#I refuse to google him and his life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

norrizzandpia · 5 months

Note

Can you please write exes to lovers angst with lando

Y’all know the way to my heart with these angst requests

A Second Chance (LN4)

Summary: Secrets are a hard thing to live with, they always come out in the end. When it comes to Y/n and Lando, their loved ones struggle to understand what occurred between the two when both of them refuse to discuss it. What happened that night that warranted two people so in love to separate? What triggered Lando to become so violent, so hostile? Why is there a lone engagement ring lingering in Lando’s apartment when it’s meant to rest on Y/n’s finger? What’s happened?

Warnings: lots of fights, language, literal screaming matches, lando breaking y/n’s heart while he’s drunk, this ones hella rough when it comes to angst, whata rollercoaster, HAPPY ENDING THO YALL JUST BUCKLE UP FOR THE RIDE AND TRUST ME

Note: i decided to really play with y’all here because you don’t end up knowing what caused them to breakup until the very end, so enjoy 6,000 words of subtle hints and you on the edge of your seat bc I’m evil 😚

Some things were better left unsaid. That’s the mantra Lando repeated to himself every time he felt the urge to pick up the phone and pour his heart out to the girl he let get away.

Some things are better left unsaid.

He was sick of the words, wanting to rip them out of his mind, out of his mouth every time he uttered their syllables. His thumb laid so close to her phone number, he was frightened one wrong move would make the decision for him.

All he saw, not just in that moment but every moment, was her face as he spewed off words of anger, violent insults that held no truth to them.

He wanted to apologize, yearned to hear her breathing as he said the things he had rehearsed in the mirror for God knows how long. There was blood on his hands, her blood, the blood of her being when he killed her spirit and the character he had fallen in love with. He couldn’t live with that.

Couldn’t live with the knowledge he had destroyed the beauty of her happiness, the beauty of who she had been.

Selfish, maybe, but he called her anyway. Whether the apology was for her or for him, he wasn’t sure, he just needed to know she knew that he never meant for those things to tumble from his mouth. He never meant to tear her down when he had spent the entirety of their relationship building her up.

The ringing sounded, it blaring loudly in the quiet of his room. He stared at her contact photo, he never changed it. The picture was one his friend had taken of her as she gazed upon him at the Silverstone Grand Prix, when he got his podium. She was smiling up, looking at him as if he held her entire life right in the palm of his hands.

She had loved him, put her heart in his hands, and he had thrown it back in her face like he was disgusted by it.

His mind was taken back to the moment when, after one ring, the call went straight to voicemail.

Fuck it, he thought, I’ve already called her once.

So, he tried again.

One ring, then voicemail.

Again.

One ring, then voicemail.

Again.

One ring, then voicemail.

By the end of his calling spree, he was sitting up in his bed, the sheets falling down his toned chest as he stared at the brightness emitting from his phone. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he searched up why he was only getting one ring.

The answer that popped up stopped the world around him. He threw his phone down to the side, it falling harshly onto the floor. He stormed from his bed, ripping open his door and throwing on a random hoodie strewn about his couch. His eyes glazed over as he tied his shoes and left the apartment, beginning to run. His running was in vain, however, as he was only trying to run from the thing that got him into this situation. Himself.

The phone stayed behind, lingering on the floor with its screen cracked yet still displaying what had set Lando off in the first place.

The Google search engine painfully informed him of Y/n blocking him.

—

“How have you been since the breakup?” Max said softly, looking at his best friend with gentle eyes.

Lando looked down to his lap, “I’m doing fine. Getting by.”

Max’s quietness lingered like he knew something.

“What is it?” Lando asked spitefully, sick of feeling like his loved ones were tip toeing around him.

Max sighed, “You’re not sleeping.”

“How do you know that?”

“Life360 shows me where you’ve gone in the last twenty-four hours, Lando. It also gives me notifications when you leave your house. At first, I wanted to stay out of it, but you’re doing it every night, going to random parks and staying there for hours. What are you doing?”

Lando smacked his hand on the table out of frustration, strangers sat close to them glancing over suspiciously, “So, you’re monitoring me now?”

Max scoffed, “Yeah! Your family and your friends are worried for you.”

“Well, don’t.” Lando gave him a pointed look.

Max shoved his face into his hands, “It’s not that fucking easy, Lando. Everyone thought you two were going to get married. You had a ring. Then, all of a sudden, you two ended. The people that love you are obviously going to be wondering about you when shit like that comes out of left field.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Lando began, face heating up, “You don’t think I look at the engagement ring everyday and wonder where I would be today? Maybe engaged to her like I had always wanted? You don’t think I know this shit? You don’t think I have to live with it, sleep with it, exist with it?”

It dawns on Max as he listens to Lando’s every word, “You’re going for walks in the night? To get away from thinking about it when you’re trying to sleep? Trying to distract yourself?”

Lando’s eyes look down once more, “Running. I’ve been running.”

In a rare form of physical affection, Max leans over and lays his hand over his friend’s, “What happened that night?”

Lando flinches, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

His hand is heavy on top of Lando’s as he tries again, “Lando, I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand. What the fuck happened? When are you going to be comfortable talking about it? It’s been five months.”

Something fiery triggers within Lando and Max knows it’s the reminder of how long he’s gone without her, “I know how fucking long it’s been.”

At the gridded teeth and hostile tone, Max relents. He sits back in his chair just when Lando’s gaze is caught behind him. His head turns to see what’s got Lando and he’s met with a woman that looks identical to Y/n.

He breathes out, turning back around to tilt his head at his best friend. Max opens his mouth to say something, but Lando interrupts him by the loud screech of his chair being pushed away from him.

He watches in horror and disappointment as Lando walks over to the woman and begins flirting with her. That smile, which was once reserved only for Y/n, is now exploited to get one singular taste of something like her, however fleeting.

In no time, Lando’s trading numbers with her and returning to the table. He sees the way Max looks at him, an expression that makes him hate himself more, and picks up his things, “If you’re not going to support me, sit across from me and patronize me for everything that’s happened, then I’m fucking out.”

Max laughs in disbelief, “Lando, I don’t know what the fuck happened! Maybe if I did, I could actually help you instead of this fucked up coping mechanism you’ve developed of sleeping with women that look like her.”

Lando snarls at him, stomping off and out of the establishment, texting the new number he’d gained immediately and asking when they were free to come to his apartment.

Max watches him through the window, anger at him dissipating and worry taking over once more for the boy he used to know.

The waitress comes by and drops the check off, three digits staring back at Max.

—

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO INVITE HER!” Lando screams at Charlotte, nostrils flaring as he shoots daggers into her soul.

“WHAT’S THE FUCKING PROBLEM? CAN’T FUCKING FACE YOU EX OF EIGHT MONTHS?!” Charlotte yells.

Lando counters, “YOU KNOW I FEEL ABOUT HER! HOW I FELT ABOUT HER! I DON’T FUCKING WANT HER IN THE CROWD OF THE NEW CAR LAUNCH!”

Charlotte rolls her eyes, “WELL, GET OVER IT! IT’S HAPPENING!”

“I’M THE DRIVER, I RUN THE SHOW! I SAY SHE GETS TAKEN OFF THE INVITE, SHE GETS TAKEN OFF THE INVITE!”

“SHE’S ALREADY BEEN INVITED, DUMBASS! WE CAN’T RETRACT THE INVITATION NOW. IT WOULD LOOK BAD.”

“I DON’T CARE! FUCK, CHARLOTTE, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!” Spit flies from his mouth, his volume so loud it jostles the walls.

Charlotte, being the strong woman she was and fed up with Lando’s recent behavior, fires back, “IT’S NOT MY FAULT SHE’S ON THE AUTOMATIC INVITE LIST! YOU KNOW THIS! GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS!”

He lets out a loud grunt, turning around in the room like it’s closing in on him. He’s so in his mind as it suffocates him with memories of her, he steps toward the wall and almost puts his fist through it. However, right before his hand comes in contact, he hesitates.

He can feel Charlotte’s horrified eyes on him as he turns around, chest heaving from the unreleased anger. He can’t fully meet her stare, knowing it’ll break him further.

However, that doesn’t matter as she puts her hands on her hips and whispers, “Who even are you anymore?”

She slams the door on her way out and Lando can hear her lash out at his father, detailing how he needs to get his son in check if Lando wants any kind of continued future in F1. They go back and forth for a moment, Adam standing up for his son in a time where there’s no defending able to be done. His father reminds Charlotte of the relationship she’s cultivated with Lando, reminding her of how she once referred to him as her son, and she’s ready with her heartbreaking answer: he’s not the same person she once knew.

That gives Adam no room to fight back, silence overtaking the atmosphere for a moment before he’s entering the room. Lando sits on one of the many office room chairs, head hanging low as he picks at his fingernails.

Adam sits in the one closest to him, breathing slowly as he tries to gather what he wants to say.

“Lando, what happened that night?” He repeats, reminding him of the countless conversations they’ve had that started with that question and ended with Lando refusing to talk about it.

His son shakes his head, something dying inside Adam once more, “I told you. I’m not talking about it.”

A moment passes before Adam snaps, “Lando! I know you’re hurting and I’m so sorry. But, Jesus fucking Christ! You can’t go on like this forever! This isn’t healthy! She’s not coming back! She’s stopped communicating because she doesn’t want to hear from you! You’re going to need to move on sometime!”

Lando stands abruptly from his seat, his father’s words hitting him hard, “You have no fucking right to say that! You don’t know what’s going through her mind!”

Adam stands to get in his face, “No, but I do know you two were happy, she was happy, and you were in love, and then it was over! People don’t fall out of a love like that if someone didn’t fuck up royally!”

Lando moves to the door, “I don’t want to hear this anymore.”

Adam grabs his arm before he can leave, staring at him with a stone cold gaze, “You keep pushing people away, treating people like shit, and you’ll ruin your career.”

“Who said I even cared about my career anymore?”

—

As much as he hates it, Lando’s eyes immediately search for her once he and Oscar are let into the room. The new car sits under a drape, a crowd of people standing around it, and, even with all the exciting things around him, he looks for the greatest heartbreak of his life.

He wants to see how she is, see if her eyes are as sunken as his are, if her body is as thin as his. Yet, he fails to see her. He knows she’s here, having seen her acceptance of the invitation on the guest list.

He’s being pulled to the front of the room by PR members, their pushes making him stumble into Oscar’s side as he keeps his gaze locked on the sea of people in front of him.

Time goes by slowly, the ceremony moving easily with applause when Oscar and him roll back the material covering the racing car.

They’re in the midst of an interview, microphones held tightly in their hands as they converse with the reporter.

He’s still distracted, his eyes still searching throughout the party to see her, but he’s called back when Oscar nudges his shoulder, “Sorry, what?”

The reporter smiles, “You’ve just gone through a break up and it seems she’s here. Does that say you two ended on good terms?”

He cries of laughter in his head. The idea that they ended on good terms is the funniest thing he’s heard in a while.

He puts on his fake smile, though, nodding strongly like this isn’t a question that has broken his soul, “Yeah! Y/n and I still talk from time to time. She supports me and I support her.”

He feels as if Oscar is staring at him, as if the entire room is staring at him, as he lies through his teeth. Y/n and him haven’t spoken in a year, her having cut off all contact from the very beginning.

The interview continues, nonetheless, with the journalist accepting his answer without question.

Once they’re done, Lando feels sick. Sick of trying to salvage his image, sick of having to appear at these functions, sick of wanting her back and knowing she’ll never let him in again. He excuses himself quickly, mumbling about needing to use the restroom, before dashing off down an empty hallway and locking himself in a stall.

He sits on the toilet, racing suit falling over the edge of the porcelain bowl as he lays his head in his hands.

He breathes heavily, lungs not taking in enough air, and he feels as if the first tears are about to fall when the door opens and the conversation of two men floods through.

“They broke up, you know?” One of the men states as they begin looking at themselves in the mirror, Lando watching them through the cracks of his stall.

The other one nods, seemingly excited, “Yeah, I’ve never been happier. She’s so hot, we finally have a chance.”

Lando’s eyebrows furrowed together. Who are they talking about?

“I know, mate. I saw her tonight. I think she’s still here. You saw that orange dress she’s in? Hot as fuck. It really does justice to that body of hers.”

Lando grimaces at their words.

However, they continue, revealing more about their topic of conversation this time, “Yeah, one hundred percent. Y/n Y/l/n has never looked better. I saw her walk in and I was ready to fuck her instantly.”

The color drains from Lando’s face when her name slips past their lips, their previous words having an entirely different impact on him now. He sees red at their vulgar words, pulling himself from the stall and walking out with a dangerous, cold air to him.

The two men stop quickly, looking at each other in the mirror when Lando sidles up in between them. Beginning to wash his hands, he makes eye contact with both of them.

“Having a nice conversation here, boys?”

The two of them gulp, clearly nervous at the man’s presence. They say nothing, rather letting Lando continue.

“You know, we may not be together anymore, but that doesn’t mean she’ll get with you two. She has standards and, after being with her for five years, I can tell you: you two aren’t it. Keep dreaming, though, yeah? That’s how I got to where I am now, making millions of dollars a year and such.”

He waltzes out, throwing out the paper towel he had grabbed in the middle of his words and nodding at them.

Suddenly, as he stands in the quiet hallway, his demeanor has shifted. He feels lighter. Consciously, he doesn’t know why, but, subconsciously, he knows it’s because he just asserted his dominance over her, his possession. Reminding the two men of how long he was with her, how long he had her, a duration of time they’ll never see, mended his pain for a minute or two.

It comes back quickly, though, when he turns the corner and runs into the infamous papaya colored dress that had laid on the floor of his bedroom many times before. He halts, so does she, and for a moment, the two of them keep their eyes trained on the other’s clothes, not wanting to look up and face something they aren’t ready to face.

Although, cruelly, that moment inevitably comes and Lando’s breath is taken from his lungs at how radiant she stands before him. His eyes trail over her face, the tape that was once holding his heart together now ripping apart at the sight of her. She seems strong, looking at him in a removed manner, as if she truly isn’t there with him at the moment.

His hand hovers over her bicep, fingers tingling as they plead with him to touch her.

“Hi, Lando.” His name falling from her lips, sounding soft and warm, reminds him of why he knew her coming to this, seeing her, would ruin whatever kind of progress he had developed in the year they’d been apart.

His mouth opens, then closes, and he struggles to get words out as his mind races with all the things he wishes to say. Knowing everything he’s tried to tell her is not meant to be said in a place as open as this, he settles for, “Hi, Y/n.”

She smiles at him, completely different from the fury in her features the last time he saw her, and mumbles out, “How have you been?”

He takes a leap, “Been better.”

She ignores it, “Listen, I need to go to the bathroom, but it was nice seeing you!”

Y/n tries to slip past him, but he’s quick to grab her arm. Looking in her eyes as if he’s trying to show her the happy memories that now are too painful to remember, he speaks lowly, “Hear me out.”

She shakes her head, “No, Lando. I’ve been done with us for a year.”

“Have you?” He challenges her, staring down at her and willing her to try again.

She rolls her eyes, looking anywhere but him, “Yes.”

“Look at me.”

When she fails to do so, he shakes her arm lightly.

“Look at me.”

And when she does, he tilts his head, leaning down to hover his lips over hers, “Tell me we’re done. Look at me and tell me you don’t love me anymore.”

“That’s not fair.” She whispers, lips brushing against his.

“Why?”

“Because of what you did.”

He looks on at her, their eyes holding the other’s as they relive the moments of that night. They both know there’s no way for him to counter, no way to fight back or fight for when she throws that in his face. What he did to her, what he said to her, has tarnished the trust she gave to him.

He pulls back, breathing in deep when she rips her arm from his grasp and flees further down the hall.

Watching her disappear behind the door of the restroom, Lando curses himself.

Curses the alcohol, curses that night, curses his words, curses the love they had, curses the memories that won’t leave him alone.

Curses the existence of their relationship entirely.

—

Lando’s never felt confusion of this level before. He stares down at Paige’s, Y/n’s best friend, contact as it calls Lando’s phone.

He hesitantly answers, putting it to his ear slowly, and whispering, “Hello?”

“Lando?” Paige sounds concerned.

Lando shakes his head, attempting to wake himself from the sleep he had just been having, “What’s going on?”

“Y/n is so fucking wasted and, I have no clue what happened between you, but she keeps asking for you. She won’t stop drinking, won’t leave the club, until you get here. I didn’t want to call you, partially because of how late it is and partially because of what’s going on between you two, but, if I’m honest, I’m glad I have an excuse. I’m worried about my best friend and it started when you two broke up.”

By the end of her words, Lando’s already out of his bed and halfway out the door. His keys jingle in his hand as he continues to converse with her, “I’m on my way to pick her up. I’ll be there soon. Just try and keep the drinks out of her hands.”

Before he can hang up, the engine of his car revving to life, Paige interjects, “Lando, one more thing. You’re going to have to let Y/n sleep at your place. She moved out of her apartment a few months ago and has been sleeping on my couch while she finds a new place. But, we have other friends here and I can’t just leave them to make sure she gets into my house.”

Lando nods, “That’s fine, but why’d she move out? She loved it there.”

Paige sighs, “Because she couldn’t stand the fact that everywhere she turned, all she saw was you.”

—

Lando pulls up to the club, its lights bright and music loud as he spots Y/n and Paige waiting on the curb. He gets out, rushing over to them and not loving the way Y/n seems to be hunched over in pain.

Paige pawns her off into Lando’s arms, Y/n melting into them and clinging to him when he holds her softly.

Paige begins to walk back toward the entrance of the club, “Thank you, Lando! You were always someone I could count on to take care of her. Have fun and please, for the love of God, fix whatever is wrong between you.”

At that, she disappears back into the colorful lights and Lando is left with his girl.

She’s mumbling quiet things into his chest, words he can’t make out as he gently lowers her into the passenger seat of his McLaren. When he’s finished buckling her seatbelt and triple checking that she’s secure in the car, he pulls back, but not before she’s grasping his hand and looking up at him with weeping eyes, “I miss you.”

Three words he’s yearned to hear for so long and yet, now, he can’t take them seriously. She’s drunk, she’s blacked out, and she very clearly doesn’t know what she’s saying.

This isn’t real.

He knows that.

But, what if it is?

—

When they stumble through his threshold, Y/n bolts to the bathroom. He smiles softly at the way she still, even in her drunken mind, knows exactly the layout of his apartment. Retching emitted from the small room and he’s running over, kneeling down beside her as she empties her stomach into the toilet. His hand rubs up and down her back as the other holds her hair back, whispering sweet and soft words of love in her ear.

“It’s okay, Y/n. I’m right here.” Knowing she’ll wake up tomorrow and be disgusted by his presence makes the moment even more tender. He knows what will be lost tomorrow, he wants to savor it now.

Her hand moves from the toilet to grasp his shirt, the material hanging from his waist below her. It hurts to feel her touch, to know she seeks comfort in him, but it hurts even more to think of rejecting her, pushing her hand away. So, he lets it rest there, lets it seep into his skin and burn the area, marking it as her own and reminding him there will never be another girl as precious to him as her.

When she’s done, dry heaving the only thing sounding as she lays against the wall behind her, he sits with his legs crossed to the side. His hands rub her thighs as she recovers, and all he can do is stare at her. Her eyes are closed yet he can picture the exact color of them. He memorizes her nose, its upturn and freckles; he memorizes the Cupid’s bow of her lips, the feeling of the plush and soft skin tattooed on his; he memorizes the moles dotted across her neck and the cleavage of her boobs in her dress; he memorizes her arms, their warmth forever ingrained in his brain after Spa 2021 and she was the only thing he needed; he memorizes her legs, and her hands, her hair, the way her eyebrows are shaped, and jawline he’s wished to kiss again.

For it will be gone tomorrow.

—

He’s the first to wake up, thankfully. In case she woke up before him, he slept on the couch, her body taking up his bed for the night. He makes coffee with trembles in his hands as he awaits the moment she wakes up.

And when she does, she storms out of his bedroom, striding into the kitchen still in his t-shirt and sweatpants, the items he dressed her in the night before.

“WHY THE FUCK AM I HERE?” She screams at him, hands flailing at her sides as her cheeks redden with anger.

“You got drunk and wouldn’t leave the club until I came and got you, so Paige called me.” He responds calmly, knowing how uncomfortable she must be.

She scoffs, “AND I JUST COINCIDENTALLY HAD TO SLEEP HERE?!”

He shakes his head, “No, Y/n. Paige told me you had to sleep here because she still had to make sure the other girls got home safe. She didn’t have the time to get you back to her place herself.”

She quietens down, looking at him with a distant stare, “Did we fuck?”

He reels back, eyes bulging, “NO! YOU THINK I’D DO THAT WHEN YOU WERE WASTED AND IN THE MIDST OF WHAT WE’RE GOING THROUGH?”

“WE AREN’T GOING THROUGH ANYTHING, LANDO! WE ARE DONE!” She fires back.

“YEAH? THEN, WHY DO WE KEEP SEEING EACH OTHER?”

“I DON’T KNOW! IT’S NOT LIKE I’M ASKING FOR IT!”

Lando steps closer to her, taking a deep breath, “Last night, you told me you missed me. Is that true?”

“No.”

It hangs in the air, full of lies and deception.

“Yes, you do.”

She groans, “NO, I FUCKING DON’T! STOP TRYING TO HOLD ON TO SOMETHING I DON’T WANT ANYMORE!”

“WE WERE IN LOVE, Y/N! I KNOW YOU STILL LOVE ME IN THE WAY I DO!”

Her hands shoved at his chest, tears beginning to leak from her eyes, “THAT DOESN’T CHANGE WHAT YOU SAID TO ME!”

Unwillingly, Lando is taken back to the night that ruined it all. Refreshing his memory horrifically.

A YEAR EARLIER

Y/n chuckled as she threw Lando onto the couch, his drunken body landing in an awkward position.

“I’ll be right back, Lan. I’m just going to get you some water.”

He nodded, groaning at the swirling in his stomach. He heard her clank around in the kitchen, getting up and wandering off toward the sound.

When he reached her, he was very quickly overcome with desire and lust for his girlfriend. He stumbled over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her back to him. He began kissing her neck, spit and slobber coating the skin in an uncomfortable way.

Y/n dodged him, “Lan, baby, I love you, but you’re really wasted right now.”

He hummed, “It’s fine, Y/n.”

He tried to kiss her again, but she slid out from his hold, “No, Lando. Plus, I’m not in the mood.”

He reached out for her, but she moved too quickly for his drunken mind. He groaned in frustration, “Y/n!”

“Lando!” She gave right back, shaking her head at his antics as she continued to fill up his water.

When she gave him nothing as he stared at her expectantly, he said the first thing that came to his foggy mind, “Fine, I didn’t want to fuck you anyway.”

She giggled, not fully hearing what he was saying, “Sorry, what?”

“I said, I didn’t want to fuck you anyway. I’ll just go into my Instagram messages and find someone better, it’s whatever, don’t worry about it.”

He saw the way she slowly turned her head to him, “Lando, what are you say-”

He interrupted her, “Who do you think I should look out for? Someone with a bigger ass than yours? Or maybe with bigger boobs? How about skinnier? Or perhaps with a prettier face?”

