled Stephen out of his... whatever it was. His eyes looked how they usually did when he started crying—glassy, red-rimmed and swollen with tears that had been rolling down his cheeks freely.

You've seen Stephen like this few times in your relationship. And in this moment? You thought it was because of you. Your words you used in the heat of the fight, cutting the man you loved—which you have never openly admitted—deep enough to make tears pull from his tear ducts and roll down his beaten and bruised face.

As if he wasn't hurt enough after this fight.

"S-Stephen I—"

"I love you."

You stopped dead in your tracks. You were about to apologize for most of the things you said, maybe even cry yourself. But.. he just said those three little words that you'd both been toeing around since last month.

It felt like your heart stopped. Then exploded. And then stopped again before slamming hard against your chest. "You.. You what?"

"I," Stephen started again shakily, his hands moving to cup your cheeks in his shaking hands, "love you."

Your heartbeat continued pounding in your ears.

"W-Wait," you cleared your throat and let your hand that was on his forearm fall, carefully tilting your head up to finally make eye contact. "This isn't a joke, right? You're not... You're not just saying this because you and I just had some kind of-of.. of a fight?"

Stephen sniffled quietly then, shaking thumbs swiping at the tears that were still descending down your face gently - almost as if he were handling glass. "I'm serious."

"You love me?" You asked softly. Quietly, filled with all of the emotion you'd held back just mere minutes ago to stand your ground. Stephen was never one to mix work and play—and you thought this was no exception.

"Yes." Stephen's watery laugh filled your ears then. "I love you. That's—That's why I was angry. You.. You risked your life for me and Wong today. It made me realize how easy it could be to lose you. And I don't want that to happen; I never want to lose you."

If this were a normal conversation—between a man and a woman who have been together for a year and a few months—you wouldn't be giggling like an idiot with your vision being clouded with tears. Okay, maybe you would. It just seemed inappropriate to giggle in this moment. You were giggling. Stephen Strange just admitted he loves you. After you've just yelled at him after a battle that rendered one of your friends back in the hands of the healers back at Kamar-Taj.

And he said he loves you.

"You are such an—"

"I know, I know," Stephen said quickly, cutting you off with a dull chuckle as he leaned forwards to press his forehead gently to your own, not caring about the cut on his skin. "I'm an idiot. Your idiot, however."

You let your shoulders droop, finally relieving them from the tension you were still carrying. One of your hands easily cupped Stephen's while the other slowly wrapped around his wrist, trying to get your emotions together to properly respond to your boyfriend's confession.

"You are." You knew your face contorted into a fond look as you squeezed his wrist gently. He huffed out a laugh as the blanket of silence enveloped you comfortably unlike earlier.

"Aren't you gonna say you love me back?" Stephen teased quietly, his eyes flicking down to look at your lips. You snorted and let your eyes fall shut as you leaned some of your weight against him.

"Well—"

"Oh god, here we go," Stephen quipped.

"Hey! I'm trying to pull a I know on you here," you complained playfully, snapping your eyes open to glare at Stephen.

"Sweetheart, as much as I love you, I don't think you'd pull a Leia on me."

You jutted your bottom lip out into a pout, your brows slowly scrunching up as you did so which caused your forehead to bump into Stephen's. He was quick to hiss, pulling his head back from your own to bring a hand up to hover over where his cut was. Your hands were quick to fall from their spots.

"Oh god, I'm sorry!" You exclaimed, laughter trying to cut through your words. "I-I didn't think I would hit it!"

Stephen couldn't help but start laughing with you, trying to hold you back slightly before you went all "doctor mode" on him as you usually would after missions like these. "You're fine! It's fine."

Eventually, your laughter died down into gentle wheezing before you forced your way into Stephen's arms, now cupping his face in your hands to mainly inspect the damage on his face. He had the cut on his forehead that was surrounded with bumps and bruises, as well as a few little scrapes. You sighed gently.

"What am I going to do with you, Stephen?"

Stephen didn't hesitate to let his hands wrap around your waist slowly, as if to test the waters, letting out a hum. "I can think of a few things."

