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highvern · 2 months

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Work Me Out

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, 18+

Warnings: working out, flirting, touching, almost car sex, making out, breast play, fingering, oral, face sitting, multiple sex positions, big dick mingyu, protected sex (gasp!), strength kink, dirty talk, choking, spanking :) lover boy gyu as always. let me know if i missed anything!

Length: ~5k

Note: y'all thought cheol rot was bad but the OG bias wrecker is back. dont come at me for gym terminology i go by vibes. replaced my gym crush with mingyu and this is what happened <3 i have a bonus/pt 2 in the drafts too but I'll wait to post it bc too much muscle pig mingyu is bad for the soul... and the [redacted]

to the anon that sent me a seok ask forever ago about his arms, im sorry i used it in this fic. but know i have a seok fic with exactly what you asked for in the works rn. everyone say thank you anon.

@bbychocolat do not hit my line about mingyu for at least 24 business hours i need to recover

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

read part II

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Figuring out the ins and outs of a new gym isn’t easy but it isn’t impossible. Go too early and you’re surrounded by creepy men old enough to be your grandfather. Right after work is a sure way to experience hoards of gym bros crowding around machines like they own them.

So you go as late as possible.

Only a handful of people are dispersed through the large space. A few run on the treadmills lined on the catwalk of the second floor, several switch through different weights in front of the mirrors. You make your way through the maze of equipment towards the leg press; your final sets before you can go home and wash away the grime of the day.

Or you would if someone wasn’t occupying the one machine you need.

Peeping your head around, you notice a black backpack and matching water bottle on the ground. You glance around, unable to find a clear owner since the next closest person is halfway across the gym doing a different exercise.

Would it be that rude to take the machine out from under someone if they’re not even using it? You could probably get in all your sets before the person even came back if you moved quickly.

You wait a few minutes. How embarrassing would it be to have the mystery person walk back up the second you sat down? But after five minutes pass and no one emerges to claim the spot, you set about changing the weights out.

And just when you slip into the seat, you look up and find someone approaching.

He’s tall, he’s handsome, and he’s barely ten feet away. Your saving grace is that he hasn’t spotted you yet thanks to his phone.

But that doesn’t last long.

“Oh! Sorry! Were you using this machine?” You ask, trying to sound cordial.

“It’s okay!” He smiles at you. “Do you need it?”

Yes.

“No, I can find something else to do.”

You rise to do just that when he stops you with a shrug.

“I don’t mind sharing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I take long breaks between my sets anyway so it’s no big deal.”

So that’s where he went.

“Okay, thanks.”

“No problem.”

He moves to lean against the wall, face buried in his phone once again as you work through your set. Honestly you think he forgot you were even there until you start standing up and he pushes off his perch.

Exchanging polite smiles, you skirt around him and snag your water bottle before occupying the same spot against the painted bricks. You try not to be a creep but watching the way the muscles in his legs bulge and coil with each rep is impossible to look away from. Especially when there’s just so much to look at.

He racks up twelve reps with ease and switches back off with you before wandering out of sight.

You work through two of your sets before he comes teetering back.

“I tried putting it back to your weight.” You laugh, sipping from your water bottle.

“Three forty? Ouch.”

“What? Should I have made it lighter?”

“Try heavier. Like four hundred.”

“My sincerest apologies.” You mock, placing your hand over your heart. “I’ll remember that next time.”

He laughs again before slipping back into the seat and working through the motions.

This time you don’t bother hiding the way you watch him over your phone. He looks good, it’d be a waste not to watch the swell of his chest or the stretch of his thighs. The gym shorts and snug black t-shirt only exacerbate how cut his physique is.

And if he makes a comment you can always twist your not so subtle gawking into a compliment about his form.

When he finishes his set again, he snags his bag and water bottle off the ground before turning to you. “All yours. Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

And he’s gone.

Over the next few weeks, you learn mystery man works out at the same time you. He’s there when you arrive and remains when you leave after an hour and a half of sweating and gasping like a dying fish, only absent on Wednesdays when you manage the most last luster workouts of your life. The disappointment the first time you realized you were looking for the backwards cap sticking out amongst the free weights would have been embarrassing but what's wrong with a little eye candy while breaking a sweat?

And what a great view he makes. Your brief peeks into the mirrored walls are full of nothing straining muscles and glowing skin. The first day he did arms in a cutoff tee will go down in history as the worst day of your life. Only rivaled by all the other days he works his legs in shorts accentuating just how nice his ass is with every squat.

Your friends all ask when you’re going to talk to him again. As if you’ll just walk right up and interrupt the best part of your day. No, you’d rather watch him move across the gym floor from the corner of your eye, throw him a friendly nod, and go about your business than run the risk of making things awkward.

Unfortunately, doesn’t possess the same desire to remain a friendly nameless face like you do.

His name is Mingyu. Or that’s what the employee with glasses calls him while they joke around one night. You don’t mean to eavesdrop but they’re loud and the only exit takes you right past the U-shaped desk. Mingyu throws a grin as you pass by on your way out and the flash of teeth spikes your heart rate higher than any exercise you’ve done that night.

When he officially introduces himself at the water fountain the next night, you have to bite the urge to tell him ‘I know.’ Instead you snort at his extended hand, providing your own name over the firm shake like you won’t be haunted by the feeling of the calluses on his fingers or the heat of his palm for the next week.

What’s worse is how he says your name back, rolling the sound across his tongue and past his quirked lips.

And the final nail in the coffin is when you leave and you see the way he turns in the glass doors to watch, bidding you a goodnight with your name signed at the end.

Mingyu might be the worst gym crush in the world. Mostly because your thoughts of him extend beyond the brick walls he should only exist in. And partially because he’s caught you staring more times than you care to admit.

Not as many times as you’ve caught him, but the point stands.

No, the worst part, you find out, is Mingyu is an incorrigible flirt. And he knows it.

Tonight you’re off schedule, runny nearly half an hour later than usual.; work clothes sticking to your skin as you make your way towards the off shooting hall housing the entrance to the locker rooms. In a rush, you step around another body only to end up in front of one much more familiar.

“There's my girl.” Mingyu smiles. “Thought you were skipping out on me.”

My girl. My girl. My girl, my girl, my girl….

There isn’t a thought in your head beyond the bold casualness he drops that bomb on you with so you nod awkwardly and force yourself not to sprint the next twenty feet to hide.

Half an hour later, when you catch him watching you in the mirror over his own weights, the bastard smiles like the cat who caught the canary.

But you end up on top when Mingyu offers to spot you while doing weighted squats. He’s at your back, an appropriate amount of space between your bodies you wish he’d close. You don’t need his help. Your form is better than his (you would know, his ass and thighs give you tunnel vision when its his leg day). And the weight on the bar isn’t even enough to make you strain but why pass up on the offer? Especially with how Mingyu meets your eyes over your shoulder in the mirror with each dip.

And then he cheers ‘that’s my girl’ again when you re-rack the equipment with ease and it's over.

“Shit,” you grunt.

Mingyu pops up from his perch between your breasts under your shirt, hair a mess and eyes glazed. “Good?”

“No, your steering wheel is in my back.” You wince, attempting to wiggle away and ending up further up his lap.

“Sorry, let me just…”

The seat flies back under your combined weight, throwing your forehead right into Mingyu’s chin.

“Fuck!”

“Oh my god!” You gasp. “Are you okay?”

Mingyu’s head falls back as he releases a massive sigh. Each second that ticks by has you both coming to the same conclusion.

“Yeah,” you breath, sitting up. “I think this was a bad idea.”

“Oh…”

“I just mean like your car is small and you’re too big and I—“

The guffaw Mingyu tries to hide slips free too easily. “That’s what she said.”

“God, you’re gross.”

Your nose crinkles as you rise up, using his chest for leverage. It feels as nice as it looks and its the worst knowledge you’ve gained in you life.

“Sticks and stones,” he hums.

“Well this was fun. I’ll ugh… see you around?”

When you try to shift back into the passenger seat to exit, Mingyu’s hands flex over your thighs to keep you in his lap. His sweats do nothing to hide his semi. Something he doesn’t even seem to consider as a concern given the way he unconsciously curls into you.

“Or we can go back to mine.”

He’s trying and failing to sound nonchalant. Like he won’t go home and fuck his fist in the shower with the echoes of your sighs filling his ears if you turn him down. You can see it in his eyes. What hinges on his offer and how much you’ll both regret it if the tension fizzles and dies in his SUV.

From where you’re sitting, it’s incredibly difficult to think with your head and not your hormones. Mingyu is hot, he’s nice, he seems decent enough. His behavior doesn’t hint at him being a creep. If he’s normal enough to fuck in his car, is he not normal enough to fuck in the comfort of a bed?

The thumb stroking your thighs and the hopeful eyes staring you down make the decision for you.

“Yeah, okay.”

With his address in your phone’s GPS, you trail after his SUV in your own car. The roads are familiar because they’re the same roads you drive when you return to your apartment that turns out to be only three blocks closer to the gym than Mingyu’s.

All this time he’d been so close and you never even realized. Did he think about you the same way you thought about him when he drove home? If he did, you’re in for a night.

Rolling into a space only a few down from where he parks, you pause to hype yourself up.

People have sex all the time. It’s no big deal. I can do this.

A knock at the window interrupts your spiral, finding Mingyu smiling sheepishly through the glass. The muscles in your chest squeeze when he opens the door and holds it for you to exit; and threaten to explode when his hand finds the small of your back and guides you towards the stairwell.

Footsteps echo down to the hall, Mingyu only a fraction ahead to lead the way to a non-descript door with a seasonal doormat that's seen better days.

“Ugh, this is it.”

His apartment is shockingly clean for a guy your age. Not clean in the ‘I don’t own enough shit to even be dirty’ way. No, Mingyu’s apartment is cozy. There’s throw pillows and blankets on the couch. He has a lamp and bookshelf in the corner and the walls are adorned with a collage of artwork thoughtfully pieced together. Several personal photos are littered throughout, some with an obviously younger Mingyu propped next to what must be a sister or a cousin, a few of him with friends. One of him and a familiar man with glasses, their faces blurry but the glee clear as they’re frozen in time. Your lips lift with a soft smile at the personal touches bleeding into every corner of his space.

Turning over your shoulder you ask, “You and the guy at the gym are friends?”

Mingyu’s watching you with something unidentifiable in his eyes, stepping forward to figure out which frame you're looking at until he’s only a foot behind you.

“Yeah, we went to the same middle school.”

“And this one?” You say, fingers tracing the edge of the wooden frame.

“My little sister.” Mingyu follows, still only a step behind.

“And I’m assuming these are your parents?”

“Actually those are Wonwoo’s parents.” He chuckles. “These are my parents.”

Mingyu’s arm reaches around to point at the correct photo, his chest brushing against your back.

“Wanna give me the tour?”

Mingyu manages to show you everything in five minutes. The living room and connected kitchen you’re already standing in, the door of the hall bathroom, and finally his bedroom. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, discovering the new smattering of details that uncover more about the man waiting with baited breath in the threshold.

“Why are you over there?” You ask.

With arms crossed and shoulders up to his ears, Mingyu resembles a kid waiting to be scolded rather than a man who tried to hook up with you in his car less than thirty minutes ago.

“I’m nervous.”

You can’t stop the satisfaction from spreading to your face. “I make you nervous?”

Mingyu pushes off the door jam, shuffling forward until he’s standing a foot in front of you. “Yeah. I don’t really do stuff like this.”

“Stuff like what? Try and fuck girls in your car?”

“Haha.” Mingyu mocks, face descending until he rubs his nose with yours.

Your eyes slip closed when his do, breathing each other's air. “Stuff like what, Gyu?”

Your hands find the material of his shirt stretched across his shoulder. Each brush of his lips across your cheek, down your jaw, until he finds your ear.

“I don’t sleep around with girls I’m not dating.”

Oh.

“We don’t hav—”

“Which is not the best way to ask you out.”

You press him out of your space, far enough that you can look him in the eyes and see if he’s serious. The tips of Mingyu’s ears burn red but he’s looking right at you despite how embarrassed he clearly feels.

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“Ugh, yeah. I think it’d be fun. But you don’t have to! If you just wanna do this that's fine t—”

Whatever words Mingyu was trying to say fizzle on the tip of his tongue as you pull him into a kiss. He curls over you, pressing you further into his bed with every fervent pass. Wedging one hand under the small of your back, Mingyu lifts you up and carries you while he crawls to the center.

Your mind wanders to all the other ways he can manhandle you into the mattress.

He settles flat against you, hips cradled between your own while delving into your mouth. You fill your hands with his ass, dragging Mingyu’s covered cock against your core. A groan backs apart your lips as Mingyu falls into the curve of your neck.

“This is a yes to the date by the way.” You pant now that he’s taken over, hands scratching up his back in an effort to get rid of his shirt. “In case that wasn’t clear.”

Mingyu’s clothes disappear over his head and across the room, yours following shortly after. The heat of bare skin on bare skin is better than anything until he takes one of your breasts in his palm and the other in his mouth.

Every curse you know flies through your lips as he sucks and pinches until you're sore between the legs.

He takes the squeeze of your thighs and the rock of your hips as a greenlight, hands leading where his lips follow until it’s nothing but your panty clad core an inch from his face.

“This okay?” Mingyu asks in the fat of your thigh, tongue trailing fire across the skin.

You nod with a sigh, “Mingyu, please.”

He doesn’t need much more than that, the fabric barrier gone in a blink and his nose traces your folds until he’s dying for a taste.

Mingyu eats pussy like he doesn’t need oxygen. The path of his pointed tongue around your clit is nothing short of precise, meticulously tracing every ridge and curve until the sheets stretch under your fingers. When he flattens it to pay broader attention, your legs squeeze and Mingyu’s hands force them wide around his shoulders.

Your feet flatten on the bed and thrust up his mouth, wet and crude with fingers in his hair and your whines in his ears. Every suck of Mingyu’s mouth forces the muscles in your neck to lerch until they hurt and your head falls back. He takes pride in the way you drip for him, making the best mess he’s ever had the privilege to clean up.

You reward him with an lavishing praise at the next twitch of your insides, “Fuck, just like that.”

Taking advantage of the slight arch in your spine, Mingyu’s hand sneaks under your back, fingers unforgiving as they dig into your ass. He curls your hips up and buries a finger in your core with mortifying ease.

Between your legs, Mingyu catches your eyes. Pupils blown wide, mouths bruised around stuttered breath. A matching set of debauched expressions. He’s more familiar like this; skin glowing with sweat, and hair matted to his forehead. Next time you see him at the gym you know it's all you’ll think about. Next time you're alone in your room, or the shower, or the grocery store. Or anywhere you’ve day dreamed about him before.

He leans back to watch the digit disappear, only to reappear soaking. “Feels good?”

“Give me another and it will.”

You savor the rhythm he sets, thick fingers working to prep you for what you felt under his shorts. His tongue is hard and wet at your clit, fingers stretching and spreading until your stomach dips and you nearly buck him off as your clit swells from abuse.

Your fingers pluck at your nipples and Mingyu apparently likes to watch because he manages more enthusiasm, forces his finger to crook just the right way, and continues to suck even after you start screaming.

“Oh fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You chant, voice cracked.

Something sounding suspiciously like a ‘thank you’ drops into the mix but Mingyu’s the only one to hear it. In his opinion, he should be the one doing the thanking; you just gave him enough spank bank material for the next six months.

You don’t dislike the taste of yourself on his tongue, his lips, his chin, his cheeks, and even his chest when you flip Mingyu over and aim to return the favor. He blushes when you lap against the hollow of his throat; embarrassed from the way he goes boneless with such simple affection.

He sinks into the plush of the mattress, propped up by the mountain of pillows at the headboard. Mingyu’s stomach stiffens under your tongue and the twitch blooms a smile on your face. Predictable.

“Sensitive?”

Your nails raking up the shape of his thighs turn the denial falling from his lips into a whine, and it makes you wonder what other sounds Mingyu will make with his cock in your mouth.

The vein bulging along the underside of his length gives your tongue something to trace along as you lap from base to flared tip, sucking down until it shines from spit and pre-cum. You take all you can until the curve of your throat protests.

Mingyu’s big and he’s loud.

“Oh God, shit.” He babbles with abandon, hands fisted at his sides until his knuckles turn pale.

You focus on the cock in your mouth rather than how pretty Mingyu’s chest would look covered in bite marks. How a bruise on his hip would be just visible when he reaches over his head to do pull ups, and red streaks from your nails on his bicep would make a great accessory.

A hand lands on the base of your skull, gentle until it's not. His thumb dips to stroke the bulge of his dick through your throat as you take him deeper. And like some ridiculous porno theres still an inch you’ll never be able to take even if you do nothing but let him fucking your mouth until the only thing you taste is cum.

“Fuuuuck,” Mingyu groans from a harsh suck on the upstroke.

He distracts you with his tongue on yours, keeping you from diving back down and destroying his ego from how quick you almost made him cum. Your one solace is the lazy grip you have on the base of Mingyu’s length, fingers tightening around the head while he cants into the squeeze.

You think Mingyu is going to plant you on his cock and make you ride it until one of you is crying. But he keeps pushing and pulling until you’re kneeling over his face, knees cushioned in the pillows and hands against the wall to steady you while he dives in again.

His head shakes back and forth, tongue out to swipe messily at your clit as you grind into his face. The last grip of sanity you have gives you the mind to reach back, jerking Mingyu off while he eats it, a cycle of moans moving through you; him into your folds when you squeeze from a grating pass off his tongue that has you whining to the ceiling fan.

“Shit, need you to fuck me.” You whine but don’t stop curling against the latch of his lips, legs stiff with ache.

It’s Mingyu who brings things to a halt, raising you away from his mouth until you're left on your knees while he stands to rummage in the drawer for a condom. You listen while the paint of the wall cools your forehead.

The hand at the dip of your spine makes you melt when he checks in, “Still okay?”

Nodding, you find him over your shoulder with a thick swallow. Mingyu’s nose follows the slope of your muscles, lips untying all the knots he’s worked into them over the past few weeks.

“Want it like this?”

“Yeah.”

You drop until your chest meets the bed and arch until it hurts just to put on a good show. Mingyu shuffles behind you, knocking your knees wider with his own, palms molding to your ass and spreading it apart to take a good look like he wasn’t tongue deep inside your pussy already. The room is nothing more than the sounds of grounding breaths; Mingyu watching the way your torso moves around the air, releasing a long exhale before moving closer.

The feel of his chest against yours was great, but the hard muscle of it along your back, his chain caught between and leaving a definitive mark, is life ruining. It shreds the last bit of humanity you’ve been clinging to since you dragged Mingyu to the parking lot and tried to stick your hands down his pants while leant against the passenger door.

No matter how well Mingyu stretched you for his cock it was never going to be enough. Taking the first inch nearly splits you in half. But you're soaked and needy; nothing short of the end of the world is going to keep you from getting the satisfaction of feeling him in your guts. You take it with measured breaths and affirmations to relax. Slow arches of his hips work him in until he’s flat with your ass and whispering absolute depravity into your ears.

“Fuck, you’re tight.”

Arching your ass higher, you whimper, “You’re huge.”

Your ass stings under his punishing hand, thrown forward by an involuntary buck of his hips.

“Don’t say that.”

You turn until you can look over your shoulder again, meeting wild eyes. “You feels so good.” You moan, eyelids low and wrecked.

“Didn’t—shit, think you’d have such a dirty mouth.” He bites into the side of your neck, sucking a bruise like a depraved teenager.

“I knew you’d have a fat cock.”

You get what you want so easily it's almost insulting; Mingyu’s hand forcing your face into the sheets and his hips rushing into you with pure need. Every prod into your cunt has you wailing. It’d destroy your self respect if you could think of anything beyond how he’s ruining you for anyone else.

Pillows topple off the edge of the bed as you scramble for a hold. Anything to ground you against the burn in your veins with every tight squeeze around Mingyu’s cock. His balls slap against your clit teasingly, more degrading than the way he has you bent in half.

“Harder,” you beg.

Mingyu falls back on his haunches, pulling you with him until you're sitting up right. His arm comes into view, curling around neck until your throat sits in the crux of his elbow and his hand latches on your shoulder; a crude headlock he uses as leverage to keep fucking into you. You’ve been choked but this is infinitely better. Whatever Mingyu wants to take from you, he’s in a position to do so.

“Gonna cum?” He nips into your earlobe.

His hand shoves its way between your legs, swipe roughly against your clit before you can even hope to answer.

A pathetic nod is all you manage thanks to the muscles gathered under your chin limiting your mobility.

Mingyu let's go then and your hands prevent a crash into the headboard, putting you back in the same position as before but you have to work for it now; ass bouncing in his laps as you ride him. Finding your balance, you drop one hand to your clit as Mingyu’s pinch your nipples.

“Let me have it, let me make you come." Mingyu pants into your spine. "Fuck you look so good like this, shit.”

He keeps rambling, flying with you towards the edge hand in hand; both breathless from the slap of your thighs against his.

“Mingyu, feel so good. Oh my god, oh my g—”

The softness of the pillows greets you once again while everything flashes white. Mingyu scrambles behind, fucking you into the mattress while you soak his cock. Muscles twitching, teeth ground till they crack, you come and come and come while begging him to do the same.

Mingyu gives in without hesitation, all his weight behind his hips as he fills the condom; dragging you back with an arm around your waist. Every jerk of his cock against your walls from the force makes you vibrate until he’s slipping out, soiled and used against the back of your thigh.

The last thing you register is his lips finding your shoulder again, rubbing back and forth as he comes down.

You fall asleep under the heat of his body for who knows how long, content in the mind shattering numbness of what just happened. Mingyu seems to feel the same, dead weight hanging half off you so you can at least manage to breath.

When you wake, whether it's twenty minutes or two hours later, Mingyu is snoring into the pillow, still naked. His lips pout in his sleep and you swallow the urge to shower them with kisses thanks to the drool at the corner of his mouth.

Even without the covers, you're warm. The kind of heat that slips over your skin, sinks into your bones and keens for you to fall asleep and stay. But Mingyu asked you on a date, not to spend the night. And you’d hate to assume and ruin whatever this is before it as a chance to start.

