#<- i would like to replace that tag with something that is less conversational | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chloeangelic · 5 months

Text

the paper salesman

Brother's best friend!Jim Halpert x f!reader Rating: 18+ My masterlist I Max's masterlist

Summary: You spot your childhood crush at a birthday party and end up in his room together.

Warnings: Smut, AU where Pam does not exist, alcohol, oral (f receiving), handjob, semi protected PIV, creampie, squirting.

A/N: Well, well, well, if it isn't me and my froggy friend @macfrog back with another fic. But this time, it's not satire - this one is actually serious, and we are taking full advantage of everyone's teenage crush on season 2 Jim.

Word count: 6k

You pick at the edge of your wine glass, nodding along as the sound of your brother’s girlfriend talking about work turns into a low, buzzing sort of hum, indistinguishable from the other voices in the room. It seems that turning thirty was the catalyzing event for your older brother’s birthday parties to turn from all-nighters at clubs to barbecues at his new house. The attendance changed too — what used to be a crowd of girls in tight, short dresses has been replaced by a landscape of coworkers and childhood friends that he has reconnected with over the past year.

There’s a couple people singing karaoke by the TV across the room, and although neither of them are singing in tune, you cheer them on as you half-heartedly listen to your future sister-in-law’s story. People are scattered around in groups of two, three, or four, chatting amongst themselves against the tapestry of multicolored string lights and framed photos. You can’t imagine your brother had much to do with the interior design choices, and assume Stacie took him to the department store and filled a shopping cart with lights and lamps and frames that would make the living space for two thirty-year-old men a little less bland and sterile.

But still, despite the obvious decorative touch of Mark’s girlfriend around the room – you can’t help but wonder which parts were chosen by his roommate.

Jim Halpert – your brother’s best friend for as long as you can remember. Six-foot-something, polite and awkwardly charming. Lingering on your front steps to walk with Mark to school, backpack slung over one shoulder, or waiting patiently in the kitchen doorway while your brother finishes eating dinner, a basketball sat in the ‘c’ of his elbow. Making a whole lot of nothing conversation with your mom about school, about how his brothers were doing, growing bashful when she’d bring up girlfriends.

He’s five years older than you, but that ten-year-old ghost of yourself would sit twirling the fork in her fingers, mindlessly dragging mashed potato around her plate. Watching the way he’d toss the flicks of fringe from his eyes, cross one foot over the other as he answered every incessant question of your mother’s with the dutiful respect of a well-raised boy. Your crush was obvious back then, easily spotted by her whenever Jim stayed for dinner. You’d look away, bite back your smile and try to stifle your laugh at his jokes, hoping he wouldn’t notice. That little crush stayed with you, despite the boys you went on to date in high school, and the ones you slept with and tried to get serious with in college to no avail. Every time you came back from the holidays, Jim would inevitably show up for dinner one day, and you would revert back to that shy ten-year-old, sitting in the same seats as you did back then.

You watched him become a man in front of your eyes, and by the time you started getting physical with your first boyfriend, little thoughts began to weasel themselves into your mind about Jim. It was entirely inappropriate, and that curiosity should have directed itself exclusively to the boy who had taken you out to the movies, to prom and to homecoming, but you wondered what Jim looked like shirtless, you wondered about his experience, about the size of his cock. One weekend in your freshman year of college, with nothing else to do but to visit your parents, you tagged along with Mark to his basketball game, and sat on the bleachers with your eyes glued to Jim, to the sweat that darkened his jersey and the undeniable bulge in his shorts. He came up to say hi after, his brown hair drenched with sweat as well, looking at you through stunning green eyes as he asked how school was going. You made him laugh with a story about a professor, and the sound of his chuckles echoed in your mind the rest of the night. He had moved out of his parents’ house by then, and started working as a salesman at a paper company in town.

He still works there – as far as you know, at least, based on what he told you the last time you saw him, picking him and Mark up from their high school reunion two years back.

Mark had drank a little too much and had needed Jim’s steady arm around his shoulder to direct him to your car. You swallowed down the butterflies which quickly took flight in your stomach as you watched the two figures stumble towards your Honda, the taller of the two lending you a small smile as he slotted your brother into the front seat. You kept your composure right up until he closed the front door, and then you sped all the way home with your heart racing and your blood pumping.

“Some people are just allergic to receiving help,” Stacie announces, yelling a little over the screeching of the karaoke mics. She’s rambling to one of Mark’s coworkers – Hal? Sal? – about one of her co-workers, some new kid fresh from college who can’t work the printer by himself and refuses to let her show him.

You’re about to get up for a refill when a weight slides onto the couch by your side, nudging you with a sweatered elbow.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he mutters, and when you turn, your breath catches at the sight of those familiar green eyes and flicks of brown hair.

“Hey,” you reply, fingers awkwardly lifting to tuck some hair behind your ear. You feel a heat flush into your cheeks and pray it doesn’t show in an embarrassing dewy glow to Jim. “Cool party. Karaoke’s a nice touch.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, giving you his signature smirk. His voice is so deep, a little husky even, as he sits close, “It’s an easy way to keep the guests entertained without me having to do much of anything, or your brother, for that matter.”

You hum in response, reluctantly annoyed that Mark is already at the front of his mind when he sees you. “Are you still working that paper job?”, you ask, raising an eyebrow and hoping that your nerves don’t come across, that he’ll simply consider you as flirty to everyone if your attempts don’t land.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding, picking at the label of his beer bottle for a moment.

“Salesman of the year?”

“Well,” he chuckles, his head tilting to the side, a little unsure, “Maybe sometimes.” Is he embarrassed? Shy? You watch his eyes as they flicker up and scan the room. “What are you up to these days?”, he asks when his eyes land back on you, flaring open for a split second before they settle on yours.

“You know,” you shrug, eyes looping once around the room, “Working, the usual.” You feel your chest tighten with an urge to come up with something more fucking interesting than work. Your fingers hooked behind your ear again, you sputter, “Got my hair done last week.”

Jim smiles, reassuringly so. “Yeah,” he says, nodding, “I can tell. It looks good. I like the, uh –”, he points a little haphazardly, “The way you styled it. Suits you.”

“Thanks,” your cheeks swell in a genuine smile, averting his gaze as the compliment seeps into your skin. You twirl the stem of your glass in your fingers, and Jim knocks a knuckle against the rim.

“You need a top up?”, he asks, standing up.

“Yeah, actually,” you reply, taking his hand when he offers it and pulling yourself to your feet.

You follow him through to the kitchen, dodging the erratic arm movements of some guy chittering to Mark about stocks, and over to the fridge. You lean your hip against the counter, watching as Jim carefully refills your wine and slides it back across to you.

You take a tentative sip under his watchful gaze, and raise your eyebrows, nodding subtly in approval as you swallow, “This is pretty good. What’s a guy like you doing with decent wine in his fridge?”

He lets out a nervous laugh and looks around, takes a sip of the glass he poured himself. “I actually got it for a, uh- a date, a couple weeks ago,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks, looking out through the dining room, “She said it was good so I figured I’d get some for tonight.”

Oof. A tinge of jealousy makes your stomach curl, and you take another large sip, forcing it down as you think of what to say. You can still hear the out of tune melodies from the living room, though the silence between you and Jim drowns out the noise. “What did you do?”, you ask, hoping you can mask your jealousy with a sneaky tone.

“Took her to dinner a few times, walked around a bit, came back here and had some wine.”

You want to gag, just a little bit. “And how come she’s not here tonight then?”

“Didn’t really, uh– didn’t really work out, so…”

“So you’re just sitting here day in and day out with her wine in the fridge, waiting for her to come back?”

Jim breathes a laugh, pushing the air from his cheeks, “Alright. Wow. That one stung.”

You giggle, taking a step closer, “I’m just messing with you,” you say into your glass. Each splash of alcohol over your tongue filling you with more courage.

He tilts his head, eyebrows cocked, “Tell me about your love life, then, up on your high horse.”

You stifle another girlish giggle, using it to mask your reaction to the awkward question. Your love life – if you could even call it that – has been even more miserable than Jim’s sounds. Messages left on read, painful first dates with jocks still stuck in their high school eras, with uptight career men who only cared to talk about themselves, or with guys who had weird hobbies and left you to pay the bill for a date they asked you on.

You’ve gotten good at avoiding the topic with your mom, turning it instead into conversation about Mark and Stacie, framing it into a question of, When are they thinking of getting married? Having kids of their own, right, Mom?, but standing in front of the one guy you’ve been shamelessly crushing on since you were ten years old – it becomes a little harder to divert.

“Uh,” you mumble, the rim of your glass balanced on your bottom lip, “I’m – I’m just taking some time to myself right now, you know? Focusing on me.”

He grins, almost gleeful. Electricity pulses through your veins. “Nice save,” he tells you, tipping his glass towards you, “I hear what you’re really saying.”

“Oh?”

“Yep,” he says, matter-of-factly, “You also got dumped at Red Lobster.”

You snort, then apologize, closing your eyes and trying to stifle your grin as you try to collect yourself. “Red lobster,” you clear your throat, “That’s pretty bad. At least it wasn’t Chili’s. And I would know, cause I got dumped at Chili’s.”

The two of you keep it together for a few moments, looking at the floor, until you meet each other’s eyes and burst into laughter, having this absolutely pathetic little thing in common. The sound of his laugh makes your chest flutter, the sight of his smile and his hand running through his hair. He wipes the tears from his eyes as he looks at you, and you bite the tip of your tongue, trying to halt the uncontrollable giggles that make your stomach hurt.

When you’re composed, a couple more swigs of wine down your throat, you settle back against the counter and say, “So. When’s the tour leaving?”

Jim’s eyebrows lift, “The tour?”

You nod, “House tour. Mark hasn’t shown me around yet. The most I’ve seen is your downstairs bathroom.”

He scoffs. Pushes off from the counter, the wine in his glass splashing, “He’s a terrible host. C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

Your heels click along the tile floor as you squeeze between bodies, heading for the hallway where Jim pauses. “Bathroom,” he says, nodding to the door right by the stairs, “But you already knew that.” He steps back against the wall at the first step, holding a hand out to usher you up first. “Ladies first,” he says, smiling genially.

You snort, but waltz by his body, holding onto the handrail as you climb the stairs carefully, the alcohol mixed with your shoe choice making it a dangerous feat. Jim’s close behind, footsteps slowly echoing your own, and you can’t help but think of the tight, short skirt of your dress, the way it hugs your thighs, the placement of his gaze as he wanders up behind you.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you look around at the assortment of doors, waiting for Jim to tell you which room serves as the first stop. You can sense him right behind you, slightly to your side, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him looking down at you, swallowing slowly. “Mark’s room,” he says, nodding to the right and waiting until you look up at him before he takes a step over and opens the door. He lets you peek inside, look around until you nod and step back, before he urges you forward, towards another door.

“Upstairs bathroom,” he remarks, and you give the room a similar examination, noticing the streak-free mirror.

“Looks… clean,” you say, as if there’s anything better to say about a typical bathroom. He gives a muttered thanks in return, then points to the last door.

“And that’s my room.”

“May I?”, you grin, then step fully inside, looking around at his bed, his dresser, and finally, his desk. You sit down in the office chair and give it a test spin, before your attention is caught by the art on the wall. “What’s this?”, you ask, while he steps in as well, hesitating for a second as he looks at the door, opting to leave it open before he comes over and sits down on his bed.

Jim’s head wobbles as he searches for an answer. “It’s – well, it’s – you know. It’s…a print that I…liked.”

“You have no idea, do you?”

“Not a clue,” he responds, quick as a bullet. “I saw it at a yard sale – thought it went with the colors of my bedsheets. That’s how interior design works, right?”

You smile, “Sure. You’re no Stacie, but – sure.”

Jim nods. Your eye is drawn to the dip in the bed where he sits, the weight of his wide frame on the mattress. His open thighs, his elbows resting on his knees, wine swirling as he slowly rocks the glass. He slowly lifts it to his lips, taking a sip without breaking your stare.

You cross your legs by instinct. Your skirt rides a little higher. Jim glances down, and then straight back up. You can feel your blood thrumming through every limb, every part of your body sensitized and alight. It doesn’t help any when he stands from the bed and wanders over, towering over you as he looks at something on the desk.

He reaches over your shoulder, and you can smell his cologne on his sweater, sharp and fresh, a hint of something sweeter. He pulls a photo frame from the shelf behind you and turns it around.

“Graduation,” he says, and your eyes are drawn down to the cheesy grins of him and your brother, donned in black mortarboards and sweeping gowns.

You nod, pretending you’re paying attention. But he’s so close that his jeans rub against your bare legs, so close that you’re staring up just to meet his eye. Your palms begin to perspire, his voice turning into a blur as he points to a couple other frames, photos of people you didn’t recognize in places you couldn’t quite place. The rest of your wine is downed in a single sip, the glass carefully placed behind you, on the surface of his desk.

Jim seems to have finished recounting memories to you, but he doesn’t move. Stays stood over you, his own drink forgotten on the floor by his bed. A silence falls between you – but not the thick, awkward kind of silence you’re used to around guys. It’s lighter, it’s breathable. It swirls around your limbs like the fluttering feeling in your belly, wraps tightly around them and pushes you to your feet, the back of Jim’s chair rocking against his desk.

You’re eye-to-eye, your chest pushing gently against his. He glances down to your lips, wet with wine and the dabbing of your tongue, and then back up. He leans in, curving around your shoulders to set the photo frame still in his hand back on the desk. When he straightens up again, your hands find his chest.

You stare at one another, seemingly a thousand words exchanged between your soft, drunken gaze and his – and yet, none of them pass your lips. There’s a weight on your waist – Jim’s hands either side of your body, squeezing the tight fabric of your dress. You tilt your head, moving closer, lips parting. And he leans in.

He kisses you, slow at first. Your hands lift to cup his jaw, steady yourself on the weight of him. All of your past selves begin to bubble to the surface, each one lighting your skin, pulling on every nerve. Jim feels warm, his lips wet and sweet from the alcohol. Your nails sift through his hair, tugging gently as he pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth. He groans lightly, seemingly as hungry for you as you are for him, holding himself back, handling you with a care and gentleness you hope he might set aside. You’ve wanted him for so long and you’ll let him do anything, you want all of him, you want him to ravage you and fuck you until you stumble down the staircase and until you can never look your brother in the eyes.

There’s a smashing sound from downstairs and a squeal, followed by a chorus of disappointment from the other guests. It splits the two of you apart, bumping teeth as your lips disconnect. You’re both panting, hot breath occupying the space between you. You can feel the hardness of his bulge pushing against you, and your arousal building, spreading to the tips of your breasts as your nipples harden. He’s huge, you can already tell, and you swallow around a lump in your throat, trying not to think of how long it’s been since you felt a man inside of you.

Jim smiles, still holding you close to his body. Your hands wrap around his wrists, and you lean into him again to whisper, “I think we should close the door.”

He nods, and steps back to let you by. You close the door slowly, letting it thud into place as quiet as you can, despite the obvious chaos happening downstairs. When you step back towards him, his eyes are on yours, hands reaching out to pull you closer, one around your waist and one around the nape of your neck, letting you melt into his hold while he locks his lips with yours. You hope he can’t feel the rapid beating of your heart or the dampness of your skin, letting your hands fall to the edge of his pants and starting to fumble with the button.

You start to unzip his jeans while he walks you back towards his bed, licking into your mouth and nibbling on your lower lip. You slip a hand down over his clothed cock, carefully palming it and feeling the girth and contours against your skin. He lets out a slight grunt at your touch, moving his hand down to squeeze your ass cheek through your dress, his large hand grabbing your flesh and kneading it with the aggression you’ve been hoping for, just a hint of it coming through in the firmness of his grasp.

He reaches the bed as you draw your hand out of his pants and dip your fingers behind his waistband, feeling the goosebumps spreading across his skin, grabbing hold of the stretchy fabric and lifting it up, over his erection, pulling it down alongside his pants to see his cock hanging free, flushed and wet at the tip. You bite his lip before you pull back to look, and can’t help a whimper escaping your throat as you brush your fingertips along his length. It feels endless, long veins bulging out that you trace with your nails. He's so thick, wide at the root, all the way to the tip. He can't possibly fit inside but you clench at the thought of him trying. Another pearly bead of precome spills out from his slit at your touch, and with his hands still grasping your neck and the meat of your ass, you gently rub the pad of your thumb over this head, feeling the slick slide of his spend beneath your finger, then wrap your hand around him, fingertips not even close to meeting, and stroke him slowly.

Your breaths are shallow, rapid, and when you feel your mouth start to water at the sight of his cock sliding through your hand, Jim pulls you back in to kiss you, grunting and groaning while your hand slides rhythmically up and down, making him throb with arousal. He moves his hips, fucking into your grasp with hushed moans that send your head spinning, your cunt pulsing.

Jim begins to peel the dress from your shoulders, slipping the fabric down until your breasts are exposed, the chilly edge of the air hardening your nipple. He pauses, watches the rhythmic movements of your soft, supple tits as your hand pumps up and down, the rise and fall of your chest with each breath. His fingers dig deep beneath the ruffled fabric, tugging it lower and lower until he’s lifting your hips, disturbing the lace of your panties as he discards the dress to the floor.

You pause as he strips the sweater from his shoulders, tossing it to some corner of the room before he’s back on you, the slick tip of his dick leaving sticky trails on your lower stomach.

“You’re so, so good at that,” he murmurs against your lips, sentence broken in two by another hot, wet kiss. Your eyes roll at the taste of him, the strength of his tongue against yours, the hunger with which he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and sucks, letting it go only to fill your mouth with himself again. You push at the edge of his jeans and boxers, bunching them up in your hands and tugging at them until he takes over, bringing you with him while he takes them off, leaving him bare and you in only your little scrap of fabric you call your panties.

He pulls you in as he sits down on the bed, placing you on his lap, letting you wind your hips, dragging the silky lace of your thong up along his hard length while you lick across his tongue, while you swallow his saliva and feel the ridges of his cock bumping against your clit. At the sound of your whimpers, he picks you up in his arms, lays you down on his bed, and settles between your legs, leaving wet kisses up and down your neck, trailing down to your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth and licking it slowly. Your back arches, the slick of your arousal beginning to seep out into the panties he teases with his fingers, hooking them under the thin straps and slowly pulling at them as his lips trail down between your tits, slowly over your stomach, reaching the very top of your mound before he drags the straps over your thighs to reveal you for him.

You open your legs and Jim presses into the underside of your thighs, pushing them wider. His eyes focus on the sight of you, spread open in front of him, his tongue lifting to run along his lips. You sit up on your elbows, glossy eyes watching as he leans in, a trail of kisses dotted along the seam of your thigh, until his lips are hovering over your throbbing cunt.

“Jim,” you whisper, sifting your fingers through his hair, moving it from his face.

He looks up and you share a glance, a message sent wordlessly from your eyes to his. A smirk pulls across his lips, reading your mind instantly. He lowers his jaw and his tongue drags a long, soaking stripe up your slit.

Your grip tightens in his hair, head thrown back to the blue sheets. Your throat catches a lewd moan before it has a chance to cut through the air, exposing you both to the guests downstairs. Sorry, you whisper, but he shakes his head. “You don't have to be quiet,” he reassures, leaving his gaze on you as he leans back and gives your clit a few wet licks, kicking up your sensitivity and making you clench. He must be able to tell, because just as you tilt your head back into the pillow while he kisses and licks at the part of you most sensitive and needy for his attention, he pushes two fingers into your pussy, stretching you gently as he curls them. He presses into a spot so tender you can't catch the moans spilling out between your lips, begging for more when you're already so close, having fantasized about this for years – his tongue on your clit and his fingers inside of you, softening you for the inevitable stretch of his cock, so much thicker and longer than you could imagine, big and hard and bound to let you feel him tomorrow.

He begins to suckle, swirling his tongue until you grip his hair and moan that you're close, so close, and he releases you from his mouth, still sliding his fingers slowly in and out, moving to place kisses to the inside of your thigh. You let out a huff, and hear a faint chuckle from between your legs, licking and kissing at your skin, right beside your outer folds, close to where you need him.

Another wave of arousal crashes through you when he makes contact with your clit again, a wet drag of his tongue making you whimper and pull at his hair harder, trying to keep him right where he is until he lets you come. Jim pulls around your clit, lips sucking and tongue flicking as his fingers pump in and out, winding your orgasm like the tide withdrawing, only to let it crash forward in a flood of pleasure.

Your back arches, breath freezes to nothing in your throat until your climax passes, washing over you in heavy, shuddering ripples. You pant, your chest heaving as you look down at the smile on his face, the evidence of your satisfaction glistening on his lips.

Jim pushes himself up from the mattress, knees planting firm between your open legs, fisting his cock over you. You blink the room back into focus slowly, feeling the bed dip by your ear. He settles on top of you, looking down to guide his cock to your needy and spent sex. His tip presses against your hole, sensitive and soaking, and he glances back up.

“Jim?”, you whisper, chest heaving when you feel the subtle intrusion at your opening.

“Yeah?”

“I want you inside me, I want you to fuck me.”

Mhmm, he teases the tip around your entrance, lets the thick head of him slide up to your clit before he glides back down, gently pushing in, a tiny little bit of pressure, not enough to make you wince but groan instead, hating and loving how he teases you. Another push, his tip lodged inside, stretching you open further than you thought possible, while your pussy drools down his shaft, sucking him in and covering him in your wetness. He grunts quietly, not immune to the wet, warm clutch he’s sinking into, inch by inch, while you wrap your hands around his jaw, looking into his bright green eyes, lids hooded, breaking the eye contact to glance down at where he enters you, letting out a breathy moan when you suck him all the way in and he reaches your cervix. He hisses when he retracts, gliding out so slowly, covered in your shiny slick.

You arch your back when he reaches the end of you again, leaning down onto his elbows so his lips can press into your neck, kissing you like he has all the time in the world, little licks to your skin while he glides out and presses back into you, letting you adjust to his size, making space for himself and soothing you as you’re overwhelmed by him. Your legs come to wrap around his waist, tilting your hips slightly upward to let him reach deeper, moaning his name and incoherent curses, grabbing the back of his neck and his broad shoulders, feeling your clit rub against his pelvis, bringing you closer so slowly you barely notice it happening.

You lower your arms, slipping your hands under his and lacing your fingers. Your knees bend, resting against his ribcage. With each brush of his hair against your clit, he moves faster, thrusting harder, pushing deeper. Tiny yelps leave your mouth the more he fucks you, the more the bed rocks, the headboard knocking against the wall. Your head turns, moaning delicately into his ear as he sucks on your skin.

“I know,” he whispers against your pulse, “You feel so good, sweetheart. So tight around me.”

“Jim,” you’re whining, gasping for air each time he pushes all the way in. You let go of your grip on him and drape your arms over his shoulders, fingers toying with his hair, slowly dampening with sweat. Each glide of his cock inside you ends with a sweet bite of pain, his tip hammering roughly into the edge of your cunt.

