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forlix · 2 months

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𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・741 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・chan x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive themes so mdni / 𝗮/𝗻・inspired by our beautiful boy's bbl texts about the nylon shoot. he is so loved. i hope he knows it ♡

𝟬𝟵:𝟬𝟵 — Chan is nervous.

He doesn’t say so out loud. He doesn’t say anything out loud, actually, simply appearing in the kitchen to pluck a slice of toast off the counter. Damp curls dripping into the towel slung around his neck, brushing against your cheek when he leaves a good morning kiss there.

But there’s a squareness in his shoulders. A muted glaze over the brown of his eyes and a tightness in the smile he gives you as he pulls away. The images linger in your vision after he disappears back down the hallway, presumably to get ready for the big day ahead.

Words. There are times when they embrace Chan like orchestral musicians awaiting their conductor’s cue, like sunflowers swiveling eastward in the halcyon morning—but there are other times when they haunt him, like the faceless sea of spectators instead of the hopeful performers, like the shadows that comprise the fathomless night rather than the rays of sun that follow.

You rise out of your seat, a quiet sigh leaving your lips. Chan needs the sun, today.

Inside your bedroom, Chan’s towel sits atop your duvet, right beside the white material of the T-shirt he slept in. The bathroom door is ajar and spilling yellow light onto the hardwood. You nudge it open further.

Free to roam after the towel’s removal, transparent waterdrops pave silvery trails down the sides of Chan’s neck, over the gentle incline of his collarbones and the naked hills of his chest. His palms are pressed flat on either side of the sink, his eyes glued to the mirror before him, his jaw set as squarely in his reflection as it is on his person.

He jumps when your reflection joins his. Parts his lips, prepares to speak. But his whole vernacular evaporates when your hands find his waist, when your breath hits the nape of his neck.

“Baby,” he breathes.

There’s a question embedded in the word. The only answer you give him is the quiet drag of your fingertips down the center of his back. He expels an involuntary shudder, and with it the muscles beneath your touch shift like fields of marigolds tousled by a kindred breeze.

You kiss the highest ridge of his spine, letting your lips linger against the smooth skin for a few moments before doing the same, just below his ear.

“What—” He pauses, swallows. “What are you doing, angel?”

When your hands return to his hips, they request something this time. He complies, lets you turn him around, his lower back meeting the marble with a soft bump.

You bring yourself close to him. Close enough to gauge his blushing cheeks and trembling breath and brown, brown eyes, crossed from trying to look at you. Close enough that you only need slightly dip your head to mould your lips to the hollow right under his jaw.

He moans, the sound melodic and low and quickly muffled by the lower lip he bites down upon. You suck lightly, careful not to leave a mark yet entirely fine with the alternative, then graze your teeth over the tender skin, pull away. You don’t go far, though, as your next destination is his Adam’s apple, which you reach not by boat or by plane but by short, wet kisses that resound in the silent bathroom, that draw from Chan’s throat another gorgeous whine.

As you progress in this fashion, traipsing across the plane of his clavicle, the valley of his pectorals, you want to tell him that he’s beautiful.

He’s beautiful when he laughs so hard that his smile turns boxy and his voice gets all squeaky. He’s beautiful when he’s trying not to cry and his eyes look like mirror pools because he’s failing. He’s beautiful in front of the cameras; he’s beautiful away from them. He’s beautiful always, your Chan, your Chris.

That is what you want to tell him.

But you don’t. Not even when his back hits the mattress moments later and he looks like your every wildest dream come to life underneath you: pupils blown so wide that they’ve swallowed his irises, lips glistening and quivering and inconceivably kissable as he sighs your name, chiseled upper body rippling when he props himself up on his elbows. Straining to look at you as you lower your mouth to his navel, undo the knot of his sweatpants with a gentle tug.

You’ll show him instead.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・@automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8・@weedforthoughtz・@hyunverse

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bleedingoptimism · 1 year

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You Are Mine part 1

When Eddie decided to come out he thought it’d be funny to do so with a music video, so he wrote a song and presented it to the band. The boys loved it and the song was declared the first one of their next album, the third one.

And then it was time to shoot the video.

They hire their personal friend and favorite director, Argyle. Just Argyle, like Cher.

Between him and Argyle they come up with a cool script. The band is going to act in it, they just need two extras, so they hold auditions for a couple in their twenties.

On the day of the auditions, Argyle tells them the interviews are mostly for show, the band can pick whoever they feel the most comfortable with, and the boys tell Eddie he should pick since it’s his song.

The five of them sit at a long table like it’s fucking American Idol or something and just stare at the couples waiting in line through a one-side glass mirror whispering among themselves and watching amused as the couples start getting progressively nervous.

There’s a couple that immediately grabs Eddie's attention when he does a pass-over, a pretty tall dirty blonde and a brunette with big soft-looking hair.

The guy is absolutely gorgeous, with big kind eyes, a straight cute nose, a square jaw, big shoulders, a small waist, and tan skin that seems to be covered in beauty marks.

He just strikes Eddie as someone that would make Michelangelo cry with his inability to capture his perfection.

‘Oh, that’s good. I should write that.’ He thinks.

He and the girl are talking in hush tones and Eddie watches as she fixes his hair while he jabbers nervously and then, evidently says something that makes her angry because she pokes him in the ribs. The guy giggles cutely and loudly enough to carry over to their room and then blushes furiously when heads turn toward them, hiding behind his friend. The woman in question snorts and chuckles as he chastises her.

Eddie stands up, crouches behind Argyle’s chair, and tells him, “I want that one.”

“What?” he answers, so Eddie points at the couple, “I want him.”

Argyle looks at them considering and clicks his tongue and Eddie insists, “Please Argy, please, I love him, I want him, I want that one, pleaseee”

“Eddie, we need to at least consider the rest of them. This is my job we are talking about here. Please, take it seriously” Argyle says in a calm voice and Eddie deflates,

“Dude...I’m sorry I-”

“Nah man, I’m kidding!” Argyle cuts him off, “Couple number four! Please step forward!” he yells into a mike.

The blonde and the brunette look at each other and walk in nervously as Eddie goes back to his seat at the end of the table and Argyle does a small flourishing move with his hand inviting them to introduce themselves.

“Hi! My name is Robin, and this is Steve, pleased to meet you!” The girl says smiling kindly at them. She nudges Steve on the side and he does a little finger wave at them.

Eddie has to bite his lip not to smile too much because they are really fucking cute.

Argyle returns the wave enthusiastically, because nothing ever faces him, and looks at the list he has in his hands, “Any experience acting Robin and Steve?”

Robin says yes, something about drama club in high school and Steve just shrugs which amused Eddie to no end, and frankly makes him really curious, for all intent and purposes, Steve doesn’t seem to be interested in the job.

“How did you find out about this job?” Jeff asks them, and Gareth nods like he was just about to ask the same thing.

“A friend of ours told us about it?” Robin answers “He’s a photographer but I don't want to drop names, especially in case we embarrass ourselves,” she says jokingly and looks relieved when she gets a couple of chuckles from Argyle and the band.

“And you were interested because…?” Frank inquires.

Robin starts saying some carefully prepared speech about learning experiences but is interrupted by Steve saying, “We needed the money”

“Oh my god! Shut up!” Robin suddenly turns to him completely red in the face.

“What? You told me to be myself!” Steve tells her frowning.

“This is exactly why I always talk in interviews”

“What does that mean?”

“You suck at this Steve! Just as much as you suck at-”

Gareth clears his throat loudly making them stop and look at him sheepishly, “So tell us, do you know the band? Are you fans?”

Eddie takes a moment to look at his bandmates and to his relief they all look as amused as he feels, especially Argyle. The couple of newbies is clearly a mess but in an endearing kind of way.

“Well…” Robin starts but doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“Never heard of it,” Steve says looking apologetic.

“Wait, Really?” Robin asks him, once more ignoring the director and the band, “They are like, Mike’s favorite band, man! You never heard of Corroded Coffin?”

“Oh well,” Steve shrugs, “I mostly tune out when Mike is talking so…”

Robin snorts and is about to reply but Argyle raises his hand and they both look at him, flinching a little when they realize they had started talking among themselves again.

“Ok.” Argyle tells them clapping once, “Unfortunately for me, I love your energy my dudes, but I’m going to get serious for a second here: I need you two to be professional ok? We have a budget and a schedule and only three days to shoot and I can’t hire you and find out in the middle of the shoot that you are not okay with making out with someone-”

Robin visibly takes a step back and Steve snorts, “Yeah no, I’m not making out with my sister.”

Eddie, who was wondering what kind of relationship they had, does a little happy dance in his head at that.

“No, I meant one of the members of the band” Argyle answers amused.

Robin takes another step back and actually looks a little disgusted and Eddie tries not to find it offensive, “Me?” she asks unsure.

“No,” Frank answers and points at Steve, “Him.”

Surprisingly, they both relax at that, “Oh!” They exclaim in unison and it’s kind of creepy but again, in an endearing kind of way.

And then Steve looks at them one by one, he’s unmistakably and unashamedly checking them all out and Eddie swears his eyes linger on him the most before he smirks and says, “I’m okay with that”

Eddie immediately pushes the contract laying on the table toward Frank, who pushes it to Gareth, who pushes it to Jeff, who pushes it to Argyle and gives him a pen.

Argyle laughs loudly and shakes the sheet of paper, “Well shit, I guess you are hired.”

“We are?!”

He stands up and shakes their hands, hands them the contract and another paper, “This is the script, not that it has any dialogue but just in case you have any questions.”

They push their heads together and read the script at the same time.

The story is about the band being on tour. Robin and Steve would play as their roadies and the video is supposed to show them in concert, traveling, working, and hanging out. The whole video hints that Eddie is sneaking out with one of them and it ends with the band plus Robin opening a curtain on the tour bus to find Eddie and Steve making out.

The song is called You Are Mine.

When they are done reading, Steve smiles and says “Cute”

And Robin asks, “So which one of you is Eddie?”

Eddie lifts his hand lazily and winks at them.

And Steve, still holding the script, lifts it enough to cover his face but Eddie can still see the tip of his ears as they turn bright red.

‘Oh, he’s gonna eat him alive.’

to be continued

part 1: is this

part 2: ♫

part 3: ♫

part 4: ♫

☕ cafecito?

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #i wrote something #corroded coffin #omg another rockstar eddie au? mimimimi

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strangersmunsons · 3 months

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Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 3 Prompt: Lingerie 🎀 ~ 2,200 words you buy a pretty set of underwear to wear for Eddie. smut, 18+ only: p-in-v sex, spanking (brief), oral/fingering (fem!receiving), nipple play/tit sucking, praise, body worship.

Soft tissue paper crinkles beneath your fingertips as you gently remove each thin layer from the clean, white, department store gift box.

You’re almost afraid to touch it; you’ve never owned anything so pretty and fragile-looking. Up until this point the fanciest underwear you’ve ever worn was a plain bra and panty set from K-Mart.

But this? Whole ‘nother ball game. You imagine Eddie will be very pleased.

The bra is little more than delicately-constructed strips of fabric; creamy satin to line the underside of your breasts, dainty lace to adorn the top, in a display of completely false modesty, as there’s space enough between the two materials for the buds of your nipples to peek through. The waistband of the matching thong is frilled with gentle sprays of lace that will float over the curves of your hips, and there’s a tiny silk bow sewn into the fabric that will cover your mound.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Eddie loves you in anything. That boy could look at you in snow pants and a parka and still succeed in getting a boner. But you felt the time was ripe for you to treat both yourself and him to something special.

You’re aiming for soft, romantic — cherubic, even. Something Valentine’s Day appropriate. When you slip the set on for the first time, and eye yourself in the bedroom’s full-length mirror, you think you’ve definitely achieved that. It fits like a glove; you’ve never felt sexier.

As if he somehow knew exactly what you were up to, Eddie taps on the closed door. “Sweetheart? Are you alright in there?” You don’t usually lock him out of the bedroom.

“Yes,” you call back to him, heart jumping in anticipation. “Just give me one second.”

Steeling yourself, you take a deep breath, cast one last approving glance in the mirror, and open the door for your boyfriend.

Eddie’s mouth, opened to greet you, suddenly snaps shut when he takes in the sight before him. His eyes are huge as he looks you up and down, greedily roaming over every square inch of your body.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Eddie.”

He doesn’t even say anything — just lunges forward and crushes you to him, arms winding around you as tightly as they can go. His full lips press against yours in a searing, bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth and spit. He nips at your bottom lip and licks into your mouth, leaving you breathless, whiny, needy; he walks you backwards, until the backs of your legs hit the side of the bed, and you let yourself fall onto the plush covers.

Eddie covers your body with his own, warm weight adding a delightful pressure against your torso. Automatically your legs wrap around his trim waist, his denim-clad crotch creating delicious friction as it rubs against your own satin-covered core.

He moves away from your mouth, peppering sloppy kisses over your chin and up your jaw, then all over your neck until he finds that little sweet spot that makes you keen. One fist tangles in his hair, and you give a gentle tug to the curly locks. Eddie moans into the hollow of your throat.

With your lips now free, you manage, “Do you like it, then?”

Eddie’s head whips up, like he’s shocked you have to ask. “Hell yes. You look fucking gorgeous.”

Willing himself to gain some self-control, Eddie slows his pace. He peels himself away from you with reluctance, standing back up, and motions with his index finger for you to spin around. “Hands and knees, baby. Wanna see that pretty ass in the air.”

You scramble to the center of the bed on all fours. Once in position, Eddie runs his fingertips down your back, brushing lightly down your spine and back up again, making you shiver. Then he flattens his warm, calloused palms against your skin, rubbing in one smooth motion from your shoulders to your bottom, grasping each bare cheek in his hands and giving them a tight squeeze. “So pretty,” he croons, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to each one. “You’re my angel, you know that?”

You already feel flushed, dizzy, intoxicated by his praise and the feel of his hands, and the sensation of a single, curly tendril falling from over his shoulder and brushing against the back of your thigh. Eddie lets go of one cheek and runs a finger over the back piece of the frilly thong, toying lightly with the fabric nestled between your cheeks. You suck in a sharp breath as his finger dances along the crevice.

“I like this,” he muses, then wallops a firm slap! against your ass. Nothing brutal — hard enough to bring the blood to the surface of the skin, warm and stinging, but not so hard that you’re writhing in pain.

It’s like giving you a kiss, really.

He spanks the other cheek and you let out a little yelp. Eddie rubs the skin soothingly, easing the pain away. Then he pulls the crotch of your panties aside, already warm and sticky with arousal. Mouth positively watering, the heady, pungent scent of your sex filling his nostrils, he leans in, and starts teasing you with little kitten-licks, cleaning away the soft wetness leaking out of your cunt.

You moan wantonly, burying your face into the downy bed cover.

Eddie’s hands grasp at your hips, your ass, your thighs, anything that’ll keep him steady while he eats you out from behind like a man starved. His tongue picks up speed, alternating between broad stripes and precise, intricate patterns with the tip of his tongue, which dips inside of you, and after a few shallow thrusts, is replaced with a finger, then two. His mouth latches onto your clit, lips sealing around the sweet little bud, sucking gently while his thick fingers pump in and out of you, curling just so.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he groans against the slick flesh, “my sweet girl.” He lavishes a series of rapid, sucking kisses against your clit, and you fall to pieces.

“Eddie!”

Skin alight and tingly, panting heavily, you push recklessly back against Eddie’s face and he lets you do as you will, helping you ride out your orgasm. “That’s it, baby,” he encourages, words muffled by your cunt, “cum for me.”

As you come back down, your bones feel soft and spongy; you’re drowning in oxytocin and dopamine, floating in that sweet, dreamy space that only Eddie can take you to. He moves the underwear back into place, and rearranges your pliant limbs so you’re no longer on your hands and knees, but lying comfortably on your back. He shimmies out of his clothes quickly, shucking off the black jeans and t-shirt in record time. When he pulls his boxers down, his cock springs free, red and weeping; he jerks himself with a few quick tugs. You moisten your lips involuntarily at the sight, and move to sit up, eyes locked onto his heavy balls and girthy shaft.

But Eddie has other plans. “You can suck me off later, if you want to, princess.” He grins salaciously. “But right now I need to be inside you.”

He climbs on the bed, crawling between your legs, and turns his focus to your breasts. He lavishes the same attention on your tits as he did your ass, fondling them in the soft, barely-there cups, swiping his thumbs into the space where your nipples are exposed, pinching lightly, rolling them between his fingers.