You rolled your eyes then, letting your hands clasp together behind his head to rest on the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer once more. You wanted a kiss more than anything at this point, even if you had a bit of a cut lip. A kiss from the man that loved you.

"Stop it. If you think anything R-rated is happening between us tonight, you're dead wrong," you admonished. "We've both got injuries, Stephen."

"C'mon," Stephen urged gently, his hands sliding to flatten at your sides, squeezing your curves under his fingertips, "you've never turned down the shower stuff before."

"Well then today's the day I'm turning it down. Because I'd rather hurt now rather than later."

The face Stephen pulled would have made you laugh if you weren't looking at him so fondly, your mind reeling back to what he said what felt like seconds ago. Those three little words he said were replaying in your head again. Your heart skipped a beat by how giddy you were becoming just by the mere thought of Stephen saying those words to you. It hadn't occurred to you that you were zoned out completely then, Stephen gently saying your name as he shook you a little.

You were quick to blink a bit, letting a smile bloom on your face before you let go of your hands to slide them to his shoulders.

"Say it again," you demanded softly, letting your nails dig into the fabric under your fingertips. "Please."

Stephen definitely didn't get what you meant until your eyes moved from looking up into his own, to looking at his lips. You were thankful he decided to grant your wish when he gently said your name, easily pressing the length of his body against yours.

"I love you."

"I love you too," you replied immediately, your whole heart basically evacuating your body through your words. You loved him. Stephen Strange. The Master of The Mystic Arts. Who ever this man was before, and whoever this man was now, you loved him. That much was evident to the both of you in this moment.

Stephen took a moment to mutter something under his breath before he leaned forward and captured your lips in a searing kiss. As intense as the kiss was, his lips were soft against your own, despite the fact that yours were most definitely weathered from the battle. One of his hands found their spot back on your cheek as Stephen tilted his head to deepen the kiss in the moment before started to pull away to giggle again.

"What?" Stephen questioned quietly. You just shrugged as you kept your eyes shut, feeling Stephen's gaze trail over your face.

"My lips probably feel terrible to you—"

Stephen groaned playfully then, holding back a chuckle. "You need to stop with these one liners when we're having a moment, sweetheart."

"You love me for it!" You exclaimed, opening your eyes now to finally catch the fond look Stephen was giving you.

"I do."

"Does this mean we can get patched up now? As attractive as you look all beaten and... rugged, you should really get cleaned up before something gets infected," you explained, pulling back until Stephen's arms stopped you, gesturing to his whole get up. "I don't need you getting sick again on me."

"Fine. As long as you're the one patching me up, I don't care," Stephen sighed dramatically, letting you go but making sure to grab your hand with his own gently. You grinned at the fact that you didn't have to try and push the offer to him any more than you already did.

You were quick to get up to his height momentarily, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before starting to lead him to the open door that led you two home. In the back of your mind, you knew you would have to have a more adult conversation about earlier once the two of you have rested and cleaned up a bit later in the evening. This wasn't just something you could ignore easily after a heartfelt confession. But you weren't as afraid as you were when the argument started.

Because he loved you. That's all you needed to remember as you headed into this new stage of your relationship with Stephen Strange.

#stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange imagine #doctor strange imagine #stephen strange #doctor strange #marvel fanfiction #stephen strange fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel writer #mcu imagine #marvel angst #rachael writes

133 notes · View notes

bigolyikesthings · 5 years

Text

A sex expert- a sexpert, if you will

((shoutout to the anon that wanted first time smut. I’m not super sure if this is what you wanted, but this is how it wound up. Obviously this is smut, but theres also some soft. Just a little.))

It had been a wonderful evening. You had ordered pizza and Beetlejuice had scared the pizza boy into leaving it for free (or at least he thought he had. In reality you had already paid online, but it was nice to see him happy). The two of you had sat and enjoyed your meal while half watching some netflix original and throwing pillows at each other on occasion. Of course, Bj was dead and didn't need to eat. But the act was still enjoyable and his tastebuds still worked, so he enjoyed the pizza regardless.

