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satoruhour · 4 months

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AY ! SPANK IT.

a/n: had to physically hold myself back from not doing any lore. i failed (for gojo’s at least). enjoy / tagging my babies @redskyvenus @suguella @satorena @screampied @jabamin @marimogf @osaemu @ryovie

wc: 3.5k

warnings: sp*nking for all (i cheated on gojo’s part but we don’t talk bout that), fem!reader, gojo is older than in the series (late 30s), semi-public oral (m! receiving), deep throating, he’s a little rough, a stranger listens in (gojo), implied multiple rounds, unprotected p -> v sex, (geto), implied multiple rounds, fingering, clit stimulation, pussy slaps, unprotected p -> v sex (nanami), you ask soft dom!toji to be rougher, implied multiple rounds, face slapping, unprotected p -> v sex (toji), n*sfw under the cut

✶ GOJO

your mind’s racing. that’s the only thing you can focus on, and maybe also the fact that gojo looks absolutely dashing in the suit he bought, taking you out for a whole day of shopping just because he can, so you got yourself a dress that goes all the way to the floor while he had another suit to add to the collection. it was so terrible, too, because you’re at utahime’s wedding dinner and all you can think about is getting to your knees to suck him off.

“need somethin’?” gojo whispers with hand clasped over yours, voice softer than usual. he’s grown much into his age, now well into his late 30s and you have to physically hold yourself back every waking hour. his way of living is a tad bit softer and tender when it comes to you.

you swallow, “i might ruin the mood.”

gojo laughs and it’s got your cunt throbbing, “nothing you say could ruin the mood, baby.”

sparing a glance towards utahime and her wife, you feel a little bad that you’re going to do what you’re going to do, but it’s only the fourth course and the band on stage is kinda shit. so you’re standing and pulling on his wrist, excusing yourself from the table of sorcerers that already have an inkling of your imminent activities; you even think you can hear nanami sigh.

“where’re we goin—” gojo’s surprised by your eagerness and the quickness in which you say shut it, navigating the second floor of the hotel and even making the effort to head to the bathroom further from the function room. he grins in recognition.

wordlessly, you’re shoving him into the men’s bathroom because you’re past your senses and you don’t care any more, walking your husband back into a stall. there’s a shocked yelp from the occupied stall beside you but you hardly give a shit, locking the door and crashing your lips against satoru’s.

“so eager,” he whispers against your lips, gasping into your mouth when you squeeze his bulge. you waste no time palming it, kissing down his jaw just for a little tease and making your bluish-black mark on his neck before you’re dropping to your knees and fumbling with his belt. you can’t look up at your husband’s piercing eyes because you know you’d cower in shame at your sex-crazed surge, but you do anyway and you only melt further into the floor.

you’re left wondering why his enemies always don’t freeze in awe when he removes his blindfold, because your cheek feels at home on his pelvis as you continue to massage his erection, a small smile spreading when his hand cradles your cheek.

“go ahead, princess,” he takes over, releasing his cock from the confines of his underwear and you’re scooching closer to him, taking his shaft in your fingers as they slowly stroke him to full hardness. gojo’s good at keeping his moans in, fixated on the baby blue nails that he paid for moving up and down, and he swears he catches a hand that goes in between your legs to rub at your clit.

that is until you’re waste no time messing up your make-up, mouth descending on his cock and gojo lets out a drawn out moan at the warmth of your mouth. it contrasts with the intense coldness of the hotel and resembles your tight cunt so well that he almost cums and you smile at the twitch you feel in your mouth.

“yeesss . . take it down your throat like a slut,” he looks at you, possibly hypnotised by how you start bobbing your head, swirling your tongue on the underside of his cock without rest. you slobber over him, gargling noises and your hand pumps the area you can’t reach and the other only draws messy circles on your clit, filling the bathroom with the obscene noises of your mouth paired with gojo’s whines and whimpers. silently, he beckons you closer and you catch his drift, both hands holding onto his thighs.

taking in a breath, you’re going all the way slowly, gently, and gojo lets you, hands cradling your head and helping you — so much so that he’s hunching over in pure pleasure, bent over and chin touching his chest from how he wanted to keep his eyes on you. your eyes never stop looking up at him, variations of mmhm’s leaving your throat and sending vibrations all throughout his length that he groans at.

“f-fuck— mouth so damn warm,” satoru chokes out, feeling a sense of pride when the corners of your eyes fill up with tears and you gag a little, but you press on because he’s trained you well. he can only focus on the gagging sounds and your nose buried in his pubes, mouth muttering out profanities. “just a little bit— s-shit . . just a lil more, baby.”

it’s not everyday the strongest sorcerer begs, drunk on feeling his tip hit the back of your throat and the dig of your nails in his thighs. your muffled moans only spur him on, another surge of amusement blooming in his chest when he sees the other person hurriedly leaving the stall next to you. gojo’s fingers bury themselves in your hair and pulls, grinning down at your melting mascara and smudged lipstick. you look like the embodiment of filthiness, tongue lolled out and eyes almost rolling back as you try to catch your breath.

“sa— satoru . .” you whine, mouth chasing his cock and manage to catch his tip, suckling and slurping up his pre-cum, “give it t’me.” that gets him grunting and swatting your hands away as he forcibly takes your chin and his cock, slapping it all over your face and you moan at the sheer girth and size of him. you let it rest against your face and your husband wishes he had his camera out to capture this. maybe next time.

“tongue.” and you’re sticking it out, and he slaps his tip along your tongue, too, clear sounds resonating throughout the restroom. outside, he hears the sink stop and with a thumb, drags your jaw to open more.

“let’s give ’im a show, shall we?”

✶ GETO

you see, you’ve always known your man to be an ass man — from noticing the way his eyes follow your figure in a bodycon dress to the special attention he gives it during cuddling, but you’re never truly prepared (you didn’t think he was more obsessed over your ass than you are) for how much he loves it when he’s always got your face buried into the pillows and your lower half propped up.

you’re on god knows what round, drool seeping into the duvet and your juices soaking the sheets and moans leaving your lips. geto’s got you in full nelson, mating press, you can’t even remember any more when the only thing you can think of is his cock easing into you.

“gone so many rounds and still need some dick in her,” he laughs and you burn from embarrassment, and yet you love it, pushing your ass back into him while his grip on your waist tightens, “don’t blame ’er — i love this fuckin’ pussy too.”

you preen at the praise, turning your head to find geto struggling between looking at your face of pleasure and your ass; he lets his desires win, memorising the cute pants and desperate furrow of your eyebrows before he reluctantly pulls his eyes away. but how could he resist — when your butt is pushed up against his pelvis so nicely, the stretch of your dripping cunt in full view and the jiggle of your ass whenever his body meets yours.

his hands leave your waist and spread your cheeks to see how his fat cock leaves and reenters you, full of your mixed cum from the previous sessions that there’s a ring of white that forms at the base of his length with each thrust. it spills all over and down his balls, down your thighs and it’s so sloppy once he starts moving, the wetness of your pussy only encouraging him further.

“pretty little doll takes my cock so well, hm?” suguru hums, fingers squeezing and releasing the fat of your ass. it only anchors him to be rougher and more precise in his thrusts, tip just kissing your cervix that has got you crying out. your head’s foggy but your grip is strong, clutching the sheets below you until your knuckles turn white. in a moment of sensitivity, your hand flies to grab at his wrist.

“sugu—” you gasp, and you meet his eyes, dark with lust while his hair falls all around him. it’s hot, he’s hot and you watch him lick his lips and smile that dizzying smile of his as he changes the pace however he likes to. one moment he’s grinding into your cunt, and the other, he’s snapping his hips roughly.

“yes, darling?” it’s taunting, just like the way he pushes down on your back to accentuate your arch, tugging your hips onto his front.

“s’good, love it, love it—!” you mewl, eyes squeezing shut from the immense pleasure and overstimulation, “feels t’good—”

there’s no answer except a resounding smack that echoes through the room and you gasp again, a choked whine leaving your mouth. you can feel heat forming on your ass and geto’s sick chuckle only makes you open your eyes again to meet him and he’s soothing the place where he spanked.

“yeah? that feel good, huh?” he coos, picking up the pace and ramming into you with the roughness of someone who’s been denied pussy for days and he spanks you again, again and again, the pain so exhilarating. geto cannot keep his eyes off you, watching, hypnotised, the way your ass moves under his hand, “just love this ass so damn much.”

geto catches your smile just as your lips part to whimper out his name and he only props one of his legs up to get deeper in you, a long groan escaping from him when you clench around him.

another smack, another one of your moans, another plea and he laughs breathlessly, cock twitching in you.

“guess i found my girl’s guilty pleasure.”

✶ NANAMI

nanami loved your pleasure. whether it was through oral or just pure sex, the way he knows that he’s making you feel good is enough for him to cum, the satisfaction of doing his job as a partner and the knowledge that you’re the only one to fall apart by his hands. that’s why he never stops until he feels like you’ve had enough, talking you through your many orgasms until you’re spent.

he chuckles lowly into your ear from behind, legs holding down your own as your body convulses from another climax that he’s brought you to. you’re squeezing so much around his fingers that he has trouble removing them, the other hand calming down your heaving stomach.

“you’re relentless, kento . .” you mumble, head slumping onto his shoulder and back, breath hitting the hair that’s at the back. your lover takes the opportunity to mark your neck, alternating between licking and sucking into the skin there. his hands always are so much larger on your body — when they wrap around your middle at events to guide you around, around your arm where you’re cooking at home together — it always sends you into hysterics.

“but you do like it, don’t you, my love?” his tone is soft, sending the hairs along your body to stand, because no matter how soft, the rasp in which he speaks with never fails to thrill you.

“i do, kento, but ’m so sensitive; not sure if you like it,” you hum, removed from your daydream when you feel his cock slap against your thigh. knowing you’re prepped for him, he doesn’t answer but only sighs into your ear when he slips in, your cum providing enough for him to slowly inch himself in.

“of c—” it’s strained, he says it through his teeth, “’course i like it, baby. i love it, even.” nanami groans when he starts to thrust up into you, drunk on the moans and whimpers you feed him. instinctively, your legs try to close but his hands are quicker, holding you open that you need to hold onto him for some sort of grounding, because it was just too. much.

“k-kento,” your voice wavers when you feel him bottom out, watching his hands wander over your sweat-filled body. he hadn’t even fully undressed from his mission duties, still wearing his watch with his trousers pulled down halfway. your pussy was just too good. “so full—!”

“y-yeah . . it is, darling girl doin’ so good f’r me,” nanami’s sounds only send shivers down your body, hands finally coming to rest along your tits. he plays with them, fingers fondling with your nipples and squeezing mindlessly while his hips give you calculated thrusts into your soaking cunt, “doing so good and taking my cock like a good girl. yeah, aren’t ya?”

you nod into his embrace but you wished he’d give some attention to your neglected clit, something that he’s been set on abusing for the past orgasms — and now he doesn’t give it any sort of attention?

“kento— mmfuck—! w-want you to,” your sentence is cut off by your own cries of swears and your boyfriend’s name until he’s turning your head so he can kiss you. devouring your sounds, he speaks against your lips.

“what is it, sweetheart?”

distracted from the kissing, you never notice the way his hands make a beeline for your core, and the first rub of you clit has got you clamping down hard around his length and he grunts.

“was it that?” and you nod again like a dumb slut, hips bucking up into his hold and you can feel his own falter, loving how warm your gummy walls were. it was disgusting; with each move of his pelvis, your juices only spurt everywhere and anywhere, dripping down right onto the sheets.

“m-more . .” you mumble, back arching and body shivering from the intensity of everything, while nanami looks between your eyes and mouth like he’s ingraining the pretty painting of ecstasy of your face into his mind. he makes sure to keep his hazel eyes locked on you, and, rewarded well when his hand comes down upon your clit in a messy slap.

“kento!” your head lols back, muscles pulled taut while your lover only smiles, and he does it again whilst his cock is endlessly pumping into you.

the slaps continue and they’re wet, lewdly wet and it makes you even more flustered and embarrassed that you’re hiding your face into his neck. each slap is like a hit to your head, making you dizzy and giddy and you want nothing more than to cream all over his cock.

they’re harsher — a strength nanami never liked to execute on you but seeing your body convulse like this, seeing your eyes blown wide and jaw slack only makes his spanks against your pussy rougher until you’ve gone silent.

“g’nna cum like this? filthy girl . . simply from my spanks?” he laughs into your hair, knowing to angle his hips just right and that’s got you speaking his name like a mantra, “i’ll definitely need to see my darling girl so ruined again.”

✶ TOJI

“you want me to be . . what?”

contrary to popular belief, toji has always (mostly) been gentle with you in bed. having come from a rough past, he’s only ever treated you like glass, entirely different from the way he was treated as a child. he’s done that to his ex-wife, as well, and now to you, thinking that if he’d ever do anything wrong, you’d leave him.

“i want you to be rougher . . toji,” it’s not something that warrants the use of his first name when a pet name is more than enough, but you both know this stems from something he’s afraid of and you’re only showing your concern through using his given name. “i can take it.”

toji coos at your big girl words, something he adores even before you’ve gotten in a relationship with him and he brings you closer with a toned arm around your waist, “are ya sure?”

and like always he’s making sure you’re okay with everything that he’s done so far, checking up on you, taking breaks in between, so you work your magic. with one hand on his forearm and one more on his face, you’re asking for more, more, more, even as he’s buried deep in you, pussy still struggling to take him because he’s just so big.

“want more, do ya?” he grunts, both hands holding you by the ankle while he thrusts into you with the force of an animal, of many pleas of you wanting more has landed you in this position — cum spilling out of you, sheets filled with your sweat and your clit feeling sore as hell — and you love every second of it. you nod pathetically, eyes welling up with tears from just how good his dick game was and when he laughs, you swear you feel your pussy flutter.

“c’mon, s-shiiit . . watch me fuck this pussy,” he manages to get out, a mix between a groan and grunt that speech is a little distorted, but you prop yourself up anyway, yelping when his hands caress down your legs to your knees and pushes. you end up with your knees to your chest and a front seat view of his cock moving in and out of you, a clear sheen of slick along his shaft from your combined juices.

without warning, he’s spitting onto your clit, a long string of saliva that hangs from his mouth until it finally reaches your core and you moan from obscene action. your hips only wiggle closer to him, chasing that same thrill. “again.”

he lets out a laugh in disbelief, “again? dirty little slut.” and he wraps his fingers around your chin even as you continue to pant and mewl, further emphasising his overpowering strength over yours and drawing your eyes from the hypnotising sight in front of you to meet his dark green ones that are filled with desire.

your mind is overwhelmed with everything, from the fullness of his throbbing cock in you to the feeling of your knees digging into your clavicle. he doesn’t even need to open your mouth for you before he’s gathering another ball of saliva and spitting it into your mouth.

“swallow,” and you do so obediently, chest heaving in anticipation while your neediness only prompts a sly grin out of toji. all the while, his hips are still moving, sending you into oblivion with you mumbling that you want even more and toji’s set out to give you something that he remembers you mentioning on a random day to your girlfriends on call.

with the same hand around your chin, he’s giving your cheek a light slap, heat already blooming from the fat of your cheek from the roughness of his hands. and he halts — he’s afraid you’ll think he hates you but all you do is clench tighter around him while a cockdrunk smile spreads across your face.

“like it— love that, toij . .” you giggle, seemingly confused about why his thrusts stop but he wastes no time resuming his pace when he sees your eyes begging for release, groaning out at the freeness he feels upon listening to you. he loves watching your pussy take him, cum gushing everywhere, but with his new discovery, he’s too fixated one seeing that look on your face again.

so he interrupts your never-ending moans with another slap and that only garners another tightening of your cunt, biting your lip with a small grin.

“like it when i’m rough with ya, huh?” toji laughs, holding your chin and slapping, playing with your lips and slapping and each time you give him what he wants — a broken moan or a call out for him, spurring his hips on until all that’s left of the room is the smell of sex and the lewd slapping of skin. “never knew my angel girl was such a cock slut . . i like her like this too, fuck!”

“always been like this,” you giggle, pulling him in just to tease him as your lips leave hot breaths on his, “just needed the right man to get it out of me, right?”

“that’s right, baby,” toji returns your cheeky smile, before a hand lands another slap on your face and you’re sent over the edge, body trembling under him and pussy spilling all over him. you’re clenching so hard that he can’t move, but like always, your lover never forgets to talk you through it.

“thaat’s it, cream all over my cock, doll,” and he grabs your face lightly again, soothing the area on your cheeks with a small grin.

“at least i know what she likes now . . and i’ll be sure to deliver.”

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ecoamerica · 22 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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ma1dita · 3 months

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partners in crime

luke castellan x fem!dionysus!reader [the trouble!verse]

MAIN SERIES MASTERPOST

summary: few things are certain in this life as a demigod, but one thing is for sure— you can’t fight fate when it pulls you and luke castellan together, over and over again. two young people who hate the gods are more like them than they think, for better or worse. annoyances to best friends to lovers

things to know: dionysus!reader's nickname is trouble & most of these can be read as standalones!

here's a playlist (spotify & apple music links now available!)

child of dionysus headcanons!

trouble!verse moodboard 1 & moodboard 2 & college!trouble by the lovely @24kmar

deleted scenes from a different universe (AUs)

play the extended cuts (blurbs from in-between)

character study: luke castellan & trouble

any works, updates, thoughts, musings, etc about this series will be tagged under #trouble!verse !

key: fluff - ☼ angst - ☽ smut - ☆ jo's favorites - ᥫ᭡

[rewind to before] pre-established relationship

trouble always finds me (trouble!reader origin story) 1.7k ☼

The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. (You're an annoyance, but not an enemy)

entropy ☼

The one where you both blur the lines between annoyance and admiration. (the promise of becoming partners in crime)

buddy system 4.2k ☼

The one where he comes with you to rescue your younger twin brothers, Pollux & Castor. (this is as close to a real quest that Mr. D will give you--might as well take someone you trust!)

somebody's angel 4.4k ☽

The one where you convince him he’s pretty, even with a scar. (songfic - Die Alone - Finneas)

feed the fire 1.2k ☼

The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. (Luke realizes this is more than playful banter)

bedtime stories 2.4k ☼

The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don’t mind at all. (the both of you have feelings you want to admit, but duty calls!)

crazy little thing 3.4k ☼

The one where he uses all his drachmas to make you smile on Valentine's Day. (the Apollo kids are better matchmakers than Aphrodite, sometimes)

anything you want 1.6k ☼

The one where you and him have your first kiss. (You've always loved teaching the story of Orpheus and Eurydice; except when your Orpheus runs away from you)

said he likes crazy 2.1k ☼ ☽

The one where only he can help you with a bad day, even if he's avoided you since your first kiss. (For being a son of Hermes, he has a way of calming your nerves)

[pause and remember us like this] established relationship

play pretend 5.1k ☼

The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren’t exactly together yet. (Drunk words are sober thoughts. Your dad just wishes Luke told you instead of him)

a wish your heart makes 1.4k ☼ ☽

The one where you share dreams, burn cookies, and it still reminds him of home. (The dryads will probably ban you from the kitchen after this)

chance encounters ☼

The one where you both daydream about different lives. (You think you'd find him anywhere, by soul alone)

to see the chaos through ☽

The one where he remembers he was never a good guy, just yours. (Luke makes the ultimate deal with the devil in order to save you)

not your goddess ☽

The one where you both know the best of days eventually have to come to an end. (songfic - Goddess - Laufey)

don't blame the kids ☼

The one where you both chaperone a trip to Mount Olympus. (the Olympians are bigger gossips than you thought they'd be)

trouble's coming for you 3.7k ☼

The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. (three times Percy is oblivious (and in the way) and the time he realizes you and Luke are in love)

now that we're older 3.5k ☼

The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. (Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl)

if you need to be mean (be mean to me) 1.5k☽

The one where he leaves before you wake up. (songfic - I Don't Smoke - Mitski )

[fast forward until we meet again] post-tlt

lovers, or partners in crime 2.1k ☽

The one where Annabeth and Percy think you’re guilty too. (the last day leading up to Luke's betrayal)

love like a blister: the five stages of loving losing luke 4.7k ☽

The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they’re still alive. (the five stages of grief after facing a loss)

to catch a thief 3.7k ☼ ☽

The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. (Your reunion with Luke isn't quite what you expected.)

solipsism 5.3k ☽

The one where you finally pray to Hestia to keep your home safe, even if he's also trying to destroy it. (the four times Luke uses Backbiter to visit you during college ft. the first time you trust a god to help you)

angel with a broken wing ☼ ☽

The one where he falls from grace and still thinks of you. (the four women Luke Castellan risked it for and how it will end up killing him)

love me dry (LATEST ADD) 4.5k ☼ ☽

The one where he meets you at his mother's house, though both of you didn't expect the other to be there. (a glimpse into May Castellan's idea of a perfect day)

when the curtains close☽

The one where you lose two people in the Labyrinth that day. All strings are cut. (Annabeth and Pollux find out the biggest difference between you and Luke.)

asking for trouble ☽

The one where Luke's final wish is to see you. (He's himself again, and all he wants is to find out if the trouble was worth it all)

as above, so below ☽ ☼

The one where you plead your case with the gods of Olympus. (The one thing the fates didn't expect was how much you'd both be like your fathers; in a way, you and Luke didn't see it coming either)

ask to be added to luke/general taglist 🥹

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x reader #pjo series #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo imagines #luke castellan x reader fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #🪽#trouble!verse #percy series #pjo x reader #jo's navi <3

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mauvecherie-writes · 2 months

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so ready: l.hamilton.

pairing: lewis hamilton x pt fem!black reader

summary: you’re his trainer, he’s him, the chemistry is undeniable.

warning: 18+ mdni, EXTREME SEXUAL CONTENT, pwp, fast paced, teasing, dirty talk, degradation kink?, unprotected sex, guys, I’m a slut - we sucking and fucking over here.

notes: I put a break on working on endless melodies, this picture called for my attention and here we are 😩. I also don’t know where the 3.5K words came from 😭 this was meant to be short.

w.c: 3.5K

tags: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @hersinsarescarlet @emjayewrites @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @felicity-x0 @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy

buy me a kofi.

You sighed as you walked through the underground garage of the building. You were mentally preparing yourself to be in your client’s presence. You wish you could have rejected his contract but it was such good money to resist - a resource that you needed at the time - and he was a good man. Refusing to train him would have not made sense outside of the biggest con being that you were attracted to him.

Deeply attracted to him.

Every session was a fighting battle and today would be no different.

It had been seven months since you started working with him. Lewis was very serious about his physical health but he was so flirtatious and it made it hard to concentrate on your job. But today, you promised yourself that you would be serious and not give into his little games.

On the elevator ride up to his penthouse, you trained your mind to block his advances and not give into his charm. However, whether you intended to or not, your outfit choice for the session was along the lines of cute and practical. The grey headband keeping your hair away from your face was matching the gym shorts that you were wearing. Your physique was on display without it coming off as a little desperate. It’s not like you needed to put in any type of effort anyway, you were beautiful enough on your own but the outfit was just a greater temptation for Lewis.

Even though you lied to yourself that you didn’t enjoy the game of teasing that you played with him.

“Lewis! I’m here!” You yelled as you walked through the lobby of his penthouse. The patters of Roscoe’s feet against the marbled floor rang through to your ears. The aging dog ran towards you and it brought a smile to your face. You bent down and grabbed the pup’s face into your hands and caressed the deep folds of his cheeks.

“Hi boy!” You spoke with a high pitch to your voice. “You’ve been good for your Dads when I’ve been away?” He licked the palms of your hands as he wiggled his tail.

“Yeah! Because you’re a good boy aren’t you? It’s your Dad that’s the trouble maker.” You said to Roscoe before standing up straight.

“Oh I’m a trouble maker now?” His voice was the first thing that you heard before you saw him. As you walked to the kitchen to wash your hands, you caught sight of him leaning against the living room area wall as he watched you.

Dressed in a dark grey fitted t-shirt and matching grey shorts with black thermals beneath. His locs were braided away from his face, forcing you to bare witness to his beauty.

“You’ve always been one, don’t act so surprised now.” You replied as you watched your hands. You may not be able to see him but you could feel his eyes on your back. You bit your lip as you wiped your hands and then turned around. Your hands were on either side of your body on the counter as you looked at him.

“When have I ever caused trouble for you darling?” He asked as he stood to his full height and moved closer to you in the kitchen area, stopping by the island and leaning fowards against it.

“Do you really want me to answer that question? Because I have a list of examples.”

He laughed at your response instead of answering. He knew exactly what you were talking about.

“Anyway. Are you ready for our session today? I don’t want any problems this time around. You have somewhere to be and so do I. So no funny games.” You stressed the last part of your statement - more to yourself than to him.

Lewis’s eyes were drooped low, his long lashes nearly touching the apple of his cheeks as they hung low before he trailed them from the exposed skin of your thighs to your flushed cheeks as you held in your breath. His teeth trapped the flesh of his bottom lip to restrict his smile from spreading as he stood up straight.

“I’ll be on my good behaviour. I promise.” His voice was an octave deep and laced with temptation. You knew then, that this training session would be anything but smooth sailing.

A good sparring session was a great way to end a productive session. Lewis stayed true to his word for most of the time but he’d throw in a flirtatious jab here and there that had you flustered. As much as you tried to hate it, you revelled in the way that those comments made you feel.

One last sparring session and you won’t have to see him for another three days.

You needed that breather.

“Come on baby girl. You can give it to me harder than that.” He teased as he bounced on his feet as he moved away from you. You rolled your eyes as you flexed your arms.

“I’m your trainer Lewis. I’m not supposed to be harder on you.”

“I can take it.” He shrugged. “That’s something you’re supposed to be saying in the right circumstances.”

“You’re a cocky little shit!” You stressed as your fingers flexed in the punching mitts before you began to run after him.

“There we gooo. Give me that fire, show me what you got baby.” He smirked at you. You fumed as you stopped chasing him and took off your punching mitts.

“Beating your ass would give me the greatest pleasure.” You said as you threw the mitts down before pulling the bandage wrap out of your open bag.

“I can do many things that can bring you pleasure that don’t involve us boxing.”

“Prove it.” You spat at him.

Before things moved forward, Lewis did the one thing that he knew would disrupt your focus.

He took his shirt off and kicked it close to the edge of the floor to ceiling mirror. All of the witty comments dried in your throat as you took him in. The defined muscles of his abs, the deep pelvis lines, the rich tan contrasting his tattoos and most of all, the budding chest hair.

Involuntarily, your thighs clenched at the sight.

He licked his lips as he watched you struggle for words. He could see the fight in your eyes as you were determined to not fall into the trap of your attraction but your body was failing tremendously.

Fine. You thought. Two can play that game.

Without warning, you grabbed the edge of your top and pulled it over your head. If Lewis thought his naked chest would disrupt you then you could pull the same card. Left in just your padded sports bra, you watched as Lewis became as speechless as you had been.

You were not going to make this easy for him.

Lewis finished wrapping his hands. “I’m ready.”

The both of you put up a good fight. Physically and mentally. Every hit, every jab, felt like a victory in the war of desire. Both of your bodies damp from sweat with how much energy you exerted during this ‘friendly’ sparring session.

You were winning. He asked for your all and you gave it. This was something just to prove to yourself that you could resist him. That you could withstand his charm and that your attraction didn’t lead you blind.

Then he grabbed your wrists and pulled younclose to his body. You gasped as he tightly held your hands behind your back trapping them by his torso as his other arm wrapped around your waist.