The bra comes off, and he doesn’t hesitate to take a pebbled nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. When he’s finished with one, he kisses his way across your chest to the other. “Love these tits so much,” he mumbles into the swell of your breast before sucking the next one into his mouth, making sure he shows it the amount of same love. He looks up at you with big puppy eyes, and your fingers weave securely into his hair while he sucks.

Releasing your breast with a wet, almost-comical pop, he straightens back up and pinches the waistband of your panties between two fingers. Slowly, agonizingly, he pulls them down, baring you completely. Cool air hits your sticky, aching middle, and your legs tremble in anticipation.

The curls on your pubic mound have gone soft, dampened with sweat and arousal; he strokes them with loving fingers before continuing to pull the underwear down your thighs, past your knees and calves, until they’re completely off. He bites his full bottom lip, eyeing your cunt. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he promises you. Then he brings the panties up to his nose and sniffs delicately.

You squeal and kick at him playfully with one foot. He catches your ankle and snickers, pressing a quick kiss to your heel. “What? I like how you smell. I like how you taste, how you sound, how you look…” he trails off, staring at your body beneath him with lovestruck eyes. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He runs his hands down your sides in admiration, feeling every curve and crevice and dimple and bump, and loving all of them.

“So are you.”

He reaches out to cup your face with one hand. You lay your own hand on top of his and sigh, hoping you can feel this way with him forever.

Eddie twines his fingers through yours, and presses your interlocked hands into the mattress beside your head. He lays over top of you, settling in slowly, all franticness from earlier gone. He rubs his body against yours, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss, savoring the feeling, both of you letting out soft moans at the sensation of his hard cock slipping against your wet folds.

He tucks his face into the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Y’ready, sweetheart?”

“Yes, please…”

“Good girl. So polite.” Eddie lines himself up and slips inside of you, pushing in slowly, giving you time to adjust to his length. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone, breathing heavily into the skin. When you moan, and clutch at his shoulders, he understands that you’re giving him permission to speed up. His hips start to rock into yours a little bit faster, a little bit harder.

You move in tandem. The bed creaks. The two of you are a mere tangle of limbs; holding each other this close, it’s impossible to tell where your body ends and Eddie’s begins.

You whimper at the feeling of his thick cock pumping in and out of you, stretching you out in an exhilarating mix of pleasure-almost-pain. “Tha’s it, baby, let me hear you. Wanna hear all your pretty noises,” Eddie says, voice ragged. “Let me know how good it feels.”

“Feels so good, Eddie,” you tell him brokenly, thoroughly fucked-out. “Feels so big.”

At that, his thrusts become sloppier. “Yeah? My cock makin’ you all nice and full?” He snakes a hand down to your clit, rubbing it with his thumb. He knew the second he saw you in that getup he wasn’t gonna last long — honestly, he’s surprised he made it this far with blowing his load.

With the added stimulation over your sensitive bud, you’re nearly there. The scent of sex, spiced body wash, and tobacco invade your senses, so all you can think of is Eddie. The muscles of your abdomen tighten, the walls of your cunt clenching around Eddie’s cock — you’re teetering on the precipice of climax. Eddie wants it like nothing he’s ever wanted before.

His lips at your ear. “Give me one more sweetheart you’re so close I can feel it —”

A second orgasm overtakes you, pleasure bolting from your core in every direction. You cry out, biting into his shoulder, nails digging crescent-moons into his back. He holds you tightly and works you through it, concentrating on your release, though his own is right on its heels.

It’s too much. “Kiss me,” he begs, and then, not waiting for an answer, desperately seals his mouth to yours, so urgently that it’s merely a collision of lips and noses. Equally drunk on you as you are on him, amidst the aftershocks of your own pleasure, Eddie finally lets himself go. The taut rubber band inside of him finally snaps — he cums as deep inside of you as he can with a guttural groan, curling his body around yours, hips stuttering an uneven rhythm.

The rush fades slowly, and Eddie slumps against you, pulling his cock out when it eventually softens, which wrenches another sigh from you. You both lie there together and pant, waiting for your heart rates to slow. Eddie’s warm seed starts to trickle out, adding to the wet mess between your legs.

Eddie dots a few hazy kisses to your neck, and you push the sweaty hair back from his perfect face.

With some effort, he lifts his head up, and his eyes find yours. He shoots you an exhausted grin. “You’re too good, baby. How’d I get so lucky?”

You laugh, knowing he did most of the work. “I could ask you the same thing.”

His smile softens, becoming a besotted, giddy thing. He takes your face in between his two hands, thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“I love you,” he pecks at your lips, “so fucking much.”

“I love you too, Eddie.”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #in retrospect. this feels like a missed opportunity to put eddie in lingerie again :(

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inkdrinkerworld · 2 months

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dick always says he's not the type of guy to get jealous, but we all notice how he looks at guys who stare at your tits for too long when you're in a pretty dress at those fancy dinner parties(( all he wants to do is rip the dress of you but instead he has to spend the night talking to old rich people and his siblings

Cw: a little suggestive 18+ ONLY

He’s seething, though he’s really trying not to. You look gorgeous and men are staring, how is that your fault?

It isn’t. It just pisses Dick off because he can’t even have his arm around you for ten minutes without someone coming up to talk to him about the event, Waynecorp or something similar.

God he hates these events even more now.

“Baby, I’m gonna go get a refill want anything?” You tinkle your empty glass as he comes back from the longest conversation he’s ever been in about Bruce’s multiple foundations that Damien had saved him from.

“No, stay here a minute?” You’re leaning against a counter, and Dick wastes no time pressing himself close to you.

You’re in deep purple dress that sits on you perfectly, it makes your legs look long, and your hips sway just so, but most hypnotic of all is the way it hugs your chest- a square neckline that gives you the best cleavage and if he wasn’t your boyfriend, Dick would’ve felt gross for staring at your chest all night.

“What’s wrong?” Your hand rubs his back though you desperately want to run it through his gelled back hair.

“Nothing,” he breathes in your perfume, intoxicated all over again. His lips press at your neck and jaw, knowing if he were to kiss your lips he’d mess up your make up- it’s happened a few too many times in the past.

For all the years you’ve been together, you know Dick very well, and you know he’s at his breaking point with the gala.

“You look so perfect,” he whispers, eyes roving your face as though he’d forget how you looked tonight the second you were back home. “Too perfect,” he continues and you smirk. “Everyone in here is looking at you and I want to gouge their eyes out.”

You laugh then and Dick smiles. “Baby.” You huff and he shrugs.

“It’s not a problem per se, it’s just that I can’t do anything about it because everyone wants to talk to me and I have no time for the real fun.” His eyebrows dance and you roll your eyes.

“Which is what, Grayson?” You know exactly what he’s talking about.

“You, me, in a bathroom stall. No clothes.” You feel heat pool in your belly and it’s obvious Dick can tell too. If his smug face is anything to go by.

“Kiss me?” Your hands are playing with the lapels on his tux, eyes fluttering and Dick can’t deny the call of your mauve lips.

The kiss is hot and charged and Dick’s hands fall to your neck and the back of your head, keeping you close till you have to pull away from your breathlessness.

“Fuck gorgeous,” he mutters, his thumb rubbing your bottom lip. “We’ll leave soon, yeah?” His hands fall to your waist and squeezes, a soft groan leaving his throat as he feels you shiver a little.

You nod, a little dazed, lips chasing his one last time and Dick indulges you till he hears someone clearing their throats behind you.

“Grayson, stop mauling your girlfriend and come mingle. Bruce is up my ass about where you are.” Damien gives you a little wave and you flush, even more so when you realise Dick has stolen some of your lipstick.

“Dick your lips.” You mutter, reaching in your purse for wipes.

“It’s fine gorgeous, I’ll be twenty minutes and then we’re out of here.” He kisses your forehead and is gone again and you can’t help but pull out a mirror to take a peak at your lips and smile when you see that your lipstick is all at your chin.

#dickgrayson #dick grayson #dick grayson one shot #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson blurb #dick grayson drabble #dick grayson fluff #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x black reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson fic #dick grayson x yn #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x gender neutral reader

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ddejavvu · 8 months

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okay so you are quite literally my favorite writer on tumblr😭🫶🏾 and i’m not entirely sure if you’ve written a fic like this before but if you haven’t i’d like to make a request: any of our core 3 bau men (aaron, spence, or derek) reacting to gf!reader wearing that pheromone perfume stuff. you can make it smutty if you’d like since from what i’ve seen, guys tend to have ✨that✨ kind of reaction to it.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

You meet Derek at the kitchen counter with a kiss, reaching up to take his tie from between his fingers and tie it yourself. He claims you're much better at it than he is, but you think he purposefully doesn't practice so that you do it for him.

"Thank you, gorgeous," He beams down at you, a charming expression that you can rarely ever hold eye contact during. It's intimidating to look him in the eyes even after all this time as his partner, because he's just so handsome you get nervous.

He knows that you're feeling especially bashful when you duck your forehead down, and he chuckles warmly as he kisses it. You're just tugging the knot tight on his tie when his nose brushes against your temple, and he trails down lower towards your ear.

"Now hold on," He murmurs, a large hand coming to press flush to your jaw. He tilts your head to the side, nose ticklish as he nudges it into your neck and inhales deeply.

"What is that?" He asks, and his voice possesses none of that typical teasing that's present when your cheeks are flushed hot like they are now. He's intent on receiving an answer, he's not just messing with you.

"What is what?" You try appearing coy, "My deodorant?"

"No, no, don't mess with me. Your deodorant smells like- mm, berries, or something," He frowns, shaking his head, "This is different. You put perfume on, mama?"

"A little," You bashfully admit, "I thought you might like it."

"I like it," He answers right away, zero hesitation in his voice as he tilts his head even further into the expanse of your neck. You feel him breathing you in and you grip the countertop behind you for balance when it feels like his weight is too much for you to handle.

"Jesus, baby, I really-" He groans, squaring his hips against yours against the counter, "I mean I really like it. What time is our reservation?"

"6:45." You recite, and he barely takes his head out of your neck to check his watch. 6:10.

"There's a 15-minute grace period," He decides, his large and eager hands grabbing hungrily at your waist as he lifts you up and onto the countertop. His hand moves to your thighs then, thumb slipping between them and wedging them apart, "Open up, pretty girl, I'm in the mood for an appetizer."

#derek morgan x reader #derek morgan imagine #derek morgan scenario #derek morgan oneshot #derek morgan one-shot #derek morgan one shot #derek morgan headcanon #derek morgan headcanons #derek morgan hc #derek morgan hcs #derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan fanfic #derek morgan fic #derek morgan blurb #derek morgan drabble #derek morgan dialogue #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan x reader fanfiction

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amongemeraldclouds · 2 months

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better than revenge | chapter four: lights, camera, and…

Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader (ft. Ex!Mattheo Riddle)

Series trope: Fake dating

Chapter four summary: Cue plan to bother Mattheo at a Slytherin party. It works just a little too well.

Warning: Alcohol, swearing, angst, slight violence, blood, minor injury, characters are aged up, no use of y/n. Reader acts annoying as part of the plan.

♡ main masterlist

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“Are you ready for phase one of The Book?” Enzo asks.

I raise my fifth glass of firewhisky. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I gulp it down and let the heat settle in my system.

“How’s my outfit?” I ask.

He eyes me again in my black leather skirt and black lace top, his throat bobbing. “Gorgeous as always. You’ll be fine, I can fight,” he reassures me and I smile at him.

I grab his arm and we head off to the Slytherin party. I don’t miss the eyes that drift towards me, making my skin crawl. Enzo notices my discomfort and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “You okay?” He checks in.

I lean into him and nod. “Mattheo’s over there,” I point my chin to a dark corner of the room where a girl lights his cigarette.

We casually circle around and by the time we near, the girl is all over Mattheo.

Enzo whispers to me, “lights, camera, and…”

“ZOZO, you have the softest hair!” I squeal as I run my hand through Enzo’s hair.

He laughs a full laugh, caught off guard by the nickname. He sits on the nearby sofa and I trip on my way, the firewhisky hitting harder than I expected.

Enzo catches my waist in time, bringing me to his lap. “You have got to stop falling for me, dear,” he says.

I blush. “Maybe I don’t want to,” I giggle. Enzo shakes his head, brushing off my firewhisky declaration.

“You like my hair?” He asks as he runs his fingers through my hair. He then pushes it behind my left shoulder, exposing my neck.

“It’s the best!” I exclaim and he plants soft kisses on my neck as I giggle. “That tickles, Zozo!”

I look over at Mattheo. He tries to hide it, but I notice his clenched jaw and the fire in his eyes.

“What do you think, Mathay-to? Or is it potay-to?” I ask, giggling. “Doesn’t my Zozo have perfect hair?”

“I’m not going to even dignify that with an answer,” he grumbles.

“You’re no fun,” I pout at him.

I turn back to Enzo, “Zozo, I want to dance!”

He releases his hold as I stand up and climb on to the table. Enzo leans back into the sofa to watch me with a lazy grin on his face. I move my hips to the beat of the song, eyes locked on his as he dares me to go further.

I move my hands to my top, teasing the lace as I bring it up and —

Gravity shifts and I’ve hit a hard wall. What the hell? The world spins and I realize I’m moving, a hand cradled down my ass. Enzo? I’m hit with the familiar scent of mint, cigarettes and cologne. It’s Mattheo.

He grabbed my legs from the table and swung me over his shoulder. Mattheo Riddle is holding me.

I missed his touch and yet everything feels so wrong. I pound my hands on his back. “Put me down!”

The music fades as he brings me to the hallway, setting me down against a column to lean on for support.

“What the hell happened to you?” He demands.

You did.

“None of your business,” I bite back.

Enzo approaches us enraged and Mattheo charges toward him, grabs the collar of his shirt and shoves him. “What the fuck were you thinking? Why did you let her drink?”

“She can make her own decisions and she wanted to. Besides, she’s safe with me,” Enzo snaps.

Mattheo throws the first punch and Enzo responds, catching him square in the jaw.

“What? You care about her now?” Enzo asks Mattheo, blood spilling from his split lip.

“Stop it!” I scream.

He shoves Mattheo away, “stay away from my girl! You had your chance. I can take care of her better than you can.”

I run into Enzo’s arms. “Please stop, let’s go,” tears spill down my cheeks.

He wraps his arm around me and we head back to his dorm.

I dry my eyes as he opens the door. “Come here, let me heal you,” I lead him to the bed and cast episkey to cure his split lip. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

He shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry this happened, I didn’t mean—” I start, tears welling up my eyes again.

“Hey,” Enzo cups my face. “You’ve met Mattheo, right? We’ve thrown punches for lesser reasons.”

I lean into his touch and let out a small laugh, “hmm so phase one was a success?”

“Did you see the look on his face?” Enzo grins.

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♡ main masterlist

A/N: I love cliches. A lot of my writing is influenced by early 2000s movies and rom-com novels. Writing these is such a guilty pleasure.

I actually wrote the next chapter before this, but this makes more sense as chapter four.

Taglist: @hoeforvinniehackerrr @i-think-you-are-gr8 @thecraziestcrayon @adreamingpendulum @themarauderswife7 @midsoulz @ultramarinetovelvet @val-writes @lafrone @daisiesformylove @mildly-delulu @allebasi05 @enha-stan @skb4000 @nat1221

#lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheoxreader #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #slytherin x reader #slytherin x slytherin #amongemeraldcloudswrites

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rymndsmth · 2 years

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kyoto (tangerine)

you catch the attention of a certain passenger.

warnings: 18+

You lightly drummed the end of your pencil onto the blank page, following slightly off-key with the music that blasted through your earphones. Next stop, Kyoto. You hoped there was a life in the new city that made you forget all the mess in Tokyo. It wasn’t supposed to end up like this…

A shake of the head brought you back into the car, bright lights bouncing from the window your head leaned on. The scenery outside blurred by with how quickly that train was going, meshed into a kaleidoscope of muddy colors. It left you with nothing to draw on this stupid page, no inspiration at all.

Though supposedly and hopefully sturdy, you felt that ground beneath your feet rumble to the tune of footsteps. Also, oddly, in time with your music. The thunderous vibrations rose, echoing in your chest, and throat as you peered up to see the source striding down the aisle.

There were people who were good looking, and then there were people like him. Those who had to have grown annoyed a long time ago at the gaping they surely received daily. The kind of people who were so devastatingly gorgeous, others doubted if they were even people at all.

Your fingers pinched your pencil. Inspiration found.

The handsome and equally well-dressed man took a seat a few places up in your direct eye line. You wasted no time running the tip of lead across the paper, as if it were your fingers running along the chiseled edges of his jaw, the high rises of his cheekbones. His beautiful lips and straight nose. And lots, and lots of gorgeous dark hair that was slicked back.