His teeth graze the sensitive skin below your jaw, leaving behind marks you’re silently hoping will still be visible in the morning. His hands travel downward, taking hold of your waist and lifting you up to his body like you weigh nothing at all.

“Here,” he says, slipping out of you, thick white thread dribbling between your pussy and his cock. He motions for you to sit up, beckoning you with a flick of his fingers. “Come here, put your feet on my calves.” You oblige, planting each foot behind his thighs as he kneels. “Now lay down, just relax,” he coos, wrapping both hands around your waist to pull you up into a bridge, letting you dip your shoulder blades onto the sheets. He lifts one hand away from your side and guides his cock back into you, giving a few slow strokes with his palm, pushing gently on your stomach.

Then his hands grip your hips tightly, he pulls you back onto him and gives you a moment to stabilize before he fucks into you even deeper than before. Your tits slide up and down your chest with every single one of this deep thrusts, and you watch his eyes as they stay glued to your body, his mouth hanging open, panting, grunting, digging his fingers into your flesh, trying to hold back while you squirm and writhe, moaning and whimpering, not giving a fuck who might hear it, trying to keep his name out of your mouth in case someone needs to use the bathroom next door.

He pounds into you, hitting the softest, most tender spot inside of your body, your head rolls back on his pillow, tiptoeing the line between pain and pleasure, feeling him in your stomach. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, fuck, fuck,” the words are forced out of you just as a warm stream of liquid squirts out of you, drenching his groin and making him groan. Your orgasm is so intense you nearly howl, feeling more and more of your arousal dripping down his shaft and spurting onto his pelvis, soaking the sheets beneath you, getting wet and sticky with your come and his sweat, watching his hair stick to his forehead while he continues to fuck you, needing every last drop of your climax.

You’re fucking spent, but he won’t relent quite yet, flipping you over and onto all fours, yanking you back by your hips. He enters you from behind and you groan in satisfaction, needing him right there, just like that, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head. His hand twists in your hair, wrapping it around his palm and tugging at it while he grunts, rough and loud in your ear, nearly drowned out by the lewd smacking of your ass against his hips.

Your hand dips between your legs, fingers rubbing messy circles around your swollen clit, thinking how many times you’ve dreamt of this exact scenario with your fingers buried inside, bringing yourself to the brink of orgasm by the mere thought of Jim. And now, feeling him, the tug on your hair, the ache between your legs, the hoarse cries jumping from your throat.

“Not gonna last much longer,” Jim grunts, wet slaps cutting between his words, “Fuck, sweetheart, that feel good?”

“Yes, Jim,” you whine, your hand jerking with each meeting of his hips on your ass. Come dribbles down the seam of your thigh as you feel your second high begin to wind, white heat flooding downwards. “So – fucking – good. Ah, I want you to come inside me.”

“You sure?”, he pants, holding on by a thread.

“Yeah, I – I’m on the pill.”

Jim pulls you upright by the hair, flush against his stomach, and places his hand over yours to rub your clit together. You lean your head back against his shoulder, body freezing as you come for him again. He groans when you pinch around him, movements becoming sloppy.

“Oh – oh, fuck, I’m – I’m coming, I’m coming,” he moans, lips pushing hard into your neck as he twitches and then stills, and you feel the warm spurts of his come deep inside. The two of you groan, strangled and drawn out, collapsing on the bed with his arms around you and his cock softening inside. You listen to the sounds of the party downstairs, the two of you trying to catch your breaths, and he kisses along the back of your shoulder, brushing his thumb back and forth where it rests over your waist.

“What are we gonna tell Mark?”, he asks.

You pause for a beat, then turn your head to him, “We’re telling Mark?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve wanted it, I’ve wanted it. I don’t want this to be a one time thing, I want it to be more than that, so at some point–”.

“More than what?”, you respond, your heartbeat returning to its heightened state earlier in the night.

“More than just sex.”

“Oh.”

“I’m really into you,” he whispers, “I didn’t know if you felt the same way about me but it seems like you do, so–”.

You shift around to face him, push his sweat damp locks away from his face and look into his eyes. Shy heat floods your face as you smile at him and nod carefully, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You wanna go back downstairs?” he asks, fingertips ghosting down your spine before he reaches your thigh and hooks your knee over his leg, “We have Islands in the Stream on the karaoke machine, I know you like that song.”

“Sure… In a bit.”

#jim halpert x reader #jim halpert imagine #jim halpert fic #jim halpert fanfic #the office fanfiction #jim halpert

894 notes · View notes

rustedhearts · 6 months

Text

on the mat (boxer!steve harrington x fem!librarian reader)

summary: steve tries to teach you a few boxing lessons in the ring, but ends up (re)learning a thing or two about you instead.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1993) ✶ main masterlist

tags: the return of casually dominant!steve; play fighting? i guess?; smut (fingering); slight humiliation kink?; finger sucking.

october 24th, 1993

The gym sat in a stiff, sticky heat. A palpable humidity settled in your body, bloating with exertion and frustration and just a little too much humiliation for your liking. Beneath a pair of padded, pink leather boxing gloves, your fingers were sore and tired, slick with sweat from hours confined. They sat now balled up on your hips, chest rising and falling in heavy huffs beneath a soaked-thin sports bra.

And there Steve stood across the ring, shiny and pink-less, grinning like he'd been given a lollypop. Your eyes narrowed into slits, lips drying with thirst. A burn gathered in your chest a few minutes ago, and now every inhale felt like sucking on fire.

"Ah, come on, angel," he cooed, shaking his hand out of one glove to free his fingers and push back his drenched hair. "You're doin' so good."

Somehow, a few hours ago, Steve roped you into training with him. He'd been begging to teach you how to properly box since you started dating, and somehow, he finally convinced you. It was just as exhausting and demanding as you thought it would be, and now you were dripping buckets and making a fool of yourself in front of the man you loved. It was tiresome and humiliating, and you wanted it to be over the minute it started.

"Then I say we call it a day," you huffed.

Wiggling his swollen hand back into the weathered gloves, Steve shook his head and cocked a sideways grin. "I don't think so, sweetheart—"

"Steve," you whined, foot stomping. "Come onnnn."

His shoulders quaked with laughter, and the pinched glare you had on your face morphed into a weepy pout. Steve pulled at the laces of his glove with his teeth until they were well enough taut to stay put, sneakers scuffing over the mat as he headed your way.

The gym was closed on Sundays, so you had the place entirely to yourself—it was easy for Steve to pull strings and get his way. With the amount of championships he'd won over the past few years, Steve could get away with just about anything these days. Endorsements and companies hoping for brand deals kissed his ass just for a chance at conversation. So, if Steve Harrington wanted a private gym for a training session with his girlfriend, he'd get it.

But that left you entirely at his mercy.

Steve brought his puffy, gloved fists to your arms, tugging you close. Lip jutted and eyes down-pointed, you opted to huff and puff at the ground instead of meeting his eye like you knew he wanted. He brought a fist to your chin, kicking it up gently.

"Sweetheart," he chuckled. "C'mon, don't be a baby."

"M' not bein' a baby," you grumbled, jerking your chin away.

Another smile toyed on his lips. "No?"

"No."

Steve replaced his touch under your chin, urging your head back where he wanted. His touch smelled like leather and the salty musk of sweat, and every spent and frazzled nerve in your body sparked with arousal like severed wires in an electric rainstorm. You inhaled sharply, following his guiding touch until you caught sight of his strong chin.

"Gimme a kiss, angel."

The roll of your eyes was entirely theatrical, because the gruff sound of his voice rumbling through you had you squirming. But it was so easy to give into Steve—sometimes, you liked to make him wait a little. Sometimes, you wanted his voice to drop from that soft, fluffy coo and dip into something dark and firm.

Steve bent his neck, leaning toward your mouth. You turned your head. In your periphery, the delicacy of his features congealed like spoiled milk—narrowed brows and hard eyes. The yellow spotlights above the ring blazed down like sunlight, singing your skin with unforgivable heat.

"Hey." Steve flicked your head back with his glove against your cheek. "Give me. A kiss."

You fell into his touch, but when you inched forward on the tops of your new Reeboks, your mouth merely grazed. Brushed against his lips in a soft, chaste kiss. When you sank back to your height, Steve's chuckle was sharp and huffed through his nose. He dropped his hand from your face and stepped back.

"Back in position."

Groaning, you let your arms drop limply at your sides. "Steve—"

"Now," he barked, voice clanging off the walls like metal.

You jolted, trudging toward the center of the ring with a grumpy, nonsensical grumble of disagreement. Steve shook his head as he headed toward the corner, pulling at the laces of his gloves with his teeth until they smacked against the mat. He fumbled in his gym bag, pulling out the flat pads meant for throwing jabs. When they were snug around his hands, he stood to his full height and sauntered toward you.

Wordlessly, Steve assumed a firm stance and held out the pads out in front of him, biceps veined and bulging. His eyes bored into you over the top of the black leather, void and heavily-lidded. You sighed, arms limp and buzzing.

You lifted your right fist and let it tap the left pad weakly. It barely made a sound. Steve shook his head again, slow and steady, but still he didn't admonish you. You tried again with the left fist, tapping just a little harder on the right pad.

"Pathetic."

Your eyes snapped over, breath hitching. "What?"

Steve hadn't moved an inch, breath sure and steady. "I said, pathetic."

Your stomach grappled, a new wave of heat singing your cheeks. “I-I’m not—“

“So hit me like you fucking mean it.”

Though foggy with exhaustion and void of any semblance of desire to put any sort of effort into this, the way Steve’s voice sliced around his command made your insides surge. Pathetic.

You’d show him pathetic.

It shot out before you could truly control it: your first careening into the pad, striking Steve’s hand with vigor. The smack was sharp and acute, and delight burst his pupil to dilation.

Your fist buzzed in the glove, slick with sweat and swollen from work, but it felt…good. It felt good to hit, and it felt good to watch pride swell in Steve’s gaze because of something you’d done.

His lips parted to speak, breath short and clipped with intention to speak, but you beat him to it. Another hit to the glove—a swift jab, knocking him off kilter. He wavered a moment, then steadied. His eyes bored into you like he’d just seen you for the first time. And maybe he had.

You tore at the velcro of your gloves with your teeth, shaking the leather off. Every part of your body felt like it was convulsing. You could barely see straight, and everything came with a haloed glow. You shuffled back toward the edge of the ring.

“Where y’ goin’, angel?” Steve asked, inching forward.

Huffing, you tossed your gloves on the mat and glared at him. “To change. I want to go home.”

Steve took another step forward, following every move backward like the pair of you were tethered together. “We’re not done here.”

Hands on your hips, you sliced him with a look meant to kill. “Yes, we are.”

You turned then, eyes set on the locker room door across the gym. You barely got a toe toward the edge of the ring before Steve had you by the arm. Somehow, the pads were on the floor again, and Steve’s most lethal weapons were out to play.

“Hey! Steve, don’t—“

You pushed him. He tugged you closer. You gaped at him, at his display of audacity. You pushed again, a firm palm to a firmer chest. He let go. You turned again, but this time, he had you by the waist. Anchoring you, pulling you back. You planted your heels and resisted with all your might, grunting and mewling for release. But Steve’s hold was inescapable.

It tugged you to the mat, weighing you down until the pair of you slipped and ended flat in the ring. A pair of limbs scrambling and tangling, knotting together between huffs and groans. He flipped you over onto your back, and you kicked at his hips with the heels of your feet until it gave you an inch up. Twisting and churning, clawing with your hands. What the hell were you doing? You had no idea, but your body was on fire and you couldn’t breathe—and it all felt so good.

With all the writhing and tumbling, you found your way toward the edge of the ring. You wrapped your fingers around the lowest rope, teeth gritted with exertion as you pulled. But Steve was down on you, heavy and full of cords of taut muscle that you were no match for. And even without the weight of him, he still had his hands.

“Nah, nah,” he huffed, a chuckle airing through his nose as he watched your fingers tremble around the rope. “You’re not goin’ anywhere.”

Your hand slammed against the mat, caged in his own crushing your fingers in his palm. It was then that you decided to give up on your fight. Pinned by his body, inhaling his exhales, licking beads of sweat as they dripped into your mouth. His hair coiled over his brow, tickling his lashes. His upper lip snarled into a smile, and with his big, hulking form between your legs, you suddenly forgot all about how tired you were and just why you ever wanted to get away.

Like Steve said, you weren’t going anywhere.

Keeping you stationary with his hand around your wrist, kept above your head and off the side, Steve made quick work of the ties on your shorts. Pulling their knot loose, yanking the band down your hips. He pressed the pad of two fingers into your damp, sticky panties over your crotch, and when you shuddered in a gasp, he chuckled again.

“God, you still like it so tough, huh?” He pressed a little harder, rubbed small circles into your clothed nub.

His breath tickled your face with every word spat out. “Pretend you’re so sweet and shy. But you, honey…you like to be fucked. Mean.”

The rubbing burned against the friction of your damp panty fabric and Steve’s fingers. His touch stung, like it always did. And the light in his eyes was one of fiery delight and wonderment. Absolute desire, lapping its forked, devil tongue between the pair of you. You released a sweeping breath, face creased with anguishing pleasure.

Steve rummaged the surface of your face, glowing like a jewel with salty dampness. You rose and fell with such shallow, struggled breaths that he was certain you’d run out of air.

He fell down on his arm a little, nose brushing your nose. “Tell me,” he whispered, voice an echo in your fuzzy, sloshing thoughts. “Tell me you like me mean.”

You choked, air catching in your throat. Right in the middle, where your heart sat waiting, and pulsing. “I-I…I…”

His lip curled again, nose scrunching to follow the crude expression of a growl. “I think you love it, don’t you? C’mon, tell me you love it.”

Oh, the sound of his voice, sweetened with mockery and seasoned with humiliation. He rubbed a little faster, enjoying the tremble of your thighs. Your body was rippling.

“I-I,” you gasped, fingers curling into a fist above your head. “I…Oh, Steve—p-please!”

“Tell me you love it,” he bit, teeth snapping at your mouth.

“Oh,” you howled, bucking into his touch. He pushed the cotton aside and let his fingers breach the bare warmth, and now you were certainly a puddly mess. He prodded at your hole with a spongy touch.

“You love it,” he coaxed, the sound of his voice nearly hypnotic now.

Convincing you, telling you, promising you. You loved it.

“I love it!”

With your confession, he plunged in. His fingers buried themselves inside you until he caught resistance, watching you jerk upward and hold tight, breath bubbled in your throat and swollen in your chest. The veins in your neck scraped their way toward your jaw, protruding without air. He curled his fingers just a little, watched you twist a little to the left. Like some sort of woman possessed.

He gently rocked his fingers in and out, each time nudging that little spot inside you that grew sore and hungry. You caught your breath when he kissed your mouth, releasing it between his lips sealed over yours.

“I love it,” you murmured again, vision spotted and streaked. “I do, I do, I do.”

He clamped your babbles with more wet kisses. Silent reassurances. Gentle and full-mouthed, absent of tongue and just breath, transferred between one pair of lips to the other. Your chin tipped upward to follow them, chasing after more pecks. Steve pulled away just far enough to find amusement in your suffering.

"You'll get a kiss," he murmured, too soft for his cruelty. "When you gimme what I want."

And when you cinched your brows together with feigned confusion, Steve tipped his head a little toward the light haloing behind him, beaconing from the gunmetal roof. The slightest arch of a brow, the knowing narrow of a pair of whiskey-colored eyes flecked with sage.

"You know what I want," he rasped.

Heart hammering hard against your ribs, flesh singing with stimulation, bones droning with desire—all you could manage was a nod.

He wanted what he always wanted—all of you.

One more gentle prod, fingers goading against the swollen, fleshy tissue pulsing deep inside you. One more kiss to the underside of your jaw, lips cradling the pulse point below your right ear. One more squeeze of your wrist in his big hand, thumb into a mass of uneasy muscle fluttering with life punctured by the teeth of his love.

Orgasmic euphoria erupted into bursts of color. Crimson red like the blood Steve shed. Cognac brown like the bits of his eyes illuminated only in direct light. Black as the color of his love, bruised without mercy.

Tiny, pitiful whimpers pipped out of you in short successions. Steve quieted them with more kisses, just as promised. He slipped his fingers from your quivering cunt with caution, parted lips gliding wetly across your cheek from their place on your mouth, smearing hot breaths and spit.

"Open," he whispered, though when his fingers came to your lips, they were already ajar and releasing pants.

You sucked them clean, blinking blearily as he fell into your neck, equally as spent by his exertions. His fingers coasted down your arm as they left your wrist, releasing your binds. You shivered absently when they slid against your ribs, pressing into the curve of your waist.

"I still wanna fuck," Steve huffed, nosing at your neck where the perfume you applied hours ago faded with sweat. "But gotta lie down first."

Giggling, you kissed the wetness of his hairline etched above his temple lazily. "Me too."

"Well yeah, I rocked your world."

585 notes · View notes

astralnymphh · 7 months

Text

veiled affections ⚝ | ellie williams

☆࿐-ˊˎ farm!ellie x fem!reader

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

AN: quick little smut to hold me off before i work on a bigger project/series fic!! more casual and less proofread like my last one but still pretty good ifya ask me <3

tags/cw: NSFW!! SMUT!! 18+ MDNI, usual playful bickering, one second of cuddiling, poetic ahh writing, very mild foreplay, hella dirty talk, lotsa swearing, oral (receiving) spitting, clit stim (receiving), petnames (babe, baby, good girl)

WC: 2k+

designated song: stargirl interlude - the weekend & lana del rey

synopsis; swept under your fossil gray wool blanket, a body deprived of slumber and living the effects of back-bending chores all around the farmhouse has you fatigued and yearning to supply the last ounce of energy with a bit of literature. eventually, ellie will set that book on rain check, and your fatigue, ..and her boredom. honestly, she'll definitely be the one to steal your energy instead of the book.

radiance incarnate is what lies behind the glass pane just ahead of your bed-post. lunar light outstanding the dark night, never lacking a few stars that flecked the sky above the nocturnal forest, at least what you could perceive through a regular sized window. fusing with the comfortability of your mattress and cloaked in a warm wool blanket makes for a nice end-of-the-day reward while you immerse yourself in the realm of 'the odyssey'. ellie's not in bed. not in the room. she's presumably downstairs finishing up something, so not a clue of her coming is on your mind.

you wriggle around the soft bed altering your position to have one leg bent and the other draped over, the book upheld by the bulk of your thigh making it easier to flip through. page by page, word by word, space and time diminishes around you and is replaced by this entrancing world of mycenaean greece portraying the aegean sea. the room was dimly lit and still, minus the muted sounds of an owl and crickets chirping beyond the wooden walls. serenity lasts for a good half hour before an upsurge of hard rubber footsteps wake the floor by the bedroom door to the right of you.

"hey babe- ooh, what'cha reading?" ellie's voice grapples your focus to her profile, attired in her white shirt, grubby denim and converse that look like they've been dragged to hell.

"the odyssey." you respond as she begins to lurk closer, arms crossed.

she swipes her tongue across her lips, saying, "y'know.. savage starlight might be more.. fun to read?" in an obviously sarcastic note, creasing her brows together accompanying a brass smirk.

"to you, maybe. I actually enjoy this a lot." you cave the book over your chest, sitting like a roof, "you just don't have a mature taste."

"whadda'ya mean? comics are for everyone, and actually easy to understand." she clambers atop of your hips, descending her face upon you, "unlike the odyssey."

"pshh, the odyssey is a classic." you highlight.

"you're just mad that im right."

you pucker a pout, slowly lifting the book between your noses till ellie knocks it down plumb on your collarbone.

"ah-uh," she intently strikes spires into your eyes with her persuasive peer, narrowing those lids in an undeniably tantalizing way, "can't ignore this now."

"you're right." you spat out and divided the space with your book again.

"c'mon.." she prys the book from your limp grasp, leaving it astray to the bed adjacent to you, "I'm here now, aren't I?" a humbly intimate whisper croaks from her toothy grin.

you banish your sight to the headboard above, pondering the words that would wisp from your lips, "I have a few pages left, babe, then we'll do whatever.."

"mmk, 'gonna lay on you though." she giggles and shuffles along the length of you, interlacing your limbs together and smushing her cheek on your stomach. her arms swathe your hips and tuck underneath your butt.

the book diverged from your fingertips finds its way back, cuddled between your thumbs and eclipses ellie's head from your vision. your pupils root back to the muster of sentences lining the page, with a certain breath gusting onto your mildly exposed midriff.

a scant minute survives before a husk is heard, "mmph- so warm.." the tip of her nose drags on your skin as she faces downward, marking an indulgent smooch to your abdomen.

that brought a melliferous smile to draw out, instilled with admiration from her speckled kisses. it anchors your attention unwillingly when these kisses continue but you'd rather void it and tread on with reading as ellie treads on with a rampancy of taunting kisses. normally, this'd be blasé, but tonight, it's turning your tides.

ellie muffles, "wann' kiss every inch.." her nibbles subside in target of your navel, nuzzling on the pouch of your belly and biting your shorts' band, "fuck.."

"els."

"mhm?"

"what're up to?" the book slants down.

"you."

"elsies.."

"just showin' my love.." her tone airs up and turns raspy.

"I think it's more than that." you dig at her transparent peak in sensuality and prod her foot with yours.

ellie can't necessarily disprove this, she was blatantly horny but wanted to keep that 'under the covers' till you shared the feeling outwardly. a shameless smirk paints her mouth regardless, "y'know what I really wanna do?"

"what?"

a gnaw at her lower lip fracts the answer briefly, uttering, "I wanna eat your fucking pussy." and blunt she was, verdant eyes fastened to yours. she's so eager for you, clawing at your loins.

a shudder bolts the extent of your nerves and you clench around nothing but a throb at the contents of her question, visibly ruffled up by it, "babe.."

"can I?"

nary a gloom of doubt inhabits your mind, the way she's laying on your body, patient to taste you revs you up like a torrent of arousal. oh my fucking goddess. it's making you go wild.

"yes.."

"shit- m'kay, lemme just.." ellie wrinkles up the sheet in her fist, tossing it overhead till her head was obscured by it. the amber hue of her hair is subtle under the thin pearly sheet as she slithers down between the interstice of your thighs.

maybe the now carnal environment made it inconvenient to carry on with the perusal of your book, but you're elevating it back up from your sternum regardless. the vivid thought of her eating you out while you read is a bit elating, is it not?

ellie's cunning lips park at the epitome of your core, locking her biceps under your slack legs and dangling her still shoe-clad feet off the beds' brink.

"can't wait to see that beautiful fucking pussy.." her veiled voice has strings of raw ardor plucking in her throttle rippling onto your clothed entrance with a muggy pant on every word.

an unheard gulp passes through to the trench of your chest, sending out a reflex of sweet sensations to your pelvis, whimpering, "mhh- ellie.."