“Where are you going?” He pouts.

You don't make it two inches out of his arms before he’s pulling you back, tangling them around you so there's no chance of unnoticed escape. Mingyu digs his nose into your cheek and waits for an answer like he has all the time in the world.

Something tells you if he knew you were attempting to head home, Mingyu would throw a fit. And what use is that when you want to see what a night sleep with a giant human furnace is like?

“Bathroom.”

Adding to the list of information you’ve learned, Mingyu is a stage five clinger. He latches on to your back, guiding you into the shower stall for a quick spray down that leaves half your face, part of your thigh, and almost none of him clean.

He falls asleep against the base of your skull while brushing your teeth, because of course he has a stash of extra toothbrushes under the sink just in case.

And when you crawl under the fresh sheets, he pulls you into his chest, leaves a kiss against your forehead, and tells you he can’t wait for your breakfast date tomorrow.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

#svthub #ksmutsociety #kvanity #svt x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #kim mingyu #svt smut #seventeen smut #kim mingyu smut #🫡 highvern

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scarletlizzard · 1 month

Text

Inked Desires - Part 2

Read Part 1 right here

Summary: After your one night stand with a stranger turns into a regular hookup, feelings begin to develop between you and Natasha. A night out at the bar with your friends has her begging wanting more with you.

Pairing: gp!Natasha x fem!Reader

Tags MINORS DNI: natasha has a dick, buff out this world & covered with tats and piercings, little bit of yearning and pining, mentions of alcohol, smut, blowjob, unprotected sex, breeding, begging, miscommunication

Masterlist

A/N: Part 1 blew up like crazy! I never ever thought I would EVER get that many notes. Especially for, essentially, a smut piece I wasn't used to writing. After being asked a few times, I agreed to make a part 2, buuut I've been in a (bad) writing rut lately. So I wanna shout out the person who gave me so many good ideas and an actual plot to work with. Y'all can thank just her for there actually being a part 2 cause there almost wasn't one 🙏 Thanks for helping, kisses for your big brilliant brain.

Hopefully, she and y'all like it? It's a bit longer. Let me know what you think, please, and thank you thank you so much for reading 💞

That being said, there will be a part 3 😄

"Split? Like down the middle?" Kate asks with a look of shock on her face. You walk in step beside her along the concrete path on campus.

"Right down the middle," you laugh and adjust the bag on your shoulder, thinking back to just a few days ago when Natashas skillful tongue worked its magic on your body. Your cheeks heat up at the memory.

That first night you met, Natasha had given you a kiss goodbye and gave you her number before you took a very drunk Kate Bishop home. Since then you had seen the redhead multiple times over the course of the last few weeks. Neither of you seemed to be able to keep your hands off of each other. Each time you met it was for sex, and even the time she had taken you to dinner it ended with you getting fucked into her mattress again.

You knew the basics about each other, where you lived, eachothers jobs... the more you thought about it the more it upset you. The physical level the two of you were on was heavenly, but really, well, you barely knew her.

Kates voice interrupts your thoughts as you enter the English building, and you stop walking as she does.

"What was that?" You ask, looking to the smirk plastered on her face with curiosity.

"I said, speak of the devil," she chuckles and nods her head in the direction of a very tall Natasha striding your way. "See you in there," Kate says and walks into the classroom, leaving you in the hallway.

You want to drown in the sight of her, wearing dark jeans and a white t-shirt with old, dirty vans on her feet. You smile, trying not to drool at the way you can see the pops of color show from underneath her shirt or the way the sleeves seem too tight against her biceps as she grips the strap of her backpack.

"Hey there..." Natasha greets you with a smile, head pointing down as she stills before you. "Been a few days, haven't heard from you," she adds, her eyes baring into yours. You want to slap yourself for not replying to her text by the almost hurt look in her eyes.

"Well it hasn't even been a week, you miss me already?" You ask her with a little tilt of your head up at her, biting your lip as you see a blush spread across her cheeks. Her hand moves to the side of her neck, scratching at the ink awkwardly.

"No, no. Wait, I mean -" She lets out a sigh and shakes her head as you giggle at her. It was interesting, the difference in her appearance verses this nervous demeanor. "Maybe I did?" Natasha raises an eyebrow, the silver ring lifting higher.

"I might have missed you too," you shrug casually and watch as her face eases back into a smile. "I'm sorry I haven't texted, I've just been so busy with school and work." You point to the classroom next to you that Kate had entered. She follows the direction and nods.

"No worries, you're a busy lady. I actually took Mr. Furys class last year. Maybe I could take you for a coffee and give you some tips? Or maybe just um, talk?" Natasha asks, her tone quiet as she looks down to you.

You smile at the sincerity in her eyes. "I'm free after this class?" You take a step back, towards the room and match the wide smile on her lips.

"Sounds perfect," Natasha nods, and you can't ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest. Instead of taking another step away you walk forward, leaning up on your tip toes to press a soft kiss to her cheek.

Natasha can feel the burn on her cheeks, the affect you had on her drove her wild. You lean back and smile at her flustered state, leaving her alone in the now empty hallway.

An hour and a half later, you emerge from the classroom, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering around at the sight of Natasha sitting on the floor. She had a book in her hand, closing it the moment she saw you and Kate walking towards her.

"Have you been sitting there this whole time?" You ask and tilt your head, watching the way her muscles flex as she runs a hand through her auburn hair.

"Uh, maybe?" A small blush hints on her cheeks, and she smiles at you and your friend. "I'm Natasha, by the way," she says and holds out her hand in front of Kate.

Kate chuckles at the formality, and you hit her arm, giving her a look. She shakes Natashas hand, "Kate... nice to finally meet you," She smiles back and looks next to her at you. "I'll see you tomorrow night, you should invite your friend."

You roll your eyes at Kates tease but nod and tell her you'll see her later.

"Coffee?" Natasha asks, and the ridiculous grin on her face is enough for you to agree to just about anything.

As you walk side by side, you can't help but admire her gentle personality. This woman, covered in tattoos and piercings with an intimidating gaze, was the complete opposite. She spoke to you about her schedule and that she was in school for sports medicine with a glint in her eyes.

"Like physical therapy?" You ask her curiously. You watched the way her face lit up at your interest, and she beamed down to you.

"Yeah, exactly that. If all else fails, I'll just be a personal trainer," she lets out a small chuckle, and you take the second she holds the door open for you to admire her toned body.

"How do I sign up? I need a good workout partner," you say with a flirtatious tone, brushing against her as you walk inside. You relish the blush on her cheeks and the small smirk on her lips as the smell of fresh coffee hits you.

"Didn't get a good enough workout last week?" Natasha replies.

"Oh, I had a great workout... but if I had a personal trainer, I'm sure I could get a good workout in at least a few times a week. Isn't that recommended?" You look up to her, seeing her neck redden and her eyes darken.

"I would definitely recommend that," Natasha mumbles as the two of you walk up to the counter.

As Natasha orders, you can't help but notice the change in her posture and attitude. Suddenly, she was standing straight, an impassive and series look on her face. Her tone was low as she talked to the woman at the counter. Natasha turns to you and nods for you to order. You do, and as she hands the woman her card, you smile up at her.

"Thank you for getting this for me," you say gratefully, watching her melt under your gaze. The smile was back, and her eyes came to life again. It seemed she had a soft spot for you.

"Of course, it's my treat," she says and walks you to a small table in the corner.

From there, you spend the entire rest of the evening actually talking and getting to know Natasha. As you already knew, she works out religiously, and you told her how lucky you felt that she had skipped her workout today just to sit down with you. She got her first tattoo at 18 and loved it, so she just never stopped getting them. The first piercing she got was on her eyebrow, and the same there, she just kept going.

It felt as if you were sitting in front of a whole new person than the one you met just weeks ago. The one who pile drived you into the mattress at a party and left you weak in the legs and sore the next day. Natasha was kind and sweet, funny, and surprisingly shy. Any time you made an attempt to flirt or give an innuendo, she would chuckle shyly and blush the slightest.

There were a few times you even had to squeeze your thighs as you thought back to that night. Any time her tongue would wet her lower lip or her eyes would travel to your neck. She loved your neck, you noticed. Every time you had hooked up her lips would go straight for the skin there, nipping at the few small freckles that adorned the area.

"That's a long time to be friends with someone," Natasha states as you finish telling her about yours and Kates relationship. Best friends since the fourth grade, completely inseparable.

"It's nice to have someone so close, who knows me so well. Especially since I'm an only child," you reply and watch her brow lift.

"Oh really? I have a sister, Yelena. She bugs the hell out of me, but I love her to death. She goes to the college just a couple of hours from here. Actually," Natasha looks at her phone, checking the time. "I'm supposed to meet her soon... she came home for the weekend."

You nod slowly and look around, realizing everyone had left and the two baristas were cleaning up. As the two of you stand, Natasha suddenly towering over at you, you feel a little disappointment in your chest. You were having more fun with her than you thought, and you found yourself not wanting to part.

"Hey, Kate and I are going to this bar tomorrow night. A few of our friends are getting together. Joes?" You say to her, smiling to yourself as she once again holds the door open for you.

"Yeah, I've been there a few times before," Natasha says with a grin, standing outside the coffee shop with you.

"If you want, maybe you and Yelena can meet us? You don't have to, of course, but..." You trail off.

"I will definitely be there. Text me a time?" She asks, and you nod happily. Natasha leans down, and you think for a second she's going to kiss you, but her lips land on the soft skin of your cheek. You put your hand on her arm as she does, feeling the tattooed skin burn underneath your touch.

****

Joes Bar is crowded, but that's to be expected on a Saturday night near a college campus. A local alternative band plays loudly on the small stage on one side of the room, and you find yourself on the opposite side sitting at the bar. Kate is nearby talking to friends and a few strangers, but you only had one person in mind.

You glance at your phone again, seeing no notifications. With a sigh, you finish your second drink, ordering a third as you contemplated the possibility she wasn't going to show up. This is why you didn't do this type of thing. You don't hook up with hot strangers. You don't get coffee with gorgeous, sweet women. You stayed to yourself, guarded your heart, and let yourself be safe from any type of rejection or heartbreak.

But God Natasha was worth breaking your rules.

You found your way back to reality as the bartender handed you a drink and said thank you before grabbing it and removing yourself from the bar stool. As you turn, you bump into someone, almost spilling your drink on them.

"Oh shit I'm so sorry!" You apologize, shaking the liquor off your hand as you had spilled a little on yourself.

"It's okay, I was just trying to squeeze in next to you," the woman says, and in your tipsy state, you raise an eyebrow. She seemed about your age, dirty blonde hair, and a familiar grin on her lips. You definitely hadn't seen her in here before.

"I was just getting up, actually. You can have my seat. Is that an accent I hear?" You ask curiously, moving out of the way so she could take your place.

"Yeah, I still have a bit of an accent, I was born in Russia. Lived there for a while," she says and nods. She then orders two drinks before turning back to you.

"Wow, you're a long way from there. You go to school here?" You ask her and sip your drink, feeling Kate stand behind you.

"No, but my sister does, though," the blonde smiles and grabs the two bottles of beer from the bartender. She looks at you and extends her arm towards Kate to hand her a bottle. You give her a confused look.

It's only then you realize, as an inked hand reaches over you to take the beer, that it's not Kate standing there, but Natasha. You turn instantly and look up, a habit your neck was quickly getting used to doing.

"Well, well, look who showed up," you say and take your bottom lip between your teeth. Natasha smiles at your words, noticing the way you take in her appearance.

If it was possible, Natasha looked hotter than ever. She wore a black t shirt underneath a leather jacket. Her flaming hair was behind her in a braid with a few loose strands framing her face.

"I see you've met my sister, Yelena," Natasha chuckles and nods in the direction of the blonde woman.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Natty here hasn't been able to shut up abou-" Yelena is cut off by Natasha flicking the bottle cap at her face, a stern expression on the older woman's face.

You smile at the siblings' banter, watching Yelena laugh and shrug innocently. Whether it be the alcohol flowing in your bloodstream or the way Natasha looked at you, you slide your hand into hers. She tenses at first, not used to the public display of affection from you, but quickly relaxes as you intertwine your fingers with hers.

"Come on, come meet everyone," you say and tug on her hand in the direction of Kate.

You find them huddled around a pool table, watching as Kate lines up the pool tip to the cue ball with one eye closed. Carol stands leaning against her own stick, shaking her head and putting out the cigarette she smokes into the ashtray on the edge of the table.

"Anyday, Bishop..." Carol groans, earning a laugh from the group.

"Seriously, how long are you going to take?" Peter chimes in.

Kate ignores them and continues to stare intensely at the 8 ball. Her arm begins to pull back to take the shot, but as Yelena comes into focus on the opposite side of the table, Kate is finally distracted by the beautiful blonde. The cue ball misses her target completely, rolling across the table and sinking into the pocket.

"Scratch!" Carol cheers and high fives Monica. Kate looked up at Yelena, her lips parted as if she was going to speak, but no words came out. Carol then steps up to the table and sinks the 8 ball, ending the game with a dramatic bow.

You smile at the group, raising an eyebrow at the silent state of your best friend. "Guys, this is Natasha and her sister Yelena," you say, receiving waves and friendly greetings from everyone. You introduce them to the Romanoffs a little more before they rack up for another game.

"You any good?" Carol nods to Natasha, who gives a humble shrug.

"I'm decent," she replies with a smirk on her face as she brings the bottle to her lips. Carol hands the pool stick over before going to get drinks for the group.

"Hope you're good, Romanoff. We still haven't beat Y/N," Peter says begrudgingly. You only hum in response as Kate hands you her stick, positioning yourself across the table.

"Is that so?" Natasha watches with playful eyes as you skillfully break, the balls rolling in different directions along the table and a few of them sinking into the pockets.

When you lean up, you smile and reach your hand up to pat her cheek. "Good thing you didn't bet anything," you chuckle.

After a few back and forth turns, Carol returns with shots, to which you all cheer and take at the same time. The alcohol was definitely settling its way into your system now, and you were hot to the touch each time Natasha had to lean down to take her shot. Between the focused look on her face and the way the pool stick slid between her fingers, it was enough for you to want her right there.

You step forward next to her, looking at the direction of the shot she was trying to take. "That's a tough one, baby," you say to her, the term of endearment catching Natasha off guard.

Her body visibly tenses as she looks to you with a visceral reaction and swallows hard. You feign an innocent smile, taking a mental note to call her that again just to see her reaction. Natasha misses the shot and curses under her breath.

"That's not fair," she says and shakes her head as she stands tall. The red head removes her jacket, finding that the room was getting hotter.

You shrug and easily pocket two more balls on your turn. When you look to Kate to make a comment about the shot, you realize she's strayed from the group, chatting up Yelena. With your friends being in their own worlds at the moment, you decide to have a little fun with Natasha.

"You're not so bad, you know. The others have a hard time keeping up with me," you smile as she leans down, and your hand rests on her back, rubbing over her shirt.

"Y/n," Natasha mumbles, the blush on her cheeks evident she enjoyed your touch.

"Yes, Nat?" You pur, watching the muscles flex understand the fabric. Knowing you had this type of effect on her gave you a sense of power that only made you hungry for more. Your hand slithers underneath the bottom of her shirt, nails scratching at her back. She misses. You smile.

"You're a cheater, you know that?" Natasha says in a playful tone, her body naturally leaning towards you.

Your hands rest on her stomach, "I don't know what you're talking about." You lean up and plant a soft kiss on her lips, smirking as she leans down and melts against your mouth. "I'm just having fun," you whisper.

At that, you step away from her, crossing over to the opposite side of the table. You lean down more than you need to, and you don't miss the way Natashas eyes dart back and forth from your breasts to your neck. She finishes another bottle, and you can tell you've stressed her out by the way her hand grips the glass.

You continue to do the same thing for the remainder of the game, teasing her with every shot she took and making sure to bend in front of her any chance you could. It came down to the 8 ball, and you had to admit, you were dragging the game on longer than you needed to.

"Last one," you sigh and put your hand on the back of her neck as she leans down. Your fingers squeeze gently as she clears her throat, trying to ignore the shivers that run down her spine every time you touch her. You lean down with her, your lips brushing against her ear. "Good luck, baby," you whisper and kiss her cheek.

Her neck gets red at your words, and her grip on the stick only tightens. You think it'll snap in half with how hard she holds it. Natasha quickly shoots and misses, causing you to raise an eyebrow with just how quick she took the shot. Instead of stepping back, she continues to stand pressed against the table. "All yours," she mumbles and holds her hand out to the table, shifting uncomfortably as she stands.

You line up the shot and sink the black ball easily, looking up at her with a wide smile. She only gives you a small smile back with a nod. "Aren't you going to give me a victory kiss?" You ask as you step back to her.

Natasha hesitates for a moment but finally turns to face you. Your hands move up to wrap around her neck, your body pressing against her front as she leans in. Before your lips can touch your eyes, widen the slightest. You now realize the reason for the sudden uncomfortable physical shift she had taken when you felt her bulge pressing hard against you.

"Oh... was I teasing you too much?" You ask with a smirk on your lips. She rolls her eyes and moves to pull away, but you don't let her. "What was it?" You ask her.

"What was what?" She replies, her hands moving to your waist. You press your body further into her and relish the hiss that leaves her mouth.

You search her eyes, thinking to the moment her demeanor had changed. Suddenly, there was that power-hungry feeling again when you realized the reasoning. The fact that you could get her hot and bothered by a simple word leaving your lips, by your voice alone, and the thought of you driving someone like her mad. Natasha was weak in the knees for you, and she struggled internally with the way you made her feel. She wasn't used to it.

"Why don't you let me help you take care of your little problem... baby, " you whisper to her, feeling her shoulders tense above you. "Come on." You slide back and take her hand in yours, leading her away from the pool table and towards the bathroom.

As soon as both of you are inside and you lock the door, the two of you are on top of each other just like the first night you met her. Natasha kisses you feverishly, like she'd never been kissed before, with your back hard against the door. You welcomed her tongue into your mouth, moaning as the two halves wrap around your own.

With one hand, you hold onto the front of her shirt, gripping tightly, with the other you slide it in between your bodies, letting yourself grope the hard bulge in her jeans. Natasha lets a hint of a whimper leave her lips, one you hadn't heard since the first time with her, and you smirk into the kiss.

"What's the matter, baby? Do you need some help?" You ask innocently, lips ghosting hers. She breathes heavily and nods as your hands move to undo her belt.

"Sweetheart... please," she says, and you decide in that moment that you need her to say that again. Just the idea that this strong, formidable woman could so easily melt in your presence made you thrilled.

Her hands rest on either side above your head, pressed flat against the door as you slide her pants down. You can see the precum dampening a spot on her underwear, and you feel yourself get wet at the sight of it. She needed you, bad.

"Please, what?" You ask, your hand moves to grab her through her boxers, and you stroke her length through the thin fabric.

"Fu-fuck," she barely breathes out, eyes searching yours. Natasha hadn't begged a day in her life, but she would happily beg for you. She was at the point right now that she was willing to get down on her knees and beg for you. You made her desperate.

"Please touch me, please. You feel how hard I am for you? Just -" You squeezing a little harder makes her gasp before continuing. "I need you to touch me. Please, sweetheart... please, " she begs. You smile at her words, enjoying the way her body melts at your touch and the way she begs for you.

At her words you slide down her boxers, and her cock twitches at the feeling of finally being released. She lets out a sigh of relief as your delicate fingers wrap around her. "Is this what you wanted?" You hum, beginning to move your hand up and down. Natasha nods, chest beginning to rise and fall rapidly at your movements.

When you stop, she looks at you with a disoriented look, eyebrows lifting as she watches you drop to your knees. You take her cock in your hand, letting your other rest on her thick, toned thigh. From here you can see her happy trail peaking from underneath her shirt, making your panties wetter. The way she looks down at you with a breathless expression and parted lips makes you want to live your life on your knees for her. Your lips kiss along the side of her length, teasing slowly with your tongue licking up it. Natasha groans with pleasure at the feeling and her hips instinctively buck towards you.

You give in, not wanting to tease her anymore tonight, and take her cock into your mouth. The moan that leaves her mouth is outright sinful, and her fist hits the door with a thud as you begin to bob your head. Your cheeks hollow out when you begin moving faster, taking as much of her as you could. When the tip hits the back of your throat your eyes sting, tears threatening to leave your ducts. Natasha pants heavily above you, savoring the moment of you on your knees for her, sucking her off.

"Look at you, such a pretty girl with my cock in your mouth- fuck," Natasha speaks low to you, her eyes dark as she watches her cock disappear against your lips. Your fingers on her thigh dig in, your nails digging into her skin to leave crescent shaped marks, at her words. "All night you've been teasing me... this is the only way to shut you up, isn't it?" She says and you moan against her, the vibrations sending her close to the edge.

Her breathing gets heavier and you can tell she's about to cum, but before she can you quickly remove your mouth, your saliva coating her as you release with a pop. You stand, not ignoring the frustrated look on her face.

"Baby, I think you're confused," you say, your hands moving to the top of your dress. "You're not in charge right now," You let out a small laugh and pull down on the fabric, letting your breasts spill out. Natashas face reddens in response, and she immediately moves to kiss your chest. You can feel the marks she leaves as her lips trail across your breasts, her skillful tongue pleasuring your sensitive nipples.

Natashas' large hands move to the bottom of your dress as her kisses begin to litter up your neck. You let her move the material above and over your hips, but stop her as she reaches your panties. "I wanna hear you," you mumble out. She lets out a huff and pulls away from your neck.

"Y/n... please." Natasha says. You only continue to look at her with innocent eyes. The fact that she would beg for you - is begging for you, made you feel instant gratification.

"Please, pretty girl? Please let me make you feel good. I want to fuck you, want to make you feel good so bad..." She begs, and you let her slide your panties down your legs. Natasha slides her tip between your closed thighs, her cock now being coated from the wetness that spread between your legs.

She slips in between your folds, waiting for your words. Her fingers dig into your hips. "You drive me so fucking insane," Natasha whispers as her head ducks to your neck again. "I could cum from just looking at you. Just hearing you say my name. You know how much control you have over me?" Her hips continue rocking against you, your thighs squeezing her hard cock. She begins to pant again, her neck red and hot to the touch as you wrap your arms around it, interlocking your fingers behind her head.