“Aren’t you tired of playing this game sweetheart?” He whispered in your ear.

“You started it. Of everyone, you should know how crucial professionalism should be.” You hissed back as you struggled to get out of his hold.

“How could I focus on staying professional when every part of me wants to explore every inch on you. And don’t try to deny it either. I see the way you look at me, the way you desire me in a way that would disgrace the gods.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he spoke. His words were the apple from the tree of knowledge and his voice was the serpent in the garden of Eden.

“I can’t pretend anymore.” He confessed. “I want you YN. I want you so fucking much.”

“Now you admit it.” You say as you squirmed. Lewis held onto you tighter.

“I never denied it darling.” He chuckled in your ear. “You did. We wouldn’t be having this back and forth if you had just admitted that you were into me the way I was into you.”

“That wouldn’t change the fact that I was compromising a client-employer relationship and my reputation just for some dick.”

“This dick would change your life baby.”

“You’re so fucking annoying!”

“Turn around and say that to my face.”

He spun you in his arms before another word could be uttered. You stared at each other with no words spoken as your eyes ventured from their eyes to their lips. The action causing you to lick your lips.

“Cat got your tongue?” He teased as his hands dropped to your waist and pulled you closer. The smile on his face held the promise of everything that he had teased and taunted you about. Wicked and sinful things that had your mouth watering at the mere thought of them.

Body to body like this, the wall that you had been building in your mind had come crumbling down. Not that you had put up that big of a fight anyway but the effort that had been exerted up to now was too much and you were giving it up.

You were ready. You were more than ready.

“You’ve been trying your hardest to break me. And for a while I forgot that I too can play this game very well.” You said as you hooked a finger around the strap of your bra and brought it down your arm.

“I want you Lewis, I do.” You finally admitted. “But you want me just as much, if not more.” You unhooked your bra and flung it across the room. He fought to push the bandages away from his knuckles before embracing you with his big hands running up and down your back.

“If you had just given me the chance, I would loved on you the second I knew that you felt the same.” He whispered as his hands trailed down your back and settled on your ass. He kneaded the flesh of your ass cheeks, drawing you closer so that you could feel his breath on the top of your lip.

You leaned forward and kissed him with all of your might. All of the pent up desire you had been holding at bay for the last seven months burst out of you. You pushed your body into his as he moved his lips roughly over yours, opening your mouth for the sweet intrusion of his tongue as he deepened the kiss. Your nails dug into his back as you wrapped a leg around his waist as you felt the lower part of his body pressing into you.

Lewis moved his hand from your ass, trailing it up your spine before cupping the back of your neck and pulling you inwards. You gasped as he nibbled on your bottom lip, pulling the lip into his mouth. Your pussy creamed at the realisation at just how hard his dick was as it rested against you.

“Let me taste you.” You said as you pulled your lips away. “Please.”

“Do you think you deserve it? After the way you made me feel for wanting you? You think you deserve my touch?”

“Lewis … please.”

“Take these off.” He growled as he tugged at your grey shorts. You made light work of them before stepping back into his embrace. Your small cotton panties were digging into the flesh of your hips but Lewis quickly tugged at the material and shoved them down the length of her legs.

His eyes focused back on your face as he felt your hands move down the back of his head and edge him closer to your core. He pushed your legs further apart as his fingers teased your hot skin. His eyes soaking in every reaction that he drew out of you.

“You have spend the last seven months playing hard to get but here you are, ready to crumble at the touch of my fingers.” Lewis whispered as he pressed kisses onto your stomach.

“You’re talking entirely too much for someone who has pussy staring them in their face.”

“And this pussy is glorious, believe me. But I need you to suffer a little bit.”

He gave you an inch by running his fingers teased along your slit but did not settle his fingers where you needed him the most. Instead of shoving his digits into your cunt like he wanted, he brought them to his lips and licked them clean.

“So good.” He said and then stood straight and buried his face into the crook of your neck. He licked at your flesh before sinking in his teeth. The way he drew your skin into his mouth caused you to moan.

“Lew, please. Please.” You begged before he claimed your mouth yet again. He kissed you hard with his tongue lashing against yours before his teeth sunk into your bottom lip causing the sweetest pain to shoot up your spine. You pushed your body against him as far as your standing position would allow.

He wrapped his hands in your sweated out hair which was reverting back to its natural curl pattern. He pulled away from your lips and stared down at you with the darkest look of arousal tainting his beautiful eyes.

You watched as a cocky smirk etched on his face. You knew Lewis had you. Once your inhibitions were shut down, it was very easy for you to turn to your desires. And that lust had you falling to your knees as you looked up at him as his cock swelled in the confines of his thermals.

You pushed the fabric further down his thick thighs until his cock was revealed and … holy shit.

You knew that Lewis had the inches and the girth to work with but you weren’t expecting it to be so … heavy? His dick was so big and thick but it was nothing you couldn’t work with. Especially with the smugness glazing his eyes, you took it as a challenge.

His legs were spread, standing tall and proud as his dick bobbed in front of you. Heavy, leaking and begging for your oral attention.

“Open your mouth.” He said as he held his cock by the base and pointed it towards your plump lips.

Your mouth quickly hung open and your tongue darted out to lick his tip. You swirled your tongue around the head before you slid most of his dick into your mouth and sucked. You were extra as fuck as you licked and slurped, wanting him to understand the sloppy, messy head that awaited him. That you had been fantasising about this moment for a long time and now you were going to show to show him what you were about.

“Sucking this dick so fucking good.” He groaned as he held your head and tipped it back before moving his hips so that his tip was brushing back against the back of your throat.

“This is what you needed huh? My dick in your mouth to turn you into a little slut for me.” You moaned around him as you stretched your hands out on his torso, feeling his chest hairs prickle against your palm.

You don’t answer him as you continue working your head up and down his length. He felt so good in your mouth. The muskiness of his scent was all that you could think off as your saliva pooled in your mouth the more he worked his hips, fucking your mouth.

You were so eager to suck his dick. You pushed your head down further, taking him deeper down your throat which caused his knees to buckle.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Lewis groaned as he fisted your hair tighter, looking down at you as you moved your head fast, spit bubbles building as your nose brushed against his pelvis before your hand came up to fondle with his balls.

“Just like that. Keep sucking me just like that baby.” He gasped as you continued sucking on him as if you were trying to take his soul. Sure, Lewis had brought you down to your knees but you were making him regret ever thinking that he held all of the cards. There were no words to describe just how good you were sucking his dick. Your hands cradling his balls, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of your throat - this was more than otherworldly.

When you pulled your lips away from him, Lewis felt like he could breathe as you moved your hand around his length in tight, circular motions.

“If I didn’t want to come inside of you, I would have come all over your beautiful face.” He spoke with a hoarseness to his voice before he manoeuvered you underneath him. The gym mats were harsh against your skin but you were past the point of caring.

“Fuck me.” You whispered as Lewis shifted your legs into the crooks of his arms as his dick rubbed against your opening. You reached up and claimed his mouth. His saltiness lingered between each entanglement of your lips. You tasted the remnants of your sweetness in his mouth the longer you greedily moved your mouth against his.

You didn’t care for the way the hard mats were biting into your skin. All you cared about what the surge of lust that burst through you as Lewis rubbed his cock against your cunt. His hand travelled up to your throat and squeezed as he positioned himself in between your legs. Every single gasp and little cry that he pulled out of you pushed him closer to the edge. His lips sought your earlobe as he raised your leg to his shoulder before he finally sunk into your pussy.

You were so soft. So sweet. So tight. So wet. You accepted him like you’d been waiting for him all this time and then clenched onto him so hard that Lewis so felt lightheaded before he could complete his stroke.

Lewis needed to regain his composure but you were a withering mess beneath him. Your scent like a cocoon around the both of you, he couldn’t find his bearings as he found a rhythm to his strokes.

Slow and deep as you arched your back and dug your nails into the skin of his back.

Your lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath with the sexy sounds of your pleasure reverberating through the room, bouncing off the equipment back into his ears.

Lewis let your legs fall back to his waist as he dropped to his forearms so that his body, slick with sweat, pressed against yours. You immediately wrapped both of your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper into you as he resumed his slow, deep thrusts coupled with circular motions that always pulled a sharp, little cry from you beneath him.

For months he had dreamt you like this. Underneath him, begging and crying for him as he deprived your body of pleasure.

Your nipples grazed his chest as he moved. You trailed your fingernails down the length of his back as you pulled him in for frantic kisses as the both of you moved towards the inevitable conclusion.

Lewis pressed his forehead against yours as your pussy started clenching rapidly around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he demanded through his teeth. “Cum all over this dick.”

You screamed his name and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. He covered your mouth with his, swallowing your cries of pleasure, thrusting hard and fast into you as he chased the orgasm building in him.

You scratched at his back, gripped the sheets and bit into the pillow even as you started moving your hips up to meet his dick.

“Lewis!” You yelled as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your orgasm plummeting through your body.

“That’s it sweetheart. Come all over this dick.” He growled into your ear as he bucked his hips hard and fast before the force of his climax had him tensing and twitching in between your legs.

You hummed softly as Lewis returned to himself once his muscles had stopped twitching. All that pent up energy had finally been released and the both of you were butt naked in his private gym.

So many lines had been crossed tonight but either of you cared. Especially when he kissed you senseless and promised you more orgasms than you were ready to give.

London fashion week be damned ….

#mauvecherie writes #so ready fic #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fic #sir lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton #lh #sir lewis hamilton

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btsugarush · 5 months

Text

GANGSTA | myg - 004

summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.

pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader

warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.

word count: 3.5K

authors note: yes, it is here. it only took me 76 years lmao. y’all best give me all the love since y’all wanted to be on my ass about this mf. anyway, enjoy the drama. also this was prewritren with the tags a long time ago so if you no longer wanted to be tagged or if you’re new and wanted to be tagged i’m sorry. the taglist got full but i try to switch out who i tag every chapter.

“Now, are you sure you’re okay? I can personally file a report for you.” Mr. Kim asked for the 6th time. You roll your eyes, fed up with the badgering. You didn’t understand why he cared so much anyway. He was the one that refused to listen to you when you tried to explain why it wouldn’t be a great idea for you to deliver in Gongdan.

You didn’t go into detail about the assault, or even bother to mention Yoongi being the reason it didn’t escalate. You simply just stated to him that you were attacked and managed to slip free.

Luckily for you though, the old man’s guilt for the attack led him to giving you the rest of the day off and you snatched that offer up immediately. Not like he needed your assistance, seeing as the restaurant was practically dead with only about 4 customers. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim. I promise.” You assure him one last time. “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You exit the shop, the door dinging as you do. You spot Mina’s car sitting in front of the restaurant, and she smiles cheerfully as you climb inside. “Hey. Thanks for picking me up so early.” You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “No problem… But why am I picking you up so early? And…” she leans forward, peaking at your ripped shirt. “Why is your shirt ripped?”

You scratch your head, the thought of explaining the situation to Mina made your brain itch. “I had to deliver at the Devil’s playground again, and got attacked.” You kept it short and sweet. Mina’s eyes widened in shock. “What?! Was it that Yoongi guy again?!”

You shake your head. “It wasn’t him, it was this group of guys. Yoongi was actually the one that saved me…” you twiddle with your fingers as your mind wanders about the raven. Mina arches a brow at the gentleness in your voice. “He saved you?” You nod slowly in response. “My god, what does he expect from you now? Sexual favors?”

Of course Mina has to be the most dramatic and think the worst possible thought of everything. “No, he didn’t ask me for any favors. Which I guess is surprising for someone with his track record.” You admit, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Mina starts up the car, finally moving from the restaurant premises. “Please don’t tell me you’re buddy buddy with that thug now?”

You scoff, letting your eyes roll back. “Of course not! The guy is a criminal, and stalker. I’d never befriend him,” You argue, crossing your arms. Yoongi may have saved you, but you weren’t swayed by his heroic charm. “Anyway, enough about me and my shitty day, it’s too traumatic to talk about. Did you have a talk with Jin like I suggested?” You change the subject. Mina’s face drops at the mention of her boyfriend’s name. “Yeah, we talked for about 2 minutes before it all blew up. Now we’re not on speaking terms,” She sighs. “I think maybe I should break up with him…”

You frown. ‘There she goes being the most dramatic again…’

“Mina, don’t be so damn hasty all the time.” You try to reason with the blonde. “I’m not!” She defended herself. “I’m just tired, y/n. I’m tired of trying to figure him out. I’d rather break up with him before he breaks up with me.”

Mina had never been the girl to get her heart broken. In high school she was the one always doing the heart breaking, so you could tell that it genuinely killed her to love someone as much as she loved Jin, and not know where his head was at regarding their relationship. “I don’t know, Mina… I just know if I was in your shoes with Kookie, I’d try to work things out before I think of the worst possible outcome.”

Mina pouts, but she doesn’t continue to speak. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, you were right. She shouldn’t just jump the gun and break up with Jin. Although he was acting strangely and it was confusing the hell out of her. “You know… I’m jealous of your relationship with Kookie.” She suddenly blurts, causing you to turn to her with a raised brow. “Huh?”

“I’m jealous,” she repeats. “Of you and Jungkook.”

You tilt your head to the side, your eyebrows now scrunched in curiosity. “Why?”

Mina simply shrugs, sitting quietly for a couple of minutes before answering. “You two match, and have an unbeatable connection. You started off as best friends, which played in your favor. I met Jin in the hospital because he had a broken arm. We don’t have the history you and Jungkook have.”

You smile at the compliment towards your relationship, but quickly shake your head. “History isn’t everything. Some people marry their high school sweethearts and breakup. You and Seokjin just need to be mature– or you at least.” Mina whips her head in your direction, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean by ‘or you at least’?”

“I mean that sometimes you’re immature. You tend to freak out when things don’t go your way and storm off like a child.” Mina snarls. “I’m not immature.” She muttered to herself, practically proving your point. The car finally slows down in front of your apartment before coming to a complete stop. “Thanks for the ride again, Mina. I appreciate you.”

“Of course. I’m mature enough to pick up my best friend when she needs me.” She glares, your previous comment still not sitting well with her. You shake your head, paying no mind to her attitude. “Bye, Mina. I hope everything works out with Jin.” You pushed open the car door, climbing out.

“Yeah, you and me both.” She mutters her last words before she waits for you to close the car door, speeding off into the distance with you standing there to watch. You let out a sigh, shrugging. What was the point of her asking for your advice if she was always going to dislike what you had to say?

You turn on your heels, walking up the steps that lead to your building entrance. As you venture down the hall to your apartment, you spot a shaggy haired man placing a bouquet of flowers right in front of your front door. A smile forms your face as you see the one person you longed to see after such a horrendous experience. “Kookie?”

The brunette jumps slightly, your sudden appearance catching him off guard. Once he registers that it’s you, he smiles as well. “Well shit, I wanted to surprise you with something sweet when you got off. Guess that’s a fail.” He scratches the back of his neck, chuckling. You shake your head, instantly embracing him with a hug. “It’s not a fail. I’m so happy to see you.” Even though you pretty much talked on the phone with Jungkook everyday, it felt like you hadn’t seen him in weeks.

Jungkook’s tattooed arms wrap around your waist, returning your gentle embrace. “I’m happy to see you too, angel. What’re you doing home so early though? I thought you weren’t off till 8:00?”

You bit down on your bottom lip. You wanted to start crying right there just thinking about what almost happened to you today. You hadn’t told him about your trip to Gongdan yesterday because you didn’t want him to worry, but now you felt as though he deserved to know this time. “I got attacked today.” You take a step back, showing him your torn shirt. Jungkook looks down, dumbfounded at how he hadn’t clocked your ripped shirt when you first walked in.

“By who?!” He shouts. “If it was Yoongi and his gang I swear to god–”

You shush Jungkook, looking around to make sure none of your neighbors were in the hallway eavesdropping. “Let’s talk about this inside, okay?” The brunette is pissed, but he nods, awaiting for you to open your apartment door. He grabs the flowers from the floor as you dig through your purse for your key. ‘I really need to get a keychain for this thing," you thought, finally finding the piece of metal in your bag.

You open the door, and Jungkook wastes no time storming in. He places the flowers on your kitchen table, pulling out a chair for you to sit and explain yourself. Even though he was angry he still focused on your wellbeing. You close the door, unsure if you really wanted to recite the situation. Too late to change your mind now though.

You shuffle to the seat that Jungkook pulled out for you, plopping down. “So? Was it Yoongi’s doing?”

How do you even begin to explain all of this? Yes, but not really? While Yoongi was the reason you ended up in Gongdan, he isn’t the one that attacked you. But he has taken a weird interest in you ever since the Makoto showdown between you and his trusty stooge. If you told Jungkook that though, he'd just spend every moment trying to protect you and probably do something unnecessary to get himself hurt. You didn’t want that.

So, maybe it was best to embellish the truth a bit and leave Yoongi out of it.

“I had a delivery in Gongdan today. Jimin was out sick, and I was the only one that could deliver it. A group of guys attacked me on my way back to the restaurant.” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows. “You had a delivery at the devil’s playground and you took it? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I had to do my job. I had no choice, Kookie. Mr. Kim wasn’t letting me out of it. Believe me, I tried.” The brunette scoffed, redirecting his anger to Mr. Kim. “I should go down there and kick that old man’s ass,” He muttered. Jungkook was never too fond of Mr. Kim. He thought the old man could be a bit misogynistic.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice is now more tender. You shook your head. “No. I’m fine,” You assure him. “The only thing that got hurt is my precious shirt.” You laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood. “Did they just let you go? How’d you get free?” He pressed on.

“Umm…” you trail off, your thoughts once again wandering to the raven haired man.

“So Wonder Woman, you ready to accept that ride today?”

“They got scared off by someone that happened to be walking by. Lucky me, huh?”

Jungkook sighs smoothly, crouching down in front of your chair. He takes your hands in his, interlocking your fingers. “I’m glad you’re okay, y/n. I hate to know you experienced that and I wasn’t there.” He frowns, leering down at your hands. “Jungkook, you’re not gonna be able to be there for everything, and that’s okay. You’re here now, when I need you the most.”

Jungkook looks up at you. “And I’ll stay here.”

“Please remind me to stop letting you pick out movies. You always pick the cheesiest ones.” Jungkook grimaced as you two reached the end of your movie. You wiped stray tears from your eyes, glaring over at your soon-to-be boyfriend. “The Princess Diaries is a classic. I love it.” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, well next time I’m picking the movie. Your selection sucks.”

You gasp, taking a pillow from the other end of the couch. “Take that back.” You cock the pillow, ready to deliver a blow. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry… that you’re ass at picking movies.” You swing the pillow down on him, and his hands go up in self defense as he laughs, his back landing on the couch cushions to better protect his face. You take this advantage to straddle the brunette’s waist, continuing your attack until he ultimately surrenders. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You finally toss the pillow back down to the end of the couch, a victory smirk plastered on your face. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Hard not to when I’m being attacked by a pillow.” He looks up at you, still straddling his waist. Jungkook’s hands slowly roam up your legs, stopping to grip your hips. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Your cheeks heated up with the compliment, and you felt a sudden wave of warmth between your legs that made you anxious. This was it. There was no better time than this to lose your virginity to Jungkook.

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his pierced ones, the metal was cold against you; Jungkook didn’t hold back, or hesitate the moment your lips were against his. Your mouths moved in sync, but sloppily at the same time as though you both wanted it real bad– and you did. Jungkook’s hands moved from your hips, reaching back to cup your ass in his hands, giving your cheeks a squeeze.

You moaned softly into his mouth, rolling your hips over the rough fabric of his jeans until you felt his cock harden underneath you. Jungkook made sure to assist you, his hands pressing you down harder against his confined length. Your panties were soaked, and your mind was in a daze. You were sure that you had dampened his jeans by now. “Fuck, Y/n…” he muttered in between kisses. “We have to stop before I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t stop, I want this.” You whine, rolling your hips faster. Jungkook moans, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, I can’t.” He grabs your hips, forcing you to stop. You take the hint, but you can’t help the pang in your chest. Was there something wrong with you? You didn’t get it. What was he waiting for? You climb off of him, taking your place back on the couch.

It’s silent as Jungkook sits up on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. “Y/n…”

“Save it,” You cut him short. “You don’t want to have sex with me, I get it.” Jungkook shakes his head. “That’s not true. I do.” He argued. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “So then what’s the problem? I’m always practically giving signals that I’m ready and you’re holding back. You have never done that with any girl you’ve dated before me.”

“You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.”

“Right, I’m y/n, the girl that’s been your best friend for years and the truth is that’s probably all you see me as.” Jungkook says nothing, he doesn’t even bother to argue because that’s just something he hates doing with you. “I uh… I should go.”

“Then go.” You snapped. Jungkook nods, standing up from the couch. As he walks to the front door, he looks back at you. You don’t look his way, you just continue to stare forward. “You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.” He repeats; those are his final words before he opens the door and leaves.

Your eyes brim with tears as you finally turn, looking towards the table where Jungkook’s bouquet of flowers sat.

“Well well well, look who made a full recovery today.” You eye Jimin taking orders as you walk into Makoto. Jimin smiles at you, happy to see you in what felt like forever since you two worked together. “Y/n, it’s good to see you too.” He greets. You cross your arms, not in a greeting mood. “I have a bone to pick with you once you’re done here.” You say, walking back to the kitchen to clock in.

“Y/n, good afternoon. How are you feeling today?” Mr. Kim asks you as you grab an apron from the hook, tying the black fabric around your waist. “It’s a Monday, how am I supposed to be feeling?” You speak dreadfully. You barely got any sleep after what happened last night with Jungkook, and now you were at work. Jungkook hadn’t even called or texted you. Not that you wanted him to right now.

“Well, I meant everything that happened yesterday, how are you feeling today?” He reiterates. You grab a time card, swiping it through the clock. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim.” You walk past him, taking a notepad and pen from the cup holder. Jimin walks back into the kitchen, his face suddenly pale like he was ready to puke. Maybe he was sick.

“Hey, um, there’s someone out there at table three that’s requesting for you to take their order.” He says, scratching the back of his neck. You raise a skeptical brow. ‘Requesting me? Could it be Jungkook?’ You thought. Maybe he wanted to talk in person instead of over the phone. You didn’t see why he couldn’t have waited until your shift was over and come to your apartment, but you didn’t argue with the gesture.

“Okay…?” You walk out of the kitchen towards the dining area. As you scope out table three, you don’t see Jungkook, but in fact, Yoongi, Joon, and two other guys you don’t know. That’s why Jimin looked so sickly. You shake your head, sauntering over to their table. “What’re you doing here? Was yesterday not enough?” You snap at Yoongi.

“Nice to see you too,” the raven laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yesterday is the reason I’m here in person, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you getting your pretty self into any more trouble in my hood.” He smirked. “You remember my boy Joon, don’t you?”

“Wonder Woman, it’s good to see you again.” You glare at Joon, rolling your eyes. You didn’t have time for this. Yoongi was the last person you cared to see right now, and you definitely never wanted to see Nam-joon again. “So are you here to order something or are you here to be the bane of my existence?”

“Depends… are you on the menu?” He bites his bottom lip, looking you up and down. Joon, and Yoongi’s other two minions snicker and you’ve decided you’ve had enough of this pig fest. “Okay, goodbye.” You turn to head back to the kitchen, but Yoongi stops you by grabbing your wrist. “I’m just joking around, sweetheart. I’m here to ask you something.” You pull your wrist from his grip, turning back to face him. “Ask me what?”

“Well, I’m having this kickback at my place tonight. I want you to slide through.” You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion. “What on earth would make you think I’d dare to step foot into Gongdan again? And what makes you think I’d go to your shifty ass warehouse?”

“Well, I just thought after my heroism the other day you would want to thank me more properly.” You scoffed. Mina was right. He was expecting some kind of sexual favor from you. “I knew it. You only helped because you thought you could use me later on. I should’ve expected that from someone like you.” You leave their table, making your way back towards the kitchen, but this time Yoongi stands up from his seat to follow you.

“Princess,” He stops you again, his hand grazing your waist, but he doesn’t fully touch you in a manner that came across as though he was trying to respect your boundaries–for once. He steps in front of you, blocking your way to the kitchen. “It’s not like that. I helped you because I wanted to.”

“Is that so? Because it truly didn’t seem like it just a second ago.” You snarled, crossing your arms. The raven makes a “tsk” sound before continuing on. “Sweetheart, if that’s all I wanted from you then I would’ve made you give it to me right there in the alleyway. Regardless of what happened,” His face was stone cold serious. He meant that. You stood silent, not knowing what to say next.

“Listen… sometimes I have these kickbacks, and they’re a vibe, but it would be better if I saw your pretty face there.” His voice is soft, so soft that you didn’t think someone like Yoongi could produce such a tone. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to take a bus through Gongdan at night.”

“So don’t. I’ll pick you up.”

You sigh, slowly feeling yourself ready to cave in and you didn’t know why. You literally could not stand this man. He was a stalker for fuck sakes. A criminal. And yet… here you were ready to accept his invitation because of one good gesture, and a sudden softness to his voice. Yoongi’s eyes search for yours until they lock, a smile forming his face. For a moment as you're looking into the raven’s eyes you begin to question is he really the monster he makes people believe? Or is that all for looks?

“Hey, can we get the check please?” A customer calls out. Your eyes snap away from Yoongi’s. You had almost forgotten you were at work. “Look, I have to get back to work. I’ll… I’ll let you know.” You take your notepad, writing down your phone number. As you rip the paper from the pad, you actually begin to question your sanity. You hand the paper to Yoongi, his lips tilting in a sly smirk as he takes it.

“I look forward to hearing from you, princess.”

Taglist

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youraverageaemondsimp · 7 months

Text

“My darling.” // CelticSlave!Aemond Targaryen x VestalVirgin!Reader

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT, READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

MDNI.

block the tag #MAE:DARK!CONTENT to avoid seeing dark content from me.

Summary: Fetching water a little later than usual shouldn't really affect much of your life right? You're wrong, and you wouldn't find out until you found a celtic slave in a bad condition named Aemond.

WARNINGS: extreme noncon to dubcon, unprotected p in v sex, blood kink, degradation, breeding kink, violence, blood, murder, slight angst, stockholm syndrome(?), reader basically falls in love with Aemond even though he nonconned her, manipulation. not exactly historically accurate, this is just fiction so do not take it heart, hoping it isn't offensive, + not proofread // requested by @slytherincursebreaker !!

WC: 3.5k

You were an illegitimate daughter of a politician in your country, taken away from your mother to keep the scandal underground, you never had an easy life and your father only did the bare minimum, and to say your step mother and half siblings did not like you at all, they saw you as a pest more than anything, when the pontifex maximus was choosing vestal virgins to serve the goddess vesta, he had eyes for your family, specifically your sister but she did not want to go, and so they sent you instead, seizing the opportunity to get rid of you.

It did not mean you were fully free from their clutches however, as you grew in the monastery you were always slightly discriminated against but the other 5 priestess, having heard the rumours about your bastardised birth. But you still managed to get by, you remember how earlier this morning your half sister came to visit you, telling you that she is to be married soon, she came to rub it in your face because you were sworn to celibacy, and you could not engage in activities like such. She even bought her suitor along, who you swore looked at you with such lust, and you felt very creeped out.

This is why you deliberately didn't go and fetch water from the spring earlier today, he often came to visit the temple and watched you perform your duties to the goddess vesta.

Choosing to fetch water at such a late time shouldn't have any repercussions right? I mean, you did not do it earlier because you had a reason not to, not wanting to entertain the eyes of your half sister's suitor, so you're doing it now.