"shhhshhh.. i got'chu.."

she begins to pleat your panties over themselves and slip them off your legs, whizzing them away to some lifeless nook of the tucked-in sheets.

"fuck.. shit-" ellie heaves in awe, even day after day of seeing you bare, it's so titillating to her, drool is abandoning her lips.

the paragraphs living on the pages merge into an unintelligible blob as your vision drowses and the only sensation you can detect is her breath lathering your exposed slit. an open 'ptui' is heard prior to a wet glob landing on your clit and evoking a jolt from your body.

"so sensitive.." she pokes fun at your reaction, slapping her digits down on your sappy pussy and rubbing the spit through your folds, which to much avail, juts your body again.

"fck!" you hack out a swear at each writhe and prod.

"yeah, like that?"

the grip on your book tightens, causing it to tremor in your shaky hold.

"gonna taste so fuckin' good, mmh.." she murmurs to herself but you catch the gist since immediately after her lips envelop your clit and enlist deft torpedo laps to it.

a heap of pleasurous pricks throb in your cunt and garner a gentle mewl from your chords, whining, "gh- mhhhn.." tenderly in growing bliss.

ellie laps your clit in brisk flicks while sucking it up with noises similar to kissing resounding through the sheer fabric cascading over her head.

you observe the cover moving with every mild thrust of her head, creasing and shuffling with the halo of her hair. a hand prowls from the sheets' hem and searches for anywhere to rest, to which you beckon it to your breast.

she realizes this and gives it duo squeezes for good measure and her unemployed fingers knead the squishy flesh of your ass, all while smirking.

"mmhh~ I wanna see you.." you mumble into the whafted-shut book, knocking off the already sliding sheet with your knee to reveal a flushed ellie with her nose buried in your crotch, her pretty face poised between your thighs, stuffed in your cunt.

her irises hark this newfound horizon before her and diffuse an intense glare that shudders your soul, sinking her lips deeper into those parted folds and drinking up your sticky deluge.

her mouth disconnects with threads of saliva and slick following, "this pussy tastes s'fucking divine, you know that right?"

"y-yeah.."

"could go down n'you for breakfast, lunch n' dinner.. fuck- baby.."

ellie retreats her keen tongue, dipping into your entrance and soaking up the lewd coating of your walls. oral sounds of her mouth practically having a make-out sesh with your puffy lips overflow the room and bounce like an echo betwixt your ears.

"ohh my godd.." your moans enhance and amplify in the sea of ebbing relief and flowing pleasure.

her pecan speckled skin tinted with rose is glazed with a sinful slick from how far she pushed her face in, a terribly arousing sight to behold when she withdraws to praise her own work.

"how's m'pretty girl doing?"

"s-so.. closee.."

"want' you to moan my name when you do, yeah?"

"o-okay.."

"I wanna know how fuckin' good I make you feel." her sharp curses stay unyielding in her expression.

"mh-mhghmm.." your throat clogs up in anticipation.

ellie pours over your bare stature one last time before gripping the back of your knees and pushing them up till your feet meet the sky.

"that's better."

her lips smash into your cunt once again and prove to be frothing with a craving for you, clenched brows and grunting into your groin intently. she explores every attainable inch like she knows it, licking up your pre-cum like it's the last fucking meal on earth.

"oh- fuck!" you wail out, webbing your fingers in her frizzed up locks by habit.

her inhuman speeds catch you out of the blue, binding her tastebuds with your natural taste and delighted in every millisecond of it. she hoists onto her knees and hovers over your bottom half, wriggling her tongue over your entire opening and sending that abused clit into overdrive.

"el-ell.. ellie! i can't fucki- ah!" a high squeak blazes from your gullet.

she blurts out, "cum on m'fuckin' face." submerged in your folds.

"els.. mh!"

it's the end for you when she starts purposefully moaning on your bud, finally ushering your climax to dull your senses and numbfuck your consciousness. your reality is painted with a globe of starlight just by the heavenly feeling of it.

"good girl..-fck, there there..." ellies gingerly tone conflicts with her devilish play, drinking up the breach of cum gushing from your orgasm.

"oof.. jeez.." you recline your legs once her hands flee, huffing your way down from the celestial heavens.

ellie clambers up and collapses next to you, a smug and prideful visage staring back at your profile.

"did ya finish those pages?"

"erm, no."

she butts off a laugh, "eh, well.." her palm advances your bangs, hooking them behind the conch of your ear, "ended up having more fun, yeah?'

"i- yeah.. I guess.."

"you guess?"

"coulda been a lot better."

"whaaaat?" she mimicked an offended countenance.

"like it's nothing to write home about-"

"u're just trynna rile me up!"

"what if I am?" you boldy tease, tutting your skull side-to-side.

and that's ellie's one weakness, teasing. her brows hike, hollering "ohhh- I see how it is!" and rolls on top of you and thrusts her pelvis down with clear intention, "c'mere-"

"fhmm--" her willowy finger seals your lips, heeding the provocation you've cast into her mind.

"you're on."

⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆

hoep you enjoyed <3

749 notes · View notes

fallow-hollow · 9 days

Text

five stages of grief

…ft! kabru x gn! oblivious! reader

…tags! pining, confession, kabru is a bit of a freak about this, oblivious reader, reader is an adventurer

…word count! 2671

…notes! spreading my kabruganda to the masses!!! kabru is my me so I very much enjoy writing him

denial

At first, Kabru was so convinced that there was something behind your happy-go-lucky exterior.

You were so skilled in the dungeon, able to make it down to floors that even he hadn’t traversed yet. So you must have a good grasp on tactics, not only in battle, but also when socializing! Yes, maybe you read people expertly when they’d respond in kind to your friendly behavior…..

During the stage where you’re acquainted but don’t know much about each other personally, he spends so long crafting theories about what’s going on inside your head.

His party members get sick of hearing about it halfway through the second week.

Once you meet again in person, he’s ecstatic to have an opportunity to take a closer look at your inner workings. His words and mannerisms are calm and purposeful, but there is a certain spark in his eyes, almost trying to illuminate your thoughts and feelings with its shine.

Over the course of the conversation, Kabru starts getting a bit confused at his lack of new findings about you. It takes you saying something particularly damning for him to finally reach the dreaded conclusion.

“I don’t usually run into you in places like this.”

Kabru had encountered you one evening after exiting his room and seeing you and a few party members at the bar. It was nothing short of a strike of luck, and most certainly not him deliberately staying home that evening because he’d overheard your plans to go out.

“Hm?” You perked up, looking at him with a blank expression that was quickly replaced with a kind smile. Even trying to look closely, he couldn’t find anything present in your face except for a simple joy.

He would approach you with long strides, placing one hand on the back of your chair as to be friendly and intimate, but not so intimate as to make you recoil from a touch. The wink he gave you was with the eye facing away from the others on the opposite side of the table, ensuring most of them wouldn’t notice his flirtatious gesture.

“Want me to buy you a drink?”

Immediately, you raised one hand in polite refusal, your smile turning into more of a sheepish one. “Oh, I don’t know if I’d be able to pay you back. I wasn’t going to splurge much tonight anyway….”

As you talked, Kabru pulled up a free chair and sat down, a gesture that cemented himself in the conversation and setting. He noticed when he sat down in the middle of conversation, it made people less likely to turn him away than if he were still standing.

“No, no.” when he shook his head, his dark curls did a swishing movement. Once he looked back at you, he gave a half-lidded smile, only a tinge sultry in hopes you’d pick up his hints. “Your company is more than enough payment for me.”

Your party could only stare on with absolute pity as you waved your previously raised hand dismissively, giving what Kabru could only assume was a reassuring nod. Why did you think he needed reassured….? What did you think he meant?

“It’s completely fine, no need to be polite! We’re beyond such niceties at this point, I’d say. After all, I consider us to be at least a little bit friends, right? You don’t need to buy me a drink just to hang out!”

For a brief period, Kabru felt as if his whole world was spinning around him, before then shattering at the unknowing sledgehammer of your words. These statements and mannerisms suggested something far more than just a passive rejection…… no, it was something much darker.

You truly were as dense as a brick wall.

anger

Kabru doesn’t always react….. too calmly when people defy his expectations.

He’s able to keep a smile on his face just fine, but on the inside he’s screaming.

What do you mean there isn’t more? Where’s the scheme? The ulterior motive? The familiar secrets he can unravel and use to his advantage? Is it so bad that he wants there to be more?????

I’ll be honest, the man experiences his fair number of homicidal thoughts about you. In a strangely romantic way!

You’ll be chatting away with him, each remark and flirtation absolutely flying over your head, and inside his mind he’s just going I should gut them right here and sort their bones and vitals by size if they won’t let me dissect them the mental way.

And then seconds later he’ll go haha what was that! Anyway yes tell me more about the cute bird you saw last week.

I think Kabru does a lot of journaling, so he has a fair number of notes about you. Sometimes they’re drawings of you with notes about your appearance and physical mannerisms, other times he writes more free form about his thoughts regarding you. When he gets particularly frustrated, the writing can became scratchy or heavy handed to the point that it’s unreadable or nearly tears the paper.

The silence and solitude of the night was briefly interrupted by Rin rolling over in her sleeping bag. She was just beyond the range of the firelight where Kabru was still writing, and he could only barely see the way she squinted at him through her own tiredness.

“What are you scribbling about so late at night?” The mage would try to start another sentence, but be cut off by a yawn. If she was trying to be intimidating, it certainly wasn’t working. “Go to bed, Kabru, or else you’ll wake up to being sprayed by an undine if I have anything to say about it.”

That was a rather unpleasant thought….. even if the threat wasn’t legitimate, Kabru recognized that he’d probably spent far more time writing than intended. It was embarrassingly easy to get distracted when it came to you….just another thing that irked him about you. Yes…..’irked’. That’s most certainly the word.

“I’ll wrap it up soon, sorry to disturb your sleep, Rin.” With a grumble, the girl rolled back over, leaving Kabru to glance at his notebook for just a brief moment more before closing it. The writing was near illegible, but he still knew the words by heart:

‘I wouldn’t mind if they were scared of me. Maybe, if they sat on the other end of my sword, trembling and wide-eyed like human prey, I’d get to see a truly untouched side of them.’

bargaining

After the shock and rage subsides, Kabru tries to make you realize his feelings through pretty much every method imaginable except for confessing.

It feels like the man always appears at your side, always claiming he ‘happened to be in the area’ or something similar. And you never even question it, infuriatingly for him.

Your party members often tell you that something is up with the guy, that he’s hanging around you a suspicious amount but never being fully transparent, but you’d feel so bad about being suspicious of him when he’s done nothing but inquire about you and even offer gifts on rare occasions!

Kabru isn’t exactly the richest of adventurers, so gifts or treating you isn’t a regular occasion, but it’s certainly something he resorts to as a last ditch effort to try and get you to realize that he’s interested in you romantically.

Once he even tried to offer you a flower, but you still didn’t take the hint.

When you saw the flower in Kabru’s hand that day, your first thought was being so flattered that he remembered your conversation about which ones you both liked.

“Oh, Kabru!” You exclaimed with pure joy, causing the man to become embarrassingly excited that perhaps you had finally noticed the meaning behind all his gestures. Were you finally moved and wowed by his considerate, perfectly planned gift.

Clapping your hands together, you would beam and say, “You liked my favorite flower so much that you wanted to get one for yourself?”

A fly could’ve soared down Kabru’s throat in the time of that pause, but you paid it no mind, instead eagerly awaiting his reply.

The look on Kabru’s face was a completely blank smile, his bright blue eyes seeming to have almost burned out like a pair of oil lamps. Then, as he regained his composure, those lights flickered back on again, albeit wavering slightly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it yourself? If you like it so much, I’d be happy to let you take it home.” Poor Kabru, he should have learned by now that hints have no effect against the impenetrable fortress that is your cluelessness.

Your grin was the nail in the coffin, letting him know you had something in your head that was absolutely not anything he could anticipate from anyone else. “But why not use it as some decoration? Your party members always talk about how sparse your room is, and it could even remind you of me when I’m away! Here—“

You ushered him closer, a hand now on the small of his back giving him sparks that teetered between pleasurable and painful. The free hand gestured to the plant he held so delicately, pointing out different features like the petals, stem, and so on. “I can even tell you some facts about it; that’ll help you enjoy it that much more deeply whenever you see it! And you’ll remember our conversation!”

The way you could be so resistant to his advances yet so sweet to him could be nothing short of torturous sometimes.

depression

For a while, something fairly rare happens to Kabru: he falls into a slump.

He spends a long time in the dungeon, slashing away at monsters as if it might help him clear his head. His teammates notice that he can get more aggressive in combat than usual, but never really ask him about it.

He also becomes more spacey during mealtimes, and while some peaceful silence is nice, having Kabru of all people be so uncharacteristically quiet for so long.

It comes to the point that something similar to an intervention happens one day after dinner.

“What’s up with you, Kabru?” Mickbell wasn’t one to beat around the bush, immediately starting his line of questioning while looking at his teammate, void of mischief or amusement. “You’ve been all broody and silent all week. Can’t just expect us to not ask about it.”

“What Mickbell said,” Kuro concurred almost immediately after.

The tallman did his best to blink away his tiredness and offer a more confident look that he usually used when trying to rally his team under an idea or calm them down. “I didn’t mean to make you guys worry that much about me. It’s just something I’ve been personally interested in, so it’s not something you guys need to worry about.”

“A personal problem?” Rin cocked a brow. “If I know anything about what interests you, it’s probably a person.”

“Haha, caught me red-handed like always.” He raised his hands in faux surrender, though Rin didn’t seem to be put at ease by the gesture, so he tacked on another statement. “I was surprisingly stumped on what tactics to use when talking to a certain person, it’s really got me thinking.” Averting his gaze to the side, he could almost conjure an image of your grinning face in the corner of his vision. “It’s pretty exciting, though, so I don’t mind.”

“Ugh, I knew it!” The half foot threw his head back in exasperation, causing Kuro to extend one arm behind him in case he fell. “It’s that brick-headed adventurer you’re getting all cozy with, isn’t it?! What, you thinking of starting a new party?”

While Mickbell was busy stomping his foot to punctuate his accusation, Holm merely hummed. The gnome usually stayed pretty impartial to matters like this, but that didn’t mean he could always resist throwing in a comment or two.

“I’d be stumped too if I thought about human interaction like a battlefield.” His tone of voice remained soft, but his words were still quite pointed. “You really have to be upfront about your feelings sometimes, you know that? At least, if Mick’s description can actually be trusted.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!”

After those two broke down into petty squabbling, Kabru could merely try his best to mask his realization behind a tight-mouthed grin.

Holm was right, and he hated it more than anything.

acceptance

Okay, this is the part where Kabru actually bites the bullet and talks about his feelings. Truly a miracle of life.

Kabru can have a lot of trouble being fully vulnerable due to feeling like he’s losing control, so he does his best to maintain control over the rest of the outing. He arranges the time, location, even makes sure to get there first. It’s the most he can do to not feel completely helpless at the whims of his own fickle heart.

When you arrive, a new wave of nervousness hits him that’s almost like nothing before. Kabru has slain men without a second thought, and here he is resisting the urge to tremble because he has to tell his crush he likes them.

He starts off with small talk, sort of building up to his confession while also beating around the bush just a little. Asking you how you’ve been, if you’ve done anything noteworthy, if you’ve meet any new people…..

Eventually, Kabru decides that if he waits any longer, he may instinctually try to hide his intentions in the long strings of small talk he’s making, so he finally takes that leap.

He said your name, and your eyes flickered up to his face. Even if you were spacey at times, you never stared past him or through him whenever he was addressing you. It made him feel….strange. It was odd to feel truly perceived at times.

“Can I be….. terribly honest with you?” He cards his fingers through his curls and closes his eyes, and you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful he looked.

“Of course,” you responded without thinking. Not like you ever needed to think twice about your appreciation for the man. More than that, really.

There was stillness, and all you could hear was Kabru’s deep inhale through his nose. He intended to phrase it more eloquently, he really did, but when he opened his eyes again and saw you waiting on his words with baited breath, there was this instinctive fear that maybe this would be his only chance. That you would walk away or disappear, leaving him with only the memory.

He didn’t want just a memory.

“I want you to know that I love you above all else.”

Your mouth hung agape like his had many times in response to your own remarks. Were it not for how shocked he was at his own words, he would have chuckled at how cute you look.

Before he could even scramble to elaborate on his uncharacteristically blunt comment, you blurted out in a similar fashion, voice slightly raised and head perked up,

“You really feel that way?!”

Faced with your blushing face, Kabru could only affirm the feelings that you promoted from somewhere deep within him. “Yes, I’d been trying to win you over for a long time, really.”

If you were flushed before, then now you were nothing short of flooded with embarrassment from ear to ear. Despite this, you were smiling, wobbly and sheepish. “I mean, it’s not like I’m shocked in a bad way or anything — I always thought you were really wonderful, too wonderful for me anyway. I really never thought you were pursuing me of all people!”

For the longest time, your denseness had given Kabru untold grief. Upon seeing you state it so plainly, however, he just couldn’t find it in his heart to be upset. Not when it was one of the things that made you so fascinating.

“I’d sort of figured as such, yeah.”

#ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ fallow’s works!#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #kabru of utaya #kabru dungeon meshi #kabru x reader #kabru of utaya x reader

244 notes · View notes

miley1442111 · 22 days

Text

pride-part one. (a.hotchner, s.reid)

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: both of them love you, but you will be there for you?

pairing: potential aaron hotchner x gideonreader, potential spencer reid x gideonreader

warnings: general criminal minds topics, gore and brief descriptions of harm, fighting, mentions of child abuse, mutual pining, heavy topics, angst, death, illusions to smut, etc.

Aaron Hotchner prided himself on three things, his career, his son (though he did not pride himself on his parenting, only Haley’s), and his patience.

Two of those things were on the line the second you joined the BAU. You had joined the BAU 7 months ago. When Strauss had told him he was getting a new profiler, and that this profiler would be a licensed psychiatrist and former Agent Gideon’s daughter, he was ecstatic, prepared for your insight and helpful ideas. When you walked into his office on that fateful morning, his excitement was crushed and replaced with an overwhelming sense of desire and disgust with his own feelings.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spencer Reid believed he couldn’t be loved. He had been rejected and shut down by everyone. Jj, being the most recent. He saw Gideon as a surrogate father, so he was interested to see what his daughter was like. He had not expected you. Your wit and intelligence actually matched his, your beauty truthfully made his mind blank, and your kindness pulled him in further. He was utterly fucked.

Both of them were.

——————————-------------------------------------------------------

“Dr. Gideon!” Spencer sped over to you the second you opened the door to the bullpen. “Y/n,” he smiled and you smiled back.

“Morning Doctor,” you had never stopped using his title within the walls of the FBI building. You only called him by his name outside of work, which was rare considering you rarely went on nights out, choosing to stay home with a book instead. Something Spencer would prefer, but he always agreed to the nights out, in hopes that you’d choose to tag along.

“How are you?” He asked, trying to create conversation.

“I’m fine thanks, how are you? How was the festival this weekend? Sorry I couldn’t go.” He knew shouldn’t have allowed his heart to swell at you remembering his weekend plans, considering you also had an eidetic memory and the fact that you had bought him the ticket to go with you, but had to cancel in the end due to a family emergency. Yet his heart swelled all the same.

“It was amazing, I finally had time to brush up on my-“ Spencer had begun a ramble, but Aaron’s voice rang through the bullpen, calling your name. You politely excused yourself and promised Spencer you’d be right back to hear all about the French film festival he had attended that weekend.

You walked into Aaron’s office, a pleasant smile on your face. “You called, sir?”

“We have a case,” he gritted out. “It’s bad.”

“To be honest sir, I assume nothing less,” you admitted, but also knew there must have been more to this. “Was that all sir?”

“Is Dr. Reid distracting you from work?” Aaron asked and you were taken aback.

“No sir, sorry. We’re just friends and he was filling me in about a film festival we were supposed to go to this weekend. I had a family emergency and had to cancel on him. I’ll get straight back to work, sorry again sir,” you answered truthfully, he dismissed you and closed the door behind you as you left.

His hands flew into his hair. He was jealous. He was jealous of Spencer. He was jealous that you and Spencer had plans and he hadn’t even heard you say his own name. You always called him sir. To say it didn’t go straight to his dick would be a lie, but it had gotten better since you’d joined the Bureau. He wanted you. He felt like he needed you. Though you were significantly younger than him and way out of his league in his eyes, he still wanted you. And he wanted you badly. But somehow, for once in his life, Spencer had the upper hand. You and him had shared interests, you both spoke many languages, you were both equally intelligent (technically you had a higher IQ, at 188), and you were similar ages. Everyone on the team had literal bets on how long it would take you to get together, and he agreed with the logic. You were perfect for each other. You were essentially the same person, evenly matched, evenly blended. Yet it didn’t stop him from wanting you. He felt like nothing could.

You walked back to your desk, starting your work once again. Spencer snuck up behind you and started talking about the festival. You listened, offering small comments and nods in between his sentences as you worked on the reports for the last case.

“Sorry guys,” Jj’s voice quieted the entire bullpen. “Another case.”

You all walked into the conference room, Aaron already in there with Jj. Pictures of disfigured and bloodied people lined the screen and you grimaced, then recognised someone. You sat down as your stomach sank. It surely couldn’t be her, right?

“One of the victims, her name was Maisie-” You let out a whimper at the name of your sister. All eyes were on yours and you were out of the room before anyone could question you. You ran out of the conference room, over to your desk to grab your phone. You dialled your mothers number. No answer.

You dialled your sister's number. No answer.

You dialled your brother’s number. No fucking answer.

You finally dialled your father’s number as Penelope and Emily stood in front of you, a worried expression on both their faces.

“Hello?”

“Dad? Dad!” You left out a breath of relief. “What’s going on?”

“Kid, I’m so sorry-” He sighed. “Maisie and your mom, they’re gone.”

Your heart stopped. You stopped breathing. You could only think about the last thing you’d said to your sister before you went no-contact. Your memories drowned out the pleas from your father and friends to calm down and know that it wasn’t your fault.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re being dramatic!” Maisie yelled, her head in her hands.

“You don’t have to understand my decision, you just have to respect it,” you sighed, your bags packed at your feet. “I love you-”

“You don’t do this to someone you love!” Your sister screamed in your face, getting too close for comfort, in your opinion.

“I love you Maisie. I really hope you get the help you need, but I refuse to be your punching bag anymore. Physically and emotionally. Goodbye.”

You had started to walk out the door when your mother spoke up, the first time in a year.

“You’re not my daughter anymore. My daughter would never leave her family. You’re just like your poor-excuse of a father.”

“You’re not my sister anymore,’ your sister added.

“Then I guess we don’t know each other then,” and with that, you left. And you never turned back.

Leaving them broke you, but staying there would’ve killed you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Y/n!” Derek’s voice brought you back to life, your father’s voice still speaking to you over the phone. “Take a breath!”

