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frantic-fiction · 3 months

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Payback 18+

(Pic: northernolddragon) I cropped it

Astarion x f!reader, Astarion x f!Tav

Summary: Astarion goes too far and embarrasses Tav in front of the party. She decides she wants a bit of revenge.

Warning: Smut, MDNI, slight Dom!reader, slight Sub!Astarion, Dom/Sub switch (kinda?), delayed orgasm, Oral sex m and f receiving, PnV sex,

Word Count: 3.8k (I'm a gremlin who just can't help myself)

Masterlist

That fucking asshole. How dare he? You slammed open the door, the handle hitting the wall with a resounding smack. Locking it behind you, you kick off your shoes, stumble over your feet, and rip off your dress. You begin throwing off every other accessory and remaining article of clothing until you are completely bare and breathing heavily. You sigh, frustrated, and pull on a pair of trousers and an old, tattered shirt. Anger pulses through your veins, and embarrassment burns deep in your chest. Falling onto the bed, you drop your face into your hands and pull at the ends of your hair.

Astarion went too far this time. Usually, you loved his sassy comments and sarcastic humor. You were typically the first to laugh when he jests and pokes fun at you and the other party members. But how can you laugh when his lighthearted jokes turn to dirty secrets? When he's telling your friends out in a crowded pub intimate details from your sex life.

You should have known it was a bad idea to have Astarion feed from you while there was liquor coursing through your veins. But he was curious and very convincing. It didn't take long before you were offering him your wrist. Neither of you really thought the alcohol would affect Astarion, and you didn't expect Astarion to be such a fucking ass when intoxicated.

He teased you and shared private moments all night, and you wanted to hate him. Moreover, you wanted him to be sorry. Beg for forgiveness and mean it. But Astarion is a prideful man and has a stupidly hard time giving out apologies. He's improved, especially with you, but you don't want a simple sorry. You want payback, a little revenge, or as close to it as possible.

A sudden, devilish thought crosses your mind, and you know how you're going to get just that. Quickly, you jump up and move to set your plan in motion. You clean up the room, erasing your angry tantrum from before, and strip down naked once more. You dig around Astarion's pack and pull out his white-laced shirt. And then you wait for him.

It takes just under an hour of waiting. You filled the time with one of the books you picked up the other day. But just as you go to flip another page, the door handle twists, catching on the lock. You’re on your feet and at the door before Astarion can attempt to unlock it. The palm of your hand hits the door hard, and you're holding it close.

"Why should I let you in?" Your tone lace with venom.

"Darling," Astarion sighs, a tinge of exhaustion undertoned in his words, his voice no longer holding that annoying drunken slur. "Must we do this?"

"You weren't very nice to me tonight." You lean your back against the door, crossing your arms. “I have half a mind to make you bunk with someone else.”

His head falls against the wood, pushing lightly against your back. "If you let me in, I promise I'll make it up to you." It felt like he was breathing these words sinfully into your ear.

You flip the lock and open the door. "Say you're sorry."

"Is that really what you want?" He purrs, his eyes darkening and pressing into your space. "I much prefer physical apologies."

Astarion pulls you into a lustful kiss, his hand snaking up your shirt and massaging your breast. He bites your lip, and when you gasp, he licks into your mouth. He traces his fingers over your hip bone and pulls you close.

"Wearing my shirt with no underwear?” He nips your bottom lip, and you shudder. “I don't think you're as mad as you say, my sweet."

You smile sharply and pull him further into the room. Reclaiming his lips, you start pulling at his shirt, exposing Astarion's pale skin. He's kissing down your neck, tugging your shirt aside to lather his tongue over your shoulder. His fangs tease your skin, and you moan. Trailing your fingertips down his stomach, you undo his pants, tugging it down. Astarion steps out, leaving him in a pair of tight briefs, an outline of his swelling cock evident against the straining fabric. He pushes the trousers to the side, and the two of you fall onto the bed in a heap.

"Who says this is for you?" you say coyly, forcing his head to the side and biting hard at his throat.

"Hells,"

"Maybe I was going to take care of myself tonight." You kiss his cheek "Take a bath, have some wine," you bring your lips to his ear. "Touch myself." You tease his ear between your teeth. His grip tightens on you. "I don't need you to please myself, Astarion."

Astarion groans deep in his chest and runs his hands up your thighs to the swell of your ass. He grinds you down onto his half-hard cock. "But here we are."

"But here we are." You mimic, smiling smugly, relishing how Astarion so confidently believes he holds all the cards.

He kisses you again, and you let him. You could easily get lost in the wet dance of lips and the delicious silent promises of more to come. Give in and just let Astarion consume you. But no, you are far more excited with what's to come.

"I want to taste you." You moan needily- dragging your teeth down his chest. Maybe you were playing it up, but it seemed to work. You circle his nipple with your tongue, and Astarion lets out a deep groan, nails digging into the plush flesh of your ass.

"Don't let me stop you, my love,"

You tug his cock out and squeeze him softly; he's stiff and aching and instinctually bucks up into your palm. Licking over his nipple, you begin to suck. A trickle of precum starts to fall, and you collect it, beginning to stroke slowly. Kissing down his stomach, you reach his pelvic bone. You look up, meeting Astarion's intense gaze. His mouth is agape, his chest moving in harsh breaths. One hand is reaching up, gripping the headboard in an ironclad grip. You softly press a kiss to the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth.

"Fuck," He hissed through clenched teeth, "Gods, I love your mouth."

Urged on by his response, you take more of him in his mouth and begin to move at a slow pace sucking and bobbing your head. Astarion's hands grabbed your shoulder and softly stroked up your neck to the back of your head. He didn't force the pace, just gently held your head, rubbing his thumb softly behind your ear.

"That's it, Darling. So good to me."

Heat rushes through your body, the praise going straight to your core. You hum and begin to bob your head faster. Sucking hard, hollowing your cheeks, you trail your hand down his tensed thigh and cup his balls. You roll him in your hands, and Astarion moans, thrusting into your mouth. You gag and grab his hips, holding him down with your weight.

He's close. His eyes are unfocused, trying desperately to stay on you; he's letting out breathless gasps and attempting to buck up into your mouth, seeking more for you to give. That's when you pull off of him entirely and squeeze his cock tightly.

Astarion lets out a needy whine, sits up, and instantly meets your eyes. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

"Apologize!"

"What?" Astarion says, dazed and still lost in the loss of stimulation. Then it dawns on him, and he realizes what's happening. "Naughty little-"

You give him one stroke, and Astarion chokes. "Apologize for embarrassing me tonight."

"My sweet, I was intoxicated; it's not really my fault." He's trying to give off an air of indifference, but you know him better. Astarion was moments away from crumbling.

"I was just as drunk, and I wasn't telling everyone about our sex life." You lick over the tip and begin to stoke him slowly. "Apologize, and I might just let you fuck me."

He moans deeply, thrusting up into your fist. "I-ng shit, I'm sorry, you were upset with my words tonight."

"Nope, try again." You stop completely and meet his eyes. "You have to mean it."

"Please! My love, I'm sorry." His voice cracks. He's practically whimpering; he brings his fist to his mouth and bites down to keep a semblance of control.

"That's closer, but what you said still hurts, so I want you to make it up to me." You move up his body and kiss him. "Do you want to make it up to me?"

"Yes! Anything!" He sounds so desperate. You don't think you've ever felt so aroused. You clench instinctually against nothing, seeking friction that's not there.

"I want you to beg. I want you to beg to fuck me, handsome" You scratch your nails teasingly down the broad of Astarion's chest. "I want everyone to hear how - how did you put it, love? 'desperate and needy' you are for me."

He looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, eyes blackened from arousal, and a smile stretches his lips."I like this side of you, Darling."

Astarion captures your lips, and you're on your back before you can comprehend what's happening. "My sweet, please, I need to touch you." His voice is louder than it needs to be.

"Do you?" You purr, hooking your leg over his hip.

"Yes!" He moans out, rutting against your dripping cunt. "Please, I need you!"

You brush your hand through Astarions hair and pull him down for a kiss. "Then be a good boy and touch me."

Astarion doesn't need to be told twice to tug up your shirt. You let him pull it off and throw it across the room. He starts to trail sloppy, wet kisses down the column of your neck. A rough hand grabs your breast, and nimble fingers pinch your nipple. You sigh and thrust your hips up when Astarions mouth finds your other nipple and rolls the peak softly between his teeth before sucking hard.

"Astarion," you moan, caressing any available skin of his you can reach. "So good to me."

He grunts at the praise and moves down your stomach, leaving kitten licks and sharp nips in his wake. His hands are trailing down your sides and stop to grip your hips in a firm hold. He pulls you down the bed, and you let out a little yelp. Astarion meets your half-lidded gaze and bites at the fat of your thigh, lapping up the droplets of blood that bead up to the surface.

"The sweetest treat," Astarion moans, throwing your leg over his shoulder, trailing his nose down your thigh to the spot you want him most. But I'm still famished. I need more, please."

"Don't let me stop you, handsome." You smirked, mimicking his previous words. Your breath was catching, and you felt just as desperate as Astarion.

You let out a gargled mewl when Astarion trails one long agonizing lick up the length of your cunt. He never breaks eye contact; you bite your lip and grip one of your breasts, fisting the other into the bedsheet.

Astarion consumes you like he'll never be able to again. Desperate, messy, and with no care for the thinness of the walls. You gasp and instinctually try to clamp your legs close. His cold hands hold your hips apart, only allowing pathetic gyrates of your hips. The room is filled with filthy wet slurps and needy moans as Astarion tears you apart.

"Faster, Star. Don't you dare stop," you demand, grinding against his face, shivering when his pointed nose teases your clit. "Such a good boy."

His moan quakes through your cunt, and you throw your head back into the pillow, arching your back slightly. Astarion's fingers push into you and match the ragged pace of his mouth. Your hand finds his soft curls again and holds him in place, pulling gently at the roots. Astarion could break away anytime, but he seems to like it because you feel him grind down against the bed.

"No, no, pretty boy." You tsk, pulling his hair harsher. He grunts against you, sucking harder at your clit. "You don't get to come until you’re forgiven."

Astarion pulls away from your clit, chin glistening with your juices. His fingers are still pumping into you. "You cruel women." He practically whines breathlessly.

"You're- shit- you're making up for your naughty behavior, remember?" The coil is tightening in your stomach, your body hot, and your breath shaky. "Now be good and make me come."

He smiles wickedly and resumes his ministrations. He curls his fingers up and presses against the spot that has you gasping in silent cries. His mouth finds your clit again and laps his tongue against it. He's relentless, and your legs are trembling. The pleasure is building, the flame licking through your veins.

"m close, Star,"

He doesn't stop or voice any cheeky comments he would typically make. He just pumps his fingers faster and sucks and lavishes his tongue harder against your cunt. You feel your body tightening, and you grab for anything to hold on to; one hand is still in Astarion's hair, but your other hand grabs his shoulder, digging your nails into his flesh. Astarion scrapes his fangs playfully against your clit, and that's all you need to fall apart.

You're moaning and screaming his name and mumbling incoherent praises into the air. Black spots seem to cloud over your vision, and all your muscles tighten at once. Astarion drags you through your orgasm, slowing his fingers and moving to soft kitten licks. It takes you a moment to return to yourself, and you are out of breath and covered in sweat. Looking down, you see Astarion. He's staring at you, licking his lips, collecting every drop of you. His face is full of affection and untenable arousal.

"Am I forgiven?"

You surge forward and tackle him into an uncoordinated kiss. You maneuver him around until his back is against the headboard, and you are seated comfortably in his lap. Your tongue tangled with his, the tangy sweetness of your release mingling in the dance. Pulling back, you catch his lip tugging playfully.

"Hmm… I don't know," You smirk, grabbing his neglected cock and giving it a few languid strokes.

"Darling, please!" He begs, head falling back, exposing his neck to your greedy mouth.

You press your mouth to the hollow of his throat and suck until you're sure there will be a noticeable mark tomorrow. "I guess you have been such a good boy." Circling your thumb over his tip, you swipe his cock through your folds, coating him in your arousal.

"Yes, I've been so good." His voice chokes, and he clenches his jaw, desperately trying to seek more friction. Hells, he was so incredibly sexy like this.

"And I think a good boy deserves a reward. Wouldn't you agree, Star?" The rush you feel at his desperation, his neediness for you and only you, has your confidence surging.

"Yes! Please!"

You line him up with your hole and sit down painfully slow. Two groans of pleasure join together in the room as you seat yourself to the hilt. Astarion grabs your hips in a death grip, releasing an almost painful hiss through his teeth. For a moment, you don't move; feel the stretch and the completeness he gives you. Meeting his eyes, you place your hands on his shoulders and raise on your haunches. You pull up almost off him completely before lowering at the same brutally slow pace.

"Gods, you're so tight." Astarion groans, head falling against your arm.

He uses the grip on your hips to help set a steady pace that has both of you dissolve into a moaning, blubbering mess. You clench around him and run your hand up his neck to the back of his head, pulling him to your chest. Astarion is quick to resume lavishing your breast with messy kisses, surely littering you with bites and bruises that will linger for days to come.

You would have loved to drag this out. Punish Astarion for hours until he was nothing but a mumbling, blushing pussy-drunk mess. But you were growing impatient, and the delicious feeling of Astarion's cock filling you was clouding your more devious thoughts. Grinding your hips down hard onto his cock had Astarion gasping into your chest.

You cupped his jaw and captured his mouth before whispering seductively into his ear. "You've been forgiven. Now I want you to fuck me hard."

A deep groan rumbled through Astarion's chest, and he did just that. You're suddenly on your back, and his tongue is in your mouth. The slow pace was thrown out the window to a brutal pounding that tore the breath from your lungs.

"A-astarion, fuck” You roll your hips to match his pace.

You're not going to last much longer; you don't think you've ever been more aroused, and seeing how pent-up Astarion is, having been teased along for too long. You know he's just as close. You grab his hand and pull it down your body to where you want it most. He grunts huskily in your ear and rubs harshly at your bundle of nerves. Throwing one of your legs over Astarion's hip, you adjust your body, and his thrusts find a new angle that presses against that beautiful spot inside of you.

Astarion’s other hand, can’t seem to stay still, moving up and down your body, trying to pay equal attention to all of your soft skin. He’s squeezing your hip, tickling your side, cupping your breast, and moving back down to repeat all over again. He’s peppering kisses over your forehead and cheeks, biting your kiss-swollen lips, running his nose along yours. It’s overwhelming and not enough, but it is always with him. Astarion moves to your neck and sucks at his favorite spot, the place he feeds most frequently from, silently begging for a taste.

"Mhm," you nod, words no longer forming on your tongue.

Astarion's fangs pierce your skin, and the familiar icy cold floods your veins. You cry out as he greedily drinks from your body. Your blood seems to turn Astarion feral. He grabs your other leg to join the other in a link behind his back. Astarion grinds you into the mattress, brutally pumping in and out of you. All your body can do is wrap your arms around his neck, smoothing your hands over his body, and hold on. The only sounds that echo in the darkroom are the slick, obscene sounds of skin sliding against skin and needy moans and desperate whimpers.

You can't tell if you're lightheaded because of the pleasure Astarion is giving you or the blood that he's consuming from your neck. It's probably both, but right now, you only care that he keeps going because that lovely burning heat is returning and boiling in your stomach.

"I'm so close," you whimper.

This has Astarion finally pulling away from your neck. He looks deeply into your eyes, his pace never faltering. There's a trickle of your blood running down his chin, and you reach up to catch it. You push your thumb into his mouth, and without breaking your gaze, Astarion licks it clean. He grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours above your head. His hand somehow seems to move faster against your clit, and you are moments away from coming undone. On the ledge but seemingly hanging by your fingertips.

"S-so am I, darling." He manages to stutter out, and you pull him down for a kiss. It is desperate and needy, and the taste of your blood, sharp and metallic, mingles with his spit. "Come for me, love; let me feel you."

Those words, always commanded with such affection, had an immediate effect. You clench around him like a vice, mouth falling open in a silent gasp. You sigh his name into his mouth and cup his face with your spare hand as if the moment you come down from this high Astarion might no longer be real.

Astarion's pace falters, and he clumsily thrusts. Once, twice, three more times before burying deep into your cunt and coming hard with a deep groan. While you're still amid your ecstasy, you are still mesmerized by Astarion coming undone before you. The way his jaw clicks shut and he squeezes his eyes closed. The tightening of his hand on your body, gripping hard enough to bruise, not that you minded. The stuttering minute juts of his hips as he rides out the last of his orgasm. And finally, watching Astarion's body turn to jelly, bones and muscles collapsing under his weight as he falls onto you, head finding your chest.