"Please," Natasha whimpers, and the sound is enough to make you moan. You needed to feel her inside you immediately, hear more of those moans leave her lips.

"Show me how bad you want me, how insane I make you feel," you finally say and lean forward to bite her lower lip. She wastes no time lifting you up, helping you wrap your legs around her hips. Your back presses against the door again and with one hand she guides her cock inside of your warm velvet walls, easily ,with how wet you were for her.

Natasha begins to thrust up into you, a feeling you had become accustomed to these past few weeks, although you weren't sure you'd ever get used to her size. She groans against your chest, nipping at the skin. The small bathroom fills with the sounds of her pounding into you, both of you moaning practically in sync with every thrust.

"So good, pretty girl, feel so good wrapped around my cock. I love fucking this pretty pussy," she breathes heavy against your skin as she speaks. You hold on tightly to her, only breathless moans escape your lips in response.

Suddenly, from the outside, someone bangs on the door, Natasha doesn't halt her descent on you. "Can you hurry the fuck up in there?" A stranger yells from the other side. Your eyes widen, a little bit of adrenaline rushing into your chest as she continues fucking into you.

Natasha smiles, now at your flustered state. "Occupied," is all she replies before her thrust picks up the pace. "You better keep quiet, sweetheart. You don't want everyone to know how much of a slut you are for me, letting me fuck you in the bathroom."

You squeeze your eyes closed as she fucks herself into you, trying your best to keep quiet. Each thrust was now hitting that special spot inside of you and drawing you closer to an orgasm. The feeling of her muscles flexing around you only intensified that feeling.

"Fuck I-I can't I'm-" Natasha stutters out as she groans into your neck, feeling your hot cunt tighten around her cock.

"Me too, Nat," you moan along with her, and your legs squeeze around her waist. "Let go, baby... wanna feel you fill me up." You watch her face twist in pleasure at your words, and the fact that it was enough to make her cum only added to your ego in the moment. Natasha grunts against your skin as she does just what you say, filling you up completely.

The sensation alone is enough to make you follow right behind her, the burn in your lower stomach blazing as you scream out her name.

"That's it, sweetheart, that's it... such a good girl for me," she coos as you fall apart in her arms, kissing your face as you breathe heavily. Your head falls against her shoulder, face panting in the crook of her neck as she holds you tightly, letting you come down off your high.

After a few moments she pulls out slowly, and you can feel the mixture of both your arousal dripping down your thighs. Natasha carries you to the sink, letting you rest on the hard surface while she pulls her pants back up and you fix the top of your dress.

"Hi," she says with a smile. You giggle, remembering she said the same thing afterward on the first night at her party.

"Hi," is all you reply, grabbing her shirt in your hand and pulling her closer to kiss you again.

****

"They have eight legs and eight eyes. How are they not scary?" Peter drunkenly speaks to Monica, who sits next to him with an amused look.

After your time in the bathroom with Natasha, the two of you had rejoined the group, and over the course of two hours, you had become increasingly wasted with the rest of your friends. As Yelena joined in on the topic of spiders, you feel Natasha rest her head back against your front.

She sat slouched back in one of the chairs that scattered near the table while you stood behind her, hands stroking her neck and massaging her shoulders. You can't help but smile down at her.

"You're so cute," you giggle and watch her brow raise. Your finger traces the dark lines on her neck.

"Anything but cute," Natasha groans, with a playful smirk on her face. "Why do you say that?"

"You're different than you look, you know? Why are you so nervous around me?" Your words slur, and she chuckles at your drunken state with a shrug, looking at the beer bottle she held in her hand.

"Must be the alcohol?" She says. You shake your head and poke her nose.

"You were drinking when I first met you, and you weren't like this," you point out and watch her swallow. You decide to move in front of her, settling yourself between her muscled thighs. As you stand in front of her, she sits up straighter, the two of you now practically the same height.

You take her hand in yours, playing with her fingers. She smiles a little as she looks at your intertwined hands.

"Maybe I was drinking that night to get enough courage to talk to you... and maybe I- maybe I'm drinking tonight to get enough courage to say I want more with you. More than... the hookups," she says and finally looks back up at you. Your heart races in your chest at her words, panic written on your face as you freeze in front of her.

That was exactly what you wanted. More of her, more of this beautiful person who was even more beautiful inside. To get to know what makes her really tick, what makes her happy, how her day was, how she likes her coffee. She wanted more, too, so why were you not speaking out loud?

"What?" Is all that comes out of your mouth.

Natashas face falls completely, misinterpreting your flustered state for a sign of rejection. She had hoped this wouldn't happen. Part of her wondered if this had just been a hook up, but the other part of her desperately hoped it wasn't.

Before the words could leave your parted lips, Kate calls over to you, taking the attention of both you and Natasha.

"Y/N, you ready to go? You can stay if you want, I'm gonna take Pete home, though," she nods to the direction of where he sat drunk rambling to Yelena.

"No, not -"

"Actually, Yelena and I have a lot to do tomorrow. We should head out too," Natasha interrupts you and stands, her hand moving to your lower back as you stare up at her with a pout.

"Are you sure?" You ask her, your hand reaching out to her side. She tenses under your grasp.

"Yeah, I'll text you later," She smiles at you, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes this time.

You nod anyways and smile back, leaning up to kiss her lips softly. "Thank you for tonight.. Hopefully, we can do it again soon?"

And while you were talking about hanging out with her, Natasha assumes you were talking about her fucking you.

"Yeah, soon," she lets out a breath and grabs her jacket, not taking a second look back at you as her and Yelena exit the bar.

***

A smile fills your face as your head hits the pillow, the soft comforter pulled over you as you lie on your warm bed and mull over tonights events. You wondered why Natasha had left in such a hurry before you could say anything, but you decided not to think too hard on it. She probably did have to go. It was early in the morning by the time you left, and besides, you would hear from her later.

Every morning, she texted you a quick and sweet text, telling you to have a good day.

Your chest swelled at the thought of it, how sweet it was that such a small, simple thing could brighten your entire day. What you assumed would happen tomorrow is that the two of you would talk about wanting more and how desperately you agreed with her about it.

But when the late morning came and the sunshine streamed through the windows, no text came with it.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x reader #gp!Natasha x reader #marvel #marvel one shot #part 2

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todomochi-uwu · 5 months

Text

Who (1/?) -J.Y & S.M

Pairing: Poly! Jeong Yunho x reader x Song Mingi

Genre: Angst, Smut

Warnings: This content is for a mature audience

Synopsis: You can't remember when was the last time you spent time with them, the last "I love you", the last time any of them kissed you.

Other chapters: Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee ☕

"Mingi, please. I think we should talk; I don't feel good and…" He was quick to cut you off.

"Y/n not right now, I'm tired."

You are always tired these days…

"Yunho, love do you want to go out and check out that new cafeteria? I heard they have…" He was quick to cut you off.

"Y/n not right now, I'm busy."

You are always busy these days...

Things haven't been the same in a while, always in a rush, always in a mood. You can't remember when was the last time you spent time with them, the last "I love you", the last time any of them kissed you. It was a type of routine you had grown accustomed to, and even if it was killing you inside, the idea of being without them was way worse than the pain of their neglect. Cold, endless nights laying in a bed that was way too big for you; tasteless dinner plates that would end up in the trashcan or at the back of the fridge rotting. A home that was crumbling from its foundations, one that you had so desperately tried to patch up and fix by yourself. But in the end, you just had to face the cruel reality, that they don't care. You were not a priority; your relationship was at the bottom of their list.

That's how you ended up at Chan's apartment, in the middle of the night, with so much as your phone in your pocket and your heart in your hand. He had been your main support the last weeks, anything you wanted, anything you needed, no questions asked. Whenever you woke up crying, whenever you broke down in the middle of the day, Chan was always there to comfort you. And so, you laid there, in his chest, the aftermath of a movie night in which you had only cried twice, an important milestone.

The constant buzzing in the pocket of your pyjamas was making it quite hard for you to continue sleeping. You knew exactly who dared bother you so late at night, it had been the same callers every single night for the past month.

"Don't answer it." Chan's groggy voice filled your ears. He was right. You declined the call and turned off your phone.

But said-call had already done its job, you couldn't stop thinking about the phone, well the people behind it. Your phone was full of texts and missed calls, eight people behind them, because their friends were loyal like that.

They are so sorry.

Please talk to them.

Yunho is drowning himself in work.

Mingi doesn't even talk to us.

Funny it is. A few weeks ago, it seemed they could live perfectly fine without you; they could go on with their day without even glancing your way. You gave them every single piece of your being just to get crumbles in return. But at the same time, your heart is weak, it can’t help but break every time you read one of their texts, wondering if they miss you that much, if they are sorry, if maybe, just maybe, you should go back.

“Y/n… you are overthinking again.” Bang Chan said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“I know, I just feel bad, Chan. Maybe I overreacted, maybe if I tried a bit harder to talk to them…” There you were again, trying to justify their actions. Chan gave you the same stern look he had been giving you for weeks, every time you blamed yourself.

He got up, not mentioning the subject anymore. Tired of going on about the same subject, “Hey, are you hungry? I can make you something or we can order in.”

It would be a lie to say you were not enjoying Chan’s presence. Having someone to talk to, someone to have a meal with, even someone who sits next to you without being on their phone or computer, you miss not feeling alone. And even though you were heartbroken, you felt warm on the inside.

-------------------------------------------------------

While you might be doing somewhat okay, the other parts of your relationship were not. The house was in complete silence, no matter the hour, no matter the day, no one would dare say a word, their mouths too busy sobbing every single time they remembered their sins, taking you for granted, neglecting you, breaking you.

Yunho would keep himself busy at the hospital, the idea of going back to a broken home simply made him nauseous, and even if the lack of food and the stress were killing him, he much rather endure that than face the harsh truth. Mingi wasn’t any better, endless nights spent in the office, acting as if he was reviewing cases, but the reality was that he just wanted a place to cry without anyone noticing him. Even the love between them was running cold. Fight after fight, they spat cruel words and thoughts trying to get all the hurt and anger out of their chests, blaming themselves, blaming each other. How did they not notice things were so wrong? How could they let things get so wrong?

“Oh, don’t act as if I'm the only one who wasn’t here, you slept at the office almost every day. I came home late, but you didn’t even come at all.” Yunho said, venom in his voice and a glass of whiskey in his hand.

Mingi scratched his forehead in frustration, he could feel the bile going up his throat. “Forgive me for trying to pay the bills, someone has to pay for the house, the student loans, the fucking food that’s on the table.”

“Fuck off, don’t you dare say I’m not bringing any money. Besides, you know that this is temporary while I finish my residency…”

And there the cycle began once again, a screaming match of arguments that never went anywhere, masking the true cause of their pain. Tears ran down their faces, their voices broke down more and more with each word they let out, Yunho's body trembled so much it hurt, while Mingi’s chest felt as if it was about to explode.

“I’m not okay, Yunho.” It was the first time any of them said it out loud, his voice was much raspier and heavier than the usual one.

“I'm not either, Mingi.” He whispered, fearing he would break down even more if he admitted it much louder.

“She left three weeks ago.”

Yunho could only nod.

“She’s not coming back, is she?”

“I don’t know, Mingi.”

#yunho angst #yunho smut #yunho x reader #mingi smut #mingi x reader #mingi angst #jeong yunho #song mingi #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez

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oikasugayama · 4 months

Text

YOU CATCH HIM M@STURBAT!NG pt. 3

MDNI, this is a NSFW series for adults

pt. 1 Fyodor, Poe, Chuuya | pt. 2 Fukuzawa, Kunikida, Dazai | pt. 3 Ranpo, Akutagawa, Ango | pt. 4 Sigma, Mori, Tetcho | pt. 5 (finale) Atsushi, Nikolai

Ranpo

you get a weird voicemail from Ranpo in which he was whimpering and saying "please, please, [y/n]," and then there was some fumbling with the phone and it cut off.

you're worried, of course you are, thinking maybe someone had taken him or hurt him and he needed your help, so you rush to his dorm and pound on the door, calling his name

you press your ear to the door and hear some muffled voices suddenly cut off, then hard footsteps approaching.

when ranpo throws the door open, his face is flushed, his hat and glasses are no where to be seen but his eyes are wide open, pupils dilated. you glance down and notice his clothes are disheveled, his shirt not tucked in, his fly undone, he's not wearing any shoes.

"WHAT" he snaps.

"i-- i thought you were-- you sent me a voicemail, it sounded like you were hurt or something??"

his face falls and simultaneously gets significantly redder, he steps back slightly and tries to think of what to say. that's when you spot his open laptop on the table beside a box of tissues and some lotion

"oh fuck," you say, looking from it to him. "holy shit, you were-- oh my god i'm so sorry!!"

he panics, trying to block your view "what? no-- no, i can explain, i was--"

"wait, was that voicemail in the middle of you masturbating?? dude, you said my name"

"seriously, it's-- no, i didn't, it was a misunderstanding!!"

"you know, you're a terrible liar, ranpo. brilliant mind, but a terrible liar."

Akutagawa

god he looks hot in this gif

Mori sends you to get Akutagawa for an impromptu meeting, which you have a sinking feeling is about your conduct with Akutagawa during the last mission. you nearly missed a target because you were, ahem... busy... in an alley together.

the first place you look for akutagawa, obviously, is in his own office, but he isn't there. in the hallway you run into Gin, so you ask if she knows where her brother is, and she says he was looking for you not long ago, so you decide to check your own office.

as soon as you crack the door open you hear the wet noise of his precum-damp hand pumping his cock. since you started hooking up, he's been finding you nearly every day to get his load off, it's no surprise that he's doing it here without you.

"akutagawa," you hiss, slinking into your office and locking the door behind you. "mori wants us to meet him now, probably about this exactly thing. i don't think we can keep doing this."

his hand stops and he glares at you, frowny mouth turning further to a scowl.

"mori may be the head of the organization, but he can't tell me who i can fuck. come here."

you take a second to decide, but when akutagawa stretches his free hand out to you, you rush to accept it. his expression brightens, no longer scowling but now smirking.

"good girl. mori can wait, can't he?"

"yes," you nod, sinking to your knees in front of him.

you meet with mori only after the taste of akutagawa's cum fills your mouth

Ango

You work into your lunch break, trying to finish a report that your boss needs asap. when you finally finish, you rush to ango's office to drop it off. you throw the door open without knocking, walk in several steps, and only then do you notice a few things:

he's not at lunch, he's still sitting at his desk.

his dick is out, in hand.

he's staring at you, in shock, with a slightly grumpy look on his face.

"sir!"

"close the fucking door," he demands, and you oblige quickly, trying to slip out as well, but he stops you. "ah, ah-- you stay. just close the door, and lock it while you're at it."

you do and slowly turn around to face him, and you can't help but to watch the way his fingers tease the head of his cock, brushing across the slit, feeling every contour of the tip.

"is that the finished report?"

"yes sir..."

"bring it to me."

you walk on shaky legs toward him, and his hand goes back to stroking himself as you get closer. you try to lay the report on his desk, but she shakes his head and reaches his free hand out. you give it to him, and he raises an eyebrow at you.

"why are you shaking?"

you try to stutter out a response, settling on "i don't know what to do."

"i find that hard to believe," he says slowly, turning toward the empty space beside his chair. "you always know what to do. that's why you're my best assistant."

the praise isn't anything new, he's always far nicer to you than anyone else he works with. you should have known the day he would hit on you or ask you out would come, but you never expected it to happen at work, and not like this.

"yes sir..." you say, slowly rounding his desk until you're standing in front of him. you drop to your knees and he sighs contentedly, leaning his head back against his chair and closing his eyes.

"good girl," he moans when your mouth touches him. "the best."

#bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs x reader #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa smut #akutagawa headcanons #ranpo x reader #ranpo smut #ranpo headcanons #ango x reader #ango smut #ango headcanons #bsd smut #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #rampo x reader #rampo headcanons #rampo smut

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kneelingshadowsalome · 9 months

Text

I Never Missed You 3/3 (Bodyguard!Ghost x F!Reader)

Word count: 6.4 k

Tags/warnings: 18+ only. Romance, eventual smut, fluff, light angst, banter, pining, flirting, minor injuries, major character death, HFN ending. Lady/Knight dynamic. Unequal pairing trope. Bodyguard AU. Reader is a rich bitch (how else could she afford a PPO?)

Summary: You hire a bodyguard to protect you and hunt down the one who's been sent to take your life. This man was your lawyer's first recommendation, and you never even looked through his file because you had better things to do. But it soon turns out that this man – this Simon Riley – is very talented... Talented in driving you crazy.

A/N: A three part fic based on this request. Angst and smut and fluff (the holy trinity!) in this last part.

Part 1 Part 2

Juice spills all over the table from the oranges you press, but you don't mind. There has been a soft smile on your face all morning.

Simon's still sleeping, and you want to surprise him with a special breakfast today: scrambled eggs, freshly pressed orange juice, berries, and…

"You took my shirt."

You flinch when you hear his familiar rumble not a few feet away. The staircase wailed like a widow last night, but obviously, this man has learned to avoid the creaky spots when he wants. A goddamn heavyweight ninja...

"I'm sorry." You lick your fingers from the juice and try to feign innocence. The sleeves of his black tee reach your elbows, but you're not sorry. Nor do you feel bad about seeing him in your kitchen without a shirt.

"It was not an accusation," he says, the corner of his mouth curving a little, the dark eyes that made love to you last night giving you an approving once-over.

You approach him with a glass full of sun, but it's you he grabs in his hold. Your fingers find the scars on his back as you two embrace, and you feel an odd churn in your stomach.

"What's this…?"

Your hand floats across the embossed, white ridges that crisscross his back. The collection forms an entire mountain range, and it's chilling because you've only brushed the space between his shoulder blades.

"A reminder. To trust no one."

"No one…?"

"No one."

You remain a coward and refrain from asking for more details. You doubt he would even share them.

"I made you breakfast," you lower your gaze to the colorful palette you've gathered on the plates. Is it some sort of an instinct to want to feed a man after they've fucked you so good?

"So I see," he says, ever more approvingly. Then you're lifted on the table, next to the plates, like you're the breakfast.

Soon you're only wearing his shirt and your tiny socks, which Simon decides to leave on, too busy with getting his face between your legs.

No one has done anything like that before… No one has chosen you over breakfast; an entire abundance of delicacies laid out.

He licks you until your legs are trembling on that tortured back. You're pure, you're untouched by evil, and he carries your naivety on his shoulders like it weighs nothing. He flattens his tongue on you, sucks your flesh, tortures you on that table and doesn't even mind his teeth all too much. The peak stubble he hasn't yet shaved stings and burns as he moves across your folds.

Saying that the coarse chin on your silk feels good would be an understatement. You come undone next to the breakfast, clad in golden light shining through the small window left uncovered.

You feel alive, and raw, and stellar. A shooting star, a comet high above the sky, although the space through which you ignite consists of golden rays of sunlight and the scent of orange juice.

He takes the shirt back after he's done. After you're done and try your best to return back to earth with shaking legs. The only thing you're wearing is your socks, but you feel completely naked before him, dopey and dumb before the day has even started. Simon only licks his lips, throws that shirt on, and grabs his plate.

He dares to comment that there's no hot water. You put the kettle on with a wobble, feeling hotness on your cheeks while he sits down to eat his second breakfast like it's the most natural thing in the world: to wreck you first thing in the morning.

…............................

Simon.

He fixes the door on your fridge. He helps you clean your garage and fucks you on the table. Oily, dusty, filthy table. You go to shower after, together. You're giggling; he's smiling. Fully, now.

You want to ask him, Is this free of charge too…? Not just his cock... But his smiles. His assistance and support. The looks he grants you when you come out of the shower, ready to be licked to ruin.

He calls you his Princess to tease you just right. To get you in a state where your eyes flash with half-rage, half-lust, just before he slips inside you. He knows exactly which strings to pull – and then calls you love just when you're about to give him a piece of your mind.

You end up on the table, on the counter, on the floor. He takes you while your jaw slowly falls open from his audacity and his cock, splitting you apart with slow love. The first time he takes you in a missionary, you squirt. It's like his cock was made for you. And he dares to tease you about that, too.

"Did ya just squirt all over my cock?"

You have tears in your eyes, shame on your cheeks, and he's wetter than a wet dog down there… then he makes you squirt again, high on the lewd, obscene praise you just gave him with your pussy.

Your cunt can't lie; he knows it by now. So it's futile to keep your lips sealed either.

Kiss me.

That's what you would've usually ordered. But after an exceptionally quiet and passionate and desperate fuck that leaves you both catching your breath, leaves him hovering only inches from your sweaty upper lip, you whisper…

"I want to kiss you."

You expect him to laugh or mock you, at least crack a stupid joke or two. But he doesn't. Instead, his eyes drop to your lips, and he swallows with a heavy roll, then closes the gap between you two. Covers your mouth with his, uses that strong jaw to open you for devouring.

The kiss lasts long enough for you to begin breathing through your nose. Your inner walls grip him, still buried deep inside, and the gusts of exhales passing through his nostrils hit your face with pure bliss. He’s a little breathless when he parts – withdraws just enough to look into your eyes.

“Will that do...?”

There is a drunken vigor in his eyes of crushed amber, but to your shock, you hear your own question laid out before you. The one you asked when you were going to that party.

Will I do…?

Your hands find his jaw and cup his face from both sides, drawing him back to your lips.

“Yes."

You will more than just do.

And then you say…

"I want more.”

He chuckles a soft scoff on your face.

"Greedy little thing."

Then he swallows you again. You kiss for a good few minutes while he grows half-hard inside you. It's the most romantic kiss you have shared with anyone, ever. He tells you how spoiled you are between the breaths you both catch, then spoils you some more with his mouth and tongue and cock.

You start to curl together in the evening. Just to watch a comedy. He massages your feet and smiles more every day. It's kind of domestic, how he wrinkles his nose at your fine white wine and asks what it is in that decanter you have in your study. When you say it's just some old bourbon, he goes and gets himself a glass like he's finally made himself at home.