You had been hyperventilating for the past minute, everyone on the team was terrified. You were always the quiet and collected one. You always knew what to do. You were calm. You were logical.

Now, you were scared. You were mourning. You were grief-stricken.

You hung up on your father, sitting in your desk chair. “It’s my mother and sister, they’re the victims.”

Your voice was calmer than you felt, which made you sick to your stomach. The faces of the entire team all dropped. Spencer moved to be closer to you, to comfort you, but he was stopped by Derek, it wasn’t the time to think about himself. It was time to think about you, and this case. Aaron shared a look with Jj. The killer was targeting your family. The killer was targeting you.

Your phone rang again, your brother’s number popped up on your screen. You answered without hesitation and brought it to your ear.

“Hey,” he sighed. He knew.

“Hey.”

“You know?” He asked.

“Yeah. Did you tell the kids yet?” you asked, referencing his children. “And Sophie?”

“Sophie got the call. I was at w-work. The kids don’t know. I’m so sorry Y/n.”

“I’m sorry too. I’ll be there soon-”

“Y/N,” he sighed. “I-in mom’s will, she finalised it a few months ago, she said you weren’t allowed at her funeral. I’m s-so sorry.”

Your heart broke again. “It’s fine,” you blinked back the tears. “I’m fine. My teams are investigating-”

“I’ll see you soon Y/n.”

He hung up. The office was silent.

“Who was that?” Penelope asked softly, a hand in yours.

“My brother. I need to go home,” You wiped your eyes. “I need to get my bag and we need to be in the air within the hour.”

The team nodded and suddenly, everything was loud again. Life hadn't halted. The wind blew outside, the birds sang in the trees, the phones in the office didn't stop ringing, the sounds of keyboards hadn’t been silenced.

That was just you.

Only you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Touching down in your hometown of 'Fighertown USA', San Diego felt surreal. Your brother, Michael, met you at the airstrip with his wife, Sophie and three children, Ryan, Freddie, and Georgia. They all ran up to hug you, red-rimmed eyes and deflated frames gave their grief away and made you forget about your own. You departed from the team to help with funeral preparations and to identify their bodies.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The team hadn’t stopped thinking about you, especially not Spencer or Aaron. Aaron was terrified for you, everyone was. Spencer wished he had been able to read the brief on the plane, wished he could’ve told you what danger you were in. You were what the unSub wanted.

“Hotch I really think someone should go check on her, they’re all in danger-” Spencer tried to argue with him but he held a hand up to stop him.

“I’ve already sent police to the house and Derek and I will be staying there tonight,” Aaron was being selfish, he knew that. Keeping Spencer from you was childish and petty and he knew it. He knew it. But he also knew the only way he’d even be able to convince himself that you were alright is if he was with you. It was a miracle he had even let you go to leave with your family at the airstrip, he didn’t want to. The entire plane ride you’d been holding his hand, in his arms, or napping on his lap. He was grateful that you trusted him. He felt special, sue him.

“You and Derek? Can I come to check on her too-” Spencer tried. He wanted to keep a level-head, he truly tried, but he couldn’t. Not when Aaron dismissed him and walked off, getting ready to leave. Spencer caught up with him outside. “Hotch! Can I just come to check on her-”

“There’s going to be a lot of people around her, you don’t need to be one more,” he sighed.

“And you won’t be?” he shot back, halting Aaron’s footsteps as Derek turned to him. “I actually know her. I spend time with her outside of the office,” was it a lie? No. But truthfully, it had only happened once, and it was only by chance. You went to the same cinema as him, and it turned out you both had tickets to the same film. You sat together, then got lunch. It was nice. He thought about it constantly.

“Spencer,” Aaron’s voice was a warning. “Do not do this right now.”

“Why not?”

“Kid, drop it,” Derek sighed. “I’ll bring you to see her tomorrow. Now go work on the geological profile.”

Derek and Aaron ducked into the SUV, leaving Spencer alone outside the station. He sighed and decided that he would be the one to bring the unSub in. He wanted you safe. That’s all he cared about.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Derek and Aaron reached your family home, they were amazed to see the amount of people there. Jason invited them in and explained the situation. He and your mother had divorced and he had left. Your sister had been abusive throughout your childhood, teenage years, and young adulthood. You didn’t tell him until you’d left. Aaron felt sick. You had been abused as a child. A terrible thought made its way into his head, maybe you did have something in common.

101 notes · View notes

c4qwp · 3 months

Text

leon kennedy x fem!reader

| a mistake he made that he cannot erase.

📎 tags : angst, female reader, you’re the other woman, ada mentioned, no use of (y/n), cheating, leon being a bitch (whoops)

📎 author’s note : this story is really short, s’gonna have 2 chaperd ig, i cried like a bitch whereas i love angst so thihihi i love it :3

prologue

prologue — a lana song — chapter one

in the beginning, your life together was like a fairy tale. you were deeply in love, sharing dreams and aspirations. every day was filled with excitement, laughter, and new adventures. you would surprise each other with thoughtful gestures and spend hours talking about your hopes and plans for the future. it seemed like nothing could ever break their bond.

as time went on, however, their perfect life began to settle into a comfortable routine. you fell into predictable patterns and became accustomed to the stability you two had created. the once-thrilling surprises became rare, and your conversations became more focused on mundane tasks and responsibilities.

at first, you didn't notice the subtle changes. you two were both busy with your jobs and work, and the routine provided a sense of stability amidst the chaos of life. but as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, a sense of dissatisfaction started to creep into your relationship.

your once-passionate love life became less passionate, as intimacy became more routine and predictable. you started to spend less quality time together, getting lost in your individual pursuits. the dreams and aspirations you once shared began to fade, replaced by a sense of complacency.

he was really busy with his work. he had a mission in spain to save the president's wife. which was something very important and stressful.

he never sent you a single message. maybe it was because he was busy or something else...if it was the case. you called him once at 2AM because you were very worried. he did not answer. you called again and miraculously it picked up! you were about to start your sentence with the words you had kept inside you for days saying you were worried sick; when suddenly you heard a...growl? from a animal, right? yeah that's what you guessed since it would be weird if it was something else —

a kiss?

why did you hear a kiss?

'i knew you hadn't changed, pretty boy.'

a woman. a woman voice.

'say no if you don't want it.'

you heard the sound of a kiss. again. it doesn't stop. fuck

your boyfriend was cheating on you. the shock and betrayal cut deep, shattering the trust you had placed in him. you were crying on the phone silently but you finally hung up.

he saw his screen on and saw the call interface in the middle of a call disappear. you heard everything.

he tried to call you back. once. twice. three times. it stays on your answering machine.

you didn't have the courage to see him face to face. his handsome face to discuss all this. you didn't want to cry in front of him. suffer even more. you wrote him 3 letters telling him everything you had in your heart and left your apartment.

3 letters from you

and

1 letter from him

['read them but don't send

me an answer.']

['i don't deserve you. you don't have to forgive me, but please let me talk to you.']

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #resident evil #resident evil 4 #angst #resident evil x reader #ada wong

69 notes · View notes

cheeriecherrymain · 11 months

Note

For request 🥺 viktor and a nervous reader’s first time

An attempt was made! Again, kind of ran away with the prompt in my mouth and chewed it a bit until I was chased down and made to spit it out. Sorry

---

Viktor x fem!Reader (18+)

Content tags: first time together | oral (f and m receiving) | simp Viktor p much

---

-You had…kind of expected sex to just happen naturally in your relationship. You had expected that you’d go through each new milestone as they came, from holding hands, to a first date, to a first kiss.

-And for the most part, it had happened like that. Viktor had asked you out to coffee one evening, when he was frazzled from work and already a little jittery from his rather impressive (and detrimental) caffeine intake throughout the day.

-You’d softly denied his suggestion, and quickly replaced it with something a little less…unhealthy. You invited him over for dinner, instead, offering to make something hearty and spiced, but easy on the stomach. He’d accepted, of course, and that night had been one filled with a whole bunch of firsts.

-But now, four months into your (official) partnership, he still had yet to touch you. Well, he touched you, yes - all the time, in fact. He always liked to have a hand on some part of your body, in the most innocent sense. You’d learned quite early on that physical affection was one of the silent ways he told you he cared for you. And that he trusted you.

-What you mean is that you hadn’t…

-He hadn’t…

-You haven’t had sex. Ever.

-Not only with him, but…in general. None of your past relationships had ever gotten to a point where you’d felt safe enough to open up about that sort of thing, or made you feel comfortable enough to bare yourself so openly. But you want that, with him.

-You’ve heard as many horror stories as you have pleasantries about the whole ordeal, ranging from pain and discomfort, to not being able to come, to muscle cramps and weird noises and knocking foreheads when you tried to-

-You take a deep breath, in a vain attempt to calm yourself down. You know it’s not always like that. You know that Viktor would never hurt you, or make you feel weird or unusual for something so trivial.

-You’ve heard good things about sex, too. The emotional intimacy it could achieve, on top of the physical pleasure - little giggles and feelings of elation. One of your friends had said she’d never really experienced good sex until she’d met her partner, and they’d actually talked about what they wanted. Openly and without judgment.

-You’re a little bit cranky that you’re probably going to have to be the one who brings the subject up with your boyfriend. You wish that you could just…fall into it, and talk about it afterwards, but realistically? It’s a conversation that needs to be had.

-You want him to know what you want.

-You want to know what he wants.

-So on a weekend, as the two of you sit comfortably at your tiny dining table, eating some kind of cheesy pasta dish that you don’t know the name of, you broach the subject.

- “What do you think about sex?” you ask him, during the first lull in your mutual chatter. You want to hit yourself, with how the question comes out, but you suppose there’s no going back now.

-Viktor nearly chokes for a second on a bite of food, his gaze snapping up to yours as a light dusting of pink begins to appear on his cheeks. “Pardon me?” he coughs, clearing his throat.

-You sigh.

- “I just…I want to know where we’re at,” you explain, setting your fork down. “Most people usually…do it within the first month of being together. And we’re on month four, so I- I just want to…check in, I guess?”

-You can feel your face beginning to heat up, as the mortification sets in. “I’m not saying that we have to have had sex by now,” you ramble, “I’m just talking about the statistical average! I mean, I’ve never even done it before, so it’s not like I have any frame of reference - I just thought! It’s a thing a lot of couples do, so maybe it would be a - a good idea to - talk. About it. About if that’s something you want.”

-You set your face in your hands with a groan, feeling the tips of your ears burn from the awkwardness of it all. You knew it was going to be uncomfortable and kind of weird to bring it up, but of all the ways you could have messed it up and stuck your foot in your mouth-

- “Is it something you want?” he asks suddenly, surprising you well enough that you crack your fingers apart to peer at him with a single eye. He’s flushed, as you expected him to be, but he doesn’t look particularly embarrassed. Not like you thought he would.

-You sigh again.

- “I…think so,” you admit, finally pulling your hands away from your face. “It’s like I said - I’ve never done it. I know I’m late to the party, but-”

-He reaches across the table then, all but throwing his fork down in lieu of reaching for you. Wrapping his hand tenderly around your own, in an attempt to comfort you.

- “There is no time limit on something like this,” he tells you. “If the moment has never felt right, then that’s…that’s okay. If you’re unsure about making our relationship more physical, then we don’t need to rush. There is no rule saying we have to do certain things at a certain time.”

-You carefully knit your digits around his, staring down at the little details on his hands. The angular curve of his fingers, long and slender and dextrous, along with the little moles and freckles and scars that dot across his pale skin. You’re rendered breathless for a brief moment, upon the realization that every part of him is stupidly attractive.

- “I want you,” you mumble, shyly avoiding eye contact. “The number of times I’ve thought about you during one of my ridiculously long showers is…too many to count. I guess I just. I dunno. I’m nervous. I don’t want to be bad at it, and I don’t want to mess something up, and I’m worried I won’t….”

-You sigh for a third time.

-Thankfully, Viktor has known you for a significant amount of time by now: he knows your moods and feelings, knows your little secrets and tells. He knows what you’re thinking about, just by looking at you. You don’t need to say so much out loud.

- “Nothing you could do could put me off of you,” he promises, as he rises from his seat. Keeping your hands entwined, he maneuvers his way over to stand in front of you, bringing your knuckles up to his lips once your knees knock against him.

- “If I’m being honest, I’ve been…quite horrendous about controlling myself around you,” he admits, without an ounce of shame. “Most nights, when I’m alone in the lab, I’ve taken myself in hand to the thought of you. The way your hair smelled that morning in bed, the way your lips are so warm on mine.”

-You swallow hard, as your stomach flutters wildly.

- “And then, of course, there are the things I don’t know,” the corner of his mouth quirks up at the edge, mischievous and playful. “I like to think about the way you’d taste on my tongue, how I could make you squirm. The pretty little sounds you’d make as I gave you pleasure. How divine you’d feel, wrapped around my cock.”

-You nearly stop breathing, the softest of whines falling past your lips.

-Viktor looks down at you like he knows exactly what he’s doing, like some kind of devilish, scheming man. Bringing his lips to the back of your hand again.

- “If it’s something you want, would you let me have you?” he asks, his gaze meeting yours. “Would you allow me to make you feel good tonight? And every other night you so please?”

-If you weren’t already sitting, you know for a fact that your legs would have given out beneath you.

-The second you nod, he leans down to kiss you. Sets his cane in the crook of his elbow, and takes your jaw in hand, pressing little circles into your skin with the tips of his fingers. It’s sweet as can be, warm and comforting like you’re used to, but with a sharp bite to it.

-Sharp, like the way he nips at your bottom lip.

- “As much as I would love to have you right here,” he murmurs, barely pulling away from you, “I would at least have our first night together be somewhere more fitting. I want to take my time with you.”

-And so, the two of you find your way to the bedroom, significantly slower than you usually would, stopping every couple of steps to mesh your mouths together. Or for him to find any exposed piece of skin he can, latching onto you to suck and bite little bruises.

-By the time you actually make it to your destination, you’re mostly divest of your clothes. Save for a soft undershirt and a pair of pastel panties. Viktor fares no better, his usual vest and tie dropped somewhere along your path, his shirt hanging open and his trousers halfway unbuttoned.

-You stop at the foot of the bed, and he comes up behind you, wasting no time in getting to feel you - feel the warmth and the gentle squish of your flesh beneath his fingers. The soft hairs across your body, your skin rising into goosebumps along every trail he makes.

-His breath, hot against the back of your neck, as he slowly slides the bottom of your shirt upwards. So slowly.

-You appreciate that he’s giving you time to back out, should you so desire: that his touches are meandering and lazy, enough that you could stop him with ease. But you don’t want him to.

-You squirm where you stand, trying, hoping that he’ll understand what you’re hinting at. But the devious bastard only smiles, laying a smattering of kisses across your shoulders.

- “You’ll have to use your words, milý,” he mutters, toying with the edge of your shirt. “How can I know what you want, if you don’t tell me?”

-Your face feels like it’s on fire, embarrassed even though you know you have no reason to be. You trust Viktor, more than you’ve ever trusted anyone: you know he’s just being a tease.

- “Take it off,” you whine, and thankfully he doesn’t push you on it further, demands no more explanation.

-The next couple minutes are a total blur, wrought with new sensations and little thrills of pleasure. He settles you comfortably on your back, once you’re fully bare to him, and for a moment he just…stares. You wouldn’t exactly call it humiliating, not with the way his eyes darken with lust, but you’re certainly shy.

-He kisses a scalding path down your body, more tongue than anything else. Stopping for a few dozen seconds to pay attention to your chest, wrapping his lips around one puffy bud, sucking hard for a couple seconds before soothing the ache with the lave of his tongue.

-Until both your nipples are drawn into stiff peaks, and the soft of your skin is littered with the dull imprint of his teeth.

-And then he continues his path downwards.

-Kneading the insides of your squishy thighs, he slowly coaxes you to open your legs, murmuring praises all the while. He’d done the favour of removing the last of his own clothing for you, not wanting to stress you out by demanding some kind of reaction from you.

-You’re grateful for it, in a sense, but you’re also desperate to get a peek at him. Hard and dripping, watching as a pearlescent drop beads at the tip of his cock the moment you open your legs for him. You whine quietly, when you finally get to see how you’re affecting him.

-He lays kiss after kiss all over your spread thighs, foregoing his earlier cheekiness for obvious and genuine care. Treating you sweetly, with the most gentle and loving hand that he possibly can.

-He wants this to be good for you.

-He needs this to be good for you.

- “Tell me, milý,” he says lowly, “How far have you gone on your own? Have you touched yourself here?” he lowers his thumb to your clit, already already swollen and thick with your arousal, and begins rubbing slow patterns onto it.

-You mewl at the new sensation, not overly pleasurable, but the fact that he’s the one doing it makes it infinitely better.

- “Yes,” you breathe, fisting your hands into the sheets beneath you. “I - I’ve done that. Several times, in fact. S-sometimes out here, spread open like this, on my own. Other times…”

-He quirks a brow at you.

- “Other times,” you continue, “I…use the showerhead. Once or twice when you were staying over.”

-He groans, then, letting his eyes fall shut for a few moments while he lets his cheek come to rest on your thigh. You think for a second that you’ve somehow offended him, but he’s very quick to mitigate that worry. Bright honey eyes snapping open to nearly glare up at you with palpable desire, so strong you’re made breathless again.

- “To think, I could have tasted you weeks ago,” he sighs, almost sounding genuinely saddened. But it’s quick to pass, as he descends upon you with the hunger of a man starved.

-Licking a solid stripe up your drenched slit, drawing his tongue into a point near the end to flick it against your clit. Again and again, he repeats the motion, watching with rapt attention as his spit mixes with your sticky fluids, dripping down onto the bedsheets below.

-It’s not long before he changes his technique on you, startling a moan out of you when he wraps his lips around your puffy bud and sucks. He leaves you trembling, positively quaking, with his ministrations. You never thought that you’d ever be able to have an orgasm approach so quickly, but now, as he continues his onslaught of pleasure, even going so far as to dip his finger into your drenched hole, you can’t even find it in your heart to be embarrassed about it.

-He doesn’t stop touching you, doesn’t stop pumping his slender digit into you, doesn’t stop the movement of his tongue on your desperate slit. You know he can feel you squeezing around him - he’s got to.

-But he never stops.

-He tenderly works you over the edge, groaning and sighing along with you as you find your high, nearly grinding against his face in an attempt to seek out more, more. Anything to prolong the pleasure.

-Until you’re rendered boneless beneath him, breathing hard while you wait for all the little stars in your vision to fade away. You barely even notice him removing his finger from you, popping it into his mouth to suck your juices off, as if it’s some kind of rare delicacy.

- “Holy shit,” you squeak, followed by an almost disbelieving giggle. You can’t help yourself - you don’t think you’ve ever had an orgasm quite like that before. Your own fingers were well enough, you supposed, and the showerhead was certainly intense, but…

- “You’ve ruined me, Viktor,” you laugh, smiling down at him with a dopey grin. “I’m never going to be able to get myself off after this - I’m only going to want you.”

-His brows rise by a fraction, a moment of disbelief immediately followed by his own self-satisfied smirk.

-You’re hardly shy after that, despite being unsure of what to do and where to put your hands, or of what might feel good. Your boyfriend, to give him credit, is a good teacher - guiding you through the motions of what he likes best, what makes him squirm, what makes him come.

- “It’s you,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Your touch, and your hand wrapped tightly around his drooling cock, your mouth wrapping around the blunt, flushed head, and your tongue sliding along his shaft to slick him up.

-And it’s you who lets him rut up into your grip, staring up at him with naught but adoration shining in your beautiful eyes.

-Like you, he’s neither embarrassed nor ashamed about how quickly he reaches his end, far too pleased by the fact that you’re finally touching him. That he’s finally gotten to see the gorgeous face you make when you come, and that’s he’s gotten a taste of your perfect pussy.

-He tries to warn you before he comes, but like he had earlier, you don’t pay him any mind. Until his release hits your waiting tongue, you continue to work him.

-Until he starts whining and batting at your hand, you work him.

-It doesn’t go much further than that, for the time being. The two of you carefully and tenderly cleaning each other up in the aftermath, sharing kisses and blissful little bouts of laughter, your hands never really leaving each other’s bodies. You have as much time as you desire, to figure everything out, and to learn.

-To discover new things about one another, and forge this new part of your relationship.

-Though let’s be honest, he does get a little handsy the following morning.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #viktor headcanons #though it's more of a bullet point story

242 notes · View notes

nivisdreaming · 1 year

Text

Kinks And Cookies

Frustrated by the trials and tribulations of solo BDSM, Y/N comes to their dear friend Eddie Munson for support. Probably shouldn’t have chosen the best friend they’re also in love with for that role, but at least they’ve got cookies as a distraction from the heartache?

Eddie Munson x Sub!Reader

WC: ~800

Tags: Not smut but heavy kink themes, hurt/comfort turned love confession?, self indulgent af, drabble, gender neutral reader, 2nd person POV (you/yours and Y/N use)

Eddie cocks his eyebrow from where he lounges in a dining room chair, a lit joint hanging from his fingertips as he intently listens to your words. “Wait, so you’ve been doing solo play? As a sub?”

“Yeah, and it’s.. fine. Less than ideal for my style, but I’m a big kid, I can take care of myself. Porn and daydreaming works well enough. It’s good enough. For little while, anyway. But that’s not the issue,” you bite your lip and shuffle in your seat, “The problem is afterwards. Aftercare and that stuff. You know how I am with self care. It’s even worse when I’m…” Your words trail off.

“Fucked dumb?” He finishes for you, a smirk on his face as he clearly tries to suppress laughter.

“Eds! This is serious!” You huff and pull your knees up to your chest, burrowing your warm face and wide eyes away from him. “It’s gotten really bad sometimes, Eds, if I don’t do enough I end up dropping.” You take a shaky breath and try to wipe some of tears collecting on your lash-line on your pants. “That’s really scary alone, Eddie. I hate every second of it, and there’s nothing I can even do but wait it out when all I wanna do is feel good.”

A frown replaces Eddie’s teasing expression. He’s heard about subdrop plenty, helped a few playpartners through it once or twice. He’s even had to deal with topdrop himself after a particularly rough scene. He knows the emotions your trying to articulate. The anxiety that eats away at you, the shame and guilt that overshadows all else, the primal sadness and depression that you just can’t explain because there’s not always a reason beyond the physiological. He’s putting out the joint now, quick to move from his seat to squat next to you. A tentative hand reaches for your knee, and he begins to rub small circles over the soft fabric. “I’m sorry I laughed, Y/N.” He can hear your muffled sniffling from where your face is buried, and it’s really tugging on his heartstrings. “What can I do to help? What’d you want me for?”

“Just, hold me. For a few minutes. Til the bad feelings go away.” You feel Eddies arms move up to wrap around your torso, and you’re carefully shifted into his lap and pressed against his chest, his chin resting atop your head. His hand goes to caress your hair and a sob rips from your throat, stilling his breathing.