You run your hand through his curls, scratching his scalp. Astarion purrs softly and kisses your chest, running delicate fingers up your side. He catches your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss the inside of your wrist.

Astarion rolls off of you and moves from the bed. You whine at the loss of fullness but make no other protest. A tiredness has settled deep in your bones; you don't think you could move if you wanted to.

Thankfully, Astarion was quick to return. In his hands was a cup of water and a wet cloth. Smiling softly, you take the glass from him and take a long gulp. Handing it back, he places it on the nightstand and rejoins you in bed. Astarion delicately cleans you off, kissing your neck when you wince from oversensitivity. After that was taken care of, he discards the used cloth and pulls you to his chest, kissing the crown of your head and tightening his hold on you. You hum softly and nuzzle into his chest.

"I am sorry," he says, fingertips drawing nonsense patterns on your back. You glance up to meet his gaze, and he pushes some of your hair out of your eyes. "I'm truly sorry I hurt you, my love. I didn't mean to."

You give him a tender smile, "Thank you, Star," you kiss the chest just above his heart and whisper, lips brushing against his skin. "I love you."

"And I love you."

Next Day: You giggle over your glass of juice, watching a very disgruntled Astarion from across the room. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes were sharp. His bare forearms crossed over his chest. He was slouched down in his chair, looking like he would rather be anywhere else than in his current situation.

Gale was sitting in front of the vampire, a dusty tome placed on the table between him. You could barely hear the wizard's words as he vainly tried to teach Astarion a simple silencing spell. Gale was trying to help, given the very vocal display Astarion gave last night. And you couldn’t be more pleased at Astarion’s predicament.

Astarion's ears twitch and his head snap in your direction to give you a pointed glare. He's only given more of your laughter in response.

Fine I'll admit it, I like a needy Astarion, sue me. But you got to agree that drunk Astarion would be a fucking menace.

Anyways let me know what ya thought. Talking with you guys is a highlight of my day.

Taglist: @heartfully10 @ayselluna @marina-and-the-memes @anixson @canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr

Want to be added? DM me.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #reader insert #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #bg3 #fanfic #writing #frantic fiction

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dr3c0mix · 1 year

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I need more jock x reader with reader having a big attitude and shows big disinterest in Brandon🥰

Jock x Gn Reader pt. 3

there was also an anon who requested reader topping Brandon so ill add it in as well :3

🏈 You've been tutoring Brandon for a few weeks now. Even after he passed that english test, he insisted you'd tutor him even in other subjects.

🏈 Of course you didn't care because you never wanted to tutor him in the first place.

🏈 No matter how clear your explanations are, he never got it until an hour of guiding him step by step, it was terribly draining to you and the alone time you were supposed to spend instead of teaching a dumb jock like him what 2+2 was.

🏈 Despite you thinking he's all muscle and no brains, Brandon's pretty smart, he gotta keep his grades up for football somehow, but the more time he spent playing dumb, the more time he spent with you, zoning out of your cute face that gets upset when you notice him staring at you googly-eyed, snapping your fingers at him to wake him up.

🏈 He won't say it out loud, but he relished the thought of your annoyed face, it awoken a part of him that he didn't even know existed.

🏈 Brandon would spot you amongst the crowd during break periods and if he tried to tease you or mess with you, you'd give him a sharp glare, sometimes grabbing his wrist or arm to stop him from wrapping an arm around you or playing with your hair.

🏈 It aroused encouraged him honestly.

🏈 His friends would notice him talking and hanging out with you more often and would ask him about you, Brandon confessing his slight big crush on you.

🏈 They'd coach him, telling him sweet poems to write, pickup lines, gifts, gestures to make you notice him, even his friends' girlfriends would tell him things they felt would work with you.

🏈 He had a few tricks he used on girls to get with them, but they never worked with you, so he might as well try.

🏈 He'd try to impress you, lifting weights, working out, all to get your attention. A compliment, a glance, even a scoff over how much he's trying, please notice him!!!

🏈 You rarely did, but whenever you do, you'd go out of your way to push him off his high horse, lunches bought for you were repaid with you teasingly treating him to food, even feeding him which flustered him to no end.

🏈 Cheesy flirts were deflected towards him whenever you gave him little touches and the like. You made him feel so small, so inferior...he loved it.

🏈 You'd walk in the room, and he'd be in a strange pose looking at you come in, his head resting in his hand as he spread himself on your couch.

🏈 "Is it just me or did it just get hotter in here?"

🏈 But you paid no mind, in fact, you leaned over him, your hands supporting you on both sides of him evidently trapping him as his face goes red by you glaring at him. "Uh-uhm...wow, now it's actually getting hot in here..whew!"

🏈 You hated it, but his little moves started growing in you, eventually earning smiles and giggles from you as you hid your face from him, but you always scoffed and shoved him away afterwards.

🏈 But that changed when you heard from one of your friends that he turned down a girl who wanted to sleep with him. He'd never do that! Unless he already has someone in mind...oh no..

🏈 You tried your best to avoid him that day but of course he found you, he was about to spew out another pickup line when you grabbed him by his letterman jacket's collar and slammed him into the lockers, pinning him.

🏈 You asked if all along his flirting and gifts were all a ploy to get you to fuck him through seething teeth.

🏈 His sweat dropped as you pinned him, his face getting redder by the second.

🏈 He gets shy all of a sudden, looking down like a sad puppy, pulling at your heart. You sigh as you let go of him, walking away from him.

🏈 "One chance, my house." You say as you leave him there with his hand on the parts of his neck that got red from you grabbing his collar.

🏈 When he saw you leave, he pumped his fists in the air and ran to tell his friends you asked him out.

🏈 He drove to your house in the best clothes he had without making him seem desperate. He knocked on the door and you let him in. He's been to your house many times but never because of another reason than tutoring, this seemed more intimate to him somehow.

🏈 You sat him down and you two talked, if he really liked you, if he really wanted to be with you, if he really liked you not just for a one-night stand.

🏈 "Y-you really thought that?...Sorry it's just- I'm not good at this...actual relationships I mean..I know it sounds bad but-...yeah it is..but I really like you (Y/N)! You're smart and funny and awesome! and really cute..."

🏈 You never saw him so genuine, something in the way he sat so curtly, avoiding eye-contact with you, you knew he wasn't lying.

🏈 Your glare softened and a smile starts appearing on your face. You scoot nearer to him to ruffle his hair before pulling his head towards you for a kiss.

🏈 He melted into the kiss, putting a hand on your cheek, deepening the kiss.

🏈 You suddenly grab a chuck of his hair, pulling his head back. "If I find out this is all a joke, your ass is grass you hear me?"

🏈 b o n e r

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just-aake · 4 months

Text

Chasing Shadows

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A sudden mission on New Year’s Eve brings Natasha face to face with someone from her past.

Warnings: light fluff, light angst

Words: 1410

11:55 P.M.

Surrounded by the lively atmosphere of Times Square, Natasha glances at her watch to check the time before looking around at the excited crowds of people, all waiting for the annual New Year’s Eve Ball Drop to start.

Laughter and cheers fill the air as she withdraws to a more secluded spot, raising her hand to her earpiece to speak through the comms.

“I’m at the location.”

SHIELD had intercepted a suspicious encrypted message a few moments ago, indicating that something was set to happen in the area tonight. Being the only one available nearby in such a short time, Natasha took on the assignment.

After a brief static pause, Maria's voice comes through the comms.

“It’s a shame that this had to interrupt your holiday evening.”

Taking a moment to scan her surroundings, Natasha replies nonchalantly, “I could say the same for you. Besides, it’s fine. It’s not like I had any plans.”

A curious hum comes in response before Maria asks, “No special someone to begin the new year with?”

At her words, the face of someone from years ago unexpectedly crosses Natasha’s mind, accompanied by flickers of memories recounting moments filled with late-night escapades and adrenaline-filled touches.

One particular memory stands out–of a night similar to tonight, atop a rooftop, shielded from prying eyes.

Two people shared a rare moment of vulnerability, and against her better judgment, she wished life had played out differently for them—an unrealistic hope.

11:56 P.M.

“No,” Natasha replies to Maria’s question as she pushes away those thoughts and refocuses her attention back on the crowd.

Amidst all the joyous people, Natasha finally spots the individual they were seeking—a slippery criminal with a history of working for a notorious crime family that once controlled these streets.

The members of that family were taken down and arrested by an undercover SHIELD operation years ago, leading many of their associates to either scatter or continue their own shady activities in the city.

This particular individual belongs to the latter group and has proven to be very elusive, successfully evading capture from SHIELD multiple times.

“I’ve got eyes on the suspect.”

As she utters these words, the man locks eyes directly with her, as though she is the intended target instead.

Discreetly, he reaches into his coat, revealing a mysterious device with an ominous, glowing red button at its center. He briefly flashes it at her before tucking it away and swiftly turning around to disappear into the crowds.

11:57 P.M.

Immediately, Natasha gives chase, her eyes fixed on the suspect darting through the masses of people. With adept skill, she effortlessly maneuvers through the crowds, rapidly closing the distance.

As the suspect pushes through the final layers of people, Natasha spots another figure emerging from the shadows toward the suspect.

In a swift and seamless exchange, the mysterious device changes hands from the original suspect to the newcomer.

Natasha’s eyes narrow suspiciously at the action when suddenly, the two figures split off in opposite directions, causing her to realize what that means.

Either she continues chasing the elusive criminal they've sought for so long, or she goes after the person now in possession of the unknown device, which may pose a potential threat to everyone in the area.

Without missing a beat, Natasha alters her course to pursue the newcomer. Surging forward, she vaults over one of the crowd barriers, tackling the figure mid-stride, and sending them both crashing to the ground.

The impact elicits gasps of shock from the few people nearby as Natasha swiftly recovers, pinning the suspect to the pavement.

The newcomer wears a mask over their eyes, concealing their identity from anybody who looks at them.

Not from her though.

Natasha is taken aback as her lips part in surprise. She easily recognizes those particular sets of eyes, especially when accompanied by the knowing smirk forming on their face in response to her reaction.

11:58 P.M.

Natasha is still rattled by the revelation of the figure before her, allowing them to seize the opportunity to escape from their pinned position, forcefully knocking the Black Widow aside before swiftly resuming their sprint.

Partially recovering from the shock, Natasha's instincts kick in, and she rushes to pursue, her mind still grappling with disbelief.

It can't be. That thought repeats in Natasha’s mind as she follows the figure into a condemned building site.

She recognizes the structure immediately, both from that particular memory of the past as well as its status as an old building that fell victim to one of the Avengers' numerous battles.

Natasha enters the ruined building through the recently shut side door, finding herself in the emergency stairway that miraculously remains intact.

Glancing up, she spots the suspect running up the stairs, quickly ascending to the higher levels of the building.

11:59 P.M.

The anticipated event unfolds outside as the ball at the top of the Times building starts its descent, marking the last minute of the year.

Amidst the beginning of the countdown chorus from the crowds outside, Natasha also starts running up the stairs.

The echoing footsteps of the other person above her drive her to accelerate to catch up, sprinting up the stairs two at a time.

11:59:30 P.M.

Natasha’s heart beats painfully in her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s from adrenaline or from the overwhelming sight of seeing you again—maybe it’s both.

After all, you’ve always had that effect on her.

“Three!” - 11:59:57 P.M.

Bursting through the roof door, Natasha slides to a sudden stop at the edge of the dilapidated floor. Dust rises at her movement, and small rocks roll and tumble over the edge, falling into the gaping hole.

“Two!” - 11:59:58 P.M.

On the opposite side of the large chasm, balancing precariously on the rooftop edge, the suspect stands, hands clasped behind their back, awaiting Natasha's arrival.

“One!” - 11:59:59 P.M.

With her attention now fixed on them, the figure removes the mask covering their eyes with a dramatic flourish, letting it drift off in the wind and fall gracefully towards the cheering crowd below.

12:00 A.M.

The night sky explodes in colorful lights, illuminating your silhouette.

Natasha stands frozen, mesmerized by the sight of you again, with your Cheshire smirk firmly in place as the remnants of the fireworks rain behind you.

It's a perfect reminder of who you are—beautiful yet dangerous.

In one of your hands, you teasingly wave the device with its ominous red glow at Natasha, while your other hand raises to your lips, playfully sending a mock kiss her way.

With a mischievous wink, you suddenly toss the device toward her, the gentle force of your action causing it to barely reach over to her side.

Reacting quickly, she stretches her arm to catch it before it can fall down the hole, pulling herself safely back from the edge once it is in her hand.

Regaining her balance, Natasha's gaze shoots back to you, or where you should've been, but now there's only dust kicked up by the cold wind. Furrowing her brows, she scans her surroundings again but finds no traces of you anywhere.

You've slipped away.

Returning her attention to the device in her hand, Natasha turns it around, removing the back covering.

Now knowing who she is dealing with, she is not surprised when she finds no activation triggers or wiring—just a battery-powered red LED bulb and a piece of paper folded inside.

Natasha raises her hand to her earpiece, activating the comms.

"Hill, the device is a fake. It was all just a wild goose chase."

"And the suspects?"

"Escaped," Natasha replies regretfully, looking back at the empty rooftop space.

"From you? That’s impressive."

Again, Natasha isn't surprised; time in prison clearly hasn't dulled your skills. Though, now, she needs to consider the implications of your unexpected and sudden return to the city.

"Can you check something for me?" Natasha asks into the earpiece.

"Sure, what is it?"

"The confinement statuses of all the members of the L/n family."

Maria lowly whistles before commenting, "Haven’t heard that name in a while. Isn’t that the crime family that you took down during your first solo undercover mission?"

12:01 A.M.

Natasha remains silent at that, her eyes fixated on the piece of paper in her hand. The fireworks illuminate your familiar handwriting periodically against the darkness of the night.

Happy New Year, Natasha Let’s play again soon 🤍

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Thank you for reading, and an additional special thanks for all who have read any of my other writings this year. I really appreciated all the likes, reblogs, and comments that you have given me (many of you are so sweet and kind for reading most or almost all of the things I wrote). Thank you again, and I hope you all have a happy New Years!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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daizymax · 1 year

Text

be that guy | bc (m)

summary: running into you at a club months after the breakup could just be a stroke of pure, dumb luck. or maybe it's the push he needs to try and reconcile with you. whatever happens, chan is up for anything you want tonight.

pairing: bang chan x fem reader

genre: angst, smut

word count: 7k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: ex-boyfriend!chan; profanity; alcohol consumption; graphic sexual content; some angst-y/emotional moments in the smut; pet names; dirty talk including some degradation and praising; vaginal fingering; mentions of squirting; breast & nipple play; clothed sex; protected sex; oral (f receiving); finger sucking; some hair pulling; multiple orgasms; aftercare; no definitive ending oops

author's note: i started to take a fic from my old blog and just rewrite chan into it, but i ended up only keeping the base premise of two exes hooking up again and rewriting the entire thing from scratch. it turned into this. hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

“Isn’t that Y/N?”

Chan’s head snaps in the direction Minho nods, and his heart skips a beat when he sees you. When did you get here? How could he have possibly missed you? There might as well be a spotlight shining down for the way his attention locks onto you now.

“She looks great,” Minho goes on, lips on the rim of his vodka soda.

Of all the people to run into tonight.

Of all the fucking people.

He sounds accusatory, but Chan has to know: “Did you know she was going to be here?”

Minho shakes his head innocently. He’s right, though. You look great. As gorgeous as ever. The smile on your face is large and radiant, but deep down, Chan knows it will drop like a lead balloon if you spot him.

And of course you do. Of course you fucking do.

One minute you’re laughing with your friend; the next minute, it’s as if you can sense his heavy stare halfway across the club. Your eyebrows tighten and you turn your head to look straight at him.

The spark is instant, the same as the very first time he saw you years ago. A smile blooms across his face before he even knows it’s happening - it’s just an automatic reaction to you. Subconsciously, he’s still happy to see you.

But then reality comes crashing down, and he remembers he’s not living in that wonderful world where you smile back at him every day anymore. He’s living in the aftermath of breaking your heart. So he waits for your lip to curl in disgust, or for you to roll your eyes and look away, but you do neither. He can’t read your expression, but at least you maintain eye contact with him.