Wrong.

You didn't realise the threat back then, when you found Aemond being beaten up by a bunch of other men, kindness was something that came to you naturally, seeing him in such a state made your heart wrench, you shooed off the other men, reprimanding them for their behaviour and used your status as a vestal virgin to scare them off before looking down at the man who was covered in mud, and seemed to bleeding.

He had silver blonde hair, with only one eye as the other socket seemed empty, you wondered what had happened to him.

“Are you alright?” you ask and you he groans, turning over unto his back, you should leave, you shouldn't help him, but here you are picking him up, leaning his body weight against you and bringing him through one of the secret tunnels in underneath the infrastructure of the building, it was connected directly to another country, was made to use it in order to escape from war or to invade other lands, none of the common folk knew about this, and the people who knew didn't come here often either, as there was no such need for it anymore.

You sit him down in one of the 'rooms' which is just a big spacious squared tunnel, he plops down unto the ground weak and tired, breathing heavily, you quickly went back outside and fetched the water you forgot about and gave some of it for him to drink, you watched as he whimpered, swallowing in pain before he finally looked at you.

“T-thank you.” his voice was so weak, he was barely able to get any words out.

You gave him a gentle smile, and you realised that it was probably late, you had many questions for him but you kept it to yourself for now because you didn't want to bother him anymore, so left back to the temple where you resided.

“Why are you up so late?” you heard the head vestal ask, raising an eyebrow as she took in your appearance, mud covering your prestigious clothing, “I went to fetch the water head priestess, but I fell down on the way back.” you lie looking down, hoping she believes it, and to your surprise, she does believe it, she tells you to go to your quarters after putting the water down, so you do just that.

You visit the badly hurt person from yesterday once again, you knew you were not supposed to have any type of contact with a man, to remain pure as they will taint you, but you really could care less when its about helping others, you found him lying on the ground, likely sleeping, but your footsteps woke him up and he looked at you curiously, you gave him a small smile before giving him the bread you managed to sneak out without anyone noticing, along with water, you gave it to them and sat down, he reluctantly ate it before drinking the water. “Why are you doing this?” he asked you and you shrugged, “Is it so wrong to help a fellow human out?” you question back and he goes quiet, “You i never really got your name, or how you ended up in that situation.” you tilt your head as you watch him purse his lips.

“I am a celtic sex slave.”

You froze, he was a slave.

“My mistress threw me out, and I ended up on the streets without any shelter, and those men just wanted someone to mess with.” he sighs, swallowing the bread. You felt pity for him.

“Till you found me of course, I am extremely indebted to you my lady.” he says and you shake your head no, “I’m no lady, I am a vestal virgin that title is not of my belonging.” You said, and he tilted his head, not understanding what you had meant, he nodded but then his eyes widened “This is such an honour to be in the presence of such a being, sorry you must see me in this state, and… You had to touch me as well.” he apologises and you look down, you shake your head and tell him that it's okay and you did not mind.

You and Aemond had grown closer, he would tell you about his life before he became a sex slave, how he was treated, how you felt extremely bad, how your people treated the Celtics. And so you shared your problems in return as well, he provided you comfort which you lacked all of your life, for the first time you felt wanted, and you could not ignore the feeling that was starting to bloom inside you.

But you pushed it down, you are a celibate, you should not be feeling such things.

Aemond had taken a liking to you, you had a pretty soul as well as a pretty face, the way you looked in your white clothing, and whenever you would fix your scarf over the head afraid that your hair or skin would show made him more curious to see what is underneath the thick robes of clothing even more. He knows damn well that he isn't the first man to ever lust for a vestal virgin, there were many depraved others.

After Aemond recovered, you had showed him around the tunnels and dungeons, various routes that if something happens he can use them to escape, and you also showed the route which led to his country, and he noted it, telling you that he can use this to go back to his own people again and you gave him a small smile.

Though the thought of him leaving makes your heart wrench.

“Aemond, I have to go and attend to my duties now, I will meet you later okay?” you say quickly before leaving.

Though the later never came.

“She was caught sneaking around with a slave apparently, she kept him hidden, surely she committed adultery as well.” you heard the voice of the chief priestess tell the priest.

“That is utmost dishonourable, as a vestal virgin you are sworn to celibacy, how can you do this?!” He yells at you and you flinch, tears streaming down your face.

“I promise! I promise on the flame of vesta that nothing happened between us! I was just helping him out.” you plead on your knees.

“How can I believe you? That you are not ruined? You were helping a sex slave out? you want me to believe that?” he questions and you shake your head.

“Order her death by live burial, she will be buried underground with no food or water.” he commands, tone final.

You watched as one of the virgins who snitched on you, she smiled cruelly and your face turned into a scowl. She was the one who wasn't a virgin, yet you kept her secret knowing what would happen if others found out, but the moment she discovered something about you? She had gone straight to the chief priestess and told her, even fed her lies.

“No! No! Please listen to me! Nothing happened between us! You can check for my virginity if you want! Please.” you cried, at the priest and he simply dismissed you.

You were grabbed by his guards and were being led to your doom, dragged out of the temple forcefully and then the trial was processing when you heard a commotion, accompanied by panicked screams.

“There has been a rebellion! The celtics have rebelled against us!” You hear someone yell, and everyone panics, the guards that were holding you quickly let go before rushing off to fight, you run after them and go to the temple as well, eyes widening in horror as you saw the blood and how few of priestesses were being violated brutally by the rebels, their clothes were being torn by the celtic soldiers and you were spotted by two men who came over to you, grabbing you by your hands and shoving you onto the ground.

“This one's pretty, let me have her cunt first.” you screamed at them to let go and they fought against them, kicking one of them in the shins cause the man to stumble and fall, “This bitch–”

“Stop.”

They both immediately froze up and turned around, and you froze as well, recognizing the voice. “This one is mine, unless you want your heads fucking cut off, fuck off.” he spits harshly at them, and they bow their head before scurrying off and you furrow your eyebrows, Aemond looks at you with a smirk, the empty eye socket from before now held a blue sapphire in its place snuggly.

“This would not have been possible without you, I shall spare you for this.” he begins, pulling you up on your legs by the hair.

“W-why are you doing this?!” you asked in fear and Aemond shrugged before explaining, “For the benefit of my people of course, you Romans have treated us as nothing but barbarians, however I do not blame you for that, you are a kind soul.”

“I threw my life away for this, let myself get touched by filthy hands for this moment, and finally, it was all worth it in the end.” he chuckles cruelly, and you scrunch your face in a scowl, “The emperor—” you begun but you are quickly cut off by him yanking your hair and making you face where a body was laying, head detached from the body, he tuts, “This one?” he pulls out a head and shoves it right up into your face and you push it away, screaming, he lets gos of the head and it falls to the ground rolling away.

“He was nothing but a coward, running off in the secret tunnels, letting his people die, unworthy of ruling over the people, so instead, I became the new emperor.” he clarifies.

“If you are going to kill me, just do it already.” you spit, and he looks surprised at this.

“Doll, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it long ago, besides I said that I would already spare you, since you were a kind soul, and once again, without you, I would not be here.” he smiles cruelly and you feel your stomach twist.

His grip on your hair leaves before it's attached to your forearm, hand gripping the skin cruelly as he drags you somewhere, and you noticed that it was the head priestess room, the nearest one in the temple. You quickly realised what he wanted to do, so you started struggling, annoyed by this, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, before carrying and entering the room inside, securing the curtain shut before he threw you on the bed.

You try to get up and run away but he pushes you on the bed, gets on top of you, and yanks your clothes away, tearing at your robes harshly, revealing your body to him, you quickly hide yourself but he pins your hands to your side and takes in your body, he groans at the sight of your chest heaving up and down, you wriggle underneath him, trying to kick him off but he captures your legs and pushes them apart before planting himself in between them.

“No! Please! No!” you cry out but he shuts you up with one of his hands, the other one quickly undoes his breeches, revealing his hard cock, he gives himself a few pumps and lines it up against your entrance. His tip prods at your entrance, he doesn't wait a second before shoving his cock inside of you, ripping your walls apart, making you scream in pain as you struggled beneath him, he watches as your blood leaks onto his cock, and his smiles at that before he looks at you, watching tears stream down your face as he takes what he wants, he immediately sets his pace at a brutal one, ramming his cock in and out of you.

Each movement was painful for you, your cries and screams muffled by his hand, your body jolting up the bed as he brutally thrusts inside, traumatising your walls, the free hand grips your breasts cruelly before he pinches your nipple harshly, causing you to arch your back, and whine loudly.

Using the least amount of strength you have you push him heavily off, and to your luck it works cause he is caught off guard making him fall next to you, and before you could get up and run, he grabs your waist and pushes you back onto the bed again, getting on top of you and choking your neck with both his hands.

“I was going to spare you, but it seems you do not want that, take it or fucking die.” he spits on your face and you wince, crying out once again as he enters inside you.

Your body betrays you, you know it when it suddenly starts to feel good, his tip hitting a certain spot inside of you, and soon you're moaning as well, unable to process this foreign sensation. “Yeah, that's more like it, my brave girl.” he coos and bends down to kiss your neck and you whimper when he bites down at your sensitive area.

You grab onto his shoulders for support, and he hums in satisfaction, one of his hands travel down to your clit before rubbing fast circles it, and you felt your stomach tighten at that, before something snapped and you were moaning extremely loudly, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure hit you like a huge wave.

You cried out his name, and he hushed you and continued to thrust inside of you, grunting, you felt his thrusts become more sloppy before he halted, pushing himself into you as far as he could go, and moaned as his seed spurted out of him, he slowly rode it out, painting more of your walls white.

“I want to see you pregnant.” his hand rests on the lower part of your abdomen, as he caresses it gently with his thumb, before pulling out and leaning down to pepper kisses on the area, as if a kiss will ensure your pregnancy.

His hands fondle with your boobs, thumbs flicking the nipples as he massages the flesh, “they will be filled with milk..” he says in a daze.

You saw him getting hard again and your eyes widened, before you could get up on your elbows, he pushed you down once again again, holding your legs apart and pushing them up, making the knees bend, touching your chest.

He lines his cock before shoving it brutally inside again, he trapped you in a mating press while he thrusted above, your walls drummed with pain at the overstimulation, you were whimpering.

“Fucking it take it you slut, look at how your expression matches that of a whore.” he degrades you, hips snapping at each words, you felt a sting in your heart at his mean behavior.

“This is what you were made for, to be a fucking whore that men can use, not a vestal virgin, having this much of a perfect cunt and wasting it is unbelievable.” he groans and you feel tears start to fall down at his insults.

He pulled back and groaned at the sight of how there was still blood covered on his cock, your blood which coated him so perfectly, and he felt him nearing his edge, his hand gripped your cheeks before forcing your mouth open and then he spit into it, “Swallow, you whore.” he commands and you obey scared.

“Fuck, you're my whore aren't you? my pretty little whore who will let me fuck my children into.” he moans. “I can't wait to make you mine, my empress who will rule along with me, give me children, my darling- oh fuck—”

You felt the familiar feeling of heat arise in your stomach again, as he hits the same spot again and again, and soon enough, you're once again reaching your peak, arching your back at the intensity, he then finishes inside of you again.

That night was a nightmare, he took you multiple times, he made you take him in your mouth, and he did the same, lapping at your cunt for hours on end as he relished in your taste.

You remember passing out, unable to take anymore as exhaustion weighed upon you.

You woke up groaning, you slept like a baby, that's until you moved a little bit and your body aches like hell itself, and you get up, stretching to relieve the pain, you looked over to your side and spotted Aemond fast asleep, completely bare and then you remembered the events of the night prior.

You saw the sheets which were now covered in your blood, your virgin blood, and you were pure no more. You felt doom settle in your core but you felt relieved in a weird sense of way.

Suddenly there was a commotion outside, you gathered whatever was left of your robes before covering yourself with it, hiding your intimate parts and exiting the room.

You gasped as the scent of blood hit your nostrils, and almost threw up, but then what caught your eye made you surprised, you noticed how the head priestess, and all the people who have wronged you in the middle, tied up as the guards lazily kept them in check.

When they spotted you, they screamed insults at you and you winced, anger coursing through your veins at such an intense rate.

“My empress, look at them, look at the people who wronged you.” you heard Aemond whisper in your ear from behind you, and you got startled, you turned to look at him and you watched as he was almost naked except the sheets which were loosely held together by him on his lower body, hiding his intimate part, the same sheets which were covered in your blood.

“Look at them, see how they are still blaming you? What do you want to do huh? Does it not make you mad?” he asks and you turn your attention back to them again, it frankly does make you mad. “I would never treat you like that, I love you. My queen.”

“What do you want, my little empress?” he asks and you make up your mind.

You collect the water in a small dish and Aemond watches you in confusion, but then you make your way towards the flame of vesta, and pour water over it, putting it out and the head priestess' eyes widen in horror.

“Kill them all.” your voice was more clear than ever.

“Spare the head priestess, and that one, for they shall be buried alive.” you say coldly before you walk back to Aemond, who welcomes you in his arms.

“You heard your queen, do as she commands.” he orders his men before he escorts you away from the scene and into the room once again.

He pushes you on the bed and crawls atop of you, “I wasn't joking when I said I want you pregnant, doll.” he coos and you gulp.

“Impregnate me, my king, I want to carry your heirs.”

And that was enough to make Aemond go insane, before he took you once again.

And soon, you fell pregnant.

Giving birth to a girl, who Aemond adored.

Life seemed to be well and perfect.

Maybe you don't really regret this at all.

———

GENERAL TAGLIST ;

@watercolorskyy @cl-0-vr @chompchompluke @namelesslosers @snowystark @spookyaemond @sweethoneyblossom1 @this-isnt-madness @persephonerinyes @eltherevir @sidni3003 @aleidag1rly @cryingforlife @fan-goddess @hannaeditzs @grungegrrrl @thekinslayersswordhand @aemondsbabygirl

Bold is who I cannot tag, DM to be removed!

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond x reader smut #aemond targaryen x reader smut #MAE:DARK!CONTENT #aemond targaryen #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond targaryen #dark!fic #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #house of the dragon smut #aemond fanfiction

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lakefu · 15 days

Text

A Perfect Warmth 🕯️

Summary: Astarion and Tav take a well deserved break away form the chaos of their adventures at an inn inside Baldur's Gate. They need to clean up and get back on the road but they keep getting distracted. Perhaps plans could be delayed for a night of passion...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Tags: 18+, Explicit, fluffy smut, brief Astarion trauma response, PIV, erogenous elf ears, scent kink, blood + biting, a bit of praise, a bit of edging... a sprinkle of cockwarming...., these guys are in love...

Word count: 3.5k Note: This was my first fic originally uploaded on Ao3 on 11/27/23, inspired by the patch #4 dev note mentioning adding sponges to clean your companions. I've made edits from the Ao3 post.

“Remind me to sell this junk next time we pass by a merchant, would you dear?” Astarion was seated at the edge of the bed and rummaging through his traveler’s pack, placing various items on the nightstand for further examination. Two silver forks, an old necklace, and a handful of various polished stones ended up on the table before he plucked out an intricate sapphire ring and held it up to the sunlight peeking through the window.

“Good taste,” he muttered to himself. He placed the ring on his pinky finger in amusement and resumed the scavenge.

“It’s going to get difficult sneaking up on people if I have to lug this heavy thing around you know.” He threw over a glance at Tav, who was preoccupied with gathering laundry together in preparation for the next day.

“It wouldn’t be so heavy if you didn’t pocket nearly every shiny thing we came across,” she teased, without even looking over at him.

He gasped dramatically. “Framed by my own lover? Quite the scandal. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the near dozen times you’ve asked me to hold onto your things because your own pack was too full.”

“Hmm. Maybe. I guess that might sound sort of familiar…” She giggled to herself and walked into the bedroom to catch his eye, meeting him with a mischievous grin.

“Why are you such a- oh! Now, what’s this you’re wearing?” Astarion blinked and scanned her up and down, clearly enthralled by the wardrobe change. She stood there in an old linen robe that was yellowed with age, definitely unlike anything he had ever seen her in before.

“Just some old thing I found in the dresser here, isn’t it just fabulous?” Tav's words were dripping in sarcasm and yet she smiled, performing a grandiose little spin in the middle of the room as if she was wearing the most beautiful ball gown in the world.

“I… it’s just so different from your usual armor or that drow nightwear you fancy so much. You look so… domestic.” His eyes were locked onto Tav intensely, with brow furrowed as he seemed to be confused by his own words.

She felt her heart skip a beat and a flush run to her face.

“And you think that’s a good look for me?”

His eyes softened and he paused a moment before quietly answering.

“Yes… I do.”

Tav watched as his smile faded and the gaze of his eyes became increasingly more distant. The atmosphere seemed to shift and a slight panic ran through her body. Did she do something wrong? No... and it didn’t require a tadpole connection to get an understanding for what had brought down his spirits.

Astarion hadn’t considered a comfortable domestic life was possible for someone like him. Even the slightest concept of such a thing had been buried for over a hundred years, and he never expected it to resurface. Was he worthy of such a thing, and was it even possible?

Oh, it was possible. The evidence was standing right in front of him, spinning circles in an ugly bathrobe. He could see glimpses of a happy future that was so close to being a reality he nearly felt nauseous. Not because he was unsure of himself, but because there were still too many unresolved matters they had a duty to attend to. Too many missions and stupid little quests that could now go wrong and threaten this idea of a happy ending he never even knew was possible.

Everything was different now that he realized what was possible, and he suddenly felt an unknown and uncomfortable pressure. All he knew was that he couldn’t afford to lose in the upcoming battles. Battles that some would say were impossible, suicidal even. The thought of loss at this point was beyond unbearable. It was sickening just to think about.

“Hey!!” Tav ran up to where he was sitting on the bed and took his head in her hands. She placed a delicate kiss on his forehead, knowing she had to get him focused on something else.

“Why don’t we go to the shop right now and get rid of that stuff,” she motioned to the collection of items that had been gathered on the nightstand.

“Wouldn’t hurt to get some more coin in our pockets, right?” She looked at him expectantly and felt a huge relief as a light seemed to return to his eye and meet her view.

“Please tell me you aren’t going to wear that horrid robe to see the merchant,” he sighed and looked up at her pleadingly.

“Of course not!! I’ll change and- oh gods!!! We’ve got to get this blood off your face, the merchant is going to think we are trying to kill him!” Tav exclaimed as she lightly shook his shoulders, and quickly began examining his body to see how much cleaning would have to get done before they could leave.

“Blood… on my face?” He raised an eyebrow and brought a finger to his cheek.

“Yeah!! Well, it’s all over you really, dontcha remember earlier today, fighting those cultists?? You sneaked up behind one of ‘em and BAM!!! Just obliterated with a single strike, it was amazing!! You’re so strong…you know.” Her pulse was racing at the mere memory of the event as she delicately traced the side of his face with her fingers and ventured down to his chest.

“Ah of course. That was all so terribly easy I’d nearly forgotten,” he said proudly, adjusting his posture and keeping his eyes on Tav’s hand movements sliding across his chest. Her soft touch was becoming more firm as her fingers made their way toward his arms, giving his biceps a teasing squeeze before leaning her face into his and teasing a kiss.

Before their lips could touch, Astarion wags a finger in between their faces as if to remind Tav of the task at hand.

“Alright my sweet, let’s clean up shall we? You’re my mirror after all. So, go on then.” He took her hands into his own and gave them a kiss before placing them back at her side, encouraging her to go and gather whatever it was she needed to get him cleaned up.

Right, the supplies. It was nearly impossible to remain focused after moments of intimacy with him, no matter how brief they were. She quickly moved into the other room to acquire the washcloths and bucket of soapy water that she was using for herself not too long ago. Hands full, she scurried back to the bedroom to meet her lover, who hadn’t moved an inch.

As she approached him, Tav could feel the tie on her robe becoming increasingly more loose with each step that was taken across the floor. The embarrassment hit her as she realized she didn't have any hands free to do anything about it. She quickly tried to put the bucket down by the bedside, but the bending movement only resulted in the robe slipping off one of her shoulders, exposing a bare breast.

“Oh? You haven’t got anything on underneath?” Astarion cocked his head in amusement, eyes unmoving from the newly exposed skin.

“Ye-yeah that’s the whole point of robes isn’t it? I was doing laundry earlier ya know and umm,” She laughed nervously and started to fix the wardrobe malfunction but was quickly stopped by a hand over her own. Astarion reached out toward her until both hands were around her waist and pulled her in close to his body. Fangs were peeking through his devious smile while determined eyes looked her up and down. With a singular finger he crept over to the loose knot of the robe’s tie and flicked it completely undone with one swift movement.

Tav shuddered and felt her body starting to run warm despite now being suddenly exposed to the cool air of the inn. She was completely revealed to him now, the robe only just clinging to her arms and draped across her backside.

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he sighed and began kissing her stomach and caressing the curves of her waist. “Come here.”

Tav gasped as she felt his cold grip around her waist tighten as he expertly lifted her up onto his lap with ease. Pleased at the new angle, Astarion shifted his attention to kissing the crook of her neck and started moving down her chest. He delightfully found her nipple with his mouth in no time, and teased it in circles with his tongue just as he knew she liked it. His gentle sucking continued for only a few brief moments before he suddenly withdrew and cleared his throat.

“Ah, well. You can reach my face better up here I’m sure. For the cleaning of course,” he said smugly. The elf leaned back and admired the view of his lover, nude and flustered, perched oh-so perfectly on top of him.

“The cleaning…” Tav nodded and remembered she still had a warm and soapy washcloth in her hand. The urge to throw the stupid cloth into some unknown corner of the room was nearly undeniable. All she wanted in this moment was for him to take her completely, in any way he wanted, it didn’t matter as long as she ended up getting fucked into oblivion. So fine. On with the cleaning.

She raised the washcloth to his temple and slowly began to wipe away the dried blood by working down his face. His cheeks were a bit sunken as usual but flushed adorably in this moment, clearly enjoying the tender rubs of cloth on his skin. She continued rubbing down toward his chiseled jawline, across to his lips, and back up the other side to repeat the process once more. She ran her fingers through his silver curls and noticed his ears would need cleaning too.

One hand caressed the pointy ear to keep it in place and the other brought the washcloth in for a gentle scrub. A quiet moan suddenly escaped the vampire’s lips.

Oh? She had seemingly discovered a sensitive spot and noted that she would have to continue her work carefully. The scrubbing continued but Tav couldn’t keep her eyes off his face now. His eyes were closed but still noticeably moving behind their lids, and his lips were slightly parted with his breathing becoming increasingly heavier and more noticeable.

Astarion was in his own world of pleasure. What in the hells had he been doing these past weeks, aimlessly scrubbing himself clean alone in the river when they could have been doing this the whole time instead?

He opened his eyes just to make sure it wasn’t all a dream. She was still there of course, diligently and lovingly taking such good care of his body. A wave of maddening lust rushed through his core and he needed her closer. He needed her as close as physically possible and even more so after that.

Their eyes met, revealing intense desires. Tav lowered her hands and she spoke slowly, “Can you take your shirt off? There’s a spot I can’t get to with it on…”

She wasn’t fooling anybody, but he obeyed without hesitation. The shirt was gone in seconds, revealing his pale and perfectly sculpted chest. It was a sight that Tav never tired of admiring, and was in fact the subject of distracting daydreams on the daily. She shifted her body closer to his and continued scrubbing his neck and chest, despite it becoming increasingly more difficult to focus. Deep breaths.

She had always been fond of his cologne that he was quite proud of concocting himself. The scent of aged brandy, bergamot, and rosemary was now forever an Astarion specialty that she could never forget. Even during times of battle or travel, a gust of wind could carry his essence to her and bring along with it a sense of reassuring familiarity. As she continued to wipe him down, however, a different scent began to come to the forefront.

It was something that did not seem completely foreign, but it wasn't immediately identifiable either. There was something about taking it all in that felt forbidden. Tav tried to pinpoint what she was experiencing. He smelled earthy… raw… unnatural… it was without a doubt, the undeath.

An undeniable heat rose through her body as she engulfed herself with this pure scent from her lover. The washcloth, the bed, the entire room seemed miles away, and nothing felt coherent except for a craving to be even closer to him. Nothing else existed except their bodies and her overwhelming desire to-

“Eager, are we?” A sultry voice snapped her back into reality, where piercing red eyes amusingly greeted her return. She suddenly became aware of a presence between her thighs and glanced down, realizing she was sitting atop a clothed bulge. His hands had a firm grip on her backside and his encouraging movements made it clear she had been absentmindedly grinding on him during her trance.

“Shit, I got carried away…” She hadn’t taken her eyes off his crotch and began to notice that her excitement had left a dampness on his clothes. Embarrassment nearly overtook her, but a gentle yet confident hand grabbed her chin and brought it up to meet his gaze. He leaned into her with a grinning open mouth and kissed her passionately, tongues intertwining.

She felt his fangs briefly scrape against her tongue every so often until a metallic taste became increasingly noticeable. She didn't mind the blood, especially since it seemed to enhance his arousal as noted by his hips continuously jolting faster up into her exposed crotch. Tav was soon pleasantly overwhelmed between his deep kisses and desperate hands groping her at every curve of her body. She longed to give him everything; her blood for his hunger, her body for his pleasure.

Tav released herself from the kiss they had been locked into and tilted her head so that her neck became exposed as an undeniable gift. His mouth lunged at the presented spot as soon as it was noticed, fangs immediately sinking in deep. Tav cried out at the initial impact but soon was reveling in the experience. It was a perfect mixture of pain and pleasure that she was only capable of experiencing from him.

He remained on her neck for a while, still tightly holding on to her body and keeping one hand free to reassuringly caress the back of her head. It was only after the blood flow slowed to a near stop did he cease his medley of licking and sucking at the wound. Blood dripped down his chin and onto his exposed chest, but he was ultimately unfazed. He leaned back, clearly happy and mostly satisfied, but there was still a different type of satisfaction he had left to chase.

Astarion's throbbing erection was begging to be released from its clothed restraints. He quickly untied his pants and shifted his underwear to finally free it. He moaned a few incomprehensible words of relief and stroked himself a few times before looking up at Tav for approval.

Tav had been staring at his length from the moment it was exposed, an impressive size for an elf, no doubt. Her eyes fixated on his perfectly pink tip, glistening with precum just for her. She immediately fantasized of shoving him down her throat until she choked and cried, but that was a fantasy for another day. In their current position, they both knew there was only one simple way of how to continue.

“Astarion,” she whimpered. “Fuck me.”

Tav sat up on her knees and positioned herself so that her entrance was just nearly grazing the head of his dick, ready to take him in completely at any moment. She grabbed ahold of his shaft and guided the tip back and forth through her folds until he was covered in her slick. The new sensation of the friction between them left them both gasping and desperate for more.

Suddenly, finally, his arms wrapped around her body as he pulled her down onto him with one firm motion. Astarion grunted through his teeth while Tav moaned unapologetically, focusing on relaxing enough to allow her body to adjust to his length inside of her.

The temperature differences between their bodies only heightened the feelings of pleasure whenever they became one. Her warmness was intoxicating to him, granting a sense of safety and bliss that was impossible to achieve anywhere else. He was already so close to the edge in this moment, but was not ready to give in just yet. He wanted this moment of heaven to last as long as possible.

Meanwhile, Tav was having the time of her life riding her man like there was no tomorrow. She had no intent to slow down until a pair of large hands suddenly gripped her hips in a way that prevented any further movement.