She just stood and stared at him, the glass in her hands slowly slipping from her grip, “What the fuck?”

He laughed at her, “Come on, Y/n!” He pulled out his phone, waving it in her face, “Who should I look out for as a replacement for the girlfriend who won’t fucking do shit for me?”

Her hip popped out, his demeanor change blindsiding her, “Why are you saying these things?”

He huffed as he slurred, “Because you’re a fucking shit girlfriend! I’ve put up with it for years, your inadequacy to fulfill me! I’m fucking done. I’m over not being satisfied in everything we do. You aren’t attractive to me anymore, you aren’t funny anymore to me, you just don’t do it for me anymore. Someone, I know, can surely be better than you.”

His words were malicious and hot on his tongue as if he had been waiting to say them. The glass, like her heart, slipped from her hands and shattered at her feet. Shards littered the floor, cutting her bare feet, as Lando began laughing at her, “Oh, perfect! And, now, you can’t fucking hold a glass! Fucking pathetic.”

He waltzed out of the room, as if everything was fine and retreated to his room, slamming the door shut.

There, as she stood in the middle of a wet pool of glass, she cried.

Cried for the pain in her feet; cried for the man she loved; cried for the death of her confidence; and cried for the love that had just been ruined.

PRESENT TIME

Lando remembers waking up that next morning without her beside him, and being utterly confused. That was until he read the text message in which she reminded him of the things he said to her, informing him they were over, she wouldn’t look at his face ever again, and she was already on a plane away from Monaco, to not chase her.

He had never been given the chance to explain to her just how drunk he had been that night, how his words weren’t really his.

“I DIDN’T MEAN WHAT I SAID TO YOU!” He yelled in her face, trying desperately to get through to her.

“DRUNK WORDS ARE SOBER THOUGHTS, HUH?” She argued, hands pushing against his arms.

“ARE ROOFIED WORDS SOBER THOUGHTS?”

She stopped, taking a step back and staring at him. She was quiet, looking up at him with a newfound curiosity, “What?”

“I was drugged that night, Y/n.” He responded, finally allowing for the truth to come out.

Her eyes softened, looking up at him with the love he knew was within her. She walked back to him, closer this time, and wrapped her arms gently around his neck, “Are you okay?”

Testing boundaries, he laid his hands on her waist and when she didn’t protest, he leaned into her fully.

“When I woke up that morning, I had a really hard time reading your text. I got through it, but I couldn’t shake the fact that I genuinely felt like I couldn’t see. My vision was fucked. I got up, I wanted to go to the kitchen and drink some water, but my legs gave out under me and I fell to the floor. I struggled to walk, my head ached in a way I never knew was possible, and I puked all over the floor of my bedroom. I, obviously, knew something was seriously wrong, so I called Jon. He came and helped me into his car. I must’ve been pretty removed because he tells me, to this day, that I was mumbling things about you leaving me, shit I don’t remember ever saying. But, anyways, he drove me to the hospital and they did a shit ton of tests. The drug test, that’s how we found out I was drugged with Rohypnol, a roofie. They helped get it out of my system, but I was pretty fucked up for the next few days. And, then, when I truly came to about a week or so later, I realized the gravity of what happened between us, but, obviously, by that point, it was too late.”

His explanation left Y/n feeling slightly guilty. She had been with him that night, it was her job to make sure he was safe as she promised him she would be his designated driver, the sober one.

“Do you know who did it?” She asked to which he shook his head.

“No, I’m not sure. I don’t remember much from that night.”

He saw it in her eyes, “Y/n, don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. There’s no way you could’ve known.”

Her eyes watered, “But, I should’ve known what you were saying to me wasn’t you, or even drunk you. I shouldn’t have shut you out. I should’ve given you time to explain.”

He nodded his head to each side, “Maybe, but what I said to you was horrific. Of course, you left me.”

She separated herself from him, walking into the living room as she cried. He sat down next to her on the couch, her tears soaking the shirt she wore as she struggled to gain her breath.

He pulled her into him once more, “Y/n, it’s okay. Your actions are justified.”

She shook her head, “No, it’s not that. I mean, it sort of is, but it’s mostly the fact that I spent this past year thinking you never really loved me. What you said to me that night, I’ve never forgotten it and I just spent so much time berating myself for thinking, for five years, you loved me back. I degraded myself over something that was completely manipulated.”

He laid his head on hers as he nodded softly, “I’m so sorry. If it’s worth anything, I truly did love you all five years. I still love you. I never stopped loving you.”

She pulled back, hands on his chest as she stared at him, “I still love you even if those words still haunt me.”

“Don’t let them, please. The fact that they came out of my mouth is enough. Don’t let them have any kind of value. You were and are the love of my life. There’s no one like you, Y/n. No one who could be better suited for me. You are more than enough for me. You’ve satisfied me in every part of our relationship. What I said that night, it couldn’t be farther than the truth. I could never fall out of love with you ever. There is no one I want to take up the other part of my bed than you.”

She wiped her tears, “What about those girls you were seen with this past year?”

He shook his head, “Didn’t hold a candle to you. Not my finest moment, baby. I’m sorry for it.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize for trying to move on, I just want to make sure you’re in this with me.”

He threw his head back, “Of course, I am. I’ll always be all in if you are too.”

She lightly smiled at him, returning to her spot against his chest as he laid them back against the cushions.

They laid there with each other, in silence, until the afternoon. Something that was once broken, now whole. Something that was once destined to end, now beginning again. Something that was once messy and complicated, now clear. Something that was once mistrusted, now fully capable of any challenge.

Maybe Lando could put that engagement ring to use now.

#mclaren #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagines #mclaren formula 1 #lando norris edit #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando norris #lando norris x you

1K notes · View notes

gaysindistress · 2 months

Text

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Based on this ask that the lovely @navybrat817 got and jajfjejjdbd now I’ve got it bad for this man 🥺 he needs just as much love as our sweet Bucky 💕

He wants to be good for you.

He wants to be a good man for you.

He wants to be the man that you deserve.

That starts with leaving ‘Ghost’ on base. The one moment he can, he’s stripping off every layer of ‘Ghost’ and washing his sins away in the shower, scrubbing at the stains they leave. It burns his skin and leaves it red and irritated but he only stops when he’s clean and smells like the regulation soap. You hate it when he comes home not smelling like himself but he can put up with your pout if it means he comes home a good, honest man.

Only Price knows about you and the humble abode that you two share.

Only Price knows that you have two rambunctious dogs that drive you up the walls when Si isn’t home.

Only Price knows that you worry constantly about your Si when he’s working but refuse to text or call until he does.

“I don’t want to distract him,” you mumbled drunkenly against Price’s shoulder the last time they were home. “I know he’s your Ghost or whatever but he’s my Si and I…I couldn’t live with myself if my call distracted him.”

“Tell ya what lass,” Price muttered back into your hair as he watched Simon play with your dogs in the backyard, “I’ll call you when he’s safe and sound.”

“Oh John, that’s too much to ask…”

Price cuts you off, “honestly it’s not for you. He gets fussy when he doesn’t come back to a text from you. Won’t stop his whining until he hears your voice.”

You press a chaste kiss to his gruff cheek and settle back into his side with a smile when Simon stomps in, complaining about your “dickhead” dogs.

His love for you suffocates him some days.

His love for you consumes him some days.

His love for you fuels him to push through and come home every day.

There isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you and he does what he can to show you that. His childhood was rough. That’s a given. His adult life hasn’t been much better and he struggles. He doesn’t know how to express his emotions outside of legendary side eyes and sarcastic remarks but he tries for you.

“If anything happened to you, i would burn the world to get you back,” he tells you one late night as you lay together in bed. He was gone for close to a month and the first thing he did when he walked through your door was scoop you up and head for the bedroom. Silently he stripped the both of you, climbed into bed, and drug you into his chest. With his thick arms wrapped around you and equally strong legs entangled with yours, he nestled into your hair and breathed in every molecule of your being. He missed you but his love for you had felt like it was drowning him and he needed you to feel just how much it choked him

“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t mean that,” you say back although it’s muffled against his collarbone.

“Afterwards I’d bury myself beside you if it meant I could be close to you for eternity.”

The air in your lungs thinned and you damn near gasped at the closest thing to a love confession you’d ever gotten from him.

Trying to lighten the tension of it all, you’d joke about how that could even be possible if he burned the world. To which he replied with “I will find a way or I will make one.”

“Simon,” the syllables of his name are drawn out as you plead with him to do something. He smirks into the skin of your neck as he trails wet kisses down it.

“Yes, little one?”

#simon riley x female reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon Riley imagine #ghost x female reader #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost #ghost imagine

771 notes · View notes

bruciemilf · 1 year

Text

Crying because I imagined Damian quietly observing Bruce with the other birds, -- who surpassed his Baba in height, -- and taking in what he's seeing.

Bruce picks Dick up, brows tied with effort. He doesn't miss the wince.

A part of him wants to wake his older brother up and tell him to get himself upstairs, but Dick clings to their father tight. Damian realizes how mean that'd be.

" I'm fine,'' Jason does this a lot; Pretending. They're a family of actors, after all. Blood or not. " I'm not 10, I'm perfectly capable of walking out of this car by myself."

Bruce nods, " Okay."

"...My ankle hurts, actually."

Damian noticed, more sorrow than envy, that Jason holds Baba tighter than all of them. And that Bruce holds him back tenfold tighter. They love Gofham, -- but they'll never trust her again.

Tim and Cass are easier to work around. They both get piggyback rides. He doesn't miss Jason and Dick being upset about that.

But He also doesn't miss the blurry sadness in Tim's eyes when Bruce needs a minute of rest after, or that he's looking Baba in the eye instead of up at him.

He doesn't miss Cass' joy dulling slightly when Bruce can't quite toss her in the air as easily as he used to.

" What are you doing, Habibi? It's bed time. We have to call mama for the goodnight call."

Damian nods. He makes grabby hands, an embarrassing habit he picked up from Dick, but not one he's willing to kill off from his system because it makes Bruce grin.

" I'd like to talk to her alone for a minute."

"Of course. I'll be right back, honey."

Damian's bedroom window gives him a clear view over the moon.

He sees the bat signal shining across the ashy Gotham skyline. He knows Bruce won't be right back until morning time, brusied and beat.

Damian says goodnight to his mother. He refuses to give any updates on Baba's dating life. No, mother, he won't skin Vicki Vale alive.

Damian googles How to stay small before going to sleep in Bruce's bedroom, where he finds the others already sleeping there

#wahhhh #just thinking abt them #batdad #bruce wayne is a good dad #soft bruce wayne #soft batfamily #fluff #dc #dcu #dc comics #batfam #batfamily #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #tim drake

5K notes · View notes

ghoul-bonez · 10 months

Text

~I Love You, I Trust You, I See You~

(Ao’nung x Fem! Deaf! Sully! Reader)

Summary: When the Sullys moved to Awa’atlu Ao’nung thought they were weird, knew they were weird. He took a particular hatred towards the older Sully kids, Neteyam was the perfect little follower, Lo’ak was constantly in trouble, Kiri was always off in her own world, and you. Just you. You seemed to always ignore him and never talk, but what he didn’t know was it’s because you couldn’t hear him.

Word count: 4.4k

Author’s note: This is the longest oneshot I’ve written at 4.4k words and 9 1/2 google docs pages… Sign language will be normal font, and bold & italics will be spoken, although I try my best to show which is going on.

~Masterlist~

I Love You, I Trust You, I See You

When people thought of the Sully family many thought of your siblings. They thought of Lo’ak who was always a troublemaker, causing chaos everywhere he went. They thought of Kiri who seemed so in tune with her surroundings that she might as well be Eywa herself. They thought of Tuk who was the youngest, still enamored by everyday life. They thought of Neteyam, a strong leader who would someday take on the role of Olo’eyktan after your father.

They never thought of you.

You who always seemed to be in your own little world. You who never had any friends. You who never talked. You who always seemed so attentive to the world around you, yet had no desire to join it.

When you were born after your twin Neteyam, a spike of fear had run through everyone in the room when you began to cry, but no sound came out. They feared you may not be breathing right, you may need your airways cleared. They feared something was wrong, and that was true.

When your parents or siblings thought about your family, they thought about you. They thought about how funny you were, always cracking jokes when there was a chance. They thought about how kind you were, taking a moment to check on everyone daily. They thought about how different you were than most.

They thought about you. You who couldn’t hear.

You always seemed to be in your own world, and that drew many away from you, they didn’t want to be friends with someone who they didn’t think was paying attention to them, and to be fair you weren’t paying attention to people most of the time. You preferred to direct your attention to the world around you, always keeping an eye out as you couldn’t hear danger coming.

When you had been caught by Quaritch and his men you had panicked, more than everyone else at least. You didn’t know what was going on, you didn’t know what they were saying, your lip reading was not dependable, and definitely not in english.

When your siblings arms were bound you couldn’t keep yourself calm, now you had no way of communicating, they couldn’t translate for you. Tears streamed down your face, eyes closed as tight as possible to try to calm yourself by blocking out the outside world.

When you felt your captor’s grip on your release your eyes shot open, looking around at the damage around you, multiple avatars dead on the ground. Then you ran, you ran faster than ever before in the first direction you saw.

You ran and ran, eyes trained on everything around you, and when you ran into someone and they grabbed you again it was like a shock. You let out a scream, the first noise anyone had ever heard you make. A noise nobody was aware you could make.

You turned to dead weight in an attempt to get out of their grasp, panic coursing through you again as your eyes couldn’t come into focus. However, the person dropped to the ground with you, pulling your face towards them and holding it still as you tried to thrash. Then they blew air into your face, and you realized you were safe.

When you were younger you would throw temper tantrums, as children do, where you would close your eyes to refuse to listen to your parents. Not being able to see them meant no sign language, which meant no having to listen to them. However your father found one thing always worked, blowing air on your face. Your eyes would shoot open, highly offended with your mouth dropped open, before you would sign at him, “Your breath is gross.” in retaliation.

You had never been more relieved for your dad’s stupid way of getting you to listen. Your eyes finally came into focus and you calmed down seeing his face, but that calm quickly turned into crying, sobbing. You couldn’t help but let out all of the pent up emotion inside of you, but eventually you calmed down and were able to stand back up, staggering your way home with the rest of your family.

Some time later when your parents had been arguing in your family kelku you hadn’t been paying attention as your siblings were, all huddled against the wall. You had been lost in your own world once again, not wanting to know what was being said as you were still processing what had happened earlier. You didn’t need anything on top of that as you feared it would make your careful stack of emotions you had constructed come tumbling down.

They had come tumbling down though as your parents announced you were moving, leaving. Leaving everything you had ever known, your home, your grandmother, the forest you loved so much. You couldn’t help it as you cried again, being held by your mother this time.

However as you thought about it you weren’t that sad. You had always liked the water, everyone not having to hear underwater made you feel more included, more like you belonged, and you had heard the Metkayina used sign language. Maybe this would be a chance to make friends for the first time in your life. Maybe you would be able to talk to people for once, nobody at home taking the time to learn American Sign Language, as your father had called it, like your family had.

One thing you hadn't taken into account was that they used a different version of sign language, but that had become very apparent when you first jumped into the water with Tsireya, Ao’nung, and Rotxo. They used signs you had never seen before, ones you didn’t recognize. You couldn’t help but feel a little beaten down at dinner, staying quieter than usual, not signing as much.

Afterwards your dad had asked you to step outside, waving a hand towards you as he exited the marui.

He sat down on the pathway, and you knew he expected you to join him, so you did. You sat next to him with your feet dangling in the water, looking out towards the horizon, refusing to look at him so you didn't have to have a conversation.

That didn’t last long though as he poked you in the arm, causing you to look at him offended, mouth open and eyebrows raised. He took this as his chance to speak, “You okay, kid?” He signed.

You sighed deeply, fidgeting with your hands before signing, “I’m okay, dad.”

You could tell he didn’t believe you, lips pressed together in a thin line and eyebrows furrowed, “You’re less talkative. What’s wrong?” He signed, proving he didn’t think you were telling the truth.

A frown came to your face, feeling like it was permanently there after the past few days or so, but you continued, “I’m disappointed.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprise and confusion on his face, “About what?”

You looked away from his face, instead choosing to watch his hands, you didn’t want to see the pity on his face, “We don’t speak the same language. I can’t communicate. Everyone else can at least talk to each other.”

His face softened, but you didn’t see it, “It’ll be okay. You’re a fast learner, so you will learn their language quickly, then you can make friends. If anyone actually wants to be your friend.” He meant it playfully, and you saw him laugh, so jammed your elbow in his ribs.

Then the conversation was over, your mom poking her head out of the doorway and saying something to your dad. He just stood up and gave you a look like he was asking, “You good?” and you nodded, “Yes.” back in return.

After your father’s words of encouragement you decided to work harder, learn faster, determined to be able to communicate with the people around you, and a few weeks later you were excelling whereas your siblings were still struggling. They were caught up on the differences of Metkayina sign language versus ASL but you had grasped that there weren’t differences, or similarities, and you would just be learning from scratch.

Even though you were doing well at it, working your way towards being fluent, you were worried about talking to the people, mostly because of one person in particular, Ao’nung. It was as if Ao'nung was determined to ruin your siblings' lives, and yours, but you didn’t know that.

You had seen Ao’nung’s attempts to cause hell for your siblings, nagging at them, laughing at them, and even trying to start fights, with Lo’ak in particular. Him messing with your siblings made you frustrated, but you weren’t aware of the taunts meant to make you upset, and laughing that was meant to make you feel like a target coming towards you from a distance.

The bullying towards your siblings had become more and more frustrating and you had begun showing your anger at home, being rougher with things than usual, and not wanting to go outside of the shared family marui.

It had been peaceful while you and your mom had been working on dinner, but she noticed you seemed to be far off, handling the food with rougher hands, “Are you okay, (Y/n).” Neytiri signed as you placed another fish over the fire.

You rolled your eyes at her, upset she was even insinuating something was wrong. In reality there was, but you didn’t want to admit that, “Yes mama, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” She had asked back, concern on her face as she looked at you closely.

You signed, “Yes.” Trying to end the conversation, but you knew she would just keep pushing.

You saw your mom think for a moment, her face scrunching up in concentration, “Well I am not.”

You frowned more, once again feeling like it had always been there since you left the forest, “Not what?”

She was frowning too now, “I’m not sure you’re fine. I see you isolating yourself. Even from me and your father.” She grabbed your hands, squeezing them gently to show her love in a little way.

Tears welled in your eyes, frustrated tears, tears that came because with all the stress recently they were the only way your brain knew how to process, to cope.

You pulled your hands from hers to wipe at them, “I’m sorry.” was all you could say.

She wiped the tears falling down your face before saying, “Why?”

You sniffled, running your hands down your face before signing, “I see Lo’ak, Kiri, and Neteyam being picked on, and there is nothing I can do. I can’t stand up to the bullies. I can’t say anything.”

“Okay, well soon you will be able to say something. You are learning their sign language, yes? I’ve heard from your siblings you are out working them.” She smiled at you and you could really see how proud of you she was.

You couldn’t help but crack a little smile although tears still threatened to fall, “Yes, mama. I’m getting better, but I’m worried it will be too late though.”

“I’m sure you will do your best, my ‘ite.” She thought for a second, “Why don’t you go try to talk to these kids tomorrow?”

You sighed, you didn’t want to, but you knew your mom would nag you until you agreed, “Okay. Love you.”

She smiled lovingly at you, “Love you too.” before pulling you into a hug.

When tomorrow came you didn’t even want to leave your marui, but you found the strength to do so. You did some of the breathing exercises Tsireya had taught you to try to calm your nerves, and they worked for the most part, steadying you and clearing your head.

However as soon as you stepped outside your marui you regretted it, not wanting to do what you had promised to your mother, but you knew you had to eventually. Eventually, which meant you could fool around as long as you wanted beforehand, and so you decided to settle down for a quick nap on the beach.

When you laid down and closed your eyes you quickly and easily fell asleep. You were still tired from last night when you struggled to sleep from your anxious thoughts.

When the Sullys moved to Awa’atlu Ao’nung thought they were weird, knew they were weird. He took a particular hatred towards the older Sully kids, Neteyam was the perfect little follower, Lo’ak was constantly in trouble, Kiri was always off in her own world, and you. Just you. You seemed to always ignore him and never talk, but what he didn’t know was that it's because you couldn’t hear him.

Ao’nung tried to not let anything get to him, especially when it came to people he didn’t like, like the Sullys, but for some reason you, (Y/n) Sully, had peeved him more than anyone or anything else. He had grown tired of you ignoring him when he shouted or laughed at you, like you didn’t even notice he was there, tired of you flat out avoiding him sometimes as you scurried away when he tried to approach you.

Of course he knew why, he had the same intentions to bully you and make you feel unwanted in Awa’atlu as your siblings. Of course you didn’t want this so you spent most of your time avoiding him, but for some reason instead of him not caring about it, it made him want to get under your skin even more.

When the sun rose today he decided today was the day to act. Today he would confront you head on, face to face. He would make you notice him, and he would make you feel awful in the process. So he gathered his friends, his goons, and they set off to find you.

They first checked with Tsireya who was with the rest of your siblings, but you were nowhere to be found, they all insisted they hadn’t seen you. Then they combed the beach, going from one end to the other, and on the far end they found you peacefully asleep on the soft sand.

He couldn’t help but notice how cute you looked asleep and peaceful, but he quickly shook it off, shouting at you, “Wake up, freak!”

He was targeting your extra finger and the hair above your eyebrows, like he had your siblings because he knew that got to them, and hoped it would do the same to you.

When you didn’t stir he tried shouting again, assuming you were awake, but trying to act asleep to avoid him, “What is wrong with you? Do you not care or are you stupid avoiding me?”

His friends laughed at you when you still didn’t move, eyes not cracking open and your breathing staying the same, so he took the next step, trying something physical. He kicked sand up and over you and finally you stirred, sitting straight up and looking around for the source of the sand, and when you saw him your heart dropped, a lump forming in your throat.

“There we go, now you are paying attention.” He snickered.

You tried to read his lips, but he spoke too fast, and you just stayed silent. You cocked your head to the side, eyebrows drawn together in a look of confusion.

You hesitated for a second, but were about to sign something when he spoke again. “Do you not speak? A silent freak, interesting.” You still didn’t understand exactly what he was saying, but his friends all laughed at you, and although you couldn’t hear it it made you feel small.

“I’m sorry. I can not hear you.” You signed, using Metkayina sign language this time.

He scoffed, “I do not believe that. I think you just don’t want us to bother you, but here we are.” He laughed in your face.

“Please use your hands.” You tried to communicate, but they just wouldn’t listen to you.

“No.” He sneered, this you understood, one single word.

Your mouth dropped open, offense written all over it. You knew he was disrespectful, didn’t care about others feelings, but you would make him care, “I can not hear. I am deaf.”

He was about to retort against you again, but when he had been searching for you earlier that day Neteyam knew he meant trouble, so when he found you he stayed in the shadows, watching, but now Ao’nung had taken it too far.

He surged forwards, anger consuming him, “Step off bro. She can’t hear you.”

“Yeah that is what she just said.” He rolled his eyes, “I do not care though, it is better if she can not hear me. Means I can make fun of her without her knowing.” He signed the last part so you could understand.