Minho looks to Chan as well, then pats him on the shoulder. He doesn’t have to say anything; his support is felt all the same.

Chan downs the rest of his whiskey, takes a deep breath, and starts pushing through the crowd. By the time he reaches you at the bar, your friend is gone.

“I didn’t mean to scare your friend off,” he says, then winces internally. His first words to you in months and he couldn’t start with a simple ‘hello’ or an honest ‘you look amazing’? Or perhaps a heartfelt ‘I’m sorry’ down on his knees would have been the most appropriate greeting. What the fuck is wrong with him?

A smile returns to your lips, tiny this time. “You give yourself too much credit. I told her to give me a few minutes.”

A few minutes is probably more than he deserves. He has to make the most of them. No more stupid statements.

“I’m-” he starts, but the rest of his words are suffocated. He gulps through the sudden tightness in his throat and tries again. “You’re- You look… so beautiful, Y/N.”

You tilt your head in a gesture he can’t decipher and set your empty glass down on the bar counter.

“Chan…”

When you look at him again, his eyes lock back onto yours. It’s clear you’re also struggling to find words. It’s been months of heartbreak between now and the last time you saw each other, but before that, there were years of laughs, sweet words, daily routines, and gentle touches. He wonders if you’re remembering those times right now, too.

You purse your lips and reach out for his bicep. He unconsciously flexes it under your touch.

“You look great, too.”

“Th-thank you.”

“Want to get out of here?”

---

Getting into his apartment is a messy affair of feet stumbling over each other’s, hands tangled in hair, and lips and teeth clashing repeatedly.

Chan has half a mind to tear your dress apart at the seams to get it off your body, but that train of thought is entirely derailed when you reach beneath it yourself to slip your panties off. When the skimpy fabric drops to your feet, you sling it across his kitchen floor with the toe of your shoe.

He helps you up onto the counter, then slips his hand between your legs to check how wet you are. Surprisingly, your outer lips feel pretty soaked already, but he’s not going to rush to stick his dick inside you and risk hurting you. You seem eager enough to take him right now, but he wants you properly prepped.

If this is truly the last time he gets to be with you like this, he wants everything to go perfectly.

Your walls immediately clamp around the finger he pushes through them. You’re so fucking warm and silky inside, he just has to add another finger right away. You gasp as the intrusion thickens, lips falling apart ever so slightly. Chan slots his mouth over yours to catch the incoming moan. You taste like sugary cocktails. You smell delicious. You sound so fucking horny.

His wrist flexes as he searches for that spot he mapped out inside you long ago. He’s going straight for it because he has no intention of teasing you to an orgasm tonight. He wants you to come just as many times as you want tonight. Anything you want tonight, he’ll do it for you.

G-spot easily located, he rubs fast against it. You’re starting to drip all over his hand and down to the counter below, but he’s not upset about the sticky mess; he’s hard beyond belief over it. His zipper is scraping against his dick, but he ignores the discomfort. It’s tolerable when you’re moaning between his lips like this.

“Chan, please,” you whimper, finally speaking.

He pauses a moment because it’s been a while since he’s done this and his hand is already cramping. It would be a grave mistake to stop like this if you were close to coming, but he still has some time for now.

“I know, Y/N, I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your lips, withdrawing his tongue from your mouth only long enough to get the words out.

He stretches his thumb to flick it across your swollen clit. Your knees twitch at the contact, closing inward for a split second before opening wider, your dress riding higher up your thighs with the motion.

The way you’re giving him such open access to your body is making Chan’s head spin. Maybe his whole world has been turned upside down tonight. The feeling of your cunt around his fingers is keeping him grounded in the lewdest possible way.

He should be grateful to have this much, but he wants to get greedy and pull your tits out over the top of your dress so he can nip and suck on your nipples. The entire garment would probably have to come off first, though, and he’s not about to ruin your current positions to do that yet. Maybe he can give your breasts some due attention during round two. God he hopes you’ll stay for round two.

You’re barely focused on kissing him back anymore, too caught up with your imminent climax. Chan pulls his face away from yours to examine the state of you: shivering, spread open, starting to sweat, panting.

You’re gorgeous, and tonight, he’s all yours again.

“Chan,” you breathe again, hips bucking off the counter, bare skin squeaking on the surface. “Please keep going- fuck…”

“I’m not stopping ‘til you come on my fingers, angel,” he promises. The old pet name slips out before he knows it.

You must really be lost in your pleasure because you don’t call him on it and remind him he lost his right to call you that or any pet name anymore.

Tossing your head back, you moan, “More, please… f-faster…”

He wouldn’t dream of denying you, so he leans in and releases a ball of spit onto your clit. It quickly seeps down around his thumb, over your slit and over the fingers he has inside you, making his work more slippery. He wants you nice and wet and fucked open for his cock, so he drives his fingers faster, just as you asked.

It’s difficult to keep his thumb rotating in steady circles, so he vibrates it back and forth as best he can instead. He’s sure it will work - it has before, at least. He just has to keep his pace consistent. Keep the pressure just right. Maybe you’ll even squirt for him and really soak his hand, for old times’ sake.

Even if he couldn’t feel your pussy constricting tighter and tighter, the way you suddenly grab his flexing wrist is another telltale sign that you’re close to the edge. Your head is still tipped backward, throat exposed and gleaming with sweat.

Chan braces his unoccupied hand against your back, then leans forward and licks a stripe up the column of your neck. The taste of your sweat and the perfume you applied is an addicting mix of salty and sweet on his tongue.

“Oh fuck!” you cry out. “Right there, right there… so fucking close…shit, shit!”

“I know, I know, I can feel it,” he whispers, trailing his words up from your neck and into your ear. He licks the shell of it with the tip of his tongue, and you shiver in his arms. “Let go for me.”

Not only does your pussy close in tighter, but your fingers on his wrist do, too. Your chest is heaving, tits still begging him for attention. He finally gives in and bites one of the mounds through your dress. The fabric probably dulls the sensation a little, but he’s still gentle with his teeth.

When you moan louder, he sucks as much of your clothed breast into his mouth as he can. He can just barely feel your nipple raised against the fabric, but it’s still noticeable enough for him to know where to start flicking his tongue. The sensation seems to trigger your orgasm. Or maybe it’s the desperate act itself that does it for you.

“Oh my god, Chan, fuck!”

Your entire body tenses against the intense shockwave that detonates within you, rendering you motionless for just a few seconds before you start trembling hard from the outburst of pleasure.

“Shit, that’s it, Y/N,” Chan coos, drawing back again to take in your orgasm. A string of spit bridges the distance between your dress and his bottom lip. “Holy fuck, you’re coming so hard for me, I love it.”

Chan can barely continue pumping his fingers through your cunt’s vise grip, so he settles for keeping his fingertips kissed against your g-spot, gently easing the pressure as your intense orgasm wanes.

When your knees start wobbling from the overstimulation, he removes his hand from between your slippery walls, and you let go of him, too. His fingers are glistening, a clear testament to how good he just made you feel. Something nasty in him wants to whip his aching cock out right now and slather it in your juices, but his first instinct is to not let the treat go to waste. So instead, he runs his tongue up the length of his sticky middle finger, letting the salty liquid rest on his tastebuds for a few seconds before swallowing it down.

“Jesus fuck,” you pant, watching the erotic scene unfold before your eyes.

Chan smirks, pleased that you’re pleased, and repeats the action with his index finger, a little obsessed with making sure he doesn’t miss a drop. His entire kitchen smells like sex already and he fucking loves it.

More importantly, you look like sex incarnate, propped up on one hand on his counter, still breathless, still spread open. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his entire life - no offense to all your previous escapades together.

“Taste so fucking good,” he rumbles straight from his chest, lying his palms flat on the counter to cage you between his arms. “Missed this sweet pussy so much.”

Is the confession too much? If so, you don’t call him out on that, either. He’s not sure how he’s getting away with crossing all these lines tonight, but he’s not going to question it.

“Want to fuck it?” you ask. The deeply seductive look in your eyes makes him gulp.

“Y-Yeah? You’d let me fuck you?”

“If you have a condom, yes,” you clarify.

Chan nods a little too eagerly, but it’s nothing compared to the way his dick jumps in his jeans. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his ticket to fucking you. Honestly, he didn’t expect to actually use the condom with anyone tonight - least of all you - but now he’s glad he chose to be prepared.

You raise an eyebrow at how he practically conjured one out of thin air, then lean forward and put your hands on his chest to get him to step back a little. Slipping off the counter, you step over to his kitchen table - still in your heels - and bend over it.

Only when you look over your shoulder and jerk your head does Chan fully get the picture.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, hurrying to follow.

You giggle as he fumbles with his belt and pants. The way you shake your ass side-to-side in front of him is probably supposed to entice him, but he loses focus and drops the condom packet.

“Where’s the dirty talking monster who used to fuck me dumb?” you tease, still giggling.

Chan laughs back and scoops the packet off the floor. “Can’t be that guy right now,” he says, shoving his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh. The open air feels cool on the wet tip of his dick. “The beautiful girl bent over my kitchen table kind of makes me lose my fucking mind, you know.”

You hum and bite your lip, eyes cast down to his thick erection. He opens the foil, gives his cock a few quick pumps, rolls the condom onto it.

As he takes another step to position himself close behind you, you turn to face forward. Your hands reach back to help him bunch your dress over your ass, though, and he gets the overwhelming urge to twine his fingers with yours. The moment is soon gone when you bring your hands forward again to brace them on the table.

Eyes down, Chan takes the base of his cock and steers the tip between your legs. He rubs it up and down through your slit a few times until it catches on your opening and pokes in shallowly. Slowly, he pushes in another inch, then two more, then all the way to the hilt until his balls are pressed against you.

“Fuck,” you groan, knuckles tightening around the edge of the table. “Forgot how well you stretch me out.”

He can’t help but feel proud of that. “Big enough for you?”

“Mhm.” Your walls clench tighter, and he figures you did it on purpose. “Hard enough, too. Shit you’re hard.”

“So fucking hard for you,” he agrees, eyes rolling back in his head. His hands roam aimlessly over your ass while he gives you both a moment to adjust.

Evidently he stalls for too long, though, because you take it upon yourself to start moving your ass back and forth in the limited space between his hips and the table.

“Come on, baby,” you say. “If you missed this pussy so much, fucking take it.”

He wants to give you everything when you talk like that, so without another second to spare, he draws his cock back until the tip is at the very edge of your opening, then pushes forward to split your walls around it again.

It’s a blessing and a curse, but he can still remember how incredible your wet heat used to feel around his raw cock, back when the two of you had love and trust. It’s been a very long time since he’s had to wear a condom with you - or anyone, for that matter - but he won’t complain. He’s all too aware he’s lucky to be inside you at all.

Besides, you still feel incredible. Your pussy sucks him back in when he pulls back too far, gives way easily when he sinks in deep. The more he pumps himself in and out at this slow, steady pace, the harder he finds it to hold back.

Luckily, you’re of the same mindset. “Harder, baby. Please.”

Using the pet name again is a sure-fire way to get what you want. He may have been the one to break up with you, but before that, he could probably count the number of times he denied you on one hand. You were always irresistible, especially when you asked him so nicely for things.

Chan snaps his hips harder, driving his cock as deep as he can get it with every stroke. He only pulls back a few inches at a time, keeping most of himself sheathed inside your warmth at all times, not willing to part from you any more than he has to.

“Like this?” he asks.

You nod and pant, “Yes. S-So fucking good, Chan.”

“Just want your tight little pussy pounded, don’t you?” Chan goes on, gripping your hips for leverage. He practically yanks you back into him with his next thrust, and you cry out in sheer ecstasy. “Just want a nice, thick cock to stretch your little hole open real good, huh? Fuck you open good and proper?”

“Fuck, yes, baby, yes, yes! Oh my god, Chan…”

That dirty talking monster you always loved is starting to rear its head, but Chan’s pleasure threshold is rapidly reaching its limit. Between the moans pouring out of your mouth, the wet smacking of his balls against your cunt, and the intense friction rubbing across his length, he comes much sooner than expected.

“Oh god, fuck- shit, angel, holy shit, I’m gonna- mmmf- fffuck!”

His cock pulses hard as streams of cum jet up its length, shot after shot unloading into the condom.

The guilt is instant. Apologies and excuses start tumbling from his mouth. “I’m s-so sorry, Y/N,” he mutters, struggling to catch his breath because cum is still squirting out of him. “I’m- I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to come that fast, you just felt so fucking- I mean, you sounded so-”

“It’s fine, Chan,” you laugh, wiggling your ass again. “Consider me flattered.”

He tilts his head and huffs out a breath of laughter himself, then eases his hips backward to pull his cock out of you before it goes too soft. After he’s thrown away the condom, he turns back to you. Part of him fears to find you pulling your panties back on to leave, but he’s excited to find you facing him with your dress still gathered around your hips.

“I can keep going,” he offers straight away, crossing the distance to put his hands on your bare hips. “Let me go down on you, or- or finger you again. Please.”

Instead of answering him right away, you grin and kiss him. When your tongue pokes across the seam of his lips, he happily grants it entry to lick against his own. You can probably taste the remnants of your arousal in his mouth, but you’re not put off by it. In fact, you wind your arms tight around him.

Pulling your face back, you ask, “You want to make me come again, baby?”

Chan nods, eyes flicking up and down between your eyes and lips. He’s more drunk on the taste of you than the whiskey in the club could have ever hoped to achieve.

“You want to eat me out?” you press, studying his face just as intently. “Stick your fingers back inside my pussy?”

He licks his lips. His wilted cock heaves valiantly but isn’t quite ready to rise again.

“Please. Anything.”

He’s prepared to start begging, but you have mercy on him.

Slipping a hand into one of his, you ask him to take you to the bedroom. You start giggling again when he has to practically waddle his way there with his pants falling around his knees. Chan laughs, too, and starts stripping his clothes.

After he yanks his shirt over his head to toss it on the pile on his floor, he catches you checking him out. He resists the urge to make a trite ‘like what you see?’ joke. He made plenty of those when you were together - he knows you like what you see, and he’s flattered it’s still true.

When you peel your eyes off his chest to look at his face again, you cock an eyebrow and smirk. Then, you spin around and ask him to help unzip you. He does so happily, getting just as much of an eyeful of your body after your dress spills to a heap at your feet. You kick it away just like you’d done with your panties earlier, then off go the heels, one after the other. Once you’re entirely nude, you step wordlessly over to his bed and settle yourself on top of it.

“Come here,” you beckon, voice soft.

Chan obeys, coming over to drape his naked body over yours. You pull him into another kiss, and he tries to keep most of his weight off you, but the feeling of your warm, bare skin against his is something he’s missed desperately.

He tilts his face the other way and moans into your mouth. His hand comes up to cup your cheek at almost the same moment you do the same to him. You’re smiling into the kisses now, and his heart aches with the knowledge that this isn’t a daily occurrence anymore.

“Y/N…” he whispers, but he isn’t sure what he wants to say exactly.

Your smile fades, and he knows you can tell there is something more than lust in his head right now; he can see it in your eyes that you understand him. Even so, you refuse to let your walls down, and he can’t say he blames you. He’s probably the reason they’re there to begin with.

“You’re so fucking hot, Chan,” you say out of the blue, steering the conversation to more comfortable territory. “Touch me again.”

He can’t deny you.

If this is all he’s good for tonight, he’s grateful.

Swallowing hard, Chan slides down your body to bring his face level with your chest. One hand goes to pinch your left nipple, the other to cup your right tit and bring that nipple into his wet mouth. You gasp at the first flick of his tongue, so he repeats the motion about a dozen more times before dragging his face tongue-first across to your other tit. When he bites down on the pebbled bud, your back arches off the bed.

“Oh, god,” you whisper, twisting a hand into his hair.

He reciprocates the gesture by slipping an arm behind your back and holding your skin tight. You’re so warm and soft, so sweet-smelling and beautiful…

Focus. Just make her come, as many times as she wants.

Be that guy again.

Even if it's just for tonight.

Do it just for her.

With his mind refocused and his dick beginning to fill out again, he looks up at your face and mutters, “I’ll give you whatever you want, Y/N.” He goes back to your other nipple, traps it between his teeth and chews it with careful nips, enough for you to feel it, but not cause you any pain. “Want to come on my tongue or my cock?”

“Cock, please,” you answer without hesitation.

He’s surprised with your choice given his poor performance earlier. He’s also surprised by how sweetly you say please this time. So sweet and beautiful, truly worthy of your favorite pet name…

Stop it. Get to it already.