“I’m not done with you yet, love. Didn’t you notice the mess I’ve made after feasting on you?” Astarion took a finger to his chin and smeared a bit of Tav’s fresh blood down his neck.

It was true, he had made a mess. Quite uncharacteristically of him in fact. Tav had assumed he had simply gotten careless in his horny and feral craze but no- it was clearly all calculated.

“Just be still and sit nice and pretty on my cock. Finish the cleaning, then I’ll take care of you myself. How does that sound?”

How does that sound? His words echoed in her head, which was already spinning plenty enough as it was. She was unsure if it was from the blood loss or her seemingly never ending carnal desires, but perhaps it was both. One thing was certain, however, he could convince her to do damn near anything speaking in that low and lustful tone of his. Without uttering a word she slowly brought the washcloth up to his chest.

“Good girl,” he whispered. He felt her body twitch around him in response to the praise, and he leaned back to relax and enjoy these final few moments of intimacy.

It had taken everything in Tav's power to remain still while she worked. It wasn't exactly easy to focus- she was being split in half by a whimpering vampire beneath her after all. Astarion’s skilled fingers had been dancing around her swollen clit the whole time, just enough to keep her stimulated but never enough to let her come.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the blood was all cleaned up. She hadn't even realized when it happened or how he did it, but his pants were completely gone now. She reached over to place the cloth down and awaited her reward of sweet release.

Astarion’s hands moved to the knees that were straddling him and slowly pushed them farther apart, spreading Tav’s legs open bit by bit. She inhaled sharply as she took him in deeper. He opened her up more and more until she lost her balance and fell backwards onto his expectant embrace.

“Relax darling, I’ve got you,” He purred in reassurance.

Astarion took her entire weight in his arms with ease and laid her down amongst the soft pillows of the bed. He nestled himself comfortably between her legs, making sure their bodies were flush with one another. Nearly smothered by his body now, all Tav could do was claw at his back and arch her hips into his powerful thrusts. His mouth frantically traveled across her lips and neck with desperately wet kisses until he settled near her ear with a playful nibble.

“You’re so beautiful…” He whispered tenderly, while the rhythm of his lovemaking became increasingly sporadic. “So fucking perfect… Gods…just for me… I love you… so much...”

“Star, I- ah!” Her words cut short as she felt something snap within her. Pure ecstasy- she was falling and flying somewhere a million galaxies away and never wanted to come back. Obscene noises and curses filled the room as they rode out each other’s high in tight embrace. The smell of sex lingered in the air as their bodies heaved with labored breaths, finally collapsing on each other in exhaustion.

They laid together a while longer, exchanging soft kisses and enjoying the short moment in time where nothing else in the world mattered. Eventually, Astarion rolled out of the bed and stood up to stretch.

“Tsk, looks like it’s my turn to clean you up my dear,” He said with an accomplished grin, eying how her thighs were dripping with his sticky mess.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move an inch. Actually, I doubt you can move at all after that, ahaha!” He laughed and leaned over to brush aside a strand of Tav’s sweaty hair that was stuck to her forehead before walking over to the other room.

“Shut up… dummy…” she smiled to herself and rolled over, feeling at ease enough that the weight of sleep was starting to overtake her.

“I love you too, Astarion.” Her eyes closed as she drifted off into a peaceful slumber, knowing that her lover would soon come back to her side like he always did, and always would.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #bg3 astarion #astarion fluff #bg3 #astarion fanfiction #vampire fanfiction #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #bg3 smut

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emissaire · 1 month

Text

is it hot in here? - jjk men x reader (part i)

based off of these headcanons i wrote almost 3 years ago lmao

warnings/tags: crack, fluff, mature language, housemates! geto, gojo, nanami, choso & sukuna, neighbor! toji, implied reverse harem, mature language, mushy nicknames given to the reader because i absolutely refuse to use “y/n” lmao, a slight slice of life ig, half of em have beef w/ little megumi, nanami is the only normal person in the house, talks abt food // wc: 3.5k // lmk if i missed anything!

It's hard being a college student, barely thriving in an environment filled with stressful deadlines you need to meet, sleepless nights just to maintain your GPA, things that need to be done each week and to top it all off, working as a bookstore clerk in your free time to help shoulder a bit of your student loans and everyday expenses. To say it simply, life is hectic. The odds seemed to be stacked against you as things appear to be getting even worse when you received an eviction notice from your landlord, giving you just a week to find a new place to stay.

On day five, you were fortunate enough to find an affordable and decent place that is a 20-minute drive away from your university. Though you find it a little suspicious since the rent is fairly cheap and it isn’t exactly an apartment complex but a house shared by five other people, you decided, screw it. You're desperate, certainly you don't want to be homeless? Besides, the place is neat and plenty huge. What's there to complain about?

Thursday morning, after a few back-and-forth texts with your manager at the book shop, begging him to let you off, you managed to haul most of your things to your new place with the help of your ever-gracious friend, Aoi. By the time you manage to get all of your things in your designated room, the other occupants are still nowhere in sight. You feel somehow comforted by that fact, still bothered by feeling like an intruder.

Weariness slowly seeps into your bones and without much fight, you let sleep consume you, laying down on the barely set-up bed in the middle of your disorganized space without any heed to the mess of boxes littered on the floor and the wide opened door of your bedroom.

It's eerily quiet. Kento notes as he pushes the front door open with a sturdy hand, Choso and Suguru in tow. They're all exhausted from the chaotic buzz of the outside world, their shoulders finally loosening in relaxation at the familiar interior of their shared home.

"Oh— our new housemate should be here by now, correct?" Suguru breaks the silence, eyeing the place in search of a new face although he's only met by empty and unknowing stares. There is no sound of boxes being moved around, not even thuds of feet against the floorboards to indicate someone’s presence in the house aside from theirs.

"Maybe they postponed the move?" Choso offers, barely caring about his friend's concern as he struts to his own room so he can finally rest. Though his footsteps halt as soon as his eyes catch the sight of the supposed empty room— oh, someone's here.

"In here." He calls to the other two and within seconds, three pairs of eyes are prying into your room, one judgingly and two out of amusement.

"It's a girl." Kento speaks, eyes sweeping the entire space with both concern and a hint of astonishment at the cluttered boxes. How can she sleep with all that mess?

"Indeed." Suguru's face is embellished with a smile that he fails to contain. Choso could only elbow him in a scolding manner. The former, seemingly taking after a certain white-haired man's antics, dramatically howls and falls forward, slumping against his blond friend's back while he clutches his side.

"Get off!" Kento chides, shrugging the other male off of him.

You have always been a light sleeper, even the tiniest sound could wake you up from a good slumber. It's no wonder you're getting roused out of sleep by the ruckus made by the three individuals standing just outside of your bedroom door. It takes you a minute to realize though, blinking at them in confusion before scrambling up to your feet to greet them in your haze.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry for the mess! I'm the new tenant, it's so nice to meet you guys, finally!" You bow your head a bit in greeting, flashing the three a sheepish smile.

"It's no problem. You've only arrived, the mess is inevitable." The long-haired man says kindly, his eyes crinkled as he offers you a charming smile. "I'm Suguru, by the way. This is Kento," he gestures to the blond man who is already looking at you, a small yet amiable smile on his face too, "and Choso." Said man makes a saluting gesture to greet you.

You quickly introduce yourself, albeit a little timid. Being in the presence of three good looking men sure would make anyone almost melt on sight.

"Do you need help with unpacking?" Choso offers gently, the three of them waiting for your answer. Though you quickly turn it down politely, not wanting to be a bother on your first day here. Besides, the three of them probably have things to do, like resting. Kento stifles a yawn while Suguru’s eyes look sluggish while he leans on the equally tired-looking Choso.

"Well, okay. If you need any assistance, you can call us. Choso's room is right beside yours, mine and Suguru's are upstairs." Kento tells you and there's something about the way he sounds so caring despite only meeting you that makes you heat up and giddy.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, guys." With that, they leave you to your own devices so you can start unpacking and cleaning up.

It takes about an hour or two of silence before a tall figure blocks your door, 6 or something feet tall hovering in your room like a nosy child. "Hey there!"

"Hello?" You greet him back despite the confusion, watching him step over unopened boxes and check the things you've managed to set up in your room. He reminds you of a curious dog, sniffing around the space in interest.

Once he deems it enough snooping, the man strides over to you, looming over your frame as he looks at you through the sunglasses perched perfectly atop his nose bridge. "Satoru. It's nice to finally meet you." He says your name after his greeting and you look at him questioningly.

"Ahh, Suguru texted me about you." His stark white hair is distracting as you look up to meet his eyes and you can only nod in response.

"Get back here, you lunkhead!" A deep, agitated voice echoes in your room, coming from another tall (and another good-looking) man, stepping into your space, seemingly after someone though he immediately stops once he spots you in front of Satoru.

Sukuna's eyes flit along your body from head to toe before he acknowledges you with a friendly wave though the suggestive smile he has is anything but. He introduces himself with confidence, standing big and almost imposing despite being a head shorter than Satoru.

What is up with your housemates being obnoxiously attractive?

7 months. It took you 7 long months to get used to the presence of your housemates without getting all jumpy. Sure, you still get flustered when Choso pats your head so affectionately every time you thank him for buying snacks for you; you stutter when Suguru teases you about your bedhead with a pinch to your cheeks; you start rambling when Kento asks you about your day and he only smiles and listens to you; you feel all hot and bothered when Satoru presses himself up against you when you cook or even when Sukuna parades himself around the house half-naked like it's no one's business, but hey, it's still progress!

"Hey, earth to, darling!" Suguru waves a hand in front of your face once he notices you've been staring into the distance in the middle of your conversation.

"Huh? Sorry, what was it again?" You're certain that the tips of your ears are red from getting caught spacing off again. You don't want him to get the wrong idea and assume that you find him boring— as a matter of fact, he is far from boring.

Geto Suguru is nowhere near bland and basic. Him and his inky, long, black hair that cascades along his back so beautifully you're almost jealous of it. Suguru, with the way he's always so gentle with you despite his tendencies of being playful. It's all in good fun but he never takes it too far as to hurt you. Sometimes you can even share a good back-and-forth conversation about just anything and nothing, like you’re supposed to be doing now, if he's not out being stupid with Satoru. It's just that recently, you find yourself daydreaming about your roommates at the most inappropriate times of the day.

The latter only laughs, nudging your cheek with his knuckle affectionately before he shakes his head. "Forget about it. Let's just bother Choso to cook for us. What do you say?" You're certain that you and Suguru are going to be yelled at but you indulge him anyway.

Choso was distant during your first few months in the house, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by being all up in your space like two of his friends were (are? since it's an occurrence that is still happening at present time), namely Satoru and Sukuna. He's warmed up to you now, bringing you snacks that you mention to him in passing every time he gets back from university. He's so attentive and caring in his own way and you appreciate all that he is. A wonderful man with such a wonderful face, you could stare at him and admire the horizontal tattoo across his face all day.

"No, I'm not gonna cook for you. Bother someone else." You were halfway down the hall when Choso steps out of his room with a disapproving frown. You swear, he's got some weird telepathic sense.

"How'd you know? Dude." Suguru mutters, scratching the back of his neck in a sheepish manner before backtracking to the kitchen with his hands placed on your shoulders as you walk in front of him.

"Let's just order takeout or something." You suggest once you've made it back, hopping on the stool and leaning forward against the countertop. Suguru settles beside you, one of his arms is around your shoulders now, his other hand blindly fishing for his phone inside the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Chinese!” Satoru throws in his suggestion once he enters the kitchen, heading straight towards the fridge to grab himself another sweet treat— it’s his sixth one today. You wonder how he maintains his pearly white teeth. As far as you know he has never experienced a toothache in his entire life.

“Want some this time, pretty? Sugu?” Satoru offers, looking over his shoulder to see you and his best friend with a bright smile. The thing about Satoru, no matter how insufferable he and his sweet addiction can get, he’s always thoughtful in his own way. He likes to share things that he has, whether it’s as insignificant as a pen to his favorite mochi from an expensive brand. You figured it’s innate to him with how he was brought up with a silver spoon in his mouth— not having to think about the consequence of spending or losing material things since he can always get a replacement, and better. In a way, Suguru took part in humbling the Gojo heir but it’s really just Satoru through and through: annoying with no financial sense, but sweet nonetheless.

“Nooo, we had Chinese food the other day! And another no, thank you.” You huff, eyes scanning the food delivery app displayed in Suguru’s phone.

“I want something greasy.” The latter mutters, clicking on an infamous fast food logo, ignoring his best friend’s quips about his unhealthy obsession with oily chickens, undercooked potatoes and bland-tasting burgers. It sounds rich coming from him, considering he’s the one gobbling up an entire box of macarons from a shop with a foreign name.

“You three are so fucking noisy.” Leave it to Sukuna to make such bold entrances with his deep voice and colorful vocabulary.

“Lovely of you to join us. Tell these two to order Chinese food right now!” Satoru sounds so overjoyed, thinking he found himself a comrade in Sukuna but the latter only scrunches his face in irritation.

“Don’t tell me what to do, punk. I’ll beat you up.”

“Okay. Let’s just have pasta instead.” You decide to step in, knowing that Sukuna’s provocation will lead to an endless bickering with Satoru refusing to back down and Suguru being dragged into their childish argument. It’s an almost everyday thing and at first, you found it amusing but now you’re just tired of it.

Sukuna looks and acts like a brute most of the time. He speaks with this certain edge in his tone and it doesn’t help that he lacks the ability to filter his words. You were most intimidated by him before you got to know him better, what with all his tattoos and deep voice (though you’re not denying that it suits his bad boy charisma). You didn’t expect him either to look after you when you got sick on your fourth week living with them, of all people. He was like a mother hen yapping his head off about how you need to go easy on yourself, to get as much sleep as you need while feeding you— he’s a real big softie behind his sharp tongue and I-don’t-give-a-fuck-about-you persona.

“Kento! You just got home?” Suguru’s question makes you look towards the blond male’s direction just outside of the kitchen’s entryway. This makes the two idiots stop bickering as well, choosing to focus on Kento instead.

“Yeah. I was at Yu’s house the whole day.” Kento answers simply before frowning at the sight of you guys crowding the kitchen. “Don’t tell me you can’t decide what to have for dinner again.” He added, now making his way towards you with a roll of his eyes, carrying bags of what seems to be…food? Oh, thank the heavens!

“Is that Chinese?” Satoru ignores the previous question, opting to take some of the bags from the younger male and place it on the counter in front of you and Suguru.

“It’s not. Mrs. Haibara made them.” Kento sighs, placing the rest of the bags beside the others.

“So, Japanese?” You supply, digging through one of the bags to see for yourself.

“Why does it matter? It’s food.” Sukuna rolls his eyes before yelling at Choso to come join you in the kitchen so all of you can eat together.

“I didn’t even say you could have them.” The blond says out of indignation though he doesn’t do anything to stop Satoru from stabbing one slice of the chicken katsu from the container with a chopstick which makes Suguru slap his hand and scold him.

“Thank you, Ken. Come sit with me, let’s eat.” You pat the other stool beside you, promptly kicking Sukuna’s ass (literally) away when he attempts to occupy it.

“Wench.” The tattooed man mumbles, rubbing his behind as he settles beside Satoru across the three of you. You don’t say anything back, deciding to assist Kento with his own food out of courtesy and gratitude for his timely intervention. It wasn't worth it to stir up another childish bickering over food, and you'd rather keep the peace.

“I already ate but thanks, sweetheart.” Kento murmurs next to you, watching as you fret over him with a fond smile. The thing about Kento is that despite being a man of few words, he’s loud in other aspects that shows how much he cares. Like the way he always remembers his “annoying” housemates and brings back food because he knows that none of you, except Choso and Suguru, are responsible enough to make healthy food on your own. He may not say it outrightly but he gets quite worried about all of you all the time, and as much as he hates to admit it, he’s taken the responsibility of parenting grown adults even if it takes a toll on him sometimes. He doesn’t mind it as much now as he used to, knowing you’re there to watch out for him in return.

“You all deaf or somethin’? Someone’s been knocking at the door for a while now!” Choso complains as he passes by the kitchen, trudging towards the front door with a scowl as his stomach grumbles in hunger.

The door is opened to reveal your next door neighbor’s kid, Megumi, looking wary and a little upset that it was Choso who opened the door for him. “Is Miss Sunshine here?”

The older man’s brows furrowed in confusion, trying to decipher who “Miss Sunshine” is before the familiarity of the nickname hits him, making him squint his eyes down at the kid. “That’s not her name.”

“Dad calls her that.” Megumi simply responds, frowning back at Choso.

Before the latter could say anything else though, your voice rings through the house as you ask Choso who was at the door. Your figure comes into view soon after, wanting to see who's holding your housemate back from his much desired dinner.

“Miss Sunshine!” You hear the cheerful voice of Megumi which makes you run to the front door with an excited smile.

“Megs! What are you doing here? Everything okay? Where’s your dad?” You crouch down to meet the boy’s eyes, shooing Choso away who you hear grumble under his breath about "brats" and "stealing attention” as he walks away but you choose to ignore him. He's still probably salty about the incident that involves his precious little cousin, Yuuji, who only wanted to play with the other boy when he visited rather than pay attention to his ever-longing “Choso nii-san”.

“Dad said he has to go to work. Can I stay with you until he comes back?” The boy asks, hopeful and big, doe eyes staring at you almost pleadingly— not that he needs to anyway.

Megumi is a sweet boy, raised by his father right even though sometimes, Toji makes questionable decisions like leaving his son alone at night without as much as a heads up to another responsible adult to look after the boy— like you. Not that you’re saying Toji needs to tell you about his whereabouts or whatever, but you’ve been Megumi’s babysitter since you’ve befriended his father. Even though he seems pretty independent, you still can't help but worry about him. After all, he is still a young kid and could easily get into trouble by himself. It would worry you greatly if you were to find out that he was hurt or worse while his father is away.

“Of course, baby. Come on in. Did you have anything for dinner yet?” You usher the boy inside, leading him to the kitchen where the others are. They immediately stop talking once they spot Megumi with you, hiding behind your figure with an inconspicuous glare directed at all of them.

“MEGUMI!” Satoru is the first to break the silence by yelling the boy’s name in glee and jumping off his seat to welcome your little visitor. Said visitor hurries to shield himself more behind you, clutching at your shirt as if it would save him from the impending doom that is Satoru. Megumi, on multiple occasions, has shown his dislike for the older man.

“Don’t bombard spiky urchin over there.” Suguru mumbles uncaringly, more focused on the food he’s currently eating. The nickname he and the others have picked for Megumi makes you roll your eyes, and you don’t miss the slight whine from the little boy behind you. He loathes that nickname so much.

“Come eat with us, Megumi.” Kento waves for the latter to join him and the rest, getting off his chair to give it to the boy.

“I already did. Thanks though.” Megumi sends the blond man a tiny smile, seemingly the only person he’s okay being around with. Out of all the men within the vicinity, Kento seems to be the only one who acts completely normal with the boy, aside from Suguru who mostly doesn’t care but sometimes joins in on the teasing with Satoru. Sukuna, on the other hand, tries to terrorize the little man whenever he can but his lighthearted intimidation seems to never work because Megumi doesn’t really care enough to pay attention to him— or to any of your housemates aside from Kento occasionally.

“Where’s your father, boy?” Sukuna asks, briefly looking up from the rectangular plastic container full of sushi he's hogged from the rest.

“Work.” Megumi plainly responds, not even bothering to look at the older guy but you can clearly see the annoyance gleaming on the boy’s face.

Oh. This is going to be a long night.

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residenthughes · 2 months

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mad at me - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x afab reader

word count: 3.5k

tags/warnings: +18 nsfw, so minors dni, smut, unprotected p in v (don't be silly, wrap your willy!), creampie, praise, spitting & choking (nothing crazy, i promise!), use of pet names (my girl, sweetheart, baby, princess, sweetheart), slight degradation (if you squint?)

summary: jack's latest game has tensions running high and feelings left unresolved. lucky for him, you know just the solution.

notes: so...this is happening 😭 this is very much inspired by the devils latest game against the kings where jack got pretty heated 😵‍💫 who doesn't love a bit of angry! jack? 🫣 but yes, as i've mentioned before, i don't usually write smut, so this may not be the best so any tips or comments you guys have to share would be much appreciated! 💗this has been partially edited, so if you see any errors along the way, they'll be fixed soon! as always, thank you for reading and hope you enjoy! much love! <333

It takes a lot for Jack to get mad.

A sequence of events that all come to a boil, a mountain of incidents that snowball into an avalanche of his wrath. He’s so sweet, like sunny Sunday mornings that smell of fluffy pancakes and honey syrup - so, even now, so far into your relationship, you’re aware that moments like these occur. Of course, emotions wear thin like tired socks and you’re no stranger to your own and Jack’s that have seen all shades of the rainbow, but perhaps there’s something in the air, some electricity that changes the wiring of your brain because tonight is so different from the rest. Dissimilar from when you leave Jack be when his big emotions demand their place, unlike how you wrap each other in blankets of comfort when tensions have eased and everything is whole again. Because, again, this is not about you. It’s about Jack and how, as the universe has written it to be, gravity pulls straight towards him.

Things have been good - he’s come back from injury, back to his kingdom on the ice and the Devils have won back to back games - truly unheard of during their current season, beating their last opponent in regulation for the first time since 2009. It’s a big deal - the smile on Jack’s face says so, the satisfaction of his tone indicating so when he’s come back from his away games. So, you want this happiness to continue, because you love him and the happiness he illuminates but at the end of the day, his job is hockey. A coin toss of wins and losses that you’re trying to wrap your head around because you’re biassed and see all the commitment that him and his teammates put in everyday. As a result of this, Thursday happens; a dice roll of events that spiral into chaos.

You’re back home in Jersey, comfortably situated on the couch in the warmth of an ending winter that shows peaks of an upcoming spring. You’ve got popcorn in your lap because you’ve rediscovered how much you love the savoury snack, happily munching away as Jack’s game starts and the adrenaline kicks in. The first period is eventful with many saves that have you clawing at the couch, but then the second period starts and all hell breaks loose. Tensions run high and as level-headed as Jack is, he is not immune to agitation - subjected to a nasty hit into the boards, the opposing player purposely banging his elbow into Jack’s head. You’re about to start yelling at your TV screen like some drunken sailor because Jack’s been injured this season and doesn’t need more time away from what he loves, but Jack decides to get his lick back and you’re automatically silenced. Your jaw drags the length of the floor as you watch him crosscheck the hell out the guy, proceeding to rough the player up before referees interfere. Jack and the guy are arguing back and forth as they’re escorted into their teams’ penalty boxes and you’re just left bewildered, a mess of emotions with wide eyes as your stomach turns.

You watch astounded as Jack flushes in his temporary plastic home, eyes wide at he hurtles comments that leave the opposing player with a sour taste in his mouth. Jack’s shaking his head when he’s gotten what he needs off his chest, wiping away his sweat as his anger grinds to a simmer. Your eyes are glued to the TV, perched on the edge of your seat as your heart beats hard in your bruising chest. The power play continues on but you’re lost in a trance, awaiting Jack’s emergence from the penalty box that can’t come soon enough. Once he’s out, he’s sprinting for the puck and manages to get a breakaway that assures New Jersey a goal, but the loser in the penalty box with him is hot on his heels and Jack misses. He’s fuming once again, ranting to the referee that pays him no mind. Jack skates off, smashing his stick against the glass before he’s back on the bench and completely snaps it in half, a string of profanities leaving his lips.

You sit there in awe, your grinding teeth sinking into the flesh of your fingers as your brain becomes an all-consuming pile of filth. Your precious boy, who loves his three hour long naps and looks at you like you hang the stars in the sky, the hopeless romantic who pulls out all the stops for you simply because you deserve it and who holds you as if you’re fine china - he’s almost unrecognisable now, wearing his emotions like the number of his jersey as his expression pinches and his azure eyes narrow. A rush of emotions you both experience that make a home in the chaos of your minds that long leave the remnants of their havoc.

The clatter of Jack’s hockey bag echoes from the doorway, bringing you out of the syrupy daze you’ve been submerged in far too long. You leap off the couch as your body carries you towards the front door, electricity rippling down the ridges of your spine as your skin tingles with the unknown. You keep your emotions at bay for the time being, unsure of what state Jack may be in as you creep around the corner and catch an eyeful of his demeanour - blinding annoyance. An exasperated sigh pushes from his chest as he slips off his trusted beanie, the ruffle of his wet curls bouncing as his fingers card through his hair. You gulp.

“Ro?” you test the waters - short and sweet just to gauge his reaction, anticipation hanging in the air.

“Hey.” he bites, not bothering with looking your way as he shimmies his coat off with more force than necessary.

You gnaw at your bottom lip, feeling helpless. “I saw the game…”

“The one I almost got fucking injured in?” he chirps, looking at you now with a pointed stare that burns with all the fire in his heart. No longer azure, his eyes singe with an almost midnight hue. “What a shitshow.”

“That was a dangerous hit, that guy’s got whatever’s coming to him,” you’re quick to reply, taking small steps towards Jack who hangs up his coat. “But that doesn’t change the fact that people pay to watch you play.”

Jack stills in his movements, figure unmoving momentarily before his eyes throw you a lasting glance, the beginnings of a smirk working amongst his roseate features. “So, you heard?”

You blush under the heat of his undivided attention, gaze averted as you fumble with the hem of the hockey jersey on you. “Not necessarily.”

“Then what did you hear, baby?” he queries immediately, shifting so that his body now faces yours, an arm resting against the coat hanger as he sizes you up, unabashed and assertive.

Your stomach flips, the race of your heart undeniable. “You’ve got a mouth on you, so it’s easy to read lips.”

You’re chirping, working under his skin in a way that maintains some form of respect but has all the intentions of riling him up, which manifests into the beast you wish to see. A cocked eyebrow and a ticked jaw, flashes of disbelief flickering on his face. Once more, your emotions bear the weight of an anchor as excitement conjures up the swirl in your stomach, your masquerade crumbling at the seams as your nostrils flare, biting back a shit-eating grin.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he questions with a hint of humour, because he knows you like the back of his hand. You give him no response, preoccupied with suppressing the misplaced giggle that threatens to leave your lips. “I can’t believe this.”

The seams fully come undone, a snicker or two bypassing your lips as you retreat from the situation, ending up with your back against the door leading to the basement with Jack hot on your heels. Mirth bathes you in delight and you let it, a plethora of chuckles falling into your hand as you avert your gaze whilst Jack forgets any concept of personal space. Perhaps you’re deserving of whatever damnation comes your way, a punishment you’ve fully brought upon yourself, but when your senses fill with the waft of Jack’s earthy musk cologne and the remnants of his apple shampoo, accompanied by the warmth of his body that leans towards yours, you can’t bring yourself to feel a shred of regret.

His arm, enveloped by his raven black dress shirt, raises as he cages you in, vulnerable and at his mercy. “What else did I say, since you can read lips and all?”

This is a circus of words, meaning riddled in optical illusions that would have someone think none the wiser. Except this is yours and Jack’s circus, an act tailored for two that entertains your minds that run wild. A wildness you feed off as you meet him with the same decisiveness.

“This number,” you start, pointing towards the digits printed on your sleeve belonging to him. “86 is what people go to see - sorry, pay to see.”

You’re not really sorry, the smirk on your face says otherwise. “I think I said a lot more than that, sweetheart.”

“Besides all the huffing and puffing,” his tongue pokes at his cheek, a playful smirk betraying his flaring emotions. “You asked if he was there to play or to hurt people - fair point to make.”