Blue eyes pierced into yours a few times, catching you in a near fugue state. The awkwardness at being discovered staring had disappeared long ago for you, hazards of the job and all that jazz you guessed. A small smirk appeared on his lips the third time it happened as he said something to his companion all the while looking at you.

The picture you’d sketched was rough, but it was good. You were never going to get likeness that perfect on a page, but it was enough for you to be satisfied. Beneath your feet, the ground shook again and when you rose your head, he was sliding into the seat across from yours. You took your headphones off, intrigued.

“Lovely evening isn’t it?” His voice was melodic, more playful than you imagined.

“Yeah, I think so.” You nodded.

“What-is that me?” Those icy eyes widened as they fell to the picture under your hand.

A bit of bashfulness flooded through you. Getting caught staring was one thing, but having the subject see your drawing of them was another. You laughed lightly as you spun the sketchpad for him to see. You couldn’t help but drink in his ring covered hands. Long, thick fingers skimming the lines on the page.

“I’m a bit embarrassed if I’m honest.” He smiled.

“Oh, I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” You blurbed, panic blooming in your chest.

“No, it’s not that!” One of his large hands came down on yours. “It’s just here I was thinkin’ you were staring at me because…”

You tilted your head, swallowing. “Because?”

“Because you thought I was attractive.” He bit his lip, and shook his head. “It’s silly, I know.”

“Not at all.” You responded a bit too quickly to be considered cool.

That seemed to amuse him. It should’ve been apparent to you at that moment, but you still found yourself none the wiser that you had played right into his hand. He leaned back in his seat, exposed chest protruding even more from his shirt. The light sheen of sweat despite the cool air, the golden pendant swinging low.

“Yeah, and why’s that?” His brow quirked.

“You are attractive. Very.” You squared your shoulders, deciding to own your confidence.

“I know. Just wanted to hear you say it, love.” He flashed a brilliant smile. “Name’s Tangerine, by the way.”

Obviously, that was not his god given name. But if that was what he wanted you to call him, you would. You would call him anything he asked you to. And it was at that moment, you fully realized.

“Y/N.” You breathed.

“Y/N, my little artist.” Tangerine rolled your name on his tongue as if he was tasting it. “What am I to do with you?”

A lot of thoughts crossed your mind, all of them jump scares for your parents. The one that screamed that loudest was that you were most definitely insane for even considering the rest. But then again, what was one last bit of chaos before your new life, right? It couldn’t hurt to go out with, well, a bang.

You leaned forward onto your forearms, eyes raking shamelessly from his strong thighs all the way up to his face. His nostrils flared lightly and it stirred something in you. The man looked like he was ready to fly across the table and pounce on you, your ego was doing goddamn cartwheels.

“You can do whatever you want.” The words left your lips without a second thought.

Tangerine inhaled and nodded. He rose from the seat to his full height, towering over you as he stepped into the aisle. His blue eyes held yours for a moment when he paused, a hand placed on your shoulder.

He let it lazily slip off as he continued to walk. Your head craned, following his movements until he disappeared into one of the restrooms. There was literally never going to be another opportunity like this. You knew that, hell, the fucking Pope knew too.

It didn’t wake much if any courage at all to get to your feet and follow the path he’d taken. You opened the door just wide enough for your body to slip in, and locked it shut behind you. Tangerine took a seat on the closed lid, his legs spread as wide as they could in the tight space.

“Come here.” He beckoned you with two fingers.

An invisible thread pulled you, your feet moving without thinking. They carried you to his lap which you straddled in one fluid motion. His skin was hot beneath your hands as you slid them up his chest. His touch travelled over your stomach, exposed by your cropped sweater, and upwards. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip, cradling your face.

And then he kissed you, just a peck. It was like the first spark of a stubborn lighter, making you shaky with the excitement to get your fix. Then came the second which was the long sweep of his lips over yours, a pull that left you chasing his mouth when it broke. Finally, there was fire.

You opened your mouth to his tongue, a satisfied moan at the contact leaving you. Your hips bucked into his, grinding the erection in his pants to life. He grabbed them greedily, pressing you closer to his body as his hot mouth moved over yours.

“I bet you’re already so wet for me.” Tangerine rasped.

His words hit you in that molten pit that was forming in your lower stomach. He slipped a hand into the band of your pants and panties. Two digits slid into your folds, your eyes fluttering shut as he rolled your slick between them.

“Fuckin’ hell…” He panted, moving down to suck your neck.

You ran your hands through his hair, rutting yourself over his fingers. It was getting harder and harder to control the noises that left your mouth. Being in here like this with someone life him, it was unbelievable. You knew it was real, but it felt too good to be true. It was literally going to drive you over the edge.

Your grip in his hair tightened as he began to circle your clit. The other hand you had free fell back to his knee, holding on for dear life as you felt heat rise in your body. It tickled your throat, mouth chanting yes yes yes until you were suddenly robbed of all contact.

“Only way you’re gonna cum is on my cock.” He tutted at your annoyance. “Now lose the trousers and let me fuck you.”

You were uncharacteristically obedient as you rose to your feet again to meet his demand. While you did that, he loosened his buckle and freed his cock. It was more considerable than you though it would be, causing you to swallow at the sight. Once you’d discarded your pants, you got back onto his lap.

Tangerine collected some of your wetness and used it to stroke himself before lining up with your entrance. You held onto his strong shoulders as you sank down, mouth parting with the burning stretch of your walls taking him in. He groaned, twitching inside you.

“It’s so fucking deep.” You gasped, eyes rolling back on their own.

“You’re gonna take me so good, aren’t you love?” He kissed you.

You nodded, dropping your forehead to his. Tangerine’s arms looped around your thighs, holding your hips so that he could help you move up and down his length. Your fingers dug into his upper back as you took more and more of him until you rested flush against him.

When he raised you almost to the tip again, you arched your back. On your own, you began to ride him, finding a good rhythm that had you picking up where you left off. You felt that fire as you bounced on his cock, breaths leaving in pants the more it burned.

“I’m gonna-I’m-“ You choked out.

“That’s it, baby.” He thrusted upwards. “Cum for me.”

You growled out a cry, upper body collapsing onto his as you chased and finally hit your peak. Your hips stuttered over his, your mouth pressed into his jacket to muffle the whimpers that came with each wave.

Tangerine suddenly stood up. You instantly wrapped your legs and arms around him, his mouth warm and needy on yours as he pressed you to the wall. His hips snapped forward powerfully, rocking you into the surface and knocking the air from your lungs.

“So tight around me, look at you.” He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth before dropping his eyes.

You followed them and moaned. The sight of your walls gripping him, coating his cock in your juices as he slid in and out of your soaking pussy was insanely erotic. He wrapped his arms around your knees, opening you up even more and penetrating deeper than before.

“Shit! Yes, please…” You writhed.

“Please what?” Tangerine grunted.

“Please keep fucking me like that.” You found yourself smiling, in a state of delirium as he hit your sweet spot over and over.

“Wanna be fucked like this, huh?” He chuckled, fingers tightening around your thighs.

“Yes, don’t stop!” Your breath hitched.

Tangerine picked up his pace, your bodies banging into the wall thump thump thump louder and louder each time. It hit you rather belatedly that you were probably supposed be to keeping it down. How could you though? Not when a man who was basically a demigod was fucking your brains out beyond your wildest fantasies.

Your lips met his neck, sucking the soft salty skin. You ran your tongue along the metal of his chain, the bitterness hitting with a pang as you collected it in your mouth until the pendant lay flat against the muscle.

His hooded blue eyes looked down into your own, fluttering at the sight of you like this all for him. For the first time there was a falter in his thrusts. He fought his way through your tightening walls, pelvis snapping with bruising force into yours as you came again.

Tangerine had three strokes left before he pulled out, spilling his hot cum across your stomach. You ran your fingers through his brown locks as he kissed you like he was still trying to devour you while he eased your feet to the ground.

“Where’s your stop?” He asked as he wet a few paper towels and handed them to you.

“Kyoto.” You accepted them.

A hint of disappointment managed to creep into your bones despite the massive high you were on. As quickly as the moment came, it left. You wished you had more time with him. To at least be able to have him for a few more rounds. A hope that fully blossomed into anticipation when he replied:

“I’ll see you there then.”

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train #tangerine bullet train #fics.n #new hyperfixation yeooww

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blackshadowswriter · 1 year

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hi I wanna request where matt is about stressed out from work and his night activities and the reader (she/she pronouns) tries to help him out by riding him but she can't since he's so big, so matt says stuff like "what? can't even ride a cock? you dumb slut need me to fuck you?". and he just absolutely ruins her, hope you have a good day, thanks:)

Destressed┃Matt Murdock

Summary: Matt is stressed out about work, so naturally you do the one thing that helps him unwind. You ride him until he fucks you himself.

Warnings: smut: oral sex (male receiving), rough p in v sex, dom!Matt, degradation, bit of a taste kink, choking, dirty talk, and all the good stuff

Words: 3,068

AN: After like a month of not posting, I present this utter whore of a fic to all you thirsty bitches (it's me, I'm those thirsty bitches). Thanks for the request, anon, and I just want to let you know that I spat out my water when I got it.

You found him on the sofa with a pile of braille papers scattered around him and his computer on his lap. He had a frown edged on his face, the absence of his shaded glasses exposing the tightness around his eyes. Wound up with stress, his shoulders were squared as he slumped over several stacks of paperwork along with more on his laptop.

"Hey," you called out to him, gently shutting his apartment door behind you, dropping your bag by the door and making your way over to him.

"Hey, sweetheart," Matt murmured, looking distracted as he lifted his head from his work. "What are you doing here so early? I thought you weren't coming by until later."

"I brought you dinner," you explained, setting the takeout bag on his counter before padding over to him.

"I could smell that," he said, picking up a few stacks of paper and setting them on the side table to make room for you on the couch next to him. "But I thought you didn't get off work until later tonight."

You shrugged, settling down on the couch besides him and reaching over to kiss him. An eager groan rippled from his throat into your mouth at your touch as you lightly ran your hands through his soft, dark locks. "Got off early," you said when you pulled away to examine Matt in more detail, frowning at the terseness of his form. "You looked stressed."

He huffed out a humorless laugh. "I am," he agreed. "We had three more clients come in today. That's only adding to the pile we already had."

"Can I help?" you asked sympathetically.

Matt shook his head. "It's okay, we'll get through them. We always do."

You sighed, leaning over to kiss him again. "I don't like it when you're stressed," you admitted. "It's not good for you."

He shrugged, and you had to admit telling the man who beat people up every night that stress was not good for him sounded kinda stupid. "I'll be fine," he said, looking very much not fine. The dark circles under his eyes told you he hadn't been sleeping much. His shoulders were tight as though his workload were a physical weight on them. He hadn't shaved in a few days, so you could run your fingers along his jaw and feel the scrape of his stubble against your hand.

It was utterly unfair, you decided, how Matt could still look so gorgeous even when he was tired and stressed out. You didn't look half this hot when you were stressed. But this scruffy, slightly rumpled look on Matt had you so weak in the knees, you were lucky that you were sitting. He was still in his white dress shirt from work, the top few buttons of it undone and his tie loosened around his neck. He looked so entirely fuckable.

You blinked, surprised by your own thoughts. Jesus, where did that come from? Well, it wasn't your fault, not when Matt was sitting there looking like that.

As if sensing where your thoughts had turned, Matt tilted his head towards you, a little smirk lifting the corners of his lips up. He reached over, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you towards him. "What's gotten into that pretty little head of yours, hmm?" he asked, grinning at your hands tugging at his tie.

"I think I know a way I can help you destress," you said sweetly, dragging your nails down his hard abs, half drooling at the way his dress shirt stretched across the muscular expanse of his chest.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his large hands sliding up your shirt to glide along your skin slowly. There was a hungry gleam in his dark eyes as he licked his lips slowly. "What's that?"

You smiled coyly, reaching over to pluck his laptop from his hands and place it on the side table before climbing onto his lap. "Oh," you giggled, dragging the word out even as your hands swiftly unbuckled his pants. "I don't know."

Matt groaned when you unzipped his dress pants and slid your hand down to palm at his hardening length. "Careful, sweetheart," he warned, his grip tightening on your waist. "You might just get what you want."

Worming out of his grasp, you sank down to your knees in front of him, biting back another laugh. Keeping your eyes fixed on Matt's blank ones that were focused somewhere around your lips, you carefully tugged his pants and his boxers down to his thighs, wrapping your hand around his thick cock. "Maybe I want that," you replied sweetly.

Before Matt could reply, you licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, and his hips jerked up eagerly, a whispered curse falling from his lips. You swirled your tongue over the head of his cock and the precum dripping from the tip, licking the taste of him up into your mouth. In no mood for your teasing tonight, Matt groaned harshly, his hand knotting in your hair to push your head down towards his cock.

You obeyed, giving him what he wanted and taking as much of his throbbing length into your mouth as you could manage. The throaty moan that Matt let out at the wet, hot embrace of your mouth went straight to your dripping cunt, making you squeeze your thighs together tightly.

The slick noise of your mouth sliding up and down his cock echoed through Matt's living room like a filthy melody in his ears. He panted, rolling his hips up eagerly against you as you took him deeper until he was nearly down your throat. You kept up the pace, dragging your mouth along his cock and swirling your tongue around the head, sending thick molten lines of pleasure arcing down his spine. Rough groans and stuttering pants fell from Matt's mouth when you sped up the slick motions of your mouth along his deliciously thick cock.

"Ah! F-fuck," he stammered, his hand tightening in your hair, the hot pulses of pleasure up and down his cock coming dangerously close to his climax. "Fuck," he hissed again, tugging your head back off his cock. "Get up here, sweetheart."

You hurried to obey, climbing up onto his lap and straddling him. Left in only your panties, you slowly ground your cunt against his cock, dragging the soaked fabric against the burning line of him. Matt moaned with you, his large hands sliding up your body to cup your breasts, flicking his fingers over your hardened nipples. You whimpered quietly, your rhythm stuttering for the slightest moment.

Matt tugged at your panties. "Get these off," he growled.

You hasten to obey, peeling your wet panties off your legs and tossing them aside, uncaring of where they ended up. When you straddled Matt again, your dripping cunt hovering just inches over his thick cock, he stopped from sinking down onto him and dragged his fingers along your slit in a slow, aching line that had you whimpering and bucking your hips into his hand at the way his fingertips just barely grazed your clit. But after just one stroke up your cunt, Matt pulled his fingers away despite your desperate whine and brought them up to his lips.

And oh, you nearly collapsed as you watched him drag his tongue along the glistening slick from you on his fingers, watched the way his eyes rolled back into his head at the taste of you, watched his face morphing into one of utter bliss, the filthiest moan falling from his lips as he sucked your wetness off his fingers.

"Oh my God," you whimpered, trembling at the sight in front of you.

"Sweetheart," Matt rumbled when he removed his fingers from his mouth. "You taste so good."

"Fuck," you panted. "Shit—y-you have no idea how fucking hot that was."

A sinful smirk curved along his lips as his hand found its way back to your waist. "Yeah?" he murmured, brushing his thumb along the inside of your thigh, the minimal contact driving you insane. "Why don't you show me then, hmm? Ride my cock for me, pretty girl."

You didn't think you had ever obeyed an order faster in your life. Hurriedly, you were grasping his thick, heavy cock in your hand, lining him up against your entrance, and slowly sinking down onto him. A ragged moan was all either of you could manage with the slick, deliciously hot pleasure pushing into you and engulfing him.

An embarrassingly loud moan slipped from your mouth at the way Matt filled you up so perfectly when you sank all the way down on him. He was panting too, nothing but blazing fire and heat burning in his eyes as you took every single inch of his cock. The stretch of him felt so deliciously good, finally satiating the ache in your core.

"Matty," you gasped, unable to move for a moment as you tried to accustom yourself to his massive girth. "I—ah!—fuck, you're so big—"

"Thought I told you to ride my cock, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice dark and low when you didn't move for another few seconds. He leaned forward to brush his lips against your ear, hot breath drifting over the side of your neck. "Don't you want to be a good girl for me?"

"Y-yes," you whined. "God yes, please Matty."

His hand slithered up and grasped your chin in his large hand as Matt smiled, slow and dangerous as a predator. "Then ride my fucking cock," he ordered.

With a low whimper vibrating along your throat, you forced yourself to move even though your legs felt like jelly. Lifting yourself off his throbbing length as far as you could, you sank back down quickly onto him, moaning eagerly as you tried to ride him faster and harder.