“Y/N. Maybe this is a bad time, but could I ask you something?” Eddie’s words come out tentatively. You nod from where you lay, not trusting your voice to hold steady. He mutters close to your ear, “Why don’t you have a dom? If being without one isn’t what you want, why be on your own?”

You feel your breath catch, and he worries you can feel how his heart skips a beat at your reply. “There’s… a guy. Who I want to be my dom, but I’m too scared to ask.” You take a heavy pause. “He barely even knows I exist in that capacity, but being with someone besides him would still feel wrong. I’m waiting to either get over him or work up the courage to ask him out. Both seem impossible.” Your words come out mumbled, but at least the talking is enough over a distraction to get you to stop crying.

Eddie is so glad your head is still buried in his chest. You always had such a way of reading him, like you could see his eyes and how they reflected the light and use it to know exactly how he felt. He didn’t want you seeing that moment the hope turned to jealousy turned to heartbreak. God, this had been a rollercoaster of a conversation, even by the weird standards you two had grown accustomed too.

You both sit in silence for awhile, enjoying each other’s embraces, terrified to be the first to move. It feels like centuries have passed by the time the alarm for the cookies you technically were here to bake in the first place sounds through the trailer, and you have to peel yourself from Eddie’s hold reluctantly. He stays on the floor, but you can feel his gaze on you even as you turn to pull the metal sheet from the oven.

“Whoever he is, tell him. You don’t… you don’t deserve to hurt, Y/N. Not like this.�� His sightline doesn’t budge when you turn your head around to look at him. There’s some emotion dripping from everything about him, from the hunched way he sits, to the gruff tone of his voice, to the way he blinks a little too often, like he’s trying to clear something away. For once, you can’t quite determine what it is. It only spurs you on.

“It’s you, Eddie. For fucks sake, it’s always been you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #sub!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson drabble

336 notes · View notes

meg-gumigumi · 1 year

Text

✧˚ · .✧˚ Darling

summary: you pose as Loid’s fake wife once more, without realising the dangers it comes with it, whether it’s loid himself, or another third party.

word count: 3,655

warning: gun violence!

tags: Loid x female reader! (can be seen as gn) Loid fluff?? Definitely angst..more or less.

a/n: I saw this idea on the character.ai chat…this became so much longer than I intended to. I was just going with the flow and also its very cringe as well...yeah..the plot of the story kinda just went south when I was writing oh well...(not proof read, so good luck I guess)

The night seemed all too normal, while music wafted through the air at the event. You weren’t entirely sure why Loid had asked you along, once more asking you to pose as his wife, but you didn’t press for information.

As he was off busying himself with making conversation, you stood alone, absentmindedly sipping your champagne.

If you were asked to play as the wife, the least he could do is play his part right. You sighed, clicking your tongue once you noticed your champagne glass was empty.

The classical music buzzed quietly in the air as you manoeuvred your way to the open bar, slipping your gloves off and placing them to the counter.

"I’ll have another glass please" you sighed once more, taking a seat.

The bartender turned to you, an overly cheerful smile spreading across his face as he asked the typical bartender line of "Can I get you anything else, miss?"

The smile didn't falter, even as he poured the rest of the champagne into your glass. In your mind you silently wondered what would happen if you ordered, say, a shot of whiskey instead, simply out of pure curiosity.

“A shot of whiskey if you will.” You shrugged, giving in. The bartender's smile briefly flickered, clearly taken aback by your unexpected request, but he obliged you. He went through the necessary motions, his grin once more plastered to his face as he presented you with the shot of whiskey.

Without a word of thanks, you gulped it down...and immediately had to fight back a reaction as you felt the alcohol kick in.

As your eyes drifted around the room, you couldn't help but feel someone nearby watching you. Or at least, that's what it felt like.

You kept a note of the feeling as you silently sipped your third glass of champagne this evening -- well drinks were your only company at the moment. Eyes still locked on Loid, irritated. Your black velvet dress hugged your body so perfectly, highlighting every curve. You had purposely chose to wear this dress but not a single compliment from his side....no.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could have sworn you saw the faintest hint of Loid's gaze sliding in your direction but as you turned to face him, any thought was instantly dispelled by his smile. A warm smile, mind you, the kind that would melt the hearts of lesser men. It didn't melt yours however and you found yourself scowling as you stared down at the glass.

"Something wrong, darling?" Loid's voice was a deep purr, with all of his previous formality replaced by casual confidence as he approached you. He was looking at you this time, you realized.

"Its darling now is it?" you muttered under your breath while taking another sip.

Oh he caught onto that alright. A corner of Loid's lip curved into a smile as he stepped right up in front of you, his breath hot on the side of your face as his arm snaked around your hips.

"Always has been, darling." He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, his hands caressing you in ways you never would have expected... in public no less.

The grasp on your drink almost slipping from your hands as you try to gain composure. You softly exhale, placing your hands on his shoulder. While on the outside you seemed calm, internally you were freaking out.

A shiver went down your spine as Loid pressed his lips against your skin, his hand snaking their way up to your back to pull you in closer. He held you like a lover, with absolutely no regard for the eyes that were watching you from the side-lines. If he cared, he didn't show it.

"You're a bit tense, darling." Loid whispered, the low rumble of his voice filling your skull.

You placed the drink to the side, a delicate gasp escaping your lips as your hands draped around his neck, drawing him closer to whisper in his ear. "What are you doing."

"Showing my wife some affection." Loid's words were a breathy whisper that felt like it was just for you, that is until you heard the tittering among the rich folks, their eyes glued to your every move. "Is that such a bad thing?"

The sudden attention that fell upon the two of you made you feel overwhelmed. This is not what you meant by playing the part. Your breath fanned against his ear as you shuddered by his touch.

Loid continued the playful act, the attention of the elites be damned, he was going to show you off at any cost. He continued to hold you close and trail his kisses from your ear to your mouth before pulling away and gently kissing you on the cheek. As he pulled back a warm smile spread over his face.

"You really are beautiful." he whispered, clearly only talking to you. "I don't give these sorts of compliments often either." He added as an afterthought.

You would have scoffed at his comment if it weren't for the lingering touches of his fingers on your back. This was the first time he had complimented you this evening. You would have questioned his sudden change of behaviour before you noticed the grip of the fingers on your waist had tightened, in a way that implied danger. Your mouth almost felt dry with the way he gazed at you. You weren't sure where or who the danger was but you decided to trust Loid's instincts.

Your fingers gradually ran through his hair as your lips grazed his. The pleading look you gave him nearly sent him over the edge.

Loid took a sharp breath in through his nose. He had to steady himself so he wouldn't act on his... impulses but by God if you didn't see the pure lust in his eyes he may have just lost control.

From the corner of your eye, you detected the hurried movement within the crowd. You were right, someone was watching you and they were getting closer. The uneasiness heaving of you chest didn't calm you down, instead you glanced at Loid, as if waiting for his response.

The smile on his face disappearing as he took one final look at the crowd. He had long before observed the movements in hopes that his little charade would distract them.

He spoke in a hushed whisper. "Darling, we have to go." His voice was calm, reassuring even, but the steely glint in his eyes left no doubt about the danger that was approaching. With you in tow, he took your hand and started weaving his way through the crowd, clearly headed for an exit.

The three people, armed heavily, emerged from the crowd as the rich people scattered in terror, screams and shouts echoed within the hall. With that cue, Loid's hold on your hand now steady as his legs carried him forwards. Your body being forced to be pulled along with him. A couple of staggers and stumbles from your side had slowed him down. He stopped abruptly, head twisting to you.

"Its my dress, I can't run in it." you replied to his silent question. With a nod, he swept you up and continued to run. He picked up the pace, taking twists and turns until he managed to lose the pursuers, only stopping once you were out of sight.

"Jesus Christ..." He hissed, his breathing ragged as he lowered you to the ground before getting down beside you. "You could have told me about the dress."

"Really?! You could have told me about the pursuers!?" you yelled, clearly you were kept in the dark here. Your fingers nit-picked at the fabric of your dress as it clung to your skin.

"That's a fair point I suppose." He got to his feet and held a hand down to help you up. "Come on, there's an exit right here and it's close enough to a safe house where we can lay low while I figure out what their next move is." He spoke as if he was reciting a script, as if all of this was a regular thing to him.

Your brows furrowed heavily, taking a couple of steps backwards. "Who are you?" you asked. This person almost seemed like a stranger to you now. For all you know, his name might not even be real.

"Huh?" Loid paused briefly, but then his expression hardened, upon hearing the pursuers getting closer.

"I can't tell you that." Loid's patience was running scarce, as if he was in a rush to be out of here.

"The less you know about me right now, the better." He added, sounding almost... apologetic?

You could see it now, the truth behind his fake smile. The carefully crafted persona that he showed to the world, the one that hid his real self so perfectly. The grasp of his arms around your waist and alarmed sounds of gun shots brought you back to reality.

"Hold tight." was all he said for you to understand. His breath staggered with every twist he took, to lure them away. The car coming in sight with his line of vision. He turned to you, warm breath fanning at your temple.

"The car keys." he nicked his head to his pockets, gesturing for you to pick them out. You glanced up at him in surprise, face clearly etched with confusion. Yet you didn't waste any time, directing your hands into his pockets. You rummaged through, not being able feel the keys but however grabbing onto something else.

Loid let out a grunt, catching you by surprise. "The...other pocket..." he breathed as your ears blushed red. You hurriedly searched the other side, in hopes to feel the cold metal so that you could excuse yourself from this moment immediately. Without a word, you unlocked the car.

He carefully set you down into the passenger seat before he himself slipped into the drivers seat, pressing onto the gas immediately. You braced yourself forwards, catching yourself in time.

Loid glanced over to you before his eyes were back on the road. "Seatbelt, darling."

You growled silently, shifting to click the seatbelt in place as his foot hit the gas, the sudden acceleration causing you to gasp and your heart to skip a beat. The screeching of the tyres and the roaring of the engine were both muffled as Loid slammed it into the first open road, his attention glued to the road.

"Loid!" You shouted, the shock in your voice barely covering the terror. In an instant, the car was hurtling down the street, swerving around cars as it continued to speed away.

"You have some explaining to do, Loid." You huffed, grasping onto the side as you struggled to calm your nerves.

You questions were drowned out by the sounds of the engine and the squealing of the tires but he didn't seem to care as he kept his eyes on the road, pushing the car to his absolute limits.

After what felt like an eternity, the car finally reached a safe house on the outskirts of town, only to stop with a sudden screech of the brakes as Loid stopped the car. Before you could complain any further he killed the engine.

"Let's calm down and talk, okay?" Loid said in a soothing voice, his head turned to the side to meet your eyes.

Your eyes were closed for a moment, and you took a deep breath before nodding.

"Okay, first things first, are you hurt anywhere?" He asked, a hint of anxiety clearly present in his voice. "Anything that needs immediate attention?" he was already reaching toward glove box, getting ready to get his first aid-kit even without an answer.

"I'm fine." You replied after taking the time to make sure no injuries escaped your notice. When he reached for the first-aid kit, a raised eyebrow was all you showed, a silent question of why he was so worried. "I'm not the one who just pulled a James Bond." You quipped, leaning back against the seat.

When you received silence, you glanced at him in concern. You glanced over to his arm, which had seemed to be bleeding. "You're hurt."

"It's just a scratch." Loid said, but his words were unconvincing. There was no denying that there was a fair bit of blood leaking from the wound but he made no move to treat it.

You frowned, feeling that there was more here than he was leading on and once again voiced your concern.

"Loid, we need to look at that."

You grabbed the kit from his lap, hushing him from any refusal. His breath became more ragged as you rolled up his sleeves. Your eyes widened in surprise and all the air that had been filling your lungs escaped through your open mouth in a gasp as you reveal a bullet wound in his shoulder.

The reality of the situation hit you like a truck. People are trying to kill this man.

Loid's expression was unreadable, his face as neutral as always despite the bullet wound in his shoulder. Without a word, he allowed you to treat his wound. His eyes were focused on you the entire time, analysing every movement you made. You weren't sure if it was out of concern or if it was something else, but either way it made you feel just a little bit uncomfortable under his watch.

He flinched slightly once you began treating the wound, clearly the pain was agonizing but he said nothing more. Your brows furrowed as you finished, frustration and worry displayed on your features.

“You need to calm down.” his hand reached over to yours, stopping it from shaking.

You huffed, unlocking the door of the car as you walked out barefoot.

Loid seemed caught off guard by the sudden turn of events. You could see a faint flash of confusion before he quickly collected himself and got out of the car, standing tall with his feet shoulder's length apart. His one undamaged arm folded across his front as he stared with narrow eyes, watching you walk away.

Your brow furrowed with determination at the sheer nerve of the man. His silence, his cool demeanour, it made your heart pound in your chest even now. With no further words, you began the walk into the house, completely forgetting about your heels.

You could feel the his eyes on you the entire time, his gaze burning a hole in your back.

As you reached the front entrance of the house, you began to twist the door knob in hopes for it to open. When the door didn't budge, it just added to your frustration. The calming footsteps from behind you made you freeze in place.

The sound of the keys dangling from his hands made you move to the side without sparing him a glance.

When you turned, you found Loid right behind you, the key already inserted into the door with an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes seemed to be watching you like an eagle from the side.

he turned the keys in the lock and pushed the door open before taking your hand and gently steering you inside.

The door shut quietly behind you. As you stepped inside the house you saw that it was small but cosy, it was the perfect place to lay low for a few days

Just as he was about to lock it, you ripped your hand away from his grasp and stood before him, your hand on your hip as you spoke, your head not quite at eye level with his.

"Explain." You demanded.

You fell onto the chair and watched him walk up to you, a frown deep on your face as you were unsure what kind of tactic he was trying to employ now.

Once again, his movements managed to catch you off guard as he slowly kneeled and faced you, staring into your eyes as they shifted between his for an answer.

"What do you want to know?" He asked, his voice soft, almost as if he cared.

"Everything..." the anger and frustration in your voice vanished, just tired of being kept in the dark. You just wanted answers. He let out a soft sigh, taking a hold of your hands and creasing his thumb along.

"If you must know, I'm a spy..for WISE."

The eye contact you two shared, unwavering. "To be completely honest, I only approached you because of my mission."

You retracted your hand from his, the words he spoke sounded like they pained him greatly, but he knew it had to be done.

"I see” Your eyes were focused on your fists that were curled up on your lap, betrayal evident in your voice though you tried to hide it. You could feel a lump growing in your throat as the reality of the situation settled into your brain but you did not break eye contact, desperately trying to see if there was more to this lie.

"What was the reason for seducing me? What is it that you want?" You demanded, a slight crack in your voice giving away just how hurt you were at the moment.

Loid held your gaze, his eyes filled with pity as you fought back tears. He could tell what this revelation had done to you, he cared! If he didn't, he would have walked away the moment he got the chance, but he wasn't like that. No, he cared too damn much, maybe even more than you thought he did.

"The mission..." He sighed as if having to fight his own emotions, "Was to gain access to your father's company." He let out another sigh, the guilt still apparent in his tone. "...That's it."

"You have to understand that it was nothing personal. You were- you're just a target. A means to an end." His words grew more and more stern as he spoke, his face growing colder as he went. "I had no choice."

The tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you listened to him. A lowly chuckle from your end as he finished. You got up from your seat without saying any words and slowly made your way to the bedroom.

"(Y/n) wait." his voice echoed within the room. You stopped, pressing your lips into a thin line.

This was the first time he actually used your name. Something you never noticed before until now. You turned on your heels, tears staining your face.

"What?!" you yelled, "So that you can remind me that it was all a lie? What you said you felt for me? What you made me feel?" Your lips trembled, before you exhaled a shaking breath, chuckling. "I mean, of course it was. Who am I kidding?"

Loid stepped closer, his hands slowly reaching for your chin, his eyes meeting yours. The gaze was unbearable to you so you looked away.

"(Y/n)," a pause, "look at me, darling" he spoke, desperation in his voice.

"I felt something for you."

You froze once more upon hearing him use your name, the word seemed to have more meaning to it now than it ever had before. You let out a shaky breath as you took a moment to process what you just heard.

Your confusion was palpable as you paused for a moment before you asked. "Wh-what?" You fumbled, your voice small and quiet as you looked at him once again. He was being honest with you.

He sighed and looked away. "Things are complicated." He explained in a hushed voice. "I'm a spy, my life is not my own, I don't get to choose who I love."

"I can't change what I've done, but I can try and make up for it." And like an involuntary reflex, his thumb brushed over your bottom lip in a gentle stroke that made your heart flutter. "I know my words mean nothing to you now, but I can prove it... I want to make this up to you..."

Loid moved his face closer, "I want to... love you for real."

"How do I know you're not only saying this for the mission? How can I trust you?" you wanted to, truly, especially with the way he was looking at you right now. The way his touch made you feel.

"You can't." Loid answered, a solemn look in his eyes as the reality of your predicament finally hit you. "That's the curse of falling for a spy, isn't it?" He chuckled dryly, trying to sound optimistic but in truth he knew there was no way he could do that right now.

"But... I want to make you trust me." He continued, his eyes piercing into yours. "Can you give me that chance?" He questioned, his lips just an inch from your face right now.

Your hot breath fanned against his lips, as you neared him. You knew you shouldn't, you knew it could have been another one of his lies, tricks, ways to manipulate you. But, even it was just this one time, you wanted to give in. Just this once.

Your hands resting on his chest when your lips connected. Everything that had led up to this moment, the lies and the deception, was thrown out the window as Loid brought you in closer. It was soft....and warm...and felt so right.... You let yourself indulge in the kiss as the rest of the world seemed to melt away between you two.

Loid finally broke the kiss, his breath heavy as he gasped for air.

When he did, he stared deeply into your eyes for a few moments before he finally spoke.

"That's proof." He whispered as his voice trembled, his thumb still resting against you face as though savouring the moment. "That's proof it's all real."

A/n: also I guess you could tell by the end I kinda gave up… I might write a smut continuation on this so hang on tight or smth. Or not if this doesn’t get enough likes..haha…

#spy x family #loid forger #loid x reader #loid fluff #spy #action #fanfic #loid angst #loid x you #loid headcanons #loid fanfic #my life is just as boring #decided to spice it up with this fanfic ig #anime blog

160 notes · View notes

bella-rose29 · 6 months

Text

Not Your Lover - Chapter 6 (18+ version)

This is the 18+ version of Chapter 6.

For the safer version (whether that be because you're under 18 or just don't want to read it), please go here <3 (I tried my best to make it less explicit, so please please please let me know if I need to edit anymore because I wanna make sure that everybody can enjoy reading)

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: swearing, sex, like really explicit oral I won't lie to you, look away if you're not comfy with that (I'm sorry), davor is still stalking bc he has no life or personality

Tag list: idk who to tag tbh so I've tagged everyone in the safer part and linked this version to it :)

Y/n and Nikolai had settled into a routine within the first two days of staying in the same room, and he was starting to blur the lines in his head of what was real and what was fake.

It was dangerous, walking this line, especially since one wrong move could ruin everything that the two of them had built, but Nikolai knew that he was extremely close to throwing himself fully past reality. They had kept the pillow wall the first night, but when they had woken in roughly the same position as they had the first time that they shared a bed it made sense to forgo the divider completely. Neither of them appeared to be acknowledging it while asleep, and it saved some effort in the evening when they were getting ready for bed.

Work on the building had continued in much the same way as before, although Nikolai noticed that there was a little more tension in the air than usual. None of this was helped by the fact that he couldn't let his demon out at night anymore, and had resorted to staying late at the mansion after Y/n had headed back to the hotel room so that it stopped giving him a headache. Davor was still watching the two of them, following Nikolai around when he tried to go on a late night walk to take his demon fishing, and it was starting to get annoying. He had half a mind to confront the man, but somehow whenever Nikolai actually wanted to see Davor, he wasn't anywhere to be found. Y/n had mentioned that he was doing the same to her, but she didn't seem nearly as bothered about it.

Currently they were working on the floorboards of the first room, having pulled up the old ones and throwing them out, and Nikolai couldn't help but stare at Y/n every now and then as she worked. His demon snickered at him in his head, and Nikolai muttered a quiet "shut up" under his breath.

"Sorry? Did you say something?"

"Huh? No, nothing."

"Oh. Never mind."

They worked in silence again after that, the only sounds being the new floorboards being put down.

By the time sunset came around a few hours later, they'd managed to lay the whole floor, and Nikolai had replaced the windows, letting in the evening sun. He wiped his brow, wishing more than anything that he could take off some layers (but that would mean showing his scars for longer than a few seconds, and he didn't feel like having that conversation with Y/n yet. She'd probably also stab him or something).

"You alright? You look pretty sweaty."

"Yeah, I'm alright. Hopefully this heatwave brings in tourists," he replied, turning to look at her. That was a mistake, apparently, since he couldn't do anything but think about how gorgeous she looked in the golden light streaming in and lighting up her skin, making her look ethereal.

He was so screwed, and he knew that there wasn't any coming back now. He'd very nearly kissed her the other night, when she'd come in crying about her mother and he'd wiped away her tears, but the demon just had to pick that moment to make a noise. Nikolai had scolded it the whole way back to the hotel, and it had the good grace to at least seem sorry for getting in the way.

It had been a little awkward since, neither of them saying anything about the fact that they had very nearly kissed purely because they felt like it, and the tension was starting to kill Nikolai. They kept waking up tangled in each other too, and although he knew he shouldn't, he held on to her a little longer in the mornings, and his touch lingered a moment more when he passed her things. Whether she'd noticed, he had no idea, but at least she hadn't told him to stop being weird yet.

~~~

Nik was being weird.

He kept staring at Y/n, for one, and every now and then he would hold on to her for longer than fake boyfriends probably should. He was staring now, in fact, although why she had no idea. She was covered in dirt and sweat from working all day, both in the bakery and in the mansion, and she definitely needed a bath. Maybe he was staring at her because of that? Yeah, that made more sense. Although when she looked at him (not that she was sneaking glances or anything), she couldn't deny how gorgeous he looked in the light, the sunset making his golden hair glow.

He kept talking to himself too, and Y/n was starting to worry that he was going mad. She'd talked to Gregor about it that morning, and apparently Nik was doing it while he worked in the workshop. Gregor also looked like he knew something else, but despite Y/n's best efforts she couldn't get it out of him. The man was notoriously good at keeping secrets, but if it was about Nik then she wanted to know.

"I'm sure he'll tell you in his own time, Y/n/n," was all he had said, and Y/n had huffed and left not long after.

She snapped herself out of her thoughts, blush rising when she realised that she'd zoned out looking at him, and turned back to the wall that she was painting. They'd done good work today; Nik had managed to get the new windows in with the help of her father, and the three of them had finished off the floor. Y/n had picked out the paint a while ago, and had made a start on covering the walls.

"You know," she started, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Nik turn to face her. "I think we can do this. How long have we got left now, eight days?"

"Yeah, I think so. There's still the two other rooms to do though. I know they're both clear but it's going to be a stretch to get them done on top of this one. It's taken us this long to get this room nearly ready."

"What happened to mister 'we can do it!', huh? I've got a plan, don't worry."

"Is your plan hiring the entirety of Taya? Because I might be an optimist but this is bordering on impossible."

"I thought that nothing was impossible, only improbable," she quipped, mocking his voice.

"Was that... was that meant to be me?"

"I thought it was an excellent impression. Did you have a problem with it? I mean, personally I thought there were two of you for a moment."

Nik laughed, shaking his head. "You're ridiculous," he said, looking at her fondly. Y/n smiled lightly back at him, and they got lost in each others' gazes. Nik suddenly snapped out of it, whipping his head back to the curtain pole he was adjusting. Y/n moved her own attention back to the wall, feeling her face heat up.

Shit.