It makes your heart grow thick from love. You almost forget why he's here in the first place.

When you ask him about the plan, he explains it to you in detail while kissing his way down your ribs and navel. He takes his sweet time while doing it, kissing the inside of your thigh, the hollow place below the knee, the tender skin under the knee. He kisses your calf and the ankle bone while holding your leg up for his lips with just one hand. Then he does the same to your other leg, but this time, kisses his way from ankle to thigh until he reaches…

You.

You've forgotten half the plan by then because you realize Simon hasn't looked at you like you're a steak or garbage in a long, long time.

He looks at you like you're a queen. You could say he worships you, but the thought alone makes your heart flutter with the anxiety of a fragile hummingbird.

Simon gets you your groceries and gets himself only a beer as a reward. You would happily offer him a case if you knew it would make him happy.

But you don't really know what would make him happy. You don't know anything about this man. You know he likes it when you're dolled up and angry. He likes you when you're sleepy, without makeup, wearing only his shirt. He likes to fuck you from behind and hold you close after. He likes to give you a wash, likes it when you wash him. He likes to watch the two tall trees outside the window sway when there's a strong wind.

"What makes you happy?" You ask one night after you've had him in your mouth.

"Blowjobs," he answers with a straight face, and you shove him in the shoulder. Nicely. Softly.

"No, for real."

"I dunno." He sighs and turns to stare at your ceiling with a bothered look. It's a tricky question, perhaps. Or weapons, not willingly gifted.

"Dogs," he shrugs after a while. "A day of silence. Good whiskey."

He doesn't grant you weapons. You get some rope, but not enough to choke him with it. He trusts no one.

"Why don't you like missionary…?" You continue roasting him while curling your fingers around the pale hair on his chest.

"I never said I didn't like it."

"Don't avoid the question, Mr. Doggystyle."

You prop yourself up on your elbow and place your palm flat over his heart. His stare slowly drifts from the ceiling back to you.

"Simon. Why do you always fuck me from behind?"

He raises his eyebrows like he's innocent of the crime he's being accused of. "Not always."

"Seriously, Simon."

The smug look returns; it gives his eyes a delightful little spark and tugs at the corner of that kissable mouth.

"I like your ass."

"But not my eyes?"

The smile dies, and he gulps down a short surprise, caught between truth and dare. But then his eyes settle like the calming sea under a full moon. Stern, but not remorseless. Bold, but not heartless. If anything, he's naked and bare.

"Darlin'. Love your eyes the most."

Your heart does a backflip. You've been a fool because what else has he done but search for your eyes first thing in the morning? Given you flashes of mischief over breakfast, made love to you with those eyes as you cum around his cock? That liquid fire and smoke hasn't left you since he stepped inside this house.

You breathe together; you can feel the slow rise and fall of his chest. There was a time when you thought this man was incapable of love, but now you fear he has never been allowed to love enough.

"We never talked, you know," you whisper. His heart swells underneath your palm like a sail.

"What'ya wanna talk about?"

"Us."

"So talk."

Walls are raised so quickly you feel them knocking the warmth out of your body. It's cold, it's Antarctic, the technique he uses to withdraw. Your room turns into a kingdom of ice from the cruel, emotionless indifference he emits.

You've been a fool, yes... And a child.

"You're making it hard," you say, noticing how the man starts to tense up under your fingertips. This is not the way, but you're not smart enough to stop your rampage.

"What happens when you've done your job?"

He doesn't sigh. He doesn't even think twice before giving his answer.

"I go back to the base."

You know now why he's called a ghost. You wonder if he was ever even here. Simon becomes a reminder for you, a reminder to trust no one.

"...Right." You pull your hand away slowly. As if it somehow helps with the pain to pretend you haven't just touched a hot stove and ended up getting your fingers burned.

He notices how you tense up far more than he. The arm around your waist goes tight, and you wonder if you've always been a bloodied steak to this brute, a stupid little princess with your wines, sighs, and wet eyes. He just doesn't want to let go of the last bites of his fine, delicious meat.

"I never thought you wanted a relationship," he says with a hollow voice, and the red rage nearly blinds your sight. You're too riled up to even yell at him.

"Love…" he tries for the last time.

"Get out of my bed."

…............................

His musk still clings to you as you descend the stairs the next morning.

He's sitting at the end of the steps with hunched shoulders and a tense back, exiled into the man he was the first day you met him. Your heart bleeds from the sight, wondering whether Simon has waited there the whole night after you kicked him out of your bedroom. But the boiling bile in your stomach forces you to lift your chin and draw your shoulders back as you walk down those steps with an audible clatter as your heels clack across the parquet.

He must've heard you before you make a racket fitting for an angered queen, but rises only after you've made it halfway through the staircase. You won't allow yourself to even look his way as he draws a deep breath.

"Love. Sweetheart."

But with that, you flash the man a stare full of despise as you walk past him.

"Don't."

"Let me–"

"Don't say a word," you take a sharp turn and raise a hand to shield you from whatever brutality he would like to stain you with. "You don't talk to me. You just do your job. Ok?"

His chest swells with another deep breath, but otherwise, this man is still as a statue again.

"Ma'am."

It takes you a while to notice he has regressed back to that term again, and you tilt your head. The movement is that of a warrior who swings her sword to a guard before a fight. He crosses his hands over his crotch as if to shield the most vulnerable parts from a low blow, but his eyes are full of hateful hurt as he gives you his most pretentious, mocking tone.

"Miss."

Your heart skips a beat – Simon becomes the thing you miss.

A hit and run.

You have to resist the urge to grimace at the pure venom in his voice - it doesn't matter what he calls you because that tone seeps straight through your skin like lye. It hurts; it burns to see him even more withdrawn to his shell than when you first met. He retreats far beyond the front line, he goes further than the rear, and it's a bitter defeat for both of you.

This man has rubbed your feet while you've laughed at a stupid joke in a sitcom. The same man has been inside you – night after night after night. It rips your heart to see a distant, perfectly blank expression on his face after you've seen him give you a plentitude of relaxed and wicked little smiles.

You share the breakfast in funeral-like silence. You wish you could pay him to stay home so that you can go through your day filled with terror and longing without Simon Riley following you around.

"I've been meaning to update you on new intel about the target," he breaks the silence, and your heart feels like it's being put through a wringer. Simon hasn't even touched his breakfast. "Turns out he received training in a sniper unit."

"So?"

"There's a high chance he might prefer to use long-range weapons."

He's professional, curt, clinical. Even more so than when you first shook hands with him. And all the while, those eyes burn you; they examine you like you're the most challenging puzzle he's ever tried to solve. He's cold as ice with his words and hot as hell with that stare. Those eyes seem to pierce your clothes, they even reach under your skin.

"Right," you say without giving him a single look back.

"We have to update our protocol asap."

Our…

We.

"The protocol…" you whisper and finally look up at him. His lips draw into a thin line as he sees how your walls crumble; they didn't last even half a day.

"Simon, I can't do this," you say, your voice breaking. The tears are only seconds away. They blur your sight, but as he rises from the table slowly and takes a hesitant step towards you, you turn your head back to your toast with a snap.

"I want to change bodyguards."

From the corner of your blurred vision, you see how he raises a hand. If you didn't know any better, you could say that he's at his weakest. But the hand falls straight back and gives a twitch by his side. You wonder why he even bothers to disguise the spasm so lousily as a stretch. It's as if he wants you to see that he's in tumult too.

"I'll stay until–"

"No. Get out."

"Miss. I'll just get my things," he says, and you nod briefly. No exchange of gazes is probably the best policy after informing him you no longer need his services. It's better to rip the band-aid off with one yank than try to pretend that this relationship was something more than sexual.

You know he came to your house with minimal belongings, a duffel bag full of spare clothes and a large case which you supposed was a container for different weapons. That is why you notice he takes a surprisingly long time to get those things and leave your house.

When he finally emerges from his room – no, not his room, but the guest room, you remind yourself – he places the luggage in the hallway and comes back to you, probably to say his polite farewells.

"You won't let me speak to you, so I wrote you a fuckin' letter."

You turn to solid stone as he places an envelope between your water glass and cup of coffee. You sit with your heart thumping in your chest as he picks up his things, walks to the door, walks out of it and out of your life.

It's one of those moments you wish you could freeze and rewind. Do everything differently so that it wouldn't have to come to this. Instead, you listen how the front door clunks shut.

Then you send your trembling fingers up from your lap and onto the pure white thing that holds his secrets. You pry it open and find yourself reading the lines, scribbled with surprisingly sophisticated handwriting, through a round of hot tears.

They cloud your vision, but they don't cloud his words.

You skim through the letter in a frenzied hurry once, then again with more control, and try to remember how to breathe.

He shares shrivels from his past, ugly, horrid things which make your breakfast nearly push up your throat. He tells you he stopped dating eleven years ago for a reason. He writes that he would rather be tortured again than make you suffer from his past and incapacities.

There are certain lines that enter your heart like a thief with the most delicate crowbar. Lines like I'm not good with words and You must know by now that I'm a broken man.

Lines like I'm not a fucking poet but I'll miss your warmth even under the desert sun.

Some lines make you want to tear the letter to pieces. Lines such as Don't throw your diamonds in the dust and I can't give you what you deserve.

He thinks you can't take his darkness, so he shelters you from it. He says he would come back to you if he could. You don't know what the hell he means by that.

If he could?

What the fuck prevents him?

You sit inside your empty, lonely house, confident of the fact that it is not you who prevents it. It was not you who just sent him out that door. Who commanded him to leave because you didn't need his services anymore.

The letter makes you cry, and then it makes you boil.

Such sweet words, and so many empty sentences. If only, if I wasn't, if I could.

You get the feeling that he's mocking you again. If only you weren't a princess and a spoiled brat, then perhaps he could reconsider this relationship.

You leave the letter there; you leave your coffee and your breakfast. You almost wish someone would shoot you and put you out of your misery as you call a taxi and go to the heart of the city.

You're completely numb as your fingertips brush silk and linen and all the newest designs. They curl around tiny bottles of bright nail polish and touch the perfumes made from the last free wildflowers of a burning world, but you feel nothing stir inside.

You're emptier than the echo that rings through the malls and corridors of stone; you feel poorer than all the beggars on the street. Shopping always makes you feel better. But now you want to burn all your money, throw your jewels out the window, torch all the fucking stores like some bloody anarchist. You leave every store without buying a thing and try to remember what it was to have lunch without drowning in tears that can't be cried in public.

"I can't give you what you deserve."

That's the line that scalds you most. You know what he meant when he wrote those words, seemingly humble. But your bleeding heart twists that sentence until his words are a testimony of pure rejection.

You have money, so you don't deserve love, is that it?

You want to find him and shake him. It's not about what you deserve or what he deserves. It's not about what anyone deserves. And if the bloody man thinks he doesn't deserve love only because he's made his home in suffering, then he's the last person who should be allowed to decide who deserves what.

You walk through the crowds and streets like a small whirlwind, on the verge of yelling your heart and loneliness out in the air until your vocal cords are raw. You're so riled your mind doesn't even register the gunshot.

The only thing you hear is a glass shattering next to you just before an entire boulder hits you.

His scent envelops you like a safe, warm blanket, even if that blanket weighs a ton and causes your jeans to grate and tear as you two hit the asphalt. Simon gives you bruises, scrapes and burns all across your left side as your body grinds through the dirt.

Another shot is fired; this time, a car's glass is shattered above you, and the body surrounding you tenses until you worry your bodyguard has been hit. The bodyguard you fired this morning, who's still doing his job, who never even left you…

People are screaming and running in different directions all around and above you, but time comes to a halt as Simon rises only an inch or two.

"Stay down," he gruffs in your ear. "Don't move. Don't you fucking move, ok?"

The whole world could've gone silent from the way you only hear his voice. His words. His distress. You remain still as a stone and look up at him – your lips part because he's looking at you with impatience that's not just pressing; it's demanding.

"Yes," you stutter, "yes, of course."

Someone's pissed because a third shot sends him right back over you, and only then do you notice you're clinging to him, to his jacket and his shirt, like he's a human shield. Then the human shield speaks again, and the words that come out only make you grip him tighter.

"He has to change the magazine soon. You stay right here, ok? I'm going in."

"No, don't," your fingers curl around his clothes and try to keep him on top of you. "Don't go. I'm afraid."

I'll get you a dog.

A day of silence.

I'll buy you some good whiskey. I promise…

"I'll be right back," he murmurs, more softly now. "I promise."

Then he rips himself off you. Your body misses his heat like the desert sand must miss the sun, and you realize you've ruined everything as you finally get to watch him in his element. He's agile and beautiful as he reaches for his gun, takes it out, and prepares it in a few seconds to fire death upon your faceless enemy. You've ruined everything because if Simon goes in, he might get killed – he's a human, not a shield, he's not even a weapon – and all the things you never said will haunt you for the rest of your life.

"Don't leave me," you want to reach for him, but don't dare disobey his orders. It should send you laughing: that you're finally doing precisely as he says. You finally trust your life with him, just before he leaves you, leaves you, leaves you.

"Simon–"

"Sweetheart. I never left you."

He looks straight into your eyes. You gulp the tears now.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper, and someone is screaming; everythings a buzz, cars whir by as you tell him all the things you meant to say weeks ago. "I never wanted you to go. I always liked you. I– I think I love–"

"Shh. Don't you do this to me now."

The words are so soft you have to struggle to hear what he's saying under his breath. It's like he's talking to himself, and you realize you're an asshole, saying things like that to him when he's trying to concentrate on his mission and his job. But you just can't help yourself sometimes. No one in your life compares to him. No one has caused such a ruckus, such turmoil, such devastation and such love.

"Do what?" you whimper there, motionless on the ground as he gives you a last, painful look before his stare fixes on the piece of glass still unshattered, the dim, transient mirror of a store window he uses to locate movement in one of the buildings.

Then he takes a peek over the car, and you hold your breath – he's the bait now, and ducks his head immediately as two more shots are fired. You don't even have the strength to scream; your whole body simply shudders from the echoing sound of pure fear – how can he play tag with death like that?

And then he leaves.

He rounds the car and darts for the building and the sniper; he disappears from your vision so quickly you wonder if these past weeks have been but a dream.

A hit and run.

"Do what…" you repeat on the ground and curl into yourself even though he said you shouldn't move. You figure it's not that big of a crime to go into a fetal position when you don't know if he's ever coming back to scold you for breaking the rules.

You want to close your ears from the sounds that follow – you fear you'll jinx something if you listen too closely to what happens in that building. You try to concentrate on your breaths, slowly bringing you back to your body. You haven't even noticed that there's blood running down your arm.

It's funny how you only notice the pain after seeing the flowing crimson that makes small rivers around your fingers. You don't want to look at your burning shoulder because the shock is already here.

The searing pulse gets worse as you hear another shot, then another shot. Those sounds pound inside your shoulder and send more fire down your arm. Minutes or hours pass and you think how strange it is that everything's completely still, how bizarre it is that there are no sirens, no cars, no screaming. They've finally closed off the roads.

You only start to cry when you see that he's alive.

You try to rise from the ground to meet him – a bleeding princess, waking from her beauty sleep and realizing everything's just been a bad dream, greeting her knight in a black pair of fitted tactical pants and a pistol on his waist. Diamonds and darkness…

He rushes to you in what seems like desperation. You find it oddly beautiful that he's not only relieved to see his client is still alive and well, he's also relieved to know you're still there. That his princess has waited for him.

He falls on his knees and prevents you from rising. You're quickly wrapped in his arms, feeling so happy and safe that you don't even bother to tell him you're injured. It's just a scratch anyway. Even if your leg was blown off, you wouldn't complain about being picked up in his lap like this.

"Shh. I got you. I got you."

He's cradling you like a child while tears stream down your face, but there's no audible sounds of crying. You weep a whole river of tears and your nose is clogged, forcing you to breathe through your mouth, but there's no wailing, no screaming, no bawling. The first words that roll off your tongue are a child's moody complaint.

"You left me," you mope as he caresses your head.

"Only for a little while."

"You came back."

"I said I would."

More tears flow, and this time you sniffle and sob. He rocks you gently back and forth as you cry in his embrace. Simon would make a good father.

"Is he…?" You whisper, then look up at him. He just nods and gives you a quick scan, drawing a sharp breath when he notices the wound on your arm.

You're placed back on the ground as he inspects your shoulder and tells you the bullet managed to scrape some skin but has mostly just ruined your jacket. You're almost sorry that the wound is not as severe as it feels. You thought the burning sensation meant shattered bones and scarred flesh, but the scratch is no deeper than if you had accidentally cut yourself with a kitchen knife.

"No, I don't want… No hospital," you beg as he offers to take you to ER. You're not spending the rest of the day in a frigid treatment room where tired medical personnel only clean the wound and put a big plaster on it.

"Just take me home," you plead like you're his daughter who doesn't want to go to school today. "Please?"

"Sure. Whatever ya want."

He makes a few phone calls, arranges things with the local police or something. You don't want to know anything about it. You don't want to know who got shot in that building and how.

It's not a taxi that drives you back this time. You don't know where he got a car and a driver, but the vehicle is big and black, and your head is in Simon's lap when you lie in the backseat. There's a panel between the driver's seat and the rear, so you don't even know who's driving, but you're only grateful for the privacy after the crazy morning followed by a murder attempt. You look up at Simon, who looks back at you for the first time while you're in a car together.

"Why did you become a soldier?" You ask, not knowing why you're whispering. He's holding your hand – a simple, wholesome thing to do, but his grip on you is solid and warm and feels equally as intimate as the times this man has been inside you.

"I wanted to help people."

"By killing them?"

"By saving those I can."

He keeps a hand on your cheek too. Simon has spoken softly ever since you were fired at, has been humane and caring and tender, and you realize… This man is naked before you; he's stripped bare from all pretenses.

And he's not darkness. He's not a skeleton or a dead man or even a soldier.

He's a beacon in the night.

"You did a good job," you squeeze his hand softly.

The last glass-like veil in his eyes shatters, but far more softly than those windows shot at with a rifle.

"I live to serve, Ma'am...–Miss."

"Don’t… Simon, please don’t call me a–"

He descends. He doesn't need that hand to lift your chin up to meet him in a kiss. It's not a hungry devouring this time, but a soft promise, a lover's seal. You feel the rest of the shock leave your body in his embrace. There's no more coldness, only a fragile burning.

"You never look me in the eyes," you whisper as a tear escapes from the corner of your eye. It's a silly thing to say when he looks at you with all the love in the world.

"Yes I do," he gives you a soft brush of a thumb across your cheek. His lips are right there, an inch away from yours. "How could you have missed that?"

He's right, as always. The dark love almost swallows the brown of his eyes as he looks at you, shining light on you as he has shined for days, for weeks now. How could you have missed that, indeed? You raise a hand to cup his cheek, not caring about the pain, not even mourning that your blood stains his chin. He doesn't seem to mind at all, so why would you?

When you arrive at your house, he drives away the loneliness, sorrow, everything a rich girl can fear by carrying you in his arms, stepping over the threshold with you like you two are married now.

He peels your jacket off with affection and tenderness, tends to your wound and wipes away the blood that has caked dry all over your arm. The gash has bled a lot for such a small wound, and you purse your lips from how accurately it reflects your feelings for him.

He ties the wound, checks at least two times he's not tying it too tight. His care breaks your heart, because you don't know whether he will leave you after this. There's nothing that keeps him here anymore – there's no way you can keep Simon Riley to yourself. So you abandon him first for the second time, ascend the stairs to your lonely domain while he cleans up the small mess in the bathroom.

It's a small miracle that he follows you. He opens the door to your room without knocking – not because he's entitled to your privacy, but because there are no more barriers between you two. You're gathered in a stout embrace for the second time this afternoon, and you wrap your arms around him to hold him closer.

"You'll leave me soon," you speak to the wall before you, to the man behind you, holding you so gently against his chest. "I'll miss you."

"Love," he murmurs behind you, you feel the words against your back as a warm rumble. "I'll come back. If you want me, I'll come back to you."

"You will…?"

"I promise."

You have no more tears to cry, so you settle for examining the stab inside your heart, the wound that will bleed you dry if no one ties it tightly enough.

"I don't believe you."

"It's not a matter of whether you believe me."

He turns you around and lets you bathe in his warmth again, the same golden light that came through the window when he placed his mouth on you in the kitchen. It's almost frightening to know that there's nothing that can keep him from you. Nothing, except you. The only thing that has stood between you was only and ever pride.

"Simon," you breathe, a soft attempt to introduce him to mercy. "It's not a matter of what we deserve."

He blinks a few times, the chest against your side collapses a little. It's a hard reset. The corner of his mouth tugs, a beautiful betrayal of his surrender, a sign of being hit by a boulder – your boulder, finally bringing the rest of those walls down.

"You think so...?"

"Yes. I think so."

He brushes his knuckles across your sternum – a familiar motion that always manages to lift your heart. You used to think it was foreplay when it was in truth, an attempt to touch the organ said to be the house of love.

You think about the times his harsh breaths have hit you just before he cums, the urgent praise he's peppered you with merely seconds before you've cried from pleasure. Can't get enough of you pet, you’re fucking perfect, 'm gonna make you cum, sing for me, just like that...

You always thought it was a catalogue of shallow lust when it was an offering of naked devotion.

He was as vulnerable as you when you drifted through space together, when you drowned in his stunning midnight sea. He was catching fire and burning too, again and again until you were both satisfied and sweaty. He always held you close after, panted desperate love on your skin, planted kisses on your collarbones and neck before resting his head on your heart. Settling there, over your pulse, like he had finally found his way home…

The hand glides between your breasts and molds itself over your waist. It fits there like a second skin. You're relatively sure his hands were made for holding you.

"You asked what makes me happy," he says, completely naked and bare. The heavy love surrounds you with warm safety; your breath flows freely as you await his confession, the last secret revealed. "I think you know, love."

You know. It has finally dawned on you. What you didn't know was that tears of hope could feel like fire too. You've never been more eager to burn.

"Now keep those pretty eyes on me."