There was a nervous energy to the air but only you knew why. Unbeknownst to Beetlejuice, tonight would be the night. You two had transitioned from friends to lovers a few weeks ago after a few unspoken thoughts were said. So far it had been steady and gentle, he knew you didn't have a heap of experience under your belt. So far then relationship mostly involved making out and cuddling on the couch. Of course, occasionally a hand may wander, but never anything more than a brief smack or grab. But you had decided earlier today that enough was enough. Thinking about him made you want to grind into any nearby surface and you were beyond sure he felt the same. So tonight would be the night Beetlejuice would fuck you senseless. Assuming he agreed. Which, lets be honest, he probably would. You'd engaged in some more raunchy activities in the past. Clumsy touches and the occasional attempt at oral one way or the other, but sex itself was something you were yet to explore. And trying it out for the first time with the ghost with the most didn't seem like a bad idea at all. At some point in the movie, who really gives a shit where, you reached over to Bj, running a hand from his knee to his thigh, ending with a quick squeeze. This act alone was enough to steal his entire attention. Your same hand then reached for his, holding it and stroking the knuckles for just a second while you made silent eye contact, before standing up. Closing your laptop with your free hand, you kept a hold of Beej in the other. Turning, he was dragged to follow you. "What's up babes? You tired already? The movie was pretty shit i guess, but we could've just changed it." You didn't say a word as you continued to pull him towards your bedroom, which had sooner become both your bedrooms now that he slept next to you most nights. You were amazed your resolve had lasted this long given the amount of times you woke to his boner against your ass, but then again, you were nervous. He was a demon. Mr sex positive and seemingly always ready to bone, knowing everyone else in the room probably would be too, simply because he was there. And you were someone who had barely given a blowjob once and that was frankly an embarrassing nightmare you'd rather forget. Closing the door you gestured for Bj to sit on the bed, not quite making eye contact. By now he could feel the nervous energy and he was starting to feel it too given the light blue starting to fade into streaks of his hair. "Babes, is everything okay?" You ignored his comment as you moved to urge him further up the bed, finally straddling him. You should feel elated, you should feel sexy, sitting over this snack of a demon, but all you felt was nerves and worry. You tried for sultry eye contact for a few seconds but quickly caved, instead electing to lean in and bury your face in his shoulder in shame. "Beej, I want us to... I want you to..." "What is it babe? For all my amazing skills, i cant read minds. What do you want?" he stroked the back of your head while chuckling at your adorable nervous behaviour. He'd worked out what you were trying to do, but knew it was important you say it yourself. Plus it was cute to see you so flustered. " I, well, I want us to have sex. But i get if you don't want to. I mean I'm pretty inexperienced and that must be annoying and if you don't want to we really don't have to but you're really hot and i really want you to fuck me if you do want to but i mean you dont have to." you barely raised your head from his shoulder to speed mumble your jumbled thoughts at him. And then you froze while he hmmed about it. Taking one hand, that had lowered itself to stroking your back, he placed it on his jaw and scratched his face, contemplating what you asked him. From your perspective he was mocking you and drawing your confession out. From his perspective he was memorizing you essentially begging for it and storing that away for any future where you were away for an extended period of time. "Well, because you asked so nicely..." he took your jaw in his hands, pulling from his shoulder to meet his eyes. Pausing for just a moment, with a smirk causing his eyes to sparkle, he pulled you to him. The kiss was passionate and conveyed that he was more than ready to give you everything you wanted and more. At first, everything was grabbing hands and clashing teeth. A fight for dominance led to you losing the battle, laying on the bed in only your underwear after Beej had dragged your pants slowly down your thighs and nigh on ripped your shirt trying to get it off. He was down to boxers and an open shirt, meaning you had full access to stroke and squeeze his sides. This ferocity was great and nearly led you to forget your