“And all the others weren’t?” Jack’s moved closer, his thigh situating itself between the gap of your legs.

You bite your tongue at the friction. “You know the answer to that.”

“Maybe,” his caging arm leaves the door, the web of his hand sat against your chin as he holds your face, maintaining the same fiery gaze that unravels you altogether. “But, it’d be better coming from you.”

“Jack,” he’s flexed his thigh, your hand reaching for the button on his dress shirt as you wane in defeat. “Please.”

“I don’t follow.”

Your bawled fist meets his stacked chest. “Don’t play dumb.”

Jack chuckles, holding all power in the palm of his hand. “I’m just confused as to why my pants are wet.”

To prove his point, he draws his thigh away because he’s a selfish bastard and shows you the damp spot you’ve left after his thigh made its way between your legs. The shame that washes over you is unbearable.

Jack’s cold hands find themselves underneath the material of his jersey, one hand dancing along the outline of your underwear with a finger hanging over the top of the seam. “Oh, what to do with you.”

He’s such a tease, his ego large and in charge as you’ve long forgotten any sense of game at hand as your eyes pool with only an anguish he can extinguish. “Fuck me, please.”

“Why?” his tone light and airy, his finger hooked around the seam of your underwear as the material leaves your skin

You shiver at the breeze, eyes closed as your weak fist manages to grapple onto some material of his shirt. “Because, I need you and I think that goes both ways.”

The band of your underwear snaps against your stomach as Jack retrieves his hand, head cocked to the side as he considers the weight of your words with a locked jaw. Your teeth are sinking into the plumpness of your bottom lip, nothing but pleading in your eyes as you gaze up at him with all you can muster.

His hand lays against your cheek, thumb automatically caressing the skin - a touch that you not only lean into, but shiver towards. “Get upstairs.”

This is a fairly new playing field for you two - a game of cat and mouse that brings out an unfamiliar side to you, so foreign in nature that you second guess your desires and where your lust leads you. Jack doesn’t allow for any hesitation though, hand in hand with you as he comes into himself too. His thumb brushes against the corner of your lips that lift, a soft smile surfacing amongst his features before you’re headed upstairs in a flash, scurrying towards your bedroom with a trail of your clothes left in your wake.

Jack doesn’t take long to meet you upstairs, his pinstripe blazer removed as he unfastens his tie around his neck. He spares you a lingering glance as you lay sheepishly on the bed perched on your elbows, legs ajar as your folds glisten in the soft bedroom light. Jack quickly rids himself of his clothing, slipping his boxers off to reveal his hard on. A comfortable length with all the girth to fulfil you, tip flushed pink as it brims with precum. It takes everything in you not to sink to your knees and fill your mouth with his cock.

As he approaches the bed, he motions for you to turn around and you do so with no questions asked, back arched as you wait in anticipation as you feel the bed dip with his presence. Jack comes up behind you, body so incredibly close yet somehow so far away as his hands make contact with your burning skin, giving the flesh on your back a brief massage. A surprised hum vibrates in your chest as Jack drags a single finger along the dip of your spine, leaving goosebumps in his wake before he adjusts himself behind you, to which you push your ass back against his hard on.

“Stop teasing.” you sound more desperate than intended, cheek squished into your cool silk pillow.

“Can’t admire my girl before I fuck her?” The nonchalance of his tone draws a mewl out of you, your hips jutting as they search for any more contact. “Besides,”

Hands resting against the mould of your hips, one shifts as you feel his cold index finger draw in between your folds, fingertips swirling around your clit. You moan brokenly, body curling into itself. “You’re just here to take it, aren’t you, princess?”

You’re nodding before your brain can even compute his words, humming along to accentuate your point as his fingertips continue to swirl along the shape of your clit. It’s too much and not enough - a tug of war of sorts that makes your hips rock into Jack, an action that at one point, has his tip catching against your wet entrance. A hiss from behind you sounds as you grapple onto the pillow beside you.

Jack’s hand leaves you high and dry, but alias, his patiences dissipates into the night sky as he glides into you in one smooth motion, robbing you of your breath and sanity as your mouth gapes open and eyes roll. Sinking into the mattress, your spread legs accommodate for the snap of Jack’s hips as he starts to fuck you from behind, your back curving as you gladly take everything he’s offering. Face mangled into your hoard of pillows, your fingers cling to the duvet for some kind of security, at the mercy of Jack who pleases you in all the way he knows how.

“How hard do you want me to fuck you?” he asks, maybe genuinely because his strength seems somehow restricted, but you’re keening high in your throat at how filthy his words fall from his rosy lips so easily.

“Harder,” you plead, losing yourself in the pleasure as your one hand shuffles to rub against your neglected clit. “Harder, please.”

And, he obliges, bullying his cock into you as you gasp at the impact. A smack lands against your ass, the supple surface sizzling as your hips retract, Jack’s ironclad grip holding you from escaping any further as his fingers make indents into your skin like notches in a bedpost.

“Hang on,” his pace slows, breath laboured as you feel him pull out of you reluctantly. “Turn around. I need to see you.”

You squirm against the sheets, easily complying with Jack’s wishes that suit you, your body turning as your sweaty-layered back sticks to the duvet. In the dimmed light of your bedroom, you catch a glimpse of Jack, whose wet curls fall in all the right places and how every outline of his well-built body drives you wild. You catch the shallow rises of his chest and the flush against his cheeks and as he tucks stray strands of hairs behind his ears, his hands find purchase at your thighs and draw you closer. It’s when he looks into your eyes, shameless in the pleasure written all over his face as he pushes into you again that you think you could never get tired of this view.

Your walls mould to the shape of his cock, sucking him in entirely as you both moan at the feeling. To add fuel to the fire, Jack decides to unfold your legs and hoist them over his shoulders, the new angle burying him even deeper and bringing you closer to the edge. A huff of amusement sounds from Jack as he peers down at your parted lips, wasting no time in fucking you into the mattress as the bed creaks underneath the pressure. His earlier annoyance rears its head in his movements, unsettled irritation laced in the impact of his thrusts, your cunt leaking all around him as he pounds into you relentlessly. So close in proximity, Jack takes the opportunity to caress your cheek, a sweet gesture as your breath hitches, all before his hand slowly drifts down towards your neck. An affirmative nod from you is he needs to tighten his grip, your brewing orgasm intensifying tenfold as he maintains all the eye contact to make you shudder.

He’s balls deep in you, each hard thrust punctuated by the smack of the wooden headboard against the bedroom wall. You feel him all around you like some wicked embrace: in your stomach, your lungs and around your throat, the snug clasp his calloused hand holds against your pressure points lolling your mouth open, gasping at the sheer intensity stewing within you.

Jack takes the opportunity, wet curls stuck to his forehead, leaning closer as he spits directly into your mouth, as he does onto the ice throughout his games. Something twists violently in you, back arching off the bed as your lips fall close to moan from the deepest parts within you, the taste of Jack on your tongue.

“Taking me like such a good girl,” he praises, your reflection plentiful in his eyes. “If I’d known you liked this, would have done it a long time ago.”

Everything begins to blur at the edges like an old photograph, bliss engulfing you in its heavenly fire as your skin shimmers with sweat and your nails scrape at Jack’s shoulder - a futile attempt to regain control that had been long lost, your bodies movement forgotten as you squirm and shiver all over.

Oxygen courses back into your deprived lungs as Jack releases his grip, burning hand against your cheek as his thumb brushes your cheekbone, catching your fluttering eyelashes. “I got you, baby. Got you, princess.”

“Never been fucked,” a whimper escapes when Jack notches that spongy spot that buries your nails into his skin, “like this. Feels-fuck, good.”

He laughs lightly, pace stuttering yet hitting all the right places. “Love giving my pretty girl what she wants,”

You clench around him, embedding your nails into the flesh of his back as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, gaze scattered. “And my pretty girl wants to come, don’t you?”

He poses the rhetorical question with a mean pinch at your clit before pushing a heavy hand down on your lower stomach, the pressure accelerating you towards your fast-approaching orgasm. The sounds pour out of you like a waterfall, eyebrows furrowed as you plead with begging eyes. “Kiss me?”

“Whatever you want, baby.” he breathes, almost whiny as his hand circles around your nape, your figure floating as your lips collide in a messy embrace, rhythm unmatched as your yearning seeps through your teeth.

Jack captures all your moans in his mouth, the new angle of his thrusts adding to the sloppiness of your wet kiss. The smack of his stuttering hips knocks against your clit in a way that has you seeing beyond, swallowed whole by his galaxy of stars as he gives you one last jerky thrust, teeth nipping at your bottom lip to undo you. Frayed at the seams, you come undone, unravelling in a mess that perfectly matches Jack as he quickly comes after you, coating your walls as your cunt spasms all around him as he rides out his high.

Once Jack’s shallow thrusts grind to a halt, he slowly pulls out a heavy sigh, locking eyes with you as he runs a finger down your sensitive cunt just to get a shiver out of you. Your eyebrows knit, a flare of annoyance mixed in with fatigue written across your face that draws a humoured snicker from your boyfriend. He collapses down next to you, a kiss pressed against your cheek before you both aimlessly stare up at the ceiling.

Amusement tugs at the corners of your lips. “You should get angry more often.”

“I was just about to say the same thing.” agrees Jack, laughter making its home between you two as nothing but sweetness lingers in the air.

“Come on,” he urges, his hand nudging yours, body prying itself off your bed as he goes to stand. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

#jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes imagine #nhl smut #jack hughes #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #residenthughes

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desperatecheesecubes · 2 years

Text

It would be so funny if, instead of recording a heartfelt message, Jason just called Bruce a bitch one last time

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breadbrobin · 3 months

Note

Hi idk if you’re taking reqs but I’ve been reading your posts about Luke Castellan a lot and I think I’m getting obsessed- So could you make a fic/shot about a Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo reader where they’ve known each other since childhood and they’re kind of like frenemies (friends and/or enemies) and one day he ends up getting badly injured after a quest so she has to take care of him in the infirmary for a week, but ever since that happened he’s been trying to get injured just to go and see reader at the infirmary again?

Sorry if that wasn’t clear, and this is kinda inspired from another fic you made about Luke and daughter of Apollo:)

But if you ever make something like this I would really appreciate it if you tagged me!

two hearts

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: (as above)

warnings: canon typical mentions of violence, kissing, flirting, a couple of swear words, blood, idiots to lovers a lil bit too (can you tell it’s my favourite thing)

word count: 3.5k

(hiiii hello hi!! sorry this took me so long to get out, but here it is!! thank you so much for the request i had a lot of fun with this one (3.5k words of fun apparently). hope you enjoy it!)

———————————————

if someone had told you luke castellan was going to be gone on a quest when you arrived at camp for the summer, you wouldn’t have spent the whole drive to camp preparing to deal with his annoying ass.

you hiked up half-blood hill and over the boundary, noticing the distinct tension in the atmosphere. something was off.

when luke hadn’t come to see you as you dropped your bags off in the apollo cabin, or when you stopped into the infirmary, or even when you walked past the hermes cabin, you were clued in that something was up.

“where’s luke?” you asked chiron curiously.

“he is on a quest, child. sent by his father,” he smiled down at you warmly. “do not worry about him.”

“i’m not worried,” you bit your lip. “just curious. that’s all.”

and that was that.

it was weirdly boring being at camp without luke’s constant snarky comments. ever since you’d both gotten to camp when you were younger, he’d been a persistent thorn in your side. maybe it was because you both were new around the same time, or because you didn’t like it when he hovered around the infirmary, poking his quick fingers into buckets of bandages and medications. whatever it was, he seemed to enjoy irritating you. and you apparently enjoyed it more than you thought.

monotonous days: breakfast, archery, infirmary, training, activities, dinner, bed.

sleepless nights: nightmares of quests and dragons and a bright white scar.

you sighed one night, waking up from yet another dream of flashes and brief images. your siblings were sleeping around you, a couple of them snoring, and you sat up.

the air on the porch was cooler that night, especially for summer time. you wrapped your sweatshirt a little tighter around yourself and leaned on the porch railing, peering out into the darkness. you just needed a minute, really. you sat down on a chair and relaxed.

you woke up abruptly.

at first, you were confused as to why.

then you saw the figure on the hill.

it was a camper. the hint of orange in the full-moon light told you that much. they were stumbling down—no, they were rolling now.

you stood up and dashed back into your cabin, grabbing your to-go first aid kit. you then turned and ran towards the obviously injured figure. there were only three people it could be. and where were the other two?

you reached them quickly, dropping to your knees beside them and rolling them over.

luke.

it was luke.

the air rushed from your lungs. he was here. he was back. he was alive. you’d never felt such an overwhelming emotion before. it drew slight stinging tears to your eyes.

his eyes were barely open but he gripped your arm with a strength you didn’t think his weak body could still possess. “y/n?”

“just hold on, luke,” you whispered. there were injuries all over his body. you hardly knew where to start. “just hold on.”

“they’re gone,” he said absently.

you looked at him, but didn’t stop trying to help. “who’s gone?”

“everyone,” he stared up at the moon.

you bit your cheek and looked over your shoulder. one of your brothers had gone on that quest with him. “wake up!” you shouted. “someone come help!” you turned back to luke. “okay, luke. you’re gonna be okay.”

his cheeks were hollow. it was then that you noticed the way his eye was swollen closed and a dark red angry cut traced its way down the side of his face. you gasped and turned his head gently to see it better.

“not looking good, huh?” he murmured bitterly. “guess i won’t be getting any modelling contracts soon.”

“we’ll see about that,” you muttered. “stay awake, yeah?”

“you’re not the boss of me,” he grumbled, but kept his eyes open as help finally arrived to get him to the infirmary.

he’d had more injuries than you’d originally thought. it was like he’d been attacked by half of the monsters in greek mythology, honestly, based on the peppered burn holes in his shirt, the cuts and scrapes on his arms and knees and the gashes littering his abdomen. oh, and not to mention the gaping spear wound in his right shoulder.

after working all night with some of your siblings and chiron in the infirmary, he was finally stable. finally, he’d be okay.

you volunteered to stay with him to keep an eye on him for the first few hours, though your eyelids were drooping with sleep.

you held his hand. it felt like the right thing to do.

he didn’t stir.

it was strange, being around him without him talking. since you were fourteen, he’d rarely managed to shut up around you. incessant talking and waving his hands around, explaining some new thing he learned in sword fighting or some joke one of his brothers made. it was both infuriating and entertaining. you loved and hated it, just like you loved and hated him.

sitting in silence with luke castellan felt like the world was turning on its head.

a couple of hours passed. you didn’t let go of his hand. not even as you slipped into a dream—a memory, really.

you were fifteen, and it was raining. it had only been a few months since you got to camp. things were still fresh and somewhat unknown. what you did know, though, was you could never get a moments peace anymore.

“y/n?”

you rolled your eyes. of course it was luke. “what?”

“where are you?”

you supposed you were hidden pretty well. sitting among the reeds at the bottom of the lake was one of your favourite places to be. it was cooler there, but even in winter it wasn’t cold. your feet could sit in the water if you wanted them to and the reeds blocked you from the wind and outside attention.

when you didn’t respond, you could hear him coming closer anyway.

“that’s fine, don’t tell me. i’ll find you anyway.”

and he did. he always did.

there was some theory about that, you realised as he sat beside you, the tiny space between the reeds barely big enough to hold both of you. some theory about a string of fate tying people together. some greek myth about people originally having four arms, four legs and two hearts, and when zeus split them down the middle, those people spent the rest of their lives searching for their other halves. drawn together by fate and reconnected always. you arm was pressed against his arm and your leg against his leg, and maybe it felt so right because you were cold and he was warm. not because of some silly soulmate theory that didn’t even make sense. because there was also the idea that maybe he’d put a tracker on you, but you had no idea where he would have gotten that. or maybe you were just bad at hiding.

“i’ve been looking for you,” he said.

you tilted your head in confusion. “what? why?”

“well,” were you mistaken, or were his cheeks kind of red? “i kinda hurt myself at training today. and the people in the infirmary told me to grow up and get over it. but honestly, it really hurts and i just wanted to know if you could heal it.”

you rolled your eyes. “always needing something, huh, castellan? is it so much to ask for you to just want to see me?” you hold your hand out and he extends his sword arm, revealing the cross-muscle cut on his forearm.

“i do want to see you,” he protested. “honestly. it’s not my fault that i’m also coincidentally injured whenever i want to see you.”

you couldn’t stay mad at that smile. “coincidentally, huh?” you handed him a small section of ambrosia from your pocket as your fingers ran over the cut, whispering a prayer to your father. you watched as the skin knit itself closed again, leaving not even a scar on his arm. you pulled back with a smile. “there. done. good as new.”

“thanks, doctor. don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“die a horrible death and be left permanently disfigured? to the point where we’d do a closed casket funeral just so we don’t have to look at your ugly face?” you tilted your head with a teasing smile.

he elbowed you. “shut up, loser. you know you love my face.”

and as you woke up, feeling his hand tighten around yours, you realised you kind of did. there was gauze over the cut on his eye and cheek, covering half of his face. and yet, he was still annoyingly beautiful.

“something on my face?” he mumbled as he saw looking, finally awake. “except for this thing, of course.” he gestured to the gauze.

you smiled wanly. “i’m glad you’re awake.”

“missed me?” he half-grinned.

you snort and drop his hand, patting the back of it and standing up to check his bandages. “you wish.”

he was silent as you checked his bandages and reapplied the few that were loosening. then, as you left to go and get the next person to keep an eye on him, he spoke up. “i missed you.”

you paused in the doorway, a small smile growing on your face. you looked back at him. his eyes were earnest and soft. he looked younger like this. “i’ll be back a few hours. we’ll have dinner together.”

you did have dinner together. in fact, you had almost every meal together for the first few days.

it was quiet, mostly. you didn’t ask him what happened and he didn’t tell you. you knew he’d already been interrogated by everyone else. he didn’t need that from you.

annabeth came and joined you a couple of times, chatting about some new architectural design she’d learned about or a new move she’d learned in training.

you realised how alike they were. family in every way that mattered, regardless of blood.

it didn’t take long for luke to start getting annoying again though.

once he’d been in the infirmary for four days, he regained most of his usual personality. and that meant bad jokes, incessant talking and poorly-timed, half-hearted flirting.

“the sun makes your eyes glow,” he said one day. he’d never had much of a filter, so it wasn’t too out of the blue, but it still caught you a little of guard.

you fumbled the supplies in your hand. “sorry, what?”

he was sitting up on his bed now. his wounds were almost healed. two more days and he’d be out of the infirmary. you didn’t know if you were one hundred per cent happy about that.

“your eyes. they glow in the sun.” he repeated.

you paused, glancing over at him. “thank you…?”

he nodded and leaned back, his eyes staying on you.

that was only the beginning.

within five hours he’d complimented your eyes, your skills, your smile and your kindness. multiple times. it got the point where the other two patients in the infirmary had stopped taking you seriously, just complimenting you instead. that’s where you drew the line.

“okay, luke, you need to stop. this is too much,” you said. you were checking his remaining wounds and nodding happily at them.

“what, am i flustering you? are you blushing?” he teased.

you were not blushing at all, you decided. whether it was strictly true or not was between your brain and your cheeks, not your honesty. “you’re annoying me,” you grumbled. “like, a lot.”

“you know you’ll miss me when i go back to my cabin,” he leaned back on his pillows, a smirk on his lips. it warped the scar on his cheek more than you expected, and it made your heart clench every time.

“if i miss you, you have permission to annoy me for the rest of my life,” you grumbled. you definitely wouldn’t miss this.

finally, he was out of the infirmary.

finally, you could work in peace.

finally, you could— oh, what the hell?

“good morning!” luke said as he waltzed into the infirmary. “i’ve injured myself.”

you looked him up and down as you walked closer. “you look fine to me. what did you do?”

“i fell of the rock climbing wall and hit my head.” he turned his head to show you the small trickle of blood above his ear.

you sighed and led him to a bed. you handed him ambrosia as you used a wet cloth to clean his head. “you were meant to take things easy for the first few days.”

“i did!” he protested. “i was only like, twelve feet up!”

you pursed your lips and shook your head. your hand was under his chin now, stopping him from turning his head to look at you. “taking it easy means no rock climbing at all, dumbass. you’ve been out of here for half a day and you’re already back!”

“maybe i like it in here.” he shrugged, pouting slightly, looking up at you.

“maybe i find you really annoying and ban you from coming in here,” you countered.

“you can’t do that,” he gasped.

“watch me, castellan.” you prodded his cheek mockingly. “don’t mess with me.”

his smile wasn’t exactly the response you were looking for, but you found that you didn’t mind it all too much.

luke came into the infirmary almost every two days for the next two weeks.

there was always some new injury that he couldn’t ignore, that he needed to have you heal. he only came in when you were there though, like he knew your schedule off by heart.

he probably did.

his sheepish smile was becoming a fixture of your days and you couldn’t help but smile a little brighter when you saw it. you couldn’t stop your heart from beating a little faster either, and it was annoying.

in the years that you’d been at camp, luke castellan had driven you up the wall. did you hate him? did you love him? how did you love him? how a friend loves a friend? how a doctor loves a patient? how a lover loves a lover? how did you hate him? why? why anything? why nothing? the questions only got worse.

“another minor injury?” you sighed, hearing his footsteps entering the infirmary. you didn’t know when you memorised the sound of his footsteps, or the rise and fall of his breathing while he slept, but you did.

“uh, not exactly…” the weakness in his voice made your stomach drop.

you turned around to see him clutching a bright red wound on his inner arm. he looked pale. that wasn’t a good sign. the blood was still seeping past his fingers. also not a good sign.

you gasped and pulled him to a bed immediately, pushing him to lie down and placing hard pressure on the wound. you could feel him reaching into your pocket and fishing around for ambrosia. once he found some, he ate it quickly and sighed in relief.

“what the hell happened?” you exclaimed.

he shrugged with one shoulder. “sword training.”

“were you training against the fucking terminator?” you took in the other minor cuts and bruises. your voice was unfairly shaky. you didn’t want to get close to losing him again. even just the thought made you feel sick.

his eyes were soft when they looked up at you. you almost dropped all of your anger right there. “i got sloppy,” he said nonchalantly. “i’ll be fine once i get back to normal.”

“this is an artery,” you said. “you could die.”

he didn’t look all that upset or shocked. “i won’t die, baby. i won’t.”

your stomach gave a pitiful lurch at the nickname. “save your energy.”

“is that your doctorly way of telling me to shut up?” he teased.

“yes, it is,” you nodded. “now, shut up while i help you.”

he looked at you like you were hanging the stars in the sky, not tending to him with hands red from his blood.

no one had stopped talking about luke since he got back. the first failed quest in years, with two of the three members dying and the third one permanently scarred by a dragon. not a good ratio.

you often saw luke sitting alone now, and when he was nowhere to be found, you knew where he was.

maybe there was something to the strings of fate theory, you thought as you found him and sat down beside him among the reeds. they were taller now and more dense, but the two of you had carved out a little spot for yourselves over time. your limbs were still pressed against each other though. that was one thing that would never change.

he was turning something over in his hands. a repetitive motion.

you tried to make sense of what it was, but couldn’t.

“it’s a dragon claw,” he spoke up. “the one that did this.” he pointed at the still-red scar on his face. that was why you couldn’t get rid of that one. magic scars never really went away.

you stayed quiet.

“peter distracted the dragon just in time for me to get my sword back. i got the cut, but when i turned back he was getting thrown against the mountainside.” he shook his head bitterly. “he didn’t stand a chance.”

you stared at a dragonfly on a reed in front of you. “knowing my brother, he just would have been happy to be there. and happy that you’re alive.”

he smiled, but it looked forced and bitter. “yeah. he spent the whole time talking about how lucky we were for this opportunity, and how he was so excited to explore beyond camp… and gianna was the same. they were just…” he was fiddling with his camp beads now.

you watched his movements slowly. it was like he’d never been gone, but also like everything had changed. there was a new tension in the air around him. you weren’t sure if it was you or him.

“don’t be resentful,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

“what?” his eyes turned to you. “what do you mean?”

“don’t resent yourself and the gods for this,” you said, leaning a little closer to him and looking away. the dragonfly hadn’t moved—like it was listening. watching. “peter and gianna made their choices. they’re in elysium now. that’s about as good as it gets.”

he pressed his lips together and nodded. “i know.”

maybe there was something to the two hearts theory too, because you could tell he didn’t. he didn’t agree. he didn’t want to. you slipped your hand into his. “you know i’m always here for you, right, luke? i mean, you annoy me—a lot—but you’re still, well, you. and you’re important to me. i’ll always be there for you. if you want to hold hate in your heart, then be my guest. i’ll just have to hold more love in mine to balance you out.”

he was watching your connected fingers as you spoke. his hands were calloused and hard, but yours were softer. less time spent training and more time spent healing. “love for who?”

you, you thought. you didn’t speak.

he turned to look at you. you were already looking at him. “love for me?”

you swallowed tightly. “luke…”

he leaned in closer, until his lips were moments away from touching yours. one wrong move and you’d touch. or was that the right move? was the wrong move pulling away? leaving him alone—again? that didn’t feel fair. but nor did your pounding heart and your flushing cheeks, and maybe you were blushing now, but that didn’t mean you had to like it.

then you gave in. that string that connected your souls was pulling you too tight. your lips brushed against his softly at first, and before you could think to move any further, his hand was gripping the back of your neck and pulling you closer, and his lips were pressing against yours with the passion of years of built up tension. you’d never hated him at all, you realised. you loved him the whole time. sure, he was irritating. he was chatty. he was pushy and annoying and never stopped bothering you. but you’d missed his bothering, and you’d missed his smile, and when he pulled away to take a breath, you missed his lips with a fiery need that bubbled up from deep down inside you.

“guess i’ll be annoying you for the rest of our lives then, huh?” he said softly, chest rising and falling against yours.

your eyes were still closed, reeling from the kiss. “wasn’t that a given anyway? i wouldn’t want it any other way, personally.”

when he kissed you again, you decided that the theory about two hearts was, in fact, correct. you met as two, seperate halves in a fucked up world that had you grow up far too fast. you grew as two, finding your places at camp, finding your people, but always finding each other first. you met now as one. four arms, four legs, two hearts, meeting in a tumultuous display of love and desire. and that’s how you wanted to stay. your limbs locked with his, your hearts pounding in sync, your every feeling, every emotion, every sensation making your very soul hum with joy. you’d found him, finally, after years of your hearts waiting for this moment. finally, your two hearts were one again.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #luke castellan x you #charlie bushnell

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ecoamerica · 22 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

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mcu-coworkers · 10 months

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Posessive?

Summary: Miguel will stop at nothing to have you at his side. And you know that but who says you can't make him struggle just a little.

word count:3.5k+

A/n: Thank you guys for loving Pt.1 to this story so much I hope this second part meets your expectations! Im thinking of making a pt.3 where the spider society meets the reader let me know what you guys think!xx

Parts: I II^ III

(Gif credits to the creator ofc!^)

Walking into your lawyers office made Miguel's blood boil.

He had already ripped up the divorce papers but he wanted to send a message before he returned them to their sender considering you ignored his thousands of calls.

“Mr.O’hara it's nice to finally meet you although clients usually communicate lawyer to law-” he was quickly cut off by the loud sound of the shredded paper being tossed onto his desk.

“ I thought this would be quicker for the both of us, Tell your client that her HUSBAND said no. And that I‘ll be seeing her very soon. Thanks.” Miguel said, having that last bit dripping with sarcasm.