But fuck, he was so big, and each time you ground back down on his cock, he stretched you open until you felt impossibly wide, nearly split open in the best way possible at how fucking thick he was inside of you. Your hips stuttered with your shaky rhythm as shuddering moans racked your body.

Matt's grip on your waist was almost painfully tight as you fucked yourself on his cock, his plush lips falling open slightly with each rock of your hips. He groaned out stammered praises of your name, the syllables rolling off his tongue like a sweet melody.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he panted. "That's it, you're doing so well for me. Riding my cock so well, baby."

"M-Matty," you whimpered when you rolled your hips down onto him again, and the tip of his cock grazed against something overwhelming inside of you. A broken moan spilled from your lips as your pace faltered on shaking legs, trying to accommodate his thick, aching length. "I-I need you to—to fuck me, please."

He let out a rough laugh at that, gripping your chin and yanking your head down to look at him, eyes dark and burning with liquid heat as Matt bared his teeth into a feral smirk. "What? Can't even ride my cock? You dumb slut, need me to fuck you?" he snarled.

His harsh words startled you for a moment, but what was even more startling was the way your body responded to him. A shameless moan tumbled from your lips without your permission as you clenched around him, shuddering as another gush of your wetness coated his cock.

Matt laughed again, letting go of your chin to slid his hand down to your throat, loosely wrapping his hand around your neck. "You liked that, didn't you, hmm? You like it when I talk to you like that, pretty girl? I can feel how wet you get when I call you my dumb little whore."

Another shaky whimper from your throat vibrated against Matt's palm holding your neck. You gripped his broad shoulders as you trembled on top of him. "Please," you choked out, grinding down on his cock even though Matt was fully engulfed in you. "I need it, Matt, please."

"What do you need, sweetheart? Use your words for me, and I'll give you what you want."

"I need you to fuck me," you nearly sobbed, aching and desperate for him. "God, I need it so bad, Matt—please, please, please—just fuck me—I need your cock, I need you to—"

You didn't even finish your sentence before Matt was surging upwards, flipping you around so suddenly that the world spun around you until your back hit the seat of the sofa beneath you. Matt was on top of you, kneeling between your legs where he was still completely sheathed inside of you with your legs locked around his waist. There was a single moment where he brushed his thumb against your cheek tenderly, and that was it.

He dragged his hips back slowly, and you almost cried at the feeling of him leaving you—and then he was slamming back inside of you, and the next thing you knew, Matt was fucking you into the sofa with brutal, powerful strokes reaching so deep inside of you that you could have sworn stars exploded in the corners of your vision. You would have screamed if you had the breath, but the way his cock was pounding into you absolutely punched the air out of your lungs. The most you could manage was a strangled shout before you were gasping and clawing at the worn leather underneath your fingers, trying to find something to hold onto while Matt utterly wrecked you.

And then Matt was pulled you even closer to him, never mind the fact that you were already trapped between his strong arms, and the slight change in position was enough for his cock to drive into you at a whole new angle. His next thrust ground the head of his cock up into something earth-shattering inside of you, and your body jolted underneath him as though you had been struck by lightning. A hoarse moan, bordering on a scream, tore from your throat, followed by stammered gasps of Matt's name, falling over and over again from your lips.

Your smaller hands grasped at his forearm of the hand that was wrapped around your throat, blunt nails digging into the hard muscle of his arm as your eyes squeezed shut. Each one of his hard, fast thrusts was driving up you further and further towards your peak like a wave receding before it crashed.

Groaning in sweet delight with each slam of his hips, Matt stuttered out our name between his primal grunts as he fucked into you. "Sweetheart," he slurred, sounding as drunk on this pleasure as you were. "Fuck, honey, you feel so good—so fucking good."

"Matt," you gasped out, unable and unwilling to move from underneath him where he had pinned you down with the sharp, driving rhythm of his hips. He seemed to have realized that he had found your g-spot, and now he was just pounding mercilessly into you there, the pleasure of it so sharp and overwhelming it completely stole your breath away. Fire was coursing like liquid lava through your veins, going straight to your brain and making your head spin. Choked, ragged moans were all you could squeeze out from your throat, constricted from both Matt's hand around it and this utterly devastating pleasure ripping through you.

"So tight for me, sweetheart," Matt grunted. "Fuck—I can feel you squeezing me like that—ah!"

A strangled sob echoed through the room as you dug your heels into Matt's hips, encouraging him further. His pace picked up until he was fucking you so hard, the sofa was slowly sliding across the floor in small, stuttered skids.

"Such a good girl," he praised. "Taking my cock so well, baby."

You cried his name out again as he drove his cock up again, slamming straight into that spot with brutal accuracy, and then you were shouting—screaming—hoarsely as orgasm suddenly surged up over you, burning hot and furious as it scorched its way through every single nerve in your body. Your hands clawed uselessly at his forearm as you sobbed and twitched around him, clenching hard around his cock still pounding into you even as your vision went completely white for a few moments. That bone-deep pleasure was blazing deep inside of you, searing and branding itself on your fucking soul.

"Oh my fucking God, Matt!"

Matt's pace grew rough and frantic as your cunt continued fluttering around him even while the tendrils of orgasm were slowly receding from your limp form. He was panting and groaning your name, but the sound of it was muffled by the blood rushing in your ears. He drove into you once—twice—three more times, and then he was moaning brokenly against your throat where he'd pressed his face against your neck. You hadn't even noticed when he had he removed his hand from there, too caught up in your own bliss.

He buried himself inside of you to the hilt, and his body shook on top of yours as he finally let go, weeks of stress melting off his shoulders as he emptied himself in you, hot spurts of his release filling you up until he had nothing left to give you.

With a satisfied groan, Matt dropped his head into the curve of your neck with a low, almost reverent whisper of "sweetheart." Even though your arms, along with the rest of your body, were practically putty, you reached up to gently run your fingers through Matt's damp hair.

"Mmm," you hummed lazily. "I might have to thank whichever client got you so stressed because if that's what it takes to get you to fuck me like that...I'm sorry, babe, but I am going to refer Nelson and Murdock to everyone I know."

Matt snorted. "Sweetheart, I'll fuck you anyway you want as long as you don't do that."

"Oh well, in that case..."

You felt his lips curve into a smile against your neck. Matt lifted his head up and kissed you warmly, his pretty dark eyes focused on you. "Thank you for that, sweetheart."

"Oh absolutely. I'm always here if you want to just, you know, ruin me again. Totally down for it anytime."

═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘═══════ ∘◦ ❈ ◦∘ ════════

AN: Apologies for the very inconsistent posting schedule, I've just been writing whenever I can between work and life and classes and shit, so thanks for bearing with me, yall <3

If you enjoyed, please remember to like, comment, and reblog! 🖤

Matt Murdock Masterlist

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anonimusunnoaniswriting · 2 months

Text

Under the City Lights in the Shade of your Kiss.

Namami with a Tall! Girlfriend

𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 🎀Age in bio or blocked🎀

This man is 6 ft. So there's not a lot of people taller than him to be honest so the first time he sees you he's awestruck. Jaw hanging open like a buffoon before it's physically closed shut by Gojo of all people.

Man is mesmerised. He remembers everything about you so clearly. Your hair bouncing as you're laughing and chatting with your friends, head turning animatedly. The pretty pink gloss on your lips glinting in the flashing lights of the club. Your gorgeous body hugged by the black tube dress you wore only complimented by the intricately embroidered bomber jacket on top. You towered above your friends. Your shoes adding a couple inches but there was no doubt about it. You were taller than him.

You caught him staring and smiled shyly before winking amd turning back to your friends who had finished their shots and were now dragging you to the dance floor.

Your wink and the whiskey in him gave Nanami the courage he needed to go up to you and dance. His hands gently learning the curves of your body and all he could think of was how you would look underneath him. And you, fresh out of your situationship were ready to have a bit of fun so it wasn't really surprising when he was fumbling with the keys to his apartment with you against the locked door desperately kissing at him. Lips moulded to his. Grinding on him.

You stumble in and the clothes are coming off. Inbetween kisses. The jackets (both his and yours), his tie, your heels. He paused to look up at you. "God, how tall are you gorgeous?"

You can't help but giggle. "I'm 6'2"... Is that an issue?"

"Good god no!" He breathes, eyes darkening with lust.

He's scrambling at your dress's zipper and you're tearing at his shirt buttons as he lifts you and carries you to his bed. It's large and soft, enough that he drops you down and immediately pulls off the dress from your body to bury his face in your cunt. The heat from your pussy and the wet patch forming on your panties spurring him on. He licks and sucks, pushing the fabric of your underwear aside like a man lost in a dessert and you are a life saving oasis. He peels off your soaked panties soon enough and continues licking and sucking with renewed vigour. The lewd slurping sounds turn you on even more and you feel yourself getting close to your climax.

"Fuck, don't stop please!" You mewl out. A sound that not many men have coaxed from you. Nanami smiles against your cunt but continues in the same way. Licking. Sucking. Prodding. Slurping. Your hands reach down to his blonde locks fisting them as you get close. Your hips involuntarily grind against his face over and over. He generously pushes one thick finger into your wet cunt then another, still keeping his pace. One more flick to your clit and you explode. Your pussy gushes and you push your hips into his face thankful for his strong arms pinning you down otherwise.

Nanami helps you ride out your high on his face and resurfaced grinning. His eyes twinkling. "I thought you were a goddess when I first saw you, but that just proved you're divine."

You felt your cheeks heat up and leaned in to kiss him. You could smell your arousal on his face. But it didn't embarass you. It turned you on even more. Here was man who loved pleasuring you so much that he got hard from it. You could feel the offending appendage poking at your thigh and giggled.

"My turn then?" You asked Nanami. "Can I suck your cock?" You smirked at him. While tugging at his slacks and boxers.

"Not this time." The blonde groaned, "I need to be inside you." He quickly reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled out a condom.

"Let me."

You took the foil square from his hands and tore open the wrapping as he kicked off the trousers he wore. Then gently placing the disk on his already hard cock younrolled it all the way down, and placed a tiny kiss on the top. His cock twitched in your hand.

"Fuck please let me put in in gorgeous" he begged feeling like if he didn't fuck you now he might just come in your hands like a school boy. You smile and lay back letting him get on top of you. As he lines up his cock with your entrance you can't help but feel a thrum of excitement.

Nanami slowly pushes his cock into your greedy pussy. His cock is big enough for you to feel a delicious stretch while not so large as to hurt you. You feel him filling you nicely inch by inch, eyes trained on your face to make sure you were comfortable. A few shallow thrusts have you moaning and grinding your hips against him again.

"Fuck me, please Nanami-san! Please!" The desperation to feel him fully inside you evident in your voice. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and complies.

Nanami pushed into you fully. While kissing and licking the skin of your neck.

"Yea? Do I feel good for you gorgeous? Is it good?" He growls in your ear. You can't do anything but nod, his cock making you feel so full.

Slowly, Nanami starts to rock into you gently and then hard, picking up the pace. His mouth finds yours and your lips crash , teeth grazing and hands grabbing he fucks into you. All the noises coming from you sound like the prettiest siren song he's ever heard making you irresistible. He fucks your pussy kissing down your cheek to your jawline and then your collarbone. His thrusts getting faster and more and more erratic.

You put your hands on his shoulders and rock your hips into his cock further and further, harder, faster. Your lips not leaving his.

Nanami grunts a quick "I'm gonna come!" before ejaculating inside you.

He pulls out, making quick work of the condom and hops out to the toilet to clean up. He brings back. A warm damp towel and helps you wipe up your slick as well and then returns to the bed in all his gorgeous naked glory. You cant help but feel your eyes close.

"C'mere." Nanami mumbled to you. He wraps , arms around you cuddling you and nuzzling against your ear leaving the two of you to slowly drift away into a comfortable slumber....

AN: ok this is NOT EDITED. THIS IS A MIDNIGHT SUDDEN BURST OF INSPIRATION FICLET SO BE GENTELLL

Also I wrote this for 1 person and 1 person only @pseudowho it u. Since you wanted a tall reader and I was like oh yeah I can defo write that!!! (Has never been tall in my adult life) 😭😭😭

This is so sad Alexa play WTTBP

It's literally 12:30 AM and I pulled this out of my ass so if you see grammatical errors or something just KINDLY. KINDLYYY tell me in the comments.

Aight. I love my man Nanami. I'm sorry for any inaccuracies bc my 5'2" ass has never been tall in its life. I'm very tired. Will edit this tomorrow in the daylight.

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velvrei · 1 year

Text

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED

summary: robby and the reader go to prom and kyler’s after party, what happens when robby misbehaves and annoys the reader?

pairings: robby keene x female!reader

warnings: smut, season 4? handjobs, semi-public sex (except they don't actually have sex), begging, underage drinking, praise kink, pda (kissing in public), degradation, edging, overstimulation, choking

word count: 3k

author’s note: another early morning post<3 hope everyone has an amazing day and i hope you enjoy!

That content smile your father seldomly showed always uplifted you at the greatest times possible. He didn't smile much, however, when he did, it was for a good reason. Today's reason, it was prom night.

You and your father were very close. He was the type of dad to threaten or even hurt anyone who hurt you. And oh, the advantage of having a filthy rich father. He let you pick out your dress, no matter the price, and then not too long after took your date, Robby Keene, out to buy a tux. You insisted that you would go with though, cause you sensed your dad would doubtlessly have that father-daughters-boyfriend talk about how "if you hurt her I'll hurt you", or "you better treat her how she deserves".

Robby treated you like a queen, which is something your dad observed and it something he appreciated.

Robby constantly told you how perfect you were. He knew how to make you feel appreciated, and you constantly made sure he felt appreciated as well. You and Robby were sublime together.

"Daddy? Robby? Can I come down now?!" You yelled yearningly down the stairs. It was time for your big reveal with your new dress, as they did in basically every teen-movie involving some kind of dance. It was finally your turn, and you got to be escorted by the karate star of your dreams. It was the perfect moment.

"Yes, honey, we're ready."

You began your walk down the stairs, holding the railing to make sure you didn't stumble upon yourself. You looked up and saw your dad holding the phone on it's side, recording with his jaw dropped as one would. You looked beautiful. You had great taste.

Your dress was a gorgeous burgundy, with spaghetti width straps as well as a v cut that ended slowly above your breasts, far enough to make them perk up but you pulled it up until you got past your dad. You didn't feel like getting 'questioned' (which was Terry's replacement word for getting screamed at) on prom night.

Your gaze met Keene's and his jaw was dropped. He looked astonishing in his matching tux. His blazer and pants were jet black, as well as his tie and pocket square.

"Y- You look-" Robby was inarticulate, he was unable to speak.

"Beautiful, honey! I'm so glad I let you pick out your dress. You look amazing. Pretty sure Robby agrees, he's speechless!" Terry smiled brightly and you walked down the last step, instantaneously giving him a bear hug.

"Thank you so much daddy, for everything," You let go of your dad not wanting to crush his soul, "Today has been so perfect and I already know we'll have so much fun." His smile grew hearing your appreciation. He loved you so much, all he needed was to make sure his little girl had fun.

"Yes, thank you so much, Mr. Silver. Thank you for the tux, I'll pay you back when I can-"

"Don't worry about that kid, all I ask for is that you two stay safe. Tonight is supposed to be enjoyable, if you get in fights, first you win, then after the dance or whatever after party I'm sure someone will throw come back to tell me. I will handle it if it needs to be handled afterwards." Hearing those words made you feel safe.

"Of course, if something goes on that doesn't involve us we will disregard the entire situation." Robby looked Terry straight in the eye, but it wasn't a challenging stare per say, more of a 'I've got your back' look.

"Okay! Let me get some pictures and then you two should be on your way!" Terry spoke, searching around for one of his butlers to take a photo of the three of them.

"Ophelia, could you come here and take a picture for me and my two favorite teens, please?" He shouted, and Ophelia came running. She was always your favorite, she was adorable. Brown hair, ocean blue eyes, which was exceptionally rare for her darker skin tone.

"Of course, Mr. Silver." Her voice was always incredibly calming.

Your father's scoff turned into a laugh, "Remember, love, you can call me Terry. I get you work for me and you feel the need to but I really prefer Terry no matter who it is."

Your dad smiled sweetly toward Ophelia, and she smiled back gratefully, ready to take the picture on Terry's phone as he wrapped his arms around the both of you, standing in the middle. 'If he stood on the side it would've looked awkward', was probably something he would say later on.

The picture was taken, along with a few selfies taken by Terry and his long armed, substantial tall figure. Terry escorted the two of you into his lamborghini veneno that he gave you for the night.