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fanfic #mw2 fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost x female reader #bodyguard au #bodyguard!Ghost

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kopilot-pop · 5 months

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[Tired] pt.2

- Le Sserafim x 6thMember!Reader

Summary: After a harsh criticism from one of your teachers, you started to fall into a bad habit again. You started staying overnight at the company, your knees are always bruised, and you probably shouldn’t have 3 cans of Redbull everyday… Thankfully, your bandmates have easily recognized your behaviors and decided to put it to an end.

Warnings: overworking, self-hate, depression, suicidal intentions (very minor), fainting, hospital, needles,

a/n: sorry for the long wait. This is a bit shorter than I expected, but I hope you guys still enjoy.

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The horrendous amount of caffeine started to take a toll on you.

During one of the last practices for your comeback, Chaewon stared at you worriedly.

But you were too busy staring at your shaky hands to notice.

After chugging another can of Redbull, you finished the practice and finally turned on your phone. Several missed calls and notifications from your group’s chatroom covered your phone.

You didn’t have the energy to care.

You fell asleep on the couch in the practice room.

You have a comeback tomorrow after all.

-----

Furious is an understatement.

Chaewon is absolutely mad.

The 6 of you gathered at the studio for Music Bank on the day of the comeback. While getting ready with makeup and outfits, you could tell the girls wanted to talk to you but were too busy to.

When you all finally got up to the stage, the jittery feeling became more intense. As the second verse started your stomach started to churn, your throat closed up - you almost missed your lines-

and once again you couldn’t stop staring at your shaky hands with bloodshot eyes.

Until you froze.

Your eyes met Zuha’s. And you watched in slow motion as she ran towards you, barely catching your body before it hit the ground, and the spotlight in front of your eyes shut down.

-----

“…..ays-… y..… med…-”

You finally woke up with a pounding inside your head.

The moment you could blur out the bright light above your head, you could see Sakura’s face and feel the cool cloth on yours.

She was carefully wiping away the sweat on your head and quickly noticed your eyes open.

“Y/n! How are you feeling?”

At the same time, you could hear a loud crash on the other side of the room.

“Y/n unnie woke up?!”

“Y/N ARE YOU OKAY-”

“G..guys… calm down..”

The three younger girls ran up to you, seeming to have been lounging on the couch together.

Eunchae, with teary eyes, pulled you into a tight hug.

“Hey! She’s not stable yet!! Don’t push her around!!”

Your leader walked through the doors to pull down the three puppies from you.

“Thanks..”

After a few moments of awkward silence, Chaewon finally started.

“You passed out on stage Y/n.”

“Chaewon, don’t be too harsh.” Sakura tried her best to keep the situation calm.

“I know unnie- Y/n. You fainted due to malnutrition. When’s the last time you ate anything?”

“…I’m not sure..”

“Of course you’re not sure. The only thing you’ve been putting inside your body was energy drinks-”

“Unnie..”

“No- We were all thinking so I’m just gonna say it- We thought you were gonna die Y/n.”

She said it so matter-of-factly that you could almost laugh. Almost.

“Why would y-”

“You were barely home, working like a slave every fucking day, starving, and depending on pain meds- so yeah, OF COURSE WE THOUGHT THE WORSE!!”

You finally gained the courage to look up at her teary eyes.

“Do you understand the amount of fear I felt when I saw you drop to the ground yesterday?! How terrified we felt when you didn’t wake up when Yunjin screamed your name?!!”

“I-..”

“Kazuha carried you to the hospital because she was too scared that something might happen to you if she let go!! Can you even imagine being that scared?!”

You looked down at your lap, fiddling with the needle(IV drip) inside your hand. Sakura gently held your hand to stop you.

“That’s enough Chaewon.” She said.

She’s never stern, but this time she was. Sakura gave you this look, something just like the one your mother always gave you.

Worried, angry, but somehow warm.

“We were scared Y/n.. More than the fainting, I was scared of losing you just like last time…”

Last time? Oh yeah. You almost killed yourself during debut.

“We care about you. You know that. All 5 of us love and cherish you, sometimes even more than anybody else in the world. And watching you slowly fade away like that just…”

She started to choke up. It was rare to see her like that, so you instinctively shot out to pull her into a hug.

Holding onto you, as you might just fade away, Sakura softly sobbed into your shoulder.

When you felt another weight on your back, you turned around to see the youngest also snuggling into you. Probably the person you mostly didn't want to catch you in such a depressing state.

"I...I'm sorr-"

Yunjin, with the same teary face all the others choked out;

"It's not your fault."

She slid next to the edge of the bed, gently holding onto Sakura's hand right on top of yours.

"I wanted to be better. Good enough to stand by you guys. I just wanted to-" You felt the tears finally fall free from your eyes as Chaewon with the same frown (albeit a bit softer) held your face.

Gentle. God, they were all so gentle with you.

"You are. You are good enough. You are good."

Watching you sob out, Kazuha finally joined into the pile, right next to Yunjin as she dries your tears with her old sweater sleeves.

You let out another ugly cry as you feel the 5 girls' warmth trap you. You forgot that you were good enough. You forgot how loved you were.

But just like always, they were there to remind you once again.

"You're loved Y/n. By us, always."

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angelshadowsinger · 10 months

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Too Late (Priorities 2)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

Azriel hurries back from his mission to find you’re gone. (sequel to Priorities)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

hiii guys! i originally intended on leaving Priorities an open-ended angst, but! y'all demanded part 2, so here it is~ just so you know, this is not happy. if i make a part 3, that might be! also, sorry this is a bit late. this last week was crazy busy and next week probably will be too. TW: very brief mention of vomit

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

The wind howled as Azriel pelted through the sky, his raw cheeks stinging from its relentless barrage. Scarred fists were clenched so hard the imprint of his fingernails marred his palms, jaw set as he grit his teeth and powered through exhaustion.

You were right.

The mission that Rhys had sent him on was nothing but a menial task. Any of the lower members of Azriel’s investigation force could have done the job the same as him. But ultimately, it was only himself he had to blame; even if his brother had given him the task, he had failed to pass it on to his espionage underlings. Delegation was perhaps one of his weakest skills— even after all these years he felt he had to earn his worth within his family.

Thankfully, he was already on his way home the evening after leaving, the ordeal taking not even a full day. And he was flying full-speed in order to get back to you as fast as he could.

His stomach had been in knots ever since he winnowed from his room at the Town House, where he had left you alone with your tears. The sound of your sobs echoed in his head, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he recalled your pleas for him to stay.

He should’ve listened— This mission was the last nail in the coffin he had been slowly building every time his brother had summoned him away from you, calling him to duty with barely any time to rest between requests, barely any time to hold you in his arms.

Gods, he missed you. Every time he had to leave you was like pulling teeth, his body and his shadows always begging to stay by your side, savor your kiss and your touch and your voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear. But his mind always won out. He couldn’t count how many times he had forced himself to withdraw from your ambrosial embrace, how many times he averted his sight from your melancholy gaze. If he allowed himself to linger on it, shame would begin to swirl in his guts and tighten his throat.

The border of Velaris came into view and the shadowsinger dared to smile, stopping on a tall plain to gather a few wildflowers together. A meager peace offering, but a gift to show his remorse nonetheless. He had never returned to you empty-handed after a fight, and would not begin now.

Azriel plucked a few more stems to fluff up the bouquet, silently preparing himself for the emotional turmoil that was bound to ensue. The things he felt for you terrified him— and maybe that was partly why he would always answer Rhys’ call. Because if he stayed, and told his brother no… that would be his recognition that you had become his top priority. Perhaps it was time to make that leap, he thought, as he winnowed right into the foyer of the townhouse.

The home was eerily silent as he materialized in the dark, no candles or faelight illuminating the first floor. The sound of the clock ticking caught his attention, hazel eyes glancing at the last hour of dusk. The Illyrian frowned, straining to hear you, hoping to pick up the clank of dishes in the sink, the crisp turn of a page from a book, or even the quiet breaths of your sleeping form from the couch you usually dozed off on when you waited up for his return. But he detected not a single sound.

Anxiety exploded in his chest, his shadows immediately surging out in every direction without needing instruction. His feet were moving before he could think, swiftly carrying him to the last place he had seen you— where he left you, falling apart and alone.

He cursed as he hurtled up the stairs, three steps with each stride. It was times like these that he especially wished you were his mate, so that he could reach out to you and calm the ceaseless concerns that regarded your well-being every second he was apart from you.

Rounding the corner, Azriel burst into his bedroom, eyes immediately zeroing in on the empty, made bed. Within a second, faelight lit the room. His shadows dwindled in the corners of the room, uncharacteristically mild as they slowly swirled at the floor, not reporting their findings to their master. Azriel bared his teeth at none of them in particular, but the reprimanding he was ready to bark out died in his throat as he noticed a small whirl of black lingering on the nightstand at his side of the bed.

He came closer to inspect it, the little mass of shadow concentrated there, some spilling down the drawers at the side and joining its gloomy brethren on the ground. With a wave of his hand it dissipated. The bouquet in his grip fell to the tile with a soft whoosh.

Your ring.

It felt as if he had been shot, the jolt of lethal pain akin to when he had taken an arrow to the chest in Hybern. His lips parted as he examined the delicate silver band, the large, tear-shaped sapphire that once gleamed so brightly now dull against the wood.

‘Stop wearing this the day you stop loving me,’ he had said, his arms around her as she giggled into his chest. She was giddy at his gift, kept admiring how it looked on her finger, her hand fanning out so the moonlight would catch the gem and shine.

‘That would be never, shadowsinger,’ she had replied easily.

He had never felt so light, so careless and content; she loved him too. She loved him, and he kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Perhaps she was.

Azriel fell to the ground, his knees buckling and smashing onto the hard tile. He barely felt it, every fiber of him in shock as he stared at the piece of jewelry that lay on the tabletop, now at eye-level.

He barely heard his shadows inform him that the ring was the only piece of you in the home left, that your clothes and books and even that ugly throw pillow he hated was gone from the sofa. His wings slowly dipped until they pooled into a black mass on the floor behind him, dread oozing through him as he read the words that laid on the note beneath your ring.

I’ll never stop, even if you have.

The shadowsinger sat and stared at the ring, at those awful words. He read them again, and then he reread them, again and again.

He had told you he loved you before he left… But you didn’t believe him. And why should you, when all he gave you as of late were empty promises? Pretty words could only satisfy temporarily, and the latest string of seemingly-endless missions was longer than ever before.

Doubts began to fill his mind with malicious whispers, his gaze still stuck on the ring and that hideous note. They murmured the thoughts that often found him at the odd hours of the night, when he would lay with your perfect body in his arms and sleep would welcome you but evade him– that you deserved more than he could ever give you, that he was unworthy of your pure and whole love.

The sound of droplets splattering on the ground summoned Azriel from his descent into devastation, and his eyes slowly fell to examine the tiny pools his tears had formed beside his knees. He hadn’t realized he had started crying. He gingerly raised a scarred hand to his cheek, studying the newfound wetness on his fingertips. It had been so long since he last cried, the evidence of his emotion was foreign.

Shaky fingers plucked the ring from the nightstand, coming to hold the tiny finery in his lap. It looked so bizarre against the crude black of the leathers binding his thighs, so bright and pure that he couldn’t help but think of you. Couldn’t help but think of when he had seen you personified the same, and he himself as a mass of darkness that would bleed into your light and poison you somehow. He thought of how every time he felt that way, you had worked so hard to convince him that he deserved you and that he deserved love, that you were so happy to be the one to give it to him. More tears escaped as he now realized his failure in telling you the same. You had always been there for him, and when you had begged him for support in your time of need, he had failed you. He had run away.

And now you had erased all traces of yourself from the house Rhys had gifted him.

The town house had become Azriel’s official residence since his brothers had coupled off, and it had once been the fortress of his solitude. That was before he had found you, and before you had gradually moved your things in… before it had become a home. And now that it was void of you once more, it had suddenly reverted back to that empty, bleak place he had learned to hate.

A lump formed in his throat at the notion that perhaps this place had slowly transformed into your own prison of isolation these last few months. That maybe you had felt this sinking, desperate feeling when you were here, in the place that was meant to be your nest of love, your safe haven. That you had told him you were drowning here, and he had simply told you to wait for him when you were already exhausted, gasping out for him with your last breath. That when he had disregarded your desperate plea, he had effectively swung the sword and severed any faith you had left in him.

You were gone, and it was all his fault.

He was too late.

Nausea rolled deep in his gut and he winnowed in front of the toilet just in time before the contents of his stomach surfaced. Only once his body had heaved up everything it could did he begin to sob, knuckles pale as they clenched onto porcelain, his broad form slumped on the cool tile. Shadows swarmed the bath, mirroring their master’s distress.

Eventually the shadowsinger sat back against the nearest wall, trying to calm his ragged breath. The shadows produced the note that had been left behind, and the sight of your parting words to him nearly triggered another fit, bile rising at the back of his throat. But he paused as he read the words again, scrutinized them even though they were few and short. He sat up and analyzed the note, hazel revisiting and eating up every curve of ink.

You still loved him.

Even after he had ignored you, neglected you, failed you… you still loved him. Was there a chance that you… still wanted him? If he could repent and swear to do better, would you take him back? If he could just talk to you, if he could get one more chance from you… he could love you. He already did love you, but if he had another shot to be with you, then he could really give you his all, he could really allow himself to love you like he had always dreamt of. He could stand up to his brother, he could tell you how his world was meaningless without you, he could cherish you– prioritize you, he could…

Azriel frowned, a panicked hand combing through his dark hair.

Could he do all of that?

He had never been so outright with his emotions, it felt weak to bear his heart to such a degree… But what was the alternative? A life without you? A life filled with wondering what could have been had he not been a coward that was too scared to tell you how he really felt, too scared to even try?

If there was a time to be brave, it was now.

He was absolutely terrified, but his resolve was steel as he took a minute to fix himself, another to grab the flowers from the ground and ensure he had your ring. And then he was off in search of you, shadows enveloping him and melting into the night.

･゜゜・．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡･゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #acotar x you #acotar x reader #azriel angst #my work #angelshadowsinger

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orchidyoonkook · 7 days

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To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 6 | M

Title: Eastern Arrivals and Unwanted Doubt

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: Nel's here for the week and you couldn't be more excited!! Jungkook's another story though...

Warnings: M, fluff, smut, swearing, drinking, pining, angsstt, slight boundary pushing (not sexual), unwanted/ unneeded overprotectiveness, jealousy, lying, [reader eats bacon and eggs but it's not specified what kind or where it's from, just bacon and eggs, so whether that means veggie, vegan or normal is up to you], intentional pissing off of Nel, a little spat between major characters, sex as a plot device.

Mature warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 6,945

Release Date: April 20, 2:00PM

A/N 1: 6 months later and we have chapter 6! slow updates, but they will be written and they will be posted. I have no plans to abandon this, I just, very unfortunately, have a bit of an outernet life now. So not a lot of free time to be creative which I hate. But it's here!!

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five

Mature Warnings: Consensual sex x 2, both reader with Nel and JK with Ady -> sorry not sorry cuz it's plot sex. We got us some: kissing, protected sex (as we should), missionary, fingering, oral (f. rec), tiny bit of groping (consenual), multiple orgasms, loud sex, like annoyingly, sex as a terrible coping mechanism (imo), fantasizing.

Bouncing lightly from foot to foot, you’re buzzing after finally receiving the text you were waiting on a few minutes ago.

Nelly <3 [10:10pm]: Landed. See you soon 😘

He’s almost here. He’s almost here!

Just a few more seconds until—

The gates slide open. A flood of people in a mixture of sweats and business casual wear with luggage of all sizes and neck pillows walk through. You hold up the sign above your head with both hands, a smile that could outshine the sun plastered on your face, and search.

Where is he? Where is he, where is he, where is he, you think as you scour the bodies filing out of the automatic doors. You can’t see him. He’s none of the nameless faces that pass you by as they find their family, friends or rides.

Is this even the right group of people? What if his luggage got lost and he won’t be out with this group. What if he got taken aside for some reason, and now he’s being held in some dusty room being asked a bunch of stupid questions he doesn’t know how to answer? What if he’s fig—

But then there’s a gap in the crowd, and the boy you’ve spent the last half decade of your life with comes into perfect, crystalline view. His lips pulled taught, teeth beautifully bared as he sets his sights on your sign high in the air, then down to you.

And you're running.

You’re running and dodging and swerving until you’re jumping into Nels arms as he abandons his suitcase in favour of keeping you both up right. He buries his face into your neck, holding you so tightly you think he’ll never let go. And that’s just fine with you as you hold on just as tight, taking in a big breath of him too.

He smells like airplane and coastal breeze and most importantly, home.

Nel smells like home.

A muffled, “Ohhhhhhh, I missed you,” greets your ears, and you melt into him even more if that's even possible.

“I missed you too,” you say, pulling back and kissing him. You don’t really care if there’s an audience or not right now. Not when Nel’s here, and he’s in your arms, and he’s yours for a whole 9 days and life is as it should be once again.

He releases his hold slightly, but your arms don’t leave his shoulders. The sign still clutched, now crushed and crinkled, in one hand.

“Car?” he asks, a kiss to your nose.

“This way,” you lead, releasing your hold.

Luckily, his suitcase is small, so he forgoes rolling it, instead gripping the handle at the top and carrying it in one hand. Your own reaching for his other and not letting go. He’s going to have to peel you off him if he wants space right now.

Nel’s wearing his usual fall attire; a dark green school sweater that has ‘ECAD’ written over the chest in a large, academic looking mustard yellow font, regular old blue jeans, and dark brown lace up boots. His short, dirty blond hair's covered by a hat you’d gotten him as a highschool graduation present, and his ocean blue eyes remain as gorgeous as they were the day you met.

Passing through doors to the outside and back to lot J, you hop in the car as he puts his bag in the trunk.

“How have you been? What’s new? What’s not? Tell me everything,” he asks as he climbs in and sits beside you, hand finding yours again.

Never gone for too long. You relish in the comfort and happiness that alone brings you.

He’s finally here. You finally have him back.

“I’m great. Yuri’s still Yuri, classes are only a little more challenging this year, but I’m still at the top of them,” Nel slips in a ‘not surprised’ and you smile brighter as you continue. “They’re already telling us to start brainstorming ideas for our thesis show next year,” you have no idea what you’re going to do, but you’re working on it. “Campus is the same, dorms are the same, the cafe’s the same. Though, they have the egg tarts I like in more, which is awesome for my taste buds and terrible for my bank account.”

Vivian stayed true to her word, and now they had the tarts in every week.

“I can only imagine,” Nel jokes.

“Uhhmm, what else…” a thought pops up, and you guess you can tell him. It doesn’t reveal anything the whole world doesn’t already know. “The prince is dating Adaline Dupree.”

His eyebrows raise, remembering, “Oh yeah, that’s right, the prince goes to your school now.”

“Yep.”

“Have you met him?”

Is he seriously not completely shocked at the prince dating Adaline? You only bitched about her to him all the time.

“Uhhh… yep, once or twice, I guess.”

You hate it. You hate lying, especially to Nel. You hate it so much, but it’s for the greater good. It’s to keep the peace. But that doesn’t stop the burning feeling in your chest nor the roil in your belly.

“The day he arrived Yuri dragged me down to see him speak. She made us sit front row because Yuri,” Nel nods, knowing exactly what you mean. “He had everyone assemble to hear why he was at school and tell us not to treat him like a prince. He wants to be able to study without his title getting in the way.”

You hit your blinker, making a one handed left turn.

“Makes sense. Is he nice at least?” Nel doesn’t sound at all suspicious, and why should he? You’ve never given him reason to not believe you at your word before. Never lied to him before.

Fuck you hate this so much. It was so much easier when he was 5000 miles away. But now that he's right beside you? This week may end up being more difficult than you thought.

“He was very princely. Tried to kiss my hand like he did like every other girl there, but I made it a handshake instead. Figured if he wants to be treated like everyone else, I would liste—Oh!” you laugh before you can even get the words out.

“What?” he asks, intrigued but confused.

You can barely speak coherently. “You should have seen Yuri’s face when I called him Jungkook and not Prince or Your Highness...her eyes nearly fell out of her head,” tears are starting to form from laughing so hard. “It was great.”

“He didn’t mind?” Nel asks and you shake your head. Yuri’s face that day will forever be seared into your brain for whenever you need a pick-me-up.

“No, he was grateful actually. I was the first person that had addressed him like that, the way he’d asked to be.” Stopping at a red light, you're finally regaining yourself.

“Well,” he squeezes your hand, “you always were good at first impressions,” and looks at you so softly you can’t help but smile into the kiss you give him.

He remembers that school art fair just as fondly as you do.

Nel pulls away first with a thought. “Is Yuri with us this time?”

Yuri hadn’t been able to go home last year, her parents too busy on a work trip, so she stayed back and kicked it with you two, but also gave you your space when needed.

Lots and lots of space.

“Nope! Parents welcomed her with open arms this afternoon, I’m sure. They’re all on some tropical island down south. She’s bringing me an ocean bottle though, so I’m excited for that. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to add a new one.”

Everytime you travelled somewhere with a beach you got a glass bottle and filled it with half sand, half water, added in some shells or rocks and labelled it. Instead of towels, keychains, or magnets, you did ocean bottles. They lined a shelf in your room back home.

You probably have at least fifteen of them by now. Your mum likes to travel and make sure you experience the world around you, not just your little corner of it.

“Oh that’s great babe! I know how much you love those.”

“Yeah, it is.” You lean your head on his shoulder, basking in his presence for as long as the light remains red.

He’s here. He’s yours.

You only have to do this for a couple more years and then you’ll be together all the time. God you can’t wait. But you are nothing if not disciplined.

And it’s going to be so worth it in the end.

The rest of the ride to your dorm goes by quickly.

Some more red lights, some more kisses. You point out the same things you always do on the way back, and Nel acts like it’s the first time he’s seen them, just like he always does.

His hand never leaves yours over the center console.

Soon enough, you find yourselves flopping down on your bed. Bags, jackets and shoes, scattered. Nel pulls you into him, his head on your pillow, yours lying on his chest. True peace settling in for the first time in months.

“I can't wait until we’re done school and I have more than four and a half months with you a year,” he sighs. “It’s not enough. I want more. Need more.”