nervousness until you felt calloused fingers at the elastic of your underwear. This move caused you to jump and freeze. Only slightly. But it was enough for Beetlejuice to notice. "Hey, hey, look at me babes." he pulled his lips from your neck to look you in the eyes. "Is this what you want? I get it if this is as far as you want to go. We can pause here and enjoy ourselves as we are. I know I'm having fun." and he leaned down to lick a wide stripe across your nipple, briefly sucking as he heard your whine in response. "But we can always go further later. I just want you to feel good, okay?" You looked in his eyes and behind them mischievous glint there was genuine concern. First times are important and he wanted to make sure you enjoyed yours. "I'm... I'm okay. I'm way better than okay." you ran your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, lightly scratching to comfort him when he looked doubtful at your words. "I'm just super nervous. You know this is basically new territory for me. But, i want this, i really do. Just, please, go slow okay?" At this he blinked slowly and smiled. He leaned forward to kiss you softly, and before you could even get a good taste he had moved south, his lips leaving a trail of saliva in their path. By the time he reached your underwear, you were starting to feel a nice warmth over you, his care evident. But you gasped feeling a tongue stripe up your panties. "Gotta make sure you're good and ready babes. Can never do with enough lube if you know what I'm saying." he held eye contact until you gave a faint not, and just like that your undies were gone and in their place was Beetlejuices tongue and lips and stubble. And holy shit. You knew he was good with his mouth, his kisses had showcased that talent already. But this was on a whole other level. He knew exactly where to lick and suck and lightly bite just after a few moments of getting to know you down there. And he was quite enjoying himself too, proud that you were having such a wonderful experience bought on by him and only him. It was certainly wonderful if you were now hesitantly rocking your hips up, trying for more but being scared to take it. In encouragement of your new found boldness, Bj reached one of his hands under you, grabbing hold of your ass and hoisting you closer to his mouth, and the other taking your fist balled in the sheets and placing it on the back of his head. You took direction well and gripped a hold of his hair, knowing from past make outs that this was generally a good move. "Fuck babes you're a natural" he muttered between your thighs, the vibration feeling like magic. Soon enough a finger was added, and then another. With encouraging vibrations from Bj such as "Cum on babes, cum on my tongue, let me get a taste of you." and "Please baby, I have to see what you look like when you cum." you were quick to finish, following his orders and unconsciously pulling him in close when you finished, covering your face with one arm. His head emerged from your thighs after one final long lick, and his grin was chesire-like. " Fuck baby. You can bet your tasty ass we're doing that again, but for now, how do you feel? You ready for the main event?" It took you a moment to come back to reality, but the sight of him licking his fingers was enough to remind you where you were and what was happening. You were ready, you were so goddamn ready. But somehow, you were still nervous. What if you did something wrong. What if you sounded weird, or felt weird, or you weren't good? Just moments after being on cloud nine, you were panicking again. And Bj could see it in the way your eyes avoided his and your arms crossed over your chest, legs slowly trying to close despite him purposefully staying in the way. "Baby, look at me. What are you all in your head about? I just got you out of there, don't climb back in." he placed light kisses on your forehead and cheeks, leaning in but still remaining firmly between your legs. "What if I'm not good?" you whispered, hating having to voice your thoughts. At this he let out a light chuckle that slowly built to full blown laughter. Only when you smacked his shoulder did he remember the sensitive situation. "I'm sorry baby. Look. I am willing to bet my undead life on the fact that you will feel and be amazing. I'm already addicted and we've barely started. Buuuut. If you do suck, which I'm not saying you will - and I'm hoping in the future you will, wheyey-but if you do suck, then that just means we have to practice right? Keep going till you're good?" his smile had started off genuine and had only grown cheekier the longer he talked. "Same as before babes, if you want to call it, I'm happy to pack my suitcases