Then, you were off to live the night of your dreams.

彡

You arrived to prom in style, you and Robby's whole goal was to make everyone turn their heads and cluelessly wonder how the former criminal bagged Samantha LaRusso's ex-buddy and Yasmine and Moon's current bestie. Sam used to be your friend, but she had messed up way to many times.

Robby quickly jogged to the passenger seat, almost tripping on the cement but he ceased himself and opened your door successfully.

"M'lady," He said, bowing with one hand behind his back then quickly reaching out and helping you out do the car.

"Thank you, kind sir." The playful banter didn't last very long, and no surprise you were the won to end it, "I swear to the devil if these heels ache my feet one more time I will fucking throw them at literally anyone's stupid face-"

Robby shushed you, his finger hovering your sultry lips. It smelled of cologne. How much cologne did he put on that day?

"It's okay, just let me know if it continues so I can sweep you off your feet." He said with a cunning smirk.

You were in for a tedious night of cheesy pick-up lines.

As you walked up to the door, thundering music filled your ears, the smell of school and alcohol filling your nose, which is something you should've expected but didn't in the slightest.

"Okay, if we see Sam or even Miguel, just look for like 2 seconds and look away, let's give them the act that we don't give a fuck. Cause we don't," His arm linked with yours, "Am I correct, Lady Silver?"

"You sure are, Sir Keene."

You slightly pushed passed the coral curtain, your steps in sync as you felt your chest become moderately warm. You both looked to the left of you, seeing Samantha and Miguel together at one of the many punched bowls that were spiked.

As soon as you even felt them notice, you looked away, and straight ahead, your eyes pausing on Moon and Yasmine.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," You heard Sam murmur, you could tell the frustration in her voice even if it was just a careless whisper.

Speaking of careless whispers, you heard the song by George Michael begin playing. You looked Robby directly in the eye and he knew exactly what you wanted. He was ready to go mingle with Kyler and Piper as you did so.

He gave you the gaze of approval, even thought you technically didn't need his permission. You kissed his cheek and ran off with Moon and Yasmine to sing your heart outs as if you were just broken up with and still in love with your former partner. But none of you were actually.

After you sung noisily with your closest friends, not even somewhat embarrassed of how heartbroken you may've sounded, and intensely danced with Robby to LES by Childish Gambino.

"Hey love, I heard our old teacher buddy Stingray is throwing an after party at his place," His eyes met yours and his right hand that was covered in rings found a place in your waist, "Wanna get out of here?" His eyebrows raised, his gaze moved down to your lips then back up to your eyes.

"You know it, baby."

彡

You and Robby were both been expecting some kind of after party to be held after prom, it was a tradition and it was finally your turn to be apart of it. Your whole night felt surreal.

You and Robby stumbled in through the door, his lips separating from your warm ones as he removed his hands from your waist.

"Aye look at Robby over there getting some, why don't I have that?" Kyler remarked, you could tell his dumbass was already intoxicated, you could smell his breath from a mile away.

"Maybe if you actually became tolerable more girls would be attracted to you," You shook your head with a chuckle.

Robby swiftly moved his hand up to your mouth, turning your chin toward him so you were eye level and wiped off your wet bottom lip as you tried not to internally freak out and played it somewhat normal by fixing his undone tie, maybe you should've have pulled on it as hard as you did outside.

"We'll continue that later," You whispered, then smacked his ass causing him to wince somewhat loudly.

Tory laughed, attempting to get Kyler some water to stay at least some what allegeable, "You alright over there, Keene?" She grabbed a dishrag from the drawer next to her, which she had remembered from the countless times she and the cobra gang had hung out with Stingray in the previous times.

"Yeah," Robby lied with a voice crack.

You laughed, then strolled over to find something else to do, Robby quickly following. "Why do you keep smacking my ass?" He questioned, you could tell he was becoming a frantic mess already. It was only eleven thirty-five post meridiem.

"You've got a voluptuous ass on you, man, if you haven't realized that already," You had smacked it at least seventeen times throughout the night, and it wasn't even close to being finished yet. "Oh?" You ignored his simple remark.

"Why? Do you not like it?"

"I never said that," He laughed and scratched his neck awkwardly.

You hummed, your left hand grasping his tie and your right ran along his stabbing jawline, you raised your lips up to his ear, "You know I wouldn't purposely do anything you're uncomfortable with, right, love?"

You softly kissed below his ear, knowing that was his sweet spot. You heard an almost silent sigh leave his lips, the actions you executed always left him desired for more.

He mumbled a ‘mhm’.

"Use your words, my king."

His knees became week and he almost collapsed in the middle of the room. Your voice was so sexy. "Yes, I know that, Y/N." His voice was raspy and low, as if he just had sexual intercourse although you've just been teasing him with your words.

"Good. Just wanted to make sure," Your nails lightly heaved the soft skin of his face. "Let's go find somewhere more private, shall we?" He nodded eagerly, but then remembered to use his words.

"Please, Y/N."

The sound of him begging quietly in your ear made you get butterflies in the place a little lower than your stomach, you felt your heart skip a beat as you made eye contact, grabbed him by his tie and pulled him in for a kiss, at this point, it didn't even matter if Sam or Miguel saw you.

You winked, then turn around, your fingers still firmly grasping his tie, leading him to find a somewhat empty closet.

Once you did just that, Robby felt his pants get tighter as you closed the door behind the two of you and pushed him up against the door.

You were so enticing. "You look so good, my love," Your hand traced faintly down his chest, he was so aroused his pale cheeks were almost red.

"Please, Y/N."

"Please what, my love? What do you want?" He let out a frustrated groan as your hand advanced lower and lower, stopping at his V-line. "T- touch me."

You enjoyed this side of him, he rarely showed vulnerability, and when he did it was with you. It made you aroused at the thought and sight of him begging for you to touch him.

Your lips firmly pushed against his, your left hand ran into his hair, pulling roughly and he let out an raucous moan. He eagerly pushed his crotch against you in attempt for some class of friction, failing miserably as you caught the act and stepped away, your lips separating.

"How cute, you're impatient," Your words were sweet like honey but what they meant made him stuck. He was officially sexually frustrated because of you, and you were adoring it.

You pushed his blazer off, his button-up displayed his chest beautifully. "Just thought I would help you, cause you seem to be very hot and bothered." He whined at your words.

"Please don't tease me. Please, please just do something. I don't care what it is," God, he was so needy. "Just touch me, Y/N."

You slowly undid the first three buttons of his shirt, leaving the remaining ones together as Robby's hands flit up to both verges of your face. "Y/N. Do something. I'm begging you," You could hear the direct need in his tone, and it made your knees give in.

You couldn't wait any longer to watch your boyfriend lose it.

"Fine."

You moved quickly, your hands swiftly undoing his pants and shoving them down. His boxers joined his pants and you grabbed ahold of him. He let out a needy whimper. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it, love? For me to touch you? You're so fucking needy."

He panted heavily, "You really have a way with words, huh?" He shuttered, his cheeks were bright pink and his hair was slightly messed up from your hands grasping at it.

"Only you would know that," A shiver traveled down his spine as you bent over and spat, then began pumping him faster.

You didn't bother shielding his lips with your free hand because you knew the loudly blasting music would cover his mellow whines and whimpers. "Holy shit." His hand fumbled on the door nob, trying to find something to lean himself on.

You looked him directly in the eye, you then turned him so his back was faced on the inside wall of the colorless closet.

Precum leaked off of him, he watched you in awe as you swiped your thumb across him and brought the remains up, your swollen lips closed around, your tongue worshipped his sweet taste.

He moaned at the sight, everything you did evoked him.

"Your hands are so, fuck," He wasn't able to form a proper sentence so you finished it for him, "Talented? Soft? Perfect? Something along those lines I'm assuming?" You said with a grin, your cocky side began to show, it made him weaker by the second.

"I'm so close, fuck," He whispered as his legs began to shake and his heart began to beat much faster than before. You slowly pulled away, and he suddenly became cold at the loss of your touch. He whined desperately, by now his entire body was alight with arousal and it was really pissing him off how you kept teasing but he knew if he did something about it he would regret it poorly.

"You want to come? Okay, I want to hear you beg for it. I want to hear you explain what you want me to do and then I may just do it." You spoke. He took that as a challenge. Challenge excepted.

He knew just how to make you listen.

"Please, Y/N, please, let me come," He begged with the tiniest smirk you've ever seen, "Please, I'll do anything, I'll be such a good boy for you," You almost moaned but you ceased yourself, "Please, please let me come." He begged.

You looked him in the eye and pumped him as fast as your hand could possibly go, he moaned loudly and began thrusting up to your hand. You wanted him to regret that he ever sassed you, even if it was just a little smirk he gave, however you saw it.

He mouth fell open, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Even after he came, you continued pumping him and he groaned.

Your fingers firmly gripped his throat.

"You really think you can purposely turn me on and not expect any consequences? Think again, Keene, you may have got what you wanted, but oh, honey, I'm going to do so much more than that." He whimpered at your words, and your hand continued loving at the same speed.

You began to get a cramp in your hand but you ignored it and continued your assault by rotating your hand and rubbing your thumb along his tip. "Fuck!"

He came again.

And again.

The overstimulations were enjoyable at first but it eventually became too much, and he begged for you to stop or else he would explode. You knew that. "You gonna be sassy to me?" Your hand tightened on his neck, and you examined his eyes. His pupils were dilating like crazy.

"No, Y/N, I promise I won't. You're in charge, I know that now. I'm so sorry, please forgive me." His attempted apology was like music to your ears. "Are you really sorry?"

"Yes!"

You smirked, and pursued to pump him. "Oh god I'm so close again, please please let this be the last one I w- won't be able to walk." He was a mess. It was beautiful.

"Okay my king, come for me. One last time." Your soft whispers caused him to throw his head back, he didn't care how hard it hit the door or how loud it could've sounded. He shouted your name as he orgasmed, and you swore he was about to cry.

After he finished he almost fell over but you caught him before he could. You put his weight back into the wall and cupped his cheek carefully. "You did so well, honey."

He melted into the warmth of your hand, and he stopped the arise of the red on his cheeks. "Thank you."

It made you happy knowing he trusted you enough to be vulnerable around you. You got him to beg multiple times, even if quite a few seemed sarcastic, he clearly learned his lesson.

He challenged you, and you won. You always won.

#robby keene smut #cobra kai imagine #robby keene x reader #cobra kai #imagines #cobra kai smut

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smileydk · 6 months

Text

Ace of Spades

Pairing: Criminal!Seonghwa x PoliceCaptain!Reader

Summary: Kim Jiwoo, a rookie Police Captain, is handed a case about “Ace of Spades”. Park Seonghwa. He’s a wanted criminal in the whole country and now it's Jiwoo's task to bring him in, but it doesn't go as planned. Instead she realizes how ridicolously good looking the dangerous man is. And she can't see how one man could possibly be that dangerous, or terrifying.

cw/tw: Guns, violence, harsh language, sexual jokes, might be more

Not proof read

- Ace of Spades: It is a symbol of power, authority and also death

As Jiwoo pulled up to the town square and spotted the man. He was clad in a black suit accented with gold details. He almost looked like a pirate, except the clown make up and the mad-man smile on his red lips.

Jiwoo got out of the car, sighing to herself as the other cop cars had left before they could even reach the town square. ''Greatest police force in the country they said''

She was mumbling to himself abou her force bing wusses as she approached the man with caution in her steps. She was sure he knew she was there.

He did.

Seonghwa cracked his neck loudly before he turned towards the woman. His mad smile grew even wider as he spotted her. ''Kim Jiwoo! I've heard a lot about you!''

''Only bad I hope'' She mumbled.

''Of course! I'm Park Seonghwa! Or you might know me as the "Ace of Spades". I shall greet you welcome to the force!''

Jiwoo chuckled to herself. At this exact moment the man seemed quite harmless. ''So you're the man the whole country fear? The one who scared of my entire force? I really can't see how a single man could be thar terrifying''

The man kept the psychotic smirk as a deep chuckle left his lips. ''Well, dollface, you'd be surprised what a single man could accomplish with the right motivation''

''Well, might not use the word pleasure, but it is an honor to meet the legendary "Ace of Spades", the one who makes my life a living hell through my superior officer. Now, what have you been up to?''

Seonghwa was intrigued by the woman. He'd never seen someone this confident around him.

He approached the girl and grabbed her jaw in a firm grip. He tilted her head from side to side as if he was inspecting her face. As if she was a porcelain doll covered in a speck of dust.

''Well aren't you a brave one?'' Seonghwa asked out loud as he was done with his inspection.

Jiwoo didn't reply. She didn't know how to reply to that statement. She felt like no matter how she replied she'd piss of the man.

Seonghwa wasn't really expecting an answer. He was mostly talking to himself. Something he did often. Well, mostly the voices in his head, not exactly himself.

''You are absolutely fucking gorgeous, have anyone ever told you that?'' He asked her as he ran his thumb across her cheekbone

''A few disturbing men, why?''

''Well, you should have someone in your life who always tells you how gorgeous you are, especially with a body like that'' He leaned even closer, eyeing her up and down.

Jiwoo was almost convinced he was gonna kiss her right there, at the town square in front of all the scared civlians.

She was surprised when he didn't. Instead he poked his tongue out and licked her face. Out of relfex, which most people would proabbly deem normal, she slapped the man with all the power she had.

''Goddamn'' Seonghwa hissed as he pulled back from the woman. She knew how to slap. ''You are one ballsy woman!''

Jiwoo continued staring into the man's eyes. ''If you let my face go now, and you walk away, I'm not gonna take you in in cuffs''

''And what if I like handcuffs?'' Seonghwa continued smirking. He knew he was kinky, but he wanted it to come out like that.

Jiwoo had come to the conclusion that, if he liked it, he wouldn't mind, and if he didn't like it, he would've walked away. Which is how Seonghwa found himsel sitting in a place he'd never been seated before. The backseat of a cop car with his hands folded neatly in his lap. He'd only driven them before, after stealing them that is.

As they reached the station she pulled him inside, without much struggle, she earned more than look as she led the the country's most wanted criminal into the station.

''Hey!'' Seonghwa snapped. He raised his hand and pointed a knife at each and single one of them. He had gotten out of his cuffs the moment Jiwoo put him in the car. ''If you don't stop staring, I might have to cut up all of you! Wouldn't like to look like the joker, would ya?''

He approached one of them, Wooyoung, and grabbed his jaw in a firm grip. He held the knife close to the right corner of the poor officer's mouth.

Wooyoung, who was known for being a bold man and always talking back, sat frozen in his chair. Jiwoo wasn't even sure he was breathing.

Jiwoo let out a sigh. ''Seonghwa, you're in a police station, the second you hurt someone they can, by law, fire their weapons at you''

Seonghwa's grip on Wooyung's jaw only tightened, but the knife dropped to the floor. ''Fine, but if you repeat this, I promsie you, something will happen''

Jiwoo grabbed his arm and dragged them towards their holding cells. As she shoved him inside the cell, the other perps were quick to press up against the wall in terror.

Seonghwa sat down in the middle of the room, on the floor, and took out a pen. As he took out the pen the perps pressed even harder against the wall.

He was enjoying the terror he put in other people.

''If your plan is to kill someone with that pen, please give it to me now''

''Look, I'm not planning on it, but even if I was planning it, do you really think I'd tell you?''

''Whatever, do you want a paper?''

Seonghwa nodded and smiled, this time not one of his psychotic, demon smiles, but a softer one.

The woman couldn't believe how a man could have such duality. One moment he's threatening to cut you up like the joker, and the other moment he's sitting on the floor, doodling away like a three year old.

As Jiwoo sat back down by her desk Wooyoung approached his superior officer. ''Look, don't get me wrong Jiwoo, respect for getting Seonghwa, but don't you think it's a bit weird he stayed even though he wasn't cuffed. He must have something planned''

''I know, but let's give him the benefit of a doubt. Or just shove the other perps into the hearing rooms if you think he's gonna kill them. They're too dumb to escape, but I don't trust Seonghwa in there as he could escape. Hell, he could escape now as well, despite eight armed officers watching over him''

Wooyoung nodded. ''I guess...'' He sat back down by his desk and threw his legs up on it.

Jiwoo kept her eyes on the holding cell, where Seonghwa was still sitting peacefully, drawing on his paper and twirling the pen between his fingers every now and then.

''How is he the most feared man in Korea?''

48 hours passed, which meant they couldn't hold the man longer without proof or a hearing. And they had no solid proof. All they had were his tag "Ace of Spades" and he would never admit to that on tape.