“You sure you don’t want both, angel?”

Not waiting for an answer, he scoots further down your body until he’s faced with your sweet pussy. You’re still soaking wet - he can see your arousal shining all along your folds. Reaching down, he gathers your legs and pushes them up, knees toward your chest.

“Chan,” you whine. He can feel your eyes watching him move his face closer between your hips. “Not your mouth.”

He takes the heady scent of your arousal deep into his lungs with a long inhale.

“Why not? You know I could make you come so hard with my tongue. Suck on your clit real slow, take my time licking you clean, hm? Maybe pump my fingers carefully enough to make you squirt?”

Dipping his face even closer, he glides his tongue up the length of your slit. Your arousal tastes even better when he’s licking it straight from your center, so he flattens his tongue to get a wider lick, greedy to smother his tastebuds in your essence.

Total, there are probably entire days of his life that were spent with his face between your legs, learning your ins and outs, all the things that make you shiver uncontrollably and scream his name. He learned how to get you to come twice in a row, and when to ease off to bring your orgasm to a satisfying finish without building too far into another one.

You gave it all back in kind. So often eager to get on your knees for him, swallowing his entire cock down your throat, heeding his advice when he said you could tug his balls even harder, him trusting you to put your hands on his neck and squeeze just tight enough to peak his climax that little bit higher.

Presently, you writhe against his mattress under the torment of his tongue. He’s still taking his time licking through your folds, swiping half-handedly over your clit, not giving it nearly enough attention to take your next orgasm seriously.

Straightening his back, Chan gazes down at your naked form, once again admiring the sight. You gaze back steadily.

“Still want my cock?” he asks, reaching to take the throbbing appendage in his fist and stroke a few dewy drops of precum out. “Just my cock? You sure?”

You don’t answer him right away. Instead, you push backward out of his hold, get to your knees directly in front of him, and press your palms flat against the wide planes of his chest. He can feel his own heartbeat reverberate from behind his chest plate, off your hand, back to his burning skin.

“You’re not going to make me beg, are you?” you say, not answering him at all.

Chan gulps. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just want to hear you say it again.”

He’s met with a smirk and a gentle nudge from you this time. Only once he’s sitting flat, legs extended in front of him on his mattress with you straddled across his lap, do you speak again.

“Want your cock, baby,” you say, already reaching for his bedside drawer to fish out another condom. It’s open and on him in no time. “Just your cock.”

“It’s yours,” Chan whispers back.

There’s a split second of hesitation as you’re shifting to guide him back inside you. Perhaps the words crossed another line. He meant them, though.

If you’re bothered by his honesty, you don’t voice it.

With a slight drop of your hips, his cockhead slips smoothly back into your wet warmth, then the rest of his thick length, until your lap is pressed flush against his, pelvises locked tight.

Chan walks his fingertips up your spine until his palms come to rest firmly against your shoulder blades. You oblige his body language and lean in closer. Again, you hesitate for a short moment, letting something unspoken and unfinished hang suspended in the small space between your face and his for just a few broken heartbeats before closing the distance.

Gasps on both sides come when you make that first ascent back up his rigid length only to slam right back down. Running his tongue along yours becomes an afterthought to keeping your hips moving against him.

“That’s it, angel,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Ride it- mmph, fuck- ride it just like that.”

“Chan…”

Two of his fingers come to rest against your lips, dip past your teeth.

“Keep fucking me, Y/N. Don’t stop fucking me,” he urges.

Your lips close around his fingers, tongue swirling a little looser than your hips. Once they’re well lubricated with your spit, Chan draws them back to stuff them down below where he’s joined with you. With a little prodding, he finds your engorged clit and gets to work unraveling you again.

However, you seem to have other plans. Smacking his fingers away, your other hand takes his chin.

“I said I want your cock, not your fingers,” you say, the low pitch of your voice insanely sexy.

You take the offending fingers and watch as he watches you bring them back into your mouth to suck on them more earnestly than before. His jaw drops as much as your grip will allow, and his dick twitches hard between your walls.

“Need to make you come. Can’t do it with just my dick,” Chan reasons.

Your movements are already getting the better of him. The way you’re bouncing in his lap is knocking the breath from his lungs, coiling his muscles into springs. But he can’t tip over the edge without you again. He won’t, god damn it.

Hand closed around his wrist, you drag his fingers off your tongue and out of your mouth.

“Can’t you?” you taunt, eyebrow quirked.

You know damn well he can’t. He never could. Sure, he’s been inside you for plenty of your orgasms, but he always had to enlist the help of his fingers or a vibrator to stimulate your clit at the same time. Grinding your clit into his pelvic bone never yielded the same results, and he couldn’t fuck your g-spot for long enough or consistently enough to get you to come that way, either. Not without coming first.

Chan whimpers and fixes you with a helpless stare which you must find amusing because you chuckle.

“Sorry, baby,” you say, not sounding particularly apologetic. “Didn’t mean to hurt your pride.”

A blush bleeds from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest.

“Y/N, please…”

Smiling gently, you stop your bouncing and let go of both his wrist and his face to wind your arms behind his neck. His hands instinctively settle on your waist in turn.

“Feel like I could come just looking at you right now.” Your eyes shake back and forth, looking between each of his. “No one has ever made me come the way you always did.”

He starts to respond to your flattery, but his thought evaporates when you lift all the way off his aching cock then sit back down on one of his thighs, instantly smearing it with your arousal.

“You were always a selfless lover, Chan,” you continue, cupping the nape of his neck in both hands, thumbs resting against his throat. Surely you can feel the spike in his heartbeat. “I adored that about you. You always made my pleasure yours. But I’ve told you, my pleasure doesn’t always involve orgasming. Sometimes I just wanted to see you get lost in your own pleasure. Get a little selfish.”

Chastely, you kiss his cheek, then pull back to fix him in your stare again.

“So fuck me again, baby,” you purr. “And don’t worry if you come fast this time.”

With that invitation extended, you turn over onto your hands and knees.

Chan gravitates to you, getting in position behind you within seconds, hands on your hips to yank them a little higher. You hum in approval of his assertive action and spread your knees a little further apart.

Without warning, he takes his cock - the condom thoroughly coated in your juices - in hand and shoves it back into your cunt, all the way up to his balls.

“Always want you to come when you’re with me,” he rasps, not bothering to use past tense. “Want to show you a good time every time. But if you say that means you want me to get a bit selfish, so be it.”

Grip tight on your body, he draws his hips back until his tip nearly falls from your pussy, then yanks you back onto him as he pushes forward again. He must hit the right spot on the first stroke because your back trembles and bows inward.

“Yes, Chan, fuck! Right there- please-”

He smirks. “God, you really do just want my cock, don’t you, sweetheart? It’s right here.” He drags it back, slots it in deep.

Your fingers tighten in his sheets. “Keep fucking me, baby. And k-keep talking.”

He picks up the pace, abandoning his full strokes in favor of shorter, deeper ones again. “Since you want me to be selfish, does that mean you just want me to use you tonight? Want to pretend you’re just my tight little fleshlight? Huh?”

The dirty-talking monster is yawning back to life. The flesh of your ass ripples against the onslaught of his smacking hips. He’d be driving you face-first up his mattress if he wasn’t pulling you back onto him.

“Yes, fuck,” you moan, pussy closing in ever tighter around his pistoning dick.

Chan swears under his breath and licks his lips, eyes fixed to where his rock hard cock disappears just below the jiggling globes of your ass. He can’t believe you’re letting him use you this way. Talk to you this way. It was only because you trusted him so much that you ever let him do something like this in the first place. Evidently you still do. It’s oddly touching.

He wants to assure you you’re way more to him than just a pretty cock sleeve, even now, in the ‘after’ part of your relationship, but that’s not what the dirty talking monster would say.

Still, he has to know you’ll tell him if he goes too far.

“Want to give me a safe word, Y/N?” Chan asks, reaching out to give your shoulder a tender squeeze.

“Shoelace,” you respond quicker than expected.

He hums in approval over your answer, brings his veiny hand to caress your cheek for a fleeting moment, circles that arm under your tits to lift your back into his chest. His cock is still stuffed tight inside you; the pause in his thrusts is only temporary.

Lips to your ear, he whispers, “Okay, angel. Here you go,” and slams himself hard into your cunt. “Just want to sit here on your knees while I drill my fat cock into you over and over? That’s fine. Want me to call you a fucking slut for it? I’ll do that for you.”

Because I fucking love you.

You whimper and writhe in his arms, face swiveling until your nose brushes across his. He gladly lets you recapture his lips, lets your tongue swarm back into his mouth.

He rebuilds his pace, still opting for quick, short ruts into your pussy to keep himself stuffed as deep as possible. Your panting breaths mingle with his as he works up the pleasure. Before long, you’re moaning too loudly on the end of his pumping dick to focus on kissing him anymore, but that just gives him the opportunity to continue talking.

“Do you like the way I’m f-fucking you?” Chan whispers, deep voice cracking. He drags his hand from below your tits and latches onto one, getting a rough handful. When he pinches your nipple, your body responds instantly. “Like the way I’m touching you? Mmm, I think you do, angel. This pussy is clenching me so goddamn tight. You’re such a good little cock sleeve for me.”

He’s not sure if you can hear everything he’s saying over the loud slaps of his pelvis hitting your backside, but you whine in response, head lolling to the side. His eyes rake from your bare neck down to your sweaty cleavage. He twists your nipple one way, then the other, and moves on to the other one.

“Can’t believe you didn’t want me to eat you out.” Chan trails wet kisses along your shoulder, squeezes your breast tight, keeps fucking up into you. “Would’ve treated this sweet pussy so well. Instead, you want me to be selfish. Want me to come without you. But that’s fine. Toys don’t get to come, anyway. Isn’t that right?”

You hiss when he bites down on your shoulder. Some motion below draws his attention - your hand dipping between your legs. He feels your fingertips brush against his moving shaft, the only inch or so of it pushing in and out. When your fingers move away from his cock but your arm remains in place, he figures you’re playing with your clit instead.

“Tsk, tsk.” He smiles. “So you do want to come.”

You groan but don’t say anything. You've told him what you’ll say if he goes too far with his dirty talk, but the word doesn’t leave your lips.

“That’s fine, angel. You can come whenever you want. Just make sure you squeeze my cock extra tight when you do it.”

One hand still clutching your tit, he hugs his other strong arm around your hips, redistributes his weight on his knees, and goes in even faster. Your body rattles in his hold from how hard and fast he’s pounding you, practically vibrating. The sweat on his chest smears against your back.

The fingers not playing with your clit come up to curl in the hair at the nape of Chan’s neck. “Oh my god, I’m so f-fucking close,” you huff, tugging his hair.

“Already?”

No sooner does your head jerk in a shaky nod than your cunt clamps hard on his dick. Chan gasps, the sensation catching him totally off guard for a second, but when he fully registers what’s happening, he chuckles wickedly. Your tense body twitches and shakes in his hold as your orgasm rips through it. He embraces you tighter to keep you steady.

“Shit, baby, where the fuck did that come from, huh?” he laughs, utterly delighted. “Just love this dick so much, don’t you? Couldn’t help but come on it, could you, you little slut? Does it feel good?”

You hum. Or maybe it’s a grunt. Your voice is pinched and strained when you say, “So so fucking good. Please c-come with me, baby, come with me now…”

“Keep squeezing me and I will, angel. Squeeze my cum out, come on.”

As your orgasm drops off, the pulsing of your pussy weakens, but it’s more than enough to draw out Chan’s own orgasm.

“That’s it- oh fuck, angel, that’s it, please- please, please, fuck-fuck-fuck- ungh!”

Only a few more resounding claps of his hips against your ass before he comes hard, groaning loudly at the moment of his brutal second release. The condom catches shot after shot of the translucent cum his throbbing cock is ejaculating. He can vaguely hear you murmuring sweet nothings, your lips ghosting over his cheek, but his heartbeat is so damn loud in his eardrums, his orgasm feels too fucking good.

As soon as his senses return to him, he pulls his cock from your over-sensitive pussy. Your spent body slumps forward against the mattress, too exhausted to remain upright without the help of his arms.

Chan is off the bed to trash the condom and back at your side in mere seconds, gathering your warm, sweaty body against his as he lies beside you, facing you.

“That was so good, Y/N,” he murmurs, fussing over the hair sticking to your face. Your eyes are a bit glazed. He tries not to panic. “Hey, you did so well, sweet angel. Stay with me, baby, please don’t fall asleep. I’m right here. Look at me.”

He takes your hand and places it on his cheek, and to his relief, it doesn’t slip away; you hold his face with your own strength.

“I’m fine, Chan,” you say, a smile dawning over your entire face, eyes already refocused.

He starts reiterating that you’re not just a cock sleeve to him, not a toy, not a slut, at least not in a negative way, but you giggle and silence him with a kiss.

“I know, baby, I know,” you assure him. Your other arm is trapped somewhere between your bodies and the mattress, but you manage to free it so you can cup his face with both hands. “You did great, too. You were perfect. I felt safe with you, don’t worry. I feel safe.”

It’s been so long since he’s had you in his bed recovering from a round of intense sex, he’s not sure what to do next. The ensuing silence doesn’t feel awkward, though. He lets you gently rake your fingernails across his scalp, and he returns the gentle gesture with slow swipes of his thumb back and forth across your cheek.

Eventually, the tranquil moment is broken when you draw in a deep breath and haul yourself to a sitting position at the foot of his bed.

Chan isn’t sure he can stand a goodbye from you right now, temporary or permanent. The thought that he made a mistake by breaking up with you is blaring in neon lights in his head. If there’s anything he can do to at least convince you to stay the night with him, he will.

And if, in the morning, there’s anything he can do to convince you how much of a fool he was for ending a good thing, he’ll do his damnedest.

Worst case scenario, his life will return to the way it was just a few hours ago.

Best case scenario, he could be on his way to being your boyfriend again.

First, he sits up beside you.

Second, he looks into your eyes.

Finally, he opens his mouth.

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ♡

#bang chan smut #chan smut #christopher bang smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #christopher bang x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #be that guy #daizymax

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miasmaghoul · 7 months

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i know we've seen minute man dew on here before. how does he react to swiss being as rough as he was tonight

Dew knows something's coming.

Swiss has only been getting worse as the tour goes on, and he's learned to anticipate the other ghoul's ferality. It took Swiss sneaking onto his platform and sinking his teeth into his shoulder to really drive that point home, but Dew knows what to expect now. Knows that he needs to be hypervigilant when the stage lights go blue, when first notes of Watcher in the Sky ring out and the crowd starts to shriek.

He knows something's coming, and Dew tries his best not to tense up when Swiss' heavy bootfalls shake his platform. His fingers don't so much as falter on his strings when that broad body molds itself to his back, the wail of his guitar not quite enough to drown out the way Swiss pants wildly in his ear.

He knows something's coming, but he's still somehow unprepared for the large hand that sneaks behind his guitar. His foot goes heavy on his pedal as Swiss gropes at him, a harsh inhale sucking the already damp fabric of his balaclava into his mouth.

Swiss' other hand digs into his hip and Dew spits a curse that no one but he can hear. Swiss snarls in his ear, a possessive, predatory sound that does absolutely nothing to help the immediate tingle that's settling between his legs. Dew burns with it, thrown into immediate flashbacks of that moment on the last leg of the tour. Of Swiss sneaking up behind him and grabbing at his crotch in front of thousands, rubbing a nipple through his uniform and snickering in his ear.

This is so, so much worse.

Dew bites the inside of his cheek, palms sweatier than usual, cheeks so hot behind his mask. He can just barely see Swiss' hand curl into a tight fist behind his guitar, knuckles pressed to Dew's zipper. Swiss mimes a stroking motion that only Dew can see, and he's helpless to do anything but lean back against the solid chest behind him.

What a mistake that is.

He hears the crowd scream in a very distant way, playing purely off of muscle memory while he stares down at Swiss' hand. He knows he's swelling up already, always embarrassingly quick to react to even the slightest stimulation. Swiss fist drags over his pants just enough to feel, and every pass sends a shock through him that pools deep in his gut.

Swiss grinds against him, a firm roll of his hips, and Dew knows he can't watch anymore. Not if he wants to keep his pants unmessed.

Swiss' teeth dig into his shoulder and Dew does the only thing he can think of - grabs his whammy bar and pulls. Lifts his guitar by it, a violent tug that he does every night but has wildly different connotations tonight. Swiss, of course, responds in kind. Screeches in his ear and ruts against his ass. Dew can't help the way his head jerks when he feels Swiss's hand speed up, a familiar motion that goes straight to Dew's rapidly stiffening cock.