and head back down south or we can just cuddle if you like. But I will have to go and sort myself out in the bathroom if that's the case, coz babe you've got me rock hard. And i will do that, i will jerk off in the bathroom and come back to cuddle you because I care. Right now is all about going as far as you want and not a toe further. It's completely up to you." His speech earned him a few more smacks to the shoulder, but you could tell that despite the gross comments he was being genuine. And that knowledge that at the second you wanted it to end, the second it became too much, that he would stop? That was enough to push you over the edge. "Beetlejuice?" at the mention of his full name he returned from your neck where he'd been hiding while you thought, to now look you in the eyes. Using his name in full usually meant you meant business. "I want this. And i want you to..." you blushed at this. You thought you could be bold and make a hard statement like before about wanting him to fuck you, but now he was right there and watching you. And his stubble was still slightly shiny. "Yeeeees?" he dragged out, knowing what you were trying to do and savouring your embarrassment. "I want you to... I need you to..." You want me to what exactly? I'm like a genie babes, you gotta tell me what you want for your wishes to come true." " Oh screw you Lawrence, I want you to fuck me, okay? " " Oh fuck yeah babes, one romantic plowing coming right up." At this point Bj had become a tightly wound spring and saying his first name was enough to make him snap. Before you could even smack his shoulder for the final time, his cock was at your entrance, him taking just a moment to smirk at you and receive an almost begrudging nod before sliding straight in. You were wet enough that it was an easy job to get in to the hilt straight away, balls resting against your ass. All you could do was breathe. It felt great but odd and you needed just a moment. Beej leaned in for a soft kiss to your lips before asking "ready babes?" and you muttered an mmhmm. He started off gentle, easing in and out, but that pace grew to be too little too slow for both of you. When your hips began meeting his, that was when Bj took it as a sign to roughen up just a little. Just so you could get a taste of the future to come. The pace wasn't punishing but it was hard, and it wasn't long before you were struggling to keep up. In an effort to still contribute, you resorted to mouthing and biting at his neck, while your hands swapped between pulling his hair and scratching down his back. You knew Bj liked it a little rough, and you were right. Your actions causing him to go harder than even he had anticipated, but nothing too far. It wasn't long before the two of you were essentially babbling broken praises and moans at each other. And the second Beej took his thumb and brushed it over your clit was all the stimulation you needed to cum for the second time. However when you tried to cover your face again, a hand reached and pinned your arm above your head. Bjs eyes locking with yours as you moaned up and at him. And seeing you, eyes glazed over and listening to you swap between crying Beetejuice and Lawrence was enough for him to lose it. The reality was better than any fantasy he could've imagined. He came inside, mirroring your act of moaning your partners name. And despite being fairly fucked out, the sight did manage to turn you on a fair bit. This sex demon who could lay with whoever he wanted was not only with you but was crying out for you. And rutting out his final few drops cum into you. Once he had finished, Bj was slow to remove himself from you, missing the warmth already. He lay on top of you, not using his full weight, but definitely making sure you felt him covering you. "Soo... You definitely don't need practice." he stressed the 'need' while making side eyes at you, "buut, it couldn't hurt to have it anyway. In fact, as a sex expert, a sexpert, i would recommend practicing as often as possible." You both let out a breathless laugh at this, knowing future practice would definitely come. "So how was it?" this time his tone was far more genuine. "Thank you. It was perfect. Mr sexpert." you offered him a kiss on the cheek. He cheered himself and his doctorate of fuckery as you went to the bathroom to clean yourself up, waving away his offers to come help given his phd in aftercare. When you returned, he had a retrieved a glass of water and arranged the blankets into a nice nest for you to tuck into. Once comfortably inside and tucked up against him you began to drift off to sleep. "Thank you for letting me be the one." Bj whispered into your ear. "I wouldn't have it any other way beetle."