''Come on Seonghwa, either you help us out here, or you've gotta leave. We have to fill the cell with other perps and they're all terrified of you'' She motioned to the other perps who'd been pressed up against the wall for the past two days.

''What do I have to do for you to give me something? Please~ give me anything!'' Jiwoo whined. She'd given up on her cool after the first 36 hours.

''Make out with me'' He stated simply, not lifting his gaze from his doodling paper.

Jiwoo couldn't believe she was even considering the offer. Making out with the most wanted man for something he might not even tell her afterwards? ''No! Nuh-uh''

''You hesitated, Princess''

And so the days kept passing and Seonghwa would not budge. They had to get creative about where they put the perps.

Some were shoved into the hearing rooms, which didn't work out in the long run since they needed those for... well hearings.

Some were simply cuffed to nearest surface and the guys hoped they wouldn't escape.

Jiwoo was getting tired of having to come up with different ideas of where to keep the perps, so she took it upon herself to throw the man out so their holding cell could be used.

She walked into the holding cell. ''Guys, take the other perps and store them... somewhere. I just need 10 minutes''

Hongjoong nodded and stood up, as well as the rest of the men, and walked over to the cell to escort the perps into different hearing roooms, with each other.

As Jiwoo entered the holding cell she closed and locked it behind her. She sat down opposite of Seonghwa.

''Can you either help us, or just... leave?''

''But if I leave I can't see your pretty face everyday, Princess'' He finally lifted his gaze from his painting.

Jiwoo took a peek at it. Her eyes widened. It was a picture of herself and Seonghwa... doing unthinkable things. ''You've got some talent, but eh... why in the world am I on the picture?''

''You're hot'' Seonghwa replied without stuttering.

Then again, he was probably used to saying anything he wanted and no one batted an eye.

''You're crazy'' Jiwoo mumbled quietly to herself.

The man's head snapped up in almost inhumane pace. ''Crazy you say?'' The psychotic smile was back on his lips. ''Say, I've been called lots of things, but crazy isn't one of them'' He stood up and started pacing as well as insepcting the cell. ''See I'm a bit hurt you call me crazy, Princess. I was starting to like you''

''I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, but to be fair, you're wanted for basically everything you can be wanted for''

Seonghwa chuckled. ''Fine, I'll leave, but we'll meet again soon. I can promise you that''

''I doubt it''

Jiwoo was walking home after a long shift. The clock was two in the morning and it was pitch black outside. The sun would be up in a few hours, due to summer time. The only light she was given came from the street lights, which were almost ten meters apart.

She was thanking the weather for being on the warmer side since she was clad in a crop-top and a pair of jeanshorts.

An attire that had made her whole department laugh since she'd never showed up in such clothing. Or to quote Wooyoung "I didn't know you had the ability to look like a female human being"

She wasn't worried. She had her gun on her, and she'd never been scared of the dark. But something was irking her. She didn't like it one bit.

What Seonghwa said to her a month ago, actually got to her.

She wasn't necessarily scared of the man. He had never given her a reason to be scared of him. Well, depends on how you wanna interpreter the whole thing, he had given her several reasons to terrify him, but she always wanted to give people a second chanve, and believe in the good in people.

But she was worried about what he could accomplish, since she had after all heard stories about him.

She stopped as she spotted a silhouette standing under the next lamp.

''The chances of it being Seonghwa is small'' She mumbled to herself.

She didn't know if she wanted to reassure herself or if she was just praying that it wasn't him.

Since the light came from above she couldn't see his face, or any form of detail that could reveal the person's identity.

As she got closer the silhouette started chuckling. Jiwoo cursed herself. She recongized his chuckle.

''Well Princess, didn't I promise we were gonna meet again?'' He stood up straight and walked the last few feet, since Jiwoo was frozen in shock. ''Aren't you happy to see me, Princess?'' He gently grabbed her jaw and tilted it upwards.

''I- uhm... no?'' Jiwoo felt intrigued by him.

''Lie. You know what we do with liars?'' Seonghwa's smirk grew. ''We punish them'' Seonghwa grabbed her arm and pulled her towards a car. ''Scream and someone innocent dies''

Jiwoo cursed herself in her head but allowed the man to pull her towards a random car, which he decided was now his.

What she said previously was out the window. She was starting to grow scared of the man. He was unpredicatble.

Seonghwa stomped on the gas and drove towards his mansion. Yes, mansion.

''We've got an hour to kill, ask me anything. I know you're curious''

''Well... cheesy, but your origin story? Why?''

''Well, I think you know my family. My father Park Baekhyon, asshole for that matter. He's most of the reason. Abusive, alcoholic, manipulative, did as wished because he was rich''

Jiwoo racked in her head for the name Park Baekhyon. She slowly realized who he was. ''You killed your own parents''

''I did. I'm not proud of it. But-''

''How could you kill your own father?'' Jiwoo exclaimed.

''You didn't know him as I did!'' Seonghwa shouted and gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were turning white. Jiwoo thought he was break it. ''He would rape young boys! He would bring home my friends and he would lure them into his study. Something happened behind those doors and then I would never see my friends again! I only know because he got drunk one evening and bragged about it! And when those boys couldn't satisfy his needs he turned to mom and me!''

Jiwoo's eyes softened. No, it didn't justify the face that he was a murderer or the fact that he murdered his own parents, but him being messed up might have something to do with his messed up childhood.

''I would call the police, but as everyone adored my father and knew nothing about what happened behind closed doors, they would dismiss it as some rich kid around abusing his power, or just just asking for attention! No one ever believed me when I said I was in trouble!''

The car fell silent. The rest of the hour long drive was quiet. Jiwoo was processing everything Seonghwa had told her and Seonghwa was slowly regretting that he told the girl his whole lifestory.

As they reached Seonghwa's mansion Jiwoo's jaw fell open. ''Goddamn''

''Close that pretty mouth of yours'' He tapped her chin and led her inside.

''Look, your sad childhood is, most likely, the root of your hell-like life, and it oesn't excuse your behvaiour, but I get it. No one ever showed you love''

Seonghwa stopped walking and turned around. ''I don't like how you read me like an open book. If you're trying to tell me I've got daddy issues, fuck you. But you're right, no one ever showed me any love and I've been just fine without it! I don't need you, Ms. Police Captain to come around and act all sweet and pretend to give me the love you decided I need''

The woman sighed to herself. She was gonna regret everything she was about to do.

She walked up to the tall man and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. She thought that despite his cold and rough aura, he needed some love.

Everyone needs love, but especially those who've never received it.

The man froze. He was confused. ''W-w-what are you doing?'' All his hard work at building up walls around himself faltered in a second. This woman did what no one else had ever accomplished.

And he hated it!

''I'm hugging you''

''Why? I don't deserve that- I don't-''

''Everyone deserves love. Everyone needs love. Even the most cold hearted people in the world needs love'' She mumbled and kept her arms wrapped around the man.

Seonghwa didn't move from his frozen state. He had never gottan a hug from anyone. Hell, he'd never even gotten a slap on the back, or heard anyone tell him he did a good job.

As Jiwoo pulled away she smiled. ''Everyone-'' Before Jiwoo could start talking Seonghwa had stormed off into a random room.

He had never showed his feelings, he never had to, so now that the woman managed to get his feelings to spill out, he didn't know what to do.

Jiwoo sighed and started walking through the hallways to find the man.

''Why does one lonely man need 200 bedrooms?'' Jiwoo asked herself as she opened another door.

''Empty''

She opened the last door in the hallway, which was a double door. As she threw the doors opened she was met with the man she was looking for.

He was sitting on the floor, something Jiwoo realized was a habit of his, with a big knife in his hand. He was twirling it between his fingers, occasionally throwing it up in the air and catching it.

As Jiwoo opened the door, said knife came flying towards her head. It stuck to the door, less than an inch from her face, but despite the closeness she didn't flinch.

She simply removed the knife and took a closer look at it. ''Nice knife'' She threw it back to Seonghwa. She walked over to the man and sat down in front of him. ''Look, I know you’re not used to… emotions. So I’m sorry that I just… emotion-vomited on you''

Seonghwa didn’t say anything. He simply raised his gaze and deadpanned the woman.

''I can be your therapist! Tell me all your problems''

Jiwoo knew it was weird for a police officer to be nice to a criminal, it was weird for her to even be this nice to a criminal. But she felt like he needed it.

Seonghwa swiftly raised his knife to Jiwoo’s throat and his gaze was ice cold. ''I don’t care if your job is to make me a better a person, I don’t care if your intention is to make me less of a criminal, or however you want to word it, I won’t tell you shit. Are you gonna get a promotion if you do this?''

Once again she didn’t flinch. She gently laid her hand on Seonghwa’s and lowered it. She carefully took the knife from his hands, all while keeping eye contact with the man.

Seonghwa’s gaze softened as he realized she wasn’t scared of him. She wasn’t gonna let this go anytime soon. No one had ever put in this much effort for anything that was about him.

Jiwoo grabbed his other hand and just held his cold hands in her warm ones.

''Look, I know you’ve never heard this before, and I know it’s weird especially when it’s coming from a Police Captain, but I’m here if you need something''

The man didn’t know what to do.

His heart was thumping loudly in his ears. Her hands holding his gave him a tingling sensation. Her sweet, gentle smile made him wanna smile.

''Why is my heart thumping so hard? And fast? And why does my skin tingle whenever you touch me? And why do I wanna smile when you smile?'' Seonghwa rambled his questions out loud.

Jiwoo chuckled at his ramble. How would such a notorious criminal be so adorable.

''Your heart is thumping hard and fast because you’re excited, or when you’re in love. Your skin is either tingling because you’re in love with me or because your allergic to me, and smiles are infectious''

Seonghwa’s eyes widened as he came to a realization. He was in love with the woman in front of him.

''I’m kidding. I have no idea why all that is happening to you'' Jiwoo smiled.

Deposited the woman joking, he was quite sure he was in love with her.

''I think I like you… more than I’d like to admit''

The woman froze. He couldn’t. It was like a poor version of Romeo and Juliette.

''Well, I don’t know if I can say the same right at this moment-''

''I knew it! No one could ever love me! You lied to me!''

Seonghwa swiftly pulled out a gun and pressed it to Jiwoo’s forehead.

The cold metal pressing against her forehead would turn anyone into a frantic mess, but Jiwoo was surprisingly calm. She trusted him.

Which could be stupid, but she listened to her gut feeling.

It almost annoyed Seonghwa that he couldn’t terrify her. He always put fear in people without even trying! He could walk down the street to get a cup of coffee and people would disappear faster than one could count to three.

But why wasn’t this woman scared of him?

She was more scared of his feelings than she was of a gun, pressed against her forehead by the most notorious criminal Korea’d ever seen.

And why couldn’t he hurt her? He’d never had a problem with killing, torturing, kidnapping and so on.

But this woman, something about this woman made him wanna remove all the evil in the world. He could never hurt her! He wanted to protect her from anything that could possibly be evil.

''I- I- I can’t do it! Why can’t I kill you? I’ve never had a problem with it before! What makes you special? You make me wanna quit the criminal life! You make me wanna remove all the evil in the world! I wanna protect you from anything that could possibly hurt you'' He threw the gun across the room in rage.

Jiwoo smiled. ''You are in love with me, Park Seonghwa. Whether you like it or not ''

''I don’t like it! You don’t like me back!'' Seonghwa exclaimed. He almost looked like a three year old throwing a temper tantrum.

''Look, it might be because I've only just met you, or the fact that you're wanted for basically every single thing you can be wanted for, but if I get to know you, the feelings might change'' She held his, cold, hands in her warm ones.

Jiwoo grabbed his arms and pulled at them. ''Come on, I saw a giant TV in one of your millions of rooms, you've gotta have some kind of games. Let's play''

''For a police Officer your aim is really shitty'' Seonghwa chuckled as he won another match.

''It's a lot easier in real life'' Jiwoo mumbled and threw the controller on the couch. She threw it hard enough for it to bounce, and smack Seonghwa in the face. ''Oh my god, I am so sorry!''

Seonghwa glared at the woman. ''How dare you?''

Jiwoo tried her best to not laugh as Seonghwa glared at her. She couldn't really take him seriously. Why? She had no idea, he was terrifying when he glared at someone.

He grabbed her by the waist and pinned her down to the couch.

''I said I'm sorry'' Jiwoo mumbled as the mood changed within a second. ''What more do you want? Kiss it better? Where does it hurt?'' Jiwoo cooed in a judging way.

''I mean, that would be rather nice, wouldn't it?'' He leaned closer to her with a small smirk on his lips. ''My lips hurt, kiss them better?''

The woman didn't know what came over her, but she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Seonghwa smirked as her lips pressed against his.

As they deepened the kiss Seonghwa removed one of his hands to place it on Jiwoo's cheek, but instead he managed to fall off the couch with a small "Ouff"

Jiwoo sat up and looked down at the boy. She chuckled slightly before he grabbed her and pulled him down on top of him. A small "Ouff" left them both again. Jiwoo chuckled as she straddled his waist.

Seonghwa looked at her with adoring eyes. His hands laid on her thighs, on which his thumbs drew small circles. The woman didn't know what to do as he stared at her. She blushed and lowered her gaze, causing him to chuckle.

''Cute'' He mumbled before he allowed his hands to travel up her thighs, past her waist and under the hem of her shirt. Goosebumps grew on her skin as his fingertips did as they wished.

''What is your next plan?'' Jiwoo raised an eyebrow as she looked down at the man. She tried to not blush as he stared at her.

''As I said, you'd be surprised what a single man could accomplish with the right motivation'' He winked and sat up, face less than an inch from hers.

''What's your motivation right now?''

''You''

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seventhcallisto · 3 months

Text

Impurities Preview.

You can find the masterlist for impurities here > ♥︎

(beta preview)

Home isn't home. There's no place safer than the cells you were once locked in. White walls that casted light off every corner and blocked shadows from appearing. A restaurant like this, full of dark hues and glasses and gorgeous bleeding reds has plenty of places for shadows to hide. You had never stepped foot in a such a place, had never even seen such luxuries. You've lived and grown up in wards, with nurses who called you by your last name. And doctors who could be deemed copy and pasted from textbooks.

The man across you is none of those things. He's nothing like that place. He's the shadow you'd get scared of, peeking from the corner of your bedroom as a child. The monster you'd cry about and then get dismissed for. Shamed for crying wolf. Only this time, the wolf was real. And his hair is as dark as the shadows you fear.

"Is the wine not up to your taste?" Seonghwa hums, jaw falling against his palm as he reaches for the tall bottle placed in the middle of the squared table. He glanced at the label, eyes peeking back up to you. They're warm, not in a way you should consider okay. You quietly respond. "I. I don't drink. I can't drink." You gulp down the queasiness in your stomach. Attempting to ignore the chatter of people as they eat and talk.

"Ah, yeah." Seonghwa clears his throat, placing down the large bottle. He beckons one of the waiters, a man with a completely spotless suit, who eyes your casual appearance for just a second. A second too long for the blonde across from you. He stares back at you, eyes heavy, full of everything you hate about him. "What would you like to drink, love?" Seonghwa refers to you, face switching as the waiter finally glances at seonghwa.

You stutter, cut off by the term he uses, pushed onto the spot. "Water?" You curl into yourself, hand fiddling over the cloth napkin in your lap.

Seonghwa hums, staring a second longer than needed, you hold the contact before he breaks it and turns to look back up at the waiter. "Water." He repeats you, voice smooth and heavy. A sound you once found comfort in. The waiter drops his head into a bow, leaving to grab your choice of drink. Seonghwa watches him go, a scowl on his plump lips. "You see that? I can't take you anywhere."

"What?" You blurt out, eyebrows scrunching. Hwa sighs, fingers pressing against his temple. He looks up through parted eyelashes, wide eyes beautiful under the dim lights. "You're too beautiful, too clueless." He seems to speak to himself, downing the rest of his glass. It clicks as he sets it back against the table. "Staring at you, ogling over you" he scoffs "doesn't he know you're here with me?" It's not a question. He hums, hand fiddling with the base of his glass.

"Doesn't he know you're mine?"

"Seonghwa.." You fail to find the right words. To defend the man who was just taking a drink order. "Maybe it's cause I'm wearing this in the vip section." You mumble. You're in jeans. A simple graphic tee. It's not much, especially when seonghwa is dressed to the heavens. A suit hugging him perfectly. Tailored to his exact size.

That beckons the attention of seonghwas eyes, looking you up and down. More than once- more than necessary. He stands up, hands reaching out to grasp your arms. You follow shortly, surprised. Following his lead, he guides you through the restaurant, into a back room that's full of perfect furniture. White couches and hues of black and reds to accent. You stare.