~~~

An hour or so later, the sun had fully set, and Nikolai had had to turn the chandelier on in the room so that he and Y/n could continue to work. The demon had, for once, helped Nikolai out, since its laughing at Nikolai and Y/n gazing at each other made him realise what he was doing. He'd quickly gone back to what he was doing, and a moment later he heard the brush of the paint on the wall.

Now they were in separate rooms, and Nikolai had looked to check that the demon wouldn't be seen before letting it out.

"No noise, alright? The second you make a noise you're back in, understood?" The demon had nodded and padded off into a corner of the room, starting to use its tail as a brush, collecting the remaining rubbish on the floor. Nikolai felt proud of it once more, seeing it trying to help, and hoped that it had learned something valuable from working hard. Saints, he sounded like the demon's teacher. Nikolai frowned, shuffling furniture around the room. He supposed he was in a way, teaching it how to be nicer. Maybe he'd be able to let it out more if he knew it would behave. He was glad for the distraction of the demon, since it stopped him from thinking too hard about Y/n, and having to keep half an eye on the little bastard was rather entertaining at times. It was a little like having a child, except the child was quite literally a demonic entity of darkness and destruction that enjoyed ripping people's faces off and generally making their lives complete and utter misery. Nikolai suddenly wondered if that was how Baghra had felt about the Darkling, and shuddered at the thought of baby Aleksander. The demon noticed, growling lowly at its creator, and Nikolai called it over softly, careful not to alert Y/n.

"Come here, that's it, there we go," he whispered, settling on the floor as his demon came and rested its head on his lap. It was strange, doing this, but he could sense that his demon was disturbed by Nikolai's thoughts of the Darkling. While the man had been responsible for the separation between Nikolai and his demon, the latter now shared the resentment that Nikolai harboured. No doubt it was remembering the battle with Fjerda too, and the multiple brushes with death. Since then they had only become closer, reaching an agreement that they would die for each other if needed.

"Nik? You alright in there?" Both Nikolai and his demon turned to look at the doorway where Y/n's voice had come from, and they glanced at each other before the demon crept off into the shadows.

"Yep, I'm alright." He pushed himself off of the floor just as Y/n walked in, paint on her trousers.

"I think I'm gonna head out now, I've done what I can on the walls. You coming?"

"Yeah, sure. Let me just grab my things," he smiled, and she returned it, heading back into the front room. He took the demon back in, telling it to stop fussing and hurry up, and followed her out, collecting his jacket from where he'd slung it over one of the armchairs.

~~~

They made it back to the hotel no problem, although Y/n could have sworn that she saw Davor following them when they went round a corner, and when they were up in Nik's room he pulled out a bottle of kvas and two glasses.

"Drink?"

"Sure."

Davor following them wasn't too disturbing for Y/n, given he was a deeply untrusting person and was probably trying to expose Nik and Y/n's relationship for what it was, but Nik seem more concerned. He brought it up as he poured, passing one glass to Y/n and taking his own over to the sofa in front of the fireplace. Despite the heatwave, the hotel room was somehow freezing (Y/n had no idea how the owners managed it), so they'd lit a fire.

"You really aren't worried about him stalking us?"

"No, not really. Why are you so worked up about it?"

"Um... because it's stalking? It's quite literally illegal. Also, what happens if he finds out none of this is real?"

Her heart hurt at his words, but she quickly dismissed it as nothing. "Nobody will believe him if he says anything, because they like us a whole lot more. Everybody knows he likes stirring up trouble for no good reason, and I've got a reputation, hell, you have a reputation now. We'll be fine." She sipped her kvas, grateful for the burn as it went down. It stopped her thinking too hard about Nik.

"If you're sure," he frowned, and Y/n wanted to smooth the lines on his face with her fingertips. He settled into the sofa next to her having finished fiddling with the fire, and it was cramped enough that his thigh brushed against hers. She pulled her legs up, turning so that her back was resting against the arm and she was facing him. Nik angled his body slightly so that he was looking towards her, shifting in his seat in a way that had Y/n hiding behind her glass and trying desperately to not think too hard about his lap. "You alright?" he asked, amusement in his eyes and a smirk on his face, and Saints damn it she was blushing and he fucking knew it.

"Yeah, I'm alright." He hummed, and Y/n felt her cheeks grow even warmer. "What? I am!"

"Okay! You just look a little... flushed," he responded, and she could hear the laughter in his voice, making her glare at him. "There it is! I've missed that glare," he joked, only succeeding in deepening her frown.

"Fuck off," she muttered as she sipped her kvas, and he laughed, loud and bellowing. Saints, she wanted to make him laugh more often.

Sleeping next to Nik tonight would be difficult, she decided as she watched him.

~~~

A few hours and half a bottle of kvas later, Nik and Y/n had loosened up significantly, and were spilling secrets that she would never dare to tell him were she sober.

He'd confessed that he was absolutely terrified of spiders, having been nicknamed 'Nikolai the spider squealer' by his childhood best friend, and was considered a general menace to society as a small boy.

"Oh yeah, I find that so difficult to believe," Y/n giggled sarcastically, and Nik's responding pout only made her laugh harder.

"What is that supposed to mean? I am an absolute delight to have around!" He put on a look of offence, and Y/n nearly spilled her drink when she held her sides from laughing. "Seriously!" He was laughing now, spluttering as he spoke and unable to get words out properly. A few minutes later when they'd calmed down enough (it took a while since whenever they looked at each other they burst out laughing again), he spoke up again. "Go on, your turn. I think it's been my turn the last three times," he frowned, trying to count in his head. Y/n thought for a moment, before coming up with something.

"Saints, I don't know why I'm even gonna tell you this," she laughed, pressing her hand to her forehead. "Okay. So, basically, I've never... I have never... you know." She waved her hand in the general direction of her lower half. Nik's eyes went wide.

"Wait. You've never had an orgasm?"

"No, I haven't!"

"No wonder you're so fucking grumpy all the time, Saints!"

"Oi! It's not exactly my fault! Davor never could and neither can I, I gave up trying to get myself off like six months ago."

"Bet I could," Nik said, sipping his drink.

"...What?"

"I said I bet I could."

They looked at each other, Nik studying her over his glass and Y/n feeling increasingly flustered at the direction their conversation had taken.

"Prove it."

He said nothing, still just looking her, and she was starting to regret her words. "Sorry. Stupid idea. Forget it." She turned her face away, staring into the fire. He was yet to say anything, and the atmosphere turned awkward.

"Are you?" he said, and Saints, why was his voice so low? "Are you sorry?"

"No," she whispered, and she was hyper-aware of the sound of his glass clinking against the side table as he set it down. She turned to look at him, breath leaving her body at the sight of him closer than before, eyes filled with something dangerous. She put her own glass down, nearly spilling it since she hadn't taken her eyes off of Nik. "Why?"

"Because I want to prove it."

Something snapped then, and Y/n surged forward to grab at his shirt with her hands and pull him in for a kiss. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself for a moment, but after barely a second he was responding, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pulled her into his lap, moaning softly, and Saints she wanted him to do it all over again. Her hands moved up to play with his hair the way that she'd wanted to since their first kiss in the square all those days ago, tangling in the locks and tugging every now and then as his hands grasped her hips. She wasn't sure how long they were there for, exploring each other his their hands and tongues, but every second of it was just as good as she'd imagined. He'd moved her hair out of the way to kiss down her neck, alternating between soft kisses and gently biting the skin, drawing sounds out of her that Davor never could. "Nik," she whispered into his hair, not missing the way his grip tightened on her hips. He slowly dragged his head back up, kissing as he went, before he pressed another to her mouth.

"Yeah?" His pupils were blown, the blue of his eyes nearly non-existent, and his lips were slightly swollen from kissing her.

"You gonna prove it or not?" she breathed, and he could only stare at her for a moment before nodding, and then she felt his hands at the top of her trousers, pulling up the fabric of her shirt. He hadn't taken his eyes off of her, silently asking if this was still alright, and they only broke eye contact when her shirt slipped over her head, landing on the floor a second later. He pulled her back in, kisses a little more gentle than before, and Y/n went to take Nik's shirt off. He hesitated slightly, and she paused, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. "This okay? You don't have to, if it's... I just... wanted to feel you, I guess." She blushed at the admission, and he smiled softly at her.

"It's okay, darling," and Saints she'd forgotten how her stomach dipped at the pet name. "I've just... got a lot of scars," he whispered, and Y/n immediately went to reassure him.

"That's okay. You're helping me out, not talking about your scars. but equally if you wanna do that then I'll listen," she said, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and she practically felt him melt under her. He moved back a little, giving himself room to take his clothes off. Nik paused for a moment, looking at his gloves, then made a decision and yanked them off, chucking them on to the side table next to his discarded drink. He glanced back up at her, waiting for her reaction as he settled his hands lightly on top of her thighs. Y/n could only stare at them, reaching out to hold one with her own hand but not quite touching. Most of the veins were black, and his fingers were the same, and as Y/n finally took hold of his hand, lacing their fingers together and turning his arm in her grip she noticed that the black veins continued partway up his forearms. "What..." She didn't finish, not sure where to go from there. Nik was transfixed by their interlocked hands, and his thumb was stroking hers.

"The Darkling," was his only response, and Y/n didn't know what to do other than press a gentle kiss to his mouth, cupping his face with her free hand. She pulled away, resting her forehead against his, and her hand moved down to rest over his heart.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. Not anymore."

She kissed him again, slow and careful, still holding his hand in hers.

"Do you wanna carry on?"

"Yes," he said into her mouth, hands sliding up higher on her thighs, pulling her closer to him, and Saints, he wasn't lying. She moved her hands to his shirt, tugging at the hem and lifting the fabric all the way off. Her fingers traced the lines of his chest, spending extra time on the scars and marks she found, and Nik's hands came up to rest on her back, pulling her flush against him. They kissed again, this time with more hunger, and in a sudden movement Nik had flipped them so that Y/n was lying on the sofa, legs half dangling off the edge as he situated himself between them, never taking his lips off of hers. He bit her lip, and she moaned as he slipped his tongue inside, hands moving over her sides as he shifted his hips into hers. Her grip tightened on his hair, and this time it was his turn to groan as he moved to kiss down her neck again. Nik tugged at the laces of her undershirt, pulling the clothing off a moment later and flinging it to the side. He stopped, sat up and staring down at her chest, and Y/n went to cover herself. Before she could, he'd grabbed her hands, shaking his head at her. "None of that, darling. You're stunning."

He lowered himself back down, nose brushing her chest as he asked for permission. She didn't hesitate, using her hands in his hair to all but shove him further into her, and a brief moment later he was lavishing her with his mouth again. He moved further down her body when he was satisfied he'd done enough, leaving a trail of kisses as he went, and then he was taking off her belt and looking up at her from where he now kneeled on the floor between her thighs.

"This okay, Y/n?"

"Yes," she breathed, helping him to take the rest of her clothes off. Nik kissed his way across her inner thighs, touching her everywhere but where she needed him most, and his hand on her hips was preventing her from pushing up. Annoyingly he was going to prove his point eventually, and Y/n could only begin to imagine how cocky he would be. All thoughts of anything but Nik went out of her head when he suddenly kissed her there, tentative and experimental, and Saints, the smug smirk he had on his face at her responding moan was enough to make her want to go right back to hating him.

She lost all sense of time as Nik touched her, drawing out new sounds with every movement. The hand that wasn't holding her down was helping to bring her closer, and somewhere in the haze of her pleasure Y/n thought about his blackened fingers on her skin and inside her and she gripped his hair tighter (she also had a vague thought that his scalp would hurt after this, but he didn't seem to mind at the moment), urging him to keep going.

He did, never once stopping his actions until he'd pushed her over the edge, hold on her hips getting stronger (she'd have bruises, she was sure) as she shook, and then again when he did it for a second time.

He moved back up her body a while after, having left soft kisses behind as she came down from the high, and when she brought his face down to kiss her it was soft and more loving than it should have been given they weren't actually together.

"You alright?" he asked, nose nudging against her cheek. She could only nod, wiped out. She could feel him smiling, the cheeky fucker, and she half-heartedly slapped his arm, trying to not think too hard about how toned it was. "What?" he smiled, pulling back to look at her.

"Nothing, just, you're a lot more... I don't know," she trailed off, blushing at his stare. "You have very nice arms," she decided on, and Nik's immediate laughter made her flush even more. "Shut up," she mumbled, turning her face to hide in the back of the sofa. She felt Nik's hand cup her chin, bringing her face back towards his as he planted a kiss on her lips, lingering for a while.

"Thank you," he whispered, amused smile still present. "You have very nice tits, if that helps."