“Should I be concerned for my clients' well-being Mr.O’hara?” your lawyer said standing up.

Turning to face him once more Miguel snickered, “On the contrary Mr.?” he said looking for a name tag.

“Murdock. It's on the building Nelson and Murdock.” he said, smiling back at him.

“Big man, Congratulations. My wife is safe with me, just let her know I'll be seeing her soon, have a nice day Murdock.” With a nod from your lawyer he took it as his time to leave but not without whispering some insults in spanish under his breath.

Who did he think he was questioning your safety around Miguel? You were the safest at his side and his side only.

And no one was taking that from him, not even you.

Quickly after he left your Lawyer wasted no time in contacting you.

Two rings passed before you picked up.

To tell the truth your heart was pounding. It felt so soon for him to have already turned in the papers.

“Hello?” you didn't mean to sound as quiet and defeated as you did but who were you trying to fool this had been and was going to be a very tough moment in your life.

“Mrs.O’Hara how are you?” he answered calmly.

Confused by the surname you stopped walking in the middle of the busy airport.

“I'm fine, did you receive the papers?” you asked eager to find out exactly what happened.

“Yes, I did but they're not signed or intact for that matter. It seems like he gave them to a cat to have as a toy."He said holding up the paper realizing what he thought were rips were actually done by claws, strange.

“Ay Miguel.” You said, you knew he never took any news well but you never thought he’d pull something like this.

“He also left a message for you.” he said, setting the paper aside.

“And that was?” you said curious as to what he could possibly have to say.

“Tell your client that her husband said no, and that he will be seeing you very soon, he put a big emphasis on the word husband.” he said pausing.

Waiting for a response from you he added on, “Ms. O’Hara if i'm being honest here this doesn't sound like a man who wanted a divorce.” he said reconsidering the course of the situation.

“At this point I'm not really sure what he wants anymore, I don't think I ever actually knew to begin with.” you said, beginning to question your judgment.

“Well if you’d like to continue with the one sided divorce process we can do that otherwise I think you should speak to Mr.O’Hara and sort things out.” He said.

Now you had a lot to think about, A shiver went up your spine as you realized exactly what was happening.

“Y/n? Is everything okay? Do you need help?” Your lawyer asked on the other side. He always knew a little more than he was led to believe which meant he had to be cautious with how much he involved himself.

“Oh yeah, yes I am fine just considering my options, can I get back to you on that?” You asked quickly beginning to exit the airport.

“Yes, of course whatever you need, give me a call.” he said, he could hear your breath picking up and your heart beat gaining speed.

“Thank you, Mr. Murdock.” and with that you hung up the phone and found your driver.

If there was one thing Miguel didn't like it was not having you by his side and to make matters worse not knowing where you were.

You didn't doubt for a second Miguel had already found you; it was just a matter of time before he got to you.

Angry would be the understatement of the year.

Taking a deep breath you tried to relax remembering why you were in this situation in the first place.

It was his fault you left, and if he wanted to bring you back then he’d have to travel across the world and do it face to face.

After all, you did book a flight to Barcelona thinking it would be far enough to not ever be able to go back to him no matter how strong the urge.

Your phone rang again, thinking it was your lawyer, you answered.

“Was there something you forgot to mention earlier?” you asked, trying to sound as calm as possible.

“Hiring a man as your lawyer, you always know where to hit me so it hurts mi amor.” chills ran down your spine at the sound of that raspy voice.

“Miguel, what do you want?” you said trying to put up a front.

“You. Back in our house, at my side.” he said with a demanding tone.

The audacity of this man, you'd been distraught and in tears practically the entire journey here but now? All you felt was anger.

“No.” was all you said, the front was gone, these were your genuine emotions now.

“No? Como que no? You're mine, don't you forget that.” he said, beginning to raise his voice.

“ I didn't forget that, you did Miguel so it's either you start remembering or I start forgetting too. Ya no voy a estar de gata a tus pies. I'm worth more than that.” you said trying to hold back the shakiness in your voice.

It was helpless because he already heard it.

“Mi amor, I never thought that of you please, come home and let's talk. I'm begging you don't do this to us. I need you.” He said hoping he could sway you in his direction.

“This is the longest you've spoken to me in over a month Miguel, you realize that right? And all for what, because I disobeyed you?” you asked, hoping he'd deny it but all you got was silence.

Chuckling you smiled, at least that part of him never changed.

“Baby, plea-” he tried.

“No, Sign the papers or I'm moving in a different direction Miguel. I let my love for you stand in the way for too long and you don't even have the decency to tell me you don't love me anymore. I'm done.” you said as he began to speak over you trying to stop you.

No one had ever tested Miguel's patience this much.

You not letting him get a sentence out was only bringing him closer to the edge.

“Y/n I swear if you make me-” dead tone. You hung up.

“HIJO DE PUTA!” he said as he punched the back of the passenger seat in front of him.

“Everything alright sir?” his driver asked mostly only concerned for his own safety.

No one liked seeing Miguel upset ten times out of nine everyone else ended up in whatever mood he was in.

“Yes, Just get me to the jet please.” he said, rubbing his temples gently.

Miguel fell in love with your sense of leadership when he had first met you, god was he paying for it now.

He tried to calm himself before boarding the plane. He needed to think of what he could say to get you back at his side.

He knew he needed to change, it's his best bet at making you remember just how much he loves you.

Just as the plane was taking off his gizmo showed a hologram of Jess.

“So, did you get your girl back?” She asked with a slight smirk on her face.

Miguel froze, he kept his business out of the spider society just in case anyone ever turned on them.

Keeping you safe was his number one priority.

“Lyla spilled Miguel, she's worried about you and says she's never seen you this bad before.” she said with a slight tone of concern. She knew better than to show Miguel she was worried, he would just push her away and tell her he was fine.

“Everything will be fine, I'll be gone two days tops think you can handle that?” he asked with a small smile on his face.

He knew Jess could do more than handle it; he just needed a distraction from the chaos he’d brought to his marriage.

“Yeah well when you bring her back, and you will, I ‘d like to meet the person who tolerates your broodiness, hell i ‘ll probably ask for some tips while i'm at it.” she said, making him chuckle.

No one could do what you did for him.

“Keep me updated on the canon events and keep Hobie out of my office.” he said remembering the last time he snuck in.

“You got it boss, don't forget we're all rooting for you.” she said before hanging up.

We? Who's we? He was gonna have a long talk with Lyla about confidentiality when he got back.

------

It has now been just about two days since you last spoke to Miguel and since then you’ve received one flower arrangement every hour with a message from Miguel and your bill at every place you visited covered by, you guessed it, Miguel.

And still you had to be graced by the presence of the man himself.

Barcelona was your chance to really find out if the grass was greener on the other side and that meant no giving in to Miguel's romantic gestures.

It was hard when every single flower warmed your heart just a little more every time.

It reminded you of when he’d cut flowers from random gardens on his way to your house.

They were never this fancy or even wrapped in paper for that matter, but you loved them more than anything else because he gave them to you out of love.

He gave these to you seeking forgiveness, something he wouldn't be doing if you hadn't been pushed over the edge.

Sighing, you set them aside with the rest of the arrangements and decided to go for a coffee.

Finding a little shop you sat on the patio after ordering your Latte with a croissant to accompany it.

Basking in the sun your mind couldn't help but wonder where he was, if he was already watching you from a distance waiting to catch you off guard.

You weren't too far off.

He was watching you, from a safe distance just to make sure you were safe, and that no other man was coming near you but mostly to make sure you were safe.

He thought that if he gave you space it’d make you miss him.

The flowers and paying for you were just in case you did miss him. Or at least that's what he made them out to be.

Miguel was trying his best to not let his possessive ways take over him and just carry you on the plane and take you home but he oh so wanted this to be over already.

But he too decided to turn a new leaf in Barcelona, one that would promise to never let you forget just how much he loved you, no matter how shitty of a day he had at work.

Miguel was brought out of his thoughts when he saw you leaving the cafe not because you were leaving but because some man was following you.

His body tensed as the man tapped on your shoulder and handed you something.

Before he knew it he was walking towards you and pulling you into him by the waist.

“¿Ya terminaste amor?( you finished here love?)” he said, smiling down at you before turning to look at the idiot who touched you.

Who did he think he was touching you when you belonged to Miguel?

Smiling a thank you to the stranger you met mere minutes ago you begin walking without answering Miguel's question.

“Who the hell was that guy?” he said following you down the street.

“ I have no idea Miguel, what I do know is that you've been watching me for the past two days.” you said trying to hide your smirk.

Miguel stopped, you had outsmarted him.

“Only because you won't speak to me.” he said trying to hide the smile on his face.

He was a proud husband but now was not the time.

“Sucks doesn't it? Being ignored by your spouse when you just wanted to give them all your love.” you said opening the door to your new home.

“Y/n mi amor I get it, I'm an asshole and I deserve whatever it is you throw my way but please come home and you can throw it at me there.” he said trying to get close to you but all it did was make you take a step back.

“Baby please, just come here.” he said as he took another step towards you.

He was quick but you were quicker getting out of the way.

“No Miguel, you treated me like some toy that you used when you were bored. And when you got tired of me you tossed me to the side and pretended that I wasn't there. Do you know how it feels to be treated like an item? A disposable item?” you asked your voice barely above a whisper but that didn't stop you.

“For the last ten years of our relationship there wasn't one day that you didn't tell me you loved me. Even when we were fighting. Tell me Miguel, when was the last time you told me you loved me? As a matter of fact, When was the last time we even slept in the same bed? You can't tell me can you?” you asked, waiting for a response from him but all you got was silence.

Your words finally began to actually sink in to Miguel and for once he didn't know what to do.

Balancing the literal multiverse on his shoulders distracted him so much he hadn't realized the damage he was doing to your marriage.

But you’d had more than enough time to realize what it did to you.

Shaking your head you looked away as tears brimmed your eyes.

You wanted so badly to be strong for yourself but seeing the end to what you thought was your forever was making it really difficult.

“Fuck.” was all Miguel could muster up at the moment, he needed to find a way to fix this.

Letting out a shaky breath, “Y/n, I know that I ‘ve changed but there's just been so much pressure on me to fix things and they really need me right now, this is the only way I can keep everyone safe, keep you safe.” he said hoping you’d understand.

Nodding you looked out the window and admired the view.

“ I understand, the multiverse is important to you. But I can't sit around waiting for the day you decide to consider me too. And I know that sounds selfish but I can't help it. I'm jealous of Miguel. Jealous of the people who see you more than I do. Jealous of the office you spend time in. Jealous of the Lyla.” you actually had to laugh after that.

“ I sound crazy, Jealous of a damn AI all because it gets your attention more than me.” you said tears finally falling.

“Well guess what Miguel, I won't do it anymore, I hate this feeling. I understand protecting the multiverse is important so go, go be a hero it's who you are and it's amazing. I could never stand in the way of that no matter how much it’d hurt me.” you said leaning back on the kitchen counter.

You’d hoped that’d be enough to get him to go.

In a second Miguel had his arms around you and his head buried in your shoulder.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you realized he was crying.

“Miguel?” you asked gently, slightly confused by the reaction.

“I'm so sorry baby please, I need you. Without you I'm just the shell of the man I should be. I can't live a life without you, it's pointless. Just please come home and we can fix this together. I ‘ll do whatever you want. I ‘ll get on my knees and beg if that's what it takes.” he said as he began to get down on his knees.

“Miguel no-” you whispered as you tried pulling him back up.

“Then what baby you tell me and I ‘ll do it please tell me how to fix this. ¡Estoy loco por ti y lo sabes!( I'm crazy for you and you know it!)” he yelled, he was mere seconds away from a panic attack his breathes were shortening quickly and you noticed it.

“Miguel? Baby slow down, you need to breathe.” you said lowering yourself to meet his face.

“ I can’t- I can-” he said as he tried regaining his breath.

He hadn't had one of these since he became spiderman so an inhaler was not an option. So you did the next best thing, you kissed him.

Deeply, passionate to make sure he slowed down his breathing completely.

Slowly it began to work so you pulled away to allow him to catch his breath.

Analyzing his face you’d only hoped it worked, “Better?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not yet.” he said as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you back in for another kiss this time much deeper.

Miguel began kissing you like a man who’d been starved as he pulled you closer wrapping your legs around his waist in the process.

And just like that you were lost in him all over again.

Whatever speech you gave yourself about the grass being greener was gone in the wind.

Quickly Miguel began undressing you while you pulled his clothes off in return.

“No sabes cuanto te e necesitado mi amor. (you don't know how much i've needed you my love.)” he said as left a trail of kisses down your neck.

“Callate y hazme el amor Miguel.(shut up and make love to me.”you said breathlessly as he flipped you over on the kitchen floor placing his tip at your entrance.

Slipping into you slowly he clenched his jaw at the feeling of your tightness around him. Oh how he missed this feeling.

Gasping you tried to adjust to his size again , no matter how many times you’d had sex in the past it's like this man got bigger and bigger every time.

Hearing your soft moans encouraged Miguel to keep going until he was fully buried in you, “dios mio.” was all he could manage to say as he rested his head in the crook of your neck.

“Miguel-” you moaned, signaling him to move.

“ I know baby I know.” he said as he pulled himself out completely before thrusting back in and finding his pace making you arch your back in the process.

Slowly he began building up his speed until all he could hear was the beautiful sound of your voice moaning his name endlessly.

This was his heaven.

Watching you as your face contorted in full euphoria at the pleasure he was giving you.

Taking your hand in his he gave it a squeeze that you returned as you used your other hand to pull him in for a breathless kiss.

“Miguel ya” you said, getting closer to your climax.

“Wait for me mami i'm almost there.” he said as he sped up making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

This man would be the end of you.

By this point you were a moaning mess holding on to the last strands of sanity you had left waiting for Miguel.

Once you felt Miguel twitch inside of you it was clear he was close, you pulled him close and began kissing your way up to his ear.

“Miguel baby, I need you hazme tuya mi amor.” you moaned, and with that you felt his fangs dig into your shoulder as he filled you with his seed allowing you to cum with him.

You could've passed out from the immense amount of pleasure you were feeling, or the reaction to his spider venom, but missing a moment of this was not an option.

After Miguel recovered he realized what he’d done, “Shit, I'm sorry I didn’t think-” he said, beginning to slightly panic.

He’d always been able to control himself in bed.

Smiling, you pulled him in for another kiss, “It’s okay, I liked it.” you said earning yourself a look of surprise from him.

Laying his head back down on your chest you sighed in content.

“Eres la luz de mi vida, el sol para mi luna. (you are the light of my life, the sun to my moon.)” he said smiling.

Laughing you massaged the back of his neck as you ran your hands through his hair.

“ The light of your life would like to get off this hard floor.” you said as you wiggled to ease the soreness of your back.

Miguel wasted no time in picking you up and taking you to the bedroom.

“ This looks like a much more suitable place to spend the week.” he said, laying you down gently.

“Week? Isn't there a canon event that needs your rescuing?” you asked, to tell the truth your heart was overjoyed at the thought of him staying here with you.

“You, you're my cannon event and it's gonna take all of me to rescue you.” he said as he kissed your forehead.

“My hero.” you said as you laid your head on his chest admiring his relaxed features.

“Te amo mi cielo.” he whispered.

“Y yo a ti cariño.” you said, closing your eyes as you fell asleep alongside the love of your life.

The road to forever looked a lot brighter now

tagslist: @cooch1ecruncher @hoseokslefteyebrow @marcswife21 @whatdudtheysay @foxglove-spidey @smyfmj @mushy-mushroom04 @flooftoof @aepinkoutsold @scoliobean @elliaze

#miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #spider-man 2099 #across the spiderverse

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predestinatos · 4 months

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'tis the season, i guess — CL16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: cold winter days bring unexpected company to your bookshop. or in which your ex needs help choosing a book for his girlfriend.

words: 3.5k

tags: angst, SO much angst, dark academia vibes for some reason?, genuinely heartbreaking. some fluff but not much!

note: this was based off of this request but i got a bit carried away and wrote a whole thing! also am now obsessed with listening to sabrina carpenter... i hope everyone likes this even though it is very painful, but lmk your thoughts pls!!

The bookshop was basically empty, all the noise you could hear being yourself trying to rearrange the books in alphabetical order, and soft music playing in the background.

you stood on your tiptoes in order to reach a book at the top of the shelf, knowing a bench was available but being too lazy to go get it. Wuthering Heights refused to reach your fingertips despite your efforts and soft curses to yourself a bit louder than usual due to the emptiness of the shop.

"Need help?" a male voice called from behind, causing you to roll your eyes. Here we go, you thought to yourself, another man who catches you alone in the shop and tried to hit on you, and you'll have to find him funny and play delighted to be in his presence despite how bothersome he is, despite the ring on his finger.

"No, I'm okay, really-" you started replying, putting on your best customer service smile, fixing your hair as you turned around to face the stranger. but the person who you faced wasn't a stranger in the slightest.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you" he said as he reached behind you for Wuthering Heights, taking him zero effort to do so, increasing your frustration and disbelief.

those brief moments of closeness brought to you a thousand heart clenching memories, time standing still as his scent hit you softly.

"Try this one" you tried to stop giggling as you held the dark brown bottle in your hands and asked for his wrist.

"Tobacco Vanille? I don't want to smell like cigarettes!!" he joked, although he let you spray his wrist gently, so happy just for the sole fact that you were happy.

Your smiles reached your eyes as they met for brief seconds, waiting for the smell to hit his skin. Reactions weren't needed as your expressions turned from smiling to shocked, mouths widening at the scent that seemed to fill you both.

"It's AMAZING!" you half screamed excitedly as he smelled his wrist in confirmation. "Charlie, it smells so good I could eat you right now!"

He laughed at the nickname, at how pretty you looked, at how simple it all was. He kept laughing with the perfume in a perfectly wrapped package in his hand, the other holding yours.

"Uhm, hi" you said, as his big familiar hands stretched out to hand you the book, which you hugged tightly to your chest in an attempt to hide or disappear in it, you weren't sure "Thanks."

"No problem" he replied politely, almost annoyingly so, the tiptoeing already starting before more than a few words could be uttered, his hands in his pockets as he looked everywhere but you.

It was uncomfortable - the silence, the stillness, how both of you stood there like ghosts, waiting for some direction, something to do, something to happen. "So uhm... what brings you here?"

"Oh, I'm a wedding crasher" the stranger next to you replied, black tuxedo slightly touching your arm, a drink in his hand and shirt slightly unbuttoned.

"Really?" your eyebrows raised as you took in what he said and his appearance – the nose, especially the nose.

He laughed slightly, taking a sip of his drink and looking back at you "no, I'm friends with the bride," his finger pointed in the direction of the beautiful woman dressed in white, but all you could see was how big his hands were, adorned with rings. "And you?"

"I am an actual wedding crasher" you replied, cheeky smile adorning your lips despite the shyness you felt as your eyes locked with his. It was his time to raise his eyebrows and your turn to take a sip of beer as he repeated what you had asked seconds before. "Really?"

"No, I'm friends with the groom" you replied winking, enjoying the stranger's company and humor, his smile causing small dimples to appear in his cheeks as he looked down at his lap.

"You got me," his hand suddenly stretched towards you, palm open and inviting, "I'm Charles."

He kept shrugging and avoiding your eyes, despite the fact that he had willingly chosen to go to the place where you worked. It was making you impatient and angry, those emotions replacing the initial shock and sadness.

"I need your help choosing a book," his voice sounded weak and embarassed, shame coming through every vowel. You stood still, waiting for him to continue, wishing he'd speak faster, explain himself already or just leave and forget he even came. "For my girlfriend"

Those words twisted inside you like a sharpened knife that knew the cut would merely hurt, not kill. Despite that, you knew better, you refused to let him notice any sort of hint of how that information affected you. "Oh wow," was all you could say at first, turning around to keep placing books in shelves, distracting at least your body since your mind was restless "birthday?"

"Uh? Oh no, 6-month anniversary" he muttered, almost inaudibly. You were too aware suddenly of how your clothes felt on you, how ironic red was in the necklace you were wearing as you placed Anne Boleyn's biography in its correct place, tight between the other books. You refused to look to him now, nodding intensively so he would understand that you had heard what he said, your skin prickling as you struggled to move. Calculations ran through your mind, trying to place those 6 months in the timeline of both of your lives as he moved awkwardly behind you.

"It's funny actually, she really loves reading, I guess I do have a typ-" he began, trying to lighten the mood, but each word he said felt like another grain of salt being thrown at the open wound that was your heart.

“What does she like to read?” you interrupted him, purposefully so, knowing how clear your intention to move from the subject was.

“I read a bit of everything, but I love the classics,” you said as the cappuccinos arrived and sat prettily in the café’s table. You stared at Charles as he stared at you; his entire expression seemed to give you undivided attention, registering every word and movement of yours. He smiled at all the correct times, nodded at your statements and frowned at certain parts of your narrative almost as if he had been custom made for you.

“What’s your favorite book?” he continued, sipping his drink, some foam remaining on his top lip, a feature you smiled softly at, bravely leaning over with a napkin and cleaning it. “Thank you” he said as he noticed your blushing expression, his way of both reassuring you and brushing it off as something mundane, and you bit your lip, holding back a bigger smile than necessary.

“This is such a cliché,” you started, rolling your eyes at your answer, trying your best not to say it. “Go on” his hand suddenly stretched towards yours, resting on top of it gently, like a sheet perfectly fitted for a bed. Your body burned with the touch, what is symbolized, what it promised silently in that small café.

“It’s Catcher in the Rye,” you both burst out laughing.

“She loves Fitzgerald,” his hands touched random books, looking for something to do, fixing them, opening some of them and putting them back in place, reading the backs of them as if he was paying attention to anything they said.

“Good taste,” you tried the compliment route. You didn’t want to sound bitter, and you weren’t bitter. It was just a lot to take in so fast, his presence as painful as his words, the way both made you feel so small for such a big place, so big for such a tight room.

“That's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool,” you quoted the author as you contemplated the choices available for a lover of Fitzgerald. Work could fill your mind. Pretending it was just one more client made it easier. “Any other author or book? Help me out, Charli- Charles” you cut yourself off before the nickname could come out, hoping he wouldn’t notice, knowing that he did. You felt his entire body tense behind you as yours did, making it seem like a picture frozen in time in place, The Star-Crossed Lovers.

Charles seemed so silent that you unconsciously felt yourself turning back to check if he was still there, if he hadn’t been a fragment of your imagination after all. He stood in place, for a moment his eyes looked at you as if they hadn’t seen you in his entire life, examined you as if you were as unknown as letters in a freshly printed page. That soon faded as he snapped back to reality, registering the question with incredible delay. “Faulkner. She also likes Faulkner.”

“Aaaand Faulkner is done” you brushed some of the dust off of your hands as you stood up, looking at the now organized Classics section. “At least for the next week! Thank you for staying with me, by the way,” you said to the phone, as its screen indicated that you had been on a call for 2:45:17 hours.

“No problem,” Charles smiled. You knew he did although you didn’t see him, and that sheer though made you smile as well. “Can you do me a favour though?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement, a puppy-like tone that you cherished “open the door, I’m freezing.”

At first you were confused at his request, and you were close to questioning it until it hit you. You didn’t believe it. There could be no way he was- you rushed to the bookshop’s door, opening it while still holding your phone. Heart racing, you opened the door and saw Charles’ frame standing there, the lights illuminating his red cheeks and nose from the cold, one hand awkwardly holding the cellphone, the other trying to balance two warm drinks. He was wearing a beanie that made him look younger, softer, a puffer jacket that seemed to hug him perfectly- “Is there a code or something?” he jokingly asked, his breath visible due to the cold air outside, and you realized you had been staring for too long. You stood aside, turning the phone off as he placed the cups on the counter and removed his extra clothes.

“You didn’t have to,” you started. “I wanted to.” “You’re so sweet I could kiss you right now.” “Do it, then.”

You started browsing through the spines of the books in the shelves in front of you, looking for answers to more than one question, relying on pulling you sleeves down to your hands to mask your nervousness.

“How have you been, though?” his voice made you jump a bit, pulling you back to reality as you pulled 2 books and held them against your chest with one hand, trying to keep them from falling by lifting a leg – an awkward stance, you were sure. “Great, actually” you replied, unconvincingly so.

Things were hard after what happened with Charles, and you had taken many different routes to get over it all at first – waking up hungover in strangers’ beds, not leaving the house, breaking hearts for fun, letting people use you for fun, meaningless moment after meaningless moment, where the highlight would be hearing a voice that sounded even slightly similar to his. They got slightly better, of course, a year had passed, you could function, yet it hadn’t scarred yet – it wasn’t even close. The wound was open and bleeding and hideous and his presence, his voice, his smell, his request, it all just made the blood spill harder.

“Really?” “Hmhm,” a nod. A cough from behind you, making you turn around. His face was stern, serious. Charles was considering if coming was a good idea, what even drove him to do it in the first place. There were so many bookshops, so many other gifts he could give, yet he felt like showing up, like seeing you, at least once. Now he was there and he felt peculiar. Something close to guilt crawled on his chest, but he wasn’t sure what he was feeling guilty of, which in turn intensified his guilt.

You reached for a third book, and as you did so, the ones you were holding fell once again on the old wooden floorboards. “Shit” you muttered, crouching to grab them as Charles did the same, you two being so familiarly close, the irony of the cliché overwhelming the both of you. Getting up, Charles felt the need to offer his hand for you to hold, a support you refused to take and acknowledge, pretending you didn’t see it when it reality it seemed to be screaming at you loudly and intensely.

“So here are my recommendations, I guess” you sighed, letting him assume it was due to tiredness, knowing that he wouldn’t. Placing the 3 books on the nearest table, they faced the both of you as you stood next to each other, his arm brushing against yours, eyebrows furrowed as he examined their covers and details carefully.

Mrs. Dalloway, Age of Innocence, and One Hundred Years of Solitude sat perfectly, yet stared at the both of you defiantly, knowing their words could cut through both of your souls if they pleased.

“Don’t let yourself die without knowing the wonder of fucking with love” Charles read aloud, laying in your bed next to you, your head resting gently on his chest as you felt him laugh softly, lying naked in . “You’re right, I think I like this author.”

You laughed alongside him, both unaware of the fact that you were laughing for different reasons.

Charles’ eyes glanced quickly towards you, the same memory haunting your minds as if you were locked in a cinema of nostalgia. Shyly, his hand reached towards the hardback edition of Age of Innocence, its soft colors drawing him attention when the other options were either too painful to grab or not as tempting for his eyes.

You leaned against the polished table, looking at the way he touched the pages tenderly, fingers brushing them with a softness that reminded you of times that had gone by yet seemed to close and so recent.

His features seemed so focused, eyes moving slowly across each sentence, eyelashes prettily adorning them, his throat bobbing up and down as he swallowed dryly. He almost seemed unreal, a mirage of a stranger who was once so familiar to you, breaking the spell when he chuckled softly. “What?” you asked, whispering, too afraid that a sudden movement might make him disappear entirely. The normalcy of the moment was as terrifying as it was comforting, a moment in which it seemed like you two were the same again. “Nothing it’s just, one of the sentences I stumbled upon…”

“Which one?” you rested your chin in your hand while looking up at him, forgetting the previous moments, the previous year, every previous instance in its entirety as he looked back down at you and bit his lip nervously.

“I want somehow to get away with you into a world where words like that -categories like that- won't exist. Where we shall be simply two human beings who love each other, who are the whole of life to each other; and nothing else on earth will matter.” the room went cold and silent as the night.