"Don't look so surprised" seonghwa laughs, eyes scrunching up fondly, he lets you go as he emerges into the room. He fits in perfectly. A perfect contrast.

What are you supposed to do? You watch hwa move about guiding to one of the walls, he pushes on it, and suddenly there's a pair of doors folding out and the back dropping. He turns to watch your reaction. It's strange. Not something you've seen before. "Come here"

You follow his call, steps uneasy as you maneuver to the walk in closet. He opens the door with a swing of his arms. It's colorful and full of everything. Seonghwa gouges your reaction, his perfect hands coming around to swipe against a peice of clothing hanging on an open hanger. "This is all for you, everything in here."

The taller man glances at your figure. You're rigid, overwhelmed, shock on your face. You struggle again for words. "mine?" You gawk, hands folding in on themselves across your chest. It's reactive, classic-ly you from the amount of trouble you'd get in from your prying hands. "How.. how long has this been here?"

You ask. Despite knowing the answer- he's told you before how long he has waited, how long they've all waited. You're trying your best not to upset the food in your stomach, but it's in knots, churning uncomfortably and threatening to mark the red carpet under your shoes.

Seonghwa hums, thumb swiping over a peice of lace. He walks further in. "As long as I've known you," he casually replies. Hand falling into his pocket as he comes over to you. You shrink in on yourself. "Some of it won't fit the same, it's been here for a while." Seonghwa shakes his head, guiding his eyes down to look at you. "We'll just throw out whatever doesn't fit"

Your heart skips. Throw out?? There's hundreds- thousands of dollars worth of clothes in here. You can hardly comprehend that.

"Why throw it out? Why not take it back- or donate it?" You ask, it should be innocent enough. Easy enough for you to say. You still feel like you're overstepping. It's seonghwas money- he bought these clothes. You have no right to tell him what he should and shouldn't do.

Seonghwas eyes scrunch. He's still, watching you with his pretty siren like eyes. "Is that what you want?" He asks, almost in a whisper. You gulp. "I.. yeah?" Seonghwa hums. "Okay, we'll donate what doesn't fit"

"Go on, get to trying it all."

Your head snaps back. "But- that's-" seonghwa sighs heavily. "Donations open as early as 7 am tomorrow. I have a meeting at 8. If you don't try everything on today, then it'll get thrown away in the afternoon." seonghwas eyebrows shoot up, hoping you'll interrupt him. "It's an eye sore, doll."

"You understand, don't you?" Seonghwas tall legs are slow and meticulously paced towards your frozen body, your eyes avoiding the tall man to the clothing from either side, back and forth. Even as he stalks towards you, like a predatory, his gaze is completely set on you.

"Tell me you understand." He stops just short in front of you, towering in all his beauty. His thumb brings your chin up to meet him, bringing your eyes to meet his dark and petrifiying ones.

"I understand, seonghwa," you murmur, trembling in the grasp of the man who has completely changed the course of your life in mere weeks.

His lip perks up, his hands grasping the sides of your head gently, and before you can guess what he's doing, he's laying a warm kiss on the middle of your forehead. Tainting you with his lips.

"Of course you do. Get to it, sweetheart."

#impurities #impurities preview #yandere seongwa #yandere seonghwa x reader #x reader

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 months

Note

Bucky choking Steve is my kink

Yeahhhh 😮‍💨

We all get it. We understand.

How could you not be into it?

For real, though, even though I've definitely thought a lot about choking kink and stucky before, this ask set off a bomb in my head 😏

Bucky. Choking. Steve.

Specifically, though, this hit me over the head with a hammer imagining that Bucky has a thing for Steve's neck. It's to the point where, if pressed, Steve might say that Bucky has almost a goddamn fetish for his throat. It's definitely a kink, if not a full-blown fetish.

Bucky can't help the way he's drawn to that part of Steve's body. It's instinctual. Immediately, unconsciously, when he's looking at Steve in lust, that's where his eyes are drawn. Appreciating the vision that he is, his eyes end up stuck right there under his square jaw but above his broad shoulders and chest. It's just so pretty. His throat. It drives him insane, he swears.

When Bucky has the fortune of having Steve in his lap, Bucky kneeling on their bed, Steve on top of him, his pretty, pert ass pressed back and stretched tightly around his cock, making Steve bounce on it--he'll have his hands on Steve's hips, gripping his tight little waist, pulling him down, spearing him on his cock as he faces him, but his eyes will be on his throat. He's watching him, completely enamored by the slow, heated creep of his blush, spilling down from his cheeks toward his collarbone, eventually reaching the tight peaks of his cute, pink nipples. Painting his neck red. Heated.

Steve starts in his lap--bouncing, bouncing, bouncing--Bucky fucks him so good, though, jolting whimpers and whines out of his huge chest, that he doesn't stay like that for long. Thighs flexing, hole clenching and twitching around his thick cock, chest heaving hugely, tits jiggling. It's too pretty. Soon, Steve can't keep himself upright. All those sculpted, curvy muscles turned useless once he's gotten some good dick in him. Brain melted. In molten arousal, Steve starts trembling, unable to keep the pleasure inside him, but it gets worse. It gets better. And right then, his back arches.

Oh, fuck, that gets Bucky every time--

Every damn time.

When he arches his back, trembling in pleasure, unable to hold himself together as he moans with his whole body, not just his voice, he throws his head back, and his neck is elongated--arched. Showing off. It does Bucky in. He can't take it. Steve's entire body follows his head, arching, thrown back until he ends up on his back; his whole torso bowed, nearly broken in half, as he's filled to the brim with dick. And somehow, the best part is his arched neck.

That pale, pretty column. Kissable and so grabable.

His neck. His heart is beating so fast that Bucky can see the pulse of his thick, hot blood in the viens that wrap around his throat just under the thin, delicate skin like ivy across a brick wall. Steve moans high and pretty, the sounds fucked right out of him, ah, ah, ah, his noises never getting stuck in his throat. His Adam's apple moves entrancingly when he swallows, when he chokes, when he presses his head back into the pillows so overwhelmed.

God.

Bucky wants to eat him alive.

He wants to bite that neck. It's mouth watering. It's gorgeous. The sharp, square shape of his jaw, the smooth, unblemished, blushing skin stretched over his jawbone, flowing down his throat, his collarbone, and the tendons and muscles in his neck. It's all so unbearably alluring. Bucky swears he could write fucking sonnets about the heady attraction he feels for Steve's neck. He wants to lick and mouth at those gorgeous lines of bone, tendon, and muscles until they're glistening with sweat and spit. Glowing. Like they should be. He wants to trace those lines with his fingertips and dig his nails into them, just to hear Steve gasp. He wants to bite marks into the thick muscle between his neck and shoulders until he's bruised like a peach. He wants Steve to never wear anything again; he wants Steve to only wear tight, low neck t-shirts, and he wants everyone to see where he's had his. Where he's bitten and gabbed Steve because he wants him so badly.

He wants him. Viciously. Vivaciously. He can never get enough of him. He's a drug that Bucky is begging to overdose on. Take him out.

Bucky wants to collar that fucking throat, to own it like he knows he owns Steve but... he almost can't stand not being able to see all of it.

All of his neck.

Shit, Bucky has it bad. Even when he has his hand around his throat, he's thinking about what Steve's throat looks like naked. He's thinking about Steve turning his head to the side to crack his neck, exposing himself, he's thinking about Steve shaving in the morning, baring his throat to draw that sharp, gleaming blade down it, he's thinking about Steve tipping his head back to down a beer, throat contracting beautifully, he's thinking about the way Steve looks head hanging off the side of the bed as Bucky fucks his throat, bulging his neck with his cock, stuffing it down, he's thinking about Steve falling asleep on the sofa with his head tipped back, innocent and sweet but so perverse, he's thinking about Steve when he used to get colds, small and sharp, his tendons and collarbones sticking out so pretty, able to cut glass, and he's thinking about how when his cold left his voice hoarse, his hands would always come up to rub his throat like that would fix the ache from the outside. Yeah. He's thinking about Steve's neck. It's hypnotic. How could he not?

Bucky loses it over Steve's neck.

Bucky goes feral over his neck.

Up there with fucking his throat so deep that it bulges and Steve sputters, his eyes all glassy and hazy, Bucky's favorite is painting Steve with a pearl necklace. He can go from soft to achingly hard in an embarrassingly short amount of time with the motivation of Steve sliding to his knees, his lashes sweeping as he glances demurely up at him, sticking his chest and throat out, begging for his cum with those plush lips. Light-headed, dumbfounded by the way Steve goes from shy kitten to slutty minx at the snap of fingers. Because that's the thing--

Steve might claim he's clumsy and he can't dance, saying he's got two left feet without any rhythm, but the moment Bucky gets him out of his head, fuck dumb, submerged in boiling lust, he turns into a swan.

All pale skin, all grace, long, powerful limbs surrendering to Bucky's will with nothing more than an involuntary tremble of bliss--feathers ruffled. All Bucky has to do is touch him right, and he yields to him. Arching and stretching, swooning into the touch. He coos soft and breathy, "oh, oh, ohhh," with his hip jerking up, thighs shaking, and his back arching, his throat slim and long and gorgeous, flushed pink. Baring, curving, exposing his neck like an offering.

An offering Bucky can't resist. There's just something about Steve's neck that turns him into an animal.

How did this choking kink ask turn into an answer with hardly an actual hand-on-the-throat action?? 💀💀

#asks #fandomfluffandfuck #bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #big sub steve #dom bucky

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 5 months

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take me to church | choi san

We’re back with another San work bc he’s hot and I love him. Genres: fluff, religious differences (but not like in an angst way, it’s really all fluff) Warnings: reader jokes about dying. Heavy discussion of religion, specifically Catholicism. Characters attend mass and confession. Brief sacrilege? Idk they kiss in a cathedral, so if you are Catholic and that’s offensive to you, probably don’t read this. San has unbelievable rizz (needs a warning) and is sometimes a bit suggestive.

“It took you long enough,” you tease, looking up from your book at the handsome young man holding two coffee cups and waiting for you to notice him. “You’ve been staring at me for a good long time.”

He grins at this. “Can I sit down?” he asks you, offering you one of the cups.

You take it and sip gingerly. “How did you know?” you ask him suspiciously.

“‘Apple cider with a shot of cinnamon and caramel syrup, warmed for one and a half minutes instead of two’,” he recites. “How long have we both been coming here?”

“Well, I’ve been coming here a month,” you tell him. “I don’t know how long it’s been for you.”

“It’s been a month for me as well,” he says. “The first time I saw you was my first time here.”

“Really?” you ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, after that I just kind of decided it was my favorite,” he says, something wicked dancing in his eyes as he smiles at you.

You shake your head with a scoff at the audacity of this man. “Oh, yeah?��

“Yeah,” he says. “They have good coffee too.” He leans back in his seat and takes a sip.

You size him up -- broad shoulders and a well-muscled chest under a white henley shirt and puffy jacket to protect against the wintery cold, square jaw, high cheekbones, those dangerous brown eyes, and black hair styled up and off his forehead in a swooping Clark Kent-esque style -- and the verdict is easy. Gorgeous. But for one thing, you’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing you feel that way. For another, you know his type. He has the air of the frat boys from college who threw ragers and took bets to see if they could get in your pants.

So you sip your drink again. “So, what’s your schtick? Tell me so we can stop wasting each other’s time.”

“Time spent enjoying yourself is never wasted,” he shoots back. “And I don’t have a schtick. I just want to get to know you better.” He seems unruffled by your aloofness, the hint of a smile still playing about his lips.

“There isn’t a lot to know,” you counter.

“Everyone says that, but it’s never true,” he says.

“How many other girls have you tried this approach on?” you ask him with narrowed eyes.

“Enough,” he allows with another smile. “Although this is the first time I’ve waited so long to make a move.”

“I’m flattered,” you deadpan. “Lost your nerve in your old age?”

“Maybe I learned the value of patience,” he says, undeterred.

You weren’t expecting him to keep up with you for this long, so you simply look at him for a moment. “You got a name?” you finally ask, and his smile grows wider.

“Choi San,” he says. “You?”

“No,” you reply lightly.

For the first time, he looks taken aback. “No, like, you don’t have a name?”

“No like I’m not going to give it to you. Yet.”

“Yet?” he complains. “Damn, you’re one tough cookie.”

“You have no idea,” you say. “Speaking of which, I have somewhere to be.”

“Let me join you,” he says immediately, standing as well.

“Oh, as much fun as that would be, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you tell him with a laugh, putting on your hat and coat and making for the exit of the coffee shop.

“Why not? Are you going to a doctor’s appointment or something?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you reply as you push open the door, shuddering against the cold air. “I have six months left to live.”

San’s eyes go wide before he realizes you’re messing with him. “You’re awful,” he chides, nearly running to keep up with your quick stride.

“And you’re persistent,” you say over your shoulder. “Seriously, I’m not going anywhere fun. You should go back inside where it’s warm. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Are you worried about me?” he asks with a teasing smile.

“Extremely. You seem very unhinged.” But you’re laughing at the way he’s dodging the crowd of people on the sidewalk walking the opposite direction so that he can keep sight of you, and this seems to spur him on. Even as San apologizes to an elderly group of women for colliding with them, there’s a determination in his eyes that makes your heart beat quicker than is strictly necessary.

“Oh, I am,” San retorts. “I need someone to take care of me.”

“Call your mother.”

“I would, but she lives in Korea.”

“Call a friend. Do you have any of those?”

“I have plenty, but there’s a very specific cure for my ailment that none of them can provide.”

You stop in your tracks and he nearly runs into you. “What do you want from me?” you ask, half annoyed, half impressed at all the smooth-talking.

“Your name, first,” he says. “And then maybe a phone number. That’s all. I swear.”

You consider him, biting back the thought that he looks even handsomer than normal because of the cool air tinging his cheeks pink and the sunlight in his eyes. “Tell you what,” you say. “You make it through this, and we can talk.”

San’s eyes follow your finger to where you’re pointing -- at a towering cathedral ornately decorated with statues of staring saints. He looks at you with wide eyes. “You’re a church girl?”

“Decidedly so, yes,” you say. “You sit through one mass and I’ll give you my phone number.”

He still doesn’t seem to be worried about any of this. “If I do confession, can I have a date?” he asks hopefully.

“I think if you do make confession, we’ll be in there so long we won’t have time for a date,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes. “Now come on.”

He grins. “You already know me so well. Take me to church,” he says.

The other regulars in the congregation eye you and San with interest as San follows your lead, watching how you dip your fingers into the water at the entrance and then cross yourself. He tries, but ends up crossing himself the wrong way, and you have to stifle a giggle as the little old lady who sits up front gasps loudly.

San looks at you in alarm. “What did I do wrong?” he asks.

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him. “She just has a spiritual gift for seeing when someone is trying way too hard to get someone’s number.”

He shakes his head and follows you into a pew. “How long have you been Catholic?” he asks in a whisper.

“Officially, I’m not,” you say. “But I’ve been coming to mass for about a year, ever since my grandmother died. She used to come twice every week. It’s been…comforting. I feel closer to her this way.”

A light of understanding moves across his features. “I see,” he says. “That’s a good way to honor her.”

You are amazed at the sudden tears that threaten to spill over in your eyes. “And you? Are you religious at all?” you ask as a distraction.

“Not really,” he whispers. “I sang in a church choir once, but that’s about it.”

He notices how your eyes light up. “Do you sing, then?” you ask with interest.

“Yeah, a bit,” he admits. “Why? Is that a dealbreaker?”

You laugh quietly. “No, not at all. I just didn’t expect it.”

He shrugs. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

You roll your eyes again. “So do you believe in God?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

“Do you believe in anything?”

“I believe in plenty,” he replies. “Fate…love at first sight…”

“I’m being serious,” you insist. “I don’t know if I can see myself with someone who doesn’t have some kind of guiding principle that gives them integrity. It doesn’t have to be religion, but you have to have some kind of moral compass.”

He thinks for a moment. “Well, I guess I believe that we should treat others well,” he starts.

“Why?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer right away — and you appreciate that he actually does seem to take the genuine questions you’re asking seriously. After a minute he replies, “I guess because I’ve personally found the highest level of satisfaction in my life when I’m in harmony with those around me. And that’s something I can control. I can’t stop others from disliking me or not sharing my opinions, but I can always treat them well regardless of those things, and we can coexist.”

The priest begins the processional just after San finishes talking, and so you don’t get to tell him how impressed you are with that answer. But you find yourself glancing over at him during the service, giggling softly when he repeats back to the priest later than everyone else, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks when he catches you staring and shoots back a subtle wink.