“Me too. But good things come to those who wait.”

“Yeah…I’m just really sick of waiting.”

“Me too,” you repeat in a yawn.

Nel’s breathing slowly evens out as you lie there, content to be in your arms again. And you look up to see his eyes closed, warm exhales brushing over your face from his nose.

You can’t blame him for being so tired. He’d had an early morning exam before flying out, even brought his suitcase to it so he could leave the second he was done. Then, the flight alone was ten hours, plus travel times to and from the airports was about an hour each way, and the wait time before boarding was another two.

Shit, he’s probably been awake for around eighteen hours straight at this point because he’s also the type that can’t sleep on planes no matter what he tries.

Oh, Nel...Of course he’s exhausted.

Giving him a squeeze before getting up, you take off his socks and jeans carefully, then tuck him into bed as much as you can. You’d try the sweater, but it involved too many working parts and you didn’t want to wake him, so you figure it’s best to have the window open tonight instead.

Grabbing your phone, you tiptoe to the bathroom and do your night time routine. It’s not an overly complicated one, just brushing your teeth, washing your face and a simple 3 step skincare routine of cleanser, toner and moisturizer. Short and sweet, but it does the job.

Halfway through brushing, you do your friend due diligence and send Yuri a ‘back safe’ text, just like she’d sent you her own ‘here safe’ when she’d landed.

You spit and rinse, moving onto washing your face and applying cleanser.

Teeth clean and face moisturized, you sneak into your room again. Nel's still out cold.

You sneak out of habit—your mom wakes at the sound of a pin dropping. But absolutely nothing could wake Nel now outside of his mother’s voice and his morning alarm. It’s a talent of his you’ve always been jealous of.

Removing today's clothes and tossing them in your overflowing hamper—reminder to self: do laundry—you slide on your pjs and climb into bed beside him, plugging in your phone and setting it down.

A thought pops into your head and you pick it back up, shooting a quick text before you can think twice.

You [11:26pm]: home safe

It pings not seconds later.

PJK [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso PJK [11:27pm]: glad ur home safe

Your heart beats a little louder at the nickname, and you chalk it up to the excitement still in you at having Nel here and being tired.

But you sleep better that night than you have in a long time.

A short, repetitive, rhythmic vibration.

Picasso [11:26pm]: home safe

Jungkook is still standing in the same corner by the wall, Adaline somewhere in the crowd in front of him dancing with her friends. She asked him to join her, but he declined. He doesn’t need to see himself more than half drunk and dancing on the cover of tomorrow’s news cycles. Not to mention his security team would shut the party down the second a camera flashed.

His guards are carefully stationed throughout the house, all dressed down in casual wear, a few with empty cups in their hands. One is watching some sort of beer pong like game in the corner, another is mingling with some guys over in the kitchen. Three he can’t immediately see. And he knows his head guard is outside in a black car ready to get him out at a moment's notice.

Nobody can tell they aren’t here for the party, not unless they’re sober enough to notice watchful eyes continually making their way over the crowd as the night goes on.

Your text woke him from the stillness he’s adapted from standing so long, trying hard not to draw attention to himself.

You were home safe. Home safe from the airport. Home safe from picking up Cornelius.

Your boyfriend.

Cornelius, your boyfriend.

He doesn’t acknowledge his teeth grinding.

You were home from picking up your beau but even then, you’d texted him to let him know you were back on campus safely. To let him know you were okay.

It’s the first thing that makes him smile all night.

So he sends back, a bit to quickly:

Me [11:26pm]: Thanks Picasso Me [11:26pm]: glad ur home safe

Because it means something to him that you deem him close enough to send a ‘home safe’ text too.

That you want him to know you’re back.

Want him to know you’re safe.

Whether you know it or not, your safety means a lot to Jungkook, so that little two word text makes his heart lurch.

He needs to leave.

He needs to get out of this fucking house and back to his dorm. He came, he drank, he observed, he fulfilled his boyfriend duty.

That’s enough for him.

He shoots Adaline a text that says he isn’t feeling well and gets out as fast as he possibly can, dodging bodies left and right and doing his best to hide his face.

Once he’s out, security team in tow, the cooling midnight air does him some good.

“Someone make sure she gets back to her dorm safe,” he says in their general direction, brain too muddled to be polite in this exact moment, but it’s nothing they haven’t seen before.

This is going to be such a long week.

He can’t wait till it’s over. Till he doesn’t have to share anymore.

He was never very good at it anyway.

The smell of bacon wakes you.

And toast, and…

Eggs?

You think, at least. Since when do you have bacon? Or eggs? Toast is a given, it’s part of your life’s blood.

Opening your eyes, you blindly reach for your phone, successfully unplugging it and bringing it to your face.

The screen is too bright but you suffer through it, squinting.

9:27am.

9:27?

You slept for ten hours!?

You can’t remember the last time you slept more than 6 consecutively, aside from recovery nights, and even then it was fitful.

Nel comes in with two plates, his full with a very Eastern breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. Yours with two pieces of toast, lots of bacon, a bit of eggs and some fruit. Where did he—?

He smiles at your confusion, “You have a cafeteria that sells breakfast food, you know.”

You know that.

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because the look on your face says otherwise.”

You flop back down and pull the pillow over your head, mumbling incoherent nonsense. You rarely used the dorm cafeteria for breakfast. Much preferring the greenhouse cafe or simple toast and juice that you can make in your dorm.

He chuckles. “Two breakfasts for me then, okay, if you insist,” Nel moves to leave but you screech, uncovering your face.

“Noo! I want it. Please, sweet nutrition,” he hands the plate over when you sit up, arms out stretched, and you dig in.

After a piece of bacon, you ask, “How long have you been up?”

Nel’s sitting with his legs crossed at the end of your bed, munching away, “Long enough to get changed, grab my wallet, get food and come back.”

The bacon is really good. You’ve never been so glad he knew you so well as you grab another piece from the dwindling pile.

“You slept well then, too? That’s good, I’m glad. You needed the rest.”

“Having you around always makes it easier to fall asleep,” he nudges your knee with his elbow.

Even after five years he can still make you blush.

“I know the feeling.”

You two fall into step, starting your weeks in advance prepared plans, the rest of your day passing quickly.

Too quickly.

And so does the next day, and the next, and the next.

All of your activities are going great. The zoo, picnics, study dates, restaurant dates, historical, artistic and architectural museum tours. Even a swim at the school’s indoor pool, and there’s plenty more to come.

Things slip back into being easy, just as they always have been with Nel, ever since that first day back in tenth grade.

He knows you like the back of his hand and predicts your moves before you make them, just like you do for him.

You know his favourite foods, and where he prefers to park when driving—always avoiding open curbs—you know his dream travel destinations, and who his favourite musicians are. You know his favourite pencils to design with and his favourite pencils to shade with, that he always put on his right sock first, then right shoe, then left sock and left shoe. You know that his drink order is an iced coffee with two cream and two sugar, that he prefers loose shirts over fitted ones, and that his favourite colour is orange.

It’s a pretty orange too, not just any orange. You wonder if it’s anything like Jungkook's–

Wait.

You search your memory for the information, going through favourite foods, drinks, music—all discussed previously, because you know their answers. But colour?

Nothing.

How have you never asked what Jungkook’s favourite colour is?

Isn’t that usually one of the first things people ask when they’re trying to get to know one another? Funny. Guess you’ll have to inquire the next time you see him.

Anyways, just like you know everything there is to know about Nel, he knows everything about you too, including your routines.

Which is why at twelve noon every day, he starts getting ready to go to the greenhouse for your afternoon study session.

Including today.

Your week’s already half over and you hate it. Time always moves far to fast when all you want it to do is slow the fuck down.

You only have five days left. Five days.

You’re lucky the greenhouse cafe is open during break, some places on campus are required to stay open for the students who can’t make it home, but greenhouse chooses to.

As you and Nel turn the corner you see a familiar figure sitting in his old spot at the back of the patio. The same hat, mask and hoodie, now paired with a leather jacket on top due to the weather starting to cool down.

You can tell Jungkook wasn’t expecting to see you by the way he stiffens before those all too familiar brown eyes of his meet your own. Which is fair, your schedule shifts a bit when you’re on break, he isn’t used to you being here at twelve on Wednesdays.

But as quickly as he sees you, his gaze is back on his laptop, like he never saw you in the first place.

Like you asked him to do.

And a sharp pain stings inside your chest.

When you and Nel get to your table, he sits in the seat opposite to where you always do, leaving where Jungkook usually sits beside you, empty.

A part of you is grateful for that, though you can’t figure out why and table that self discussion for a later date.

Setting down your things, you ask Nel if he wants coffee. He answers yes, like always, and after a quick visit with Viv, you're pulling out your chair and setting down your cups. Your back faces Jungkook. It’s a small mercy you can’t see him. Maybe you can forget he’s here and actually focus on your work.

But it’s also exactly because of your position, that you can’t see as Jungkook subtly watches you over the rim of his laptop while you and Nel talk quietly and study.

Nel can though.

It feels weird to ignore him. To pretend you don’t know one another when for the better part of the last seven weeks all you’ve done is talk, hang out, study or a mixture of the three, every day.

When having him sit behind you and not beside you feels so wrong and so foreign.

But this is your own doing, you caused this. So you need to suck it up and get used to it.

This is exactly what you asked for all those weeks ago. The perfect solution to your problem.

No one can know.

Not Nel.

Not anyone.

But fuck, if it didn’t absolutely suck in practice.

Setting some of your books out around you and on the table Jungkook usually uses, you dig into your business homework. Having a major and a minor are great for job prospects, on paper, and in practice after you’ve completed them.

But getting them? It takes years of hard work and dedication with no distractions.

None.

You spend almost every free moment you have doing homework or practicing, trying to get ahead, trying to stay on top.

…Trying to beat Adaline.

But you just use that as fuel for your drive to be better. To be the best.

Competition is healthy. Especially when you’re winning against the rich brat who’s used to getting what she wants.

Not that you're petty.

Ehh…You are. But only a little bit. At least you can admit it.

Nel gets to work as well, the sunlight from his spot is great for drawing. He’s working on a rough version of his thesis project that’s due at the end of the year. He has to have multiple completed renderings as well as a scale model, and he’s been brainstorming since last year about what he wants to do.

Currently, he’s drawing up an airport, trying to design so that it’s not confusing and complicated for first time users.

However, his occasional swearing and muttering to himself makes you think he’s having a tough time with it.

You try not to laugh, but a small giggle slips out.

“What,” Nel asks, a little distracted.

“Nothing.”

“No really, what’s up? I could use a laugh right now,” he insists, eyes on you at first. But then something behind you steals their attention every few seconds.

Someone.

“You just…you still make funny sounds when you're frustrated with a drawing. It’s endearing.” You reach to place your hand on his knee, trying to gain back his full attention.

Ignore him, Nel. Please ignore him.

“Yeah...” he exhales. “I guess airports are out,” his hand covers yours quickly and you hear a faint chair screech from behind you. Nel doesn’t miss it as he says. “But I do have a much bigger appreciation and understanding for all those who came before me,” pupils now unmoving from their target behind you.

Fine.

You’ll acknowledge it.

“Is everything okay? You keep looking at something? Is there an animal or…” You know what he’s looking at, but go so far as to turn anyway, playing up the ‘confused girlfriend’ role. But Nel squeezes your hand, stopping you.

He leans in, placing a fake mask of serene on and lowers his voice. “That guy keeps looking at us, moreso you. And he looks pissed off.”

Fuck, think of something.

Anything. Anythi—Oh!

You lean in too, so close your noses almost touch. “He’s probably just upset we’re talking. The greenhouse cafe is usually a quiet place to work,” good enough, you think. That’s believable, right?. “It’ll be fine. Let’s just ignore him and get back to work.”

You place a quick kiss on his lips but Nel isn’t letting up on his unnecessary vigilance. But then again, he doesn’t know that Jungkook is the opposite of a threat to you. So you reassure him, in your own way.

“Babe, seriously. If you’re going to be all protective or whatever, don’t. I come here everyday when you're not here and I’m still alive and unharmed. Go get a sandwich or a refill to get your head off of it and say hi to Viv. She’s still here, and I’m betting she remembers you. You’re kinda hard to forget.”

You can tell Nel’s about to reject the idea when you insist. “I’ll be fine, Nel. Promise. Three years and not a scratch on me.”

He sighs through his nose, but relents.

Placing his drawing pad on the table, he gets up, but not before placing another kiss to your forehead and mumbling, “Scream ‘cumquat’ if you’re in danger and I’ll come running, okay?”

You laugh outright at that. “Will do.”

You watch him as he goes, and the second he’s inside, you’re racing for your phone, typing at an astounding speed.

You [1:45pm]: Didn’t your royal upbringing teach you not to stare so blatantly!??? Nel caught you

You hear a quiet ping from behind you followed by a small exhale that sounds more like a disguised chuckle.

PJK [1:45pm]: Yes.

You [1:45pm]: So you intentionally got caught?

PJK [1:45pm]: Maybe

You [1:45pm]: Shithead

PJK [1:46pm]: Rude

You [1:46pm]: You deserve it

PJK [1:46pm]: I know. I’m just making sure he’s treating you right. PJK [1:47pm]: and trying to see if he acts differently when he knows he’s being watched. He’s very protective you know

Jungkook saw the second Nel noticed he was watching you.

His posture changed from easy going to on alert. His hand went so quickly to yours on his knee and his public displays of affection increased significantly.

It was pathetic, really. It went above a normal amount of protection. Nel was claiming his ‘property’, making sure Jungkook knew not to touch.

And the nasty look Nel gave him as he entered the cafe—gratefully still unrecognizable in his disguise—was another silent way to say back off, stay away, and don’t try anything or you’ll regret it.

It was a red flag in Jungkook's mind. A small one, but it’s still there because his efforts are completely unneeded. After five years together, Nel should know that you can handle yourself.

Hell, Jungkook knows that and it’s only been two months.

You [1:47pm]: yes I know he is, and I already told you he treats me well because he always. Does. Not just in public or under watchful eyes You [1:48pm]: and since when does my boyfriend of half a decade need your ~princely~ seal approval?

He ignores the small jab. You only ever brought up his title when you were mocking or upset with him. And he knows that in this case it's the latter.

PJK [1:48pm]: Since now PJK [1:49pm]: And it’s not that I don’t trust you at your word, but I usually like to decide for myself

That has you reeling.

Where does he get the audacity to think he has any say in or about your relationship? Your very solidly built, five years strong, healthy, happy relationship?

Because he’s the Prince? You’re pretty sure you established on day one that you didn’t and still don’t give a fuck about his birthright.

If he thinks he gets an opinion on any of this he’s got another thing coming the second he asks you anything about Adaline again.

You’re in the middle of typing out a paragraph explaining all of this when another text comes in.

PJK [1:49pm]: Because I’ve seen far too many women in love who are blind to certain things PJK [1:50pm]: And far too many hurt in the end because of it.

You pause. Fingers frozen mid swipe.

Blind to what?

How many women did he know that were in love but missing something about their partner? Surely there couldn't be that many. Right?

But this was Jungkook you were talking to, he’s lived numerous lifetimes already. That fancy birthright of his you don’t care about having given him far too many life experiences to have at his age. And they’re only going to increase from here.

So instead of hitting send and cursing him out quite spectacularly, you stop and think for a moment.

What did he see that they didn’t?

That you might… not?

You’re a decent judge of character if your record tracks. And it does.

So your curiosity gets the better of you as you delete your rage paragraph and settle for a simple two word question instead.

You [1:50pm]: Like what?

You can see that he’s typing out a response but the bell on the cafe door rings and you put your phone down. It buzzes with his response a few seconds after.

You’ll check it later.

Nel takes his seat again, and you notice he has his sandwich, but also that he’s moved his chair and starts sketching from the new position giving him a direct eye line with Jungkook.

You internally scoff at that.

Nel has always been protective. But he was raised that way and you don’t mind too much. You don’t expect him to change his core values for you, just like he never expects you to change yours for him, even when a couple of his are just the slightest bit overbearing.

But that’s part of a relationship. Give and take and compromise. No one person is going to be perfect for another. It’s healthy to have differences.

That being said, Nel doesn’t change positions for the rest of the hour. Even as Jungkook packs up and leaves, Nel eyeballs him until he’s out of sight.

That night while Nel is brushing his teeth and you're lying in bed, you check the text from Jungkook.

PJK [1:51pm]: Like if they’re getting treated the way they should be or if they’re settling for the best they think they can get or for the first guy that showed interest. The one who hasn’t grown up even though time has passed. The one who’s holding her back by not setting her free

You stare at your phone. At the text. At his words.

And dismiss it.

You aren’t one of those women.

You know yourself.

You know what you deserve and how you should be treated. You didn’t settle, you just happened to find your love at a young age. That’s something special and rare and should be protected. And Nel has most certainly grown up as time passed.

Jungkook is being ridiculous for absolutely no reason. Surely he’ll have seen that today. Seen how Nel loves you, treats you how you deserve to be treated, holds you up. Supports you.

You’re confident he’ll be eating his words soon enough.

Finished brushing, Nel comes back to the bedroom and snuggles up behind you and you put down your phone.

He cuddles you for a minute before placing a kiss at your neck. Then another. And another before he’s mouthing up your neck, and sliding a hand up your thigh and to your waist. It pauses on your stomach with teasing caresses, before dipping lower and lower, beneath the fabric of your sleep shorts, and under the elastic of your underwear.

A small moan sounds in your throat at the touch. His fingers meeting your folds and the sensitive bundle of nerves at their apex.

You wanted this.

Need it.

He’s grown, you think; as a finger slips in you and you gasp at the stretch, legs opening wider for him. A second finger plunges in and you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every thrust. Just like you can feel a bulge forming behind you.

You know what you deserve; as he uses them to scissor you open, making sure you’re ready. You roll over, now on your back with Nel over you as he pulls your shorts and underwear down to get better access, your own hands removing your shirt.

You’re not settling; as Nel moves down, tongue making a couple swipes at your entrance and you hiss in pleasure before he’s reaching over, grabbing a condom from the nightstand drawer and sliding it on, length hard and dripping at the sight of you bared before him.

Nel wasn’t the first guy who’d shown interest, just the first you’d said yes to; and he slides in. Both of you moaning at the snug fit.

“Fuck...” he says and you nod, agreeing, before pulling him down into a deep kiss.

He eases into a slow, steady rhythm that has you breathy and his abs tensing.

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need to erase these past two months without him, and take enough to last for the next two. It’s never enough, but you try.

“Faster baby,” you beg, “Please…faster.”

Nel isn’t holding you back. Jungkook doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.

Nel picks up the pace and you start moaning, louder like you know he likes. Likes to hear he’s doing a good job. He’s grabbing your breast and sucking in a nipple, tongue swirling and you're bringing your hips to meet his with every thrust.

It feels good. It always feels good with Nel.

He was your first everything. First kiss, first intimate touch, first love.

Only love.

And he makes you feel good with that love. That touch. His kiss.

He makes you feel safe, inside and out.

Jungkook can go eat grass. He doesn’t know your relationship. Doesn’t know the first thing about it.

“There, right there!” you whine as Nel hits your sweet spot once and you arch. He tries again but misses, continuing faster, his peak coming quickly.

Jungkook can never understand what you two have. What you two have built in these five years. The understanding and security that comes with it.

He’s being an unrightfully opinionated ass on something he knows nothing about and—

Fuck! Why are you thinking about Jungkook? You’re having sex with Nel. You shouldn’t be thinking about anything or anyone other than that.

Than him.

So why can’t you get what Jungkook said out of your fucking head?

“Ahhh… oh fuck. I’m cumming.” Nel’s hips stutter, his face contorting in pleasure as he releases, filling the condom.

You kiss him passionately to rid yourself of your princely plagued thoughts, the ones filling you with unwanted and unnecessary doubt. You want them gone, gone, gone. Nothing but Nel in their place.

And you slip an, “I love you,” in between kisses for good measure.

Jungkook could never understand.

Nel kisses you back just as hard, dramatically slowing his thrusts, drawing out his high for as long as possible.

“I love you too.”

Jungkook doesn’t know anything.

Nel groans into your lips when it becomes too much and pulls out.

Removing and tying off the condom, Nel goes to the washroom to throw it out and starts the shower he knows you’ll be joining him for when you're done.

A routine you’re all too familiar with.

One you created.

He knows you need a few minutes to get yourself off.

You’ve never been able to cum from sex with a partner. No matter how hard you tried. No matter what you did.

Most would think Nel wasn’t a good lover or wasn’t trying enough, but it was through years of constantly trying anything and everything that you learned you just…couldn’t.

No amount of fingering or oral or penetration from your partner could make you orgasm.

So Nel knows to wait for you in the shower as you finish yourself off, your own fingers making quick work of it, because you always could for some reason.

It isn’t your ideal situation, and it isn’t anyone’s fault. But it works. You both get the intimacy you crave and you accepted a long time ago that you were just one of the unlucky few.

Screams fill Jungkook’s ears as a hand finds his hair and nails rake against his scalp.

Adaline isn’t a quiet receiver.

“Ohmygod!” She shouts for the twentieth time. “Yes! There…so goo-oohhhh,” the last syllable turning into a loud moan.

He’s holding her downwith a forearm by her pelvis, mouth full as he brings out her third orgasm of the night, juices flooding his tongue.

He’s working out earlier frustrations and proving a point to himself in this fucked up version of self therapy.

He shouldn’t be.

But he does.

Has to.

Seeing you today with Cornelius spurred feelings within him that he didn’t know he had. Sure, there were bits and pieces of something stirring he refused to name, but today?

They were in a whole different ballpark. Different than anything else he’s ever felt before, brewing inside him, bubbling up to the surface even though he’s been trying his best to pop them and shove them down.

Anger?

Feelings he doesn’t want to have.

Jealousy?

Does have.

Wanting you to look at him the way you look at Nel?

Can’t have.

Not for…

He admits he provoked Nel because he could. Dick move, but it was because Jungkook knew just by looking at him that giving you any form of attention would piss him off. He seemed the type.

Overly possessive, overprotective.

Overbearingly so.