“I can’t give you a relationship” he stood in his own kitchen like a foreigner, a man you almost did not recognize. “Why not?” “Because I don’t do relationships and I don’t like labels and I don’t want to hurt you by convincing you that I can.”

Your ears rung as you fought back tears. You wouldn’t cry. You were too proud for that, to show him this mattered way more to you than to him. “If you don’t want to hurt me then try, Charles.”

He shrugged, arms opened in defeat and eyes looking at the window, the snow falling down outside, locking you both in this confrontation. “I can’t.” Frustration invaded your bones and skin as you asked why once again, though your voice was tired and broken.

“It’s not because of you, I just- Can’t I just love you?” “That’s what I’m asking you to do by staying,” you reply cut like ice, and as he moved closer to you and held your face in his hands, you knew you had lost. “I can’t. Because I can’t do relationships.”

“But you will” you pushed him away as you left, knowing you were leaving your toothbrush, spare underwear, and heart there.

He interrupted the stillness before you did, clearing his throat and his mind, failing to relieve you of the pain of the past. “I’ll take this one” he said, now too polite, too frigid to go back.

You held the book and moved towards the counter, aware of his footsteps behind you, following you. You knew he was doing it because he had to pay, because he was a customer, because that’s what you’re supposed to do – yet part of you wanted it to be for a different reason, wanted his hand to suddenly reach for your wrist and tell you it was all a lie, a big prank, he was sorry and he took it all back.

You wanted him to say something daring enough for you to explode at him, to scream everything you’ve been holding inside for a year, to go back to that kitchen and its dimmed lights. To dare yourself to ask how dare he come into your workplace and throw everything at you, all politeness and fragrance and small talk, like it was nothing when you felt everything.

Instead, you wrapped the present nicely, placing a bright ribbon at the top while he fidgeted with his wallet from the other side of the counter. It was almost done, this exchange, and you didn’t know how to feel anymore. You were tired. So tired.

“Why did you come here?” you asked, facing him fully, staring at his green eyes that tried their best to hold your gaze. “Seriously, Charles, why did you come here?”

At first, he stayed silent. You refused to break the silence this time, even if he left without an answer you knew you had asked it, you did not save it for late nights lying awake. “I know you think I didn’t love you, but I do” he said.

It didn’t seem like a reply to your question, it seemed like a statement he was waiting to get out since the moment he walked in, the phrasing odd with its verbs being intentionally used in different tenses that didn’t seem to matter, at least not anymore. All you could do was laugh in disbelief, anger, or hurt, or a mix of both spreading throughout your body.

“You were- are- very important to me. You helped me realize a lot of things and if I could, I would go back in time in a heartbeat. But I can’t” he grabbed the present, hinting at the fact that he was going to leave, yet it didn’t seem fair to you. This wasn’t an apology, and was nowhere close to it, your hands trembling were a proof of such.

“You never can” you raised your chin, pride fighting against hurt as tears threatened to roll down your cheeks, jaw tense and firm, “not when it comes to me.” And there it was. What you both knew was true, said aloud like a forbidden fruit that was now bit into.

“It’s more complicated than that. And it’s alright for you to hate me, but I genuinely do love you. I care about you and think about you more than I should-“

“Do you love her?” it was a stupid question, and you knew that. You knew whatever answer he gave you would be a slap in the face, unsatisfying and painful either way. You hated yourself for the slight jealousy you felt towards a woman you barely knew, who wasn’t at fault at all, whose only problem was being too lovable.

“I do. I wouldn’t have known that if it wasn’t for you” “Oh wow. Thanks for that one” you crossed your arms across your chest, making yourself smaller, trying to hide while looking at the clock – 15 minutes left until the shop closes. 15 minutes left of the last time you’ll ever see him.

“Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn’t I enough?” he wanted to reach for you and hold you, a moment of involuntary movement almost drove him to do something he couldn’t possibly do, not anymore, at least. You looked at his sudden jerk of movement, how he stopped as if his muscles burned and prevented him from acting upon his instincts. It was the best answer he could’ve given you.

“I’m selfish. I want to look at a bookshelf and know a piece of you is there. I know I’ll never fucking see you again, and I’ll leave you alone, but God I need something to remind myself that you’re real” he said, eyes closing in shame or frustration, you couldn’t say.

“You took a part of me with you that night. And I’ll never get it back. And you walked in today and took a bit more. More than that book. And every time I think of you, you take another piece. So when you look at that book, think of your girlfriend. I am real. But what we had wasn’t. Not anymore.”

You started closing the register, ignoring his presence, hoping he’d go away. The only reason you noticed him leaving was the small bell that rang as he opened and closed the door, and you finally succumbed and let the tears run free.

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dyaz-stories · 4 months

Text

hands shaking from holding back from you || Hyun-Su x f!reader

summary: Spring is here, and Hyun-Su offers to take you out on a date, which soon leads to more between the two of you

word count: 3.5k

warnings & tags: some fluff, angst because it's sweet home, kissing, heavy make-out session, gets pretty suggestive but never explicit, monster!hyun-su makes an appearance, the pronoun 'her' is used once in reference to the reader

first one-shot · previous one-shot

A/N: to give a little context, reader and Hyun-Su were in high school together, reader was only there for a year before going to another high school, and therefore has no knowledge of the bullying which hyun-su was a victim of. this one-shot can be read independently (there's nothing intense plot-wise that requires having read the other parts), but I do recommend reading them for context.

There is something strange about spring returning in a forever changed world. It had been so fitting, the apocalypse starting with winter, when everything was dead and desolate. Now, nature is starting to bloom again. The streets should be filled with noise and people, and you should be studying for your exams. Instead, you’re rationing your food, and you haven’t been outside in forever — you don’t need to, now that you have a knight in his torn hoodie to make sure you have everything you need.

Hyun-Su truly is the silver lining in the situation. The only good thing in the world as it is. He’s been more confident around you lately, more at ease. Still, it surprises you when he comes by on a sunny afternoon, and offers, with this soft, cautious voice of his:

“Do you want to go out today?”

You’re putting away some fresh fruits he picked for you, and you turn around in confusion.

“What do you mean, out?”

‘Outside’ is dangerous. ‘Outside’ is a place you only go when you’re desperate, and you plan as efficiently as possible, to ensure you spend the least amount of time there. ‘Outside’, everything is a threat, and you can only breathe when you’re back at the house.

‘Outside’ regularly takes Hyun-Su from you.

Sure, he’s around a lot more, these days, but he still has to leave every now and then. You’ve come to understand that you’re not the only one who relies on him, but he hasn’t provided an explanation, and you haven’t pried. It burns a little every time he leaves, and yet…

And yet, the fear that he wouldn’t answer if you asked is worse. The fear that he might not come back if you didn’t let it rest. The fear that if he had to choose, he wouldn’t choose you.

“It’s nice out,” he answers, and you notice him retreating even as he’s still speaking. “But you don’t have to, if you don’t want to—”

“No, I’d love to,” you cut him off before he can doubt himself further. “I just— Wouldn’t that be— dangerous?”

“Oh.” He smiles, and it’s mesmerizing. It’s not the bright, joyful smile you were used to seeing, back in high school, but being more subdued doesn’t make it any less genuine. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

There’s no cockiness in his voice, just confidence.

“Then… Sure. I’d love to go out with you.” And you’re not usually the type to say that, because you don’t have the guts for it, but you feel comfortable enough with Hyun-Su to lean towards him with a playful smile. “It’s a date then?”

He lets out a brief, surprised laugh, then glances down at his feet while his cheeks and ears turn red.

“Sure. It’s a date.”

Even if you were the instigator, you still feel your face burn at how soft his eyes are when he looks back at you.

He looks at you like you’re one of the seven wonders.

You see him lick his lips as his eyes fall on yours. You could always take the step to fill the distance between the two of you, but Hyun-Su rarely initiates, so you want to give him the chance to do so. When he does, it’s always so soft and so careful, like he’s afraid of breaking you. After a few seconds, he clears his throat, looks away again — and it’s alright. You won’t rush him.

“I’ll go get ready,” you hum, stepping out of the room.

You miss the way Hyun-Su follows you with adoring eyes.

When you emerge back from your room, Hyun-Su is waiting for you, and you follow him, heart rate spiking when you go through the door. Being outside again, without the need to go get some specific and vital item, is— strange. Your eyes dart around you, constantly taking in your surroundings. There are surprisingly few monsters, compared to the chaos that was early winter. In front of you, Hyun-Su walks casually, seemingly without paying much attention to what is happening around him. You trust him, you really do, but there’s you still find it unnerving about that.

When you jump at some faraway sound, that turns out to be just birds flying away, scared by your approach, he offers you his hand, an amused smile on his lips. He might even suppress a laugh, but you can’t tell for sure.

“Is that okay?” he asks you softly as he closes his fingers around yours.

He treats you like you’re made of porcelain.

“It’s much better,” you reply with a smile, even if you feel a little sheepish.

For a second, he stares into your eyes, before he looks away and lets out a deep, long exhale. You don’t question him, just give his hand a squeeze, hoping it comes off as a silent reassurance.

He squeezes back, then pulls you with him as you keep going through the city.

“Is there— Is there nothing here anymore?” you ask. It feels like you should have seen a monster by now.

“They’re here,” Hyun-Su replies casually, like monsters aren’t a death promise. “They just know better than to approach.”

You swallow. You understand what he doesn’t say — they know better than to approach him — but it’s not that much of a reassurance, for you. You quicken your pace to stay closer to him. It says a lot about how far he’s come that he doesn’t jump when your shoulder brushes against his.

“They’re not all dangerous,” he says. You know he intends for it to be reassuring, but all you can do is grimace in response.

“They might not be,” you answer — you remember a flash of wings as an unseen monster ripped the snake-like creature that was trying to enter your home —, “but it’s not like I have a way of knowing which ones are safe and which ones aren’t.”

There’s a long silence as Hyun-Su keeps walking.

“But isn’t that true of humans, too?” he asks you in the end. He sounds so— sad, and yet you don’t know what to tell him to make it better. He’s not like them, you want to assure him. You’d never conflate him with the ones that tried to murder you — but it’s not like you can forget about them altogether either. Being wrong about trusting a monster, being wounded once could sign your end.

“It is,” you reply slowly. It’s especially true in this new world, where humans have dropped all their inhibitions. “I guess it’s just— Humans have been less of danger to me, you know?” A brief laugh. “But it’s not like I’m running after them either, right? I haven’t stepped foot near the shelter.”

Your dad didn’t trust the military, and you’re distrustful of authority. There might be strength in numbers, but you wouldn’t feel safe being surrounded by men with machine guns while you have nothing.

Hyun-Su hums at your answer. It does seem to have brought him some comfort, and yet you feel the need not to leave it at that.

“You know I trust you, right?” He freezes and turns to look at you. “Both sides,” you insist. “I know you’re safe.”

His lips part as if to say something, before he closes them again and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. Finally, he nods.

“I feel safe with you, too,” he says. The sentence catches you by surprise, almost makes you want to laugh, because— who in their right mind would think you’re a threat? But Hyun-Su says it with such gravitas that you can only assume that there’s something that you don’t know about under there. Truth be told, there’s a lot you haven’t talked about with him. He’s not talkative, not anymore at least, and it’s hard to know which questions you can ask before reaching a painful subject. And there are countless of these, for everyone, since the Apocalypse hit. “Come on,” he adds after a few seconds. “We’re almost there.”

He pulls you towards a half-broken down outside staircase. You can’t make your way up on your own, so he grabs you by the hips to help you up, and you let out a surprised yelp when strong hands pull you close to him, his chest against your back, to lift you up. Immediately, his body tenses up and he stills, which means you’re all too aware of how close he is now, of his breath on your neck and his body against yours.

“Sorry,” he says. “Is that okay?”

Gosh, he’s sweet to ask, but you’re really happy he cannot see your expression right now.

“It’s fine,” you squeak, “just caught me off guard. Don’t worry about it.”

He seems to hesitate for a second, and oh, you’re so aware of his fingers on your hips, before he lifts you up as if you weighed nothing, first on his shoulder, then easily higher, so you can grab the bottom of the staircase.

“All good?” he asks once you’re up there.

“All good! Do you need—”

But he’s made his way up before you can finish your sentence, and you blink. Right. Some people are athletic.

“Go ahead,” he says, gesturing towards the stairs. “I’ll catch you if anything goes wrong.”

It shouldn’t feel reassuring, should make you think that you’re at risk, but you meant it when you said you trusted him. Knowing he’s there to watch over you… It’s like having your own personal guardian angel.

There are no issues, however, and you soon arrive on the rooftop — which takes your breath away. This had to have belonged to someone with money, because there is a whole garden there. Overgrown grass, flowers, and even a few trees. Birds are chirping, and it feels… Well, it feels like the kind of places you’d go to laze around on a sunny afternoon with your friends, like an actual park. Being secluded and high up, it is however much safer than any park you could actually go to now. When you turn around, you’re met with an impressive view of the city. It looks peaceful from up here, just a quiet spring day.

Then you notice that Hyun-Su is staring at you, and what you see takes your breath away. He’s smiling. Actually smiling. Wide and bright.

You’re quick to look away, embarrassed by the emotions you’re sure are obvious on your face. Tilting your head up, you let yourself receive the sun.

It’s been a long time since you’ve been this happy.

Hyun-Su often feels that, when he’s with you, all he can do is stare. He likes watching you when you’re at home, going about your day in the house, or sitting by a window and reading. It makes him feel so— welcome, knowing that he can just be there, with you, and that you’ll never mind his presence, never ask him to leave.

Never ignore him and pretend he doesn’t exist.

It makes him feel like he belongs, being around you, makes him feel at peace.

Or, at least, it did, because the emotions swirling under his skin right now are much more complex than they used to be.

He met you, or met you again, in the winter, when you were bundled up under coats and scarves and layers upon layers of clothes. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the change in your wardrobe lately.

It makes sense, of course. Days are getting warmer. Not only is there no need for you to keep wearing pullovers and disappear into huge coats. But the way your clothes are hugging your body these days, how they accentuate your curves, how your t-shirt rides up to reveal the skin of your stomach…

He can’t say that it makes it more difficult to be around you, because he doesn’t think that anything could do that. You make him feel like he can breathe again, like he’s finally coming up to the surface after spending ages lost in dark waters, not knowing which way was up and which way was down. It’s just that it— takes a lot of place in his mind.

He can already barely stop thinking about you as it is, knows that the Kid and Yi-Kyung have noticed already how his mind always seems to wander away from them. This, though, this is a whole other can of worms. Because he doesn’t know how to act about it. Doesn’t know how you’d feel if you knew. Doesn’t know if you’d look at him with pity, if you’d tell him you never want to see him again, if it would disgust you.

Yet, no matter how much he tries to stop himself, he always comes back to staring. You tilt your head up towards the sky, close your eyes.

You’re beautiful.

If he was another man, he’d walk up to you to wrap his arms around you, he’d whisper something in your ear, he’d kiss you.

Just as the thought crosses his mind, his leg twitches. It takes him a second to understand that it’s not just an involuntary muscle reaction. Inside him, the monster is swelling, clawing its way up towards the surface.

If you don’t do something about this, I will, it whispers inside him. And let’s be honest, maybe that would be for the best, because what could you do? At least I wouldn’t be afraid to touch her.

Hyun-Su tries his best to force it back down, to ignore the sting of the words, but the monster refuses to let up. Finally, he takes a step in your direction, then another. The closer he is to you, the less the monster puts up a fight — but it still refuses to go down completely.

You turn to look at him when he reaches you, tilting your head in quiet questioning.

Hyun-Su feels himself lifting his hand to touch your cheek, and it’s so spontaneous, so natural that he can’t really say who’s in control there. Your skin is soft under his, and as he leans in to kiss you, he cannot forget how fragile you are compared to him. How one wrong surge from the creature he harbors inside himself could end it all, how careful he needs to be.

And, when his lips brush against yours and you kiss him back without hesitation, he’s reminded of how you either don’t know that or don’t care.

There must be something in the air, because without thinking, his hand comes to your waist, then the small of your back, pulling you close to him. Again, he can’t tell if it’s the monster making its own decision, or if it’s just natural and he’s just doing what he truly wants to do. Both thoughts are worrying.

But you’re not aware of all the questions going on his mind, and all you do is tilt your head up to give him better access to your mouth — and it makes his pulse rush and his mind goes haywire.

Normally, he’d know better. Right now, he feels your hands, trapped against his chest, gripping his hoodie and pulling him down towards you, just a little closer, because there isn’t much space left between the two of you anyway.

He tilts you back now, still without thinking — there isn’t enough space for that in his mind at this moment, not when it’s so filled with you you you — hands firmly holding you against him. His tongue pushes against your lips, and you part them almost immediately, welcoming him in your mouth. His blood is pumping, his whole body feels scorching hot, and you’re right there, running your fingers along his jaw and over his neck, leaving burning trails everywhere you touch.

His tongue intertwines with yours and he feels, more than he hears, you whimper into him.

Immediately, a sense of urgency forces him to pull back. One second, he’s pressed against yours, the next, he’s taken two steps back, and your eyes open in confusion.

“Are you okay?’ he asks, searching for a way he’s hurt you, anything indicating that something’s wrong. But all he finds is swollen lips that you press together as you glance away from him.

“Um, yeah, everything’s fine,” you mumble, and it takes an embarrassingly long time for him to understand what kind of noise that was.

Oh.

He’s immediately desperate to hear it again.

He brings you back against him to kiss you once more, and there it is, coming from the back of your throat.

He’s not sure what happens, who initiates what, if he’s in control at all, but soon he knows that your back is against the grass, and he’s above you, kissing you just as fiercely. Your hands are wandering now — his shoulders, first, then his arms, then tracing the muscles of his chest and down to his abs. He wants to respond in kind, wants so badly to feel you, but the second he moves his hands, fear assaults him again.

“Is that—” He breaks the kiss to look at you in worry. “Is that okay?”

He illustrates the question with the softest of touch on your skin. You let out a brief laugh — not a mocking one, though.

“You really don’t have to keep asking that,” you say, and your eyes are adoring. Then, when he stays still, you push yourself on your elbows to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. Then his jaw. Then his neck.

Hyun-Su can only stay there, frozen in bliss, as you pepper his skin with kisses. Finally, as you’re reaching his collarbone, you take his hand in yours to bring it back on your body, and then you lie back down, allowing him to take the lead now.

His hand is shaking as he slides it under your t-shirt, all of his senses overwhelmed with need. He wants you so bad, he has a hard time understanding it. Kissing you is familiar. The way your body arches against yours, pushing into his touch— isn’t. His immediate want for more, more of the sounds you make, more of your body, more of you, that is all new, too.

He feels feverish as he mirrors your previous actions, kissing down your neck and lingering in one spot when he discovers it makes you whimper. Now that you’re not muffled with his mouth, your sounds echo louder, and they’re music to his ears, in a way that fuels the fire you’ve lit inside him. His hips press down into you, and a jolt of pleasure jolts through him, which when he realizes that he’s—

He tears himself away from you for the second time, stumbling back to end up just a couple meters away from you.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “sorry about that.”

You sit up, looking a little confused.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

It’s his line, and it takes him a while to piece together what you could mean by that. It’s not like there’s any way for you to hurt him. If anything, you should be disgusted by him. There’s no way you didn’t feel him, which means you know he’s hard. But you’re just looking at him in concern.

“Sorry,” he repeats. “I shouldn’t— I shouldn’t have—”

“Hyun-Su,” you call gently as you scoot over towards him. “It’s all good. I didn’t— um— I didn’t mind. But we— we can stop here for now, if you’d rather.”

Inside him, the monster protests vaguely, but this time Hyun-Su has no issue sending it back to the abyss it came from. He’s overwhelmed, heart beating erratically, and he doesn’t know what would happen if things kept going. He wasn’t in control, not really, and he— he can’t risk it. Not with you.

“Sorry,” he repeats, feeling miserable.

Slowly, you put your arms around him. There’s nothing suggestive about it. You’re just doing your best to bring him comfort.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. Your fingers run gently through his hair in appeasing motions. He rests his head against your shoulder.

He’s not alone.

You’re just there, talking to him, touching him, right against him. You’re not doing anything to move away, not looking at him like he’s some mistake, and it feels like his heart is trying to jump out of his chest.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

Your fingers still for a moment, before you go back to your ministrations.

“For what?”

And, God, the fact that you don’t even know, that you don’t even realize everything you’re doing, everything you’ve done for him since that first day when you spotted him in the street and ran after him…

He draws in a trembling breath.

“Thank you,” he just repeats.

You don’t ask any more questions, just keep gently playing with his hair.

The sky’s blue, the birds are singing, the town is quiet. It’s just you and him, sitting in the grass, on the rooftop.

If someone were to miraculously pass by and see the two of you there, they’d probably think that you were, indeed, on a date.

okay, I hope you're enjoying this little series! I'm not sure what I'll work on next. i know i'm eventually going to write smut for them, though it's going to be very soft because... well it has to be between them lol. someone has also said they wanted to see them tackle the world together a bit more, so I'm also thinking about writing a one-shot where they meet ha-ni and ho-sang, because i thought that ho-sang's intense dislike for hyun-su could imply they've met before. anyway, yeah, i have a couple different ideas.

i would really appreciate it if you left a comment, whether here, in the tags or in a reblog, and tell me anything you're liking in this series! interactions really motivate me and keep me writing :)

next one-shot

#hyun su x reader #cha hyun su x reader #sweet home #sweet home netflix #cha hyun su #sweet home x reader #sweet home season 2 #cha hyunsoo #cha hyunsoo x reader #hyunsoo x reader #sweet home imagine #sweet home fanfic #my writing

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months

Text

Crawl Home to Her

Pairing: Osferth x f!reader Warnings: Religious guilt. Canon-typical violence. Mild angst. Loss of virginity. Smut. Word count: ~3.5k

Summary: Part two of Deathless Death. Osferth has a crisis of conscience and faith, however, an attack on their party by the Danes makes him realise what's at stake. Based on this request. Series masterlist.

Author's note: For @valeskafics. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Osferth rouses slowly into wakefulness, blinking his eyes open. For a moment, his mind is blissfully silent, focusing only on the canopy of green leaves above and the chirping of the birds in the woodland that surrounds him and his travel companions.

That is until the memory of the previous evening floods back to him; the taste of her upon his tongue, her cries of pleasure that had echoed through the trees and up into the night sky. He can still feel the smoothness of her thighs beneath his fingertips, the way the softness of her flesh had yielded beneath his hands as she’d hovered above his face while he’d devoured her like a man starved.

His throat tightens at the thought, his cock stirring in his breeches. He turns on his bed roll to face her, expecting to see her peacefully sleeping next to him, just as she usually is, her features a vision of angelic beauty. However, the space beside him lays empty and his brow furrows in concern as he props himself up on his elbow to look around for her.

He spots her. She kneels at a fallen log, her hands clasped in prayer against it. The early morning sunlight filters through the branches casting the top of her head in golden light. She is the picture of innocence, truly angelic, and guilt and shame wash over Osferth in thick, hot waves. He would have sullied her upon the filthy forest floor, if the others had not come back and interrupted them. Worse still, she would have allowed him to. This pure, devout, impressionable girl had been a vessel for his lust. Seeing her as she is now, Osferth vows to keep his distance; he must do better by her, despite his yearning for her.

He is startled momentarily when she opens her eyes and looks directly at him, clearly having sensed his gaze upon her. Her smile is warm, making her eyes soften with fondness as she looks at him.

“You’re awake,” she says, her voice gentle. Osferth will never have enough of that dulcet sound, it is sweeter than honeyed wine. “Will you join me?”

He nods, not trusting himself to speak and makes his way over to her, kneeling on the opposite side of the log. It’s a deliberate choice, a need to place a physical barrier between the two of them so that he is not tempted to reach out for her, to feel her lips upon his once more.

If she is offended by his decision, she does not show it, lowering her head once more and closing her eyes. Osferth wonders what she prays for. Had she awoken this morning filled with regret for what they’d done and is now praying for God to cleanse her of her misdeeds?

Pressing his own hands together, he closes his eyes and bows his head.

Please, Lord, give me the strength to resist her. Do not allow me to sully her innocence with my sinful behaviour any more than I already have. Forgive her for transgressions, for she does not understand fully what she has done, and was led astray by my lust.

“First one awake’s meant to light the fire,” he hears Finan grumble sleepily in annoyance from a few feet away.

He sighs, standing and walking towards the pit that had been dug the day before. “Apologies, Finan, I’ll do it now.”

The rest of the morning passes peacefully. Uhtred’s talk of their travel plans serves as a welcome distraction, though he is unable to stop himself from glancing over at her. She looks at him with such adoration that it makes his heart squeeze. He is not worthy of basking in the affection of her gaze, yet he craves it all the same.

When it comes time to move on, she leans back against his chest as they ride, and it takes everything he has not to wrap his arms around her waist. His knuckles turn white from the intensity with which he keeps a hold of his horse’s reins, knowing that if he lets go his hands will be upon her in an instant.

She tucks herself against his chest as they bed down again that night and he is glad to wrap his arms loosely around her, keeping her close. He reasons he is simply keeping her warm, nothing more, until she looks up at him doe-eyed and expectant.

“Will you kiss me again?” She whispers into the darkness and he feels a pit open in his stomach.

“Not tonight, my lady”, he tells her quietly, “get some rest.”

He hates telling her no. The way her face crumples in disappointed sadness feels like a dagger to his chest, but it is for her own good. A kiss would lead to more and he cannot do that to her. He must control himself for the both of them.

She nuzzles into him, closing her eyes and he allows himself a moment to simply let his hands stroke through the silken strands of her hair, soft as angel’s wings.

He is thankful that the constant presence of Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric during the day prevents her from asking about the night he had tasted her. He can see it in her face each time she looks at him, longing in her eyes and questions on the tip of her tongue, but she’d never dare speak of it in company, so he always ensures they are never alone.

Come nightfall she clutches against his robes as they lay together, and he savours her closeness, her warmth, her scent, pretending his actions are a matter of duty that he derives no pleasure from.

She catches him off guard a few mornings later, excitement in her eyes as she approaches him.

“There is a river close by. I’d like to bathe. Will you join me?”

Osferth feels himself flush scarlet all the way to the tips of his ears. The thought rivulets of water running down her skin, tracing the curves of her body, has him swallowing thickly in order to maintain his composure. But he cannot give in.

He picks up his sword, fastening it to his belt. “I will keep watch to ensure you are safe, my lady.”

Her gaze lowers, he can see he has disappointed her yet again and guilt gnaws at him. He detests that doing the right thing makes her so sad.

She turns and walks off in the direction of the riverbank, and he dutifully follows her. He has to physically force himself to turn away when she begins to undress. Never having seen her fully bare before, he is desperate to look, but knows he will not be able to control himself if he does.

In his peripheral vision he sees her form illuminated by sunlight as she steps from the bank and into the water. Her movements are slow, deliberate, and he glances quickly at her, seeing how her hands move through the water, over her hair and down her body.

Looking quickly away, he wonders how someone so angelic can be such a temptress. He wants to protect her virtue, yet ravage her at the same time, and it seems she is attempting to lure the latter half of him out to play. She does not know the full weight of what she is asking, however, and Osferth could not live with himself if he laid with her, only for her to regret it.

He keeps his focus on the surrounding woodland, to make sure no one approaches or sees her as she is bathing. He does not look upon her again until she returns to him, dressed once more, her hair damp from the river.