And then when mass is over, and he leans over to you and you can smell the spicy-sweet scent of his shampoo, you have to catch your breath. “So, what now?” he asks with that same suggestive glint in his eyes.

“Now I need to go to confession,” you say firmly, although you can’t help a grin.

“I’ll come too,” he says, but you tug him down before he can fully stand up.

“Hold your horses,” you say, and although you’re nervous in a way that makes you feel like your skin is on fire, you fix him with a stare, your expression serious.

You take a breath. “Seriously, why me? I’m sure there are other pretty girls you’ve seen before, but it’s a little extreme to go to all this trouble.”

His smile softens. “You’re worried about my intentions?” he asks lightly, sliding across the bench to sit as close to you as he can.

“Shouldn’t I be? I mean, you’re a stranger who followed me into church,” you joke quietly. And you’re surprised to realize as you say it that even though he’s been persistent, you never felt unsafe. Indeed, you have the feeling that if you had ever seriously told him to get lost, he probably would’ve listened to you.

San seems to watch all these thoughts passing through your head, and he pulls one of your hands into both of his own. “Give me a shot,” he says softly. “If we’re talking about belief, let me tell you something else I believe in. I believe that sometimes you can get a sense about someone before you really talk to them. And this is going to sound crazy, but if there was such a thing as past lives, I’d be certain I knew you long before I saw you in that coffee shop.”

You draw in a shaky breath, your heart soaring in elation at this confession in spite of yourself. He’s playing with your fingers, his eyes flickering in the dim light of the church. And he looks so adorably nervous at the admission he’s just made that you can’t help but nod after only a second’s consideration. “Okay, Choi San. I’ll give you my phone number. A deal is a deal, after all.”

He hands you his phone. “For the record, mass was pretty interesting too,” he tells you.

You scoff. “Like you were paying attention at all,” you say as you type in your number, which you’ve saved under the name “church girl” with a black heart emoji.

“I might have been a bit distracted,” he allows, “but I do also like learning about things like this.” He takes his phone back from you and laughs at the contact name. “Wow, when do I get to know your name? At our wedding?”

“Maybe after our third kid, I’ll consider it,” you say dryly, standing up and tucking your jacket over one arm. “Now, I have some sins to confess.”

He stands up with you. “I’m coming too,” he says.

“Don’t you have everything you need?” you ask him with a grin, gesturing at the phone still in his hand.

“Almost,” he says. “But I’ve done a lot of sinning in my life. Maybe I’ll have a religious epiphany if I talk to someone about it.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you in an anthropology class right now? Like, this has gotta be homework or something at this point.”

He laughs. “No, I am genuinely interested to know what confession is like,” he assures you. The both of you make your way to the confessional. “What do I say?” he whispers as you get close.

“You start with crossing yourself,” you say, and you guide his hand in the correct motions. “Then you say ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.’”

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” he repeats. “Then what?”

“List your sins,” you say. “But don’t say all of them. He doesn’t have all night.”

“Okay,” he says in amusement. “Anything else?”

“At the end say ‘I’m sorry for this and all my sins’.”

“What if I’m not sorry?” he asks.

“Then say it anyway,” you say with a shrug.

“Isn’t that lying, though? Which is also a sin?”

You have to bite back another laugh at his question. “I think you’re taking this a bit too seriously,” you say. “Maybe only confess the sins you feel sorry for if it offends you to lie to a priest.”

He nods. “Fair enough. Can you confess sins you haven’t done yet?” he asks, feigning innocence, but you know exactly what he means.

You snort, swatting his arm. “Um, that’s called the sale of indulgences, and the church stopped doing that in the 1500s I’m pretty sure.”

He tsks in disappointment. “Oh, well. I guess it was worth a shot. Do you want to go first? I’m sure you’re going to take a lot less time.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “I wouldn’t be so sure. There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, either.”

He shakes his head. “That was sexy,” he whispers after you as you move past him toward the confessional.

You shush him. “Don’t say stuff like that in church. You’ll get struck by lightning.”

“That’s why I whispered it,” he says defensively.

“God can still hear you,” you say, giving him a little wave as you shut yourself in the booth.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you say, crossing yourself. “It’s been a week since my last confession.”

“Hey,” the priest says casually behind the grille. You recognize the voice of your favorite priest, Father Paul.

“Hi, Father Paul,” you say.

“Doing missionary work, I see,” he says.

“Huh?” you say.

“The young man you brought with you today,” he says, a hint of humor in his voice.

“Oh, that. Um, I didn’t bring him, he followed me,” you say.

“He didn’t seem to bother you,” Father Paul observes. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much in church.”

You blush. “Are you gonna let me confess my sins, or what?”

“Fine,” says Father Paul, and you can hear the eye roll in his voice. “But next week you’d better have some more interesting sins for confession.”

“Father Paul!” you exclaim. “Isn't it a sin to encourage others in sinning?”

Father Paul gives a derisive laugh. “My child, I sit here in this booth for four hours twice a week and listen to people confess their problems with a spouse or disagreements with a neighbor. And now you come in here with a man who looks like that? Is it a greater sin to give in to the natural man, or to refuse to acknowledge a blessing when it comes?”

“This is a conversation I absolutely did not expect to have...ever, in any place, but definitely not here,” you say, your whole face redder than a tomato.

“Well, let me give you some revelation from beyond, then. If I were your grandmother, God rest her soul, I would tell you that seeing you alone for so long has been difficult for people who care about you. It may be time to let someone in.” He clears his throat. “Now, you may make your confession.”

Shaken, you do this quickly. Father Paul absolves you, and you clear out the booth.

San is waiting right outside. “So, you’re forgiven,” he says, in the tone of someone observing the weather.

“Spic-and-span,” you say. “Your turn. You remember what to do?”

“I’ll figure it out,” he says, heading into the booth.

You head from the confessional into a tiny room where votive candles and a small statue of Mary Magdalene are kept, keeping the door open so that San will be able to see you after he leaves confession. You sit at the small bench, breathing deeply, trying to calm yourself.

You aren’t used to being affected so much, but the man making what is certainly one of Father Paul’s more interesting confessions has upended everything normal in your life. You know what your grandmother would say -- “God likes to keep us on our toes.” “Well said, Granny,” you murmur to yourself, watching one of the flames flicker mesmerizingly in the otherwise dark room.

“Hey, Church Girl,” says a voice behind you.

You jump and turn around. It’s San, standing there in the doorway watching you carefully. You stand, suddenly flustered. “Uh, hey. You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he says, looking at you strangely. He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. “You okay?”

“Yes,” you reply breathily. “Um, just thinking about my grandma.”

“Got it,” he says, empathy at the corners of his tone. He comes to stand beside you. “I’m sorry to have interrupted.”

You give him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, really. So, you didn’t take very long in confession.”

“Nah, I don’t regret very many of my sins,” he says easily. “Father Paul seems cool, though.”

“He introduced himself?” you ask, surprised.

“Yep,” he says. “He talked about you.”

“Oh, did he?” you ask nervously. “What did he say?”

“He told me to take care of you,” he says simply.

“And what did you tell him?” you ask suspiciously.

He hesitates. “My sins,” he says finally. “Which turn out to be my failings as a romantic partner. I just told him all the ways I was worried I’d disappoint you.” He gives a soft laugh, and you look him up and down, fixating on his hands.

They’re shaking.

Before you can think, before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab him by the front of his coat and pin him against the wall closest to the door. And then you tell him your name before pressing your lips to his.

He catches your face in his hands as you do, the pads of his fingers slightly rough but warm against your cheek and jaw and the back of your neck. His lips on yours are hungry but gentle, and his hands pull you back whenever you try to come up for air. You have to clutch at him to stay upright as the room starts spinning, and he moves his arms to your waist to support you as he kisses you again and again and again, until your lips feel bruised and you can hardly remember anything but the feel of his skin under your fingertips.

Finally, you break apart, gasping for breath. San’s chest heaves against your own, and he leans his forehead to yours. “What was that for?” he asks breathlessly.

“That was the trade-off,” you say with a laugh. “Phone number for mass, kiss for confession.”

“For real? What do I get if I go every week?” he asks eagerly.

“I guess we’ll see,” you say, brushing a stray strand of hair off his forehead.

“I like the sound of that,” he says, his arms tightening around your waist.

You lean against him, letting your head rest on his chest. “Me too.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #choi san x reader #choi san fluff #choi san #san fluff #san imagines #san of ateez #san x reader #san x you

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lau219 · 4 months

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Full disclosure that this is the very first time I’ve ever posted anything on any platform, although I’ve been writing for myself as an outlet for years. ‘Gulp’

……….……………………………………………………………………

Red Carpet

Part 1

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, he looked damn good as he stood before the hundreds of flashing bulbs. His outfit was perfect – stylish yet casual, and his confident and laid-back stance made him all the more alluring. His thick, dark hair was tousled in the most appealing way, and she imagined (to her dismay) her own fingers tangling in those locks as she watched him absentmindedly run a hand through it as he spoke to a reporter.

He had his trademark expression – pleasant, but almost hinting as if he felt he was too good to be there, which he undoubtedly did. Regardless, he was painfully gorgeous, and Lauren felt a heat run to her core as she saw him give a cheeky smile and roll his eyes at the reporter he’d struck up a banter with. He was so damn cocky. And it only fueled him on when he briefly averted his eyes to her and he caught her watching him, their gazes meeting briefly, his beautiful icy blue eyes boring into her. Lauren’s heart skipped a beat as his signature smirk unfurled across his face before he turned back to the reporter.

“Shit,” Lauren muttered to herself under her breath. Why did she have to get caught ogling him? He would no doubt bring it up later, taunting her about it. Why did he always single her out? Sure, she gave it right back to him every time, but it was becoming exhausting to always have to deal with his asshole remarks.

————————————————————

“Liked what you saw out there, did you, sweetheart?”

Lauren immediately tensed at his voice, squaring her shoulders before turning around to face him.

“I could see you undressing me with your eyes from across the way,” he continued with a smirk. “Hope you brought a change of panties.”

Lauren’s jaw clenched as she gripped her champagne glass tighter. No after party in the world had enough booze to make this tolerable.

“Not necessary, believe me,” she responded. “In fact, what I was wondering was how that reporter could stand to hold a prolonged conversation with you without clocking you in the face. Lord knows I’d seize that opportunity.”

Cillian smiled widely at her, clearly amused. Goddamn, he was hot.

“Really? I’d never peg someone as pretty as you as the violent type. I suppose it’s always the ones you least expect.”

Did he just call her pretty? Her heart raced at the compliment, but then she shook herself. Get it together, Lauren, she thought. You hate this man, and suddenly you’re fawning over a backwards compliment that stemmed from him giving you a hard time? He didn’t even mean it like that.

“Yes, it is, so keep that in mind the next time you think about pushing my buttons,” she responded.

At that, Cillian took a step closer to her and leaned in, pinning her against the wall as he planted a palm above her shoulder.

“Seems to me, there’s one particular button you’d love for me to push.” His voice was low as he looked into her eyes.

Lauren’s pulse raced and she swallowed dryly as she pressed back into the wall. When he lifted his free hand and slowly dragged a finger up her side, from her hip to her breast, it took everything in her to contain a whimper. His face hovered in the crook of her neck for a moment, and his breath fanned over her skin, giving her goosebumps.

“How are those panties doing now?” he whispered in her ear.

The repeated jab immediately brought her back down to Earth.

“Oh, fuck you!” she spat as she put her hand on his chest and shoved him away. She tried to ignore the feeling of his pecs beneath his shirt.

Cillian just smiled again.

“Just name the time and place, sweetheart.”

Lauren narrowed her eyes.

“I’ve told you before, don’t call me that.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” he asked, his smile still present.

“Because it’s degrading. Don’t think I’m so dumb as to take it in any other way.”

“Hmmm,” Cillian pretended to wrestle with the idea. “It’s gone on far too long now; can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

“Well, then we should do the next best thing for a dog and cut your balls off,” Lauren replied.

Cillian laughed loudly.

“Again, with the violence,” he said. “All that pent up aggression isn’t healthy, sweetheart.”

Lauren huffed.

“For every time you call me that, I’m going to come up with a name for you.”

“Oh?” Cillian raised an eyebrow challengingly. “What did you have in mind? Daddy?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“’Shithead’ seems fitting,” she countered with a mischievous glare.

Cillian let out another laugh and shook his head.

“I’ve been called much worse.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that,” Lauren replied.

He smiled at her and ran a hand through his hair again. They then both turned to look as someone hollered Cillian’s name, wanting his attention across the room. He quickly turned back to Lauren.

“Gotta run,” he said. He then reached out and took the glass of champagne from her hand, taking a sip and walking away with it. “See you later, sweetheart.”

“Shithead!” Lauren shouted after him, but she knew it fell on deaf ears, the music drowning out the insult as soon as it left her lips.

Part 2

#cillian murphy #cillian fic #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x original character

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certaincollectionlandblog · 2 years

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Pete “Maverick” Mitchell with a younger SO

- Pete met you at the Hard Deck while you were celebrating your 21st birthday with some friends, your charm and laughter that filled the room managed to fill his heart and grab his attention

- He had Penny send over a beer to you to help the pretty girl celebrate her birthday and hoped deep inside that you didn’t see him as a pervy old man

- When you looked over at who Penny said bought you the beer you were in shock! It was an attractive older gentleman with kind eyes and a small smile on his face as he sat at the bar nursing one of the same beers he had Penny send your way.

- “What’s your name?” You shout across the bar and he laughs when he shouts back “Pete, all of my buddies call me Maverick”. You two were inseparable ever since.

- You never had any doubts in your relationship, but it did take Pete a little bit to not feel ashamed of how people looked at you two. You finally sat him down and told him that if he wants to continue to ask ashamed of you that you would leave him for someone that didn’t make you feel like a dirty little secret. Now that lit a fire under him! “Sweetheart you are never going to be my dirty little secret. I love you and I just worry that people will treat you differently because you’re with an old man like me. I don’t want you to look back later and regret us.” That had you crying as you grabbed his shoulders, looked him square in the eyes, and said “Pete Mitchell you make me the happiest girl alive and I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide me anymore! I want to meet your friends and your co-workers and hang out with their girlfriends and wives.”

- Pete invited you to stop by the base for lunch one day after he finished training his class at TopGun. Hangman walked in on you giving Mav a kiss on the check. “I didn’t know you had a daughter. Sweetheart you are gorgeous, maybe you could see me when you stop by to see pops sometimes” he says with a wink. You spit out your water laughing. “I may call him daddy, but he certainly isn’t my dad” you shoot back laughing even louder when that causes Mav to choke on his sandwich and Hangman to drop his jaw to the floor and walk out.

- Word of Mav and his younger hot girlfriend spread through the members of his class at TopGun. The boys just couldn’t believe it, but Phoenix thought it was nice to know another woman in town. You and Phoenix really hit it off and often spent time joking about what a dick Hangman could be.

- Maverick decided to move permanently near base so he could stay near you after the mission. In fact when he told you he was moving you invited him to live in your house with you! It had plenty of room and your grandmother had left it to you when she passed, so it meant a lot to be adding another chapter of life to house’s history.

- You jokingly have him in your phone as “old man” and he has you in his phone as “Y/N 🙂”. You would text him pictures of dogs you saw out while at work and running errands in the beginning and slowly it turned to baby items and cute married couples you saw. Now Mav is a smart man and he could pick up on things pretty fast. “Sweetheart do you have something you want to tell me?” He as you both are curled up on the coach. “What do you mean?”, “now I may not be as tech savvy as you, but when you’re sending me photos of baby stuff and couples I’m pretty sure you’re dropping a hint” he says as he plays with your left hand. You blushes hiding your face in his neck as you mumble and answer. “What was that sweetheart? You know I can’t hear you with my old man ears when you mumble” he says as he laughs. You giggle and raise your head up long enough to pipe out “I want to marry you and get to have your cute little babies and build a family together” before quickly hiding your face in his neck again. “Well honey I thought you would never ask” he says as he leans back so he can see your face. “You’re not mad at me or think we’re moving too fast?” “Honey I love you and I knew you were the one for me when I laid my eyes on you at the Hard Deck”.

- You two get married at City Hall after deciding that neither of you needed or wanted a fancy wedding to show your love for one another. Phoenix called you miss Mav for the first few weeks noticing it made you light up like a Christmas tree.

- Ultimately Maverick would love you and make sure that you two had fun together. He would learn to care less what others thought of the two of you and he knew that if anyone said anything to you about it that his entire class at TopGun, especially Phoenix would be ready to kick their ass.

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