You shrunk back, standing to hide behind Neteyam. You tugged on his arm, “It’s okay.” You signed.

“It’s not okay, (Y/n).” He rubbed a hand down his face, turning to Ao’nung, “You need to leave her alone.”

“Whatever.” Ao’nung scoffed before turning and walking away.

Now he knew why you seemed to ignore him, you just didn’t know he was talking to you. You were probably avoiding him because you didn’t know their sign language yet. He felt bad for some reason. He usually wouldn’t feel bad about his bullying but with you it felt different now knowing this.

He couldn’t show his feelings though, worried about his little group making fun of him, but he slowly started to back off of you, and your siblings some as well. Whenever one of his “friends” would ask why, he would reply something like “We can not make fun of a cripple.” and roll his eyes, still a jab at you, but less so.

At some point you became all that consumed his thoughts, on his mind at all times, and whenever he would see you with his sister, or your siblings, he would feel the need to insert himself into the conversation, but he always refrained. He wanted to talk to you, to apologize, but he feared judgment from his “friends” who are just as nasty as he was.

Eventually he couldn’t hold it in anymore, heading to your marui to ask to talk with you, in the way you would understand. When he knocked on the doorway of the family home Lo’ak was the first to notice him, glaring at him and nudging Neteyam in the side, directing his attention towards Ao’nung.

Neteyam stood before either of his parents even noticed the boy in the doorway, stalking over to him and dragging him down the pathway so they could talk, “What do you want?” He hissed out.

Ao’nung cleared his throat, but the words still came out small, nervous, “I came to apologize to (Y/n)...”

“No.” Was all Neteyam said before turning away and starting to walk back into the Sully family’s home.

Ao’nung grabbed his arm before he got too far away, “Please. Please let me talk to her.” He begged, something he didn’t like to do, but it was necessary.

Neteyam sighed, “Fine, but if you do anything I will chop your head off myself.” He threatened the boy, “I’ll go get her.”

It wasn’t long before you stepped out of the marui, a frown on your face and hands he could see shaking, “What do you want?” You signed, hands shaking with nerves.

“I came to say sorry.” He started off, “I’m sorry for bullying you, and your siblings. I promise I won’t do it any more.”

“And?” You asked, knowing there was more.

He looked nervous now, hands shaking as he signed, “I wanted to extend the offer of friendship.”

You looked shocked now, “You want to be friends with me?”

He nodded his head, smiling shyly, “Yes. Absolutely.”

You smiled this time, relieved he would be leaving your siblings alone, and excited to learn more about him, about what he was really like under the bad boy shell, “Okay, friend.”

He just nodded at you, “I have to go now. See you at lessons with Tsireya tomorrow?”

“Of course.” You responded.

When you entered the marui again everyone's eyes were on you, a light blush on your face, “I made a friend.” You smiled.

You could see your parents cheering and clapping for you, but your siblings' faces were unsure, you would have to reassure them later but for now you were all having a family night, playing games and handing out things you had made for each other with the new resources you were getting used to using. They were clunky and awkward, but you would get better, it reminded you of something, of someone.

As days passed into weeks you and Ao’nung had grown closer, him pretty much taking over your lessons, stealing you away from Tsireya who was sad to see you go, but happy for her brother for making a friend, a real friend, not one of his goons that tended to hover around him at all times. You had seemingly broken down his bad boy aesthetic and his goons had since left him, moving onto another leader to follow, still as nasty as ever.

You were grateful for him letting his walls down around you, allowing you to see him, and soon you did. You saw him as more than you ever had before. You couldn’t help but think about courting him, of trading little handmade gifts, and sharing little intimate moments of happiness throughout the day.

It seemed as if he wanted the same as he began bringing you gifts, starting as a little armband he made from you out of hard to find shells he had spent many hours trying to find, then it moved onto necklaces and bracelets. Each was more intricate than the last.

When this started you began to bring him things too, poorly made things because using dried seaweed and palm leaves were different from the materials of the jungle, but you managed. Even though they weren’t the best quality he proudly wore them, gladly accepting every gift you would give.

Everyone had noticed by now, the traded jewelry, the touches that lingered a little too long, and the longing looks when you weren’t together. What baffled people most however was not Ao’nung’s seemingly peaceful side coming out, but the fact that neither of you had officially come out and asked if you were courting.

You were courting, you both knew that, but Ao’nung wanted to put it into words, he wanted to make it official, but he felt the need to fix a couple things first, to get a couple blessings.

So he went to the person he thought would be easiest first, your mom. She had seen you two from afar and already had talked to you about it, encouraging you to pursue him and get what you wanted. She had said she was not Tsahík, but Eywa had shown her signs. So when Ao’nung asked she immediately gave him her blessing, knowing this was something not just he wanted, but something you wanted too.

Then he went to your dad. He was a fierce warrior who commanded respect, and Ao’nung tried his best to be respectful, carefully wording his proposal of courting his daughter. Of course Jake had been hesitant at first, but eventually he caved after Ao’nung had mentioned he already had Neytiri’s blessing.

Finally he went to Neteyam, your twin brother, your best friend since birth. Neteyam was adamantly against it, wanting nothing to do with Ao’nung, and wanting his sister to have nothing to do with him either. He was still on the edge of forgiving Ao’nung, swaying over a cliff where falling meant forgiving Ao’nung for his wrong doings, and when Ao’nung explained his love for you, his intentions to never hurt you and treat you with the respect you deserve Neteyam fell over the cliff, giving the Metkayina boy his blessing.

Once he had gotten their blessings he had invited you to the beach where he had first intentionally seeked you out. You were hesitant to go back there with him, but you gave in, trusting him wholeheartedly.

You love him. You trust him. You see him.

When you got there he pulled you to sit down with him, you both facing each other, and he signed, letting his heart out, letting his feelings show, “I am sorry for any times I have hurt you. I was an ass and a fool, and I wish I had never caused you upset or harm. I am sorry for bullying your siblings too, they did not deserve it, but I was scared by the new people and what they would bring. I now see I should have helped like my sister. I should have been making you feel at home here, not doing the opposite.”

“It’s okay. We’re past that.” You reassured him.

He nodded, continuing, “Now I see how special you are. I see how much you’ve changed me and my views on life. I am grateful for the person you have shaped me into. I am grateful I got the chance to make it up to you. I want to court you. Officially.”

You felt your heart swell, butterflies in your stomach, and you were sure it was showing on your face, “I would love that.”

You moved your hands carefully to cup his face, holding it there as you looked into his eyes, hoping he understood how grateful you were for him too, then you pulled him in, lips brushing against each other before they fully made contact. It was magical, unlike anything you had felt before, and you were happy it was him making you feel this way. So happy, so loved.

When you pulled apart he smiled widely at you, grabbing your hands and giving them a gentle but tight squeeze before using them to say, “I see you. I see you.”

You sign your thoughts from earlier, “I love you, I trust you, I see you.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just smiles, and pulls you back in for another kiss, and you feel at peace. You know he is yours, and you are his. You know he will never leave you, and you will never leave him. You know he loves you, and you love him. You know he sees you, and you see him.

Word Bank:

Olo’eyktan (Clan leader)

Kelku (Omatikaya homes)

Metkayina (Ocean Na’vi)

Marui (Metkayina homes)

‘Ite (Daughter)

Awa’atlu (Metkayina village)

Tsahík (Spiritual leader)

Eywa (Na’vi Goddess)

3K notes · View notes

yandere-wishes · 10 months

Text

Spider Bite Love

Synopsis: Miguel loves you, this you know. But neither the story nor the hero ever stops long enough to wonder if you love him too.

Warnings: Choking, Biting, Reader is from Miles' universe, Miguel is kinda a perfectionist. Yandere themes.

Author's note: Forgive the Spanish it's mostly found on Google. I took like four months of Spanish back in 7th grade and have retained exactly 0.1% of that knowledge.

💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙🕷💙

The future is procaine, all marble white and reflective crystal. Flying cars and a horizon that echoes soft tamed pastels. Nueva York can almost be described as beautiful. Almost.

If not for the technicalities and lies and the loss of total freedom.

If not for a fate that's been prewritten. Repeated across centuries and dimensions. So uncontrollable that it practically cultivates inferiority within your heart. An age-old tradition found in every child's tale about dashing heroes and harrowing villains.

If not for the looming uncomfortable, presence known as Miguel O'Hara who refuses to leave you alone.

Your lover.

Your hero.

Your Spider-man

Although he's not your Spider-Man. Not really. And you're not the love of his life. Not really. You're both just Look-alikes, cheap replicas from a corner dimension.

It's difficult to comprehend, pondering it encompasses you with an unruly headache. Galling and overpowering, not unlike your so-called "Lover".

To put it simply or rather to oversimplify. You are not meant to be here. You are from Earth-1610, at least you think you are. It's hard to tell since apparently from what you've gathered there was another (y/n). One who looked just like you, acted just like you, and was essentially you in every microscopic aspect. At least that's what Miguel says, and you've come to learn that he's not awfully good at telling the full truth.

She died or was killed. As is customary with every hero's first crush. Thus leaving Miguel without a lover or a prisoner. Depending on which iteration of the story you fancy.

Then Miles came along disrupting the canon and causing a dimension's wide spider hunt, with Miguel leading the charge. Somewhere along the lines, between chasing down Miles and barking orders at the other Superheroes his secret society was made of. He passes by your window. Caught a rogue glimpse and froze. He'd found you again, after all these years of believing that you were dead. Technically you were dead, his (y/n) was dead. But there was one here, another one, just as radiant and beautiful as his original lover had been. Miguel knew he had to have you. To take you back to his dimension. To complete his Canon.

Your dimension was doomed anyway.

So he wasn't really doing any harm.

You shuffle uncomfortably on the couch, attempting to readjust your position as to better gaze out the window at the porcelain city.

It's almost homogeneous to Miguel himself.

A perfect city with no room for cracks or mistakes.

A perfect hero who flawlessly preserves the multiverse.

They're both perfect you think as you steal your gaze from the skyline. Although sometimes perfect and pristine aren't always reflective of a person's inner workings. Miguel isn't exactly corrupted but he's far from innocent either. You - and the motley amount of fang marks spread across your body- are living proof of that.

His apartment is clean, spotless, all ceramic tiles and snowy furniture.

No room for faults or fallacy. His whole life is meant to be errorless. Just like the delicate spider-verse, he's all so keen on protecting.

The door chimes, a light buzz and a thud. It's hard to remember that this is technically the future. That trivial things such as keys and locks have long since been eradicated.

Miguel steps in, a bouquet of red and yellow roses grasped within his hand. He walks in as the door buzzes closed behind him. There's a docile look in his eyes as he spots you sitting on the couch. A repeated memory you realize and you wonder if his (y/n) use to wait for him to get back from Spider HQ, all patient and passive like a pretty doll awaiting her master.

"Para vos, mi querida" he mumbles, somehow apathetic and bashful all at the same time.

You reach for the flowers a practiced smile bearly tugging at your lips, your fingers curling around the bouquet, then you freeze eyes going wide.

There's blood on his claws again, pristine rudy red that drips to an invisible tempo. You wonder who he's killed this time. A canon divergent Spider-Man or Spider-Women. A villain running amuck across the city.

Or some regular civilian he was supposed to protect. A regular civilian who had some interaction with you on one of the rare times Miguel actually agreed to take you out. You wonder but you don't date ask.

His suit is unscratched -as it always is- His face is bruise-less, so it makes you think that your final hypothesis may just be the accurate one. Miguel's eyes narrow when notices your frozen hand.

"What's wrong," he asks a gruff edge in his voice, a warning.

One your mind begs you to obey.

"Who did you kill?" You ask eyes concentrated on the sharp blue razors that make him look more monster than superhero. Your fingers abandon the bouquet's base and return to your side. You try to force your eyes into a glare despite the unruly beating of your fearful heart.

One look from Miguel snuffs all that resistance out. One dark glare from eyes that can't choose if they wish to be red or blue. Human or hero. Human or monster. And you're back to cowering into the couch cushions.

"It doesn't matter" he all but barks, a supernatural chill encompasses the room. As he throws the bouquet down onto the ceramic floor. His lips pull back in a snarl, showcasing milky white fangs that gleam in the low lights.

"It does matter Miguel!" Your voice is raising, itching to scream to yell. To make him understand a fraction of your hatred

"You're supposed to be a hero, a savior, but all you ever do is act like a villain. You stole me from my home, you killed my universe's Spider-man, you destroyed my dimension! You're nothing more than a villain wearing a hero's mask."

There's a punchline to this, you're almost sure of it. Some storybook explanation as to why you decided to lash out at the most terrifying creature you've ever met. Maybe in the heat of the frigid moment, you forgot that he's no mere spider. He's a tarantula, bloodthirsty and savage, ready to attack when someone goes poking at him with a stick.

Miguel's fingers tighten around your throat, sharp claws digging into soft skin and delicate muscles. Pushing you further into the couch. Miguel's ears ring with the symphony of your gagging as he tightens his grasp. He thinks you're choking, suffocating, asphyxiating.

Good. With any luck, you'll be dead soon.

"Mocosa ingrata"

He's not sure if your death will be significant in any way. You're honestly too trivial to have any impact on things. If you hold a place in the canon of his timeline or yours, he's yet to find it.

Miguel hates oddities, things that disrupt the canon, selfish missteps that destroy entire dimensions. You're not quite an oddity per se, although everything in your timeline is broken. Dangling from a loose threat at the edge of a cliff. All because Miles Morales decided to be selfish and greedy and "change" what's been canon for longer than any "Spider-man" has been alive. Miles is a mistake. that whole universe is a mistake. It's bound to collapse on itself at any moment. So for the life of him, Miguel can't understand why you're so ungrateful. So desperate to reprimand him and belittle him when all he's doing is trying to save everyone.

He's failed once,

He's failed twice,

He refuses to fail for a third time.

It doesn't matter that you're some helpless civilian who was stuck in the wrong universe at the wrong time. All that matters is that you're (y/n), his (y/n). Every other Spiderman has their Gwen or their MJ. A dutiful lover, to return to when the night ends, when the fighting ends. When the ignorant sun finally decides to reawaken and cast the city in a temporary ray of peacefulness. Someone to love and cherish, to take their minds off of the dread and misery that runs amuck across their lives.

Peter Parker has his Mary Jane.

Miles Morales had his Gwen Stacy.

So why can't Miguel O'Hara have his (Y/n) (L/n)?

When Miguel looks back down at you, he notices your dark eyes. How the life is slowly fading from your body. He relents, pulling you forward and slamming you into the couch one last time before retracting his hand. He sits down next to your coughing body.

"I hate you" you manage to blurt out between desperate heaves. Trying to fill your lungs with as much oxygen as possible. You don't bother looking at him, you know he's mad. He's always mad when you refuse to act like his (y/n). When you poke holes at the perfect illusion he's created.

There's a brief pause. A second of tranquility. Before Miguel grabs your arm and pulls you onto his lap. His mouth parts. Fangs releasing and hovering above your jugular. His fangs pierce your vain, releasing his poison into your bloodstream. It's not lethal, at least not yet. Miguel prefers to think of it as a sedative for when you start to act up.

It soothes you, calms you into remembering your place. Your head lulls to the side, falling on his shoulder as your groggy eyes look up at him with a stare that he can almost trick himself into believing is loving, or some variant of the same emotion.

You're his, he knows that. You have to be. It's all he can tell himself as to stay sane. You'll understand someday. Realize you love him too.

After all every hero needs a lover.

3K notes · View notes

kyriethesquishysquid · 6 months

Text

Heard Through the Grapevine (König/Fem!Reader)

Summary: There were always crazy rumors whirling around military bases and KorTac was no different. König, in particular, was often the victim of the most vicious rumors. Despite knowing her opinion is unpopular, the lovely reader refuses to partake in spreading the lies and often stands up against them instead, all while trying to battle her growing feelings for the quiet colonel.

Word count: ~9K

A/N: Some use of Y/N. Reader’s description is left rather vague but there are details of her being short, chubby, and with hair long enough to pull back. Reader is aged between her mid-twenties to mid-thirties. While König has no exact canon age, in this fic he will be somewhere around 40 (an age range I’ve seen people come to match with his ranking as colonel). König has anxiety, reader has anxiety, we ALL have anxiety. Slightly possible medical inaccuracies- While I am a nurse, I am not an AP or Emergency Room nurse so I’ve never done stitches myself. I’m using my basic medical knowledge, what I’ve learned in classes, and Google. So please forgive any inaccuracies! As always, I've never played COD. No beta we die like Graves.

TW: Porn with minor plot. Romance and smut. Slight age gap (reader is somewhere around 5-15 years younger than König). Size kink, mild innocence kink(?) dom/sub themes, M!dom/F!sub, major power play, praise-degradation, accent/language kink, voice kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, and loottss of pet names (I’m a whore for pet names) in both German and English. Mentions of violence. Talk of blood, wounds, and stitching in a medical setting.

Simple Translations (Longer translations will be included next to their sentences!):

Scheiße - Shit

Kleines - Little one

Kätzchen - Kitten

Schätzchen - Sweetheart

Liebling - Darling/Love

“You can’t say he doesn’t terrify you!”

Your friend’s words scoffed through a mouth full of pizza made you grimace for multiple reasons, a shrug of your shoulders being your only answer as you dug back into your mashed potatoes.

“Seriously, Y/N?” Mark pressed harder with obvious disbelief.

“What?” you retorted sharply, “Is it so hard to believe I’m not scared of the colonel just because he’s a big guy?”

“Then what’s with the way you look at him?” your best friend, Lisa, added, unable to hide the coy smirk growing.

A heavy sigh left your lungs and you dropped your spoon onto your plate, directing a deadpan look at the both of them as you realized they were not going to drop the subject.

Damn her and her mischievous nature. She was the only one who knew even a little about your hidden feelings for König, having been spilled one late night under the stars after far too many drinks, and she hadn’t stopped giving you shit for it since. Thankfully, she was a good friend and didn’t air out your personal laundry to anybody; not even your other mutual friends. However, that didn’t stop her from teasing you at every turn possible. Like now. The whole topic was a stupid subject in your eyes, brought on by the recent rumors about König having decapitated a new recruit for looking at him wrong. Ridiculous, unbelievable, and yet people wouldn’t let it go. It made you feel a kinship for the big man. Though for different reasons, you’d been the subject of many rumors over your life, having been picked on and subjected to bullshit drama simply because of your weight. Perhaps that was the biggest trigger of it all, but the fact you truly liked König was certainly a major supporting factor.

“Colonel König is intimidating, yes, but most men are intimidating; save for the present company,” you shot back with a little grin, earning a scowl from said man, “Nonetheless, I’m not scared of him. He’s never raised his voice at me, nor given me a reason to believe those stupid fucking rumors people want to spread about him. He’s always treated me with respect, more than any of the other cocky bastards around here do really. Those stupid rumors come from people who are jealous of him, either his rank or his superior physical condition, OR from people who have nothing better to do with their downtime than come up with spooky stories.”

Your best friend’s eyes went owlish in shock, pulling the corners of your lips into a frown of frustration at her childish behavior, and you prodded her shin gently beneath the table.

“For fuck's sake, stop looking at me like that. You know I respect and even like the colonel, okay? So no matter what silly shit floats around, I’m not going to believe a word of it until the day I see these supposed cruel actions in person,” you sighed, then pled with her softly, “Just- Just drop it, please.”

When she didn’t respond, you felt a prickle of uncertainty send the hairs on the back of your neck on end. You tried to catch her gaze only to see it traveling off to your right before finally coming back your way with a nervous laugh.

“I- I didn’t realize it but… he was sitting behind you,” she murmured softly.

Spine snapping straight, you gaped at her in shock.

“No way, you’re joking, right?” you hissed.

The slow shake of her head made your heart fall into your guts, pounding heavily in your veins as you nervously turned in the direction she had looked, only to find him putting up his dirty dishes and exiting the room.

“Mother fucker!” you groaned, “So- So he heard all of that?!”

When she nodded, you were almost sure you were going to faint. You and König were on good terms as nurse and patient but that didn’t mean you wanted him to think (however correct it was) that you had some kind of crush on him with how adamantly you defended him.

Food suddenly didn’t seem so appetizing with the nerves buzzing in your stomach. Pushing your plate away, you got up from the table and quickly dismissed yourself with the excuse of paperwork piling up on your desk. It wasn’t a complete lie at least. Medical documentation was never-ending, especially in a military base with accident-prone soldiers. You only hoped you could make it back to the medical wing without running into the big man himself and making things more awkward.

Dumping your food, you shoved the plate into the dirty dish bin and rushed out into the hall. You were grateful to find the foot traffic minimal, allowing you to cross the base as quickly as your short legs could carry you. Your anxiety was already high enough with the worries of what König now thought; adding another unknown variable into the mix would spell certain disaster for your mental stability.

The instant you stepped foot into the medbay and found it empty, you shut and locked the office door before snagging up one of the throw pillows off the old beaten-up couch and screaming into said pillow with all of your might. You screamed and screamed, until your throat hurt and your heart pounded loud in your ears, until you felt that nervous buzz of panic fade from your skin and leave exhaustion behind.

“I’m gonna need a fucking drink tonight,” you sighed as you dropped into your computer chair, “She’s gonna owe me for this shit.”

With that last thought, you fell back into the monotonous routine of finishing up charts and notes from the day.

The next few hours passed quickly into days and days into weeks, time flying by in a blur as you buried yourself in your work and your patients in hopes of forgetting your troubles. You were both relieved and frustrated that you hadn’t seen the colonel at all during that time; relieved you wouldn’t have to deal with an awkward situation but frustrated because, despite the anxiety, you missed his presence. It wasn’t until Horangi assisted a hunched-over König into the office three weeks later that you realized he’d been gone on a mission during that time, a mission that had obviously gone askew. Immediately you jumped to your feet and ushered the duo over, prepared to balance the injured giant on his other side if necessary.

“What happened?” you demanded as Horangi helped König sit on the medical bed.

“Nothing serious,” König replied, letting out a hiss when Horangi jerked his hand away and none-too-gently removed the makeshift bandage from the bigger man’s side.

A shudder ran down your spine at the amount of drying blood shining against his tight black shirt and then you eyed the tear in the fabric. His pale flesh was covered in different states of drying blood but the bleeding of the visceral wound seemed to be, thankfully, stopped for the time being.

“Good god, not serious?!” you snapped in disbelief.

König had the gall to roll his eyes as you muttered to yourself about men being stupid and stubborn. As you leaned in closer to examine the gash, Horangi moved aside to give you room. Luckily, the cut looked relatively clean but the depth of it was concerning, with multiple layers of tissue peeking through the wound.

“Hey, I’m going to debrief with the general,” Horangi commented suddenly, “I’ll let him know you’re getting fixed up first.”

König gave a small nod in reply as the other operator left the room and you stepped back with a half-smile.

“I’m going to have to stitch that up. If you’re not comfortable with me doing it, I can call the doctor in but I have done them plenty before if-”

“Ja, I want you to do it,” he cut you off quickly.

That wasn’t a surprise. Nobody enjoyed having to call one of the docs in during the middle of the night unless it was for a dire emergency because they were all, understandably, cranky when woken.