Suffocatingly so.

Because Nel knows how lucky he is. That you chose him. That you still choose him.

He knows he has to keep others away.

Knows he isn’t good enough for you, holds you back. But keeps you anyway.

The selfish prick.

So Jungkook eyed you up and down, leisurely, and for as long as he wanted. Purely out of the need to prove to himself he was right about his little assessment of your boyfriend. At least that’s what he told himself.

Was it childish and unnecessary?

Yes.

But he was right. And that felt good.

He could see in your posture and your hushed words you didn’t want Nel’s protection, didn’t need it, and that Nel ignored that wish of yours. Did what he wanted to instead of respecting your ability to make decisions for yourself. Bulldozed your opinions.

It pissed Jungkook off.

He’d left a little while after sending you that text to read, but you never did. At least not since the last time he checked. And so he’d made plans with Adaline the second he was out of your earshot. Calling her up and setting a time for what’s currently taking up his primary focus.

Because even though it was Adaline underneath him, for the very first time, that’s not who he imagined it was.

Not who he just dragged a fourth orgasm out of with his fingers because he could.

Because he would. He would be so much better. Give so much more. If only…

Fuck.

Jungkook stands and drags his cock over Adaline’s entrance, whacking it against her clit a couple times before running the tip through her folds and pushing in. He hisses at the feeling. At who he was sinking into in his head, splayed out in front of him. Skin glistening with sweat mixed with arousal. Mouth open, slack jawed in pleasure.

Adaline moans loudly and it dissolves his visual.

His tattooed hand moves to hold her hands above her head, the other silences her mouth.

“Quiet now,” he whispers, low and deep. A bead of sweat dripping off his brow, hair sticking to his neck and temple.

He intends it to be sexy for her, but in reality, he’s just sick of hearing her. It’s ruining his mental image. Not that she’ll ever know that though.

To Adaline, this session is all about her and making her feel good.

But constant screams and loud, pornographic moans aren’t appealing to him in the slightest. They're taking him out of the mood. Making him soft.

Once or twice when it’s genuine? Sure. But the constant assault she loves to give his eardrums? Not even a little bit.

He sets a fast, rough pace, and Adaline’s eyes roll back in pleasure, screams finally subsiding in white hot bliss, replaced by bitten lips and smothered whimpers.

He is going to prove this point to himself over and over again. All night if he has to.

And he has to.

To get whatever it is he’s feeling for you out of his system.

To keep his sanity.

To forget.

And while it’s Adaline’s name is on his lips when he cums.

It’s not the name he repeats in his head like a prayer.

Chapter Seven: TBA

A/N 2: Thanks for waiting for this chapter. I'll try my best to have 7 out as soon as I can get it. I promise.

A/N 3: As always, Thank you for reading, loves. Xoxo - Yoon <3

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dendro-bunny · 2 months

Text

Deepspace

Rafayel x Reader

Genre: hurt to comfort, angst to fluff, suggestive on all boys

Synopsis: Being around you is his favorite part of the day… Yet he called you clingy and annoying… so you gave him space…

Warning: break downs, feeling less than, depression, misunderstanding, anxiety, delusion (the part where he’s hoping you’re in a certain part of the house)

(A/n): I like hurting feelings :) but I also like making them aaalllllll better <3 I WRITE SO MUCH LORD HELP ME! THE OTHER BOYS WILL BE IN DIFFERENT PARTS! Also may continue each part with a spicy part 😋

Part 1.5 , part 2, part 2.5, part 3, part 3.5

============================================================================

Rafayel (frustration blinded him)

You sit at the bottom of the ladder your artist is sitting at the top of. His legs dangle ever so slightly in front of you. You watch his fingers do meticulous strokes on the canvas.

Your fingers fiddle with the cuffs of his pants. You have a few markers you’re making doodles with on his pants leg. You occasionally comment on the colors he puts on the canvas. Saying how pretty the contrast is, or how much it brings the piece together. Only encouraging words.

You’ve probably been sitting like this for 4 hours, you start to feel hungry realizing you missed lunch and so has Rafayel. So you get up and walk to the kitchen to make some food.

“Hey bae you hungry?” You raise your voice slightly from the kitchen.

“Not hungry.” He replies hurriedly.

You peak your head out the door way from the kitchen. “You sure?” You get a ‘mhm’ back and sigh. You make food for the both of you and you put his in the air fryer.

You walk over with your food in hand and rest your head on his thigh. He moves his thigh so you aren’t resting on him anymore. You blink at him in confusion.

You see his face is contorted in concentration and every few seconds he lets out huffs of frustration. You wait a moment eating more of your food before trying to sit at the bottom of the ladder again. You feel his foot nudge you off.

“Babe… I wanna sit next to you…” you frown deeply at his huff.

“Look I just need one moment of space, can you not be so clingy for 5 seconds.” You hear him mutter under breath. The part that shocks you is what he mutters after.

“Honestly kind of annoying. Don’t you have other things to do than bothering me?” He mutters this, not even sparing you a glance. If he had he would see the hurt on your face. The betrayal in your eyes. The quiver of your bottom lip you have to bite to keep yourself grounded.

“Oh… sorry… your food is in the air fryer.” You back away. You give him the space he wants. So much space you leave the apartment. After gathering your things. You know he’ll be working on that picture for the next few days. Best to give him his space right?

Maybe you were being annoying and clingy. You mean you’ve been so close to him for the last couple of days. Barely separating long enough to use the bathroom.

Maybe you were a bit annoying constantly distracting him from paintings. He’s always said you were the only one that he would let distract him during those times. But maybe he was just hiding his annoyance.

The silence in the room is deafening. Your chimes of support and jokes leaves rafayel in a choking silence. He looks to where you last were. You’re not there. Immediately his inspiration flees. The once languid hand holding his brush falls limp against his leg. Shoulders slumping and a pout on his face.

“Babe?!” He waits for a response. 1. 2. 3. Beats go past nothing. He gets down from his ladder and heads to the kitchen. Maybe you’re too busy stuffing your face to answer him. As he enters the kitchen he smells the food you’d prepared for him.

As he opens the air fryer he sees the old dish your grandmother taught you. The most amazing lobster rolls he ever tasted. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was till he look at the plate. So much love and effort was put into the dish. He felt bad for destroying it in a few bites. He really has to find you now he has to thank you for making such delicious food for him.

You really are the best girlfriend he could ever ask for. The best girlfriends get tired easy from being so great! You must be in his bed! The only reasonable place left for you to be! When he walks into his room however it’s unsettlingly tidy and untouched. His face turns to a pout. He storms around his studio looking for you. Turing the place upside down. When he concludes you left, get checks his camera system for when you left.

2 hours ago. He sees you walk into entrance and crouch down. Your shoulders shake as you weep. For 3 minutes you stay like that. When you stand you don’t bother to wipe your eyes. You just hop on your motorcycle and ride off.

His heart sinks. What happened, he genuinely doesn’t remember. He spends a few minutes thinking and comes up with nothing. Why can’t he remember what happened. He shoots you a text… he gets no immediate response. So he texts again, and again, and again.

Rafayel [14:30] :

-Can’t believe you just left me all alone! 😭

Rafayel [14:35]:

-it’s fine I forgive you!

-Especially since you made me such delicious lobster!

-You know you should tell me when you leave though!

Rafayel [14:50]:

-you know I’m not upset…

-why aren’t you answering?!

-Are you ok?!

-Babe?!

You [21:30]:

-sorry was on an urgent mission.

-The wander cut off the service in the area.

-You’re welcome for the lobster.

-Heading to bed now good night.

Rafayel looks at his phone is disbelief. The entire time he was waiting he’s just been staring at the sea. Waiting to see if a message in a bottle would wash up on shore. And hopefully the message was from you. Dramatic he knows. But he feels lost. Without you next to him he can’t concentrate on anything else but you.

The message is as dry as it gets. No emojis, no hearts, no feelings. And you’re going to bed… without him?! He responds with ‘oh ok… good night my muse… sleep well I love you.’ With a few hearts and kissy faces… nothing back.

You stare at the last message. Your emotions are mixed, you feel guilty but upset, sad but on edge. Was he manipulating you? How does he not know how you feel? How could be blatantly ignore what he said?!

You know it’s petty and immature. Maybe it’s best you guys have some space. You make a promise to yourself to keep your interactions short for the next week.

And you do rather well… for 3 days. His texts get more and more frequent and he seems worried in them all. Yet you don’t respond, well only a few times. Declining dates and things of the sort. The fourth day you get no messages or call. It isn’t until Thomas calls you this fourth day pleading you to go talk to Rafayel and get him to hurry on his painting. Since it’s the centerpiece at the hunter association’s gala. You think that when you get there it’ll be the same song and dance as always. Listening to him whine about much there is something missing and having to go on a wild goose chase.

When you open the door. You find the place in a worst state than normal. Yeah sure it’s messy sometimes but this time there are sketches and concepts and creations just sparred around. When you pick one up, it’s of you a sketch of your smile. Then one of you laughing, then one of you 3 days ago outside his door.

“RAFAYEL?!” You begin to panic. Unsure of how his headspace may be.

You hear a crash, then shatter of glass. You turn and see Rafayel hunched over a table with the glass on the floor adjacent to him. His knuckles white from gripping the table. The shaking of his shoulders, you’re unsure of from rage or sadness, is prevalent. It isn’t till he lets out a choked sob do you know why he is shaking.

“Rafayel… babe?” Your voice barely above a whisper. You watch his head snap up at your voice. His face puffy and red. Eyes sore from tears. When he speaks his voice is hoarse. “(Y/N)? You’re here?” He larches forward slowly afraid you’ll disappear. “Wh- why?” His voice breaks as more tears begin to fall.

“Thomas… called me. Are you ok? What happened. I was worried when you stopped texting but I assumed you were busy!” You begin to lead him to the couch clearing off papers and sketch books. (All full of you btw)

“Thomas… you answer Thomas’ calls? But not mine?! Why?! Why did you just leave?! What happened?! What did I do to you that made you break down in my front garden!?” You look shocked at his outburst and look away taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You don’t remember?” He shakes his head no. From the slight gesture you can tell he got dizzy. He hasn’t eaten you can tell by the way you see his veins strain to pump blood through his body.

“4 days ago… you rejected my affection. And when I said I wanted to be close to you. You called me clingy and annoying. After I made food for us…” you sigh and look at him. You see he’s deep in thought trying to recount those memories.

“These past days… I’ve just been trying to give you space, to complete the painting. And your texts made me think you didn’t care about what you said so-“ you get cut off by a strong embrace. Whimpers and sobs are muffled by your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t remember… I was zoned out so hard I forgot who you were. In my mind in that moment you weren’t you. I guess I was so frustrated cause the piece just wasn’t working. Idk who my mind made you to be but that’s not how I think of you. You’re the only person in the entire world I’d let even be around me while I paint.” He takes your hands and presses soft kisses to them. “I’m so sorry I made you feel less than utterly precious. You are my priceless conch, whose voice is a song I’d listen to on repeat. My actions can’t and won’t just be excused and I don’t deserve forgiveness for making you cry.”

You kiss his hands and get him to stop talking. “My artist… my lemurian… my Rafayel. I do forgive you. You said yourself you were frustrated and that’s a valid emotion. But my emotions are valid to. I know I wasn’t being mature giving you the cold shoulder. I was just angry and hurt that I thought you forgot but you really didn’t remember. I’m sorry Yel’… I love you more than anything, and I never meant for this to happen. You gesture to the room and the state of his home.

You embrace him this time. Stroking his hair and shedding tears with him. Soon he looks up at you with puffy doe eyes. “Can we get something to eat… I haven’t eaten anything since the lobster rolls.” Your eyes widen.

“Raf! Seriously?!” The gasp and shriek make his head spin. He gives a nod shyly.

You hop up and head to the kitchen. Making water and food for him. You feel arms wrap around you as you cook. Soft kisses are peppered against your neck, as rafayel inhales your sent. “I missed you… oh, what did Thomas call you for?”

You turn to face him. “He wanted to make sure you got to center piece for the gala done… is it?”

You see him bite his lip and give a guilty smile. “Noooo… I’ve been busy… crying… you know cause my muse wasn’t around to give me inspiration.” He teases and laughs weakly as you give an offended scoff.

“I have some inspiration right now but I don’t think I could even lift a pencil right now.” He leans fully on your shoulder. Basking in your warmth as a yawn rips its way out of him.

He’s at peace. How could he not be, his muse is back in his arms.

————————————————————————————————————————

Bro… 4am thoughts be hitting different. But I wrote so much that it extended to a couple of days. Fun fact I was gonna do the other two as well but there was too much BUT RAFAYEL WILL HAVE A SMUT CONTINUATION OF THIS AND SO WILL THE OTHER BOYS!

#bunnix #bunnix writes #fluff #love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel x reader #bunnix simps again #rafayel x you #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel hcs

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lovelyverosika · 2 months

Text

Angels going crazy…crazy…is he angry maybe…maybe

Hazbin Hotel! Adam x Fem!reader

Part 4 —> Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Warning: swearing, slight violence, mention of suicide, suggestive ;)

3rd POV:

Meanwhile in the courtroom:

Everything was quiet. All eyes on them. Adam stood in front of Monika with an unreadable expression on his face. "Sir, what are you doing?", Lute said as she came down the podium. Sera looked unsure as well and Charlie looked shocked or to say it better betrayed. Monika knew that redemption was possible the whole time and didn’t tell her and on top of it she’s not the nice demon she acted to be.

"Leave now.", said Adam with a stern voice. Monika raised an eyebrow. "Why?", she asked. "I said leave.", Adam said again, this time with a louder voice. "Naw, are you hurt because your sweet wife is actually a dumb loser bitch?", Monika said with a mocking grin. "I SAID LEAVE, YOU DUMB BITCH OR ELSE I BEAT YOU DOWN THE HOLE YOU CAME FROM MYSELF!", Adam basically screamed at her. Monika looked at him with widen eyes. "Whoa dude, chill.", said Monika with a slight scared expression on her face. "Enough is enough.", Adam said while grabbing Monika roughly and pushing her down the portal to hell. "I’m so sorry for all this mess.", said Charlie as she grabbed Vaggies hand and left for the portal as well. Without saying another word Adam flew out of the courtroom, leaving everyone either confused or shocked.

The streets of heaven were unusually quiet and the angels seem to be in some kind of distress. Why? Because of none other than the first man. The last time they saw him in such an angry state was when Y/N left heaven for 2 weeks for business. Right now he wanted to be alone to clear up his mind or at least collect his thoughts. He really hoped Emily didn’t took Y/N to their shared home, he doesn’t want to get seen in such a vulnerable state at all costs after all he was THE Adam, THE first man. He let out a sigh of relief when he opened the door and everything was quiet. Immediately he went into their shared bedroom and threw his mask on the floor. With a heavy sigh searched for something in the closet of his wife. After a few minutes he found it and couldn’t help but to crack a small smile. It was a stuff bunny, which resembles Y/N.

On their first valentine’s day Y/N has gifted it to him, of course he acted all rough and tough before actually accepting the gift. What would the other angels think if they saw THE first man being all infatuated because of a simple stuff bunny. Behind closed doors he let his facade fall together with his mask since he knew how sensitive Y/N was and how fast she got insecure about those kind of things. Loving kisses and lots of sweet, teasing words were shared that evening but no one needs to know how smitten he actually is. He lied down on her side of the bed, inhaling her comforting smell. He didn’t know how to feel, he still had mixed feelings about what he found out. Out of exhaustion he then fell asleep.

-time skip-

It was early in the morning when Y/N came home, she slept over at Emily’s since she thought it would be the best to give Adam some time. She couldn’t help but to be scared. Adam hated sinners but she changed and redeemed herself and when you think about it there are demons who did much worse than she did. Of course she regretted throwing away her previous life but the past can’t be changed. Everything here in heaven is different now, she finally found someone who makes her (after) life worth living for. Guilt flooded her mind, she only had herself to blame but she couldn’t just causally tell him that she used to be a demon, sadness and fear were one of her most dominant emotions.

Controlled by fear she only does things with a small chance of turning out bad, which lead to her missing out a lot of things since her youth. Adam always gave her a slight push to try out as much as possible as long she’s not too uncomfortable. The outcome was pretty satisfying to her, she tried out lots of new things and they even went to a concert together. Sure it was overwhelming at first but in the end she enjoyed it even more than he did. She smiled at the memory as she walked towards the bedroom door.

She took a deep breath as she opened the door with shaky hands but she relaxed a bit as she saw Adam still sleep. She walked up to him and smiled, he held the stuff bunny she gifted him close to his chest, that must be a good sign, right? Careful not to wake him she kissed his forehead and left the bedroom to prepare some breakfast. Even if he’s going for the divorce she wanted to show him her love and appreciation for one last time.

Right when she finished his favourite breakfast he came out of the bedroom. He sat down in front of her without saying anything, which made Y/N feel even more unsure and nervous than before. "Redemption…huh.", were the first words he said. "Well yes and I’m so sorry for not telling you..I just thought you would like leave me if I told you. And I know you don’t really like demons but I only got to hell because I thought suicide was the answer, which obviously isn’t true, so I’m not a murder or anything. But if you want to leave me I can totally understand that and I’m not mad or anything just a bit sad but-"

Adam interrupted her: "Sheesh babe chill, if you only were this talkative in bed..just kidding this is serious. I forgive you after all how can I stay mad at you when you’re my sweet wifey. Of course you were an asshole for not telling me but you’re still you. Damn I sound cheesy right now." With a loud happy squeal Y/N basically threw herself on Adam and hugged him tightly as they now lay on the floor. "Ouch fuck!", he said while patting her back. Y/N mumbled a quiet sorry before giving him a quick peck on his cheek. "So are we going like fuck now?", he said with a playful smirk. "Adam.. we’re having a wholesome moment right now.", Y/N whined before gently punching his shoulder. They spend the whole afternoon cuddling and just appreciating each other’s affection.

Later that day when the sun went down Adam took Y/N to her favourite flower garden. No one else was there just them. Suddenly Adam got on his knees, leaving Y/N confused and a bit excited. "I’m not good with words, babe but when I say I love you I really mean it and I know we’re already married but will you marry me? I wanna marry the other part of you as well..wanna make you all mine.", he said, leaving Y/N stunned. "Yes, yes and yes!", she answered, touched by his sweet word. Without saying anything else they kissed deeply with the sun setting down behind them.

They spent the rest of the night underneath their sheets naked while loving each other passionate and deeply.

The End<3

A/N: Looking back I never thought that anyone would read this fanfic, which is based on one of my delusional daydreams. The amount of support I got really touched me. That’s why I decided to continue this small Adam x reader series. I really hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for everything<3

#adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader

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lialacleaf · 7 months

Text

To Care For A Woman

Chapter 8

Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not...

Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception I'm sorry it's unedited...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

You were quiet while you watched him pack. It was always the moments right before he left that you felt the coldest. He hadn't even left yet, but something about watching him move Moonbeam off of his duffle bag for the hundredth time, patting the cat patiently on the head, made your chest ache.

It would be weeks before you saw him again. When he finally noticed you staring from the kitchen, he zipped his bag shut and padded across the living room to pull you into his arms.

"Won't be gone too long, love. Just some loose ends to tie up," he said, placing a kiss on your cheek.

It wasn't as if you wouldn't be busy while he was gone. You had physical therapy, gardening, and plenty of reading to keep yourself occupied until he was back.

You'd still miss him though. The lack of his gruff voice in your ear in the mornings, his arms around your waist, and the feeling of his chest pressed against your back. There was nothing quite like him.

"Tell Johnny I said hello," you murmured, tilting your head upwards to press a kiss against his lips. You knew for the next few months they would become chapped under the rough material of his balaclava.

"Will do."

"Keep each other safe."

Of course.

"Remember to eat something-"

"y/n,"

"I love you, Simon," you murmured.

He hummed softly in your ear as he squeezed you against his chest. "Love you more."

It was supposed to have been no longer than three weeks. You'd started calling base after the first month, asking if there had been any sign of his team.

Two months went by with no news, and your poor garden was the victim of your frustration as you aggressively dug up your potatoes and planted carrots. You were going to have a full pantry by the time Simon came home.

Moonbeam had been equally distressed by the lack of Simon's presence, and you found yourself snuggling the cat in bed most days, hoping you'd receive a call to come pick up your husband any day now.

You had just about succumbed to the idea of the third month coming to an end before Simon returned when you received a call from Captain Price, asking that you come to base as quickly as you could.

You had felt unease tighten in your stomach at his tone. The last time you'd received such a call, Simon had been in a horrible state, and you couldn't help but worry about your poor husband as you packed a thermos of tea for him and loaded into the truck.

The drive felt longer than usual, and you wished you could simply teleport directly to him. You pulled haphazardly into a parking spot and jumped out of the truck.

"Lass," Soap greeted you as he led you to Price's door. His face was somber, and he didn't attempt to make conversation.

You knocked softly on Price's door, and waited for a reply. The door opened to reveal the Captain, looking far more tired than you'd ever seen him.

"Sir? Is everything all right?" you asked.

"y/n, come in. Have a seat," he instructed, pressing his lips together firmly.

"Is Simon alright? Can I see him?" you asked desperately.

Price hung his head as he sat before his desk, running his bottom lip between his teeth.

"I...I'm so sorry, y/n,"he started, and your eyes narrowed. He pushed a folder towards you, sighing deeply. "These are all his assets. He left you everything."

He left you everything.

He left you.

"Simon wouldn't leave," you said, your lip wobbling.

"I truly appreciate what you did for him. I'm sure it wasn't easy loving someone like him. Someone like Ghost."

you shook your head, a sob breaking past your lips. "Where is he?" you begged.

Price swallowed thickly. "We couldn't bring you a body, I'm sorry. We were ambushed. The building went up in flames," he explained. "They knew we were coming."

"Where is he!" you sobbed, unwilling to believe he was gone.

Price simply shook his head, moving from his desk to pull you against his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

You poured the tea from the thermos into the sink, feeling the tears run down your cheeks as you did so. You couldn't believe it. You had lost him. After everything you'd done to hold onto him, you'd lost him.