#beeltejuice #beetlejuice x reader #beetlejuice/reader #smut #nsft #first time #i dont even know man #it is what it is

663 notes · View notes

kimnjss · 5 years

Text

drinks | knj

⤑ series: falling for you

⤑ pairing: university student!namjoon x university student!reader (female)

⤑ genre: fluff, angst, like the slightest bit of smut (its grinding)

⤑ word count: 1.7K

⤑ notes: this was supposed to be much longer but life got in the way lmao.

The sound of your laughter filled Joon's ears as he pushed the practice room door open. He smiled, seeing you sat on the floor as Hoseok and Jungkook went over their routine in front of the large mirror. He wasn't expecting the way your eyes lit up when he caught your attention.

“Joon!” You exclaimed, hoping up to wrap him in a hug. This was definitely new. His hands were quickly finding your hips and you couldn't help but smile at the hesitance in his movements. He was so cute.

Your movement had caught the other guys attention. They watched until you two were parting. Jungkook went to turn the music off, running a hand through his slightly sweaty hair. “You ready to go?” He asked, glancing down at you.

You nodded your head, stepping back from Joon. You took a moment to take in what he was wearing, a grin spreading over your lips at the sight of the red cap on his head. “I like when you wear that hat,” You could've swore he blushed at your words.

His eyes definitely shifting to Hoseok behind you.

“Let me go say bye to Jimin and then we can leave,” Jungkook left the room heading toward the practice room his boyfriend planned to be in for the next few hours.

“You look really pretty,” Joon complimented, blushing cheeks and dimples on full display. His words had you feeling warm all over. You had spent a little longer this morning getting yourself ready for today.

It was a bit hard to do your routine in such baggy clothes but it was worth it to hear Joon calling you pretty. You thanked him with a bright smile, in that moment Jungkook reentering the room. Lips slightly swollen and cheeks flushed, “Alright, let's go.” He tossed his hair between his fingers.

Hoseok was leading out of the room, Namjoon at his side. They spoke quietly between each other throughout the entire walk to the bar. You and Jungkook stayed behind. After the fourth wondering glance from him, you had to speak up: “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” Your laugh slipped through your sentence.

“Have you thought of what you're going to do?” He gestured toward Joon with his eyes and a jerk of his head. You shook yours.

“No idea... I figured, I'd just go with the flow.” You shrugged.

Joon was holding the front door open for you, an arm dropping around your shoulder once you walked ahead of him. He had done this a few times while you two were together at the fair and you loved it.

Hoseok was quick with finding a booth for you guys. Joon slid in beside you which left Jungkook standing at the edge of the table with a confused expression for a few moments. “Just sit by me,” Hoseok spoke through his teeth, tugging the boy down.

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“Should we get appetizers for the table? The spinach artichoke dip is really good,” You nodded your head at Hoseok's words, leaning comfortably back against Joon who kept his arm wrapped around your shoulder. He smelt so good.

At some point during the night, Jungkook was suggesting that along with your beers, you all did shots. You had stopped keeping count after your sixth shot, the drinks going down much easier now. Joon wasn't that far behind you, raising his glass each time you raised yours.

“Wanna dance?” Your words were slurred but from the quick way Joon was nodding his head, you knew that he understood you just fine. He was standing within an instant, wrapping his hand around yours and leading you toward the small group of dancing bodies.

It was rather early on a Monday, so there weren't many people crowding the dance floor. Regardless, you arms were wrapping around Joon's neck as you moved your body to the beat of the music. His hands were quick with finding your hips, following your lead.

It felt nice. Dancing with Joon close like this was enough to make your heart race. His forehead had found it's way onto yours, that cute smile on his face as he stared at you. You had never pegged Joon for someone who could exactly dance, but the way his body was so easily moving to the beat of the music told you otherwise.

You really liked being this close to him. His strong hands on your body, his hips rolling in time with yours. It felt as if the temperature of the place had skyrocketed and it was just you two in the middle of the dance floor. Here, nothing could touch you.

His hands were pushing your jacket back off of your shoulders and you let him. The tips of his fingers caressing your now bare back. The way he was looking at you held so much fire... so much intensity. Was this really the quiet shy Joon that you studied with.

You turned in his arms. Joon's grip falling from your hips to secure an arm around your waist. With your back pressed against his front, you began moving your hips once more. You felt the way his body stilled and you smirked, rolling your hips in the most provocative way you could muster.

You could've sworn you heard his breath hitch. Alcohol and adrenaline rushed through your body, fueling every one of your movements. Your hands were working their way up into his hair as you grinded back against him. All Joon could do was try and keep up.

Dancing like this wasn't far from what you did in the practice room. The steps came naturally to you, as if possessed by the music. In the midst of particularly quick roll of your hips... you felt it. Long and hard and pressed right against your ass.