“That’s fine,” you agreed, biting your lower lip before gesturing at him and adding, “I- I’ll need you to remove your shirt so I can get a better look and stitch you up.”

König let out a noise of understanding as you turned away to wash your hands and grab out all of the necessary equipment you’d need for the stitches. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t deep enough to have chanced any vital areas, especially since it was on his side, but there was no doubt it was still deep enough that it wouldn’t heal properly without treatment. How he was even upright and talking like normal was beyond you. You were just glad you had been an RN in the emergency room before transferring to KorTac, your time there invaluable for all the shit you’d had to put up with here between busy doctors and never-ending patients.

“Alrighty, let’s get this show on the… road”

As your gaze met bare, toned, skin, your brain immediately melted into nothingness. Gone were all the years of medical training and college; all that remained were the hormones of a bitch in heat. Never, in the entire year you’d worked with KorTac, had you ever seen him shirtless. He was hardly in here, between his elite skills and natural resilience against being hurt, and the only times he had been were generally for serious things that the doctor would have to take care of, or for routine visits that wouldn’t require him shirtless. So to say you were struck dumb was an understatement.

Logically, you had known König was fit. It was practically written in all of their contracts to stay in peak physical condition, and the compression shirts he wore did nothing to hide the defined muscles in his arms and stomach, but seeing him without the fabric was even more daunting than you had expected.

“Schätzchen?” he asked softly, voice full of something that sounded like concern.

His gloved fingers touching your face finally jerked you out of your entirely inappropriate fantasy of getting the chance to lick up and down his abdomen and you nearly squeaked in shock, barely concealing the noise by clearing your throat.

“Uh, sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me, uh, okay. Can you lie down for me, please? I’m sure you know this works but I’m gonna numb you up first. It’s probably going to sting,” you warned him.

Setting the equipment on the metal rolling table, you took the last terrifying steps toward him and it took everything in your power not to moan as you realized you were directly face to face with firm pecs until he finally sat. You managed to shake away the lustful thoughts on your own this time and pulled on gloves before grabbing up the syringe.

“Ready?” you asked, not daring to meet his eyes lest you get too flustered to work.

“Ja, go ahead,” he rumbled.

With a steadying breath, you carefully poked the needle into the top layers of the wound and pushed the plunger down slowly. You’d seen other soldiers cry over the pain of a lidocaine injection into an open wound, not that you could blame them, but, of course, König took it all without even flinching. The man really acted like he was made of stone. It was insane.

“That should kick in in just a few,” you murmured, capping the needle and placing it into the sharps container, “Wanna tell me what happened while we wait?”

Feeling safe back near the cabinets rather than within arms reach, you finally let your eyes find him and watched in disbelief as he sat up without even a wince, cool blue eyes clear and steady.

“Ah, nothing serious. There was one hidden upstairs and we didn’t realize it until- well, this,” he replied after a moment, gesturing to his side with a half-chuckle half-sigh.

A frown turned down your lips at that. God, you really had it lucky, sitting here in your cushy position as a nurse. Sure, the hours sucked, and seeing people hurt (or god forbid worse) really sucked, but at least your life was never in danger like theirs. You hated thinking about him getting hurt like this, no matter how silly it was since he could obviously take care of himself. Swallowing hard, you nodded and grabbed another fresh pair of gloves, snapping them on with a forced smile.

“Well, I’d hate to see the other guy then,” you teased softly.

It was a joke, and yet it wasn’t. You had no doubt his assailant hadn’t made it out of there in one piece.

“Let’s just say, not even a talented nurse such as yourself could help him when I was done with him,” he replied.

You couldn’t help but giggle at how his eyes crinkled beneath the faded black smudges, further conveying the amusement lacing his tone.

“I bet. I know I wouldn’t want to be your enemy, colonel,” you snickered, “Okay, lie down again for me please.”

König leaned back with a little groan and tucked his right hand behind his head, keeping the angle perfect to avoid stretching or squishing the skin around the wound. There was a comfortable silence as you readied the needle with thread in the driver. You gave him a testing tap around the wound, to which he quickly affirmed he felt nothing before you got to work. You quickly cleaned the area, put a clean drape around it, and then snagged up the needle. It had been a bit since you’d done sutures on such a wound but you quickly fell back into the familiar rhythm with simple interrupted stitches.

“You’re rather good at that,” he complimented quietly.

You felt your cheeks warm at the praise as you sent him a warm smile and replied, “Thank you. It’s nice to know I haven’t lost my touch since leaving the emergency department.”

“Oh? What made you decide to come here instead?”

Well, this was new. While König was always kind to you, it generally never went beyond small talk. You knew as much about him as he did you, though you couldn’t lie and say you were complaining about the change. That little fangirl you tried to hide so deep inside was dancing with elation over the fact that he was trying to keep a conversation going, but it wasn’t helping your little crush one bit.

“Honestly? Better pay and escape from a bad home situation,” you admitted honestly, “I just didn’t have a great environment to accel in and when my cousin mentioned joining you guys, it just made sense.”

Tying the last end into a square knot, you snipped off the extra thread and stood with a proud smile, examining your handiwork happily.

“Gotta say, you’re a model patient, colonel. I don’t wanna see you in here for this again though,” you playfully scolded.

As you turned away, you were startled by a sudden deep laugh. Not a chuckle or a snort, but a full-on belly laugh, and you were absolutely certain you’d never heard anything more beautiful.

“And here I was thinking about getting stabbed again just so I could see meine süße kleine krankenschwester.” (My sweet little nurse)

“Hey, no using languages I can’t understand,” you retorted with a giggle, ducking your face in hopes of hiding the way your cheeks flushed with lust at the sound of his mother tongue.

Why was that so sexy, hearing him speak German? Not that his speaking normally didn’t affect you but, when he fell into his old language, it just did something different. Another laugh rumbled from the man as you went about cleaning up the utensils and you had to grin. You knew, going forward, you’d do anything you could to hear that laugh again. A small glimmer of hope flickered to life in your chest as you ungloved and tossed them in the trash. Maybe this was the beginning of an actual friendship… or more.

As you scolded yourself over the lofty dreams, a presence against your back put a sudden stop to your motions, every last bit of you freezing in place except your heart which pounded valiantly in your veins.

“You- You shouldn’t- shouldn’t move around so much,” you whispered breathlessly as you tried to shake off the sudden nerves, “Don’t wanna rip your stitches out already.”

He was all but impossible to ignore, standing so close that you were certain you’d bump into him if you breathed too hard. Taking a small stabilizing breath, your eyes closed in frustration as you caught his scent, the faint smell of sweat, gunpowder, and something spiced, possibly a faded cologne or body wash overtaking your senses. It took all of your will to keep moving and cleaning up as if everything was normal. As you grabbed the antiseptic, you could visibly see the way your hands shook and mentally berated yourself. You were literally just sticking a needle into his side minutes ago. Why was this affecting you so much?!

You grabbed onto the counter for balance and lifted onto tiptoe only to have the bottle suddenly snagged from you and shelved in its spot just barely within your reach. It would have been completely fine, a nice gesture even, if it weren’t for the fact he had to lean against you to do it. With his free hand resting against your waist for balance, you could feel every- single- fucking- inch of his form against yours. Forbidden images of him taking you right there against the counter flooded your thoughts when you got a very personal feel of his dick against your lower back, completely prominent in its shape even while soft.

The fates were fucking testing you to the ends of your limits at that point.

“You should get a step stool, kleines, don’t want to hurt yourself,” he mused quietly.

A shaky nod was all you could manage, your fingers wrapping around the edge of the solid countertop and holding on for dear life. You couldn’t find it in you to reply with the mortifying lust clouding your mind. With your luck, instead of thanking him you’d ask to repay the favor with a blowjob.

Deep breaths. In and out. After a few moments, you knew you should respond. You had to do something to diffuse the situation because he was obviously content to let you stew in your thoughts.

“You- You- Uhm, you should go rest,” you stammered out after a moment.

And then he was gone. The instant he stepped away, you nearly dropped to the floor, your knees weak and back now startlingly cold. Tucking some hair behind your ear, you spun around and prepared to give him the usual medical spiel about resting and letting the wound heal, only to lose the ability to speak when a large hand cupped your jaw.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

His voice was soft, warm with a tinge of amusement dancing at the edges, and suddenly you remembered the stupid conversation you’d had with your friends in the canteen. Your tongue felt thick and immovable so you settled for shaking your head no, trying to convey that he, in fact, hadn’t scared you.

“No? No, what?” he asked.

Swallowing down the urge to moan, you shakily replied, “You don’t- didn’t scare me.”

Your plump cheeks burned hot at the way his icy blue eyes subtly changed, lids lowering into an indiscernible expression as his irises searched your face thoroughly.

“Are you sure? You’re suddenly much quieter, Schätzchen.”

A little curse escaped before you could catch it as you subconsciously melted into his hand when his thumb started stroking your jawline. The calloused texture rubbed deliciously against your soft skin and sent goosebumps down your arms.

“I-I’m sure,” you answered, voice barely audible even in the silent room, “Just… unexpected.”

When he leaned down and hovered just above your ear, you swore you were about to combust. He was close, too fucking close. Delectably within reach and yet so far away in the ways that mattered. Your thighs clenched together in search of some kind of relief when his scent infiltrated your senses again, the same as before but so much stronger, and you couldn’t help the way your stomach fluttered traitorously.

“That’s all, hmm?” he rumbled lowly.

Oh. That bastard! He knew what he was doing to you and he was teasing you about it! How was this the same quiet colonel that you practically had to bully into saying more than a few words just a couple of weeks prior? You lifted your hands and prepared to shove him away, to give him a piece of your mind, but he threw you another curveball with the sudden sensation of soft lips against your throat.

“Ah!”

This time, your gasp was loud, rivaled only by the pounding thump of your heart threatening to burst from your chest.

“I asked you a question, kleines, I expect an answer.”

A truly pathetic whine fell from your lips as your head fell to rest against his shoulder. How were you supposed to answer him?! Your tongue felt thick and immovable as you soaked in the sensation of his skin against yours.

“König, please, I don’t- I don’t understand what you want here,” you finally managed to croak through parted lips.

He let out a small hum but didn’t answer right away. His lips busied themselves trailing barely-there kisses up and down the side of your neck. When you felt his nose brush against your ear, you nearly jumped. Every touch threatened to make you come apart right then and there and it was quickly becoming too much.

“Is- Is this about what I said a few weeks ago?” you pushed for an answer.

Pausing in his thorough exploration of your flesh, he let out a little breath before humming back, “Mmhmm. Imagine my surprise when I heard you defending me, Schätzchen, heard you tell your little friends so certainly that you were not scared of me; that you even liked me.”

Your nails instinctively dug into his bare arms as you fought for your sanity, his teeth scraping your neck and raveling away what little sensibilities you had left.

“At first, I doubted what I heard,” he spoke as his hands took hold of your hips and squeezed softly, “You are so soft and sweet. Untouchable to someone like me. I’ve spent the last few weeks debating, agonizing over if you might feel what I felt. Tonight though, with the way you looked at me? I could finally see it.”

When he pulled back, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze again but he was quick to correct that with a little nudge.

“Still so shy.”

Your thoughts were running a thousand miles an hour; fear, lust, and disbelief were shouting at you in so many different ways that you thought you would pass out from overstimulation alone. While you’d thought about this happening almost every night since you’d first talked with him, you’d always assumed he would be a fantasy only. You never imagined the quiet, steadfast, colonel would ever have a mutual interest in you. Part of you wanted to drop to your knees and thank him for even touching you, while the other waited with panic-laced worries for him to announce that it was some kind of prank.

When his calloused fingers trailed up your face and into your hair to scrape your scalp, it was like he flipped a magical switch. Gone were the panicked thoughts, the uncertainties, and the insecurities. All that existed were the beautiful sensations he created.

“Does that feel good?” he asked.

You nodded dumbly and let your eyes flutter back open as you heard him laugh, flushing with desire as you were once more pinned with those gorgeous eyes of his.

“This isn’t some kind of joke, is it?” you finally questioned, managing to get somewhat of a grip on your psyche, “Because if it is, I’ll-”

A sharp sting through your scalp cut you off as he tightened his fingers in your hair, following your silence with disappointed tongue clicks.

“Do I really seem like the kind of man who would joke about something like this?”

You shook your head slowly, muttering a defeated little “No sir” in response. Your efforts were rewarded with the release of your hair, hand tenderly cupping the nape of your neck instead.

“I need to hear you say you want this before it goes any further,” he instructed you, firmly but gently.

As your lips parted, you hesitated. Of course, you wanted this, but here? Now? Your eyes darted nervously to the cracked door before catching his once more.

“I- I do but… König, anyone could come in and, god, you’re hurt and-”

You watched in awe, voice trailing off into silence, as he leaned in and pulled up his sniper hood, revealing a black gaiter which he promptly tugged down. The peek of a strong, square, jawline peppered with a short stubble made your eyes open wide in shock but your attention was quickly captured by his full lips, curled up into a smirk with a peek of sharp canines flashing through. Fuck, if only part of him was this gorgeous, you were afraid to see him completely bare.

“As I have said, it’s not serious, and you’ve so graciously patched me up,” he purred softly, eyes boring holes into your sole as his lips almost touched yours, “Now, tell me kleines, do- you- want- this?”

“Yes, god, ple-”

Fingers dug hard into your soft sides as he finally captured your mouth in a gentle kiss and you instinctively stretched up to meet him, hands sliding up to wrap around the back of his neck in an attempt to convey just how badly you wanted him. Words weren’t your forte but actions… actions you could manage.

A quiet groan escaped your lips as you felt his hips press against yours and hands came down to grab your ass. Your shock quickly turned into concern when you felt him start to lift you.

“König, no!” you scolded him as you wiggled out of his grasp.

The colonel had the gall to look confused by your rejection.

You gestured to his freshly sewn stitches and bit out, “I don’t care how much you say it’s fine. I refuse to be the reason you pop your stitches and I’d rather not have to put a needle in your again. Just…”

Your stern words trailed off as you saw the mild pink tinge across his upper cheeks. He was too adorable. Huffing out a low sigh, you rested your hands against his firm pecs and gently pushed him back toward the bed.

“Lay down, I’m shutting the door real quick.”

Thankfully, he didn’t bother arguing, just turned with an annoyed grunt as you shut and locked the door. The annoyance in his eyes dropped the instant you carefully climbed up onto the bed with him, letting him guide you to sit over his thighs comfortably.

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it in a way that you won’t get hurt,” you warned him.

“Verdammte Hölle,” he scoffed lowly, fingers digging into the plush softness of your thighs, “Fine, if you insist, just get over here.”

A gasp passed from your lips into his when he dragged you in closer and you felt the bulge of his cock already growing through his cargos. And what a fucking power rush that was, to know you were affecting one of the strongest men in existence. You! A short, chubby, nobody-famous nurse and this god-like man wanted you.

“Fuck,” you breathed out quietly, hands coming to rest on his chest as he guided your hips down against his, “König, I said-”

“You may be on top of me, but you are in no way in control, understood, Kätzchen?” he bit out huskily.

Your heart stammered in your chest but you managed a little nod in response. Apparently subdued by your acceptance, his hands spurred you into motion once more, tearing a broken moan from your chest as his hardness pressed deliciously against the apex of your thighs. Even though clothing, he was working you up entirely too easily.

He attacked your neck once more and growled out a terse, “Scheiße, I always knew you’d sound fucking beautiful like this. Mein kleines engel, so verdammt unschuldig und süß.” (My little angel, so fucking innocent and sweet)

While you had no idea what he said, it was clearly something sexual and you couldn’t help the way you shuddered. It was kind of funny. When you first met him, you’d been shocked by the pitch of his voice, having expected such a giant being to have a deep voice; and now… now you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Oh? Magst du es, wenn ich mit dir Deutsch spreche, mein dummes kleines Kätzchen?” (“Do you like when I speak German to you, my silly little kitten?”)

Instinctively, you ground down in search of relief as his voice filled your head and took over your thoughts.

He chuckled softly and murmured, “You do like it. I can feel the way your sweet little cunt throbs against me each time. Do you always react this way when I speak German around you?”

Your body froze at that, face heating and flushing down your chest as you finally understood what he was saying. No fucking way.

“You- You can feel it?” you asked meekly, hoping he’d say no.

“Mmhmm, Deine kleinen Zuckungen sind so süß- Ah, there is it again,” he teased, “So, kleines? Is it like that every time?” (Your little twitches are so cute)

With a frustrated groan, you quietly admitted it before ducking down to bite onto his shoulder. You felt a thrill of satisfaction when you felt his cock jump between your thighs but didn’t even stop to gloat, too enthralled by the taste of his skin. You didn’t dare leave marks, unsure of the protocol for his position, but gods you wanted to. Maybe another time, if you were given the chance. Scraping your teeth across his flesh, you scooted back to sit farther down his thighs and began to make your way down his collarbone and chest until you were able to gently bite the meatiest part of his pec.

“Ah, Scheiße!”

Before he could react further, you continued on and swiped your tongue across his nipple, earning a guttural moan and his fingers curled into the hair at the back of your head. For a moment, you questioned if he intended to stop you but, when he didn’t, you did it again. The little muffled curses he let out only worsened the mess in your panties and you had to restrain yourself from reaching down to ease the ache. It wasn’t until you were kneeling between his thighs and working at his belt that he finally stopped you.

“Kätzchen, just what do you intend to do?” he asked as you nibbled softly at the skin above his pants.

You let out a huff and rolled your eyes up at him.

“I intend to suck your cock, if that’s okay, colonel,” you shot back.

He mumbled something quietly under his breath then added louder, “While I would love that, I don’t know how much time we have.”

As you finally worked his belt open and began tugging his pants down, you couldn’t help but pout.

“That’s not fair. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” you whined.

The way his eyes rolled back and his hips arched made you grin.

“And I would love to see those beautiful lips wrapped around my dick, but another time, kleines. Right now, I need to be inside of you.”

Your cunt clenched instinctively at that, at the promise of another chance to touch him, and you finally relented with a sigh.

“Fine, fine, but you owe me later,” you replied, letting him pull you back over his lap.

With a chuckle, he pulled you into a kiss and mumbled, “Of course, Schätzchen. Anything you wish, whenever you wish- except for right now.”

A flush crossed your face, deep and hot, as his words settled into your chest. When he began tugging at your jeans, you helped slide them and your panties down until they were hooked around just one leg. You weren’t given much time to ruminate on the feeling of your bare flesh against the scratchy fabric of his pants before the sensation of calloused fingers sliding down your slit stole both your attention and breath.

“Ooh, look at you,” he crooned lowly, fingertips pushing between your lips and sliding back up until he found your clit, “So wet for me already.”

Worrying your lower lip, your forehead rested against his cheek and your nails dug into his shoulders as you nodded slowly. Of course, you were. Who wouldn’t be when Adonis was touching them? He moved slowly, gently, almost as if afraid to go faster. It felt good but it wasn’t enough.

“Ich wünschte, ich könnte jetzt meine Zunge in dieser heißen kleinen Muschi haben. Ich wette, du schmeckst himmlisch.” (I wish I could have my tongue in this hot little pussy right now. I bet you taste like heaven.)

“Ffff-Fuck!”

A broken whine escaped your lips when he finally slipped a lone finger into your core and it took everything within you not to collapse at that moment. One of his felt like two of yours but reached even deeper. You couldn’t resist rocking into his motions as he carefully worked you open.

You didn’t even get a chance to cover your mouth before he suddenly forced in a second one and curled them against your g-spot, a moan spilling from the big man beneath you as you mewled.

“More,” he demanded as his other hand tugged up his hood once more and smashed his mouth against yours, “Again.”

You didn’t stand a chance in hell at ignoring his commands with the way he began hooking his fingers in a constant come hither motion against your spongy patch of nerves. Tears burned in your eyes as you fought for breath against the onslaught of sensations plaguing your body. It’d been so long since you’d let anyone else touch you, relying on your own hand and toys for release, and fuck if it wasn’t overwhelming.

“König, ple-please!” you begged weakly, unable to keep from trembling against him as he brought you dangerously close to the edge.

For all his talk about not having time, he was surely taking his. His fingers felt incredible but you needed to feel his cock.

“Yes, Kätzchen?”

“Want you. Need you, please!”

His low moan was the only answer you needed, shaky hands diving down to work the waistband of his pants lower and tug at his boxer-briefs. You couldn’t even keep your eyes open to focus, too lost in the delirium of your approaching climax and the pleasure dancing along your skin.

When you finally pulled him free, you instantly shoved his hand away and shuffled up until his tip was kissing your entrance, but he halted your motions before you could do more.

“Don’t go too fast, alright? I don’t want you to get hurt,” he instructed you gently.

You barely managed to open your eyes enough to meet his and nodded hastily. Go slow. You could do that. And yet, when he finally allowed you to move, you were tempted to just slam down, no matter how massive he felt. However, your self-control prevailed, only held back by the reminder that he’d probably stop you if you got hurt.

It wasn’t until you started to lower yourself and you felt the fat head of his cock begin to split you open that you really understood why he’d been warning you, prickles of pain and pleasure dancing behind your clenched eyes as you sucked in a harsh breath. It didn’t matter that you were soaking wet and more than ready, your body was fighting to take each inch.

“That’s it, gutes Kätzchen, just like that,” he praised softly. (Good Kitten)

Finally, after what felt like forever, your hips settled down against his and you let out a little mewl of satisfaction.

“Jesus fuck,” you breathed out huskily, “This feels- Fuck, I can’t even describe it.”

“I know.”

His voice sounded as tightly wound as you felt. Every muscle in your body ached but none more than the throb of your core.

“Can- Can I move?” you asked.

“If you’re ready.”

Steading yourself with his broad shoulders, you lifted up and slowly dropped back down, nails digging into his skin as he touched every last inch inside of you. When your eyes fluttered open, your cheeks bloomed a deep red as you found him already staring at you with awe in his gaze. It would have been anxiety-inducing if it weren’t for the bruises his fingers were leaving on your hips and the quiet little grunts falling under his hood. Knowing he was watching you though, it was daunting and lit a flicker of doubt in your chest, demanding you do everything to make sure you looked and felt your best for him.

“Ah, wait, here,” he gasped suddenly, halting your motions as he tugged up your T-shirt.

You almost stopped him, wary of fully exposing any parts of you that you felt uncomfortable about, but he was too quick. He tucked the hem into the neckline of your shirt and instantly tugged down the cup of your bra, one hand wrapping around and lifting your breast while the other hand palmed your back and jerked you forward until he could wrap his lips around your nipple with a heady groan.

“Fuck, König!” you whimpered, shocks of bliss making you pulse around his cock.

His moan was loud against your flesh as his hand left your back and guided your hips into motion once more, the dual stimulation enough to make you shudder. Bit by bit, you were able to work up to a faster pace, until pleasure started to take hold of your mind and you lost all sense of rhythm, more focused on coming than putting on a good show.

“Ohgodohgod ohmygod!”

A heavy growl vibrated against your skin as he grunted out between kisses, “Oh Gott, das ist es Kätzchen, kommst du mich holen?” (Oh god, that’s it kitten, are you going to come for me?)