She looks up at him with wide, imploring eyes and Osferth feels panic flutter in his chest. They are alone. They are alone, and she is going to ask him about what happened between them and he will not know what to tell her. What could he possibly say? That he is a sinner? That he cannot control himself? That he swore to protect her and has taken advantage of her instead?

“Did I do something wrong?” She asks sadly.

The question hits him like a punch to the gut. How could she assume she is to blame for anything?

He opens his mouth to reply, but she beats him to it. “Was it not good…the other night? Have you decided you don’t want me after all?”

Her tone is filled with insecure hurt and Osferth feels as though he wants to cry. He had never meant to make her feel unwanted. If only she knew that she is everything he has ever wanted and everything he does not deserve simultaneously.

“Osferth?” Sihtric’s voice echoing through the trees interrupts them, as the crackle of branches heralds his approaching footsteps.

He turns to face the direction he is coming from, brows rising in concern as he sees the hardened look upon Sihtric’s face. This is serious.

“Get ready to go,” he tells them both. “We are being tracked by Harald’s men.”

Without thinking, Osferth grabs her hand, rushing her back to camp. They hurriedly pack away their belongings, kicking out the fire, before mounting up and moving on at speed.

She rests wordlessly against his chest, and he knows they will eventually need to continue their conversation from earlier, but right now his only focus is on keeping her safe. If he cannot do that then he has failed in his entire reason for taking her with him from Alton in the first place.

Their horses are brought to an abrupt halt, rearing up slightly when Danes ambush them in a clearing, surrounding them. Bile rises in Osferth’s throat, icy fingers of fear wrapping around his heart - not for himself, but for what may happen to her.

As Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric dismount, withdrawing their weapons, he leans forward whispering quickly to her. “Run. Run away and don’t look back. I will find you after.”

He feels her trembling like a leaf, and wishes he could do more to comfort her, but in this moment the best source of comfort is to protect her and, so as she flees, he jumps down from his horse and unsheathes his own weapon.

Osferth is not a masterful warrior, but travelling with Uhtred has sharpened his skills and he fights with more confidence than terror with each passing day.

Allowing pure instinct and adrenaline ro guide his movements, he drives forward, slashing with his blade, ignoring the ache in his shoulder and the wet, dull sounds of steel biting into flesh.

A sharp sting against his temple happens so quickly that he barely registers he is cut, until he feels the warm trickle of blood in his eye. He blinks it away in time to see Uhtred run through the Dane responsible for causing the injury.

He is panting, sweaty, sight in one eye reddened by ichor by the time they have cut down Harald’s men. Those not killed have fled, but any solace he feels is short lived as dread and regret spur him into action, he runs through the woods in search of her.

Stupid fool.

If he’d have known better, he’d have taken her and rode away, not left her to fend for herself. What if some of Harald’s men have come after her? What if she’s dead?

As Osferth races through the trees he can no longer tell if the warmth upon his cheeks is blood or tears, he simply knows he has to find her.

His heart soars, relief and exhilaration flooding through him when he spots her cowering in a thicket, fresh tears pricking his eyes.

She is safe.

He calls out to her and she raises her head, her eyes wide with fright, though she visibly relaxes when she sees him, stepping out from her hiding place.

His jaw clenches in anger when he sees the slash in the sleeve of her dress, a long, angry looking red gash adorns the flesh of her forearm.

“Did they hurt you?” He asks, unable to mask the worry in his voice.

She shakes her head. “I caught myself on a low hanging branch when I ran away. It is my own clumsiness that is at fault, no one else.”

Reaching up, her fingers brush over the cut to his temple. “You are hurt…”

Osferth winces, though does his best to sound brave in spite of the pain. “It’s only a scratch. The fact that you are safe is all that matters to me.”

They stare at each other unblinking for a moment, her thumb tenderly wipes away the tears that have tracked down his cheeks.

If they are not meant to be together then why would God deliver her safely back to him? They both could have died today and all he wants to do is kiss her.

Before he can second guess himself, he leans in, pressing his lips to hers, smiling into the kiss as he feels her return the gesture, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him close.

She is alive, they both are, and he has never felt more so than in this moment.

That night, they do not sleep upon the forest floor. Uhtred finds them lodgings at a village alehouse, stating they have all suffered enough for one day and deserve the comfort of a decent night’s rest.

Retreating upstairs, bellies filled with ale and stew, Uhtred, Finan and Sihtric pile into one room, leaving Osferth and her to the other. It is humble, simply furnished, with a small double bed.

Osferth’s pulse races, keeping his back to her as he removes the light leather armour from his wrists and chest, leaving himself in just his robes. They have never spent the night alone together like this before. What would she be expecting of him?

He lips part involuntarily as he turns back to see her dressed only in her cotton shift. She has removed her dress, and tended to the cut upon her arm. She is beautiful, so beautiful, and he feels himself redden with embarrassment as she looks up and smiles, clearly having caught him staring.

She squeezes water from a cloth into a basin, before turning back to him. “Here, let me,” she says, gesturing to the wound on his temple.

Osferth approaches her slowly, his breathing unsteady. He hisses lightly at the sting of it as she gently presses the dampened cloth to his injury.

“Forgive me,” she whispers, lightening her touch, and his chest tightens.

As if my forgiveness is something you would ever need to seek.

She dabs at his face, placing the cloth into the bowl several more times as she goes, wringing it out, until she is satisfied he is clean.

Dropping the cloth back into the bowl, she places her hands against his face. She regards him with such tenderness that he has to close his eyes, unable to stand the way it makes it feel as though his heart will burst out of his chest.

Her fingertips move lightly over the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, over his lips, chin and jaw. If this is what it feels like to be worshiped then the satisfaction God must experience is beyond gratification.

He gasps as he feels her lips press eagerly his once more and moves his mouth hungrily against hers, tangling his fingers into her hair and walking her back towards the bed.

Pushing her back, he hovers over his, his lips trailing a path down her neck to her collarbones, before kissing the rest of her body through her shift. Eagerly, he pushes the cotton above her hips, finding her wet and wanting, eager to be tasted again.

Osferth’s gaze flickers back up to her face. Her eyes are glossy and darkened by desire, her lips swollen with kisses and parted as she breathes heavily through them.

If he had died today, he is certain the grave he ended up in would not be enough to hold him back from crawling back to her, if only to see her like this. But in that same moment, he remembers the men he has killed today, his hands sullied by blood, lives ended by his hand.

He is unfit to touch her. He cannot besmirch her virtue with his uncleanliness.

He bows his head, exhaling sadly. “I–I cannot go any further, my lady,” he whispers, “I would not dirty you with hands that are not worthy of you.”

She props herself up on her elbows. “And what about what I want? It is my virtue to give away, don’t I get to decide who takes it?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking, you cannot give me this,” he argues, eyebrows drawn together in a pleading expression.

“I know perfectly well what it is that I want,” she replies, her tone defiant.

She shifts on the bed, pushing him onto his back, and he lets her. All his fight has left him, so he simply lays there, watching her with curiosity as she sits astride him.

Carefully, her hands pull at his clothes, stripping him of his robe, trousers and breeches. He quietly allows her to do so, lifting his body as needed to aid her task until he lays utterly naked before him.

Osferth has never been nude in front of anyone before. He had anticipated feeling shame and embarrassment, wanting to curl in on himself to hide from her. However, her gaze is filled with such warmth and innocence, she looks upon him in wonder, the way that people gaze at sunsets and meadows of wildflowers. It makes pride swell within his chest to be looked upon as though he is worthy.

Her lips brush gently against his, and as quickly as he leans up to kiss her back, she is moving away. Her mouth trails a path down his neck, across his chest and over his abdomen, before she allows her fingertips to take the same journey. He shivers, feeling his manhood pulsate under her attention.

He sucks in a breath when he feels her hand wrap around his cock, testing the weight and feel of it in her palm, eyeing it reverently, before she lets go and comes to lay beside him.

She pulls her shift over her head, discarding it upon the floor, and his eyes widen, drinking in the sight of her. Not even the most diligent monks in his days at the monastery could illuminate visions as lovely as she is.

“I do not know what I am doing. I’ve never done this before, but I want to. Osferth, please.”

Her quiet plea is all he needs to hear. He turns her onto her back, hovering over her and kisses her deeply. A rumble of appreciation vibrates through him as he feels her instinctively part her thighs.

Pulling away, he grasps the base of himself, guiding his tip to her waiting entrance.

“Are you sure?” He asks, eyes locking with hers.

“I have never wanted anything more. Please.”

Her words make his stones ache and he presses forwards, jaw going slack at the feeling of how tight she is as his length forces apart her walls.

She whines quietly at the intrusion, though as he studies her face he is met with desire rather than the discomfort that he had anticipated. It excites him to know that she wants him, though he fears he would not be able to stop now even if he wanted to.

If lying with other women has been the closest he has come to seeing the face of God before, then in this moment he has truly died and gone to heaven.

His thrusts into her are slow and soft, his lips linger against hers, exchanging sticky kisses and laboured breaths. As his passage eases, his movements become slightly harder and faster, groaning as she grows wetter, clenching around him as the wooden bed frame creaks with their efforts.

This is his forbidden fruit. He has tasted her and now there is no going back. He loses himself in the sensation of her, his grip on her tight as she writhes beneath him, the sounds she makes are sweeter than any music.

Noticing her tensing when his thrusts are shallower, he repeats the motion in earnest until suddenly she is crying out, pulsating around him, pulling him quickly towards release. He pulls out, stroking himself to completion, watching the way his spend paints her bare flesh in pearlescent ropes.

Breathlessly he falls back against the mattress, pulling her to him, wanting her close. She is pliable, eager, and snuggles against him, her head upon his chest.

He looks down at her through hooded eyes and she smiles back up at him, her gaze filled with warm affection.

“I love you,” she whispers.

The words stick in his throat. They are not enough to convey the depth of his feelings for her. They are just words, much like heaven and hell, and they are worthless. He will never want for anything, as long as he has her.

So, he simply kisses her, hoping that it is enough for her to understand just how precious she is to him.

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hier--soir · 6 months

Text

high strung

abby anderson x f!reader

pairing: abby anderson x personal trainer wlf f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: abby has seemed distracted in your sessions as of late. when you discover why, you help to ease some of her tension. warnings/tags: some tight little workout shorts, abby "i'm not gay" anderson has her first experience with a woman, r insert is a trainer but has zero physical descriptions, massage, gay panic, smut, fingering & oral [abby receiving], reference to masturbation [reader], brief mention of other wlf characters from tlou2, brief owen slander lol sorry. word count: 3.5k masterlist a/n: considering abby isn't explicitly queer in tlou2, i wanted to write a short n sharp little bisexual awakening for her. bit of a quick build up but idc i don't know anything about the gym and wanted to get to the gay sex lol, hope you enjoy!

She’s wearing these tight little shorts. Pale blue. So thin they’re almost sheer where they wrap around the bulkiest points of her thighs.

You don’t look, don’t let your eyes roam over the reedy material, don’t glance down when she bends her knees and drops into a squat. Don’t don’t don’t. Don’t even look when she lays out on the bench, flat on her back, and those shorts bunch and pinch in the crevice where her legs meet her hips. No, you’re well-versed in this now. Adept at not looking.

“Show me ten,” you tap the bar once.

Abby grips the barbell. The skin of her knuckles turns a piercing white as her fingers flex and tighten around the metal. Ninety pounds on either end, and yet she lifts it off the rack with a practiced sort of ease. You feel a familiar rush of pride as she moves effortlessly through the first few reps, her breathing calm—relaxed. Your hands hover, useless, in the air over the bar. Ready to step in if you’re needed, but knowing that you won’t be.

The gym at the base is usually crowded. Sweat covered surfaces, muscle tanks in every conceivable direction, and plenty of shirtless assholes that think they own the place. But this morning you hit the jackpot, arriving early in the morning when there’s only a few others milling around.

“That’s it,” you mutter. “Good, good, give me another one.”

You notice it slowly. The same way it happened last week, and the week before that. The gradual progression; a tilting, wavering, descent into mistakes, into heavy breathing, into distraction. From behind her head, you watch her knees raise a little, feet arched until she’s balanced on her tip-toes, the muscles in her thighs straining.

Her fingers loosen a little around the bar. Grip faltering, failing. A muscle in her forearm flexes and spasms beneath the skin.

“Hey,” you warn, hands darting forward to rest on the metal. “Come on, we’re not even halfway done.”

Abby doesn’t offer up a response. Doesn’t meet your eyes. She simply huffs out a breath of exertion and presses the bar upward again. Beads of sweat glisten along her forehead, snatching at wisps of loose blonde hair and pinning them to pale skin.

“Good,” you commend, fingers hovering featherlight. But then it happens again. Her face twitches, lips pursing, and she grunts. A low, frustrated sound.

“Abby,” you sigh. She allows you to grip the bar, and together you lift it back into the groove on the rack. “Are you hungover again?”

“No,” she scowls. She sits up and wipes a reddened hand across her face. There’s a patch of sweat on the back of her shirt, and the darkened material clings to her spine.

“Then what’s the problem?” you arch an eyebrow. When she doesn’t turn to look at you, you walk around to stand directly in front of her. “Manny keeping you up at night? Burnt out? What?”

“No,” she repeats, and this time you think you catch a flash of irritation. Something angry, something heated, rolling beneath the surface of her skin, begging to be expelled.

And you’ve seen the way she can lash out. Seen how people cower and shrink beneath her steely gaze when she’s mad. Quickly, easily, you decide you’d rather not spend your morning getting chewed out for being nosy.

“Listen,” you say. “Why don’t we call it for the day? We ca—”

“I’m fine,” Abby asserts firmly. But the hard set of her jaw and the tension in her shoulders hints otherwise.

You watch her snatch a water bottle off the ground and tilt it against her mouth. Watch the way she drinks in long, hurried gulps. Watch the way her throat bobs as she swallows. Watch a dribble of water snake down her chin, her neck. Don’t.

You look away.

“You’re distracted,” you retort with an eyeroll. “If you hurt yourself in here Isaac will have my ass.”

She shakes her head and mutters something under her breath. A broad hand pushes the hair back off her face, mussing it behind her ears, and then she meets your eye.

“I’m just…” she trails off and glances away. Clears her throat a little. “I’m feeling a little tense, okay? Everyday I’m either in here, or Isaac has me out scouting some fucking Scar hot spot, and I’m exhausted, and my legs are fucking killing me.”

You feel your face soften, mouth tilting down into a sympathetic frown.

“I get it,” you nod. “Hey, I’m sorry, I know I push you pretty hard in here—”

“It’s not—” Abby shakes her head again. “You’re not the problem.”

You don’t know what to say to that. For a moment the two of you rest in a wary silence. Listen to the sounds of people working out around you; muted grunts of exertion, the spouted praise from spotters standing close by. You notice the way she flinches when someone racks a weight a little too aggressively – a little too loud.

“Let’s go in the back,” you suggest easily, already turning away. “We’ll do some physio; I’ll help with the knots in your legs.”

It’s a simple routine once you get her onto the massage table. Tucked away in a back room, door closed, her shoes off, you can set to work without so much distraction.

You start with her calves. Using the palms of your hands, the pads of your thumbs, you rub against the tightly coiled muscles there. Working out any knots that you find, any hidden strains. Moving slowly, purposefully, working your way up until you hit her thighs. And that’s where the tension becomes evident.

It seems like Abby is in pain as you dig your thumbs into her outer thigh. Her face is all screwed up, eyes closed as soft little grunts slip from her mouth. When you find a particularly tight knot and press she spits a low curse, eyes clamping shut and face turning to the side.

“You doin’ okay?” you check in, eyebrows furrowed as you watch the way she squirms and wriggles around on the table – as if she’s shying away from your touch. As if it’s too much for her. “I’m really not pressing that hard, Abby.”

“It’s good,” she chokes out. “Keep going.”

You continue with a sigh, crackling your knuckles before using both hands to work at the muscle in her upper thigh.

“Jesus,” you sigh. Your palm rolls over her quadricep, working to release the built-up rigidity there. “You’re so tense.”

“Sorry,” Abby grits out, voice hoarse and stilted as it sneaks its way out past her teeth. It’s like she’s holding her breath, the way sharp exhales rush from her nose every few seconds.

“It’s fine,” you assure her. Your fingers press against her knee, and you push it up towards her chest until her thigh is pressed against her stomach. Stretch out the muscles there, let her feel the pull, the burn as her knots loosen. “Do you need—oh.”

Because you look down and the words get caught in your throat. Musing caught like a mouse in a trap, your mouth suddenly feels like sandpaper. And you were always so good at not looking, never looking. But now… you’re almost glad you looked. Because there’s a damp splotch on the front of her shorts, shades darker than the rest of the fabric. Right in the crevice between her thighs, where the inseam of those tight fucking shorts rests against her mound.

It must be sweat, you think. It has to be. But when you look at her face you notice how flushed she is. See the blotches of deep red that stain the skin on her neck, her cheeks, and you know it’s not sweat. She’s wet.

Your hands freeze in place, keeping her leg pinned to her chest.

Abby says your name quietly, and there’s something urgent in it – a panicked tone to her voice that makes your stomach tighten.

“Is this why you’ve been so distracted?” you ask. Your mouth is dry, lips chapped as you look between her face and that spot between her thighs. Back and forth, over and over. Your fingers tense against her thigh, and the skin there is so soft. “You’re…”

“I’m not,” she rushes, face almost entirely pink now.

“It’s okay,” you soothe quietly, thumb starting up a slow movement against her flesh. Soft, small circles. And you know you must look calm – but on the inside there’s a hot, wet feeling lashing out against the inside of your stomach. “Is that because of me? S’that why you’ve been so distracted in our sessions lately?”

Abby turns her face, tucking her chin into her shoulder in attempt to hide her blush. You lower her leg back onto the massage bed. “I don—I don’t know why I’m…”

“Abby,” you laugh softly. Your palm is flat against her thigh now, fingers twitching – itching to explore. “It’s okay.”

“I’m not…” she grimaces.

“Not what?” you hum, and you’re playing with the hem of her shorts now. Curling around the thin fabric, rubbing it between your fingertips. “Do you… will you let me help?”

Her eyes widen at the suggestion, and you feel the way her thighs tense beneath your touch. Pressing together, almost squirming at the thought of it. When she doesn’t respond, doesn’t say no, your fingers creep higher. They tuck around the waistband of her shorts and tug once, testing the waters. Again, she says nothing. Those heady blue eyes stare at your face, pink lips parting as her breathing grows heavier.

“Abby?” you urge.

“Yeah,” she breathes, and it sounds almost like a question.

Her eyes turn glassy as she watches you, and then her hips cant ever so slightly upward on the bed. An invitation.

Smiling, you peel the material of her shorts down slowly, but you don’t look. Not yet, not even as you drop the material onto the ground. Don’t look even when there’s so much white in your vision. A field of creamy skin, begging to be seen. Your thighs press together, skin hot, the muscles in your stomach tightening as you notice that she’s sweating again.

“I’m not gay,” Abby says then. So quiet, so cautious.

Your smile only grows, and you nod. Kind. Understanding. “I know,” you whisper. “I get it.” And you do.

You’ve been in her shoes before; confused, unsure. Young and always wondering why you felt so on edge around the pretty girls in those tight uniforms they liked to wear around the base. Always pretending you didn’t think about the way their clothes moulded against their chests, their thighs, as you lay in bed at night, hand stuffed inside your underwear. Never admitting to yourself that you wanted to see underneath – to see their skin; touch it, taste it.

“I get it,” you repeat, hand stilling at her hip. “But I need to hear you say you want it.”

You ruck up her shirt. Just a little, just so it rests above the dip of her belly button, and you can see the rolling hills of her abdomen. You admire the muscles there, the way they rise and fall with each laboured breath. Abs that lead to a hardened v-shape which only encourages wandering eyes to look down down down.

Her skin is pale, and you can see the elaborate network of blue veins that spread out beneath it like spiderwebs. Lifelines, pulsing with desire. For you.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” you offer, and she nods slowly, seemingly grateful for the assurance. “I’ll help you out… just have a little taste, okay?”

“Fuck,” she mutters, head tilting back against the bed. “Fuck, I didn’t realise you were—I want you to—yes.”

Finally, you look down at her underwear—heather grey with a tiny hole near the band and a dark wet patch on the front—and ask breathlessly, “When’s the last time you had sex?”

“I don’t know,” she exhales. “A few months maybe.”

“You’re so fucking wet,” you tsk under your breathe, shaking your head a little. You can see a soft thatch of curls peeking out the side of her underwear. Saliva pools in your mouth.

“When did you?” she asks.

“Last week.”

“With who?”

“Lyla,” you admit. Your hand is on her stomach now, tracing the indents of her muscles. Fingering every freckle painted across her skin, feeling the way her belly expands with every shuddering breath. “We’d had a few drinks. It wasn’t the first time.”

“Lyla?” Abby scoffs, eyes darting down to watch your fingers. “From the infirmary? Lyla’s not gay.”

“Sure,” you hum, a teasing lilt to your voice. “And neither are you, right?”

That shuts her up quick.

You climb onto the table slowly, careful not to jostle her legs too much. But they splay easily, spreading open for you to fit between. Murmuring gratefully, you look up to see her watching you.

“You do this with everyone you train?” she asks, voice breaking when your index finger snags against the band of her underwear. “Work them to the bone and then…”

“And then?” you smirk, eyebrows raised.

“And then fuck them?” she gasps. Her hands are tense by her sides, fingers curled around the edge of the table.

You bare your teeth at her and shake your head, slowly lowering until your lips meet the skin at her hip.

“Not all of them,” you breathe against her skin, marvelling at the way her frame trembles beneath you.

Unwilling to waste another second, you lick a stripe up the front of her underwear. Taste cotton and sweat and slick. Your touch is painfully light. So gentle that you wonder if she even felt it. But then she gasps – a sharp, breathy sound that has molten heat pooling between your own thighs, and you smile. Gotcha. Her legs lock up on either side of you.

“Relax,” you whisper, and settle a hand on her thigh. Rub slowly there, pressing your fingers in gently to release the strain in her muscles. “Do you want me to stop? I can stop if you don’t want this.”

“Please,” Abby says quietly. More desperate than you’ve ever heard her sound. “Do it, please.”

“I will,” you tell her. Smile reassuringly and squeeze her thigh.

When you finally get your mouth on her, no more barriers between your tongue and the wet cut of her cunt, you’re a little mean about it. You tease her clit. Tickle your tongue around it, underneath it, never quite touching, just showing that you know exactly where it is, exactly where she wants to be touched. You use your fingers to spread her open, pressing back her folds until you can see the full spread of her; pink and glistening for you.

The taste of her is salty and heady and soon enough you can’t help swiping the flat of your tongue against her clit, and revelling in the stuttered moan that swells out of her.

“Fuck,” she sighs. “Keep doing that.”

You roll your tongue against it in circles, side-to-side, changing up the rhythm whenever you fear she might have gotten used to the feeling. Spell out your name with the tip of your tongue, and then hers. Spell out words in your own language, one that you’re fluent in and want so desperately to teach her. Like this, your tongue on her clit, is a religion, and you’re a modest missionary sent to spread the gospel.

She makes the most gorgeous sounds. High pitched, breathy moans that burst out of her and have you wishing you could touch yourself. Just slip your fingers past the band of your panties, to where you know you'd be dripping-- No. Not yet, not now. This is about her, you remind yourself.

When you take her between your lips and suck, she cries out. A hoarse, rasping shout of your name that only makes you suck harder.

“Oh my god,” Abby mumbles, voice awed, surprised. “Oh—oh fuck, oh my god.”

Lowering your tongue, you press it against her weeping hole. Taste the slick that pools there, waiting for you to drink it down, and feel a moment of sympathy for her. You wonder if Owen ever touched her like this. If he ever made her feel this good. And as the muscles in her thighs tighten and one of her hands falls against the back of your head, fingers lacing through your hair, you know he didn’t.

“I think I’m gonna—” she gasps, hips bucking against your face. You can feel her slick on your chin, your cheeks, your nose. You lick her clit again in slow, firm circles. “Fuck, I think I’m gonna come.”

You press a finger inside of her, slowly stretching out her tight hole. Give her something to bear down on when she comes. And when she does come, it’s intense. Her fingers tighten in your hair, winding around the strands and tugging as she presses your face harder against her pussy. Your nose presses into the light curls on her mound and you groan, inhaling her sweet, musky scent.

“Fuuuck,” she gasps, the word catching in her throat. You open your eyes and watch the way her abdomen tightens, every muscle in her body going taut. Watch the way her eyes clamp shut, mouth hanging open as she gasps and moans and mumbles beneath her breath. “Fuck, don’t stop. Your tongue, oh my god don’t—please don’t stop.”

So you don’t stop. Abby’s still riding out the final ebbs of her orgasm when you push another finger inside of her. Her body jolts against the table, shaking and trembling beneath your hands and mouth. And then, tongue still moving gently, you curl your fingers inside of her. Press the tips of your middle and ring finger against that soft, spongy part deep inside and grin when she moans your name. You think it might be the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard – your name on her lips.

“You like that?” you mumble against her, the corners of your mouth twitching up.

“Yes,” she moans, hips bucking against your face. “God, yes.”

“Taste so fucking good,” you sigh, flattening your tongue to lick a broad stripe up her cunt. You can taste her come everywhere. Coating your chin, your lips, the inside of your nostrils. You groan, tongue moving faster against her clit now, desperate to see it happen again. She twitches into the table, and one of her hands falls to your shoulder. Blunt nails dig into the skin there, hot and piercing as she grinds against your mouth. “Tell me how it feels.”

“Fuck,” she cries out when you add a third finger. You moan, eyes rolling back at the way her walls stretch around you. So fucking tight.

Your fingers dig into her thigh. Silently pleading with her; tell me, tell me, tell me.

“So good,” Abby mumbles. “So—shit—so full, m’so full. Ohhh.”

There’s something hot pooling at the base of your spine. Want – curling against your insides, begging to be satiated.

You murmur that desire into her cunt. Inaudible; the words lost in the mess of her, in the quick glide of your tongue between her folds.

“What?” she gasps.

“Say my name,” you repeat, louder, pleading.

And she does – she’s perfect when she comes for you again. Strong back arching off the table, thighs tensing around your body as she chants your name. Her hands are strong, fingers no doubt leaving bruises where she grips your skin tight, holding your mouth against her pussy as she convulses.

She doesn’t let you pull away for a minute, maybe two. Holding your head between her legs as she grounds herself, chest heaving with heavy breaths. You swear you even feel her stroke the skin at the nape of your neck. Twist the hair there around her finger and tug gently. But then she’s letting you go – strong hands falling back to clasp against her lower stomach, and you’re stumbling off the table.

You hand her those shorts—those tiny fucking shorts—and smile. Can see the way uneasiness flits across her features as she drags them back up her legs, sparing a wary glance towards the door. Probably wondering if anyone heard her; if they heard the way she cried and moaned and gasped your name as she came undone against your face.

“It’s fine,” you reassure, only half-lying. “We weren’t that loud.”

But you can tell by the way she nods that she doesn’t quite believe you. That she’s still confused, still unsure, still wondering what this all means.

So you squeeze her shoulder, thumb pressing into the dip below her collarbone, and promise – “No one has to know.”

thank you for reading! x

maybe ill write another part to this where abby realises she wants to return the favour... idk we'll see

#middle finger and ring finger supremacy idgaf #my writing #fic: high strung #abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson smut #abby anderson wlw fanfiction #abby anderson fic

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