Wanting a better feel, you moved your hips much slower... fuck, he was solid. With your back to him, you weren't able to see how much your dancing had been effecting him, but now you could feel it. In one swift movement, you were turning once again.

His hands, as if having a mind of their own dropped directly onto your ass. He pushed your body tight against his as he dropped his forehead down against yours. You had been waiting to see Joon like this. The lust filled stare in his eyes, his lips red from the way he had been biting on them.

Hot.

Raising just one hand from your butt, Joon cupped the side of your neck. He used his grip to tilted your head up, your lips only inches apart from the movement. You could feel his warm breath on your mouth, smell the alcohol on his tongue. You wanted a taste.

He refused to make any moves, waiting for you to close the rest of the empty space. Slowly, you began to bring your lips toward his. And just as they brushed against each other, you were being pulled apart by Hoseok's hand on Joon's shoulder.

Joon's hands dropped from your body so quickly, you wondered if they were ever actually there. His eyes were wide as if he was just caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “What's up?” All of his attention off of you, now on his friend.

“Jungkook threw up. We gotta go,”

You sobered, hearing that something had happened to your friend. “Goo, threw up!? Where is he?” Hoseok glanced over at you and it seemed in that moment he had realized what he had interrupted. An apologetic glance was shot up to Joon... one that you probably weren't supposed to see.

“He's by the bathrooms. One of the waitresses said she'd stay with him so I could find you guys.” You were rushing toward the restroom before Hoseok could finish his sentence. Jungoo wasn't that much of a drinker, only really drinking with Jimin.

He had hardly drank enough to get himself sick, though.

You found him seated on the floor, eyes shut and head back against the wall. He glanced up from after feeling your hand on his shoulder. Offering a small smile, you helped him up onto his feet. “Are you alright?”

He nodded his head lazily. “Can we go?” You nodded, slinging one of his heavy arms over your shoulders, holding onto his back in order to hold him up.

As the two of you made your way through the crowd, Jungkook mumbled quietly to himself. “What are you saying?” You laughed, looking up at him.

He looked as if he had forgotten you were standing there... helping him walk. “Was just wondering about Jimin... if he was still dancing... he probably is, huh?”

You smiled. “Probably. He had just started when we left... you know Jimin, it has to be perfect,”

“He's perfect,” Jungkook sighed. “Can we go see him?”

“Don't you want to go home? Get some rest,”

Jungkook looked as if you had offended him, “Won't sleep without Jimin,” He spoke as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

You met Hoseok and Joon in front of the club. “He's good?” Hoseok asked.

You nodded, not being able to keep yourself from glancing over at Joon. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, his eyes staring at a pebble he kicked with the toe of his shoe. Shy Joon was back.

“He's fine. I'm gonna take him to the studio, though. He keeps mumbling about Jimin,” You laughed. Jungkook perked up at the sound of his boyfriend's name. He was paying full attention to the conversation now.

“Oh, alright. Do you want us to come with?”

“No, you guys head home. It's not far,” You gestured toward the building that could be seen from where you were standing.

Hoseok nodded. “Text Joon when you get home,” Speaking for his awkwardly quiet friend.

Joon looked up with wide eyes and you almost let a laugh slip. He was cute. “I'll text you,” You confirmed, watching as the dimples appeared on his cheeks. “Okay,”

“I had fun tonight,” You added, hoping the tone eluded to exactly what you were referring to. From the way he blushed, your message had gotten across. Offering a tiny wave to the both of them, you were steering Jungkook in the direction of the dance studio.

— by chance you are paired up with, kim namjoon. he’s everything a dream guy should be: smart, funny, handsome. it doesn’t take long for feelings to develop, and that’s when things take an unexpected turn.

prev masterlist next

#kim namjoon #jin #yoongi #jimin #hobi #taehyung #jungkook #bts fake texts #bts imagine #bts smut #bts fluff #namjoon fluff #namjoon sm au #namjoon smut #falling for you sm au #friends to lovers #namjoon x reader #student!reader

512 notes · View notes