You buried your frantic cries into your palm as you felt tears begin to fall. It was too good, too much, and you fucking loved it. The burn of his cock stretching your walls brought you so close to the edge that it hurt, each thrust making your clit throb with need. You managed a panicked, muffled, plea and were rewarded with teeth sinking into your flesh and a calloused thumb on your sensitive nub, tearing a hellish screech from your lips as you were instantly pushed over the edge. Your hand barely contained the frantic moans pouring from your throat as he pushed you through the crest. Every swipe of his thumb and thrust of his cock brought on another wave of pleasure, again and again until you lost the ability to do more than exist.

With an audible pop, he pulled back from your abused skin and relaxed back against the bed, moans starting to rival yours in volume as his hands took hold of your hips and his knees bent under you. When he started thrusting up to meet each bounce of your hips, the fog finally took over completely. Leaning back enough to wrap your hands around his forearms, you gave over that last bit of control and just followed his lead. The sound of your ass meeting his thighs became louder, faster, in the quiet room; a lewd soundtrack coupled with the squeaks of the medical bed and your unstifled noises of pleasure.

“Mein gott. Look at that face. Not a single thought going through that sweet little head of yours, is there?” he groaned, chuckling when you suddenly leaned forward and buried your face in his neck with a meek hum, “No, no, don’t be embarrassed, kleines. It’s a compliment to have such an intelligent woman so brainless from my cock.”

You instinctively clenched around him and nuzzled further into his neck out of mortification. God, that shouldn’t be hot! You shouldn’t like that and yet you do. How did he manage to weave together such sexual praises into something that sounded like genuinely sweet compliments?

“Sit back up, now,” he commanded sternly, “I want to see that beautiful face when I come.”

The change in position instantly put your senses back on edge, the press of his cock against your sweet spot all too tantalizingly perfect as he muttered gentle praises and led you back into rhythm, words slowly dissolving into the most unholy whimpers and grunts you’d ever heard. It wasn’t long until you couldn’t make out a single thing he said, English long evolved into German between frantic moans of your name.

Suddenly his grip became overwhelmingly painful and you let out a squeal of panic, but the pressure was easily forgotten in favor of bliss as he began to thrust into you violently. It was almost as if he were trying to fuck himself into your cervix, a scary thought knowing he had the length to do so, but every attempt you made to lift off of him and create space was thwarted by his superior strength. And gods, if that didn’t do the dirtiest things to you. Even when he released one hip, he was powerful enough to keep you in place with just one hand, the other suddenly reappearing between your thighs.

“Oh- Oh god, yes, König, just-”

All it took was a few circles around your sensitive clit before you were thrown over the edge once more with a scream. Wave after wave rocked through your body as you rode him hard, thighs shaking and heart pounding as you scratched at him and cried his name all too loudly.

“Oh Scheiße, ich werde kommen, bitte, nicht aufhören, nicht aufhören, bitte, bitte, bitte!” (Oh shit, I'm gonna come, please, don't stop, don't stop, please please please!)

Even in German, his message was clear. Fighting through your own hazy pleasure, you tightened your thighs and clenched around his cock eagerly, whimpering his name and pleading with him to come. You weren’t given any warning as he suddenly grabbed your neck and jerked you down into a ravenous kiss, a mixture of high-pitched keening and growling moans pouring into your mouth like oxygen when he buried himself one last time to the hilt.

Tremors ran through your being as you felt his cock twitching, heat filling you with each pulse, and you couldn’t help the tears suddenly building in your eyes again.

“Holy fuck,” you whined against his lips.

When you clenched around him again and tried to move your hips, he put a stop to it immediately, arms wrapping around you and trapping your body to his.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed darkly, “You start that andI won’t want to stop, and we definitely don’t have time for that.”

A little grin crossed your lips as you melted into his hold and murmured, “Aye, aye, colonel.”

His little snort of a laugh jostled you against his frame only for him to still and hold you tighter. You turned to rest your ear against his chest and listened to the steady heavy beat of his heart while your fingers trailed up and down his arms.

“That was okay, right?” he asked after a moment, the uncertainty surprising.

It took some effort to get him to let you go but you managed to finally sit up, hands slowly pushing up the edges of his mask to just until his lips were visible again, and you kissed him softly.

“Better than I’ve imagined,” you whispered softly.

He tensed for a moment before a little huff of a laugh puffed across your lips.

“You’ve imagined this?” he asked back.

Chewing your lower lip as you lifted again, you gave a shrug and replied, “Yeah, a lot, if I’m being honest. As you heard, you’re an intimidating man, colonel, but really, it only adds to your appeal.”

It felt weird to be so openly blunt about your attraction to him but you supposed you were past the point of second-guessing things. His eyes searched your face intently for just a moment before he smiled, a warm, heart-pounding expression that made your knees weak. Fuck, maybe he hid his face for that reason. It wouldn’t do to have everyone tripping over themselves at his beauty.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he murmured softly, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, “As much as I want to hold you longer, I’m afraid we should get decent before someone comes along and-”

“Fuck, yeah, you’re right!” you gasped, eyes darting to the door instinctively as you clambered off the bed.

The moment you released your hold on him, your knees tried to give out but he was quick to give you a balancing hand. You thanked him quietly as you fixed yourself quickly- Well, as quickly as you could when your legs felt like jelly and your head was still spinning. When you were finally all dressed, he was carefully sliding his shirt back on.

“Wait, let me make sure we didn’t tear anything loose.”

He gave you a look that told you how ridiculous he thought you were being, but he humored you with a sigh after a moment. Leaning in, you looked over the stitches and were happy to find everything still intact.

“Good to go! Thank goodness,” you sighed happily, then flushed as you looked up at him, “Uh, you’ll have to come back in seven to ten days to get the stitches removed, which I’m sure you know. Other than that, just take it easy. Any damage you do will only prolong how long you’ll have to be on light duty.”

“I see, and if I need assistance with any in the meantime? I can come to you?” he teased, eyes crinkling warmly at the edges.

Unable to hold in your grin, you replied, “Always. I’d be glad to help with anything you need, colonel. Just come find me.”

You tossed him a coy smile before making your way to the door, only to get spun and pushed up against the wood without warning. One big hand cupped your neck and forced your head up as he leaned in and kissed you, soft and light in a way that made your toes curl.

“Sorry, needed one more,” he purred softly, chuckling as your face went hot.

“Get out of here before I make up a reason to keep you here overnight,” you bit out teasingly.

He gave you a mock salute before releasing you and allowing you to open the door. His gaze became soft once more when he studied you as you leaned against the door frame.

“I’ll see you again soon. Have sweet dreams, Kätzchen.”

“You too, König.”

When he finally walked away down the hall, you couldn’t help but watch him go. God, that man had the most perfect ass, and don’t even get started on that broad back. Biting back the flare of lust threatening to rekindle in your stomach, you ducked back into the office and ran a hand through your now-tangled locks, letting out a low sigh. The clock on the wall read two thirty in the morning, which meant you thirty minutes to get König’s chart typed up and then you could finally head home for the night. Thoughts of a hot shower and your soft bed had you groaning. Yeah, you were definitely going to sleep good tonight.

…

“Sooo, how was your weekend?” Lisa asked, eyebrows jumping up and down in anticipation as you slid into the seat opposite her and Mark.

You simply threw her a nonplussed look, not daring to give her any inclination. Lisa was good about keeping your feelings secret but you weren’t sure she could contain herself in public if you told her about what had happened with König, not to mention you didn’t want to chance him getting some sort of backlash if the fraternization rules applied to you. You’d have to do some research on that later if you two were going to meet up again at some point. Logically, seeing as you were contracted as a nurse and not as a solider, you hoped that you were outside of those rules but you weren’t certain.

“It was fine. Nothing too crazy,” you lied seamlessly.

She seemed to deflate at that.

“Really? When I saw the colonel was back I had hoped…”

“Well, you hoped wrong,” you replied blandly, “I saw him but nothing happened. It’s fine, really. Probably for the best to maintain that professional boundary.”

A body collapsing onto the bench beside you made you jump and nearly spill your food until you caught it at the last second, your heart racing from the shock until you saw it was one of Mark’s buddies at your side.

“Hey, Ian,” Mark greeted, “What’s up?”

He was obviously as confused about his friend’s appearance as you were, but your confusion didn’t last long when he suddenly turned to face you.

“So, I heard from a little birdie that you were single right now. Is that true?” Ian pressed, lips quirking up into a grin.

You shot a deadly look at Mark, earning a silent apology as his face heated, before you addressed the private next to you.

“I am but-”

“Great! You should come out with me Friday night! I have a weekend pass and I need a pretty lady to take with me to the city!”

Well, shit. You knew nothing about Ian. You hoped he was a decent guy and wouldn’t be upset over you rejecting him since he was Mark’s friend but men were tricky. How were you supposed to turn him down without hurting or angering him? As your lips parted to answer, a massive hand suddenly slid around your throat and silenced you. Eyes wide in fear, you let out a shocked whimper and froze in place, only to catch the familiar scent of a warm cologne as a hard body pressed against your back.

“There you are, liebling, I’ve been searching all over for you.”

König. Oh. Fuck. Tilting your head back at his insistence, you let your eyes meet his icy blues, obviously crinkled in joy. When his fingers tightened around your throat, you couldn’t help the way your face flushed in delight, your entire body warming with insatiable need as he descended and planted a loud smacking kiss on your forehead.

“Come now, I’ve brought lunch for us.”

The entire table was silent during the exchange and you could practically feel Lisa vibrating in her seat, but you didn’t dare look away from him to address her. Nodding once, you rose to your feet where he finally released your throat. He interlaced his fingers with yours and you instinctively scooted closer, enjoying the body heat and comfort he put off.

“I’ll uh- I’ll see you guys later,” you threw back as he led you out of the canteen.

The walk was quiet as he dragged you through the halls until he finally stopped at his office. With a little murmur, König opened the door and ushered you in first. The moment the door slammed shut, you were unceremoniously shoved against it, a little oomph escaping your lips at the impact. A weak moan left your lips as you felt his breath against your ear.

“Ungezogenes kleines Kätzchen,” he purred huskily “From now on, you will let it be known that you’re with me, got it?” (Naughty little kitten)

You hesitated before nodding and replied, “Y-Yes sir. I wasn't sure- I didn’t know what-”

“Shh, shh, I know, schatz. It is not your fault. I didn’t make my intentions quite clear. You belong to me now.”

A shudder ran down your spine, forcing a moan low in your throat as you practically preened under his possessive claim. Despite the threatening tone, you felt no fear. If anything, it turned you on more than ever.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now get on my desk,” he instructed.

Your confused glance was met with a smirk and a wink as he pulled away.

“I prefer to have my dessert first, Kätzchen. We can eat lunch after.”

#könig #könig x reader #cod smut #cod fanfic #könig smut #könig cod #könig fanfiction #smut #cod x reader #konig cod

784 notes · View notes

boxboxlewis · 2 months

Text

Daniel finds out about Max’s divorce from a Google alert.

“FORMER F1 CHAMPION NEWLY SINGLE, SEEN HITTING THE BARS IN MONACO.” Journalistic excellence from the Daily Mail, as always. But when actual newspapers start reporting on it, Daniel decides to reach out. He texts Max a cat meme. Subtext: sorry about your failed relationship, also I know you like cats. Max texts back Are you trying to cheer me up, and then 😂. It’s unclear if he’s 😂 at the cat or the notion of Daniel attempting to comfort. While Daniel is trying to figure this out a third text comes in. Stop reading stupid shit by dumb assholes who don’t know anything.

Nah it’s all good, I can’t read, Daniel replies. He hesitates, and then adds I am like. Sorry about stuff with kelly or whatever though.

Max thumbs-up reacts the message, and doesn’t reply.

Daniel figures Max’ll probably just start dating another exquisitely beautiful, exquisitely groomed woman with a disconcerting resemblance to his own mother. They’re ten a penny in Monaco, where Max still for some reason lives.

He’s not prepared for the next tranche of articles his Google Alert brings him. “MAX VERSTAPPEN SEEN LEAVING GAY BAR.” “VERSTAPPEN REFUSES TO ADDRESS RUMOURS.” “VETTEL COMES TO VERSTAPPEN’S DEFENCE: ‘HE HAS A RIGHT TO A PRIVATE LIFE.’” Like… people go to gay bars sometimes, even if they’re straight. But do straight people let Seb Vettel defend their honour in the media?

Daniel opens his text thread with Max and types Hey, are you. You know.

He deletes it, obviously. He’s got a lot going on in his own life. Brand ambassadorships out the ass, his film production company, his vineyard. He sends Max another dumb meme and calls it good. Max is just doing Max stuff. It’s some belated F1 champion rumspringa, probably, because when he was an actual teenager he was psychotically focussed on racing. He’ll settle down soon enough.

Daniel really isn’t expecting him to announce live on Dutch television that he has a boyfriend. The clip is in Dutch, obviously, but someone has added English captions, and Daniel watches over and over again. RIP his YouTube algorithm. It’s some daytime talk show, the kind of thing Max hates, the kind of thing he’d never do unless someone was twisting his arm about it. The host asks all sickly sweet if there’s a special someone in Max’s life. Max says, “Well yes of course there is my boyfriend.” The “of course” in Dutch sounds like naturally. Naturally, naturally. “And my family I am very close to, as well.” The camera dwells with voyeuristic glee on the talkshow host’s face as she tries and fails to pick her expression up from the floor. “Your boyfriend?” she manages. Max nods, impatient. Daniel rewinds the clip. Your boyfriend? Your boyfriend? Your boyfriend?

Daniel decides to visit Monaco. Not because of Max. It’s summer and the swing of the season is funnelling him that way, that’s all, towards the parties and the glittering people dancing on yachts, getting high, bright and beautiful, living that good life. He doesn’t have an apartment there anymore, but Max does, because Max never left: still has his custom penthouse with its views of the harbour. Unless—it’s a weird thought—unless Kelly kept it in the divorce. But when he texts Max to invite himself to stay, Max doesn’t mention anything about a new address.

Max also doesn’t sound, like, super enthused, but that’s just how he is. It’s his natural Dutchness, most likely. Fine you can come then. You are lucky I don’t have plans is probably just the Dutch way of saying “Yeah sounds great, looking forward to reconnecting.” You are very annoying is probably how people from the Netherlands express affection. Daniel texts back Love you too my brother 🤘🤘

He gets his hair touched up before he goes, a little bit of tattooing at the roots in the front. He does a spray tan, and gets his face dermaplaned (not in that order). You can’t go to Monaco and not look good, that's all.

It always feels kind of weird, flying into Nice in a non-F1 context, first class instead of private, but Daniel fits, still: gets asked for his autograph at the airport, and then on the concourse, and when he stops to put petrol in his rental car (a sweet little Porsche, nice). He tosses his keys to the valet at Max’s building and the valet goggles. That’s right, baby: twelve-time Grand Prix winner Daniel Ricciardo is in town. Daniel winks and the valet turns gratifyingly mauve.

Max, when Daniel pushes into his apartment, is less enthusiastic. “Daniel. I really do not know why you’ve come.”

Daniel ignores him in favour of crouching down, trying to pet Jimmy or Sassy. “Hey, little guy,” he croons. “Or girl. What’s up? Do you remember Uncle Danny? Am I in town to show your daddy a good time? Yeah I am! That’s right. That’s right.” Jimmy or Sassy scowls at him and swipes with one needle-tipped paw. All right, drama queen. Daniel stands back up and grins at Max. “I mean, mostly I wanted to meet your boyfriend,” he says, for some reason. What the fuck, Ricciardo. He keeps grinning, styles it out. “Gotta give him the old shovel speech, right?”

Max is doing the blank-eyed stare Daniel remembers so well from their racing days. It’s wildly disconcerting coming from this Max, who looks. Different, that’s all. He’s thick, still fit and well-muscled but heavy with it now, t-shirt stretched over the layer of hard fat covering his abdomen, face softer. He’s a bear of a man, he could—he could do lots of things, obviously. It’s fine. It’s just that part of Daniel still expects him to be the gawky teenager Daniel loomed over.

Max says, “What do you want to say to my boyfriend about shovels,” and for a bewildering moment Daniel has no idea what he’s talking about.

“Oh, no, it’s like—it’s a saying, or whatever, when someone starts dating someone. I mean, usually dads say it, I guess, but like—the idea is if he mistreats you I’ll…” Daniel trails off as he realises he’s not actually sure what “shovel speech” means. “Uh, hit him with a shovel? Or I guess potentially, like, use it to bury his corpse. Whiiiich is a joke! Not actually going to bury anyone.” No, weird comment, Daniel’s not actually going to bury anyone t-shirt is raising a lot of questions et cetera. Hastily, he adds “As long as he behaves!” and then stands there mentally kicking himself while Jimmy/Sassy yowls soulfully near his ankles. He's never like this, he never loses control of a conversation like this. It's agonising.

Max stares at him for a long moment, and then cracks up. “Daniel, you are still so weird,” he says. It sounds kind of affectionate.

“You know it, baby,” Daniel says. “So, where’s the boyf?

Max’s cheeks go a little red, it looks like. Maybe Daniel’s imagining it. “Ricardo is at the gym,” he says.

Daniel has to have misheard that. “Sorry, what’s this dude’s name?”

“Ricardo,” Max says grumpily. “My boyfriend.”

“Right, yeah, of course.” Once again Daniel decides, against his better judgement, to style it out. “Uh, is he Australian, by any chance? And devastatingly charismatic?”

Max sighs, as if Daniel is being really annoying. “He is from Melbourne. And yeah, he is okay I think. Maybe you won’t like him though, because you like always to be the funniest one. Come on, I will show you to your guest room.”

Daniel manages a casual-sounding, “Haha, you got me.” They’re walking through the apartment, now, Max leading the way. For a moment Daniel just watches the sunburned back of his neck.

#my fic #DO straight people allow seb vettel to defend their honour in the media?#maxiel #mv33 #dr3 #getting back on the posting horse please clap #divorce era one of the most interesting of the potential eras imo #future fic

421 notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 2 months

Text

Blooms Of Serenity ~ BC

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

GENRE: comfort fic, chan being very sweet and comforting toward a reader who has had a hard time with their anxiety/panic attacks lately, cute boyfriend chan, NON IDOLVERSE, established relationships

PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - February 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

Sliding out of the seat carefully you held your hand out to Chan who was still refusing to let you take off the blindfold he'd put on you about an hour ago. Part of you was a little sad he'd refused to let you see, you loved going on night drives with Chan since you'd spend all of your time looking up at the stars that were scattered across the sky it was one of your favourite things to do.

"Are you going to pout all night?" Chan whispers in your ear, his breath catching on your skin making your whole body shiver.

"No, but I'll stop sooner if you let me see," You giggle trying to tempt him but it wasn't going to, Chan had been working on this surprise all week long and he wasn't going to ruin it now.

In the heart of a packed city, where life echoed everywhere and it didn't matter how far you went you'd still hear the sounds of car horns or people yelling there existed a small haven of tranquillity known as the Serenity Garden. After extensive googling, Chan had managed to find the little slice of heaven for you.

Its charm lay not only in its lush greenery and vibrant blooms of flowers but also in its ability to soothe troubled souls. And it was here that Chan decided to bring you.

The gardens were said to be completely silent, breaking away from the hustle and bustle of life which was exactly what you needed right now.

As Chan stepped into the garden, the air seemed to change, becoming lighter, and more fragrant and turned his attention to you, his hands shakily taking off the blindfold as he studied your reactions. As soon as the blindfold was off and your eyes had adjusted to the light your once tense shoulders relaxed slightly as you took in the sight of the colourful flowers swaying gently in the breeze. The place looked like something straight out of a fantasy romance book.

"Chan...Where did you even find this?" Your voice barely came out as a whisper as you walked further into the gardens, being careful of the flowers as you strolled.

"I'll never reveal my secrets, Google did play a huge part," He winks at you playfully as he smiles to himself. He was pretty proud of his find and happy with himself that it seemed to ease you, even if just for a little while.

Your eyes were still busy trying to take everything in, the garden stretched out like a patchwork quilt, with winding pathways meandering through lush greenery and colourful blooms. Huge trees provided perfect picnic spaces underneath them.

"This place is...beautiful," Your voice cracked a little as you turned to look back at Chan, who had a giant grin on his face.

"You needed time away from everything, so I found a small home away from home," He smiled, taking your hand in his and kissing it softly before making his way through the garden with you.

Every corner of the garden held its own enchantment, there were clusters of roses in shades of pink and red, and beds of vibrant tulips that swayed gracefully in the night breeze. There were even patches of wildflowers dotted around the landscape, something you truly never thought you'd see in person.

"This is like something from a book," You whispered to Chan, somehow it felt wrong if you were to speak too loudly, like somehow you would disturb the peace that was around.

"I knew you'd love it," He chuckled softly, taking you toward the centre of the garden where a majestic water fountain was sat. It was a marble basin adorned with intricate carvings that all depicted mythical creatures and flowing vines. The water trickled from the spouts filling the night air with the sound of cascading water.

"I love it and you," You told him as he carefully sat down on a brick bench that was sat in front of the fountain.

"I love you too, this is your sanctuary," He told you as you carefully sat down beside him, smiling and letting out a sigh of relief as you just let the world be.

Sitting there amidst the blooms, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, a welcome respite from the storm raging within your mind. But even in this serene setting, the echoes of your anxiety lingered, threatening to pull you back into its grasp.

As if he could sense your distress Chan wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him.

"I'm here, Yn," He whispered softly, his voice soothing your frazzled nerves as if like magic,

"You're not alone." You leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his presence, something you'd always managed to do with your boyfriend. There was something about him you couldn't quite explain, something you never thought could be possible but he calmed you.

He made you feel safe and secure whenever you were together, safe enough to let your mind go blank as you just relaxed against him. Sleeping next to someone had never been easy for you before but with Chan you always found yourself able to fall asleep with ease and even sleep through the night. Your body trusted him.

"Just close your eyes and let it be," Chan whispered, you closed her eyes, letting the sound of the water fountain and the sweet scent of flowers envelop you like a protective cocoon, Chan's strong arms around you helping all the more. With each breath, you felt the tight knot of anxiety within your chest slowly begin to unravel.

"Listen to the leaves." He said, his breath warm against your ear as you kept your eyes closed.

"Each one carries a message of hope, reminding us that even in the darkest of times, light is always there to be found." Chan pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his hands gently running up and down your arms as you felt a lump in your throat beginning to form.

"You're stronger than you realised, Yn." He continued, his voice filling you with hope and confidence.

"You've faced so many challenges before and you've emerged stronger every single time...You have the courage and the resilience to overcome this..." He stilled his hands before moving closer to your ear,

"I believe in you," He whispered as your tears began to flow, you turned to bury your face in Chan's chest and he smiled weakly.

"I know it's hard," He told you as his arms tightened around you.

"But you're not and never will be alone in this. I'm here for you, every step of the way." He tells you as you snuggled closer to him.

"We'll face this together and we'll be stronger on the other side." He promised you, and you knew you could believe him, you just knew.

As you sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you, a beacon of light in the darkness you'd been consumed in for days. With Chan by your side, you knew that you could weather any storm, and conquer any fear. Together you'd be able to emerge from anything victious.

"Thank you, Chan...for everything," You sniffled a little and Chan smiled using his hands to gently swipe away the tears that had fallen.