It pulses, sits hot against his thigh, and Dew's shoulders roll forward as he drops his guitar back down. For a split second he thinks Swiss isn't going to stop. The thought hits like a punch to the gut, images slamming through his mind of Swiss working him over right here on stage. Fondling him through his pants until he's soaking a wet spot into them for everyone to see. They're all screaming already, and the sudden knot of worry in his gut grows at the thought of how much louder the crowd would get if Swiss chose not to show mercy.

Another, sharper bite to his shoulder has him hissing, and with a firm slap to his ass Swiss is gone. Sauntering back to his own platform with his usual swagger while Dew's head spins. While his cock throbs against his zipper. The whole event only lasted a handful of seconds, something that certainly shouldn't have him so worked up that he leaks into his tight briefs.

And yet.

Worse still, he stays that way for the rest of the show. Has to sneak adjustments between songs, has to hold his guitar close to his body and give it a little hump every now and then. Just enough to take the edge off. He spends entirely too much time on Swiss' side of the stage, earns questioning looks from Rain and Aeon, but Dew couldn't care less. Not when all he can think about is Swiss getting hands on him for real.

The remaining songs pass in a blur, and Dew cannot take his eyes off of Swiss as they trundle backstage before the encore. His fingers won't stop twitching, every inch of him drenched in sweat and his slight chest heaving. Swiss smiles at him with every tooth in his head, gives him a little finger wave, and Dew can't help himself.

He grips the other ghoul by the ascot and yanks like Swiss is a disobedient dog, drags him bodily behind a pair of equipment cases. Swiss is still grinning when Dew shoves him against them, a sweaty hand wrapped around Swiss' throat.

"You motherfucker," he spits, raspy and tight but muffled by his balaclava. "Why the fuck -"

"Bet I can finish you off before we go back on," Swiss interrupts with a wink, reaching out to rub him through his pants. Dew's eyes go wide at the suggestion, and his stomach does a somersault. "C'mon, lemme make a mess outta you."

Swiss squeezes, and Dew's eyes roll back in his head. It's an insane thought. He knows it is. They have less than two minutes before they have to go back on. It's a ridiculous suggestion. Something he shouldn't even consider.

"Do it," he bites out, rocking against Swiss' palm. "Fuckin' make me."

Swiss snickers, tongue flicking over his teeth, but he listens. Wastes no time in tugging Dew's zipper down and pulling him out, in wrapping talented fingers around his slippery length and thumbing over the tip without hesitation. Dew grunts with it, lets his head thump onto Swiss's shoulder while the other ghoul twists his wrist.

"Oh shit," he huffs, little hips twitching in seconds. "Shit, fuck, don't stop, keep - yeah, like that, like that, oh -"

"Better make it quick," Swiss murmurs, entirely too amused. "Sounds like Papa's almost done."

The reminder really isnt necessary. They both know he's not going to last - he's hot all over already, pulsing and leaking over Swiss' thick fingers. Too worked up too care and too sensitive to fight it.

Swiss rubs at his frenulum, his other hand coming up to rub a nipple through his vest, and Dew chokes as memories of the last time Swiss touched him like that slam through his mind. Memories of countless eyes boring into him, of the shriek of a thousand humans bearing witness to him being groped. He pants into Swiss' throat, loud and labored, and Swiss laughs.

"You're thinkin' about them watching, aren't you?"

Dew gurgles as his hips stutter, the hand on Swiss's throat moving to his chest. An effort to keep himself upright while Swiss invades his mind.

"Wishin' we were still out there, wishin' I could milk it outta you under those bright lights?"

Dew shakes his head, tries to spit words of denial, but all that comes out is a harsh whine. Swiss chuckles again, and his grip changes. Closes around his slick tip and works him hard and fast, just the way he'd mimed on stage earlier. Dew grunts, drools into his balaclava as his knees start to shake. The hand on his chest gives him a nice gripe, and Dew feels his balls draw up.

"Make sure alllll those people saw you cream yourself?"

Swiss gives him one last pull, and Dew groans long and low as he does just that. Pulsing in the tight circle of Swiss' fist, knees wobbling as his cock spills his load over those talented fingers. It dribbles down between them, landing in what little space there is between their boots. Swiss coos in his ear while Dew catches his breath, and as a fresh wave of sweat soaks into his compression shirt Dew shivers.

It's all over just as quickly as it started, their Papa's voice fading back into his consciousness as his orgasmic haze dissipates. He's still teasing the crowd about them being done, about to announce the last three songs, and Dew feels himself flush darker than ever. How long had he lasted? Maybe a minute? He doesn't want to think about it. Instead he steps back, shaking out his arms and tucking himself away while he watches Swiss hold up his messy hand.

"Told ya so," he taunts, wiggling his fingers, and Dew rolls his eyes.

"Shut up," he gripes, zipping up and straightening his vest. The crowd's cheers pick up and Dew bounces on the balls of his feet. "You can be a jackass later, we're up again."

"Hang on," Swiss lilts, pushing himself off the cases and closes the short distance between them. "I still gotta clean up."

Dew raises an eyebrow behind his mask, and before he can do anything else Swiss is pulling down his balaclava.

"Swiss, what -"

Swiss leans in and pecks him on the mouth, and then the other ghoul is stretching it just enough to wipe his sticky fingers off on the inside of it. Right over the drool-soaked portion that they both know will sit right over Dew's mouth. He offers a positively vulpine smile as he tugs the thing back up, and Dew sputters.

"Now we can go," Swiss tells him, grabbing Dew by the elbow and bullying him back towards the others before he can argue. He opens his mouth to try, and all it does is make him taste himself. Fills his nose and mouth with salt and sex, and every bit of it goes right to his spent cock.

"You motherfucker," Dew says again, and Swiss gives his ass another smack.

"Don't be too greedy, firecracker," he murmurs as they move to join the others, "I wanna taste that on you tonight."

#miasma's work #the band ghost ficlets #dewdrop ghoul #swiss ghoul #swiss/dew #swiss x dew #swissdew #i love that this incident has us all in a chokehold #also ignore the sudden ending i had to stop before i went on forever lmao #not rereading before posting so if you see mistakes #no you dont

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pandorasfavorite · 2 months

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can u do a dom x fem!reader and basically shes an interviewer at wwe and dating dom and decided to try the pheromone perfume thing on him and it drives him wild and then smut 🤭

Perfume is Powerful

I'm clawing at the walls writing this.... and were pretending baby boy is in his Champion era.

You and Dominik have been dating for close to a year but no one knows. There have been rumors, but of course, there was no concrete evidence, you guys were careful. You hate to be a woman who is displeased by her boyfriend... the sex is great every time without fail. But part of you longs for something more feverish, quick, risky. Anytime yall fuck it's passionate and in bed, you want that movie type of sex. The kind that makes you throw your head back and have your mouth muffled by his big hands while he plows into you. Truly when Dominik steps into work he is instantly into character, but regardless his character is still in love with you....

You are dressed up in a business casual type outfit, a skirt that was a bit shorter than normal, that the cameras couldn't see. But your shirt was skimpy, covered by a coat that would conceal you during the interview. What brought the whole thing was the new perfume you bought, all the reviews say it makes their boyfriends go crazy, so you had to try it out. You roll the perfume onto the sides of your neck, your wrists, and just a bit on the insides of your thighs...just in case.

Dominik has yet to come to the interview but all the cameras were set up when it goes live. Dominik couldn't be around you before the interview otherwise his character wouldn't be as pronounced, and it would be too obvious. He walks in with that usual swagger his face etched with a frown, that mean look always gave you goosebumps in the best way. You couldn't help but smile and Dominik was holding back, his lip just barely quirked up at the sight of you before he suppressed it. The directors told you both it was time. You and Dominik stood nearly shoulder to shoulder facing the camera. "3...2...1...were live!" the director yelled.

You smile directly at the camera to start your introduction, "I'm joined by NXT champion Dominik Mysterio, who got a front row seat to his opponents match for tonight, that his father set up. How are you feeling going in?", you turn to ask him and immediately you are struck. Dominik looks bent out of shape all of the sudden, his jaw is tight as if it was wired shut and his fist is clenched to his side. He shakes his head and coughs trying to play it off, "Well, my back hurts from carrying this company on my back for past almost two years now. I already beat Dragon Lee twice with my dad in his corner". Dominik speaks to the camera but its clear to you that his mind is elsewhere, his hand is twitching at its side now...towards you.

You smile at his cocky response moving on to one more question with your own twist, "Standing here with Mr. 'Dirty' Dominik Mysterio has been a great pleasure, we have one more question for you.".

Dominik swallows and you noticed he has started to sweat, pulling at his shirt to get some air. "Yea".

Your directors nodded at you, they knew of this news, but Dominik is just now finding out on live television. "What is your advice for a new wrestler such as myself?", the roars of the crowd were booming loud enough for the cameras to pick up on. Dominik's eyes went comedically wide and he nearly dropped his belt right off his shoulder. He breathes shallowly, he gathers his bearing just enough to say, "You don't need any advice". This means Dominik had complete confidence in your abilities. You turn your attention back to the camera and you smile. The crew instantly packed up their things and rushed out of the room in a matter of 30 seconds, on their way to other segments.

The door clicks shut and you hear Dominik's belt smack on the ground. He unbuckles his belt, ripping it off of his body and he rushes towards you. His large hands grasp and squeeze your waist, his nose nustling into your neck, and then you hear a loud muffled moan. His mouth is open sucking on your neck while he takes deep breaths, inhaling the natural smell the perfume brought out. Your fingers run through his hair, and you giggle at his reaction, "You okay baby?".

Dominik thrusts your body against him, with no space left for yourself. "You smell good", he says in an uncharacteristic deep voice, your eyes light up. You kiss his cheek, "Don't I always?".

"This is different, mierda mami. You're driving me crazy", in a second you feel his teeth scrape across your collar bone. His hands work at the buttons of your skirt pulling it down till it falls to the floor. He tosses his shirt of quickly and sinks to his knees to connect his lips to the soft of your legs. You spread your legs just enough for Dominik to get between them and the moment he does the groans at the same smell, his hand falling from your leg to his cock. He lays his forehead on one of your legs and his eyes are squeezed shut, you rub his head trying to see what's going on. "Dominik? What's wrong?", your voice is overflowing with concern, you didn't think he'd react this strongly. "I think I'm gonna cum", he sputters out, his fingers leaving red marks on your thighs. You can't control the gasp that flies out of your mouth, you knew that was going to be burned into your mind for a year... maybe two.

You sink to your knees in front of him, your hands cradling his face now... not that it helped considering you put it on your wrists as well. "Do you need a minute?", you ask so sweetly. He answers with a deep inhale, nearly tilting his head back at the pleasure you bring to him just by your natural pheromones. God the way he was acting you didn't need any prep, he could slide right in. "I need it now hermosa, tell me you can take it, tell me mami", he looks up at you with wide, glossy, dilated eyes that take your breath away. "I can take it", you whisper to him trying to diffuse some of the tension he is feeling.

His face splits into a major grin and he pushes your thighs apart so he can get in between them. In that moment he gets close to you, only to push you back by the chest, a hand behind your head when it hits the floor. You lay on your back, your feet flat on the floor and your legs spread. Dominik pulled off your coat but simply unbuckled your bra from under the shirt, tossing it off to the side. His patience was wearing thin, he pulled your shirt just above your boobs and his hands instantly go to touch them. His mouth follows and the closer he gets to the smell of you he can feel himself lose control over again. Another groan of pleasure and a bit of pain from denial brings him back to his twitching cock. "I can't be easy, I have to fuck you-tell me-", you sit up on your elbows for just a moment to look at him. "Fuck me", you say with absolute certainty.

He follows your instruction, pulling out his cock quickly and pushing into you with one fluid motion, the girth stretching you in the most pleasurable way. Your mouth falls open with a moan/whimper. "I know mami, it's going to feel so good in just a second", he says like a promise, though he was feeling as if he was going to cum on the spot. You tug at his hair, your wrist right by his face, the smell driving him to a frenzy, he thrusts into you at a relentless pace. The sounds of his hips smacking against your ass was loud enough to echo, your moans come out loud and high-pitched... too loud. Dominik think the sounds from your mouth are the hottest thing he's ever heard but you both cant risk getting caught. His hand clasps over your mouth, his hair dangling in front of him, his hips working rhythmically, his body looking like a Greek god. He slows down and goes deep inside of you, groaning as you moan, "I'll give you some advice if you want to walk- don't wear this shit. My cock was hard the moment I got close to you", he rasped into your ear.

The sensation felt so good, his deep thrusts hitting the spot inside of you that only he could reach. Every roll and rock of his hips made your walls clench around him and you felt it coming before you even realized it. Your head just barely tilted back and your back arched, Dominik knew what was coming just by that. He pressed you back down harshly, pressing down on your stomach just to the point you could feel that pressure. "Cum. You know you go first", he grits out feeling himself getting close too. As you cum your pussy convulsed around Dominik's cock and the pleasure was astronomical for him. The wet slick and almost painful tightness brought him over the edge moments after you. He cums with a groan, his face falling into the side of your neck.

He inhales and pulls back with a groan, his face made as he glares at you. "You still smell so fucking good. I just came mami-", now he sounds like he's whining at the effect you have on him.

#dominik smut #dom smut #dominik mysterio smut #dominik mysterio x reader smut #dominik mysterio x you smut #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik my bbg #dominik mysterio fluff #dom dom #dominik mysterio x you #dominik mysterio fanfiction #wwe #monday night raw #the judgement day #the judgment day wwe

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lanadelnegan · 8 months

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Ok ! Soulmate au for The one the only JDM

The hot and cold game you feel hot when you are close to them and clod when your car away from them so imagine the reader and JDM always feeling cold until one day when he is doing a convention/panel and for the first time ever he feels warm same with the reader she needs to stand up to ask him a question……and everything falls into place

Love at First Sight

Jeffrey Dean Morgan x Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, NSFW, assume Jeffrey is single, p in v, sexual tension, flirty texting with jdm, sex in his car, poorly written smut

"Are we pissing our pants yet?" I watch him walk out onto the stage with Lucille resting on his shoulder as he arrogantly chews his gum.

The sight of him in person lights my skin on fire and I feel like the walls around me could burst into flames.

I push my sleeves up a little, regretting my decision to wear a sweater even though it's the middle of December. I'm always cold, so I thought I'd play it safe and bundle up. Clearly that's not working out for me. I subtly wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand before wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans.

"Boy do I have a feeling we're getting close." His voice distracts me from my overthinking and I look up at him again. That signature "Jeffrey" smile stretches across his handsome face as women around me scream at the top of their lungs.

Should've worn earmuffs too, I might be deaf after this.

When he finally sits down, his eyes scan the crowd and I restrain myself from joining in with the screaming, keeping my cool and not wanting to draw attention to myself.. yet.

I study him closely for the next few minutes.. watching his body language and the way he fidgets with his hands on the table in front of him. The way his Adam's apple moves up and down when he gulps his water... The way he stares at the floor like he's on another planet when his costars are talking.

I wonder what he's thinking about.

All of a sudden, his eyes dart up, immediately colliding with mine. His expression doesn't change as he stares at me with unreadable hazel eyes.

When he realizes I'm not going to be the first one to look away, his serious face slowly turns into a knowing grin before he winks at me.

My face reddens and I subtly glance around to make sure he's looking at me and not someone else.

When I look back at him, he softly shakes his head before tipping it towards me. "You." He mouths silently.

My jaw drops faintly before I compose myself, bringing it back up into a smile before biting my bottom lip embarrassingly. My head drops, watching my sweaty hands fidget in my lap.

"Alright, next question." The host announces.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I raise my hand. Another employee hands me a mic and I stand up nervously, locking eyes with Jeff again to find that he's watching me curiously. He's casually leaned back in his chair with his hands resting on his stomach as he tilts his head at me with amusement.

I look down at my feet and try to breathe. "Um, my question is.. for.. Norman." I change my mind at the last minute, not having the nerve to ask Jeffrey what I had planned. My eyes roam up, finding Norman's. "What do you and Jeffrey like to do together when you hang out off set?"

Norman's smile widens as he looks to Jeffrey. "Should we tell her, man?" The crowd laughs at Norman's teasing before he looks back at me. "We make out." He says with a serious expression. Everyone laughs again before he answers my question seriously this time. "Nah, um.. we ride our bikes. Talk about hot chicks. Watch baseball." He pauses, still thinking.