"Nik!"

~~~

Nikolai had no idea where the two of them went from here, but he wouldn't take back a single second of it.

He'd helped clean Y/n up, and then had helped her move to the bed, passing her one of his clean shirts to sleep in. He went without the gloves as he got into bed next to her, leaving them sat on the table in front of the fire. He was just pulling his boots off when he felt Y/n's fingers on his back, tracing over the scars from the demon's wings. Her hands flattened on his back, then moved around his torso and under his arms as she pushed herself against him, pulling his head to hers to kiss him. The angle was awkward, so Nikolai shook his boots off and turned around, cupping her cheek to deepen the kiss. He clambered in next to her, breaking away, and pulled the sheets up over them. At Y/n's pout he simply chuckled, and brought her down to lie next to him, and she slung her arm over his chest and her leg over his, falling asleep not long after.

Nikolai stayed awake a while longer, thinking over everything that had happened. He really didn't know where they went from here, but no matter what, he needed to tell her the truth before they got too far in.

Chapter 7

#grishaverse #netflix shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai lanstov x y/n #nikolai x y/n

27 notes · View notes

kittywritesfics · 1 year

Text

and the spring day came at last

🐶puppy hybrid!jungkook x gangster!jimin

🏷️ in which mob boss jimin is seeking companionship and shelter hybrid jungkook has lost hope of ever finding a good home.

❗️references to gang violence perpetrated by jimin; hybrid mistreatment, specifically use of shock collars, though NOT perpetrated by jimin; hurt 'n' sad puppy boy koo but he eventually gets love ‘n’ care i promise <3

Romance always bloomed with the cherry blossoms, and Jimin was determined not to spend another spring alone.

It was difficult finding true companionship as a businessman who ran the underside of Seoul’s economy, but there truly was nothing that money could not buy and Jimin had long-since earned wealth in excess. Though expensive, a hybrid would be the perfect companion as they technically could never leave him and would be grateful for whatever shred of affection he managed to show.

When it came down to it, there really was no way Jimin could've gotten his hybrid anywhere other than Seoul's Second Chances. While he could easily adopt the rarest and best-trained breeds, there was something undeniably cruel to him about leaving sentient beings to wither away with the dying hope of being rehoused. Even he, with his bloody hands and cold reputation, could recognize that.

So there he was, the only customer in the huge shelter that opened after-hours for the CEO. Most of the hybrids were fast asleep in their tiny, cell-like rooms, but sniffling on the other side of door forty-three had him pausing. This was the only room without a window for potential adopters to peek through, and there was a strange red tag tied around the handle. This door had more locks secured to the outside than even the exotics' a few aisles back.

Jimin stopped walking.

"Oh! Mr. Park, sir, he’s nothing to consider. I can wake up some of the other hybrids if you'd like?" The owner said, noticing where his attention had drifted. The owner was human just as Jimin, but something about him was strongly reminiscent of a weasel. "We have some very well behaved Main Coons and Labradors just down the hall. Domestics are perfect for first-time owners."

If anything, his vague dissuasion had Jimin only further interested in what, who, lied beyond this door. Visions of a grizzly the size of Namjoon or a pit viper more poisonous than Yoongi flashed before his eyes, and he felt the intrigue growing.

"Tell me about this one," He ordered, pointing a ringed finger toward the mysterious door number forty-three.

The owner squirmed, obviously not liking where the conversation was headed.

"He’s a mutt, sir. A dog with no distinguishing characteristics other than his hostility. He’s a biter and will never be rehomed because of it. A very bad boy all around. We're keeping him here until the President finally passes the bill to put down dangerous hybrids. Now, if you'd like me to wake up—"

Jimin was a man who enjoyed challenges, and being denied one so blatantly did not sit well with him, nor did the clear lack of a second chance this unnamed hybrid was given. Wasn't that this shelter's whole brand? So what if the mutt was vicious; wasn't it their job to train it out of him?

Besides, maybe Jimin could make do with a mean beast of a hybrid. Most of his dealings were.... Less than savory and not exactly above board, so perhaps a guard dog would be the perfect replacement for Hoseok. He'd grown tired of seeing his good friend laying his life on the line for him everyday.

"I want to see this one," he said, an air of finality in his voice.

This was the tone he used when making offers no one could refuse, and the owner seemed to realize that. He nodded without another word, pulling a set of keys from his belt and a small remote out of his pocket. As he began unlocking an unnerving amount of bolts, the owner passed the remote to Jimin.

"You can press the red button for three seconds if he tries to bite, Mr. Park. I advise against any sudden movements or close contact, and there shouldn't be a problem. Knock when you're ready to come out," he explained quickly, as if he was ready for Jimin to take a look at the mutt and move on to a real sale.

What a prick. If he wasn't inches from the nameless, faceless hybrid that had captured his attention by reputation alone, Jimin would've decked him. That was saying something: the CEO didn't like to get his hands dirty; his rings were too expensive to bloody up. As soon as the heavy metal door creaked open, Jimin couldn't resist going inside, curiosity at an all time high.

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this.

The owner had shut him in with the supposed wild beast, but Jimin merely felt like he was in Namjoon's bedroom. It was monk-like with no decor or personal items like he'd seen in other rooms, but books were stacked high against the wall. His eyes caught on a few titles atop the piles, and he was confused to see the most boring assortment of texts possible. It was as if the hybrid's collection was intentionally devoid of anything that could be pleasurable or stimulating.

Other than the books, there was only a single mattress on the floor, so flat it was barely inches from the ground. Atop the mattress was the supposed aggressive, hopeless, bloodthirsty biter.

Two furry ears flopped across a tangled mess of dark hair, just visible from where the majority of the hybrid was cocooned in one of the standard issue blankets he'd noticed in every room. Large doe eyes peeked out at Jimin from a gap in the fabric, and the dark pools were sadder than any he'd ever seen before. Something like alarm and fear swirled within them, and as Jimin stepped further into the room, the blanket tightened around the small form perched atop the mattress. He looked like a child, a pup, and a terrified one at that.

"Hello," Jimin said evenly, allowing a rare ounce of kindness to warm his tone.

The hybrid made no move to speak, and, acting on impulse, Jimin sat down directly on the floor. His Brioni suit trousers had never touched anything as grimy as the cold tile of this hybrid's cell, but the act of ease was one made instinctively. Perhaps the little thing wouldn't tremor so violently if he wasn't being towered over.

"My name is Park Jimin, and I'm looking for a friend to come home with me," he explained politely when the silence had stretched too long.

The smile on his face was a foreign thing, but he knew from his mother's cooing that it made him look much softer. So he simply beamed at the unidentifiable mass on the bed, refusing to speak another word until the hybrid did. His intentions had to become clear when the room grew uncomfortably silent and he didn't move to break it.

The hybrid shuffled slightly, peering down at him with mistrust and a little bit of what looked like awe. Finally, a very timid voice sung out from beneath the bundles of fabric.

"Bad dogs can’t have friends, sir," he said, the words spoken in such a way that Jimin knew he was repeating something he'd been told before, maybe many times. The hurt tenor in his voice sent a pang straight through Jimin's heart of ice.

Jimin got the sense that this puppy wanted a friend very, very much.

At this, the smile Jimin had painted on his face dimmed. Ever so gently, he asked, "And why do you think you're a bad dog, hm? You sound rather polite to me."

The hybrid's eyes left him for the first time, peering down shamefully at the floor. For a moment, Jimin thought he wouldn't answer. They both knew he had been told about the hybrid’s history of biting, but for some reason, Jimin wanted to hear it from the pup himself. Someone so quiet and shy couldn't be a vicious creature like he'd been made out to be. It just wasn't adding up.

"Only bad dogs bite their owners," the dog mumbled softly, hastily adding, "sir" to the end of his confession.

Surprise jolted through Jimin's chest as he realized tears were rapidly welling up in the puppy’s dark eyes. Living with the brand of a bad dog was killing him, that much was obvious. Jimin could practically hear his heart break as he spoke. The man's instincts were rarely wrong, and Jimin's were telling him that this hybrid was a very good boy indeed.

"Why did you bite your owner?" He asked softly, trying his best to avoid sounding judgmental.

Though most of his face was still covered, Jimin could hear the pout in his voice as he said, "He pressed the button too much, sir."

Jimin didn't understand until the hybrid’s eyes flicked at the remote loosely held between his fingers, looking away quickly after like the sight alone hurt him. Still, Jimin didn't know what his words or the remote meant. He said as much, and the pup hesitated for a very long time. Those big eyes looked over every inch of his face for a few stretched moments before apparently finding what he was hoping for. What it was, Jimin hadn't a clue.

Jimin had seen men get their brains blown out more times than he cared to think about, but nothing had ever disturbed him more than the sight revealed to him when the hybrid unraveled himself from the blanket. The fabric pooled around his hips to unveil an oversized jumper drowning tense shoulders and clenched fists, but what really got his attention was the heavy black collar fastened around the pup’s slender throat. Unlike the other collars he'd seen on hybrids, this one had a small box on the side, and Jimin assumed it was responsible for the violently red and purple ring burned into the hybrid’s pale skin.

Jimin dropped the remote like it burned his fingers, and the hybrid flinched at the sound of it clattering against the floor.

They'd put an electric shocking collar on this little puppy boy, a device that was rarely used for the most feral of predators. If Jimin were anyone else, he would be sick or maybe cry. But he was Park Jimin, and all he wanted to do was burn down the world. Maybe he would, after his hybrid was safely holed up in his penthouse suite, far from any danger that could ever befall him again. Yes, that sounded like a grand idea; coming home to the sweet pup after tearing apart everyone who had ever mistreated a defenseless thing like him.

"I think I see now," he said quietly, and he did. He saw it all quite clearly. "You've been very polite when speaking to me, and I can see it in your eyes that you're a good puppy. It's your previous owner who was bad, and the man who runs this shelter is bad, too. Is that right? I don't think you have it in you to be a bad dog, baby."

He was right, of course, and, almost in disbelief, the hybrid affirmed his words with an eager nod. His black ears flapped with the movement and Jimin was hopelessly endeared. More tears spilled down the pup’s cheeks as he looked at Jimin like he was an angel sent from heavens he'd almost started to believe weren't real. How could the sheltered hybrid know that sitting before him was the devil himself? But from the way this puppy boy regarded Jimin, nothing could make him believe the actual, ugly truth.

The longer he stared, those tears turned into tiny rivulets trickling down his red cheeks. Jimin fought the urge to wipe them away, suspecting that he’d never let the poor thing go when they finally touched.

"Do you want to come home with me? You'll never have to wear a collar like that again. All you'll have to do is be the good puppy I know you are," Jimin said softly, almost crooning at the hybrid. "I'll take the best care of you. You'll be so happy and safe, forever."

Jimin was saying the words quite clearly, but they were foreign in his voice. Never before had he spoken so warmly to anyone, let alone a hybrid he'd met minutes ago. The fury he felt at the realization of these circumstances had given way to something strange and much more terrifying. An overwhelming sense of affection had gripped his heart when the boy nodded so desperately at his first question. He'd been treated so poorly, so unfairly, and yet he could still look with eyes that twinkled like stars; he looked that way at Jimin.

Yes, Jimin was determined for this to work out, and he always got what he wanted.

"Yes, sir, please. Please wanna go with you," he answered so quietly it was a mere whisper. The response was nearly drowned out by the sound of dull thumping just behind him, and as Jimin stood, he saw the long black tail wagging with excitement. It nearly sent him back to the floor, knees threatening to give out.

Fondness for the sweet little thing warmed his body so genuinely that it came as a shock. In the span of one short conversation, this hybrid had melted the icy shield around his heart and wiggled his way in. If he didn't step outside to get a grip on himself right then, Jimin knew he would do something irrational like sweep the puppy into a hug and murmur promises of all the good things to come.

"Good. I'd like that very much," Jimin said sincerely, understating just how overwhelming his want was. "And no more calling me sir, please. I'm your Jiminie, and you're my good puppy. Do you have another name you want me to call you?”

The puppy wiggled a little bit at the praise and said shyly, “My name’s Jungkookie, b-but I like it lots when—when you call me ‘good puppy.’”

The admission sent a pretty pink blush rising up to the pup’s cheeks, and Jimin hummed in satisfaction.

“Well, good puppy, pick out your favorite books; we're going home."

Jimin's promises were golden and even more rare because he never broke them. The hybrid smiled so brightly it nearly stole his breath, the utter joy emanating from him so pure and all because of him. Yes, they would stay like this forever. He was sure of it.

The shelter owner had quaked earlier at Jimin's no nonsense tone, but this low, ever so calm register was the one he truly should be afraid of. When Jimin grew unnervingly quiet, it was because he was beside himself with rage. This was the side of him that ran Seoul's underground with an iron fist and empty conscience. This was the man who ordered death and destruction like it was Sunday brunch. As he stood in the disorganized clutter of Second Chance's main office, Jimin was moments away from doing just that.

"I don't give a fuck about your bullshit sealed history policy. You'll give me the name of her previous owner, and you'll do it right goddamn now before I really grow impatient. You're lucky I haven’t had your neck snapped for putting that ugly fucking shocking contraption on her," Jimin seethed, monstrous anger biting in every syllable.

The last time he’d been this angry, his gang had laid siege over every outfit south of the Han; it was the start of Park Jimin’s terrible reign. The owner seemed to realize then that he was in grave danger.

Jimin had lied, though. The owner was already dead, and he had been since the moment Jimin laid eyes on his pup in that atrocious collar. The only reason the owner still breathed was because he was the only one here to take care of the hybrids for the night. Hoseok was under orders to see him disposed of the minute employees arrived the next morning; he'd texted the situation to his enforcer right after leaving his pup. Hoseok sent question mark emojis at the delay in wiping out the man who had mistreated the hybrid, but Jimin had his reasons. The thought of other creatures like his sweet boy left all alone broke the heart Jimin just remembered he had, so the owner would live for a few more hours.

But there was no reality in which he went unpunished for locking that shock collar on Park Jimin’s hybrid.

"Sir, I'm so sorry, sir. I'll get the file now. You have to understand, he nearly took off three of his fingers. We had to use precautions. Please don't–"

Jimin turned before he finished, not wanting to waste another moment with the scum. As he left the office, he called over his shoulder for the man to deliver the file to his driver. Hoseok would get a good look at him then, the man he’d make disappear in a few short hours. It was a familiar dance for his head enforcer; there wasn’t a hit that Jimin fulfilled without Hoseok having a hand in it.

The walk back to door number forty-three was relatively short, but Jimin appreciated the moment of silence to process this night.

When he entered Second Chances, he had prepared to leave with a tough companion to share his life with. Now, for the first time in a long time, he couldn't think straight because of a pretty face with doe eyes that looked at him like he hung the moon and each star. The thought of coming home to a place that wasn't empty and soulless delighted him more than he cared to admit, and if the puppy kept up the clear admiration he felt for the man, Jimin knew the ache that had grown like mold in his chest these past few years would heal very quickly.

Jimin would be better than he was before with something as sweet as Jungkookie in his life. It felt like spring had arrived in earnest for Jimin after years of cold winter, the gentle caress of affection an unfamiliar and welcome sensation in his heart.

💖💗💓💞💘💝🩷

hi!!! so here’s this… it’s a preview draft of one of the misc works I’ve had written for a long time and just decided to post. this is just the first part as sort of a drabble teaser… I’m going to post the full thing to ao3 eventually if y’all want to read the rest! lmk what you think via the message option.. I’m very curious 🙈

#hybrid bts #puppy jungkook #jeon jungkook x park jimin #jikook fanfic #park jimin fic #jimin fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts hybrid fic #jikook fic #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x park jimin fic #my writing 🖋️

83 notes · View notes

one-winged-dreams · 4 months

Text

Holy Flame's Gift (or whatever the fuck it's called)

ship: adri x leslie kyle, fm: adri & chocobo sam source: final fantasy vii word count: 1768

UHHH. UHHHHH. Christmas is in like three days and I'm NOT anticipating that shit lmfao, breaking in the new boy with trauma venting.

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @camellias-and-coriander @rebel-wolf13 @sunstar-of-the-north @mahitoslittlebird @goldenworldsabound @edencantstopfallininlove @sosoftandsweet @dorothys-wife @faerie-circle-ships @kylars-princess

Leslie had been present for what was possibly, if the timeline matched up, the beginning of Adri's spiral. Hanging around at the bar after hours, waiting for him to finish up and clock out, it had presumably all started with a conversation with his manager.

"Oh yeah, holidays are about to end. I'm gonna need you to put something festive together for the remaining week, think you can do that?"

Linda's request was reasonable enough, all things considered. It wouldn't be an unfair assumption to say that the usual patrons would get a kick or two out of some cheeky holiday spirit. The thought had Leslie's eyes rolling, but he clearly wasn't the only one with a less-than-enthusiastic response.

"N-No. No, that's stupid. I'm not gonna do that," Adri muttered, his air of confidence having plummeted to something mopey.

A perfectly drawn-on eyebrow raised as Linda regarded him.

"Uh, I'm kinda gonna have to insist. You're gonna clash with everyone else if you don't."

"NO!" the way Adri snapped startled both Linda and Leslie, though the latter was lingering near the back, pretending he wasn't listening.

"Geez, what's your damage tonight?" Linda made a point of rubbing her ear.

Adri's gaze burned, something that was hardly ever over something unwarranted.

"I'm not dressing for the STUPID FUCKING holidays, I'll call out if I need to. FUCK! Fucking ridiculous…" Adri trailed off with a mutter, grabbing his coat and making his way towards the exit without so much as closing his conversation OR addressing Leslie.

Linda and Leslie gave each other a look, both of their expressions an admission of ignorance. Leslie took this opportunity to take his leave and, upon exiting the bar, noticed that Adri was nowhere to be found. He huffed, shrugging to himself and taking this as to assume that Adri probably needed time to cool down. After all, he sure as hell wasn't getting mixed up in his personal business if Adri didn't want him to.

This had, again, presumably, led to the situation that Leslie currently faced.

It was a stupid notion in retrospect, he probably should have considered if a holiday gift was something within the realm of their dynamic. They had presented each other with little materialistic things before, but it had always been less ceremoniously. Obligation holidays were just that - an obligation.

But he had ignorantly figured that something USEFUL would circumvent the awkwardness of holiday obligation. It was nothing extravagant, nothing that even Leslie knew would be awkward to receive. Just a replacement for the more than worn tote bag that Adri carried around. A heartfelt gesture but a practical one.

Adri was at Sam's when Leslie had offered it to him. He hadn't wrapped it or put it in a cute bag or something stupid like that, but there was at least a cute ribbon wrapped around the strap. Even THAT he was embarrassed of.

Eyes widening in surprise was expected, the hard swallowing of a contracted throat not so much.

"Leslie, you… Why?" Adri's voice wavered, and it was when his shoulders began to tremble that Leslie suspected he had fucked something up.

"I mean. You know. Just thought I'd get you something because… Yeah. 'Sides. You needed a new one, bad," he tried to play off the gesture, make it less personal and more casual.

Not that that seemed to help in the slightest, as tears started forming in Adri's eyes.

"I… You didn't… You didn't have to DO that. I don't- Just don't worry about it, I didn't need anything. I didn't-" A shaky breath, "I didn't know you were gonna get me something, I don't have anything to…"

Leslie's eyebrows furrowed. He had been utterly unprepared for THIS type of awkwardness.

"I mean, you don't have to return the favor or anything. I just wanted to get you something you needed, might as well do it now," was all he could really come up with to try and de-escalate.

Adri hiccuped, and Leslie realized it was to cover a sob. This sort of emotional reaction was extremely uncharacteristic, and it was utterly unclear what was the best course of action to take.

"Just- Just go return it, get your money back. I'll… I'll pay you the difference if you can't. Fuck, just- I'm going home," Adri valiantly attempted to keep his voice from cracking or wavering, ultimately prevailing until the last sentence. Seemingly humiliated by his outburst, he pushed past Leslie and flung the door open, letting it slam shut on its own.

"Feelin' like you fucked up a bit there, aren'tcha?"

The sound of Sam's voice reminded Leslie that he had been there the whole time, holding his arms out in exasperation as he turned to face him.

"I figured something awkward, I didn't know he was gonna blow his top," Leslie scoffed. He sounded irritable, but genuine concern rang clear despite his tone.

"You know how tempermental he is. But is it ever baseless?" Sam folded his arms, Leslie becoming aware that he was hinting at something.

The connection was clear, everything Sam and Adri himself had told Leslie lining up like puzzle pieces. Taking off his hat, Leslie ran his fingers back through his hair in exasperation.

"Even over just a stupid holiday present?" he sighed, realizing his anger wasn't directed at Adri, or Sam, or anyone who didn't live ABOVE the plate.

Sam only responded with a nod and a hum of confirmation at first, but as he watched Leslie start to pace, he relented a bit more than he felt he should.

"When you've been raised the way he was, you start thinkin' everything's a weapon to be used against you. Even from the people that you love. Hell, maybe even especially."

Suddenly pensive, Leslie looked at the tote, the ribbon he had needed someone to teach him to tie into a cute bow now difficult for even him to look at.

"Fuck…" he sighed, shoving his hat back on his head. A moment of contemplation produced another sigh, and it was his turn now to walk away without closing the conversation.

When Adri opened the door, it was more than clear that he had been crying - hard. Leslie's presence seemed to startle him, a sniffle and a desperate swipe at his eyes being played off as if they were nothing. As if he were just greeting his boyfriend at the door.

"Oh, heyyyy. Did I forget something at Sam's?" Adri asked casually, not yet inviting Leslie in.

The latter tilted his head, gesturing.

"Uh, no, but can I come in? It's kinda cold out here…" he rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, avoiding eye contact until he realized he was doing so.

"Uh," Adri started, pausing as his mouth opened, then shut, then opened again, "I mean, it's kind of a mess-"

"It's ALWAYS a mess. Either let me in or tell me to fuck off, just pick one please?"

The bluntness made Adri blink, his mouth staying shut for a moment before it was clear Leslie had made the right approach.

"Fine, since you're so desperate for my company."

The half-assed teasing and the way Adri opened the door to allow Leslie in was promising at least.

It was more than routine for Leslie to make himself at home, and things had eventually settled to the point where Adri was comfortable sitting next to him on the couch. But not before he was shifting around on his feet, trying to avoid it.

Now that he WASN'T, Leslie leaned back into the cushions, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

"It doesn't have to be a present," as he spoke, he elicited a jolt from Adri.

"I mean… You still didn't have to. I know I freaked the fuck out back there, but…" Adri punctuated by biting his lip.

"You're fine, I get it. You don't gotta apologize to me for that kinda stuff. I thought you knew that."

Adri's head turned to look at him, Leslie's eyes still closed and his arms resting on the edge of the couch. Utterly casual.

"Well I feel shitty about it, maybe I want to apologize anyway. Maybe it'll make me feel better."

Now Leslie's eyes opened, lifting his head and staring pointedly.

"So you're telling me even if you don't have to do something, you can just want to anyway. Is that it?"

A moment of ignorance ticked by as Adri's eyebrows furrowed, followed by the return of his opening and closing mouth as realization dawned on him.

"You-!"

"Listen. I'm not telling you you have to accept anything from me. If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop. But I don't owe you anything, and you don't owe ME anything. Ever. You know I'm not gonna hold anything over your head, right?" Leslie leaned forward now, forcefully reaching over and grabbing one of Adri's hands. "Never. You don't have to put up with that shit anymore. Just… Trust me. Okay?"

The tears flowed once more, no surprise this time. They welled in Adri's eyes, and though he didn't let go of Leslie's hand, he began to desperately swipe at them again.

"Goddammit…! Did you put that together yourself or did Sam open his big fucking mouth again?" Hiccuping a sob again, he suddenly threw himself into Leslie's chest. Leslie choked for a second, releasing Adri's hand to hold his arms up before they inevitably wrapped around him. Beating him to words, Adri followed up weepily, "Fuck it, it doesn't matter."

Responding only with silence, Leslie just regarded the crying mess. The way their dynamic had subtly shifted throughout their acquaintance was… Staggering. After being relentlessly pursued by this flirtatious disaster, Adri lying against him, crying in an open display of emotional vulnerability, had Leslie wondering how he had gotten so comfortable with this. How this had become a natural occurrence, for both of them, even. He looked over at the bag, lying on the ground where he had shed it without Adri noticing.

"I love it, Leslie. Thanks."

Leslie was almost startled at that moment, blinking wildly as his gaze returned to Adri. Adri who lay against his chest, eyes closed and a teary smile adorning his lips.

"That's… good. I tried to fit your tastes. Your non-trashy ones, at least."

"You're sweet. I'll have to get you something cute in return."

"You don't-"

"But first, I think I'll give you something to hold you over until I do. It's already wrapped and everything. You should take care of that."

Leslie could only sigh.

#self ship #self shipping #virus fics #hot mess

14 notes · View notes

seradyn · 3 months

Text

WIP WED- I mean Saturday

Thank you @blossom-adventures and @savage-rhi for tagging me on this, and also for your patience. Writing has been hard for me lately (aka the last 6 months or so) but yall have inspired me and I finally got a chunk I am happy sharing :) Hope you enjoy ~ 💕

As always if anyone who wants to do this sees it then please do. Share you works with us!

A Dream Come True Chp13

You were quite shocked by the crowd that had gathered around the gates when you got there. The area surrounding the road was overrun with people, held back only by imperial troops and MTs. A mix of paparazzi, citizens and press, given the near constant flash of cameras and how everyone was pushing and shoving their way to the front, trying to glimpse any of the nobles who passed by. Some were even bold enough to reach microphones over the crowd on long poles, hoping to steal an interview or two. They appeared ravenous, almost feral. Untamed animals held back by a thin layer of soldiers.

You pressed yourself into your seat subconsciously, hoping none were able to capture your face as you waited for the gates to open.

The inside was much less crowded, but no less bustling with excitement and activity. A line of cars slowly inched their way to the palace doors, only stopping to let out what you could only assume were the richest people in Niflheim. You’d thought the people outside La Compañera had been fancy, but these people were…almost excessive in their display of wealth. Some of their garments had so many seequines you found yourself squinting at them, while others had bunches of fabric that stuck out ridiculously. You were rather glad Ardyn had picked something more “normal” for you to wear, compared to these outfits.

As normal as it was for you to wear something worth more than your paycheck.

You felt your heart clench as you watched them, carefree and light as they walked into the palace. While they all made merry, all you could feel was a crippling sense of dread as you pulled up to the front, Justin stepping out of the car. Your hands went clammy - how were you supposed to mingle with these people? What could you even say to them? You were sure they would be able to tell you were different, the black sheep in their happy flock, just as you had always been.

Gods, what made you think this was a good idea?

You weren’t left any more time to ponder it. Your door swung open, and you instinctively stepped out, shielding your eyes from the lights. Laughter and the hum of distant conversations wafted down the stairs, enveloping you with what was to come. You stared numbly at the couples who ascended the steps, until you faintly registered the car hum to life, and Justin sped off into the night.

No turning back now.

One foot in front of the other.

Your legs began to move, and you followed the other nobles into the palace. The interior was unsurprisingly decorated the same way the exterior was. Servants darted about with trays of liquor in hand, and golden silk had been woven around the marble columns in the foyer. Another tapestry hung from the high ceiling, a dominating centerpiece with only the tilt of a head. The usual MTs that guarded the palace were replaced by regular troops, who watched over the party goers like a rooster over his hens. For the lack of MTs, you were at least grateful.

Even though the party was taking place in the main ballroom, a fair number of guests lingered here. Excited greetings were exchanged as old friends reunited, hands shaken and embraces given. Many quickly dove into conversation, too distracted by it to proceed to the main event.

You observed this all silently for a few moments, admiring the decorations before hurriedly crossing the room. You remembered what Ardyn had told you about getting to the ballroom, and you didn’t trust yourself to not forget in a fit of anxiety. You kept your head down and walked smartly, as Ardyn had shown you, trying to blend in to the crowd. It didn’t escape your notice though, how some of the guests turned their heads, eyebrows rising as you scampered past them.

Down the hall, third door on the left. Down the hall, third door on the left.

With every step you repeated the words, determined not to lose yourself in the winding halls of the palace. Justin’s week old warning rang hollowly in your ears, and you had no desire to make good on that threat.

Really though, you had no reason to worry; the grand ballroom was loud and lively, echoing through the corridors like a festive beacon. A wave of anxiety made your heart stutter as you followed the other guests, passing through a massive set of double doors to arrive at the gala.

The room was massive, certainly the biggest room you had ever seen. Much like the rest of the palace, it was carved of polished white marble from floor to ceiling, making the streaming overhead lights almost painfully bright. Pillars with elegant designs lined each side of the room, holding a beautiful domed ceiling. As your gaze followed them upward, you could see the ceiling was actually painted, what you guessed was a depiction of the first oracle and the hexathon.

You found yourself swallowing thickly as you tore your eyes away from the image, instead choosing to focus on the rest of the decor. Tables with gold and white linens were strewn about, while longer ones pushed to the sides were covered in a banquet of high end foods. To the left, a full bar had been set up, rows of colorful bottles reflecting the light onto staff as they mixed drinks for the guests. Farther back and to the right, a makeshift throne had been set up, complete with guards who clutched heavy assault rifles at their hips. The emperor would surely be making an appearance tonight.

Though what had you staring wide eyed into the expanse of the room was the massive ocean of nobles and the like that stretched from one end to the other. This…this was way more people than you had been expecting to see. You were expecting a crowd, yes, but…this was absurd. There wasn’t much space from one person to another, and whatever space there was got filled by the dozens of servants darting around, holding trays filled with everything from food, to liqueur, even to white roses.

It was all…It was all too much.

————————————————————————

That’s all for now. It’s up to 4K words so it’s coming along, just slow. Hope yall look forward to seeing it 🥰

#ardyn #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #ardyn x reader #ardyn izunia x reader #ardyn x you #a dream come true #ffxv fanfic

13 notes · View notes

commander-krios · 7 months

Text

R & R

Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Archiban "Doc" Kimble/f!Jedi Knight, f!Jedi Knight & Theron Shan Rating: Teen Summary: Theron plans some elaborate gift for Katona after the capture of Darth Malgus, as a way to give his Commander and best friend a chance to relax. Somehow, he ropes Doc into it. Words: 4160 Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, SWTOR Summer Gift Exchange, Fluff, Humor, Love, Established Relationship, Banter, Teasing, Background Lana/Theron

Written as a gift for @sealeneee for the SWTOR Summer Gift Exchange <3

Read on AO3

Doc was a man of many talents, most of those being of the medical variety, but he knew what he was good at and made the best of what he wasn’t. He could field stitch a wound under heavy blaster fire. He cured diseases that most people gave up on. He saved civilians while pretending to be an Imperial and almost lost his head for it.

And despite all of the years they’d spent apart, Doc was somehow married to a Jedi.

Even now, when Katona was at the head of a neutral organization, working tirelessly to see her grand plans for the galaxy come to fruition, some nights spent at the desk in her room, pouring over datapads and flimsi like he had once upon a time, she still managed to squeak in time with him. And he was humbled by it.

But ever since the reemergence of Malgus, ever the wily Sith, Katona’s time seemed less available and the free time she did have was spent in tense silence. There were nights he’d fall asleep alone, waking the next morning to find her side of the bed hadn’t been touched. It was almost starting to feel like before, when he thought she was dead. And he didn’t like the way it made him feel.

The medical bay was silent, Elara Dorne working through paperwork while Doc restocked their supplies. It was usually him and Elara there most days. Sometimes Tharan Cedrax would show to aid them, especially during the days when they had wellness checks or a recent battle with many injured. Unfortunately, those days were steadily increasing, thanks to Malgus.

With a sigh, he closed the cupboard, only noticing that they were no longer alone. Katona’s advisor was standing in the doorway, eyes squinting against the brightness of the room.

Theron Shan.

Elara noticed him nearly at the same time, pretty blue eyes widening at the sight of the former SIS turned double agent turned whatever the hell he was now. “Agent Shan, what can I do for you?”

Theron’s eyes glanced in Doc’s direction and he immediately had an unsettling feeling in his gut. Something had happened.

Theron rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, turning back to Elara with a tense smile. “I need to speak to Doc, if that’s alright.”

Worry creased her brow, but she didn’t ask questions. Elara knew when it was needed and when it wasn’t. And at this moment, it was important for her to remember decorum. “Of course. Will I need to call in anyone to replace him for the day?”

Theron nodded, his mouth turning into a grim line. “That’d be best. Thank you, Elara.”

A few minutes later, Doc followed Theron out of the medbay, not exactly looking forward to whatever secret conversation was about to take place. There were many things they could be about, but the most likely reason was Katona. About his wife. That didn’t sit right with him, he’d barely spoken two words to Theron since he’d arrived, even knowing that Katona and Theron had a friendship that bordered on a sibling rivalry. He never fit into their dynamic.

And in truth, he never wanted to. Katona had found a friend to rely on, to confide in, much like Doc had Kira, Scourge, Nadia and the other Jedi for years on Ossus. He wasn’t going to ruin a friendship when that’s all it was. He couldn't help the jealousy he felt at knowing this man beside him had been beside Katona for well over six years: fighting by her side, protecting her, helping her build something amazing. Theron had even protected her from assassins by risking his own life when Doc couldn’t. He’ll forever be grateful for it.

But even now that they’d reunited, Theron saw more of Katona than he did.

“What happened?” He asked before the door had even hissed behind them.

Theron sighed, rubbing the spot near his implant, exhaustion creating dark circles under his eyes. Katona wasn’t the only one not sleeping it seemed. “Katona… is not well. She won’t admit it, but she can barely stand straight anymore, or keep her eyes open. I don’t think she’s slept in days, Doc.”

“The stress is going to kill her.” It wasn’t an overblown reaction, it was fact. If she didn’t relax, get some rest, or even do something that didn’t involve a life or death situation, she’d never be able to continue on. If the exhaustion didn’t kill her outright, it would get her killed on the battlefield. And Doc didn’t spend the last handful of years searching for her to lose her again.

“If an Imp doesn’t first.” Theron walked with him down into the military hanger, watching as soldiers prepped for deployment or spies raced to deliver their reports. Sometimes he couldn’t tell the difference between them, even with years working alongside them. “No matter what I say, she’s too stubborn to let someone else do the work.”

“That sounds like her.” Doc smiled despite himself, glad to see some things never changed. “If you have suggestions, I’m all ears. I haven’t seen her in days , at least.”

The cold sheets of their bed mocked him.

“I, uh, was thinking of setting something up.” Theron glanced at him with a sheepish smile, clearly embarrassed by his train of thoughts. “Like a fake mission. Something that she can’t say no to, but once she gets there, it’s something that forces her to chill out.”

Doc raised an eyebrow. “You know if she finds out it was a lie, she’ll probably kick your ass.”

“I’m not afraid of her.” Theron told him, rolling his eyes.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Theron snorted, but Doc could see his hesitation. She sometimes still scared Doc and they slept together. Katona was… well, she was something else. “Listen, we can blame it on Lana. It’s something she would do, right? Lie to get the Commander to rest. Without Katona at her best, Lana can’t do her job.”

Doc chuckled, stopping at the end of the landing pad, eyes glancing out over the beautiful Odessen scenery. He always was struck with amazement at the things the galaxy held that were untouched by human hands. He hoped there was more out there to be discovered. Because he was never tired of seeing it. “You can try, but Lana might kill you first.”

Theron let out something close to a laugh, leaning against the crude wall built into the side of the mountain. “You may have a point. Thankfully, Lana likes me enough to not do that sort of thing.”

Doc’s mouth twitched with a grin, nodding the way they’d come from. “You’re sure of that?”

With a frown, Theron glanced at the entrance of the military hanger, cringing at the sight of the pretty blonde Sith Lord… who did not look pleased.

“Theron Shan!” She snapped at the sight of him, heading in their direction with determination and maybe a little bit of anger. Ok, a lot of anger. “ When were you going to tell me about this?”

Theron winced as if she’d slapped him. “Lana, I can explain."

“Really?” The datapad in her hands nearly cracked with the amount of pressure she squeezed it with. “Please, go on. Tell me why you thought renting a pleasure barge was an appropriate use of funds.”

Doc’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “You did what? ”

Theron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s for Katona.”

Silence met their words, neither Doc nor Lana knowing where to even start with that .

“It-” Theron groaned, running his hands down his face. “It’s not going to be full of dancers or anything like that. The entire ship is set up for a fight simulation. To help train the Republic military during wartime.”

Lana stared at him in open suspicion, clearly not believing a single word out of his mouth. “Is that so?”

Theron grimaced. Oh so there was more. “There are also slot machines, gambling tables, a dance floor with good music. I think this one has a masseuse and swimming pool.”

“And you used Alliance funding for this?” She repeated, golden eyes nearly burning a hole through the man. Doc had to admit, Lana Beniko was terrifying, even for a Sith Lord. He’s just glad that he’s not the one who screwed up this time.

“Well, Katona is the Alliance Commander-”

“ Theron .”

With a quiet sigh, Doc knew this was why Theron had asked for his help in the first place. To smooth things over, to give the plan a little more viability in the eyes of Lana, and quite possibly Katona. Because neither were going to be happy about the deception, and Doc was well known for being able to make things a little less serious.

“While Theron probably should’ve ran it by you, Katona clearly needs a break. A way to blow off steam. We can work with this. Write it off as a training exercise.”

“That’s… not how this works.” Lana let out a breath, something that could be considered a sigh from anyone else. “ Fine . But when she finds out how much money went into this-”

“She won’t.” Theron assured her and Lana slanted her eyes at him.

“She will . And she will also know that it was you who spent it.” Lana smiled at him thinly. “I’m not the person who is going to cover for you when you screw up, no matter what our relationship might imply.”

Theron laughed nervously, looking at Doc for help. He only shrugged in response, not intending to get involved in that. Not when his own wife was going to be looking for blood later on.