"You never have to thank me for something like this, I just want you to come to me in the future." He told you as you nodded, cuddling into him and smiling warmly.

After a few hours of sitting there, enjoying the night sky and the sounds of water you knew it was time to head home but there was something different. It felt as though there was a renewed sense of purpose coursing through your veins. You knew that the road ahead would be filled with challenges, but you also knew that with Chan by your side, you were going to be able to face anything that came your way.

In the days that followed your visit to the Garden, you found yourself leaning on Chan more than ever, which he was adoring every second of. All he ever wanted was to be there for you, it was part of being a boyfriend he was supposed to be there to support you in times of hardship. He became your rock, your steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of emotions. With his unwavering support, you began to face her anxiety head-on, armed with newfound courage and determination.

The two of you had developed different coping mechanisms that would help you out whenever your mind would become stormy. You took walks to the park almost every other night, leaving your phones at home and just walking hand in hand, breathing in the crisp air as you tried to let things go. Throughout every single part of it, Chan had been there, a constant source of love and encouragement, never once letting you go through any of it alone just as he had promised.

Through everything, Serenity Garden was your sanctuary, a place of refuge and where Chan would take you when everything would get too much again. You both returned to it often, seeking solace amidst the flowers and fountains and every time you came back you felt a little lighter as if the weight of the world was lifted from your shoulders, even for a short time. The two of you were back again tonight, cuddled together on the brick bench, surrounded by the gentle melody of the water fountain and the fragrant embrace of the flowers. Chan had his arms around you, pulling you close to him as his arms were a comforting shield around you.

"I love you, Yn," He whispered, his voice soft but fulled of unwavering sincerity.

"I will always be here for you, through the good times and the bad." Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you stared up at him, overwhelmed by how much Chan truly meant to you and how deep his love went for you. At that moment, you knew he was absolutely your soulmate, your partner in life's adventures.

"I love you too, Chan." Your voice choked with emotion/

"Thank you for being my rock, for never giving up on me even when I felt like I was giving up on myself." Chan brushed a gentle kiss across your forehead,

"I'll never give up on you and I'll never let you give up on yourself," He whispered to you, kissing your forehead one last time before you sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, your love burning amidst the tranquil beauty of Serenity Garden and you felt peace completely wash over you.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp @xakx @sleepb @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @kpopmenace143 @minhosify @loveforred @b1nn1e-1s-cut3

#skz #skz x reader #skz imagine #skz imagines #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagine #bang chan imagines #chan #chan x reader #chan imagine #chan imagines

416 notes · View notes

onewingeddove444 · 10 months

Text

★How the bachelors would react if they accidentally made you cry

word count: 1.1k

Alex:

-would probably not even notice you're crying at first

-his expression would change so quickly

-😀😦

-kind of knew he had it coming though, since a lot of the stuff that flies out of his mouth is....well😇

-would IMMEDIATELY start taking the blame, saying things like "nahhh i didn't actually mean that i lied haha no idea why i said that i'm so stupid" ((starts blaming it on his hormones being affected by working out or something😭😭))

-hesitates at first, but pulls you into the tightest embrace you've ever felt ngl probably hurts a little lol

-his way of apologising to you is saying "you can punch me as hard as you want, i deserve it!!!!"

-starts treating you like royalty for another month, to the point where it becomes annoying

-every time you bring it up, even as a joke, he basically drops to his knees and starts apologising all over again

Elliott:

-if you thought this man was already dramatic as it is....lord🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

-would try to be cool about it, while in his head he's already pressing a dagger to his neck, saying that he has now betrayed his heart and doesn't want to go on any longer

-the moment he sees tears flowing down your face, the only word able to come out of his mouth is a soft "no, no, no..."

-he'd probably start crying with you😭😭😭

-starts whispering the most loving and kind things about yourself into your ear

-literally compares you to the most breathtaking images you could ever envision

-alternative scenario, where he just drops to the floor and starts begging for your forgiveness, even though what he said wasn't really that bad

-after that, he checks up on you every 5 minutes, to make sure you're not upset with him

-would swear on his life and soul to never hurt you again ((mind you it was never that serious😭))

-writes you so many short poems...atp they just become a whole book

Harvey:

-man....😭

-probably hurts him more than it does you lmao

-you crying would be too much for him already...but crying because of him?? ouuu

-is ready to completely retract what he said, even if he's absolutely right, that just doesn't matter to him anymore

-he just stands there for a good amount of time, since he really doesn't know how to deal with these kinds of emotions

-this might just be the first time this man has made someone cry because...let's be fr☠️

-would do that thing where he cups your cheeks and wipes your tears with his thumbs ((after that he's kinda clueless though😭))

-this literally being his worst nightmare...in his eyes hurting you is the equivalent of failing as a partner...and he's not really allowed to fail too often🙁

-would wait 30 years until you're not upset with him ((it takes you exactly 1 minute btw)), and after that it's flowers delivered to your doorstep every day of the week

-even if it were to be a one-time occurrence, he would NEVER EVER forget it, and he would always justify spoiling you with it ((using the 4 cents he makes from the clinic👎))

Sam:

-he is not that smart when it comes to verbalising thoughts please forgive him

-says things like "aw man you're crying😔😔😔😭😭“

-if he's holding a drink or eating something, he offers it to you, even if there's a single bite/sip left of it

-refuses to smile until he's 100% sure you've forgiven him, otherwise he just looks like this: :--(

-low-key fighting for his life not to pull out his phone and google "how to comfort crying person wikihow"

-once you tell him that it's okay between you two bro gets jolly, running around in circles, giggling, twirling his hair and laying down kicking his feet up

-the thing he did that upset you could've been minor, but that still doesn't stop him from saying "man...😔🤦 i'm so glad this chapter is behind us now.." like okay???😭😭😭 ((bonus points if he describes this as a "rough patch" in your relationship))

-tries making something for you after, fails miserably, resorts to showing you cool skateboard tricks he learned off of youtube

-learns his lesson and actually thinks more before he says something ((to the best of his ability))

-promises to write a song about your love and go platinum ((shows it to sebastian and gets banned from writing lyrics for the band forever))

Sebastian:

-freezes immediately

-literally unable to get a single word out, what is he supposed to do in his situation😭

-manages to whisper "i didn't mean..." and proceeds to go quiet after that

-he's been living a sheltered life for a very long time, so he's really scared that whatever he says it will only hurt you even more

-you can definitely see his expression change...not only does it soften but he looks UPSET upset, mostly with himself

-pulls you into a hug, hoping that it'll help a little bit ((it does, bro seems like a good hugger))

-asks you if there's anything he can do to cheer you up, and let me tell you he'd really do anything

-does not let you go for the rest of the day, having his arm wrapped around you, holding your hand, even if it's just the pinky fingers touching

-you have to keep reassuring him that it's okay now, he literally hits you with the "are you sure you're not mad at me?" every 3 seconds just to make sure you guys are good🙏

-lets you touch whatever you want in his room, i'm talking elementary school pictures, old sketchbooks, it's all yours, no matter how humiliating

Shane:

-um...uh😭🙅‍♀️

-yeah he is PISSED he's made you cry, he might've been mean when he first saw you, but now??? that is just not allowed in his mind idc

-jumps to self-deprecation immediately, talking about how he's an asshole, how he always fucks things up (🙁)

-just takes the whole blame on himself, no problem with that

-kind of saw this happening in the nearest future, that man does not have a very good opinion of himself let's be honest😭

-you could tell him you forgive him and he'd be like "nah don't do that wtf i don't deserve it😔"

-doesn't try comforting you at first, since he just assumes that you might never want to see him again

-but after the dust settles he reassures you that he's going to do everything to make sure this doesn't happen again

-sends you musty frozen pizza in the mail in retaliation (sigh🙁)

-would love to pretend this never happened, but making you cry really took a hit on his self-esteem, however it also made him think about how to be the best partner you can have

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv imagines #sdv headcanons #sdv bachelors #sdv alex #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv shane #i use so many emojis it’s actually sickening #sdv fanfic #sdv imagine #sdv headcanon #this is my first time writing on tumblr please forgive me if this looks like garbage🙏

2K notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 months

Text

not allowed xvii, m | jjk

pairing(s): est. poly relationship – yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: The date of Jeon Jungkook's mandatory military service is drawing close. There's a heart-to-heart... following by fucking all three holes. What? That harsh training is easier to endure when Jungkook has nice memories of his girlfriend's sweet, sweet ass.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; JK and reader only; relationship talk; all the feels and heart eyes; smut (fem reader, all the kisses, nipple play, fingering [pussy + ass], f and m-receiving oral + face fucking, slight edging, anal doggy, vaginal penetrative sex, mentions of m-masturbation, multiple orgasms); idol!BTS - Yoongi x reader x Jungkook; reader is JK’s noona; based on real time (before 2023.12.11) this is late but I can't not send off the bunbun :D

part of ‘not allowed’ series, but can be read alone. basic summary: your bf asked JK to fuck you, twice, and then on the regular. blue haired JK. 2021 YG birthday, ‘Butter’, wiyllt remix. new skill acquired, JK’s sheer pj punishment, 2021 JK birthday, during PTD in LA, 2022 HNY, 2022 YG birthday, PTD in LV, 2022 JK birthday; 2022 Christmas, before YG's service

“Yoongi warned me.”

“Hm?”

He didn’t have much time left. But he made time for you. He had made your favorite food (crispy samgyeopsal, hehe), bought you a gift even though you didn’t want to accept them (ended up being Google Play gift cards, which you gladly accepted; however, they came with a stipulation – “you better buy all of my and SUGA-hyung’s in-game outfits with this”), and made you take off your shirt (???????) to yank one of his white Calvin Klein t-shirts over your head. You always refused physical items from him. After all, you didn’t date him for the money, plus you didn’t want anyone to notice that you had any lavish gifts. They would think you had a suga daddy or something.

Hehe.

“Noona, it’s a t-shirt. Most people can afford a Calvin Klein t-shirt. Why do you think I accepted the campaign?”

“So you could be shirtless for a reason?”

“Hey!”

“Hmm, all for ARMY, huh?”

“That includes you too, you know.”

You had grinned at Jeon Jungkook then and, just this once, you accepted his gifts. He had smiled back with those round cheeks, bright white teeth, sparkling eyes, and a newly bald head. It was a strange look to see him in, but he made it amusing, joking about it all night, not addressing the why even though you both knew the part of life that was yet to come. He puffed his chest, shirtless, and jokingly pumped up his muscles.

“You remind me of The Rock right now,” you quipped.

His head tilted in confusion. “Eh?”

You pulled up a photo of Dawyne Johnson. “I expect your biceps to be this big after eighteen months.”

“Woah! That’s impossible!”

“Just imagine ARMY’s faces when you show up at the first concert as buff as The Rock. Still bald,” you laughed good-naturedly, setting your phone down. “We gotta pick someone to People’s Elbow.”

“Seokjin-hyung would never agree.”

“You said it, not me.”

Jungkook was laughing with you. It slowly died out, your smile remaining, and he was smiling back. You had noticed this feeling all night. Something weighing on him even though he was trying to be as normal as possible. It suddenly occurred to you that you were in a unique position now. You always had to hide your true emotions about Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook, staying silent until you were behind closed doors and only in their presence. After all, who would understand the love between you and two men, let alone two of the most talented and most famous world-class superstars of BTS? You could confide in no one. But now, everyone knew the timeline of their service to their country. It would not be strange for you to say out loud, in public, that you missed them being around.

It was…

Comforting.

Just knowing that you could say it out loud and people would likely say, me too, even if no one really knew what you truly meant.

Those big brown eyes searched your face. You smiled softly at him and didn’t back away, letting him find what he needed. You knew Jungkook wanted to say something, but you didn’t press for it. He would tell you on his own time. He was always like that.

“Yoongi warned me.”

You paused. “Hm?”

He came closer and held your shoulders. You looked up, seeing the infinite sky and the endless universe in those eyes. The strangest adjustment for you was not the hair but the lack of piercings. They had remained constant (or as constant as Jungkook had allowed, heh) even when his hair changed. He had removed all of them now, leaving only earrings in his lower earlobe that he would have to eventually have to remove too. Still, it was the same person looking back at you. No matter how many years passed, no matter how much his appearance changed, the pureness of his emotions always shone through those big peepers.

The original Magic Shop was that big heart of his, after all.

He made wishes come true all the time.

“I’m not… good at speaking or anything…” Jungkook mumbled, chewing the left side of his lower lip, exposing that familiar and well-loved underlip mole. He always started off with that. You didn’t interrupt even though you wanted to tell him he was always super obvious to read. Especially to you. “I… I wished I spent more time with you.”

You stilled, not expecting that. “Well, you know I understand–”

Jungkook smiled and shook you a little, telling you to shut up. You only did because of the faint sadness in his expression. “That’s what Yoongi-hyung warned me about. That you would understand. That you would always understand, no matter what. But, still… I know, I spent a lot of this year working on my album and flying to places and trying new things and recording content I knew ARMY would like. I really wanted to prepare stuff everyone could enjoy while we were gone.”

You chuckled. “Am I not included in that? You just said so earlier.”

He stubbornly shook his head. “You are different, noona. There are not enough hours for all the time I want to spend with you.”

You waited for him to look back to you again. He looked apologetic. He had run out of time. There was no one more time. But he never needed to give you more. You had always been grateful for every second, every minute, every hour that he gave you.

“Any time with you is enough for me, Jungkook.”

He held you tight.

“But it’s not enough for me.”

He was holding onto your shoulders very firmly. You could tell he did not want to cry. You gave him a moment to breathe. He blinked hard and swallowed, letting out a heavy exhale, expansive eyes full of glistening stars.

“I know you’ll be fine, noona.”

He tiled his head down, leaning his forehead against yours, and there were no shadows of his hair, just soft warm light all around.

“I have saved thousands of photos,” you murmured, and he cracked a smile. “And I’ll definitely still see your face all over Korea. I won’t be able to escape you, I promise.”

He stared into your eyes.

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

You closed your eyes and breathed in, imprinting Jungkook’s clean scent into your memory.

“Even stronger than Yoongi,” he whispered, and you imprinted his voice into your memory too, even though you already had many of his words archived already.

“Don’t let him know you said that,” you whispered back. “He’ll get sulky.”

His breath trembled against your lips.

“But I won’t be fine knowing I should have done more.”

You reached up and wrapped your arms around him, hooking your hands behind his shoulders.

“There is no should here. And you are stronger than you know. You’ll be golden, my love.”

You used to only use that for Yoongi. You both mostly hated pet names. Somehow, my love snuck its way in there. It was never used lightly. There was weight to it. And now you used it for Jungkook, in the same tone, with the same softness. My love. Every time you felt him shiver and hold you tighter. Tilted his head to close the distance. You kissed him back, letting it linger, letting it take shape as a core memory. You let him be the one to break it. You let him take one of your hands and hold it up to his, palm to palm, fingertips touching.

He looked down at your joined touch for a moment.

At the same time, your fingers and his fingers curled forward and interlocked.

“Hyung and I are lucky to have you.”

“Dunno, sometimes my jokes aren’t smooth like butter.”

Jungkook squeezed your hand tighter, chuckling lightly. “You know what I mean, noona.”

“Do I?”

Then he surprised you.

“I’ve never heard you complain about your situation even though you had every reason and every chance to.”

He had noticed.

He really is growing up, huh?

“There’s nothing I need to complain about. I’m pretty lucky, I think,” you hummed.

“With adamant-almost-insufferable personality SUGA-hyung and very-difficult-to-handle Jungkookie?”

They were light-hearted words but the way he said it was not so. His tone indicated this was something spoken about between them. You didn’t mind it. In fact, you preferred it. Not only did they have complimentary personalities but they had someone who understood their unique situation well. But you also understood the apprehension. They had expressed it before.

“You two are my favorite challenges,” you chuckled, rubbing your nose against Jungkook’s. “Life is too boring without you.”

It had probably been a bad decision back then. After all, the agency was against Min Yoongi and you dating from the start, telling him repeatedly that romantic relationships were not allowed. But with youth and stubborn personalities came resilience. And becoming really good at lying to authority. Whoops. The agency both had to low-key accept what was going on and slowly relaxed over time. But life had other ideas to make your love life even more unconventional. And hectic.

(And loud. Jeon Jungkook was very loud.)

Of course, life was hard, but every life was. In fact, maybe challenge was the wrong word as it had possible negative connotations. The odd hours, the lost sleep, the sneaking around, the no-gifts rule, the creative dates behind closed doors – these things were a small price to pay in the light of the unbreakable connections you had between Yoongi and Jungkook.

Not one red line of fate, but two.

One silver.

One golden.

Jungkook held your face in his hands.

“ARMY is the reason I live, but you are the reason I know my heart is always safe.”

You tried not to wince and shifted your eyes from side to side. Eerily similar to a certain someone. Hard to tell if it was a habit that you picked up from Yoongi or one he had picked up from you. You could tell Jungkook was being sincere, but it was still a dramatic cheesy compliment that you weren’t used to accepting. He laughed and deliberately peppered theatrical smooches all over your face that you tried to squirm away from, successfully breaking away and starting a chase throughout his home where he would catch you and pick you up to yell that he loved you straight into your ear, followed by a kissing frenzy. You would temporarily lose hearing and wiggle away to start the cycle all over again, knowing full well that you couldn’t run faster than him. Maybe something to think about for the new year.

In those moments, everything was perfect.

In those moments, the world was only you and him.

In those moments, no one could break the wholeness between you and him.

No one but time.

You both tumbled into his bed, laughing, childish, holding onto each other. Somehow, your hand landed on his waist and his ended up in your hair, playing with it, and Jungkook asked you how you did it.

“Do what?” you teased with a smirk.

“I sometimes think about if I could love someone else, but I really can’t,” Jungkook frowned, running his fingertips over your temple. “I just get obsessed and can’t stop.”

“Oh, I know.”

Everyone knew that, keke.

“I got jealous of hyung, really,” he admitted. “Not only because he had you, but because it seemed to work so well. And then it turns out that you guys really are perfect.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’re not perfect–”

“It made me love you even more,” Jungkook continued, talking over you. “You pair with him so well. You pair with me well. You’ve always listened to me. Really paid attention. You know what I want before I say anything. You sometimes even know how I feel before I know. You know everything.”

“I definitely don’t know everything,” you scoffed. “Stop making stuff up.”

“And you never get mad at me.”

You shrugged. “The trick is to always be mad.”

“Hey!”

You grinned. Softened a bit when you saw his narrowed eyes and pout.

“Life’s too short to be mad at you.”

Jungkook’s expression changed at your words.

“When you’re young, you think you have all the time in the world, but that’s not true,” you sighed, remembering how it was. “Time is finite. Why waste it letting things pile up and be resentful? It is better to know yourself, to articulate how you feel, and to approach problems with confidence that you can solve them. There are things people can do and things people can’t. Even if… Even if things don’t work out tomorrow, I will have lived knowing I did what made me happy and knowing I did everything I could to make you happy.”

You squeezed his waist and exhaled softly.

“Maybe I can’t do that forever. But is that a reason to stop? I don’t think so. So what if people think it’s wrong? So what if people don’t believe in my heart? So what if they think it can’t be done? Wrongness is not as easy to define as people would like it to be. I only need you and Yoongi to believe in my heart for it to be true, and my toxic trait has always been that I think I can do anything, hah…”

A year and a half was a short time. And a long time, perhaps, but dedication and loyalty were always the foundation you built these precious feelings on. Maybe it wasn’t very romantic to rely on your stubbornness to stay in love, but it did help keep promises.

“You ask me, how do I do it?”

You had hesitated in the beginning not for your sake, but theirs. It was hard to live complicated. It was harder to love in a complicated way. It was impossible made possible through sheer determination, and maybe everything would become more impossible in the future, but it would be disingenuous to right now if you let those worries consume you, and it was important to you for your love to know that every moment with them was never taken for granted. As long as you made that promise, you would spare no expense.

The only way to do that was to, of course, live like that.

“I love you because I want to, with everything I have. And I will never make a promise I don’t intend to keep.”

Jungkook stared at you with awe.

“You’re so cool, noona.”

You half-smiled. Not denying it. “Can you tell Yoongi that so he stops disagreeing with me?”

He grinned mischievously. “He actually thinks you’re really cool too, but he didn’t want me to tell you that.”

“That punk–”

Words fell away. You wouldn’t say the conversation was surprising, but you hadn’t expected that level of depth. You appreciated it. Maybe it had been Yoongi’s idea, but it had been up to Jungkook to vocalize it. You understood that it meant a lot to him who thought he wasn’t elegant in his communication. He didn’t have to worry though. You could feel his sincerity in other ways. In the way he looked at you, turning to lift himself over your body, fitting his hand over your wrist above your head. You shifted to be on your back, looking back with a playful smile. In the way he leaned in and kissed you. In the way his free hand grazed the hem of the t-shirt and slid over your skin.

He showed rather than told.

So show me.

You felt him whimper into the kiss as your tongue slid against his. Felt the shiver of desire as his thumb grazed over your nipple and his fingers close in around your breast. You smiled against his lips. Nothing had changed since the first time. Jungkook still touched you with the same earnestness, the same unflinching lust, pushing away your clothes with the same frustration, as if they personally offended him by existing. But he was different too, savoring the moment, letting his hot exhale wash over you, kissing down your neck in the way you liked, sliding his arms under you so he could dig his short nails into your back and make your spine arc and your chest press against his, his teeth biting into the curve of your shoulder and sucking hard.

You gasped, gripping his shoulder tightly.

His forearms tensed against your back, kissing back up to your ear and biting down just under it, leaving his marks on your skin, your pulse thundering under his devouring lips.

Good thing winter called for turtlenecks and scarves.

You looked down at him when Jungkook scooted back and licked up the center of your torso, slow and dripping saliva, feeling the heat and wetness and possessiveness in the action, opening his eyes slowly as he lifted his head from your cleavage, those brown irises dark and heavy with desire.

“The baldness makes it feel like I’m sexing up a stranger,” you admitted with a snicker.

He glared. “Shuddup. I’m tryin’ to be sexy here.” His Busan satoori came out more when he was done with your bullshit.

“Keep trying. It’s fun,” you cheerfully remarked.

What?

It was fun to annoy him. It worked too, for his anxious need to make this a perfect moment dropped and was superseded by raw emotion and carnal need. He dropped his head and worked his mouth all over your breasts. Lips, tongue, teeth. Your breath caught in your throat, back arching, sparks over your skin, and his arms pulled out from under you. He gripped your thighs, curling his tongue around your hard nipples and making you moan from his mouth. Flaring his tongue over one, pushing it around, sucking, then moving to the other, sinking his fingers into your thighs, groaning as your hands encircled his head and pushed him closer, more, your head pressed to the soft pillows he always brought out when you stayed over.

Jungkook’s usual sleeping pillow was not optimal for fucking.

Facts were facts.

(You still didn’t understand how he was comfortable on that cylinder but he was one of the seven wonders of the world. The other six being the rest of BTS, of course.)

It was never about what, but how.

It was never about who he was, but about who he was with you.