"Then we make out." Jeffrey chimes in and the crowd bursts into laughter. He smiles proudly at himself as he stares at me.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" Jeffrey asks, reverting my attention back to him.

"Y/n." I say into the mic.

"Y/n." He repeats. "Pretty name. Any more questions for us?"

Here it goes. "Um, yes. Actually, one for you."

He raises his eyebrows playfully at me. "Let's hear it."

I look around nervously and try to mentally prepare myself for the embarrassment I'm about to put myself through.

"Y/n, look at me." He demands and I turn my attention towards him again. "Just me and you right now. Ask me."

He stares at me like we're actually the only ones in the room and my legs grow weak.

"Um.. can I.. can I take you out?" I bite my lip and try not to cringe at myself, bracing myself for rejection. But, the worst thing he can do is say no.

Wrong - the worst thing he can do is humiliate you in front of a room of people and crush your hopes and dreams.

I try my best to push the thought out of my head as I wait for his answer.

"Wow, I love the confidence." He grins. "But, no, you can't take me out."

My heart drops and I feel like I'm gonna puke.

"I'll be the one taking you out." He clarifies and my heart drops again, this time with excitement. "Come here, sweetheart."

My eyes widen and I can't believe this is actually happening right now. I walk to the front of the stage and he meets me at the edge before smoothly hopping down.

Good god, he's even taller in person.

He smirks down at me, pulling his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it, and handing it to me with a dial screen pulled up.

My fingers shake as I type my number in and hand it back to him. He hugs me tightly as the crowd woos and screams.

"Don't be nervous. You are adorable." He whispers in my ear, sending chills throughout me before we both make our way to our seats.

Andy is in the middle of answering a question when my phone vibrates softly in my lap. I pick it up and see a text from an unsaved number. I click on it and my heart somersaults in my chest at the words on my screen.

Don't look at Andy. Look at me.

I look up and find Jeffrey smiling and gazing up at me through his eyebrows. My lips twist into a smirk before replying.

Maybe I'm a Rick girl.

I try not to laugh at myself as I look back up at him. He reads my text under the table before glaring at me teasingly, squinting his eyes. My phone vibrates again.

I could change that.

I silently giggle but when I don't respond, a few minutes go by before he sends me another.

Have we met somewhere before?

No. Why?

Feels like I know you from somewhere. Hmm. Maybe from your dreams. ;)

Oh you'll definitely be in my dreams now, doll.

My heart flutters and we spend the rest of the panel flirting and eye fucking each other from across the room. When the host announces that the time is up, my phone vibrates again.

Where are you staying? I'll pick you up at 8pm.

I smile giddily as I type out the address of the hotel I'm staying in. I drove two hours from home just to come ask that man a question, and holy shit was it worth it.

7:55pm...

Maybe this was a stupid idea.

I hyperventilate in front of the bathroom mirror for a good 5 minutes before I force myself to get it the fuck together.

This is what you wanted. I remind myself, taking a mini shot of alcohol to ease my nerves.

I smooth my silky blue dress down my body and apply some lip gloss before a my phone buzzes on the counter.

You ready, beautiful?

Jeffrey Dean Morgan thinks I’m beautiful.

My heart hammers in my chest as I grab my jacket and not-so-calmly rush to the elevator. I expect him to be waiting in his car for me out front, but when the elevator doors open, I’m stunned to see him standing in the lobby, holding a bouquet of red roses.

He looks up and grins from ear to ear when he sees me. My heels click against the floor as I make my way over to him, checking him out in the process. His dark grey slacks outline him perfectly and I restrain myself from staring too long, letting my eyes roam upwards towards the peppery chest hair peeking through his silky black button down. His sleeves are rolled up a few inches and his hair is perfectly gelled in place. He looks stunning.

When I finally approach him, he hands me the roses and I smile giddily.

“Wow, a true romantic.” I pretend to fake cry and he laughs, rolling his eyes. I think I even see see a little redness in his cheeks.

“These are lovely.” I thank him seriously now and he nods his head once before letting his eyes roam over me.

“You look.. absolutely incredible.”

I blush at his words as he holds his arm out for me to hold onto it. Such a gentleman. My arm slips into his as he leads me towards his black mustang parked right out front. He opens the door and I carefully slide in, shivering from the cold. The entire interior is a leather brick red and it smells like faint cigarettes and strong, expensive cologne.

When he gets in on the other side, he takes my roses and places them in the backseat before turning to face me. I take my jacket off and place it next to them, feeling warm all of a sudden.

“Hi.” He says, smiling at me playfully.

“Hi.” I giggle and my hands hide between my exposed legs. I don’t miss the way his eyes flash towards my thighs as I shift in the seat.

“You are so fucking cute." He reaches his hand out and laces his fingers through mine as we drive off.

"So.. where are we going?"

"Can't ruin the surprise, doll?"

I shrug. "I don't like surprises."

He glances at me with a smirk tugging at his mouth. "I think you'll like this one." His hand squeezes lightly around my thigh.

My legs barely part at the sensation and I look at Jeffrey, noticing the way his jaw ticks when he glances at my thighs.

"So why did you ask me out, sweetheart? Gotta admit, first time anyone's had the balls to do that."

"Why not? The worst you could've done is say no."

"And what if I had said no? Would you still like me?"

"....Probably not." I answer truthfully.

He snickers and I lay my head back on the seat, letting myself admire his beauty.

"It's rude to stare, ya know?" He teases.

"Yeah, I know." I blatantly continue staring.

"Keep eye fucking me and we won't make it to your surprise, doll."

I smile at that challenge, not taking my eyes off of him.

"What am I gonna do with you, y/n?" He shakes his head a little.

"I dunno. What are you gonna do?" I tease him and confidently place my hand on top of his on my thigh, moving it closer towards my aching center.

I look at Jeffrey and see his eyes study the rearview mirror before slowly bringing the car to the side of the road and shutting off the engine.

"You want me so bad, huh? Come get it." Is all he says before we're both unbuckling and I'm climbing on top of him.

My lips connect with his the second I'm settled into his lap. Our desperate moans fill the car, mixing with the sounds of other cars driving by.

"I want you to know something first." He breathes into my mouth.

"Hm?" I ask, not taking my lips off his.

"I don't do stuff like this, y/n. But there's something special about you. Fuck, I.. I feel like I know you from somewhere."

"Maybe we were an old married couple in another life." I tease, bringing my lips down to his jawline, then his neck before sucking at his cologne-coated skin softly.

I reach for his pants and unbutton him, puling out his swollen cock and stroking it in my hand while hovering above him.

"Fuck, I don't have a condom." He announces.

"I'm clean.. I promise. Are you?" I don't care, I'm desperate to have him in me.

"Yes, I'll pull out... Put me inside you, baby."

I line him up with my entrance and slowly slide down his full length, moaning at the fullness. He looks up at me with lust-filled eyes as I grind on his cock.

"I wanna know more about you." He whispers, his voice raspy and deep.

"Right now? What do you wanna know?" I ask in between my moans.

"Everything." He says seriously as I bounce on him, arms wrapped around his neck to steady myself.

"Uh, okay.. I love the color y/f/c. I like to read.. mmm, fuck." I moan, trying to concentrate and list the things about myself. "I can't cook to save my life."

"Keep going." He smiles looking up at me and the streetlights make his hazel eyes sparkle.

"My dog's name is y/d/n. I love music... My celebrity crush? Andy Lincoln." I tease, smiling widely while bringing my hands to rest on his knees, so I can angle myself better and ride him faster.

He smacks a hand to my ass. "Try again."

"...Jeffrey.." I moan and my head falls back when his thumb meets my clit, rubbing slow circles on it. "Dean… Morgan." I moan out on purpose before holding my head back up to look at him.

He chuckles. "Yeah? What do you like about him?"

"What's not to like?" I breathe out as I study his face. "His eyes. His hair. His beard." My gaze travels south. "His tattoos. His body."

"What else, baby?" His thumb rubs faster against my clit and my mouth gapes open.

"His attitude. His voice.... His.. his cock."

"Fuck, baby." He says and pushes his hand against my lower back, bringing me closer to him and pulling my dress down until my braless tits pop out. He takes a nipple into his mouth, making us both groan.

"Jeffrey.. I'm gonna -"

His head falls back against the seat, my nipple popping out of his mouth. "Yeah? Cum on my cock, baby."

We look into each other's eyes as I come undone, moaning his name loudly and pathetically.

"Fuuuck." He quickly lifts me up, pulling his cock from me and stroking it in his hand before his cum shoots all over my stomach.

And by stomach I mean dress. Fuck.

I laugh as we both come down from our high, looking at my cum stained dress and the puddle of my wetness on his pants.

"Guess you're coming back to my hotel, doll. Can't go anywhere like this."

I frown at him, pouting my lower lip out. "What was the surprise gonna be?"

He presses his smirking lips to mine and squeezes my ass. "Wouldn’t you love to know."

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #jdmorgan #jdm x reader #negan fanfiction #twd negan #jdm fanfiction #jdmfanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #negan smith #jeffrey dean morgan x you #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jdm fanfic #jdm x you #jeffrey dean morgan fanfiction #negan au

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jaegersdevil · 2 months

Text

treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen

satoru x fem!reader

summary: you and gojo like each other, that much is obvious. how he goes about it though, your friends aren't the biggest fans (and neither are you). w/c: 2.1k

“why does everything with you have to be so difficult?”

shoko and suguru grumble from their spots next to and diagonal to you, respectively, but you ignore them. your focus is on satoru, who sits directly across from you, his hands clasped on the table before him.

the white-haired man wiggles his eyebrows. “it’s fun getting you all riled up.”

rolling your eyes, you take the last chocolate mochi from the package and shove it in your mouth, narrowing your eyes at satoru. all he does is smile widely and push his sunglasses into his hair.

"is that good?"

you don't miss the teasing undertones of his words, and stop chewing, a sudden tang of something in your mouth.

shoko tenses next to you, anger radiating off her. "gojo, i swear, if you–"

noticing his friend's bouncing knee and suppressed smile, suguru sighs. "he did," he mumbles, rubbing his face with his palm.

you shake your head, gathering the mochi you've chewed in one lump before you spit it out into the white box it came in. "what the fuck?"

holding an empty ketchup and mustard packet between his pointer and middle finger, satoru breaks into a fit of giggles.

with tears in your eyes from the disgusting taste of chocolate mixed with the condiments, you glare up at him. "this is why girls don't like you."

"oh please," satoru laughs, his eyes gliding over shoko and suguru, who don't smile. his own fades slightly, and when his gaze returns to you, it disappears off his cheeks. "come on! it was a little funny."

"we've somewhere to be," shoko stands, grabbing your hand to pull you up. "no boys allowed."

"wha–"

pulling you through the crowded outside area of the cafe, shoko throws satoru one last glare before smiling at suguru. "bye!"

you didn't mean for him to hear the whole story, in fact, he wasn't meant to know at all. sitting in shoko's dorm, you recount the events that happened earlier in the day.

you were grabbing lunch at the cafe down the street and replacing the chocolate mochi that satoru had ruined for you when you ran straight into nanami kento. he's a student in the same year as you, and he was extremely friendly and offered to carry your bags on the route back to campus.

"he's sweet," shoko comments, painting her middle finger a deep purple.

"he is!" you nod. "satoru would never."

shoko lifts her head from her hand and tilts her head. "he does for me when i let him."

your forehead creases and your stomach drops. "really?"

she nods and dips the brush into the nail polish bottle. "suguru offers more, forces me to give him my bags, but satoru does sometimes."

you turn your attention to your toenails, red, and the brush you hold limply in your fingers.

"hm," you hum, choosing to concentrate on painting your nails instead of satoru's chosen courtesy.

a sudden, loud pounding on the door almost makes you drop the nail polish, but then satoru is entering and flopping down on shoko's bed, shoes and coat on.

"shoes off right now, gojo."

"yes, miss," he mumbles, toeing off his adidas. then, satoru rolls over and presses his face into your hip.

"get off," you spit, suddenly angered by his presence.

"what?" he asks, head lifting off the mattress quickly. "what's your problem?"

scoffing, you shift away from him. "you!"

satoru sits up, eyes squinting at you. "me?"

"yes!" you slam the capped bottle onto the bedside table and stand up. "you know what happened today?"

satoru tilts his head in question, waiting for you to continue.

"kento helped me carry my bags back here. when was the last time you did that for me?"

"woah, woah! what? nanami?"

you nod.

"nanami kento, the nerd? he helped you? what did he say to you? did he try to chat you up?"

"chat me up?" you gape. "that's all you're worried about right now? whether a guy tried to ask me out?"

"what else should i be worried about?"

you glance at shoko, but she shakes her head, choosing to stay out of the argument.

"you're kidding."

satoru shrugs and stands too, looking down at you, but his height never intimidates you.

"you're too good for him," satoru laughs, waving his hand like the motion and his words would dismiss the entire conversation.

"who are you to decide that?"

"considering i've been your best friend for like 14 years, i think i know your worth, and it's definitely higher than his."

"you're deluded," you chided. "and who, exactly, would you allow me to be with? whose worth is equal to mine?"

satoru rolls his eyes and gestures to himself. "me, obviously."

you choke out a laugh and watch when his face falls. "sho, have you ever met anyone so delusional?"

"alright," shoko says, nervously looking at satoru.

you swear your eye twitches. "satoru, i will literally eat you. shut up." satoru's solemn expression makes your stomach do funny things.

choosing to defuse the situation instead of making it worse, shoko tries to poke fun. "you're jealous, gojo. we get it, it's okay."

spinning to meet shoko's gaze, satoru blushes a deep pink that you can't see. "no," and the shaking of his head tensely and the widening of his eyes has shoko snickering because she sees right through him. she doesn't realise she is right on the money.

"bye." and then he's out the door, his shoes in his hand.

"man, he's got problems. who does he think he is?"

shoko sighs, a faint smile on her lips. "agreed."

"call me that one more time and see what happens."

you roll your lips between your teeth, a smile threatening to break across your face. "gojo, gojo, gojo."

"satoru!" he pouts. "you always call me satoru. stop that."

you giggle into your hand, satoru's fallen expression causing you to burst. you'd both clearly forgotten what happened at shoko's yesterday, and it was obvious when said girl looked at your expressions. this always occurred between you and satoru, nothing was ever that serious, but to onlookers, it was odd, to say the least. shoko always questioned whether she knew either of you as well as she thought because it was clear you and satoru were each other's makers.

satoru's eyes shift under his purple sunglasses, mischief swimming in his blue irises. then, satoru steps toward you, placing his hands on the back of your arms. "don't make me shake you."

"satoru," you whisper, peering up at him. at the sound of his name, he visibly melts. his shoulders relax, and his face morphs into relief.

"thank you," satoru nods, rubbing your skin. "now, was that so hard?"

"i dont know, gojo, you tell me."

"are we gonna stop them soon?" suguru asks shoko where they sit on the picnic bench. the girl rolls her eyes and sighs.

"gojo! quit. leave her alone."

the white-haired man turns his head sharply, eyes lasering into shoko's. "if you don't like it, you can leave, ieiri."

"gojo," shoko deadpans. "calling me by my family name doesn't bother me."

ignoring her, satoru turns back to you. "fine." and then he backs up, hands in the air. "if you hate me so much, i guess i'll cancel our reservations at the karaoke place on friday."

"no," suguru cuts in, standing from the bench. "don't be ridiculous, satoru. we've been waiting for that for weeks."

satoru shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you playfully. "if someone doesn't fix their attitude, it's not happening."

this time, both you and shoko are rolling your eyes—you because satoru is being annoying, and shook because you won't give in.

"you could end this right now, you know?" she calls to you.

sighing, you shrug. "it's more fun when he's like this."

shoko mumbles under her breath and picks up her bag. "you two were made for each other. i'm off. c'mon suguru."

despite gojo's threats, karaoke went ahead on friday.

you and shoko showed up a little late due to a wardrobe malfunction. emerging from the train station, you see suguru and satoru sitting with their backs against the brick wall of the small restaurant next to the karaoke joint.

"about time!" satoru exclaims, his long legs stretched out in front of him. "we were about to go in there and sing 'my heart will go on' without you."

suguru rolls his eyes and stands. "ignore him."

you nod. "already do."

satoru's jaw goes slack, and he clambers upright. "rude."