The cabin suddenly felt so much colder with the knowledge that he was never coming back. It stung in your chest, and suffocated your throat.

You had money, food, and everything you'd need to live, but you'd give all of it up in a heartbeat if it meant you could have him back.

You placed a hand on the kitchen counter as you fought back a sob.

"I want him back," you whispered. " I want him back!"

Your hand connected with the plain white mug on the counter and sent it flying into the wall, causing it to shatter.

"I want him back! I want him back!" you cried, falling to your knees as your fist pounded into the floor.

He was supposed to be untouchable. Supposed to come back to you. Now he really was his namesake.

You were supposed to be there to protect him, but you hadn't had his back when he needed it most. You'd never felt such a desire to throw your useless body down the stairs.

A soft meowing pulled you out of those dark thoughts, and you pulled Moonbeam into your lap with a sob. "He's not coming back," you whispered to the cat as if wishing the creature would somehow prove you wrong.

you received no answer as you lay amongst the debris of your tantrum on the kitchen floor.

The apparitions started shortly after that night you spent sobbing your heart out, begging your husband to come home, as if his Ghost would hear you and miraculously pull his body from the grave once more.

But maybe you had been all too successful in calling his Ghost to you. You felt as if you were being watched when you went into town for more meat. It was an itch in the back of your head that wouldn't disappear.

You could have sworn you saw his figure in the glass window of the shop, but when you turned around he wasn't there.

The shopkeeper raised a brow at you, and you quickly paid before hauling your groceries into the truck.

You couldn’t help but look behind you in the rear view mirror on the drive home, watching to see if you were being followed.

You felt a shift in the wind as you quickly made your way into the cabin, locking the door behind you.

You pulled Moonbeam into your lap as you sat on the couch, rubbing her soft fur as your hands shook.

You saw movement, something shadowy outside your window, and you could have sworn the moonlight reflected a white surface.

You had never seen yourself as the dependent type, but you wished Simon was there to hold you, to reassure you that nothing could harm you.

A loud banging sounded against the door, had you jumping out of your skin, and you ran to the bedroom for your pistol.

You wanted to see your husband again, but not if it meant being six feet under with him.

The banging continued, like an erratic drumbeat of death as the person pounded frantically at the door.

You gripped the hun in your hand, pointing it towards the entry as you threw the door open, prepared to defend yourself against…

The hun fell from your boneless fingers as a choked noise left your lips. Your eyes settling on the panting form before you, blood smeared on the skull mask, ash stuck to his jacket. Ghost.

Your Ghost.

“Simon?” You whispered, noting the wild, frantic look in his eyes. He wheezed a little, coughing as he took a shaky step towards you, his legs nearly buckling beneath him. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it as he slid to the floor.

Another cough racked his body, and a shaking, gloved hand reached for you. You grasped his hand, feeling your heart race inside your chest as you gently pulled his glove away from his hand, inspecting the burnt patches of fabric, before your eyes landed on one of the burns littering his skin.

He simply stared at you through the eyes of his mask, deep brown eyes burning into your form.

He was alive. He was alive. The words rang in your ears over and over again.

You stood quickly, racing to the bathroom for a first aid kit. Ghost didn’t try to stop you, watching closely as you began to strip his other glove, then his jacket, and next his shirt until he was left in the mask and a black tank top.

“This is going to sting,” you warned, dabbing some rubbing alcohol onto his burned skin, watching as he tried not to jerk away from you. There were burns along his shoulders too, and you tended to them carefully, wrapping the once you’d applied a salve to his injuries.

Your eyes settled on his once you were finished, and with a shaky hand he moved to lift the mask above his nose. “C’mere,” He mumbled, tiredly, and you leaned closer, balancing yourself with a hand on the door behind him.

His lips crashed onto yours, and you delicately cupped his chin, leaning into the affection.

“We’ve gotta go,” he said, pulling away. “Gotta help me pack the truck,” he said, stiffly attempting to sit up.

“Go? Go where? Price thought you were dead-“

“Good. We’re safer that way.”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion. “Safer?”

“They were waiting for us. Waiting for me. That was the point. Draw us out, get rid of the Ghost. They got what they wanted, now we have to run before someone decides to make sure they did the job right.”

“We should tell your team-“

“We can’t tell anyone,” he interrupted, his eyes meeting yours before looking away. “You don’t have to come with me,” he began, and your eyes widened. “If you don’t wanna run, you don’t have to, but you can’t stay here. I’ll take you to your family-“

“No.” He tilted his head at you. “I’m not abandoning you, Simon. If you go, I’m coming with you. I’m not losing you again,” you decided resolutely, tears welling up in your eyes.

His eyes seemed to soften, and he reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “If that’s what you want,” he whispered.

Your answer was to press your lips on his. “I did say I wanted to see Cambridge.”

Simon nuzzled your cheek in response. “Whatever you want, love.” He murmured. He’d give you anything and everything.

“You,” you choked. “I want you.”

Tag List:

@originaldeerhottub @crowbird

@warenai @livynicole @ghostlythots @hilowhiho @mrmountainman @miamia89 @shiraya92 @crocodilefeet2707

@zzariyahchan @gaida-511 @misshoneypaper @soldierlass @dazaiscum @mockerycrow @kaysav608 @classygardencroissantcolor @innerskylover @kristalhi @hotaruteba @tzutology @sushiumex @l3xiluve @immajustlikeok

@iplayghoul @linoskitten11 @zollaris @whore-for-anime @migeuloharaslxt @blog-luvdance @embermdk @buttercupmuffins

@corpsebridenightamare @15382663884 @discowizard88 @strawberryjambrrread @lieblinqs

#simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley

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jeonsbabygirlsworld · 1 month

Text

DESIRE PT.2

SUMMARY: Life was easy until you meet the eye candy of your life and the adventure with him is a hell of ride, but there is certain someone who seems to get hurt in this.

PAIRINGS: Bartender Yoongi X reader (ft Gynecologist Jungkook)

WORD COUNT: 1.8K

WARNINGS: Smut, reader is a flustered cause of course its Jungkook, eekkk Eunwoo is here as well! but he's here only for this chapter, that's it ig, Jungkook is Mia, but he soon will be here!!

SMUT WARNINGS: Doggy, blowjob, fingering, cum eating.

Note: this is inspired by a web series and I’m GONNA EDIT IT, I’m not gonna make it a whole ass 3 season containing 10-12 episodes per season and I felt like I could do something with this series. Thankyou

Work work work......

these past days it's been hell for you from the meetings and cracking up deals you were tired of it , but you still showed up every other day at the office. The interns and other employees did no good when they were asked to fill up your place when you were late for the office.

What kept you alive between this constant hectic schedule was a shot of vodka to wash down all the stress at your and the girl's favourite bar, you guys would spend the almost whole night until it was Yoongi telling you it was time to close the bar for the day.

Just like any other Friday night, you were here with your girls chatting about all the stuff which happened this week and they try to console you saying it's all right and you will pass through it, both of the girls then reach over to give you a warm hug.

Spending a few hours with them Chae gets a call from her husband telling her that he desperately needs help with the 3-year-old. “I'm sorry guys I have to leave, Yu-Jin seems to have a fever and she needs me” Chae says grabbing her purse and getting ready to leave.

Telling Chae a very goodbye and telling her to take care, Yuna is the next one to leave after she gets a call from her girlfriend, she hesitates to look at you, and you tell her it is fine and she can leave, she initiated a small hug and presses kiss on your forehead before she apologizes again.

Feeling alone in this busy bar, you see a busy Yoongi serving drinks on the countertop with Taehyung right beside him, maybe he saw you staring at him so you wave your hand and ask him if it's okay if you can come and sit there, he says he's more than happy to have you there.

"Hey, miss how are you? doing okay?" Yoongi asks before serving the last customer for the time being and telling Taehyung to look after them, "I'm okay I guess work is killing me, the meetings and the deals and whatnot is what I'm bored of you tell me?" Sighing you wait for him to answer, and he chuckles and says he's completely fine.

Yoongi places two glasses in front of you one for him and the other one for you of course, pouring in some of your favourite Japanese malts you chug it down with a “Cheers” Groaning at the taste he brings up some fries on the side and you thank him for being considerate.

"I'm bored yoongi, I wanna go on a trip or something." The tipsy you come out of you, and you slur occasionally while speaking “Calm down y/n, it's enough shall I call a cab for you?” Ever so sweet Yoongi asks you just because you are out of it after having the shots you had with the girls and the three glasses of malt with yoongi.

Yoongi soon books a cab and tells the man to drop you at the place, you reach your home soon after the fifteen minutes of the ride just to see your ex- fuck buddy right outside your house.

“Eunwoo? What the fuck? when did you come back?” Your mood instantly lights up after seeing him after so long and all the tipsiness goes away. “Hey y/n, I landed a few hours ago and thought of visiting you first and right when I was about to call you, here you were” He says with a bright smile.

You intended to initiate “Just a hug” but you don't know how he is under the sheets right now eating you out like a hungry man, “fuck right there woo” you moan and reach a good orgasm after a long time, your vibrator did no good until you felt a tongue or fingers or even someone's dick at this point.

Upon reaching your orgasm the man between you now hovers above you with his lips drenched in your release, and grabs on his hard length and positions right where your hole clenches, the release makes the slide just perfect for him to slide inside you and a moan tremble from his lips.

“Yeah perfect, keep going,”you say and grab on the small wisps of hair on the back of his head, and he grunts at the tight fit making him almost “relax angel, I promise I'll be good just please....”soft moans leave his mouth and both cum at the same time.

After a few minutes, Eunwoo lays on the side of your bed and talks to you until an awkward silence fills in and you call his name softly “Eunwoo...” sighing he gets up and leaves the bed and soon goes to grab his clothes and place a last kiss on your cheeks before telling you goodbye.

You sigh feeling bad for telling him to go but yeah you were always like this, and he knows it well just like that waking up from the bed you grab on the new sheets to change and place soft pillows all over your big bed and go back to sleep peacefully.

THE NEXT MORNING

“Hey hi! I'd like to order a butter croissant and black coffee” You get the cash ready and tell the counter women to take your order, not realizing you hear someone calling your full name and when you turn around to see it no one then "Mr. jeon your gynaecologist."

With a flustered smile, you tell him a quick "hi" before paying her the bill and getting off the line, you didn't expect him to get off the line with you, in a flustered state you ask him if he lives here and all the stuff and grab your order just to tell her she can pack this as a takeaway.

Rolling her eyes she packs up the drink and food and gives you the bag while Jungkook just gives you a crooked smile and walks out “Hey by the way I got my period last week” you tell him, and it gets more than awkward it was earlier.

“Oh, that's great, good to see you” Jungkook says, and you wave a quick bye when you get a call from your coworker and leave the place Jungkook stands there, and a smirk paints his lips.

This is the fourth time you are pissed at your coworker today; they fucked up the most important file “Can you at least get me a copy of the papers?” you ask again getting disappointed again “Sorry ma'am I didn't get the photocopies of it” Your intern says and you just sigh.

“Okay maybe try searching the file again, and if not I'll contact the clients and tell them to send the original copies,” you tell and dismiss the meeting, at this point, you need nothing more than a cold martini.

“Can you believe Chae, they misplaced the fucking file, I'm glad they weren't the original or else I would've been fucked” you say very much pissed at the events which happened today, while Chae and Yuna just sip on their drinks after trying to calm you down.

“Chill baby, everything's going to be fine you need to calm down y/n” your friends tell you and you just sigh, you long for nothing more but a break from this bullshit, paying up for the drinks today you say goodbye to your friends and go ahead to meet yoongi, who is the position of cleaning up for the day.

“Hey, how are you y/n?” Yoongi asks in a very yoongi manner his front teeth appearing when he talks to you, and you tell him all the events happening with you while he places two glasses of whiskey in front of you.

You don't even notice it is past one a.m. until Eunwoo texts you.

EUNWOO🫣🫣: hey, you up?

YOU: busy right now.

YOU: rain check?

"Another glass?" you ask him after chugging down the remaining glass while Yoongi hesitates and tells you he needs to stock up for a party which is happening tomorrow, you give him an embarrassed smile and tell him it is fine, and you will leave Yoongi feels equally embarrassed to cut you off for the night.

YOU: Free now, will be in 15 mins.

"Fuck right there" you moan at your ex- fuck buddy who is fucking you like a slut, your face down facing the sheets while he hammers from the back, his moans and grunts fill the room, and the room smells of sex and sweat.

"Fuck baby, you are so tight, missed me while I was away, right?" Eunwoo mutters while thrusting inside you and you choke on your moans and manage to mumble a small "yes" clenching on the sheets you cry for more, you needed this after a long day at work.

"Gonna cum.....ye-ah right there" you shutter at one point when he finds your g -spot, the slapping of his hips fastens just when you cum and cream his cock, and the man behind you slows and pulls out a bit just to see the creamy slick forming at the base, "fuck so messy y/n," Eunwoo says while he fills you up with his hot cum.

"On your back baby," he says, and you obey at lightning speed and your eyes shut at the moment when he nibbles on your pebbled nipples, you twitch at the feeling until you moan out loud when his thumb rubs on your clit and his index finger enters you.

Your pussy gushes out the mixture of both of your releases and messes up the sheets under you, Eunwoo continues to slurp and nibble your nipples while you whine at the overstimulation and fall apart on his fingers again for the second time in the night.

"lay down wanna suck you off real good" you whisper and kiss his lips in the heat of the moment, now that you are in between his thighs you start laying some soft kisses all over the tip and he whines at the sensitivity.

The taste of your releases still lingers on his tip, and you whimper at the taste, sucking on the tip Eunwoo above you is about to lose on for the second time, his soft grunts surrounded the room as you palmed and layed soft kisses on his balls.

The tightness of the grip he has on your hair ensures you that he is about to cum and increase your pace in palming him and you soon let him cum in your mouth and you swallow like a good girl you were.

You don't know why you let Eunwoo stay even after it was ruled to never let any fuck buddy stay at your house after fucking but here you are in his embrace and cuddling him.

A/N: Thank you for the reading ik it is confusing not Appeling ending or the whole chapter I'm sry but I'll do better. tag list is open.

TAGLLIST: @jungk97kwife @kingofbodyrolls @kimmingyuswifee @heyyymin @cassies-cookies @missnea @kooklovee @lovkiss @jungkooktoespost @jalexad @gimeow @lillove7 @marvelbun @namelesskeid @tyche0119 @gbbhbc123 @whoa-jo @holybxba @bangtans-momma @gdjyho @kpopsmutty69

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drunkenlionwrites · 11 months

Note

jealous dan heng ,gepard, and himeko (separate) pulling you aside to eat you out/fuck you or literally anything ever

afab gn reader please<333

Hi nonnie! That's such a hot request. Sorry that Dan Heng's part is so lackluster. I went all out on Gepard and Himeko though! Hope you enjoy it :3 Warnings: nsfw, gender-neutral, afab reader, penis in vagina sex, oral sex (reader receiving)

Dan Heng

Since arriving to Xianzhou Luofu and helping with their pursuit of Kafka, general Jing Yuan began frequently sending texts to you and Stelle whenever he felt bored…which was pretty often. He became accustomed to your visits and often invited the two of you over to play starchess. Dan Heng didn’t see anything bad about it in the beginning, thinking that the general just found the company of trailblazers amusing. But then, why hadn’t he invited March or him for once? It has always been you, and a bit less frequently Stelle.

Still, Dan Heng was a patient man and he saw that you didn’t mind paying visits with general and later talked to him about the conversations you’ve had with Jing Yuan. His patience, though, has ended at some point. That point being one more text with invitation from general to visit him the same evening as you and Dan Heng already planned a small date together.

“You will not go” he said with a calm commanding voice. You looked at him with slightly widened eyes, not used to such an intonation from your lover. “What’s gotten into you all of the sudden?” you asked.“Last time I checked, I was your boyfriend, not general. And I’d like you to spend time with your boyfriend instead of other men, whose company you seem to prefer lately” you could almost see a pout on his face. “Dan Heng…could it be…are you possibly jealous?” you asked with amusement in your voice.

He just went to the door of the archive room and locked it, turning back to you and capturing you in his hands. “Seems like I’ll need to make sure the general sees that you’re busy with other matters” he muttered against your neck, his lips sucking on your soft skin, leaving marks without a doubt, while he pushed you in the direction of his makeshift bed.

Gepard

Gepard was a busy man, so young yet already a captain of the Silvermane Guards. After Bronya became the new Supreme Guardian of Belobog he had even less time, aiding her in whatever way he could, while also guarding Belobog from the fragmentum. He was a busy man, yet he always did his best to find time for you, which seemed to be irrelevant to you lately, since you’ve also been busy, running and helping here and there, spending your time between Natasha’s clinic, Serval’s shop and many other people. Last time he saw you was around 2 weeks ago due to your busy schedules.

Last message he sent you has been today, asking for a meeting, writing about how he missed you, feeling his cheeks getting a bit hot as he typed those letters. He received the response that you’ll be busy helping out someone at Qlipoth Fort. While feeling a bit let down, he understood your predicaments and since he still had some free time off, he decided to go visit Serval at her shop. Upon entering it and seeing you there, happily laughing with Serval and Stelle, drinking the tea, he frowned a but, noticing three pairs of eyes turning back to greet him. “Hi, Gepard, so great that you’re here!” you said while you stood up and came trotting up to him, hugging his neck.

“Stelle, sister” he nodded to the other two girls, “I need to borrow your friend for a minute to have a quick talk” he said seriously. You gulped, as Gepard began leading you upstairs, which served as Serval’s living area. You awaited a lecture, or an awkward shy talk with blushing Gepard. What you didn’t expect was his lips crushing onto yours as soon as the doors closed behind you. “It’s so hard to catch you these last few days. “You left me feeling lonely and neglected” he said in between kisses, his hands clumsily meddling with the buttons of your jacket and then shirt, his thigh coming to press between your legs. “Do you even know how much I long for you?” he said, his got breath fanning your face, his eyes already hazed and half-lidded.

“Oh Gepard, I am so sorry that I’ve been such a neglectful partner. Let me make it up to you” you looked up at him from beneath your lashes, which only made him audibly whine and hoist you up by your thighs to sit you up on the dresser, sliding your skirt up, leaving only your panties on for now. “Oh, I know a way for make it up to me now.” his face was flushed, his breath uneven, as he reached his pants to get rid off the piece of garment that divided you. Once he was done, he trailed the stipe down your clothed pussy with his fingers, feeling them already soaking with your lube.

He pushed your panties aside, his thumb pressing slow circles to your clit as he pressed his already hard cock to your pussy, entering you in one fast movement. You gasped at that, feeling your walls stretching around him with a slight burning sensation. Gepard moaned, feeling your soft wet walls hugging his cock. “You’re so very hot inside right now” he grunted to your ear, setting up a quick pace from the beginning. The dresser was staggering and hitting the wall each time Gepard was pushing his length inside you. You could only helplessly moan, clutching your hands onto his shoulders, taking everything he was giving you, the fleeting thought of Stelle and Serval hearing you had passed your mind, but you were too far gone to care.

Himeko

It's been only around a month since you and Himeko confessed to each other and started officially dating. Everything has been wonderful, you two basking in each other’s affections and having a wonderful time together. You didn’t want to look dumb and uninformed in front of Himeko, since you were in the period of your relationship when you still want to impress your lover and show your best sides, so you started going for advice and information to Welt. Sometimes your talks lasted for few hours, you eagerly absorbed all the information provided like a sponge, excited to learn all the new things about the Galaxy and trailblazing in general.

Little did you know that your sudden interest in Welt caused your beloved to feel a bit insecure and abandoned. One evening, when you had already spent around 2 hours in Welt’s room and still didn’t come out, Himeko grew impatient and knocked on the door, entering the room without waiting for the answer. “Welt, do you mind if I take your dear companion for a moment?” Welt looked at her a little bit surprised, but just shrugged saying “Why not? We’re done for today anyway, I think” Smiling at you, he returned to his business, while you followed Himeko hesitantly, haven’t seen her so impatient before. You’ve always thought of her as of a collected and mature woman full of patience and wise beyond her years. And now this mature woman was tugging you by the sleeve, leading you to her room unceremoniously.

Once she reached the destination, she led you to her bed, pushing you gently when you were touching it with the backs of your knees, plopping next to you and looking into your face expectedly. “I’ve been missing you lately” she confessed, caressing your thigh. “What does Welt have that I don’t, that you prefer his company to mine?” she asked softly. You looked at her, thinking over her question. Was she…insecure? It dawned on you how it must’ve looked from her perspective. “Oh no, Himeko. It’s not…it’s not like that. I’ve been asking Welt to tell me more about space travelling and different places, about you know…about everything, so I can hold meaningful conversations with you, so I can be interesting to you. I didn’t come to you because I didn’t want to seem…incompetent” Himeko’s face has brightened with relief as she chuckled and pushed you down on the bed, her fingers trailing beneath your skirt, her face following them.

“Oh kitten…” she murmured gently “I would never think of you this way. I would’ve enjoyed explaining to you anything you want to know about.” You’ve felt her slender fingers tugging your panties off you, her hot mouth pressing to your core once you were freed from them. She trailed circles around your clit, alternating between kissing your pussy, pressing hot long stipes against it and trailing random patterns, earning frantic noises leaving your mouth. “Have I ever made you feel like you should be embarrassed in front of me, kitten?” she asked, her voice quiet and erotic, which made you clench around nothing, causing you to whine impatiently. She chuckled, burying her face between your legs, her fingers entering your pussy, beginning moving inside of you, curling to get to your sensitive spot. She ate you out so eagerly, so desperately, the movements of her fingers causing the room to be filled with the lewd noises of your squelching pussy.

“Ah, Himeko…I won’t last long…I…I’ll cum now.” you mewled. “Come onto my face, kitten. And throw your foolish thoughts out of your head, m?” she said, moving her lips from your pussy for a moment. You felt all thoughts completely leaving your head once you began pulsing around her lithe fingers.

#hsr smut #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr headcanons #Dan Heng smut #Gepard smut #Himeko smut #Dan Heng x reader #Gepard x reader #Himeko x reader #dan heng x you #gepard x you #himeko x you #lion writes

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