He kissed up your collarbones, leaving your skin tingling with the strange sensation of missing lip rings. His fingers dipping inwards, your thumbs prickled by his short hair, and your eyes connected as his fingertips slipped under your panties, stroking your wet slit, shuddering as he felt your heat while basking in the heat of your gaze, stilling your inhale.

The moment settled into memory.

Burned.

He pushed two fingers inside you and your moans were cut off by his lips, roughly kissing you as your hips rose and your pussy locked around him, closing your eyes to turn low-lit reality into a continuous dream. One of your hands sliding down and into his pants, cupping your palm around his erection still constricted by his boxer briefs. Creating a rhythm, his fingers pushing in, your erratic breath making his, rubbing his hardness with each wave of pleasure, feeling the fervor build between bodies, layer by layer, the physicality becoming more intense with the depth of emotion, deeper, his cock throbbing under your touch, catching his tongue, feeling his saliva mix with yours and trickle down your throat.

Pleasure seeping into every fiber of your being.

“J… Jungkook…”

He ducked his head, your hand falling out of his pants, but your protest was cut off by the overwhelming ecstasy of his lips around your nipple once again, flicking it with his tongue, fucking you with more force, and your hips matched his pace, your head tipping back, throat exposed to the air, unafraid, moaning to the ceiling, close, closer, there.

Gasping sharply, and your walls clenched around his fingers, spasming, the heavy and sweet scent of sex bursting into the air, coating his fingers, sticking to your thighs, racing electricity up your stomach and into your lungs, the orgasm leaving you shockingly breathless.

Then your eyes rolled up into your head when Jungkook pushed himself down the bed, peeling your soaked panties down your legs, and he shoved his face between your legs, moaning hotly when his tongue met slick skin, your hands immediately gripping the sheets, your hips bucking into his face, ravenous for the sensation of circling tongue and soft lips, your eyelids fluttering as your swollen clit pulsed against wet muscle.

“F-Fuck…”

It wasn’t elegant but it felt fucking good. Your legs hooked around his shoulders and Jungkook lifted your lower body, his strong hands squeezing your ass, thumbs pressing in and spreading out your holes to give his greedy mouth more access while your thighs suffocated him, your palm pushing down on the crown of his head, shuddering as his tongue circled your trembling pussy.

He sucked up your cum.

Eyes opening and directly looking up at you.

You dug your fingertips into his head and fucked his face.

His eyes rolled back and he thrust his tongue into you, moaning again into your wet heat as you flexed around it, and then he shoved his thumb into your tight ass. Thankfully you had come prepared (and knowing him too well), so it didn’t surprise you, although you were a bit amused at his audacity. It was easy to forget about though, especially when his lips sealed around your clit, licking fervently. His thumb began to push in and out, in, out, his muffled groans vibrating through your core, fingering your ass while sucking your engorged clit. You would think he wouldn’t dare without checking with you first. Then again, he told you all the time to let him in your ass.

He was lucky you had foresight.

He was also right, though, because clearly you were letting him do whatever he wanted and enjoying it.

Hah.

You came again, hard, all the blood rushing to your head and gasping for air.

“Oh? It’s clean.”

“Yeah, something told me you’d try and go for the ass tonight,” you chuckled between pants, only to lose all breath once more as Jungkook planted his knee above your shoulder, mysteriously missing pants and underwear somehow (the spedy efficiency he was capable of when horny was remarkable), pushing down the dark red head of his stiff cock onto your open mouth, shifting his leg as you expertly adjusted your hair out of the way.

You raised an eyebrow at him but all Jungkook did was throw his head back and moan as your tongue wrapped around his girth, molding your mouth around him. His hips flicked forward, and you had the angle, swallowing him deep in your throat, deep enough for your lips to press against the base, his balls smacking into your chin. The tip of your tongue slid out and licked them. He groaned, low and erotic, slowly fucking your face, his pitch hiking as your tongue ran up to the thin skin under the head and down to his balls, smoothly not missing a beat as he dictated the pace. He didn’t touch your head, giving you the chance to move away if it was too much, but he didn’t have to worry. He was getting harder and thicker with this steady pace, his length twitching wildly between your lips, giving you all the control in the world, tilting your head to keep it at the perfect angle, curling your tongue to the underside of his cock to press it to the roof of your mouth and down your throat, anchoring yourself with your hands clutching his hard thighs, his girth stretching you out.

A desperate whine above you and he slowed, almost to full stop.

“N-No… w-wait…”

You calmly continued to move your head back and forth, leisurely, your lips pressed against the base of the head, licking around and around, flaring the slit with the tip of your tongue, his strong flavor invading your taste buds.

His hips nearly buckled and Jungkook cried out, tapping your upper arm hurriedly.

“I… I w-want to fuck your ass…”

Oh.

So that was why he wanted to be as hard as possible.

“You act like I’m gonna let you do anything you want,” you fake complained, choosing to roll onto your elbows after he backed up. Hey, you were going to picking the position here, even if you were succumbing to all his wants. Once again you guessed right. You looked back to see sweat glistening on Jungkook’s collarbones and his wide eyes honed in onto your perky round ass bouncing in the air, on your knees with your chest against the mattress. He carelessly dumped the hand towel back onto the nightstand and ripped open the condom, oblivious to you witnessing his hard dick bobbing up and down in the air as he climbed back onto the bed.

This guy was spacing out staring at your butt.

“Hey, I’m still here,” you joked.

“Uh huh,” was his distracted reply.

You turned back to face forward as his expression disappeared behind you, half-amused but not offended by his one-track mind. You figured he was busy carefully rolling down the condom until you felt his thumb once again press into your tight ring of muscle and heard him moan as he sank inside.

Um.

“Fuck, it’s so tight and so soft inside you…”

While you appreciated his complimenting observations, some warning would have been nice, but, then again, who cared about that, certainly not you as you gripped his sheets and survived on shallow breath and the repeated shallow fullness, in, out, in, out, this time using more force and stretching you out, acutely aware of Jungkook watching your body’s reaction in fascination, his rough pants deepening, hauling himself up.

Forget it.

You didn’t want any warning.

He pulled his thumb out and replaced it with his cock, bottoming out right away.

You clenched your jaw and felt your core tighten involuntarily, his wanton moan striking the air, somehow remembering not to move for a second despite you knowing that he desperately wanted to, his entire body trembling as he gripped your hips. There was a dull ache, of course. His fully hard cock was a lot bigger than a finger, but you knew what was about to happen, experience helping you relax, and then you snapped your ass into his crotch.

Which meant, fuck me.

Pussy dripping, ass full, face down into the sheets that smelled just like him, you pushing back as he thrust into you, any pain fading into a heady euphoric state that was inescapable, overwhelming, unforgettable, his grasp imprinted onto your skin, loud smacks melting into the air filled with your joined, unashamed moans, both giving pleasure as much as receiving it. Sensations piling on sensations, everything you wanted and more. Everything he wanted and more, fuck, I love your ass, probably because you didn’t have as much control over him as you did with your pussy, damn, maybe he was smarter than you thought, gasping as you dropped your torso lower to give his cock a more comfortable angle.

“N-Not fair, y-you can’t go low like that…”

You would have replied, oh yes I can, but you were face-first into his bed getting fucked in the ass, being pounded so hard that even your thighs were shaking, so you only focused on what little breathing you could do, although you did evilly snicker in between thin inhales.

You heard a disapproving huff behind you.

Oop, he heard you.

His grip on your hips tightened and you barely had time to gasp before he slammed into you, deliberate and rough and focusing on giving it to you as hard as he could without cumming too fast. You could tell because his noises were turning into stifled grunts, probably biting down on his lower lip, but then again there wasn’t much you could do to go against what you enjoyed most. Pure, intense fucking, digging the base of your palms into his mattress and throwing your head back, driven by his pace and the rapturous passion, your leaking pussy throbbing with need, filled up in other ways, pulse roaring in your ears and pushed to the brink of tension, deep inside, his name tumbling from your mouth, drawn-out and shaken, your core clenching, adrenaline striking to a feverish high.

Jungkook choked on your name, losing control faster than he could speak.

He came hard and with a tangible jerk that you could feel, even within you, and the thought and sensation sent you over the edge, burying your face into the pillows and letting out a wanton string of curses, powerful pulsations shuddering up your spine, so intense it was nearly an out-of-body experience, heart beating so hard and so fast that you felt like it was going to leap out of your throat.

Well, shit.

Maybe your age was catching up to you.

No time to worry about that though, because the most awkward sound came out of you after Jungkook pulled out with a shuddering gasp.

“Uh…”

“Damn, that’s hot.”

You shot him a look.

Jungkook was sweaty, panting, and pointedly stared back at you, brows furrowed and eyes big, very serious and twice as defiant. “What?! I don’t give a fuck. It means I fucked you so well your body can’t help it but make embarrassing noises.”

…

You were speechless.

Well, he was kind of right and also kind of wrong (gravity and displacement and other various scientific explanations), and strangely sweet for not making you feel bad about it, but also… what the fuck? How are you supposed to respond to that? You gawked at him, scooting to the edge of the bed, intending to leave as he peeled off the used condom and threw it in the trash, but then he blocked you and pushed you back down, unmoving hand on your stomach.

“Um…”

Your legs dangled off the edge of the bed.

“I didn’t say you could go,” Jungkook huffed, narrowing his eyes.

“Well, I wasn’t asking for permission–”

His hard dick smacked your thigh, smearing the remnants of lube and cum onto your skin.

“Hey!”

Then you realized he was holding up another condom in his free hand. Menacingly. Er, would be if he wasn’t so cute. You raised your eyebrows at his stern face, not intimidated in the slightest, but apparently Jungkook didn’t care.

“I want to feel all three of your holes before I go serve my country.”

You blinked slowly.

Was this guy for real?

“Ah, hmmm, I mean I would have let you even without that milestone – woah!”

Despite your (pretend) protests, you weren’t opposed to the back-to-back-to-back nature of each hole being used. Impressed, even, that he planned(?) this, willingly letting yourself be yanked to the edge of the bed with your legs open and propping yourself onto your elbows to watch him roll down the condom on his once-again hard cock. Driven by his insatiable horniness (relatable). You then looked back up to his face, trying not smirk at how sweaty he was.

Failing, obviously.

Jungkook lined up and then glanced at you, realizing your attention on him.

His gaze darkened, turning sly.

“Don’t look so smug, noona.”

“Who, me–?”

Then you choked on your words as he thrust into you with one swift stroke. Unlike your ass, Jungkook knew he didn’t have to wait with your pussy – you had already cum twice and truly loved the tightness that you gripped him with – so he lifted one of your legs and pressed it to his chest, snapping his hips into you over and over, looking down at you. Your body reacted accordingly, back arching, arms outstretched and clawing at the sheets, shallow breath, heatedly staring back at him.

There was a very brief power struggle in which both of you tried to silently assert dominance.

Brief because suddenly neither of you gave a shit. Too lost in the lust. Your other leg wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and Jungkook fell forward, catching himself with his right hand and still clutching your leg, fucking you harder. Locking eyes. The love in them so real that they glistened, and you held onto his arm tightly, your touch alone reminding him you were always with him, bodies moving in unison, breathless and sharing oxygen, the corner of your lips rising.

Jungkook smiled back.

It would have been chaste if he wasn’t ramming you into the edge of his bed.

His inhale caught and so did yours, realizing you must have shifted your hips slightly, making the angle suddenly perfect, right there, that depth he loved and that spot that scattered all your thoughts, trapping you and him in entangled limbs, chasing the tightness, the heat, the physical overtaking everything. So hard, so solid, his taste still lingering on your tongue, his lips gasping your name, your walls squeezing his length and drawing him in, closer, fuck, I love you, his sweat sticking to your thigh and calf, I love you too, o-oh, you feel so fucking good, and you lifted your body as much as you could to meet his and Jungkook pressed down, his heavy body burning with passion, wanting to feel more too.

You shuddered and your head tipped back.

He groaned, gravelly and hoarse, smacking his hips into your throbbing pussy, and you felt his orgasm after your own, maybe even stronger than before, his cock twitching in your constricting, flinching inner walls, strongly massaging him through his high, digging your nails into his tattooed forearm and hoping no one would notice the marks. Wave after uncontrollable wave, closing your eyes to savor it, inhaling his familiar scent mixed with sex and sweat.

The afterglow lingered.

Jungkook rested his forehead on your breasts, gasping for air.

You ran your fingers over his fuzzy head, breathing heavy and slowing back down to normal. Hm. Somewhat therapeutic, to be honest. You still preferred his longer hair but he pulled off the egg cut better than most. Probably because he had the cutest face ever.

“Your pussy is too good,” he mumbled.

“You lasted pretty long.”

“Not long enough,” he complained to your tits. “Let’s go again.”

“I really need to clean up. We can go again after.”

“Okay, then I’ll just follow you and jack off while you’re cleaning up.”

“That isn’t awkward at all.”

“Why would it be awkward? You look the best naked. My eyeballs and dick have to soak in every second of it.”

“… You do realize you have vacation days, right?”

But, of course, you let him do whatever he wanted, because he was Jeon Jungkook and you could never deny him. Ah, such is life. Hard, but apparently not as hard as his dick was for you.

“That’s really impressive.”

“What? You make me horny! I’m gonna go until I or he literally passes out from exhaustion.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me, noona.”

Welp.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #yoonkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #yoonkook x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

417 notes · View notes

stairs-feooff · 1 year

Text

An Open Letter to White Emo Kids

When I was thirteen years old, I googled ‘how to be emo.’ The music, the aesthetics, the darkness of it all captivated me. There was transgression there, with boys in makeup and girls who weren’t ashamed to be bisexual. The online emo community on google plus (anyone else remember google plus? Just me?) took me in with open arms. I was allowed to be depressed, I didn’t have to hide my burgeoning sexuality or the starts of my struggle with depression, something I now know was caused by intense amounts of dysphoria and life in an abusive and queerphobic household.

Only, there was one problem. I wasn’t white.

Certainly, nobody would say they had an issue with me being Latino to my face. Most people in the scene genuinely believed they were not racist. After all, they loved Latino people, they thought the guys in Pierce the Veil were so hot. They appreciated the culture too, sombreros and maracas were the full extent of Mexican culture, right?

But to be emo, you had to be pale. I remember Onision saying that Black people couldn’t pull off emo, and while everyone I knew talked about how horrible he was for saying that, they all secretly believed it. The emo kids I knew stayed out of the sun, they wore long sleeves to stay whiter and some on the more goth side carried around parasols. It was just part of the gothic, to stay white and dead looking. I hid myself from the sun, my skin tanned quickly and well, we couldn’t have that.

Every guide on emo aesthetics emphasized stick straight hair. Every emo kid I knew reinforced that idea. I begged my mom for a relaxer, she refused. It was alright, I figured out how to damage my hair well enough on my own. Pete Wentz kept his hair straight, spent his time with a flat iron to press down the curls that made him inpalatable to white suburban teenagers. I could too. The burns, the split ends, the fact that my hair didn’t start to return to its natural texture until I cut several inches off this year, that was the sacrifice kids like me needed to take to come into the scene. If not, you would be made fun of. You’d be compared to Ray Toro, everyone’s favorite ‘princess fro fro.’ He was Puerto Rican, just like me. No one talked about that, beyond whispering it around like a dirty secret. No one acknowledged his pride in his country, mirrored by my own pride instilled in me from my mother. Every piece of him, every feature identifiable as nonwhite was sneered at. His hair, his nose, his lips, the white kids said he was the ugly one because of them. I was too, I suppose.

That was back in 2014. I remember it vividly, still.

Turn back the clock to the early 1980s. Dischord records has just signed seminal emo group, Rites of Spring. There is change in the humid Washington DC Summer air. A new genre would be born from it, branching from the existing hardcore movement. To say Dischord records created emo would be no exaggeration. Without them, the music all of us in the scene know and love would be nonexistent. Dischord was seminal in the scene, Dischord was also founded by Ian MacKeye, vocalist for Minor Threat and later, Fugazi.

Minor Threat is not emo in the tradional sense. Musically, it’s similar to punk and hardcore groups of the time, lacking the distinct musical flourishes of MacKeye’s later emo group, Fugazi. Still, Minor Threat helped shape the hardcore scene emo was born from and created the record label that signed Rites of Spring, the first emo band. Fugazi is legendary in first and second wave emo circles, influencing bands like Thursday. MacKeye’s stamp on emo is inescapable, even in the third wave. MacKeye also penned the song: Guilty of Being White.

Guilty of Being White is a minute of MacKeye complaining about systemic racism - or rather, being blamed for systemic racism. He’s sorry for being white, he’s so so sorry, don’t you feel sorry for him, a white man in the 1980s? Isn’t it horrible that white people are blamed for systemic inequality? Isn’t it horrible that he actually has to put work into allyship with people of color?

MacKeye says he never meant for the song to seem racist. Surely, the fact that it’s become a favorite of white power groups is a coincidence.

All that is to say, racism was baked into emo from the very beginning. The label that created the genre was founded by white men with very clear issues with racism, even if they did not see it that way. Pete Wentz flat ironing his Black hair and Tyler Joseph refusing to say he’s influenced by rap aren’t bugs unique to the third wave. Instead, they’re features of the genre.

Now, I’m not writing this to ‘cancel’ emo. I love emo dearly, I still consider myself emo. It, in every wave, is my favorite genre of music. Rites of Spring, Jawbreaker, My Chemical Romance, these bands have shaped my life like no other. Through emo I have met some of my best friends, white and nonwhite alike. Emo allowed me to express my gender and sexuality freely. Emo changed my life for the better, and it continues to do so. No, I am not writing this to cancel emo, whatever that means. Instead, it is because I love the genre so much that I feel the need to point out its flaws, its shielding and harboring of racism since Dischord herself began.

They say you should end essays like this with a call to action. Personally, I don’t know what I can say that hasn’t been reiterated a thousand times. Really, what am I supposed to say here? Stop being racist? I, like so many other people of color both in and out of the scene are tired of telling white people to do just that over and over. We are tired of seeing white people stop saying what isn’t acceptable anymore, not due to any sort of active unpacking of white supremacy on their part but simply out of a wish to not be ostracized. I am tired of going to emo spaces outside my friend groups and explaining to white thirty year olds what racism is, over and over and over again ad infinitum. I am tired of seeing white people try and take the lead on discussions of racism, whether it is to rapidly assert ‘im not racist but-‘ or to be on the opposite extreme, to jump the gun and form a dog-eat-dog circus, where the end goal is not to actually form a safe place for people of color but to prove how not racist they are. I am tired of watching white people jump on whatever they can to demonize people of color in the scene. I am tired of watching nuanced conversations about racism and complicitness in racism be overshadowed by people upset their pet white man isn’t going to kiss their other pet white man anymore. I am tired of watching children be called slurs.

Perhaps my frustration is coming loose. It’s hard to be in the middle of all this and not be frustrated. At this point, I am disillusioned. These conversations are seemingly brought up every month, and yet, there is no systemic change. All I can say is I hope that one day, emo becomes actively hostile to racism and racists. Perhaps being aware that racism has been integral to the scene since the beginning is a good place to start.

#*swings bat at hornets nest*

2K notes · View notes

littlebluespoon · 6 months

Text

Stranded - Octo!König (Part 4)

Hello! Here's Part 4, as promised even though it's the next morning for me :)

1.5Kwords, 18+ non-humanoid sex toys and obsessive behaviour in this chapter

AO3 link

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

---

(stole pic from google sorry)

Once again, you were going weeks without properly seeing König. You’d catch his shoulder disappearing around a corner or the sound of suckers echoing in an empty hallway but no actual sightings of a giant man or bright octopus. For you, life was mostly normal. Patching up soldiers, bandaging up Soap after he gave himself happy tail again and hanging out with the rest of the taskforce while on downtime,

“Soap, you cannot rocket jump in real life. You. Would. Die.” If this had been the first time you’d had to explain this to the canine hybrid you might have had a little more patience but seeing as it was not, you were ready to throw something at him,

“But whit if we weren’ human?” Soap’s enthusiasm at least was endearing. So giving him an exasperated smile you just shook your head and moved on while noting to refill your supply of painkillers and burn salves.

It was currently just you and Soap in the small kitchenette in the taskforce’s assigned rooms, you had no patients to see and Soap had the day off given his ‘extensive injuries’ so the two of you had taken over the games console and were having a competitive tournament in Mario Kart, loser has to steal a piece of clothing from Ghost. Currently it was 2-2 and you were on the last match so now it was getting dirty,

“So was the LT around when you broke your tail?” you teased, hoping for him to take his eyes off the screen,

“Oi! At least I wasn’ the one wi’ hickeys all o’er their neck,” he fired back, smugly like he’d been expecting your teasing.

“They weren’t hickeys! …They were bruises…” you refused to look at him, knowing exactly the expression on his face having seen it far too much for your liking,

“Isnt that what hickeys are?” you decide that driving off the edge of Rainbow Road was the better option, take the loss and deal with the consequences later.

Seeing as you have 24 hours to steal from Ghost you left Soap to his gloating and went off to find out where Ghost was before breaking into his room. After finding out from a passing corporal that Ghost was in a meeting with Price, and double checking the hall was clear so no one else would catch you breaking into your superiors quarters, you picked the lock on his door before quickly running in and grabbing the first item from the laundry basket, a shirt with his name on it. Perfect for your bet, not so great if anyone else sees however. Ignoring all of that you run back to Soap, completely missing the seething bright orange octopus attached to the ceiling above you.

-----

Retreating to you room after dinner without having to take a mountain of paperwork with you was a luxury but seeing as the 141 hadn’t been called out in several weeks, you’d had plenty of time to catch up on it. Which means your plans for the night were finishing your current read and maybe starting a new one if there was time. Of course those plans depended on you getting to your room, it seemed like every four or five steps you were stopped by a Kortac soldier,

“Do you know where the colonel is?” “Do you think you could look at something for me?” “I want a second opinion on this rash,” “Could you..?” “Would you..?”

By the time you escaped them your plans of finishing your book were out the window. However as you approached your door, all your plans went out the window. There was a box outside your door, plain brown, not small but also not massive. It looked like it held a water bottle or something. The hallway was empty and there wasn’t anything to tell who had left it but given that you were on base you were pretty sure it wasn’t anything dangerous so as you closed your door you decided it could wait until after you’d gotten changed into comfier clothes and out of your uniform.

The nondescript box didn’t have much weight to it so you were expecting it was maybe mislabelled bandages or some other medical dressing so when you scored open the box you were surprised by the nice stationary. High quality textured paper, a subtle peach colour with typed lettering;

Think of me My Heart

An odd note but what was even odder was the other object in the box. A bright orange tentacle. About as big as your fist, with a marbled look of orange and teal, and made of silicon. Someone had left you a tentacle shaped sex toy. Upon recognition a yelp leaves your mouth and you’ve thrown the box across your room before you had even realised you’d moved. You know exactly who sent it, you just couldn’t understand why. You barely know each other, you don’t even think he’s said more than 10 words to you outside of missions or commands. You’re the medic on base with the most aquatic hybrid training, that’s the only reason you see him so often so why would he do this? Or maybe he didn’t, maybe it’s a prank? It could be Soap getting back at you for teasing or even Ghost for stealing his shirt or maybe even a Kortac soldier trying to rile up their colonel or something. It could have been anything, it was probably just a prank because you didn’t want to even entertain the thought that König had sent you this. He was a friend, it was a tentative relationship but you called it friendship as after everything you’d been through with him it was a little hard to just call each other acquaintances. It’s a prank, so you boxed it back up and shoved it to the back of your wardrobe to be never seen again.