"alright," shoko shrugs her bag higher on her shoulder. "let's sing."

the night wasn't going as you had anticipated. shoko accidentally knocked her drink over your top, leaving it wet and sticky and smelling of tequila, suguru passed the microphone a little too hard at you and ended up hitting you in the temple, and satoru offered you his hoodie.

now, this isn't an issue, considering you've been friends for longer than you hadn't and wore various parts of his closet for fun sometimes. but the matter is, his ex-girlfriend gave him his hoodie, and it was damn expensive too. you and her didn't struggle to get on, no, it was the notion that she felt threatened by you in private. while they were together, it was a secret that she felt this way, so when satoru told you why they broke up, you felt bitterly about her. thinking you were friends with your best friend's, albeit crush's girlfriend, was both a relief and depressing.

so, the hoodie is a problem.

but satoru was happy to throw the garment at your head, yell "cover up that ugly top", and continue screaming the lyrics to 'teenage dream' by katy perry.

but, it's a problem that you endure because satoru is giving you his hoodie. pulling it over your head and threading your arms into the sleeves was fine. the material was soft, and the hoodie was slouchy and comfortable. and it wasn't until you pulled the hood over your head that you finally acknowledged the scent of him. and then your mind started to wander.

was he only giving you this hoodie to quash all feelings you had for him? did he know? was this one of his tricks to get you to like him like that? isn't that what he did to all the girls? what did he call it again?

treat 'em mean to keep 'em keen? yeah, that's the one. but this was a little too mean for you, and you couldn't help the sour attitude brewing in your stomach.

you felt your cheeks heating up and immediately had to dispel your awkward stillness. "this smells so bad. do you even wash your clothes 'toru?"

"pfft," he scoffs, the music changing on the screen behind him. "says you! you might have to keep that after wearing it. i can't stand your stench."

shoko snatches the microphone out of his hand and pushes him off the small stage. "move, it's my turn."

stumbling, satoru takes a seat next to you. you don't look up at him, but you can feel his eyes on you.

"you look cute in that, actually," he mumbles as the tune to 'the sweet escape' fades in.

"shut up," you say, leaning on him, watching shoko and suguru make the chorus a duet.

"sorry."

you furrow your eyebrows and peer up at him. "what for?"

"i know you know where the hoodie's from. i shouldn't have said that."

you shake your head, the tips of your ears burning. "it's fine."

"take it off," he grumbles, fingers playing with the hem of the jumper.

startled, you rest your hands on him. "no, it's fine. my top's ugly anyway, and it smells."

satoru huffs. "your top isn't ugly. it's hot," his eyes burn through the material on your chest and you inhale sharply.

"satoru," you whisper dangerously. your eyes widen when you realise where his gaze lays and you slap his bicep. "stop."

maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe you'd both gotten tired of teasing that the only thing left to do was to air out how you felt (finally).

"surely you have to know how i feel about you," he exhales a laugh and turns to your best friends who are dancing to 'can't get you out of my head'. "i know i can be a dick, but you're no angel either."

your tongue pokes the inside of your cheek, suppressing a laugh. "fair. but i love annoying you."

"likewise," he winks. "let me take you out properly?"

the question takes you off guard, and you glance at shoko and suguru, who are paying you no mind. "because you and i are worth the same?"

satoru opens his mouth to reply, probably one that would get him smacked, but the silence of the room cuts him off.

"gojo, remove your hands!" shoko yells into the microphone. you jump in surprise, and gojo drops your hands.

you shrug at satoru and stand, knocking into suguru when he shoves the microphone into your hand.

and 'blah blah blah' plays on repeat in satoru's head until you agree to go out with him, thanks to shoko.

#hmmmmm #not feeling the ending #but we ball #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo imagine #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine

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mclarengf · 2 months

Text

veo una muñeca cuando miro en el espejo

fucking carlos sainz in a club bathroom

[1.8k] - ¡18+ mdni!

note: first ever smut, hope this goes well…

taglist: @foreveralbon @aviscarrentals @disneyprincemuke @hangmandruigandmav @whoreforbrownies @lightdragonrayne

¡¡read part one here first!!

turning back to you, the stranger smiles, and leans in to ask, “do you want to have some proper fun?”

you jerk your head back, searching his face for any sign he’s joking. there’s none.

slowly, your lips curl into a smile and you nod, slipping your hand back into his. he raises an eyebrow in intrigue and starts moving toward the back of the club, near where he’d been stood before.

he parts the crowd with one arm, not letting go of you with the other, even if it would make it much easier to clear the way.

he stops in front of the bathrooms.

“you want this, hermosa?”

you nod again, and he goes to push one of the doors open. then you pull his hand back quickly, having thought of a complication.

“what’s wrong?” he stares down at you, puzzled by your sudden change in manner.

you frown back at him for a second, trying to word your query correctly.

“what’s your name?” you finally ask.

he doesn’t blink.

then, he smiles, and starts laughing.

“ay, i was too distracted by your beauty, i forgot to ask what your name is!”

he’s got a nice laugh, and you’re still a little bit drunk, so you start laughing too.

“my name is carlos,” he finally tells you.

“carlos,” you repeat, rolling it around in your mouth, copying how he had said it; lingering on the ‘r’ and with a quiet ’s’. when you’re happy with your pronounciation of his name, you tell him yours.

he does the same, practising your accent after you. you’re definitely staring as he does so, watching as his lips form the vowels in your name, then drifting upwards to the small wrinkle between his brows as he tries to replicate your speech pattern.

“come on!” your words drag you out of your thoughts before your brain can, and you lead carlos through the bathroom door.

it’s not a bad bathroom, for a club this busy. it looks clean enough, there are no obvious stains on any of the tiling… you’re not here to admire the restroom though, unfortunately for the janitor.

carlos is looking at you with those hungry eyes, and he locks the door as he settles back against it. you don’t bother waiting for him to make the first move this time, rushing towards him, pressing your mouth onto his.

now, in the security of a locked room, carlos is less cautious about his movements. still paying full attention to you as you make out, he reaches around you to feel for your zip. you can feel him smile as he finds it and he undoes it easily, sucking and nipping at your lips the whole time.

he moves his mouth lower, and turns his attention to sucking a hickey onto your skin, licking and biting at the area where your neck meets your shoulder.

you back off from him and drop your hands from the back of his head as you step out of the dress, but he tastes so good and he’s turning you on so much; you don’t want to break your kiss to breathe. somehow, in your haze, carlos had managed to swap places with you, his arm now caging you against the door, which is cold against your back.

it’s him who lifts his head first, licking his swollen bottom lip as he stares at your body.

“eres guapísima,” he trails a finger across your navel, leaving goosebumps in its wake, “you are beautiful.”

you want to roll your eyes, or blush, or hide at the compliment, but something about the way he says it tells you that he means it, that it isn’t just some line he says to all the girls he meets in dark clubs.

you reach for his shirt as he pulls you back in again; your hands go for his buttons as his go behind you, to unhook your bra.

both tasks are equally difficult, and after realising this, you mutually decide to swap jobs. carlos forgoes the formality of buttons and pulls his shirt up over his head as you let your bra fall to the floor.

he drops to his knees, seemingly with no regard for his poor kneecaps, and pulls at your panties. he taps at your leg for you to step out of them, and nuzzles his nose up your thigh, provoking a shaky sigh from you.

somehow still observant in your state of absolute euphoria, you see him stuff your underwear into the back pocket of the trousers he’s still wearing.

he takes your leg and hoists it onto his shoulder. then he grins up at you, giving you no warning before he buries his face in between your thighs.

“fuck, carlos-“ your supporting leg shakes as he mouths at your clit, two fingers pushing into you already.

your hands pull at his hair as he starts scissoring and curling them inside you, hitting that spot every time.

he’s so good at this, you barely have enough awareness to think, and god, his mouth-

you can feel a growing tension in you, so you pull off him before you can come. carlos stares at you again, dazed. you can’t judge though, god knows you’re out of it too.

“wanna- mm, wanna come on your cock, carlos. want your cock,” you whine out, pulling at him to get up.

he pushes himself up and you’re instantly undoing his belt and his fly, pulling his boxer briefs and pants down in one movement.

he’s already hard from eating you out, you notice. he doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he strokes himself, and you don’t plan on breaking the eye contact either.

you watch as he twists his hand at the top, then throws his head back, eyes shut and mouth open in a state of bliss.

“fuck, carlos, i need you!”

that finally causes him to spring into action, holding onto the leg that was on his shoulder and tapping you on the bum as he says, “vamos; jump.”

you do as he says and he catches you easily. he walks you both over to the sink and sets you down on it. the porcelain is cold, but you don’t care.

he stops one more time, as he’s lining himself up with your entrance, doe eyes staring down at you, giving you one more chance to back out.

fuck, you can feel his tip against your cunt; he’s so close. your legs are still hooked around carlos, so you simply pull your feet towards you, causing him to stumble your way too. he bottoms out in one motion, and you feel so full.

“give me a second,” you breathe, dropping your head onto his shoulder.

he obliges, and lets out a breath you didn’t know he was holding. you can feel his exhale from where your skin touches, and from deep inside you. you clench a few times around him experimentally, and it’s his turn to falter.

“mierde.”

taking your actions as a green light to move, carlos pulls out almost entirely, before sinking back into you.

“you’re so big,” you moan out when he’s fully in you again.

he breathes out a laugh at that, before being cut off as he rocks his hips against yours. you’re overwhelmed by the feeling, his cock is hitting all the right places in you, and he’s everywhere.

he’s fucking you so hard, so filthily, in the bathroom of a club you’d met him at maybe only an hour ago. your eyes roll back as he keeps thrusting into you.

“carlos, please, please, i’m so close, i’m-“

his hand reaches up and starts rubbing circles into your clit.

“come for me, amore.”

you let the tension snap, and feel your breath hitch as you come.

carlos fucks you through your orgasm, slowly, and stills when he sees you blinking back the stars in your eyes. how the fuck he didn’t come when you were squeezing his cock, milking him for all he’s worth, you have no idea.

you smile at him tiredly, grinding your hips onto his cock as you try to make him come too. he starts fucking you again, chasing his own orgasm now, reckless and hungry.

you can feel when he’s close; his thrusts are getting slower and deeper, and he’s breathing harder. you’re trying your hardest to meet him with each movement, to take more and more of him.

you start babbling at him; you need him to come.

“want you to come, please, want you to come in me, carlos.”

that sends him over the edge.

he throws his head back as his hips buck forward, impossibly deeper. you can feel his hot come gush inside you.

the next few minutes is filled with heavy breaths from the both of you, trying to recover from probably the best bathroom hookup of your life. carlos pulls his pants up first, then helps you to the floor. he brings your clothes over from where they lay in a heap by the door. he kneels again and holds your dress out for you to step into, then pulls it up, and gestures for you to turn so he can zip it up too.

you giggle at him.

“we should do that again.”

“here,” he passes you his phone, open already on a new number slot. you type in your details and hand it back to him.

you turn back to the mirror and attempt to pat your hair down a bit, attempting to hide your messy hair at least a little bit, but carlos wears his with pride; his chest even puffs out a bit when you point it out, “i don’t see a problem with that, guapísima.”

he grabs your hand to fit in his and you pull him down for a slow kiss, lazy and open-mouthed.

“vamos, hermosa.” carlos unlocks the door and pulls it open for you to step out first.

“yeah, carlos; let’s go, mate!”

you both look to your left to see the booth of carlos’ friends cheering at you.

“shut up, lando,” carlos flips them off, though he’s grinning too, “pinche pendejo.”

as you walk away from them, carlos makes a show of squeezing your arse, where his mates can see.

your own friends, only a couple booths in front of carlos’, are staring slackjawed at you and the ridiculously hot guy you just came out of the bathroom with, who is now holding onto your butt.

you flash a smile at them, mouthing, “i’ll tell you later!”

“now,” carlos glances down at you, and then to your intertwined hands, “can i buy you a drink?”

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sinimake · 4 months

Text

Now, it's Johnny specific headcanons! Read Kenshi's here

Took a gap year to earn his college funds, but when he got accepted into a film school, his family wanted him to sign up for the army. So one morning, he just went out, took an interstate bus, and started living on his own.

He worked many menial works here and there, barely surviving, so he started to enter underground cage fights in the night for quick bucks. The first time he got in the ring and the announcer asked for his name, he chose Johnny Cage on a whim.

His college years were wild. Almost always drunk every night bc he's landed a job as a bartender in a local bar. Alcohol is conveniently within arms reach and is an effective painkiller to the punches he took in the ring fights. That's when his addiction started.

He got his Johnny tattoo when he was shit faced and sad. He desperately wanted to shed Johnathan Carlton name off himself, so he marched into a tattoo parlor to have a permanent reminder on his chest. People think he's narcissistic to have his name tattooed so big on his body, Johnny never corrects the meaning of it bc it is better to be seen as an asshole than weak.

One really good perk of his bartender job was talking to the patrons and hearing their life stories. It really helped Johnny's acting career in the long run, where he understands his roles deeply and delivers the portrayals from heart.

He got a golden raspberry award for his The Flesh Pits movie. Threw the tropy out of the window once in anger but now he displays it along with his other achievement awards as a reminder.

He's an ambassador of many luxury brands.

He's very timely organized person where he plans his days down to every hour. Hates when there's a sudden change in his timetable.

When Johnny and Kenshi have a movie night, not only does he narrate what's happening in the scene, but he nerds out on what exact techniques of shots and lighting are used.

A big car enthusiast. Gives his cars the names that are in Mambo No. 5 by Lou Bega. (A little bit of Monica in my life—)

Snores in his sleep, specially when he's really exhausted.

His music taste is mainly girly pop, but sometimes he belts out on old school rock songs.

Loves improv acting. Sometimes, he drops in at random improv club nights to participate in one or two sets. It is always fun to see the crowd going "is that Johnny Cage? THE Johnny Cage?" whenever he goes on the stage.

A serial double texter. Will send you random ass pictures with no context or whatever. It is especially funny bc Kenshi can't see the pics, and the voice-over feature of his phone gives him the most obscure descriptions that have the man facepalming every time.

Is a big coffee guy but always gotta have them with milk and sugar bc he can't handle bitter taste of americano.

Has love and hate relationship with paparazzi cameramen. When he's out with the earthrealm defenders, his friends sometimes get the feeling of being followed. They say the concern to Johnny, thinking some outworld danger is hunting them or something just for the actor go "no worries that's just my regular paparazzi, Jeff. HI JEFF!! HOW YOU BEEN DOING TODAY?" "I'm fine! How about you, Johnny?", "WOULD YOU LIKE SOME COFFEE? IS HOT OUTSIDE!" "yeah."

^then sometimes it's like this: "CAN YOU GIVE ME A BREATHER FOR A SEC?! YOUR CAMERA CLICKING IS SO LOUD!" "MY RENT IS DUE!" "NOT MY PROBLEM!"

He's an ambivert. Quiet night ins are as much appreciated as parties. He needs winding down moments but will go batshit insane if he doesn't get at least one human interaction a day.

#johnny cage #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 2023 #johnny cage headcanons #johnshi #johnshi headcanon

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imagine-darksiders · 6 months

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Not your time - A Darksiders oneshot.

Hey everyone!

A commission from the lovely and generous @humboltsquid, who requested a female Reader who barely survives an assassination attempt that's carried out in front of the Horsemen.

CW: Blood, guns, assassination attempt, mild descriptions of bullet wounds, aftermath, protective Horsemen, whump, angst, fluff, Death centric.

----------

A sudden flash of dazzling light bursts in front of your face, and try as you might to keep your eyes open, you just know that come Monday, there’ll be an unseemly photograph of you squinting out of the front page of a local newspaper.

“Perfect!” the photographer grins without casting so much as a glance down at the screen of her camera.

Blinking rapidly to disperse the shadow floating in front of your eyes, you take another look out at the crowd gathered on the square below the steps of Haven City Hall.

Most, if not all of their attention is rigidly devoted to you as multiple pens sit poised over tattered notebooks, though there are some people who throw envious glares at the photographer as she retreats back into their ranks.

You have to admit, you find yourself wondering where she managed to scrouge up a working camera.

It’s hardly been a few months since Humanity pulled itself out of the rubble of an unrecognisable Earth.

Word of the Apocalypse, its aftermath and the reasons behind it spread like wildfire – words that originated from your mouth, at the behest of the Four Horsemen, all of whom agreed that you’d make a fine ambassador for your species.