~~~~

The shuttle lifted off a few hours later, Katona hovering behind Theron as he piloted it away from Odessen and in the direction of the pleasure barge where her simulated mission waited. A mission that she thought was a real one, with Imperials who had kidnapped a group of civilians from Dantooine. And Doc felt terrible for lying to her, but he was right about her stress levels. She needed to blow off some steam, get a relaxing massage, and do whatever else her heart desired.

He hated seeing her so worn out.

Those months during their hunt for the Emperor had been the first time Doc saw Katona crack under the pressure, the responsibilities. He didn’t want to ever see her like that again.

Once their heading was set, she moved farther back into the seating area, plopping down next to him with a groan. Stretching her legs out, she crossed her arms over her chest and glanced at him, hesitation in her gaze.

When he looked at her, he couldn’t help the smile spread across his own face despite the clear exhaustion that haunted her eyes. “What’s wrong, gorgeous? Never seen a man so handsome?”

“If I said no, would you start quoting poetry? You’ve already gotten me into bed, you know. And tied me down with that ridiculous wedding you concocted. You don’t need to try so hard anymore.” Her eyes still glowed slightly in the dim interior of the shuttle, but they softened as she watched him.

He chuckled, feeling some relief at how relaxed she was. Even over eight years after meeting her, she still surprised him. “I’ll never stop wooing you, beautiful.”

Katona rolled her eyes, but he could see the beginnings of a real grin on her face. “And I’ll never stop making fun of you for it.”

Her hand slipped into his and squeezed slightly, her eyes on the window of the shuttle as they approached the barge. Doc felt a thrill of excitement in his gut. He wasn’t sure what her reaction was going to be when she found out that this was a setup, but he was so glad to have her here, with him , and to see that she was ready to kick ass. He never tired of seeing the fire in her eyes, or watching her on the battlefield.

Or holding her close when all was calm in the galaxy.

“I’m glad you’re here, Doc.” She said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, the smile finally curling her full lips. “I miss this .”

He heard what she didn’t say. She missed him and damn it, he missed her so much it sometimes hurt. “You miss listening to me scream during a firefight?”

“Among the other times you scream.”

Theron coughed suddenly from the pilot seat and Doc smirked, enjoying watching Katona’s best friend squirm in his seat.

“What’s wrong, Theron?” Katona asked, clearly enjoying his discomfort as well. “Lana doesn’t make you squeal?”

The flush went from his face probably all the way to the tips of his toes. “That’s… none of your business.”

“I guess that’s a yes.” She murmured, snorting before her gaze shifted back to his. “But really, it’s been lonely without you around. For the last few years, I’ve wondered where you were. If you were alive. It sucked not knowing. Not a feeling I care to have again.”

“Is that why you’ve thrown me in the medbay with Elara? To keep me safe?” He should be annoyed by that, but found that he didn’t care about the reasons if it meant that Katona always kept him in the back of her mind.

“That wasn’t my decision. Lana felt your work with Nadia and the Jedi was more important to continue than forcing you into a combat situation.”

“I’d follow you anywhere, beautiful. Even into the depths of hell. You know that.”

Katona rolled her eyes, but she didn’t let go of his hand, her smile never slipping from her face. It was a nice break, sitting here with his wife, even if they were going to be fighting a bunch of droids soon. He wished the galaxy would give them more moments like this, where they can be nothing but Katona and Doc. Where they didn’t need to save everyone all of the time.

“We’re landing. Get ready.” Theron called from the pilot’s seat, putting the shuttle into autopilot.

Katona squeezed his hand before letting go. “Like old times?”

“Not quite.” Doc responded and with a grin, he met her curious gaze. “But it’s better. Because I’m with you.”

Katona wasn’t the type to blush, but he swore he saw a hint of pink on her cheeks. “Flattery gets you nowhere with me, Doc.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true, gorgeous.”

She laughed and his heart squeezed at the sound. “You’re also a terrible liar.”

Shaking his head, he followed her to the exit, knowing that the playful banter was over. Katona had a mission to complete and she would see it through no matter what. Theron joined them a moment later, double checking his blasters. Doc grabbed his medical kit, securing it to his back even though he doubted they would need it. Not a single droid was going to stand up against Alliance Commander Katona.

His feet touched the metal grating as he jumped from their shuttle onto the barge, steps echoing as he pulled his own small blaster, eyes darting around the dark landing pad, seeing nothing but grey durasteel and a few shuttles. No people. No droids. No movement. Nothing.

“It’s too quiet.” Theron muttered, glancing in the opposite direction.

Doc almost snorted, but managed to hold it in. An actor Theron Shan was not . “We have a Jedi here. I’m sure she’ll have no issue warning us-”

“Duck!” Katona shouted, pulling her lightsabers from their spots on her belt, igniting both simultaneously, the white crystals glowing eerily against the barge’s grey interior.

Doing as he was told, Doc huddled near a shuttle that wasn’t the Alliance’s, blaster fire aimed at him leaving burns in the hull. Katona threw herself into the fray with no regards to her safety, only intent on destroying her enemy. Her lightsabers slashed in a wide arc, severing the head from the closest droid in a shower of sparks. She spun, shoving one of the swords into the one beside it, leaving a burning hole in its middle.

Ducking another blaster bolt, he lifted his own weapon, firing on the droids that appeared out of a side door, aiming their shots at Katona. She turned again, deflecting the shots before jumping into the group of them, swinging her lightsaber in a circle and cutting them in half.

With as aggressively as Katona fought, the battle was over in a few minutes, nothing but sparks and smoking electronics left of their foes. The shuttles in the landing bay didn’t fare as well as Doc had hoped although their shuttle took the least amount of damage. Whoever was here partying was definitely going to need someone to repair the ships before they could leave.

Katona returned to his side, checking to make sure he wasn’t injured before doing the same for Theron. Once they were certain of their health, the men followed the Jedi into the hallway, door shutting behind them with a whoosh of finality.

“Theron, did you have the schematics for this place?” Katona asked, eyes peering into the darkness ahead, voice quiet but determined.

“It’s built like any other pleasure barge. Uh, not that I know.” He finished quickly. Katona completely ignored him, holding her lightsaber out like a glowrod, trying to light her path. “The hallway leads to a few side rooms where guests can sleep, a medbay, a dining room, before it leads directly to the main area.”

“And the prisoners? Where would they be kept?”

Doc rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like someone or something was watching them. “Probably in slave cages. Those would be near the private dancing rooms. Off of the main section.”

She only glanced at him, not bothering to ask how he knew about the slave cages. Because she knew him… knew of his dangerous missions against the Empire. Knew that he was going to do anything to save people from being subjected to the evils of slavery and other awful tortures at the hands of the Sith.

And he always would, until they finally killed him. Because the people… they didn’t deserve to suffer.

“Ok, so we know where we’re going.” Katona said instead, turning away to continue on through the darkness. “Let’s go.”

They met several more waves of droids on their path, Katona making quick work of each of them. Theron threw Doc a glance at once point, concern etched on his features, eyes full of worry. This was too easy. Katona was going to suspect something was up if they didn’t have some type of challenge.

The waves of droids were supposed to get progressively more difficult the better you did in the simulation. It didn’t appear that it could keep up with Katona’s aggressive fighting style. Sooner than they wanted, they stood outside the large double doors that led to the main room of the pleasure barge.

Katona’s eyes trailed over him briefly, softening when she realized he was unharmed. “Be careful in there, both of you.”

“That I can do, Commander.” Theron replied, checking his blasters once more, ready to finish this.

Doc smiled at his wife, wrapping a hand around her wrist, thumb brushing gently against the skin there. “Let’s go, beautiful.”

The door opened, strobe lights hitting them in shades of green and gold, lighting up the inside of the room more so than the dim orange lights that hung overhead. A group of droids hung near one of the sabacc tables, no prisoners in sight. Thankfully, there was most likely no actual group of prisoners. Just droids and the people who ran the simulations.

A large droid approached, flanked by a few of the smaller droids they’d been fighting along the way. It didn’t attempt to talk, to negotiate, to do anything but lift the barrel of its weapon and fire. Theron rolled out of the way, ducking behind one of the slot machines near the entrance, a blaster bolt nearly hitting him.

Katona shifted in front of Doc, lightsaber deflecting the attacks as they backed up quickly. Doc crawled under a table, ripping the medpak from its spot on his back and keeping it ready to go. Then he fired at the smaller of the droids from his new cover, giving Katona the opening she needed to slice through the enemy.

He managed to hit it in the power coupling, frying its circuitry and it dropped into a pile on the ground, the droid behind stopping momentarily to deal with the new obstacle. Katona’s lightsaber left her hand, cutting the droid in half before launching herself at the largest of them, catching the saber in midair.

The droid turned as she landed in front of it, ducking the moment it aimed its guns at her. Theron was keeping the other droids busy, his blasters doing considerable damage. Doc cursed, praying that the droid had its guns on stun, not kill, and tried to get a decent shot in.

None came, but it wasn’t needed. Katona spun on her heels, lightsabers leaving arcs of white light behind as she slashed the droid to pieces, a ferocity that was simultaneously beautiful and terrifying. A few seconds passed in silence, the droids sparking until they finally shut down with a groan.

Theron left the safety of his cover at the same time as Doc, watching the droids for any sign of movement. Once they seemed to be in the clear, he turned just in time to see a group of men approaching, all wearing fine clothing and smiling brightly.

The man in the lead clapped his hands excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. “Dear Commander! I hope you enjoyed my simulation. I must admit, I didn’t expect you to breeze through it as easily as you did.”

“What?” She glanced at the man, who was even shorter than Doc, her eyes slanting in suspicion. Her gaze swept over him, taking in everything about him in seconds. “What are you talking about?”

“The simulation? Your friends contacted me about it a few weeks ago.” The man puffed himself up, gripping the front of his jacket, looking like he was about to burst from the size of his ego. “I hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“I…” She trailed off, unsure of how to respond, glare wavering. “Sure, it was great.”

The man smiled, although it seemed he was waiting for some kind of bowing and praise. “Well, I hope you enjoy our hospitality, Commander. There is much fun left to be had.”

When the men disappeared to finish prepping the “relaxation” portion of her gift, she glanced at them.

“This was a set up?” She asked, eyebrows lowering, a look of frustration on her face. “Why?”

“We thought you needed a break. Something to blow off steam before some relaxation. You deserve it. Everything with Malgus… it’s running you into the ground.” Theron rubbed the back of his neck, eyes nervously flickering between Katona and Doc. “Doc agrees.”

“I agreed that she needed a break, but I’m not the one who spent millions of credits setting this up.”

“And Lana? I assume she already threatened you within an inch of your life.”

Theron chuckled nervously, eyes dropping to his feet. “Yeah. But she thinks you need a rest too, Katona. You work too hard.”

“We’ve barely seen each other since I joined your Alliance. It might be selfish, but I missed you.” Doc lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to her wrist. A smirk curled her lips. “Are you angry?”

She rolled her eyes, huffing a laugh. “You know when I’m angry. I can forgive you this one time.”

“It’s because of my charming good looks, isn’t it?” Doc teased Katona, following as she went to check out the food provided by the company. “You can admit that it’s a primary motivator for you.”

Katona snorted this time, glancing down at him with not quite affection, but something that still set his blood on fire. “You’re not the one who needs to worry.”

Her eyes sought out Theron as he picked through the spread, not even realizing they were talking about him now. When the spy glanced up, he saw that Katona and Doc were watching him. “What?”

Katona laughed, a single sharp bark that had Theron widening his eyes in fear.

“Am I going to lose sleep over this?”

“Maybe. How much money have you put us out?”

Theron muttered something under his breath, turning his gaze away, knowing he was screwed.

“That’s what I thought. Don’t worry, Theron. It’s not going to hurt that much.”

Katona’s best friend sighed and walked away, mumbling under his breath about Jedi and Sith and something that Doc couldn’t hear. Not that he cared when there was food to be eaten and a wife to spend time with.

#my writing #swtor summer exchange #swtor summer gift exchange #swtor #star wars: the old republic #star wars the old republic #sealeneee #swtor fanfic #swtor fanfiction #jedi knight #f!jedi knight #archiban doc kimble #archiban frodrick kimble #swtor doc #theron shan #jedi knight x doc #f!jedi knight x doc

22 notes · View notes

dxngosstuff · 1 year

Text

Does the Moonlight Shine on Paris? (vi)

Idol!Yoon Jeonghan x Idol!f!Reader

1.1k+ words ; cw : cussing | m.list tags: friends to lovers; fluff; minor angst; idol au; elements of slowburn; second male lead scoups;

Yoon Jeonghan realizes a few things about you after sharing a drink with you in Paris.

Sitting alone in the car, you were scrolling through your phone while waiting for Jeonghan. He had parked the car on a stop along the expressway to get the both of you something to eat. Although he offered to eat at an actual restaurant, you insisted that you should just get something to eat along the way as it would be less risky. He eventually agreed to your sentiments, always wanting to put your comfort first.

“Here you go, Y/N.” He hands you the meal you had asked him to get for you before settling down in the driver’s seat. You gave him a small thanks and proceeded to open the meal box. The smell of food filled the car. Finally sharing a meal with someone after while felt nice. As a soloist, you often had meals on your own especially when your manager wasn’t around.

“Hannie,” you say, calling out to him softly. He replied with a small hum. “Thank you for the past weeks.”

Jeonghan looked at you mid-bite of his burger. “Don’t mention it but you kind of sound like you’re saying goodbye.” Worry evident in his voice.

You chuckled, “Silly, I’m not going anywhere.” You took a sip out of the soda that came with the meal and continued, “Things just haven’t been the same since you know… the thing with Cheol.”

The man beside her felt his heart sink. Since you had that heart-felt wine-induced conversation in Paris, you never brought up his friend’s name. He wasn't really sure where the conversation was going but above anything else, he wanted to make sure you were okay.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“We really haven’t been talking that much. I understand though. I guess it’s for the better but, you know, sometimes… I miss my best friend.” You really didn’t want to sully the mood but you had no one else to share your sentiments with. The atmosphere could also be to blame. It was quiet—compared to the earlier atmosphere where you jamming to various songs—accompanied by the rustling of food wrappers and the clinking of the ice in your drinks.

He put his food aside and turned to face you almost completely, looking you in the eyes, “Is it really your best friend that you miss?”

You agreed confidently, warranting another comment from him, “I see. I’m right here if you ever feel lonely.”

You nod but you wanted to set something straight. “Thank you. But, I just want to make it clear that you’re not a replacement, okay? You’re you and nobody else. I enjoy hanging out and being with you because you’re fun to be around. I’m not gonna go to you just because I’m sad. I wanna share the happy times with you too, you know?”

He gave you a sheepish grin and reached for the food he set aside. “That’d be great. I enjoy being with you too, princess.”

There it was again, you started blushing and the mood immediately lightened with Jeonghan’s laughter.

“Let’s keep the whole princess thing to a minimum, please.” You sulk and took a bite out of your food.

“What? I thought you liked it?”

“Yeah. But, you’re the only person who’s ever called me that. I’m not yet used to it.”

Chuckling at your reactions, he simply smirked and shrugged saying that he would make you get used to it.

–

“3, 2, 1!”

An automated voice said as you both posed for the camera. You and Jeonghan were now in a photo strip booth because you really wanted to keep a memory of tonight’s events. As expected, tonight was a lot of fun at the movies and at the arcade.

Jeonghan wasn’t really the best at the claw machines which you didn’t expect because he was really good at other games that require wit. He would smack the machines when the prizes would fall only inches away from the hole and that mannerism of his made you laugh cause he would resemble a little kid. You may or may not have video evidence of this.

The two photo strips were now done printing and you took the one where he had the bunny filter on instead of the angel filter but Jeonghan had other plans, “I like that one better give me that.” He said.

“No. I want this one. I look better here.” You protested.

Jeonghan had a specific reason why he wanted the photo strip in your hand. It was because in one of the pictures, he had his arm around your shoulder and he really wanted to keep that one for obvious reasons.

He retorted. “You look beautiful in every picture. So, please, let’s exchange.” He tried to sneak in a little cuteness in his voice at the end, hoping that it could change your mind.

The compliment initially caught you off guard but you wanted to tease him a bit longer seeing how he really wanted to take your copy of the photo strip.

“What was that again? I’m beautiful?” You swiftly leaned in with a big grin on your face but you miscalculated the distance and now, your faces are a mere centimeters away from each other.

Suddenly, time felt like it had stopped for the both of you. Your grin slowly faded and butterflies started to grow in your stomach. Jeonghan took a gulp as you both maintained eye contact with each other. He broke off the eye contact but didn’t inch away from you. Instead, he was now looking at your lips and like clockwork, he leaned in, throwing all reason away.

You slowly closed your eyes and left whatever happened to fate and your heart was beating so loud that you were so sure he could hear it as well. He took this as a sign to continue and tilted his head and that’s when it happened. With his cold hands, he cupped both of your cheeks and you kissed back.

‘Fuck it.’ You both thought.

You moved closer as his hands detached from your face then you wrapped your arms behind his neck. His hands were about to roam around your waist when you were both interrupted by a voice outside the booth.

“Hello, Is there anybody in there?”

Both of you pushed each other away and Jeonghan answered the people outside with a hoarse voice to wait a bit while you quickly fixed your things.

You cleared your throat and handed the photo strip before putting your hat on. “You know what, you can have this.” Eye contact was avoided yet your face was flushed red.

Again, with that smirk, he whispered in your ear, “Thank you, princess. And, yes. You really do look beautiful.”

prev | next

69 notes · View notes