Trying to get to sleep was difficult. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and every time you turned around it felt like the blankets were suffocating you. After an hour of this you decided to check your room, turning on all the lights, opening all the doors and doing a well-known routine to you. Unlock, open and check, relock. You did that with all the cupboards, you pulled your bed apart and reorganised your desk, kit bag and wardrobe. Nothing, there wasn’t a thing for you to be paranoid about and you’d made sure of it. Climbing back into bed exhausted, you settled into the blankets and closed your eyes. The blankets no longer heavy on you, the hairs on the back of your neck were soft and yet, you still felt watched.

-----

In the bright light of the morning the box looked no different and thankfully your paranoia had waned, so there was no interruption to your morning schedule. Not until you had you leave your room, which is where you found another sheet of peach coloured paper, folded next to an envelope. The fear stopped you in your tracks. Once again there was no one in sight, no noises to indicate a person either and you hadn’t heard anything while getting dressed. Deciding to deal with it before breakfast seemed like a smart decision at the time because if you’d known what was in the envelope after breakfast you were sure you’d never have kept it down;

My Dearest Heart,

You must think me a cowardly man for this but I felt this was the best way to approach you. I could not hear you last night, were you holding in your heavenly sounds so that no one else might hear? You need not worry Heart, I would never let anyone else near you. Not even the feral Lieutenant you seem so fascinated by. I do hope you liked my present and that you enjoy this one too, although I admit these were more for my pleasure.

With all My Love,

Your Soul

You could feel your heart escaping from its cage with every word you read. You were a soldier, you’d been in battle, you’d nearly died. There had been scarier moments in your life than this. So how was it this is the only time you’ve ever wanted to curl up in the back of a cupboard and never face the world again? You didn’t want to open the envelope. You never meant to open the envelop but your hands were shaking as you moved to stuff the letter with your first unwanted gift. It slipped and that’s when you discovered it wasn’t sealed and its contents had spilt all across your floor. Pictures of you were scattered across your floor. You; eating, working, training, in the gym, in the shower and even in your bed. You had been watched. Someone had been watching you for months.

#bluespoonswriting #call of duty fanfic #octo!könig #cod fanfic #call of duty x reader #könig x reader #konig x reader #octo!konig #könig x you #könig x y/n

406 notes · View notes

bakugoushotwife · 6 months

Text

kinktober day fifteen: brat-taming kink

>>> god bless i love him so bad...brain rot for this plot...y'all should i make this one like a series fdskjkjgjkgj i swear to god i'm feeling this way about all my fics as of late!! this one has a lot of japanese symbolism and traditions included. i am not japanese and all my research came from different sources across google, but if anything is incorrect or insensitive pls reach out and let me know <3

>>> starring: suguru geto x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: brat-taming, history/pining between reader and geto, face-fucking (m!receiving) edging (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), breeding, degradation/praise, pet names, creampie >>> wc: 4.6k >>> event masterlist:

he didn’t love the idea, to say the least. he understands why a marriage is necessary. it humanizes him, makes him relatable, opens the door to more preaching topics. he didn’t understand why he had to marry his fellow sorcerer and old classmate—especially one as mouthy as you. you didn’t either, forced into it by the higher ups with hopes you could bring suguru back to the right side of history, not taking your feelings into the matter at all, not that you expected them to. but you’re sure they already knew you wouldn’t be able to complete this mission—perhaps they hoped for your death at his hand.

at one point, you were friends. now, you were about to become the unwilling misses geto, though even that was more complicated than it seems. you were the third musketeer back in the day. even shoko preferred to stay out of the boys’ shenanigans, sticking to herself or utahime, not bothered in the slightest to let you chase after satoru and suguru. you were closer to the latter, finding it easy to gang up on the former together. he entertained your wit and you let him try out new moves on you. you loved each other. that’s why it hurt so bad—still hurts to this day—that he left and turned into this. and now you’re stuck in the thick of it.

you make him beyond angry. putting aside your utter disrespect and disobedience, you remind him of nothing but conflicting times, things he’d rather not think about now that those days were supposed to be far behind him. you hadn’t changed a bit from the day he left, and he hates that even more. you’re lively and talented, your powers long abused by the very higher ups that contributed to his madness and the ones that leveraged you into this ceremony. when he was told of your engagement, he could have refused and had them find him a new wife. he could have killed them all and refused this altogether—he’s not quite sure why he said yes. he pulls on his hakama trousers, smoothing at the pleats as he racks his brain. he slings his haori around his shoulders, and he realizes a small part of him may have always wanted to marry you; he remembers fantasies of you in high school, recalling how badly he yearned for your affection. and he hates that more than anything.

he knows you feel similarly about him, hence all your acting up. you had been short and cold and almost satoru level snotty with him through the engagement parties and wedding planning and obligatory dinners. you have the nerve to sneer as you speak and look at him with nothing but disgust. he’s the one who should be disgusted with you. you chose to stay with gojo over him, chose that world of lies and injustice when you could have been enlightened like him from the beginning. it’s only fitting you’re his bride, really. it’s what he deserves, as retribution for your betrayal. and he would make sure to claim what was his on his wedding night. the servants come to get him as he shrugs into his montsuki with a new smug smile replacing what was a dreading frown.

you wore a red iro-uchikake. and you look like a dream he had when he was a teenager. it’s ironic really. he knows not wearing the more traditional and all white shiromuku was another one of your jabs, but the color red was more significant to him than white. it means life, it wards off all evils. perhaps you knew that too, and that’s why you chose the color, though geto remembers you wearing the deep blood color often enough through adolescence that seeing you in it again makes some of the tightness in his chest let off just a little bit, even as you avoid his eyes.

he looked magnificent. his hair had grown longer, and you had always liked to play with it before, but now it cascades over his shoulder in waves despite the top-bun halving the thickness. you could hear your heart pound. if you were to tell the second year version of yourself that you would be sharing a wedding temple with suguru geto, you may have cried from relief and happiness. but as you get closer to him with no guests to witness this other than the priest and a handful of temple ladies, you feel the coursing energy of excitement and nerves. you aren’t sure what to expect from him now that no one will be watching. you don’t even truly know how he feels for you. he has been making attempts to earn your favor, but that was because he had a crowd.

he takes your hand and smiles down at you like he did when you were much younger and much less conflicted over your feelings. it makes your heart flutter like it used to, and your eyes widen a bit at his gentility. the priest offers his blessings to the gods as you two stand before him, hand-in-hand. your mind races. how much of this is real? and even if he’s being genuine, does it really matter? after everything he put you through, all the things he had done, the things he wants to do, can you look past it all just to love him anyway?

the temple servants set up the sakazuiki. they space the three ceremonial cups evenly apart, and fill them with the richest sake. san-san-kudo. you bite your lip, hating yourself for your doubt. suguru gently pulls you out of your head and towards the table, to the binding ceremony of old tradition. he picks up the first cup, holding it to his face.

“you look beautiful, okusan.” he smirks over the cup, looking oddly satisfied with himself, like he knows something you don’t. he then sips the first cup three times, holding your eyes. you feel your body burn, looking down at the kimono you chose and back to him. his fingers lightly brush against yours as you take the cup. you feel butterflies.

“thank you, geto-san.” you tilt your head down to indicate your grace, thoughts fuzzied by his intense stare and old feelings bubbling up your gut. you sip three times, and he picks up the next sakazuiki. he chuckles, and you swear you see a little bit of light in his deep eyes.

“are you waiting for titles until the conclusion of the ceremony, anata?” he piles on the mulit-meaning endearment, passing you the second cup. you nearly choke on your sake.

“no. you look very nice, uchi no hito.” you take your final sip, and it’s geto’s turn to stammer. he expected a tsureai or muko, but the one you chose had so much meaning. your home, your person. that’s what you called him. he knew the shock and wonder had to show on his face based off of your smug grin whenever you set the cup down. you think you can toy with him, pull stunts with him. you’re much too bold—and he wants to hate it, he wants to smother that personality right out of you, but for now–he’ll let himself love it.

“this binds us through our love, wisdom, and happiness.” he says the words to bring you together officially, tying your souls together for better or worse. he sips from the final cup three times, the symbolism not lost on you, and passes it to you to do the same.

“this binds us through our hatred, passion, and ignorance.” you look him in the eyes as you take your drinks, and his dark pink lips stretch into a wide smile.

“and now you are mine. how lucky we are to be brought back to each other in this way.” he chums, taking the wedding rings from his pocket as the priest continues offering his prayers to the skies. you hold out your hand expectantly, and he arches a brow.

“nine is not a lucky number, perhaps we’re cursed instead.” you shrug, that same smugness tugging at your lips. oh, you’re going to drive him crazy. you give him hope and you pull it away, you jab at him and you’re so gorgeous that he can’t even be upset with you for it. he slides the diamond encrusted with black gems down your third finger, giving you a smug smile of his own. he can play dirty too. he extends the box to you and you pluck his gold band from it, sliding it slowly down his finger. the excitement builds in your gut as you become more and more okay with whatever this is. you always thought he had a point. the jujutsu society was so horribly fucked up–maybe he was right all along and you were the coward after all. i mean, where did all your loyalty get you? sold off to a dangerous man with hopes to shut you up for good? passed around mission to mission until your body barely functioned anymore? maybe you could turn a blind eye to all his indiscretions, especially when he’s looking at you with such affection in once cold eyes. you still hold his hand in both of yours, and he enjoys the warmth, but you’ve pushed and poked him just enough, these teasing touches part of them.

instead of a kiss to seal this union once more, he leans down to your ear. “go get changed. i like simple lingerie.” he all but purrs in your ear, sending shivers down your spine at the order. you were losing sight of yourself at a rapid pace. you had hoped to hold out longer than this. his lips tickle the shell of your ear and a soft gasp leaves you. you tell yourself to be strong.

“and if i don’t? you’d be lucky to sleep with me at all, husband.” you sneer, and again he doesn’t know what to make of you, but he’s dedicated to figuring it out. he leans up and tilts his head, analyzing the lust in your eyes and the shakiness in your hands. he laughs at you when he realizes.

“go get changed, little pet. we’ll discuss your guilt and attitude later.” he shakes his head at you, his gaze making you feel as if you were already undressed before him. he turns, tossing that confident smirk over his shoulder again for good measure. “red is your color.”

and then the temple girls are at your side, ready to escort their new geto-sama to her new room in the geto estate.. you allow them, trailing silently as you wonder just what he was able to figure out by looking at you, and what lingerie you would put on for him.

you choose a red babydoll dress. the sheer plunging neckline leaves little to the imagination and the tight fit of the lace leaves even less. it fans out from your body from there, the fluffy hem stopping just below your ass. seeing yourself in the mirror, perched perfectly at the end of the bed, you smile. you imagine that qualifies as simple, though you’re sure it will still make him crazy for you. you’re embarrassed to want that, to dress yourself up and present yourself to him just as he asked. your friends would be ashamed, namely one. but as the door creaks open and you feel an icy stare raking over your body, you can’t quell your excitement.

he hums approvingly as the door clicks shut behind him. he’s so grateful he didn’t deny this union out of his own narrow minded rage. he never thought he would see you again after you denied him the first time, but here you are, on the bed you two would soon share in his home, now branded with his last name— all wrapped up like a christmas present.

“sugurin–” the old nickname flies off your tongue in your haste, and a fondness glosses over the devious intent in his eyes. you clear your throat and tug the sides of your dress down pathetically. “i... actually don’t know what to say.” you blink in realization, painfully aware of how alone you two are. was he still the same man you knew?

“don’t worry, kibōchi.” he returns his own nickname, the way you squirm in your place at the sound of it wasn’t lost on him, though the name puts you at was in the same way it stirs you up. his desire returns at your doe-eyed stare, you trust him to some extent, even through your wariness. “i’ll start. you were assigned to marry me, no?”

you nod your head, now knowing he wouldn’t hurt you, not with the fondness in which he says your name. your core tingles as he approaches you, a scarily sweet smile on his face.

“good. thank you for your honesty, anata girl.” he nods, sliding his crested black kimono off, the only proper covering of your wedding remaining on his body, for your convenience if anything. “and you’ve been such a brat because…? which is it: you’re mad at them, mad at me, or mad at yourself?”

you furrow your brows at his words. it seemed he learned everything in just an extended look at you. “am not a brat.” you fold your arms in indignation, incidentally proving him right. he just shakes his head, chuckling again.

“look at you. you didn’t answer my question and you’re pouting like a toddler.” he lets his gaze drift down to your body just begging for his touch. he can’t help but wonder what you’ll like and what your favorite position will be and how fertile you are and what kind of drive you’ll have, all things he never learned about you when you were just friends. you feel his scrutiny and fight through your mixed feelings to respond.

“can’t it be a mixture of all three?” you sigh out shakily, deciding to stick to your guns even if you want him, too.

he clicks his tongue in consideration. “i suppose. but the sorcerers of your past no longer have any influence over your life. and you should be more forgiving to yourself, even if you are being a snot.”

you scrunch your nose up in distaste, hating how his words soothe your heart. “you conveniently left yourself out of that equation.” you fold your arms and it only pushes your chest out more. you’re impossible, and it’s hard for him not to smirk at you. you’re powerless, he knows and you know it—yet you fight anyway. it’s precious.

“i don’t regret leaving. i did the right thing.” he says, head held high. his devotion is moving, even when he looks at you with such a mixed bag of emotions. “i missed you however. i accepted this union to see you again.”

you can tell from his eyes that his emotion is genuine, but it still shoots pangs through your heart as you recall days spent in bed crying over his absence. you turn your head away so the influence of his obsidian stare couldn’t cut so deep. “you left me.”

“you didn’t join me when i asked you to.” he retorts, clenching his jaw at your argumentative nature. “i came back, just for you.”

“you came back to use me.” you spit, echoing the words of your other classmates. the look in your eyes is angry, this was something you genuinely believed. that infuriates him. “you were going to leverage me, until you provoked him.”

his jaw ticks again. “and who told you this, satoru? i would have thought you knew me best.” he sighs his disappointment, grabbing your hands. he pulls you off the bed, your knees buckling you into a stand—then he roughly grabs your cheeks to make you look at him. “or did you forget just how close we were? how deeply i loved you then, all the time we spent together? you’re the one who betrayed me. you were mine! mine, you were supposed to be mine and you stayed with him!” his voice rises just a bit with his frustration, but he drops his grip on you and steps back, “i would have done anything to take you with me. and everything…could have been the same, i would have kept you safe and away from this life. We could have had so much more time together—and you’re being so goddamn bratty now that i have you back…what am i to do with you?”

you blink rapidly at his speech washes over you. did he really mean it, that he just wanted you to have you? you were never intended to be used as a bargaining chip, and you let everyone else warp the vision of the man you once held so dear? you shake your head violently, rejecting the idea. he rakes his hands over his face, fed up with the back and forth. “i’ve compartmentalized you out over the years. but i have you back, and i refuse to waste any more time.”

“i’m sorry sugurin—i thought you hated me!” you defend, reaching for him. he grabs your wrists again and plants your hands on his chest, moving his touch to your face.

“then make it up to me.” he orders with a fervent nod, his hold on your face firm but comforting. you surprise him by leaning up and closing the remaining distance to kiss him, balling up his shirt in your fists. you were absolutely insufferable, annoying, bratty, and irritating—but he could do this forever. feeling you move with such passion, vigorously pulling at him and finally giving in to all those pent up feelings was enough to prompt him to do the same. he memorizes your taste for a while before he pulls away and directs you to your knees with his signature rough handling, though he’s still careful not to hurt you. “i want you to really make it up to me.”

you nod eagerly and shove your hair over your shoulders while he frees his waiting ache. he can hardly stand the sight of you on your knees under him, massive cock creating a shadow over your obedient and eager face. as gorgeous as you are like this, it was too late to make up for your transgressions. you salivate at the sight of his impressive length standing proud over you, curved and so long he leans to one side with a thickness you know will make even your throat burn. your mouth parts for him immediately, slick sliding down the insides of your thighs at the idea of relieving his drooling slit. “you’re gonna have to open wider than that, okusan.”

and he helps you do so, planting his broad callused hands firmly on each side of your face, bumping his cockhead against your puffy bottom lip and shoving himself into your silky walls. you moan out in surprise and relax your throat, making your new husband grin at the performance. He’s perhaps unintentionally violent as he sheaths to the hilt, your nose bumping against black coarse hair above his shaft. “there, there.”

he pats your cheek patronizingly, flicking away a tear that formed. “don’t cry, kibōchi. you were made for this.” he coos affectionately, body growing hot to the touch at his vision. he knew this was a great start to teaching you your place in life, and that being a brat was not one of them. running away was not one of them, you were permanently his and he would never let you go again. he pulls your head back off with that grip to use you, plunging your throat back down on him and biting down on his lip to keep his own sounds from interrupting your gorgeous gags.

“don’t you like this so much better than acting snotty, sweet wife?” he teases only slightly, taking your teary eyes flicking up to look at him as a yes. you can feel him deep, that burning sensation that you knew would come starting to sting your vocal cords. “you take me so well, i’ve always told you sorcery wasn’t for you. this is all you need to do forever.”

you moan at the idea, him keeping you home to take after the estate and maybe even caring for the kids you may have in the future. he chortles, pleasantly surprised by you yet again. “you think you’re clever, darling. acting all sweet now so i’ll forget all about your behavior, hm?”

he pulls you off with a lewd pop, pushing at the wimpy straps of your dress with a satisfied hum as the fabric falls away from your chest. “too bad. get on the bed.”

your heart raced, but you nod. your throat was too hoarse to speak anyway. you weren’t planning anything, you felt like liquid, you had given into your vows and let suguru take you mind, body, and spirit—and he hadn’t even touched you yet. you wobble up to your feet and he slaps your ass when you turn it to him, which makes you gasp and stumble forward. he hums, predatory narrow eyes watching you climb up and lay in the center of the large mattress. he wastes no time in positioning over you. he spits, thumbing his lube over your sensitivity. he pins your fluffy dress up over your stomach, lulling you into sweet moans, your high building in your stomach rapidly. he doesn’t know where to look, you’re all too perfect. the faces you make, your beautiful, slobber-soaked mouth pouting out all your pleasures, your gorgeous tits sitting so prettily in wait for him. then there was your weeping cunt, so pathetically soaked just from sucking him off.

“su–gu-rin~” you whimper out a little, your legs trying to close around his large body mass as the feeling becomes more intense. he hums, smacking your cunt.

“brats don’t get to cum.” he shrugs, licking and biting at the insides of your thighs to tease you further. your plush skin is so sensitive, and he loves watching the way you squirm to get away from his canines scraping your flesh. you gasp in anger, orgasm ruined the longer he refuses to touch where you need him most.

“brat?—you’re really gonna be mean to me, uchi no hito?” you pout, and he can feel his heart pang at the insistence and the sweet way you call him yours. you’re softening his heart already. he still had the want to punish you, but the need to claim you was surely fighting back.

“then apologize for your behavior or you won’t cum at all.” he sits up a bit, tossing some hair over his shoulder. you bat your lashes at him, knowing he was hurt by your choice, just like you were hurt by his. but now there was a chance to make it right, to be together forever like you were meant to–and if you had to apologize for your doubts in him, you would sing them loudly.

“oh—sugurin, i’m sorry! i really am,” his fingers squeeze and toy with your clit, making your body jump as you try to stutter through your words. “just mi-missed you, that’s all, was mean because i missed y-you!” you writhe and wiggle closer and away from his touch simultaneously, and he hums happily at your speech.

“that’s better.” he hums approvingly, pushing your legs up to your chest. he wants you to feel this as much and as deeply as possible. “such a good girl, did i tell you how beautiful you look okusan?”

you nod, feeling the well of nerves heating up in your core, his hands resting on your knees as he looks over the disheveled lingerie. “told me at the wedding…” you sniffle, wiggling your hips for his attention again.

“i see.” he frowns, as if disappointed by your answer. his hands feel your thighs and trail back to your knees, getting his hands closer and closer to where you needed him most with each pass. you whine desperately, and he hums out in fake curiosity, “what is it, darling?”

“need you to touch me—please.” you squirm, giving him those irresistible doe-eyes. he planned to make you beg much harder than that, but you had him worked all the way up, your body, behavior, and the history between you was setting him on fire.

“oh i’ll make you cum, kibōchi.” he moves his grip to the backs of your thighs as he moves his hips forward. you try to prepare yourself but it’s no use, he plunges in without any hesitation or resistance on your part. it aches, you clench down at the spread and his thumb comes back to your clit to rub the pain away. “but you can only do it on my dick. got it?”

you nod slowly and his hips set a pace. he’s so deep you can barely believe he’s allowed to fuck you like this, the pain melting away to a dull pleasure, different from earlier. his gaze is still white hot and searing, devouring every inch of your body. “you really are so beautiful, sweet okusan. my kibōchi turned perfect cocksleeve, yeah?” he growls into the space between you, his fingers digging into the fat of your skin so hard you know he’ll leave his mark.

that draws a moan out of you, loving the idea of being nothing more than a wife, his partner, something you never thought you’d be once you parted ways. the feeling of him rocking into your body is addicting, and now you know you are capable of looking past anything he’s done or will do just to love him anyway. you would throw all your morals away just for this, and he knows that too. “my pretty little okusan, trying so hard to pretend she didn’t want me. now look, the prettiest you’ve ever been bouncing on me.”

he leans over your body, deepening his angle and allowing him to pick up his speed. he watches the way your tits bounce at this pace, your eyes rolling back a little as you’re rendered unable to speak again, only lewd smacks of his balls against your ass and his feral grunts to be heard. his hand finds your throat, and his mouth drops open in response to your sweet moans and impossible beauty. you are perfect. he knew you would be, but your pussy was his personal kryptonite. “you feel so good, anata girl. you look even better, stuffed to the brim.”

he smiles at the double meaning. you are his darling girl, but you are also his exasperating brat. god, he always knew what to say. your jaw falls, gripping his forearms to warn him that you were close. “please—need to cum!”

he hums, nodding his approval, “then cum, okusan.” he commands, deep voice booming. his spine tingles at the idea of you taking your first round of his seed. his hair falls so angelically around his angular features when you open your eyes, it’s the final push over the edge. you choke out a moan, and then your nails are scraping at his biceps, his shoulders and chest, whatever you can get your hands on, and your release is rushing over his dick seconds later.

“are you on birth control?” he groans, feeling his cock twitch in between your wet walls. you shake your head, chest heaving deliciously. “good, let’s see how fertile you are.”

your eyes cross at his statement and his balls feel so heavy, squeezing tight and spurting out their contents against your womb. your head digs into the pillow and his falls back at the feeling of being so full and warm. he keeps his hips rocking, making you gasp with every stroke as he shoves his deposit deeper. You’re both panting when you look at each other, years of unspoken yearning and love being communicated between you. there’s a lot to catch up on, and a lot to relearn about one another, but one thing is certain: this marriage was fated, and not arranged.

#kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #geto suguru #jjk geto #geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru smut #geto x you

429 notes · View notes