Death made it apparent that he and his siblings thought very highly of you after your involvement in clearing War’s name and surviving trials no human ever had before.

You’re starting to wish they thought a little less of you now, though. This is the seventh ‘press conference’ you’ve been subjected to in the past month. That’s without all the one-to-one interviews you’d been forced into with world leaders, heads of national security, historians, religious leaders, scientist… The list goes on.

Today is just more of the same; a whole lot of reporters clamouring to quote you for their articles in cobbled-together newspapers that have finally begun to crop up around the globe.

At a glance, it would almost appear that you're standing on the steps alone. But upon further inspection, it isn't difficult to spot four, hulking figures eyeing the proceedings from the shadows.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Death, Fury, Strife and War. Your guardians. And quite possibly the best friends you've ever had, no matter their quirks and social ineptness.

They've grown tired of the constant questions from your fellow humans, even Strife, and no doubt the only reason they're here at all today is to watch your back, despite how often you try to tell them that they don't have to worry about you.

You might as well be throwing words at a brick wall and expecting it to break.

In the corner of your eye, there’s another flash, and a split second where your heart starts to sink at the prospect of yet another photograph circling the papers. However, in less than a blink, something smacks into your abdomen with a dull, wet ‘thwack,’ forcing you to stumble onto your backfoot.

Startled, you drop your mouth open and look out at the crowd, dimly wondering why one of them had thrown something at you…

A rock, perhaps?

Strange…

You nearly jump out of your skin when there’s an explosion of motion all around you.

From one moment to the next, War hauls his immense bulk in front of you, dousing you in his shadow as he rips Chaoseater from its scabbard and swings the terrible sword out in front of him, shoulders bristling with a rage you can’t yet place.

At almost the exact same time, Strife appears as if from nowhere to your right, roaring like a wild beast and, to your horror, whipping Mercy and Redemption out of their holsters and pointing them out at the anxious crowd.

A woman screams, loud and shrill enough to hurt your ears, sending blood coursing through them until you’re left grimacing at the sound, only dimly aware of the tiny burn blossoming to life in your abdomen, just beneath your left breast.

No sooner have the brothers locked their legs rigidly into place than someone fills the space behind you– Fury, if the warm body pressing a little too firmly into your back is any indication.

“Strife! The rooftops!” she shouts urgently, and you can’t help but grimace again as her voice thrums through your head like a claxon.

Bewildered. you twist yourself sideways, meeting the stare of the last Horseman, Death. He was the furthest away when the rock hit you, though now he seems to warp through the air towards you with the grace and swiftness of a shadow moving across the square, and all the ferocity of a bull charging down its quarry.

Your mouth hangs open, lips twitching as the burn in your chest grows as if an insect has lodged its stinger inside your skin, and you’re about to ask what in the world they think they’re doing when you pull in a breath.

All at once, your chest hitches painfully, and you hurry to throw a hand over your mouth to catch the hacking cough that takes you by surprise. You pull a face at the sensation of thick saliva spattering against your palm.

It had been a sunny day not moments ago, but as Death approaches from your left, the temperature around you plummets by a staggering degree, as if you’ve been cast into the eye of a polar storm. Growing increasingly alarmed by the second, you pull in a smaller breath, one that rattles and wheezes in its way in, but doesn’t quite manage to fill your lungs as you move your hand away to call Death’s name.

The last thing you expect to see when you briefly glance down is the splatter of rich, glistening blood freckling the previously unblemished skin of your palm.

It’s only then that the thought occurs to you; it may not have been a rock at all…

“Death?” you whimper shakily, lowering your trembling hand and touching your fingertips gingerly to the spot on your torso that’s beginning to feel even worse, as though instead of an insect, a lit cigarette has been jammed against your skin with no signs of cooling.

You’d flinch away from the sensation were you not being tightly boxed in on every side by four, bridling forces of nature.

The eldest of them, Death, is upon you in an instant, dragging the shadows of buildings along in his wake as if, for just a moment, the darkness itself is beholden to none but him.

There’s a fire raging in the Horseman’s wide and simmering eyes that contradicts the icy hands that reach out to catch you by your shoulders when you take a faltering step towards him, only to crumple as the numbness in your legs makes itself apparent.

A familiar chill pours down your spine. One you’re all-too familiar with.

They promised you had nothing to be afraid of, not while you have Four of them in your corner.

But you can’t help it.

Right now, as War bellows a thunderous battle-cry out at some unknown recipient, and the breaths start to leave you in great clouds of billowing, white air, you’re scared.

---

‘No, no, no, NO! NO!’

Death’s ever-churning mind howls with outrage and disbelief, even if his lips remain tightly sealed beneath his bone-mask as he holds you upright by your shoulders, suspending you an inch above the ground in his haste to scan you for injury.

He’s mutely aware that the crowd of humans have already begun to scatter, though whether they’ve been driven away by the Horsemen’s sudden act of aggression or the culprit who has just made a foolish attempt on your life, Death can’t be bothered to guess.

He knows… As soon as he caught the flash from a broken window that overlooks the city hall, he knew. And he knows, for the rest of his wretched existence, that he’ll be trying to atone for standing too far away to reach you in time. For growing complacent.

They've all grown complacent, though he’ll shoulder the blame for his siblings because they – however unwittingly – follow by his example.

He thought this would be safe.

You weren’t supposed to get hurt, this was just another question-and-answer session you’ve done dozens of times before. Curious humans seeking gaps in their knowledge from you.

Who in their right mind would dare, would even have the nerve to try and hurt the human who has been so obviously afforded protection by the Four? Not even Samael, arguably their strongest adversary, would think twice before attempting to antagonise the Horsemen.

He can feel your warm breaths hitting the exposed skin of his sternum as he clings to you, rolling his eyes down until he spies the patch of crimson blooming outwards underneath your quivering hand.

The acrid stench of blood – your blood – is quick to slip between the cracks of his mask and into his unwilling nostrils.

Death’s muscles bunch at the intrusion and he clamps his gnashing teeth down on the primal growl that tries to escape through them.

He’s aware that at any moment, his siblings are going to catch the same scent on the wind, and it’ll be all he can do to stop them from levelling the entire city, just to ensure that your would-be killer doesn’t get away. Hell, it’s all he can currently do to keep his own Reaper Form from tearing itself loose and raking up the souls of any human in the vicinity.

As unhappy as his siblings already are though, they’re about to raise merry Hell when he makes his next announcement.

“She’s been shot,” he spits, pulling the metaphorical trigger on three, loaded guns.

As if from nowhere, a maelstrom whips up around Strife, who only just manages to lurch sideways far enough to spare you and his siblings from being crushed as he erupts into the titanic, armoured beast; Anarchy, shaking out his mane and tipping his horned head back to screech up at the sky.

Steeling himself against your sudden whimpers of alarm, Death barks, “Seventh story window to the North. Go!”

And without needing any further spurring on, Anarchy launches himself into a gallop across the street, leaping up to latch his monstrous claws into the wall of the building and hauling himself straight up the side of it, hand over hand.

War and Fury don’t look as though they’ll be far behind their brother, but Death’s voice is enough to still them before they too can unleash their true forms and give chase.

“Fury.”

Snarling, his sister whips around towards him, her expression faltering when she sees how carefully he slides his arms beneath your knees and hoists you off your feet, cradling you against his unforgiving chest.

“Rampage is the fastest of our horses,” he continues, “Find Azrael, meet us at Y/n’s home.”

She looks as though she’s about to argue, far more interested in joining Strife to enact some well-deserved vengeance in your honour, but another glance at you reminds her that this isn’t the time for personal vendettas.

Fiery hair bobs as she gives a resolute nod, then turns on her heel and raises a fist in the air. “Rampage! To me!”

Death’s attention flits back to you, secure in the knowledge that at least two of his siblings have been distracted from going on the warpath.

Speaking of…

“Brother… Is she...?” War’s voice has dipped and bowed with rage, lending him the cadence of a beast.

Before he can say another word, Death speaks, his magics flaring about him like coiling snakes, though is tone is deceptively calm. “War, I need you to guard us as we ride.”

Without another word, the Horsemen summon their steeds, and Death is forced to relinquish you to War for a second whilst he hauls himself into Despair’s saddle, immediately reaching to take you again when his brother gently lifts you towards him. You scream as he does, trying to curl in on yourself until you’re deposited in the saddle between Death’s sturdy thighs.

Then, in a moment so rare, not even his siblings can remember the last time they saw it, Death slips his hand underneath yours, trying not to let his stomach squeeze at the feeling of your fingers latching onto his. He meets your eyes, loathing the wide, terrible pain that’s been placed inside them.

Pain has no place in your life, not so long as they’re here to protect you from it.

“Not yet,” he breathes, damn-near begs, spurring Despair into a thunderous gallop with Ruin snorting wildly at his heels.

----------

It’s the agony that wakes you in the end, a raging hellfire that ignites in your chest as you startle to consciousness, never recalling how you’d come to be unconscious in the first place.

As if the unexpected pain weren’t bad enough, your heartbeat thuds strongly in your ears, which are ringing with the shouts of several, booming voices, all far too close and spilling over one another in a furious rush, leaving you feeling as though you’ve been placed inside an amphitheatre.

“- the Hell wasn’t someone watching the buildings!?” Fury’s voice, easily distinguishable from her brothers’ and absolutely drenched in her namesake.

Gritting your teeth, you screw your face up when Strife almost roars back, “Keep lookin’ at me when you say that, and I might start thinkin’ you’re blaming me for this!”

“Perhaps I am! You’re the firearms expert, as you so often like to remind us!”

“Why the Hell should that mean-!?” He cuts himself off midsentence, granting you a second of relief before he promptly redirects his attention to one of his other siblings. “WAR! If you don’t stop pacing, you’re going out the goddamn window!”

Ah, you wince, so that wasn’t your heart beating in your ears.

War’s thundering footfalls come to an abrupt halt somewhere to your right, and he promptly responds to his brother’s threat with a rumbling growl, the kind that emanates straight from his chest and spills across the room like a roll of thunder.

They’re fighting about something…. Which isn’t unusual. But lately, they’ve been getting better at not doing it around you.

God your chest hurts. What the Hell happened?

“Mmgh, ugh…” You feel like you need a crowbar to pry your eyelids apart, but at least the pitiful sound you made is enough to stop their incessant bickering.

A new problem arises though, when they instantly start to exclaim anew.

“She’s awake!” Strife gushes.

“I can see that for myself,” Fury sighs, though not without a hint of relieved laughter.

War’s relief is quieter, but no less palpable.

Through the gaps in your eyelids, you spot a flash of red surging towards you as you try to heave yourself upright, but not a moment later, a strong, uncompromising gauntlet engulfs your shoulder, pushing you down to lay flat on your back.

“Stay there,” War’s baritone thrums, as gentle as you’ve ever heard it, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

Tears of pain are already trailing down your cheeks, but you suppose he means you’ll make it worse. Blinking to clear your vision, you peer up at the three, titanic figures looming over your head.

Strife’s eyes are the first you meet, glowing like raw gold from beneath his silver helm. They pinch at the corners, a telltale sign that he’s smiling under there. “H-hey, gorgeous,” he swallows thickly as if he’s about to choke, “Glad to see you’re awake again… Scared the Hell out of us back there, you know.”

You know it must have been bad if he’s admitting to fear.

“How’re you feeling.”

Before you can open your mouth to tell him that it feels as if your chest is being split in two, Fury scoffs, turning to shoot Strife a scathing look.

“She was shot, you fool. How do you think she’s feeling?”

“Sh-shot?” you croak, once more attempting to sit up, but with War’s gauntlet pinning you in place, you only succeed in squirming weakly on the-… Are you on your bed?

Your breath starts picking up, throat bone-dry as more tears spill down your cheeks. “I was shot?”

To her credit, Fury swiftly clamps her jaw shut, biting her lip and looking at least a little ashamed for blurting that out. War emits a troubled hum whilst Strife hurries to reassure you.

“Hey, hey,” he hushes, reaching out to drop his enormous hand over the top of yours, “It’s over. It’s over now. Azrael fixed you up. You’re okay.” There’s conviction in his words, but you don’t know if he’s trying to convince himself or you.

You roll your neck down slightly to look him over, and it’s only now that you see the blood smeared across his chest plate.

With a sharp gasp, your heart rate skyrockets.

War follows your wide-eyed stare and grumbles, “I told you to wash that off…”

Glancing down at himself, Strife quickly snaps his head up to offer you a shake of his head. “No, no, don’t worry about that. It’s not your blood.”

Despite his efforts, this does little to reassure you.

“It’s yours!?” you bleat.

“Nah, ain’t mine either. S’from the guy who shot you.”

Your abdomen squeezes in protest as you strain out, “Strife! You killed someone!?”

For a moment, he falls silent. All of them do, flicking pointed glances between one another as a creeping chill begins to seep inside the room, reaching your skin even under the blankets that have been tucked around your neck.

“I gave the order.”

All eyes dart to the open door of your bedroom. You can’t help the aborted breath you draw in when you see Death filling the wooden frame.

His bulging shoulders heave up and down slowly, and that dark, brooding stare is adhered to your face, causing you to squirm uncomfortably as if you mean to escape it.

“Finally decided to stop beating yourself up, have you?” Fury mutters under her breath, earning a glare from Death so frosty, you could swear you see her shiver.

“But… but I don’t understand?” you wheeze, furrowing your brow wearily and shifting to try and ease the ache in your lungs, “What do you mean you gave the order?”

“Some fool human made an attempt on your life,” War supplies, “Strife did what we all wished we could do.”

Once again, you try to sit up, and once again the weight of War’s gauntlet stops you.

Grunting, you argue, “But, you can’t… kill someone just because-!”

“-Because what?” Death snaps, stalking towards the bed an effectively silencing you in a heartbeat, “Because an overconfident zealot thought you deserved to die simply because you spoke a truth that didn’t align with his doctrines?”

He may be the shortest of the Horsemen, but that doesn’t mean that Death isn’t several feet taller than you, able to loom over your bed like a storm cloud.

“Were we to stand idly by whilst one of our own was threatened?”

You glance up at the others, taken aback by the ferocious, steadfast frowns on War and Fury’s expressions, and the familiar glint of steel in Strife’s eyes. Not one of them are contending Death’s bold declaration.

That you’re one of theirs.

It’s a hell of a claim to come from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Ancient Nephilim of legend, laying claim to a human?

You wet your lips, but a response doesn’t come.

Death, however, seems only too ready to fill the space of your silence.

In a single, fluid motion, he lowers himself onto one knee beside your bed, and that action in itself is as poignant as his words.

Death never kneels.

The other three don’t look half as surprised as you’re sure you must, not even when their eldest, their leader, reaches out, hesitates, then rests the tips of his cold fingers gently under your jawline, directly over your pulse.

Wide-eyed, you can only stare into the sockets of his mask, breathing shallowly, missing the way his shoulders slump at the sensation of a strong, steady throb beneath his fingertips.

“You’re under our protection,” he states matter-of-factly, backed up by a concurring grunt from War on the other side of the bed, “And when the Horsemen have your back, nobody touches you. Is that understood?”

You press your lips together, both horrified and equally humbled that you could have earned the devotion of such powerful, ethereal beings.

Holding your gaze, Death firmly repeats, “Nobody.”

You still have questions. No end of them. But right now, frightened, hurt, and vulnerable, you’re wrenching heart seeks safety in one of the few places you know can offer it.

It hurts to raise your left arm, but you bite down hard on your tongue and slip your hand around what you can of Death’s solid neck.

The first sob escapes you when he leans towards you, pretending to be guided by your pitiable strength until you can wrap more of your arm around the back of his shoulders and push your damp face into the column of his throat, shivering slightly from the chill on his skin.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper against him, feeling his muscles turn lax underneath your touch.

In response, the Horseman nudges his mask closer to your ear and in a whisper that’s meant for you alone, he utters, “You’re not the one with anything to be sorry for…”

Unseen by you, the ancient Nephilim’s eyes glare holes through each of his siblings, daring one of them to comment on his moment of rare, uncharacteristic indulgence.

Per the norm, Strife is the one who struggles to keep his mouth shut.

“Aw, how come Death gets a hug?” Strife whinges petulantly, “He doesn’t even like ‘em.”

“And you believed him when he told you that?” Fury snickers.

On the bed, your grip just tightens around your guardian’s neck as his protective hand lays gingerly against your back, cold fingertips drinking up the warmth of your human body with a reverence known only to Death.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #reader #whump #angst #protective Horsemen #fluff #commission

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